Frey sulked through the busy streets of Wayrest, kicking at rocks and cursing the ones hawking their wares. Her fish she hadn't sold had since gone bad during her little stay in the prison and since that bastard guard, Pausic Maltenne, had also taken all of her gold, she would go hungry until she snagged more fish to sell. Or eat herself. Although she wasn't particularly a fan of fish anymore.
As she walked, Frey glanced around and glyphs occasionally flashed before her eyes. They were the hidden markers of the Thieves' Guild, used to communicate houses prime for picking and those which had already been looted. Once upon-a-time, Frey was a thief in Daggerfall. In her early teen years she was in and out of people's homes, taking advantage of the glyphs she saw that others missed. Picking pockets was a snap. But eventually it became just as much about the thrill as it did the money and Frey grew too bold and got caught. Several times. Eventually, the guards knew to look for her and could pick her out of the crowd. Eventually, she picked up and moved to Wayrest.
Wayrest appealed to Frey's wealthy sensibilities and the Breton just knew she would make it big there.
Within a week she was swiping food. Within two, she was following the glyphs again.
And she was lucky. On one fateful night she chose a prime house and slipped into the second floor window... right into the bedroom. And the man inside it wasn't asleep. He calmly rose from his desk where he was writing documents, and pulled a sword off the wall.
"I'm afraid it's a bit late for me to entertain visitors," he said. Panicked, Frey grabbed a spear the man had resting in the corner.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't have you calling for the guards."
Amusement flashed in the man's eyes. "You're going to kill me?"
"If I must," Frey replied. "If I just leave, you'll call for the guards and give them my face."
"Are you with the guild, little girl?" The man asked.
"I work alone," Frey replied and readied the spear.
They stood, facing each other, and time stood still. The man was twice Frey's size: broad and covered with thick muscle. His hair, so fair it was nearly white made his blue eyes all the more piercing in the semi-darkness. A Nord... Scars decorated the exposed flesh of his arms, hands, neck, and even his face in a crude hatch-work pattern and a thick mustache covered his lips and made reading his expression nearly impossible. Frey shook. And then the fear made her mind snap and moved her body into fight mode.
She attacked him, swinging wildly as tears flowed from her cheeks. The man stepped out of the first two swings. On the third swing, the man caught the shaft of the spear just below the tip. Frey pulled with all her might but couldn't budge it. The man lifted his arm and swung wide, sending Frey flying off the other end. She collided with a nightstand and broke a vase. Frey slid to the floor, feeling shards of glass in her arms and blood on her fingers.
"I thought you were going to kill me?" The man asked. "I haven't even had to use my sword."
Frey sobbed and lay on his floor with blood pooling under her arms. Visions of prison flashed in her eyes again. Perhaps something worse would happen. She heard the man sigh and walk away. When she looked up he placed the spear on the wall by the stairs and went down to the first floor. Frey could hear her heart pounding and imagined that it must be amplified by the floorboards. A few minutes later she heard steps on the stairs and imagined a guard must be coming to take her away. But it was only the nord again, and he was carrying a bowl and a cup.
"Here," He said, and set the stew and milk in front of her. Frey's eyes widened at the delicious smell and she slowly sat up. She picked up the bowl and tilted it to her mouth. The gravy was thick and meaty with plenty of rabbit and packed with vegetables. It warmed her from the inside and the milk, tangy and refreshing, cooled her down. As she ate, the man watched her then raised a hand and produced a ball of magic light. The light surrounded Frey and healed the cuts from the vase.
He waited for her to finish, then the two of them sat on the floor of the bedroom and stared at one another.
"Why?" Frey said at last. "Why are you helping me instead of sending for the guards?"
"Because you are a child," the nord replied. "You are not innocent, I do not think. But you do not deserve what the guards would give you." Frey cast her eyes to the floor as shame flushed her cheeks.
"Thank you..." She muttered.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Frey," the girl said. "No last name. The guards in Daggerfall called me Frey Fox... As a joke..."
"I see," he replied calmly. "Well, Frey, was that your first real fight? With weapons?"
Frey nodded.
"Were you scared?"
Frey nodded again.
"You were terrible," he said. "But..."
She looked up.
"You show promise. So I want to cut you a deal... I won't go to the guards and tell them you tried to rob me, and you... you will become a gladiator."
"Why?" Frey asked.
"Because it provides you a place to live and you'll earn your own money," he said. "If you win, you'll make even more. How does that sound?"
"Did you used to be a gladiator?" she asked, looking at all of his scars.
"A long time ago," he said. "And I can train you. Deal?"
"Deal," Frey replied. The man smiled.
"I am Valdar Alfensen," he said. "Welcome to me home, Frey Fox."
For ten years after that lucky night, Frey's life became a string of days training and fighting and being put on display for gamblers. She trained in the sword and the spear but favored the spear and Valdar taught her magic that was helpful in a fight. Frey could be described as nothing better than average. She was good enough to win, but there was always someone better. After a ten year career, she retired and took up fishing for a merchant family.
As she approached Alerdal Ancove's general store dread settled in her stomach. She opened the door and Alerdal's wife Behr looked up from behind the counter and scowled.
"Where have you been?" Behr asked angrily. "Alerdal's been asking for you all week and just two days ago I have Thalmor agents in here asking questions about you!"
"I'm sorry, Behr," Frey said. "I was in the prison."
"What for?"
"Apparently I stole and sold an important scroll?"
The look of rage and indignation on Behr's face kicked all of Frey's fighter senses into high alert.
"Thievery!? Not from our employees!" She said. "We absolutely cannot have that kind of stain on our reputation!"
"Please, Behr, it was an accident. I didn't know," Frey stammered. "Please don't fire me, I don't have any money."
Behr's temper waned and the woman sighed. She pulled out her coin purse and set five gold on the counter.
"I will give this to you. It will not hurt us to give up five gold, but you are fired. Take this and do not come back to our store for work," she said. Solemnly, Frey walked forward and took the coins.
"Thank you for your kindness," she said. Behr nodded curtly and then shooed her out of her shop.
Five gold coins... At least she could eat for the night and return to fishing tomorrow. Perhaps she could find another merchant to sell fish to. She pocketed the money and decided to make her way to the Cloudy Dregs Inn for a meat pie and an ale.
A woman in magnificent armor rode past her on her way and Frey admired the woman's horse and wondered, briefly, how much coin she had in her pockets...
But the horse and its rider soon passed and Frey walked to Inn with her hands by her sides.
_________________ "Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder." ~ RumiMy Resume
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