I do not own Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, nor do I own any of the Skyrim characters that make a brief appearance in this short story.

So, since Cry and Hainin are such good pals, I decided it was time to write a story reflecting that friendship. Therefore, this was born.

I was actually going to write two separate one-shots, in order to bridge the gap between ATJ and the yet-to-be-named final addition to this "series", but then I decided that it was better to combine the two.

Still, that doesn't mean there won't be another one-shot sometime soon. It just depends on whether or not I get the final addition completed first.

Anyhow, enjoy!

Four Attempts and One Success

He hadn't wanted to leave the Sanctuary. It was snowing outside, something it rarely ever did in their part of the forest, and the last thing he wanted to do was go tromping out into it to track a mark.

But, Astrid had been insistent, and so he'd gone tromping out into it, grumbling quietly to himself, hands tucked under his armpits to keep them warm.

The target had, reportedly, been spotted in Falkreath the day before. Astrid told him that the man paying for the target's death was paying more than the usual sum, and had sacrificed his own mother in order to reach them.

More's the pity to him, then, the assassin thought numbly to himself as he reached Falkreath, shivering, if the target isn't even here.

He could only guess what the target had done to the summoner, for the man to have taken such drastic measures in order to contact the Brotherhood. Who killed their mother, anyhow?

The assassin drew to a pause as the thought crossed his mind. Plenty killed their mothers, probably, although he imagined more killed their fathers. After all, fathers usually did the physical beating, and it was easier to succumb to that than the mental beatings mothers were known for.

Shaking his head, both to remove the thoughts, and the snow from his hair, the assassin pushed his way into the inn. He needed to find out if the target was still in the city, and no doubt the innkeeper was the best source to ask.

He walked up to the bar and leaned casually against it, trying his best not to look as though he were in desperate need of a hot drink, and a warm blanket.

The innkeeper offered him a dry smile. "Cold out, eh?"

The assassin chose not to respond, and the innkeeper lost the grin. "Need a drink?"

"It'd be appreciated."

The innkeeper nodded and turned away to retrieve the drink for him. When the steaming mug was placed on the counter, the assassin gripped it in both hands and took a drink. The warm mead settled into his belly, and he released a silent, relieved breath before looking at the innkeeper once more.

"Thank you," he said, settling once more into his 'scary assassin' character. "Now, I need some information."

"What kind, stranger?" the innkeeper queried, obviously trying not to look interested and concerned at the same time.

"Has anyone new come to Falkreath, recently?" the assassin asked. "Young female Nord?"

The innkeeper gazed at him for a moment, and the assassin narrowed his eyes, doing his best to convey 'terrifying' through them. After a moment, the innkeeper looked away.

"Yes. A young Nord woman arrived last night, late. She was exhausted, and looking for a place to stay, so I gave her a room for less than my usual rate." He nodded towards one of the closed doors against the wall of the inn. "That one, there. She left this morning and hasn't come back, but when I went in there to sweep, I saw that she'd left behind some of her possessions. I left them as they were, thinking that she might come back to get them."

The assassin smiled, his 'scary' side fading away almost at once. "Thank you," he said, genuinely pleased with the information. "You've been very helpful."

He dropped a coin purse onto the counter; it fell with a heavy thud against the wood, coins clinking inside of it. Without another word, he scooped up his mug and left the bar, crossing the inn's floor to one of the chairs on the opposite side.

He sank down into it, mug resting on his thigh, and stared into the fire. He would wait. He was good at waiting.

He didn't have to wait long, however. Within the hour, the door to the inn blew open, snow rushing in. Behind it came a Nord who was dressed in mismatching armor. She had blonde hair; it was pulled out of her face. When she turned around after closing the door, a shock of recognition raced up the assassin's back. He knew this Nord.

All red cheeked and smiling because of and despite the snow, she walked over to the bar and ordered herself a warm drink as well. After she'd received it, and paid for it, she left the main hall for her rented room, the door closing behind her.

The assassin finished off his own mug. He eyed the innkeeper for a moment, waiting to see what they would do.

