Treasure Beyond Treasure

Edit: I initially posted this story in an incomplete format. This is the finished version with a more... satisfying(?) ending. If you haven't played the game, and intend to in the future, please play it FIRST, otherwise I will have spoiled the plotline for you. If you don't intend on playing it, I suggest you do, it's fantastic.

This is my first fanfic, based on the Thief: Deadly Shadows video game featuring Garrett, master thief -- who is not my character... neither are the Hammerites, Auldale, Pavelock, The Clocktower, Keepers, City Watch, Inspector Drept, or anything else in his world -- mixed with a Rumpelstiltskin-esque/Midas storyline.

Enjoy.

Debrief: So, my fence, Heartless Perry, cued me in on a little shipment that came through for the Duke of Auldale. And not just any shipment: a girl with magic fingers. Rumor is, she can spin any thread into gold; handy little trick, one that would be safer with me. If it's true, this could be a heist to retire on. Of course, the Duke is keeping her locked up in the North tower of his estate. But when has a lock ever stopped me?

Liana looped the thread through the bobbin again, blood staining the pristine wool. Biting back tears, she spun the wheel, rolling her ruined fingers to make the yarn. The wheel pulled it in as fast as she could manage, taking in the glistening thread hungrily, as impatient as the Duke.

At her feet lay the culmination of her work this eve: nine skeins of pure gold.

He wanted fifteen before the sun rose, and Liana didn't know if her fingers would last. That was her charge, until the Duke deemed it otherwise.

Throughout the day, she slept and tried to eat, but at night was when the magic happened. Only under a waxing moon could she perform it, so her father learned and sold her to the highest bidder. A thousand gold pieces brought him and his family out of poverty, while Liana worked her fingers raw, paying for their freedom.

The wool in her hand was thinning, so she plucked more from the endless pile, twirling it with the old to continue the strand. As the thread passed through her fingers, it changed and glistened, no sign of the blood or tears required to make it.

Each day, she looked out her tower window, finding it harder to resist a long drop and a quick stop. The Duke would surely work her to death, unless she took it into her own hands. The only other exit was guarded day and night, so she saw little of a world that cared naught for a magicked farmgirl.

The servant delivered supper, but she could not bring herself to eat.

Then the bobbin caught, stopping the wheel with a resounding clunk.

Liana crumbled, holding her bloody fingers and sobbing into the darkness. She drew away from the accursed instrument and leaned against the window frame. The Duke hadn't bothered installing glass or bars, as if to taunt her, beckoning her to the cobble below.

"I wouldn't do that," a gruff voice echoed from the darkness.

Liana whipped around to face the source, swiping tears away. "Who's there?" still clutching her hand, she put her back to the cold stone. "I'll scream and the guards will come." She warned.

"They're a little preoccupied, at the moment." A shadow crossed from the door, and disappeared.

"What do you want?" she whispered, fresh tears springing up, blurring her vision. "If you're here for the gold, take it, it's the Duke's, anyway." The work had made her fingers weak, but fear made them tremble.

A hand closed over her mouth and pressed her against the stone. Another hand grabbed her bloody one, turning it up into the moonlight, "They did a number on you," the hand over her mouth relaxed, tracing the edge of her jaw, "how long have you been up here?"

Her chin trembled at the intruder's touch, "a fortnight..."

In the dark, she saw two eyes gleaming back at her, one human, and one... "The Duke is making you do this every eve?" the brighter eye shone in the moonlight.

Liana nodded mutely.

"How would you like to spin your own gold, for a change?" The voice whispered, "You don't need to be locked away."

She looked at the pile of gold skeins, then at the stranger, "You're stealing me?"

A crooked smile flashed beneath his intense eyes, "It's what I do."

*

He led her down the long stairwell, dim without the torches ablaze.

Liana saw neither guard nor servant as she was swept through the castle. Near the entrance, he put a finger to his lips and placed her in a corner, "Stay here." His voice barely a whisper in her ear. And he was gone, vanished into the shadows.

She held a bag with the few things they allowed her: a journal, an inking set and her quill, three skeins of her golden wool, and her mother's locket, useless on the market, but sentimentally, it was priceless. The thief had taken the remaining skeins so the Duke couldn't prosper from her efforts. Liana prayed he was not as cruel a master as the Duke of Auldale, or she'd find a way to end her servitude.

A gargling cry echoed down the hall, cut off by a ragged exhale.

Someone shouted, blaring orders. When no response came, a burly voice shouted, "Fine! If that's how you want it." followed by the heavy clink of armor.

Liana could give up now, step into the light and be reclaimed by the Duke's man, but something made her hesitate. Perhaps it was the promise of creating her own wealth, or the gentleness with which the thief had spirited her from the tower. She held her bloody hand to her heart and breathed slow, trying to blend into the stonework.

