Forging the Heart's Desire

Summary: Alyssa Wulfe is a young Breton striving to save a land that is not her own. She finds refuge with a new family in 'the City of Thieves'. But even with a handsome man with a deep brogue vying for her attention, she finds herself drawn to the surly local blacksmith…

Key Characters: Alyssa Wulfe, Balimund, Brynjolf

Chapter 1

Dawn's light rose over the trees, slowly climbing up Alyssa's body. When the warm glow reached her eyes, she sighed with disappointment, scrunching her eyes closed tighter.

'Just a few more minutes…' She mentally whimpered.

The forest sounds picked up with the sunrise, forcing her to resign herself to the morning. Stretching on the bedroll, Alyssa's eyes blinked painfully open. Inhaling the fresh pine air, she rose and looked at the horizon. Riften was only an hour or two away; she would arrive just as the shops opened.

'Good thing, too' she thought, 'I need to lighten my pack.'

She could use some better arrows, and maybe have her bow restrung. She picked up the item in question to closer examine it. The ebony bow gleamed eerily in the sunshine. It was her greatest find in that ruin after she defeated the first dragon priest. The mask was great, but the minute she opened that bulky chest behind the throne, she almost squealed with delight; very unbefitting behavior for the Dovahkiin. But more than anything, she had to have her armor fixed.

After packing everything away, she mounted her dark mare and headed east. A fox ambled by, roused from its resting place. It wasn't long before the city walls came into view.

Alyssa loved Riften. Sure, it didn't have the shiniest reputation, but that was part of the appeal. An underappreciated city with hidden beauty and potential. She had also met her 'family' here.

The Thieves' Guild was as good a family as any for an out-of-place Breton with a knack for stealth, and the Thief Stone had blessed her thoroughly. She had continued to prove herself time and again. What had solidified her place with the guild was how she handled 'the Mercer Incident'. After Nocturnal had appointed her Chosen to the status of Nightingales, things only got better for everyone in the guild. Their luck had been restored, and all was right with the world… well, dragons withstanding.

"I'm working on that, too…" she murmured aloud.

The Rift was always cold; Skyrim territories could hardly escape the northern icy winds, even one fortunate enough to rest near the border of Cyrodiil. But mornings in the woods outside of Riften were crisp and hazy, soft sunlight dancing on the mist.

The two guards standing watch at the gate shifted anxiously at the approach of the dark horse and its rider. It was a moment before they recognized the young Breton, but their anxiety only increased. Several months ago, they had attempted to pocket a little extra gold for a few rounds at the Bunk House by implementing a 'visitor's tax'. However, the honey-tongued woman not only left their pockets empty, but gave them her own shakedown.

"Good morning, gentlemen!" Alyssa Wulfe dismounted with far too much energy and joy.

Neither guard made to greet her, only shifting in agitation and grumbling. Alyssa chuckled and shook her head, auburn hair coming alive in the early morning light, despite being plaited.

She was attractive, to be sure, with creamy skin and curves to rival a Nord woman. But it was hard to lust after dusky blue eyes that glittered with mischief and petal-pink lips twisted up in a wry grin at their expense.

She hefted her pack over her shoulder and pushed through the gate, ignoring the 'Bloody thief' muttered by one of Riften's finest. It didn't bother her; after all, how could she be angry when it was true?

Glancing towards the market, the Breton briefly reflected on that fateful day when she met a certain brogue-tongued red head who introduced her to her new life and family. They had saved her- well, except for that time she almost died; no thanks to that rotten Fray, may he rest in pieces in Oblivion- but if it hadn't been for the Thieves' Guild, she surely would have starved to death in those early days.

Honeyside was quiet and dark. Though Alyssa Wulfe was revered throughout many of the major cities, Laila Law-Giver had failed to honor her with the title of Thane or a housecarl to keep her home warm. No doubt Laila was suspicious of Alyssa and her involvement with the guild, and would have gladly denied her the property if the city hadn't been desperate for the coin.

Still, Alyssa loved Riften best of all the cities, despite the icy Jarl and the notoriety spread amongst the elite. This was her new home, and no one would drive her from it.

After putting away the treasures she intended to keep, the woman unceremoniously plopped into the nearest chair. She began to nibble a sweet roll absent-mindedly. It wasn't long before she was thinking of the first home she ever knew back in Wayrest, and why she had left it.

"Tell me of my family." An adolescent Breton sat in a chair as an ancient-looking Dunmer woman plaited her hair; dark, bony fingers gently twisting and tying. The hands stopped for a moment, then resumed with a sad sigh.

"I will try, Titta mine…" The Womer looked thoughtful, her already wrinkled brow creasing.

"I was a little girl, even by Dunmer standards when I first saw her," Alyssa held her breath. She had heard this story many times, but some days the story was shorter or longer, depending on her guardian's memory. "She was tall, with golden hair and sad eyes. And her belly was round with child."