After a few minutes, they finished with cleaning off the bar, and disappeared down the stairs into the basement of the inn.

The assassin wasted no more time. He quickly stood and hurried across the inn to the closed door. He tested it; it was unlocked.

Slowly, he pushed the door open. The young Nord was seated at the table in the room, examining a map laid out on the table in front of her. She looked up at the sound of the door opening, and her eyes widened as the assassin lowered his hood and closed the door behind him.

"Well," she started when he didn't say anything. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you again."

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you again, either," he answered. He leaned his bow against the wall, and rested his hand on the hilt of his dagger. "It appears, however, that the Gods chose to let us meet once more, and this time, one of us is going to die."

The Nord, Cry Silverworthy, gazed at him for a moment, and then she leaned her head back and laughed. The assassin, Hainin Marshal, was taken aback by the outburst, and he stood there dumbly, blinking at her.

Cry's laughter was pure, and loud, and obviously authentic, for when she finally quieted down, she brought up a hand to wipe away a few tears.

"You won't be killing me today," she told him, and, for whatever reason, Hainin realized she was right.

Slowly, he removed his hand from his dagger. "I'll have to tell the others something," he said after a moment, during which she'd gone back to studying her map. She looked over at him again, and he planted his hands on his hips. "I can't just say that I couldn't kill you because you kept my head from getting cut off."

Cry considered this for a moment, and then she shrugged her shoulders. "Just tell them I wasn't here," she said. She frowned at him. "I hadn't thought you to be an assassin."

"Yeah, well… I wasn't, up until a month ago," Hainin admitted.

"And they sent you to kill me?" Cry asked in surprise.

He shrugged. "I'm pretty good already. I've been training more than anything." He gestured to his bow. "I didn't know how to even hold one of these a month ago, and now I hit every target."

Cry smiled at him. "That's impressive. Good for you."

She looked down at her map again, and Hainin hesitated another moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I might be sent after you again, when we figure out where you are later on," he told her.

Cry didn't look up this time. "Then I guess we'll see what happens then, won't we?" she asked him.

"I guess so," Hainin agreed quietly. He retrieved his bow. "It was nice seeing you again, uhm…"

"Cry," she supplied.

"Cry," he repeated. "I'm Hainin, in case you forgot."

Here, she raised her eyes from the map, and they met his, glittering. "I didn't."

"Right," Hainin said. "Thank you, for that. I guess… I guess I might see you again."

"I guess you might," Cry responded. "Have a good day."

"You too."

With that, Hainin turned and fled the room, only pausing to close the door courteously behind him.

The second time they heard of her location, Hainin was finally told why the man wanted her dead so badly.

"She's the Dragonborn, and he thinks she's responsible for bringing the dragons back," Nazir explained. "Now go, and please actually kill her this time."

So Hainin had made the day long journey by carriage to Solitude. When he'd reached the city, night had already fallen, and the innkeeper told him that she hadn't purchased a room. He had no other ideas, so he'd gotten a room himself and resolved to look for her in the morning.

After running into yet another unexpected face, he'd quickly departed from Solitude's city square and headed deeper into the city itself. He'd spotted Cry in the crowd that had gathered to watch the guard's execution, and he now he needed to find her.

He ducked into an alleyway between two buildings. He saw her walk past, looking as though she had no idea what she was doing, or why she was in Solitude in the first place. She seemed… lost, and all at once, Hainin lost his desire to 'actually kill her this time'.

With a sigh, he pushed his way out of the alley, and called out to her.

Cry turned around as his voice, and she blinked, but then she smiled, and walked over to him.

"Hello, Hainin," she greeted. "Are you here to actually kill me, this time?"

"I was going to," he said, "but then I noticed that you look lost. What're you doing here?"

"I'm supposed to meet someone," Cry explained. "At the inn. But… he wasn't in there, so I'm wondering if maybe he came out here to watch the execution, and then just decided not to go back to the inn at all."

