Hey everyone. Finally got internet back at my house, so we'll celebrate with a chapter! I want to make it very clear that I do intend to finish this, and my other story. I also want everyone to know how much all of your support means to me. Every review, favorite and follow makes me so happy, and I save all the reviews to look at when I get stuck in writing. I really wouldn't be anything without all your support. So thank you, very much.

That said, I've got the last of this planned out, so it shouldn't be another month and a half for the next chapter. Promise.

I own nothing.

Ahlia did not actually have business at the Blue Palace the following morning. She had told her mother that excuse to have some time to herself. Clearly, her plan of having a fiancé was not going to work, as her mother had brought her choice anyway Adding the knowledge that the man her mother intended to have her marry was very wealthy, powerful, and had a dark vendetta against her, her life wasn't looking very good right then. Someone like Thonar was going to get what they wanted, not matter the cost. And one "merchant" was not going to be much of a deterrent. She really wouldn't put it past him to have Brynjolf killed just to get to her, and that thought sent a thread of anxiety through her. Panic made it hard to breathe for a moment, and she struggled to calm her racing heart. Thonar would not have had time to set up anything like that yet, she rationally told herself, and she would just have to end this before it got that far.

It was a sobering thought that she was going to be sold away like cattle to a man who wanted to hurt her. But she had to remember that, though Thonar had powerful family, she was powerful as well. She was no damsel in distress. But the violence she was accustomed to would help her little, she debated with herself. If she killed Thonar, even in self-defense, his brother was the Jarl of Markarth and he would hunt her down and kill her for any harm that she caused. An assassin could follow her for the rest of her life. Not that she had never been attacked by an assassin before, but that was not really how she wanted to live the rest of her life. Political ramifications aside, she did not want to resort to violence, no matter how appropriate it may be. She was no murderer.

And then there was her mother to consider, she thought, flopping back across her bed with a sigh. She had been raised to feel like she owed her mother a huge debt simply for giving birth to her, and that was a hard thing to shake off. It had been written upon her psyche when she was very young, and pounded into her mind again and again as she grew older. She knew it was wrong, that a mother should not treat her child as Cordae had treated Ahlia, but it made little difference. She was her mother.

She only had one option, then, as distasteful as it was.

With a sigh, Ahlia rose and dressed in a moderately nice dress, before heading downstairs. Predictably, she found Brynjolf sitting in her kitchen, eating an apple. He was dressed nicely also, missing only his saber cat fur cloak. His red hair had been tied back, and looked surprisingly good that way. He looked up at her as she entered and sat opposite him. Silently, he pushed the bowl of apples toward her. She waved it off and reached for a hunk of bread instead. It was dry and hard, but she kept eating it.

"So, what's the plan?" Brynjolf asked after a moment.

"I'm going up to the palace today to get you that circlet," she responded.

He raised his eyebrows, watching her closely for a moment. "And dinner with your mother?"

She grimaced. "We'll deal with that when it happens. I'll get Jordis to come back to cook," she answered slowly. She rose from the table, and Brynjolf rose too. Ahlia just shook her head. "Stay here, it'll be easier this way."

The redhead frowned at her but did not argue, slowly lowering himself to the bench at the table again.

Her plan was simple. She was a common sight around the Blue Palace, so she really planned to just walk in and take the circlet. At this time of day, the Jarl would be in court along with most everyone else. She should be able to slip into Elisif's chambers and take the circlet without anyone being the wiser. She even had an idea of where it was. When she had first come to Solitude, she had done a personal favor for the Jarl, and had been shown into her bedroom to talk to her privately. She remembered a small alcove at the back of the room with many book shelves and wardrobes there. A small black ribbon had been tied to one door handle, and she would bet money that was where she would find Torygg's things.

As Ahlia predicted, it was easy getting into the palace. A few of the guards waived at her calmly, and the few members of court that lingered around the lower entryway smiled and greeted her politely. She nodded to them, and made her way upstairs. She followed the curved stairs up to the second floor and nodded politely to the court. Elisif looked up from watching a citizen speak to smile briefly at her. Ahlia returned it and, when everyone's attention had returned to the citizen, slipped away down the hallway to her left. Elisif's room was at the very back, and she moved inside as if she owned the place, knowing that her confidence would shield her from questions. Once in the room, Ahlia closed the door behind her and moved to inspect the wardrobes she had seen before. They were full of clothes, mostly cloaks, that had belonged to the old king, but the circlet Brynjolf was after was nowhere in sight. She checked another, and then a dresser. There was no sign of the circlet in the room. Frowning, she cast her eyes around the rest of the room. Her eyes fell over Elisif's large, four post bed. There was enough room for two people in that bed. The circlet was not on the side tables that flanked the bed or on the table with a large mirror nearby.

Where would I keep something so precious? Aahla mused. Her eyes fell on the bed again, and she stalked to it . She moved to the side nearest the door and considered it for a moment. The pillow was fluffier, less used than the one on the other side. She reached under it. Hard metal met her fingers and she pulled it out. In her hands was a gold circlet, studded with brilliant emeralds and pieces of jade.

No wonder Bryn couldn't find it.