A clash of steel on steel made her jump. What if the guardsman won? Perhaps the thief was caught, made to confess? Liana could play at having been coerced, as to avoid the Duke's wrath, but the guard would be doubled, and she might be shackled to her wheel.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she listened for the fight. After the guard struck, it sounded as if he'd lost his target. "Trying to steal the Duke's goods, are you? You're not getting away, this time." The door to the tower entrance opened next to her, and a bright torchlight illuminated the stairwell.

Liana held her breath.

The guard's eyes roved over the shadows where she hid, "What are you doing down here?" A mail gauntlet reached for her as she yanked away, and stumbled up the steps in her silk dress. "Hey!" he called, clanking after her, "Come back!"

She almost made it to the top step before the dress tripped her. Falling hard on one knee, she twisted in time to see the guard loom over her.

"Trying to sneak away?" he glowered.

Liana shielded her face, but the mail grip never closed in. She glanced up, seeing the guardsman choking on something, holding his throat. A shadow loomed behind the guard, one eye bright in the shadows. The thief released the dagger from the guard's throat and let him fall down the stairs, smearing a trail of blood on the steps.

"That was the last of them," he whispered, offering a hand, "you coming?"

He whisked her into the shadows beneath the windows and through the servant's entrance. The cook was awake, preparing something in a big pot and mumbling to himself.

Liana was led out the back, and into the quiet streets illuminated by the moon above. Her knee gave them trouble, so the thief slowed to her pace.

"Where are we going?" she whispered, leaning against a back-alley wall.

"To a safehouse," he murmured, "Then I'll take you out of the city. Have you seen the ocean?" She shook her head, having grown up too far inland to have ever visited. "Then we'll-" he froze, glancing out at the street, "Don't move."

The thief used his body to shield her from the light as a city watch passed, on the hunt. Pressed like this against him, she could smell beaten leather and torch oil. Her golden hair would be visible in the firelight, and so he covered it with a wrapped hand.

When the guard was out of sight, he guided her through the narrow alley and into a dim space, "The safehouse is there," he pointed up at a sheer wall, no ladder or stairs.

He took the bag from her and flung it up, it landed on the roof. "Hey," she hissed, "What on earth are you-" She squealed as he hoisted her over his shoulder, his hand clamped firmly over her thigh. "Put me down," she demanded, her voice resonating against the stone.

"Quiet," he warned, "and hold on."

The thief found gaps in the stonework and ascended the wall, one foothold at a time. The higher he climbed, the more her heart sank. The drop from the tower was almost a romantic leap, certain to kill her on contact. But a fall from this height would only break her damaged leg, and none of the healers could fix bones, not even with their magic.

At the top, he set her down, grabbed her things and led her forward. The thief opened the door to an old attic, a single candle shown at the far wall, above an empty fireplace.

"Make yourself comfortable," he murmured, removing his cloak.

Liana watched him warily, not sure what to think. "What is your name?" she asked, finding a seat next to the frigid fireplace and folding her legs to her chest.

The thief dropped his hood back; that strange eye observed her, "Garrett," he said, "You'll need time to heal before spinning again."

She glanced down at her hands, finally forming scabs, "I work for you, then?" Her heart ached. Liana was a prize, nothing more in a city so corrupt, that she had to be saved from a Duke by a thief. "Perhaps you should have let me jump."

Garrett turned his back on her, starting a fire. "What brought you to the Duke's court?"

She looked away, "My father. Sold me for a thousand gold crowns to him, after they found out what I could do..."

"Where are they, now?"

"My family?" she scoffed, "I haven't a clue. Father married another woman after our mother died. She was the one that suggested the trade. They auctioned me off like cattle..."

Garrett didn't respond to her gripe, opting for silence. He struck flint against steel to light the carefully prepared logs in the fireplace.

Liana warmed her hands over the blazing fire, glad that her work was done for the evening. "What's wrong with your eye?"

It roved to her, and then back at the fire, "It's false," he admitted, "a fanatic used mine for a spell, so the Hammerites made me a new one."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be, it works better than the old one, anyway. You hungry?" he asked, taking a loaf off the shelf, "It's not much, but I can get more tomorrow,"

The fine foods back at the Duke's had been so salty, it hurt her stomach. "Yeah," she conceded, her gut rumbling. He cut off a rind and handed it to her, slicing a chunk for himself. She chewed on the rough crust, considering what to say first to her new captor. "What will you do with the gold?"

His chewing stopped, "There's a fence that buys metals. I'll sell it to her tomorrow, get good coin for it." Garrett almost said more but took another bite instead.

"Did you mean what you said?" She asked, "Back in the tower?"

"I did." He nodded, undoing the straps from his rough hands.

"Then I'm free?" Liana hoped he did not mean to keep her forever.

His jaw twinged, "Not exactly." He admitted, "You've already seen the risks when someone finds out about your... ability. Do you want to be hunted your whole life?"

She opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it, dropping her head. "No,"

"There's a place by the sea," he started, "It's been vacated recently, up for sale. There's a lot of space there, and it's right by the beach. Ten of your skeins will pay for a year, and no one would bother you, not even me. I only ask that you spin me a few each month, leave them someplace hidden."

"What would you do?" Liana inquired.