"Oh." Hainin glanced over his shoulder, towards where the crowd that had gathered was still dispersing, and then he turned back around to face her. "Maybe you could try again later?"

"I'm sort of on a time crunch," Cry replied. "Do you think you could help me find him?"

Hainin hesitated a moment. He knew that if he didn't kill her this time, he'd be in trouble with Astrid and Nazir both. But, seeing the expression on her face made him think that killing her now wouldn't be the smartest idea. She had something to do, first, and if he tried to kill her before she could do it, then everything would be ruined.

So, he nodded. "Sure, I'll help," he agreed. "Who is he?"

"An elf," Cry told him, sounding relieved. "His name is Malborn."

"Well, then he shouldn't be too hard to find," Hainin commented. Cry looked at him, confused, and he frowned. "What?"

"Why not? Aren't there a lot of elves in Solitude?" she asked, and Hainin slowly shook his head.

"No, not since the civil war started," he responded. "How long were you away from Skyrim?"

Cry hesitated a moment before replying, her eyes drifting past him to something only she could see. "Too long," she murmured softly, and then she let out a breath.

Hainin watched her, his eyebrows drawing together, and then he cleared his throat. "Let's try the inn again," he suggested. "Maybe you just didn't see him in the crowd, and now he's back inside."

That brought her back to the present, and she returned her gaze to him, nodding. "I guess that's a better idea than going through the entire city," she said.

Hainin nodded, and then gestured for her to lead the way. She did so, walking in front of him in the direction of the inn. Hainin trailed behind her a bit, realizing how easy it would be for him to grab her, drag her into an alley, and stab her without anyone noticing.

His hand twitched in the direction of his dagger, but he couldn't force it to grab the hilt and pull it out. Instead, his hand fell once more to his side as they reached the inn, and Cry pushed the door open.

It was filled with people once more, most of them talking about the execution. In one corner, however, sat a wood elf, alone at his table.

Hainin nudged Cry, and gestured towards him. "That the one?"

Cry looked the elf over, and then shrugged. "I guess he might be. I won't know until I talk to him." She looked at Hainin. "Thank you."

"I didn't do much," he replied, and she smiled at him.

"No," she agreed, "but you didn't kill me."

"I guess that's true," Hainin said after a moment. "I'll really have to kill you next time, though. I think I'll have run out of excuses by then."

Cry shrugged. "I suppose if you really have too, then you can try your best," she said. "I'll see you then."

With that, she left him at the door of the inn, walking over to the table where the wood elf sat. She settled down in the chair across from him, and they began to speak quietly with one another.

Hainin watched this interaction for a moment before slipping back out of the inn, already trying to decide on what to use as his reasoning for not killing the Dragonborn this time around.

The third time, Hainin came across her all on his own, and he decided that he really did need to just get this over and done with, to save himself from another scolding from Nazir. He hated it when the Redguard scolded him; it made him feel like a child.

He crossed the Whiterun marketplace until he was standing in front of a stand. He pretend to inspect its wares as he tracked Cry's movements through the square. When she was out of sight, he turned away from the stand and hurried in the direction she had disappeared.

He trailed after her through the Wind District, and watched as she disappeared into the first building within the city's gates, aside from the smith. Frowning, he approached the door of the building and tested the handle. The door was still unlocked, and Hainin quickly slipped inside the private home, wondering where Cry had managed to get the key to it.

He paused once he was inside, looking around the small front room. It was a quaint little home, not much more than a firepit and some shelves. He heard movement up on the second floor, however, and Hainin moved around the firepit to reach the stairs.

He quietly crept up them, hoping the Dragonborn's hearing wasn't any better than a normal human's. His hand reached for his dagger as he neared the top of the stairs, and he actually succeeded in pulling it out of it's scabbard.

He decided this was a good sign, and he quickly crossed the small landing at the top of the stairs, going for the open set of doors to his right.

He found Cry crouched in front of a chest on the floor of the bedroom he was now in, rooting through it. He swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat when he saw her, and he started across the floor towards her, raising his dagger.

