Elder Scroll series Rendezvous with Destiny

Well, I'm not dead. In case anyone was wondering. And here I have another story which I _hope_ to finish, but am not making any promises on. Psychotic fairies aren't very good at this business of staying focused, unfortunately. Well, however long this lasts, I hope you enjoy it!

**Description: **What if there were two heroes? What if one was a greedy, charismatic thief, and the other a righteous, stubborn Imperial Legionnaire? Can they put off killing each other long enough to save Tamriel and put Martin on the throne? My Oblivion PCs. TOGETHER. Adventure, humor, tenuous friendship, and_ maybe_ eventual romance are in store for this very... interesting duo.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion. The Elder Scroll series is the property of Bethesda, and if I owned it, Martin never would have died, and there would be more plot twists. The only benefit I'm gaining from this story is my own amusement at seeing two very different and yet quite similar characters butt heads.**

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><p>Shopkeepers in the Market District of the Imperial City are well aware of how tantalizing their shop wares are to thieves. Knowing this, most live in apartments on the upper floors of their shops in the hopes they'll hear a thief trying to break in, and employ complicated locks on their doors to help prevent the breaking in in the first place. The Imperial Watch patrols the streets heavily, carefully watching the shops and alleyways between for anyone with less than noble intent. All this should have been a deterrent to any thief who wanted to stay out of the Imperial Prison.<p>

However, some thieves are just desperate enough to try, or in this case, angry enough.

'_That good for nothing bastard!'_ thought a thief of the latter group as she carefully teased the five tumbler lock on a heavy wood door. _'Good deal, Mara's pretty little butt! That necklace was worth twice what he gave me!' _The sign above her read _Red Diamond Jewelry_ in flowing script, with a painted carving of a beautiful red gem gracing the background. The sign was carved with skill, and the artistry was exquisite, much like the good's inside the store. Normally the thief wouldn't bother with this store, or any of the others. She was friends with the most of the store owners in the district, and despite how much their wares might tempt her quick little fingers and greedy nature, she had no interest in risking a visit to the Imperial Prison. Not before tonight, anyway. One ill turn after another had seemed to crop up everywhere she turned for weeks, and today had been the final straw in breaking her usually solid self-control. It was too much. If fate wanted to toy with her, she could toy right back, and this act of defiance – stealing back the necklace – had been the only thing she could think of.

The clatter of boots on stone caused the thief to freeze, pausing her skillful fingers in the midst of their delicate work of coaxing the lock open. A lone Imperial Watchman marched down the street, heading her way. The shop wasn't right on the street, but rather in a small courtyard adjoining the street. Still, it was closest to the street, and the most easily visible doorway from the Watchman's point of view. Torchlight shone on the door in front of her as the Watchman strode toward her position, but she dared not turn her head. The chameleon charm she bore was powerful, but if she were to move the Watchman might see her blurred, barely visible form in the bright torchlight; she prayed he hadn't already. The thief stared intently at the lock before her, taking only the smallest and most silent breaths she could as the Imperial Watchman's torchlight grew brighter on the door before her. The chameleon charm allowed the torchlight to pass through her body, therefore not leaving a shadow, but she hadn't lived this long under the radar only to be caught because she wanted to watch what could possibly be her doom approach.

Suddenly one of the tumblers she had already clicked into place fell down of its own accord, creating an audible click. The thief almost let out a gasp, but caught herself, holding her breath instead as the footsteps, now almost upon her, stopped. The tension in her cramped muscles now seemed to spread to the surrounding cool night air.

The torchlight shifted ever so slightly, and then grew ever brighter as the footsteps of the Watchman resumed… heading straight for her! Her heart leapt into her throat now, every muscle and sinew in her body was screaming for her to run, but like a frightened rabbit she remained frozen, praying the pursuing predator wouldn't see her if she stayed still. Too bad for both the thief and the rabbit, that particular tactic doesn't always work.

"Is someone there?" called the Imperial Watchman in a deep, commanding, all too familiar voice as he walked closer to the doorway in which the thief was hidden. The thief knew that the Watchman would not be able to come much closer without seeing her, and her fears were confirmed when she heard the rasp of steel against steel, undoubtedly his sword being drawn from its sheath.

"Show yourself, whoever you—!"

_'So much for prayers,'_ the thief thought as she bolted from the doorway, springing past the surprised Watchman to the street, leaving her lock picks still in the door, just waiting for someone to come and finish easing the last two tumbler into place. _'And the tumbler that fell,'_ she thought distractedly as she sprinted down the street and ducked into an alley, praying the Watchmen wouldn't find her immediately. _'Damn lock smiths. Always pulling new tricks on us poor thieves who are just trying to make a living.' _

The shouts of Watchmen filled the night air, waking several shop owners and bringing them to their doors to see what the fuss was about.

"This way!"

"I saw something move over there!"

"Can we help?"

"Down that alley!"*

She wasn't going to escape this time. That much was obvious to the thief as she listened to the din in the streets with a pounding heart. She'd never escape the District. The heavy doors, meant to slow invading armies, required two strong Legionnaires to open them. One scrawny thief was no match for the bulky doors. But she wasn't willing for her marvelous tools to be confiscated by the Imperial Legion. Her beloved chameleon robe, which she had stolen from a high-ranking Mages Guild official, was just the beginning of the rare items she valued more than gold. Creeping swiftly through the garden between two shops, she made for the only nearby place where she could safely hide her items until they could be retrieved, if not by herself, then by someone who needed them. The thief may not have held much faith in the Nine, or even the Daedra, but she was a firm believer in fate, whether she appreciated the way it toyed with her or not.

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Tamrik Barsellus did not believe in fate. Neither did he believe in luck or chance. In his mind, everything that happened was by the will of the gods. He was raised in the city of Chorrol, where his family faithfully attended the Chapel of Stendarr. The tenants of faith which he grew up with inspired him to join the Imperial Legion when he became old enough.

Life as a Legionnaire was everything he'd dreamed it would be and more. He'd been molded from an eager, bumbling boy into a confident, capable soldier. He defended the citizens of the Empire from enemies both foreign and domestic, and helped make the Empire strong.

And on nights like this one, he protected the innocent from criminals. He breathed in the cool night air, scented with Sacred Lotus blossoms growing in the pool below him. Crouching, he silently moved forward, weapon at the ready as he slowly closed in on a bush that had rustled with movement moments ago. He stepped carefully on the short grass, keeping off the stone path, lest his boots clink against the stone and alert his prey. In passing thought, he prayed the person hiding in the bush really was the thief he was searching for, and not some frightened citizen.

"Come out!" Tamrik said with authority. No movement from the bush, no sounds. He dearly hoped someone _was_ under the bush, and he wasn't just talking to shrubbery. After a tense moment he opened his mouth to sound the order again, just as the bush shuddered and a young Dunmer woman emerged, dark red hair tousled, leaves and twigs tangled in hair that had fallen loose from her tight braid. Even in the dark, Tamrik recognized the elf in an instant.

"Destiny?"

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><p>* In my head this line is screamed in a Monty Python fake-woman-voice. I don't know why...<p>

Well, there's the first chapter. Rather short, I know. I'll explain how Tamrik and Destiny know each other in the next chapter, and also get the ball rolling on this story. I'm going to try and stick to the main storyline for this, with mentions of Thieves Guild, Fighters Guild, and Dark Brotherhood quests.

I should have an update within the next two weeks. My muse is really enjoying this story, and so should pop in with little inspiring bits often enough to get the next chapter cranked out soon.

God bless!

~THE Psychotic Pyro Fairy


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Elder Scroll series, Adventure, Humor