Svana silently crept through the streets of Windhelm, her Shrouded boots masking her footsteps. Watching carefully for guards, she darted up the stairs to the upper floor of the inn, Candlehearth Hall. Upon entry, she met eyes with a man. Svana could feel the nervousness rolling off him in waves.

'This must be the "Nervous Patron" I was sent to speak with.'

Svana seated herself in front of the man. His eyes focused anywhere but on her. The assassin noted to herself that the man was scared of her - terrified, even. 'Good. Less of a chance he'll have the nerve to attempt to swindle me.' The smirk hidden by the masked cowl she wore, Svana held her silence. The man grew more and more uncomfortable, eventually breaking the quiet.

"So you're the... the assassin? I need you to kill the Greedy Merchant in the Windpeak Inn, in Dawnstar. Here's the gold. I... I hope it's enough."

The assassin nodded, pocketing the money. She didn't need the Septims anymore, what with all the gold earned in plundering tombs, but it did help keep the Brotherhood afloat. Svana left as silently as she came, laughing silently to herself with how much calmer the man seemed without her presence. Noting that no guards were around, she dashed into the shadows and leisurely walked towards one of her many homes, Hjerim.

Brynjolf stuck to the shadows. He wasn't one to frequent Windhelm, but he had a job to do in the city. The thief rubbed his hands together. At least he'd be able to head back to Riften soon, with a hefty sum of money. Delvin had sent him on a bedlam job; he had to steal 500 gold worth of goods within Windhelm. The job seemed easy enough, especially after talking to some of the locals. Apparently, the city's Thane had a home within the walls, and she didn't frequent it often. The only inhabitant was the housecarl, Calder. Calder was said to be a very strong fighter, but somewhat slow, so he was easy to get around.

Brynjolf cursed as he surveyed the house's lock. It was one of the most difficult locks to pick, so he'd have to be extremely careful if he didn't want to get caught. After a few tense minutes, he was inside. Looking around inside, Brynjolf noted how sparse the bottom floor was. A kitchen was located to the right, with a long dining table to the left. Further in the back, there was a children's bedroom and a training dummy. Straight ahead, though, were a set of stairs to the upper floor of the house. Brynjolf tested the steps as he moved forward, easing onto them to keep them from creaking. He noted the top floor appeared to be an armory. There were wicked-looking black blades with a pulsing red center; they almost looked alive. Brynjolf shuddered at the thought of being cut with one of them. He turned his eyes to the left, seeing yet more of the living weapons. The thief saw an armor mannequin clad in strange furs. Moving closer, Brynjolf began to feel uneasy. It was Forsworn armor, meaning the Thane of the house had either killed a Forsworn and looted it, or was one of them. He saw ancient Nordic weapons in display cases, and magical staves on racks. Then his eyes fell on the armor in the corner. It was Thieves' armor.

Dread pooled in the bottom of Brynjolf's stomach. He had just broken into the home of a fellow thief. Any thief could be kicked out of the Guild just for breaking into another thief's home, much less for stealing something of theirs. Nervous, Brynjolf turned to leave, but then he saw something no sane person would want to see.

A complete set of red and black leather armor, displayed on a mannequin in the corner of the room, right next to the stairway. Brynjolf cursed to himself; he really needed to leave. To enter the home of an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood without permission is to ask for a slow, painful death. Brynjolf did not want to die that day.

The thief descended the stairs as quickly as he could do so quietly; now would not be a good time to be caught by the housecarl. He eased the door open and dashed outside, eager to leave the murderer's home – but he ran right into the one person he had hoped to avoid more than anything. A woman, clad in red and black leather armor. Brynjolf had been caught in the act. Her eyes were full of surprise, but quickly darkened to annoyance as they flickered up above his head. The thief made to turn, but was knocked unconscious, the assassin's cold, dark eyes dancing in his thoughts before he faded into darkness.

A/N: Hello everyone! It's.. been quite a long time since I last posted a story. I usually just don't feel like writing. But! A new story, and a new fandom! Woop woop! I came up with the idea for this story while playing Skyrim last night, and fleshed it out and added more. I think it's going to be a fun ride for everyone involved (it's also funny because I've never really been a Brynjolf fangirl before). I hope you enjoy. : )

This story will probably be a bit slow to update. : ( Maybe a chapter a week, which is faster than some, but still. Most of my multi-chapter stories never got completed, which was lame of me and I apologize. At the very least I can promise a thorough outline if I run out of time to write up actual chapters. In the past, I forgot what I was doing with stories and couldn't really finish them. This time though, I do have something to follow.