Just when he was about to reach her, there was a sharp pain in his side, and he cried out. His dagger fell from his fingers to the floor, and he collapsed himself shortly after, hand moving to grab at the wound he'd just been given.

Cry had turned around at his exclamation, and she rose to standing, crossing the small space that remained between them.

"Oh, Lydia," she sighed, gazing down at him. "You didn't have to do that. I heard him coming up the stairs, and I could've handled it."

"I apologize, my Thane," another female voice responded, "but I couldn't risk it. He got very close."

"I'm sorry, Hainin," Cry said to him. She turned back to the chest and reached into it. She pulled out a healing potion, and crouched down beside him. Pulling his head into her lap, she uncorked the bottle. "You'll swallow this, and it'll go away in no time."

Hainin submissively allowed her to pour the health potion into his mouth, and he relaxed as a warm feeling caressed his wounded side. He removed his hand when he no longer felt blood against his fingers, and he closed his eyes tiredly.

"Lydia is very protective of me," Cry explained to him. Her voice moved, then, probably because she'd raised her head. "Get our guest a mug of mead, and an apple."

"My Thane, he was going to kill you!" the other woman, Lydia no doubt, exclaimed.

Cry's voice returned to the position it had been at before; she was looking down at him again. "No he wasn't," she said. "Please, Liddie."

There was a soft groan of annoyance and disagreement, but then the sound of fading boots against the wooden floor.

"After you drink your mead and eat something, I think I'll have to ask you to leave," Cry said, and Hainin offered a weak nod in agreement. "I know that it seems rude, but I'm afraid Lydia might try to kill you again if I don't send you out of here."

"Understandable," Hainin admitted, his throat dry. "I did try to kill you, after all."

"I was surprised that you actually got to the point of drawing your dagger, this time," Cry told him, helping him sit up. She reached for the fallen weapon, and looked it over. "This is really nice craftsmanship. Where did you get it?"

"The Brotherhood has a member who's always dabbling at the forge and the grindstone," Hainin answered, moving so that he could lean back against the bed instead of support himself. He grunted a bit as he did so, and then he gestured to the dagger in her hands. "I paid twenty gold pieces for that."

"He made you pay?" Cry asked in surprise.

"I may or may not have lost a bet," Hainin replied sheepishly, and Cry grinned in amusement.

At that moment, Lydia returned. "Here," she said gruffly, forcing a mug and an apple into Hainin's hands. She then retreated to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall there, watching him through narrowed eyes all the while.

"You don't have to stay, Liddie," Cry told her. "I doubt he'll try to kill me again."

"I'd rather not take any chances, my Thane," Lydia replied, eyes not leaving Hainin, who pretended he couldn't hear them and took a bite out of the apple. It was very sweet.

He munched and crunched on the fruit, and drank the mead up in deep gulps. Lydia scowled at him the entire time, while Cry merely watched him with an amused expression.

When he was done eating, Hainin burped quietly, excused himself, and glanced around for a place to dispose of the apple core and empty mug.

"I'll help you downstairs," Cry suggested, standing up, and Hainin nodded in agreement, dropping the core into the mug.

As the two of them past Lydia, the dark haired Nord moved away from the wall and followed them to the top of the stairs, but that was where she stayed. Hainin glanced over his shoulder once Cry led him down the stairs.

"She is protective of you," he said, and Cry nodded.

"It's her job to be."

"So, you're a thane, huh?" Hainin asked her, and handed her the mug when she held out a hand for it.

Cry nodded again. "I uh… sort of gained the title shortly after the events of Helgen by helping Whiterun with a dragon attack of their own." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't exactly feel like I deserve the title, but what can you do?"

She put the mug down on the table in the small makeshift kitchen, and looked at him. "What are you going to tell them this time?" she asked, and Hainin grinned.

"I'll tell them that your housecarl stabbed me," he said. "At least it won't be another lie."

"That's true," Cry said. "Will you still get yelled at?"

"Probably, and it'll sink my pride even lower than it already is, but…" He shrugged. "What can you do?"