Ahlia glanced at the door and slipped the circlet away into her belt pouch before exiting the room. She used a servants side stair to make her way down to the first floor, then lingered in the kitchen for a while, talking to a few of the servants that she knew and liked, trying to make her visit look more natural. As she was leaving, the guard posted at the bottom of the stairs stopped her. "Were you here for a reason, milady?" he asked politely.

"I wanted to talk to Elisif about that attempted theft a few days ago," Ahlia said, painting a worried look on her face. "She been so anxious lately, and so sad since her husband passed, I was worried about her. But I didn't want to interrupt her when she was busy. I can come back another time."

"I'm sure the Jarl would appreciate your concern, milady," the guard said, smiling genuinely at her.

Ahlia smiled and nodded back. "Please give her my regards, and tell her I'll stop by when I can."

"Of course, milady."

With that, she left, the circlet tucked safely away.

Brynjolf looked up from the book he was reading on the landing outside her room when Ahlia came in and stalked up the stairs. She unhooked the pouch from her belt, and set it on the table in front of him. He set the book aside, and reached in, pulling out the circlet and studying it in the light coming from the windows. He grinned. "Good work, lass. How did you manage to get it?"

"It was easy, no one gives me a second look when I'm there," she answered, sitting down, and relaxing back in the chair. "Oh shit!" she gasped, sitting up straight again. "I forgot to talk to Jordis. Now I'm going to have to think of something to cook." She laid her head down on the table with a soft groan. She did not enjoy cooking, especially for such a high maintenance person as her mother.

Brynjolf chuckled at her. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

"You?" She peeked up at him without raising her head.

"Aye, I posed as a cook once for a job. Learned a few tricks. Got any skeever meat?"

She sat up quickly and fixed him with an incredulous look. A grin spread across his face slowly, and then he began to laugh. She realized that he was teasing her, and stuck her tongue out at him. He just laughed louder.

She grumble about taking a bath and left him to take care of dinner. She heard Brynjolf leave the house as she was heating water for her bath, and spent a moment in awe of how easy things had gotten between them. She didn't worry about him coming back, she just trusted that she would. Shrugging it off, she climbed into the water and relaxed, trying to pretend like her life wasn't falling apart. After her bath, she retreated to her room and took a long nap, feeling drained by everything that had happened the last few days. Even when she awoke, she spent a long time just lying in her bed. This wasn't a horrible house; she was going to miss it. Delicious scents of fish and spices drifted up to her from the kitchen. Her mouth watered, and she rolled onto her side to look out the window. It was growing dark. Her mother would be there soon.

Slowly, she dragged herself out of bed, and dressed nicely, before heading downstairs once more. Brynjolf was in the kitchen, standing over a roaring cooking fire, his back to her. She smiled a little as she watched him. There was some unfinished business with him that she intended to take care of that night, no matter how nervous it made her. "Is there anything I can help?" she called quietly.

Brynjolf turned to look at her and smiled. "Just watch this. It's almost finished, but there was something else I wanted to get from the market," he responded, stepping away from the fire.

Ahlia took his place at the fire, looking down into a pot of vegetables and herbs. "What did you want to get?"

"Some spiced wine from Evette San," he responded, already heading toward the door. "It will go well with the fish."

She stirred the vegetables halfheartedly. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"I haven't found anything yet, lass," he responded from the hall. A moment later, she heard the door shut.

After a while, Ahlia took the pot off the fire and frowned toward the door. There was no sign of Brynjolf. It should not have taken him so long to go to the stand in the market and purchase wine from San and return. Slowly, she dished the vegetables out onto a plate on the table. The day was darkening beyond her windows and she glanced out into the street, but there was no sign of him. Worry niggled at her stomach. She began to take the plates of food to the table on the landing, deciding that it would be a better dining area than her kitchen table. A knock on her door made her pause. Taking a deep breath, she placed the last of the dishes on the table and went to open the door. A part of her hoped it was just Brynjolf, his arms to full to open the door, but she knew that wouldn't be the case. When she opened the door and looked at her mother, she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

"Good evening, dear," her mother greeted coldly, sweeping into the room. Thonar followed her with a cold nod to Ahlia.

"Good evening, we're going to be eating upstairs," Ahlia said, motioning toward the stairs. Her mother swept up them like she owned the place, peeking around every corner, as though looking for anything she could disapprove of.

"Where is your…friend?" her mother asked, the same haughty tone in her voice.

"Um," the dragonborn glanced toward the door. "I'm not sure. He went to get some spiced wine for us, and has not yet returned."

"And how long has he been gone?" Cordae asked.

"It has been a while," Ahlia conceded finally. The older woman looked at her with an obviously disdainful expression. "I'm sure he will be joining us shortly," Ahlia said quickly.

"Of course he will," she responded condescendingly.

Anger bristled at the back of her neck as Ahlia followed her guests up stairs. Cordae refused to wait for Brynjolf and instead insisted they begin eating. Ahlia kept looking toward the stairs, just praying that nothing had happened to the redhead. The longer dinner went on, the more certain she was that something bad had happened to the thief. Perhaps she had been wrong about how long it would take Thonar to set up an assassination...