"Where was the father?" Alyssa interrupted impatiently.

"I am not sure. My mother said to my father that she believed the Nord woman had arrived alone because the father had died." This part of the story was usually vague, but the Dunmer's mind seemed especially sharp this evening.

Sondhesa Sethri had been awed by the Nord, who was very kind and gentle, despite her heritage. And when the babe had been born, she had immediately liked the looks of the dark-haired boy with piercing blue eyes. They grew up together, she at a much slower rate of course. Their friendship had passed through to the next generations and led to her assimilation into the family as an honorary sister, then aunt, and eventually, grandmother. Sandhesa felt as much a part of Alyssa's lineage, loving her as if she were her own. And with the early death of the Breton child's parents, she felt compelled to care for her.

"I have reflected, and I believe he died in the Oblivion Crisis. It had ended just weeks before Aliana's arrival. She never spoke of him. I believe she was in mourning until the day of her death. But she was a good, strong mother, as I have heard Nord women are. And she needed to be," She chuckled, thinking of her long passed friend, "for Nitram was a handful."

Alyssa was enraptured, eyes glassy and distant, trying to imagine people she had thought of often. It was hard not knowing who you were. Sondhesa was a good mother, though, and tried so hard to please her.

"I also believe he was Imperial."

Alyssa attempted to turn in the chair to look at Sondhesa, which resulted in her giving a hiss of pain at the unintentional tug to her hair. The Dunmer chuckled warmly, turning the child to face forward again.

"Why do you believe that?"

"That boy grew to have such a silver tongue. He could talk his way out of any trouble. Which was good, because he was in it often." Alyssa could hear affection in her tone. "Also, as he grew, his mere presence seemed to command authority. He was a good man. A strong leader, as are all his descendants." Finishing the braid, Sondhesa gave a gentle squeeze to the 12-year-old, which was returned with great force. "Careful, child. By Azura, you'll have great strength when you are grown."

"Does that mean my family hails from Cyrodiil?" Alyssa hoped to find out about her lineage when she was old enough to leave home. But with little to go on, it seemed impossible. Her lineage matron appeared in Wayrest out of nowhere, with no family ties to the land.

The Womer looked thoughtful again. The candlelight gleamed off her silvery-white hair, making her appear almost magical. Despite being an elf, Sondhesa refused to use magic, and had therefore sentenced herself to a shorter life by mer standards.

Resigned, the old elf turned away and shuffled towards a chest in the corner of the room. She returned shortly with a small wooden box.

"I had hoped to wait until you were of age, but… well, now is as good a time as any."

She placed the box in the girl's lap. "It belonged to your father's family. He wished you to have it when… "She stopped short, unable to finish. It was to be given to his daughter on her wedding day by him. Of course, that could never happen now.

Wide-eyed, the Breton girl gingerly lifted the lid. Inside laid a few weathered and frail letters, bound with string. There were a couple of jewels and pieces of jewelry, which attested to the trust the family had in the ancient Dunmer woman.

One ring in particular caught the girl's attention: a silver band with a large ruby. The ring hummed with magic, even after many years passing it whilst in the box. Alyssa picked it up for a closer look. She was surprised to find the image of a dragon within the stone. She looked up at her guardian, waiting for consent. Sondhesa nodded once, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She almost wept for the girl's loss. These trinkets were all that remained of a once proud family line.

Alyssa carefully slid the ring on her finger. It was big; not only was the ring intended for an adult, but it clearly belonged to a man. The moment the band went past her knuckle, a rush of warmth and energy surged through her body, causing the child to gasp as if surfacing from water after being too long under. She shivered, trying to comprehend what she was feeling. As if to answer her, a disembodied voice in the back of her mind rumbled a single word:

'FUS.'

Alyssa quickly tore the ring from her finger and tossed it at the box as if it had burned her.

"Child, what is it?" Sondhesa anxiously reached for her.

"I… don't know…"

She knew now. That ring, which now occupied her finger (with the help of a little binding) held a power that protected and strengthened any wearer who possessed the blood and soul of a dragon. Dragonborn. Thanks to that fateful day in Helgen, she had to give up her pursuit of finding her family and instead save the world. If Sondhesa had told her that not only would Alyssa take on dragons, but win, she wouldn't have known whether to laugh or call a healer. It was moments like this that she really missed her adoptive mother.

Sighing, Alyssa dusted the crumbs from her hands and rose from the chair. She had to have her Nightingale armor looked at. Her last draugr experience had left it worn and in desperate need of mending. She was hoping Asbjorn could fix it. She would drop it off and go shopping. And thanks to that same draugr experience, she had plenty of coin to do so without implementing a five-finger fee amendment.

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. If you have questions or comments, I would enjoy your correspondence.

Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls or any works By Bethesda and Zenimax.