"Next time I'll make sure you actually have a chance, I promise."

Hainin nodded in agreement. "Thanks. I'll see you then."

He left her alone in the kitchen, leaving through the front door. He knew that there would be a next time, but he didn't think that he would kill her then, either.

In fact, Hainin was beginning to wonder if he was even meant to kill her at all.

Hainin found her just as she was leaving Whiterun the next time. He'd waited outside for her, knowing that she was in the city, and not wanting to miss her as she left.

When she did, he waited to make sure she was alone before trailing after her, sticking to the shadows as he did so. Cry didn't seem to notice he was following her, for she simply continued to walk.

As they left the general vicinity of the city, and Cry walked off the street entirely onto the plains of Whiterun, Hainin frowned to himself. That didn't seem like something that a mark who didn't know they were being trailed would do.

With a sigh, he removed himself from his hiding position and followed after her. She obviously knew he was there; what was the point in trying to keep from sight?

Cry led him deep into the plains, far enough away that no one would find them for at least a day, if one of them were to fall during this confrontation. She then turned around to face him.

"Well," she said, seeing him. "I guess this is the last time we'll meet, isn't it?"

"If I'm lucky," Hainin agreed, drawing his bow. He pulled an arrow back in the string, and took aim. The arrowhead pointed to the place between her breasts. "Remember how I told you before that I can hit every mark?"

"Yes," Cry answered.

"I'm even better, now," Hainin concluded, drawing the arrow back further.

"That's good," Cry responded. "You'll have to be."

Hainin released the arrow, and it flew towards Cry. She easily sidestepped out of its way, and it fell into the grass behind her. She glanced over her shoulder towards its landing place, and then she looked at him again, just in time to see he'd already released another arrow.

This one managed to skim her shoulder before she could move, and she reached up to touch the wound. A thin line of blood came away on her finger tips.

"That was closer," she said to him, and then she reached up to pull her greatsword out of its scabbard on her back. "It missed, though."

Hainin was busy putting another arrow in place, and Cry decided that going after him while he was distracted wouldn't be very fair of her, so she waited for him to get situated. When he lifted his eyes from his arrow, she ran towards him, greatsword up.

Hainin yelped rather comically and dove out of the way, his readied arrow disappearing into the grass as he dropped it. Cry stopped in the place where he'd been, panting from her sprint towards him, and she turned in his direction.

"I don't want to have to fight you," she said to him.

"Me, either," he admitted, straightening up, "but I have to kill you. I've already walked away from you three times."

"What's one more?" she asked, and Hainin hesitated, his hand lingering above the quiver of arrows that hung from his back. "I know you don't actually want to kill me."

"No," he sighed. "I feel like I have too, though. Someone killed his mother as the Black Sacrament for this job. Obviously, he really wants you dead."

A look of hurt crossed over Cry's features. "Who?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," Hainin answered. He dropped his hand back to his side. "I just know that he wants you dead because he thinks you're the one who's bringing the dragons back."

Cry visibly swallowed, and she turned her gaze towards the ground. "And maybe he's right," she murmured, almost so quietly that Hainin didn't catch it.

He did, however, and he silently put his bow back over his quiver. "I can't kill you, Cry," he sighed tiredly. "I know that I should, but… I can't."

She glanced up again, and offered him a thin smile. "I would say that's good to hear, but… now I'm not quite sure how I feel about the whole death thing. Maybe it'd be better for everyone if I were to die."

Hainin didn't even pause before saying, "No it wouldn't."

Cry furrowed her brows, but before she could say anything, there was a loud screech from somewhere in the distance. Hainin stiffened and Cry's shoulders set as they both recognized what it was.

"I guess I should go kill that," the Dragonborn said.

"Sure, have fun," Hainin responded. "Try not to get killed yourself."

Cry actually laughed. "All right," she answered.

With that, she hurried away across the plain in the direction of the dragon that was making its way towards some unsuspecting town, and Hainin fled in the complete opposite direction.

There's a second chapter.