We spent the next two days and nights traveling. Wolves attacked us. We ran into a thief, who Fenia sent away with a few bad burns. I felt angry I had missed the fight (I had been sleeping), but Fenia just said that I would have plenty more where I was going.
When I finally saw the stables, I was ecstatic. I shrieked with glee, and hugged Fenia. “We’ve made it,” she whispered tiredly.
I made my way to a small house, and knocked quietly. There was a brief pause, and then a yawning woman appeared. “More travelers?” she sighed.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, miss.” Fenia stepped up beside me and explained. “We were wondering if you could direct us to the inn.”
The woman nodded, and pulled a lantern from her shelf. “Come on, then.”
She led the way through a stone stairway, and up to a pair of guards that were guarding a huge wooden door. “Hello, Yalisa.”
The guards greeted her, but eyed us suspiciously. “Who are they?”
“They want to stay at the inn. Can one of you show them there?”
One of the guards sighed, and stood aside, letting us in. “Sure, I’ll do it.”
The guard pushed open the door and led us into a beautiful city. “Welcome to Whiterun,” he said in a bored tone. “The inn is right over there.” He nodded towards a large building with several windows.
We thanked him and hurried inside.
A fire was crackling in the hearth, and the light glow illuminated a wondrous collection of food. There was cheese and fruit, vegetables and bread, beer and mead, and many other things the likes of that. After two days of nearly starving, the selection made my mouth water.
Fenia strode confidently over to the innkeeper, who had been looking at us with a broom in her hand. “Hello. We would like to rent a room in this beautiful inn.”
“New to Whiterun?” An elderly man appeared from the cellar steps, and smiled at us. “Of course you may rent a room!”
“Thank you.” Fenia dipped her head. “We’ll pay you… tonight? Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is fine, thanks.”
“Okay then,” Fenia yawned.
“Here,” the man said, gesturing to a small room with a big bed and a few shelves. “Make yourselves at home.”
As Fenia and I unpacked our bags, we chatted. “They seem rather nice,” I noted. “When you’re an assassin, don’t get too close to people,” Fenia warned. “The next day, you might get assigned to kill them.”
I fell silent at this. I was still unaccustomed to being called an assassin, and I felt guilty whenever someone mentioned killing.
I slipped under the blankets and yawned. “We should get a good night’s sleep.”
Fenia nodded, and shimmied in next to me. “Of course.”
And we slept.



I felt a hand gently shaking me awake. I yawned and blinked open my eyes.
A handsome, young Nord was standing above me. He had a long, curved sword strapped to his back and startling blue eyes.
“Are you Astrid?” he asked in a gruff tone. “Um… yes…” I replied nervously.
“Good. I was sent to escort you to the Sanctuary. First—prove to me that you are truly Astrid.”
“Um… how?”
“Your friend will know how. Why don’t you wake her up?” It sounded like a challenge.
I stood up, and grabbed my dagger from the shelf. Even though the blade had been cleaned by Fenia’s enchantment, it still shone faintly with dried blood. I flashed the knife at him.
He studied it lazily. “Mhm. Yeah, you’re Astrid.”
Fenia awoke a minute later, and the man—who introduced himself as Arnbjorn—told us that we should get going.
“Leave the gold on the counter, and then meet me outside the gates,” he instructed. It was early dawn—no one was quite awake yet.
I wasn’t sure if I liked this Arnbjorn figure yet, but he was a Dark Brother, and I had to follow and trust him.
Fenia quietly placed some gold pieces on the counter, and we slipped out into the cold dawn air, following a path that leads to the gate.
When we got there, the guards let us out without blinking an eye. “Bye,” one of them said.
I glanced around. A tree was beside us, and I peeked around the trunk. Arnbjorn leaped out at me, making me squeal with fear.
Arnbjorn grinned at me, and I saw something new in him. He may be gruff, but he was impish and tricky, and… I kind of liked him.
I giggled as Fenia rounded the tree. We immediately stopped laughing at the look on her face. “SHH! What if he was caught? He may well be a well-known and feared assassin that many people want arrested!”
Arnbjorn looked down. “I’ve never assassinated anyone yet, other than a few wolves, which don’t count, and one hunter,” he mumbled. “The only reason I’m in the Dark Brotherhood is because I was born there.”
There was a long silence. “Oh…” Fenia blushed, looking embarrassed and full of pity.
We started down the road that leads to Falkreath, Arnbjorn looking moody.
“I’m sorry,” started Fenia, but Arnbjorn glared at her and she tapered off.
I saw a traveler or two. One was an Argonian, and he offered me some skooma. “It’ll keep you here for a while, pretty one.”
I shook my head and hurried on.
Arnbjorn glared at the Argonian as I caught up to the others.
“He has some pride,” he muttered. “But not as much as me!”
Before I could stop him, he drew his sword and charged at the Argonian.
Fenia yelled, but the Argonian was ready. The Nord and the Argonian began to fight, slashing with their swords.
I screamed, and was about to run into the fray and pull them apart, until the Argonian got a lucky strike in.
Arnbjorn gasped as blood ran down his leg. He fell back and groaned.
That was when I drew my dagger and charged.
I leaped over Arnbjorn, shielding him from harm. The Argonian blinked.
“You’ve messed with the wrong society,” I warned him. “The Dark Brotherhood will—soon enough—have your blood.”
And, on that happy note, I grabbed Arnbjorn’s arm and dragged him away.