"I'm good at disappearing," he shrugged, leaning back against his chair. "and thieving."

"And killing," she couldn't forget the look on the guard's face.

"That, too."

*

Liana did as he instructed and paid for the house, which was bigger than even the Duke's castle. And as promised, he left her alone, save she leave two skeins a month near a private dock. A tax for her life, and for the wealth she possessed.

Over the first year, she did it gladly. It was no huge feat to pay him twenty-four measly skeins, and even less now, that she'd begun a shipping business with some of the funds. Though Liana needn't ever touch the wheel again, she did so for Garrett, who'd only ever had one stipulation for her. Two skeins a month.

Sometimes she waited out on the balcony to watch for him, trying to get a glimpse of him taking the payment. Though she kept a keen eye, never once did she spot him. But the pay was always gone before morning, and none of the servants knew anything about the transactions.

By the second year, it had become ritual.

Liana sometimes made a guardsman take the box out to the drop spot, locked up tight. It would be no trouble for the thief, she knew, for he'd yet to announce his dissatisfaction.

One of the servants, Sasha, seemed to be catching on to the monthly deposit. She asked about it one evening, shortly before Liana's bath.

"What's the payment for, ma'am?" Sasha brushed her golden hair, which had grown long in the last two years.

"Hm?" Liana asked, distracted, enjoying the soft bristles against her scalp.

"You leave something out at the dock every month. Sometimes you send Bailey, ma'am. It's payment, isn't it?"

She saw her own face harden in the mirror, "Who told you that?"

"No one," Sasha shrugged, "It's the same time every month, that's all."

"It's a private matter," Liana relaxed, "Nothing to worry about,"

"Is it for your family in the city?" Sasha pried, not maliciously, but naively. "That's what some of the others say... sorry," the girl looked down, embarrassed, "it's not my place to ask."

She smiled, patting the girl's arm, "Yes," Liana thought about her surviving brothers and sister, who'd since depleted the riches their father left. He died shortly after the money had been delivered, under mysterious circumstances. They sometime wrote and begged for funds, but she'd never send them. "That's what I'm doing. Don't tell anyone I told you, though. You know what I think about gossip." The scolding might put her off for a little while.

"Yes'm."

By the fourth year, she'd neither seen or heard from Garrett, though the payments disappeared regularly. Liana grew fed-up waiting for him to surface again. There was rumor enough in the city of his activity, usually when great heists were discovered. Even if he didn't do it, he was blamed.

But he never made an appearance.

Garrett was getting far too comfortable, and Liana decided to shake him up.

On the first of a windy October, she skipped a payment. She expected to hear from him straightaway, but nothing happened. As the fall days dragged on, the silence became maddening. Perhaps he knew she meant to pull his strings, or he'd enough wealth to stop caring.

Either way, her mood soured when she realized he might never surface.

Liana skipped November's payment out of spite.

The servants knew well-enough to give her space as she brooded in the library. She could not enjoy the books as she once did, nor the transactions of her business, leaving them to the head captain. Her fingers itched to spin again, but she refused, angry at the cursed gift that had gotten her into this predicament in the first place.

Liana glanced up at the old grandfather clock, nearing its midnight chimes. The fire in the fireplace, built by the servants, roared and served all the warmth she needed.

"I've been wondering," a voice emanated from the shadows, "if you've grown senile these past months." After all the years she waited to hear his voice, she nearly laughed at the sound of it.

"Can a woman lose her mind by the age of twenty and four?" she retorted, not the slightest perturbed by his presence.

"Some might argue it," Garrett was lounged in the corner chair, shrouded in shadows. She wondered if he knew it was left for him. "You want something from me?"

She leaned forward, "I grow weary of my gold disappearing without a word from you. I wondered if you were not in Pavelock on trumped charges."

"I have not had the misfortune," his voice came close to a chuckle, "is that all?"

Her smile faded, "Are you so eager to leave?"

Garrett did not answer, as if for a moment he'd never been there, "You've made quite a name for yourself, Liana." His words rang out of the shadows, "It's spoken often in the city,"

"Money is power," she glanced at where his face might be, "it runs the city, and everyone in it."

"True, but," he conceded, "not everyone. I do expect the payments to continue next month?"

"And what if they don't?" She stood, her core trembling out of anger, "Surely you've had enough to satisfy your greed."

"It's the principle," He was no longer in the chair, but somewhere behind her, "I saved you, you pay me. This is a business transaction."

Garrett's words stung, "I don't spin anymore, except when I create your payments." She stepped into the darkness, into his kingdom, "If ever I was at your mercy, it is now. Take the payment from my flesh and blood, if you will, but I will not touch the wheel again. There is no more money for you."

Silence built and she wondered if he made for the nearest exit. The midnight chimes filled the room, making her jump. When they were finished, silence ensued.

Rounding the couch, she dashed the flames out with a pitcher of water, poking at the coals until they ceased glowing. Tracing the edges of the bookshelves, she felt her way to the bedroom, when she ran into a figure that smelled of beaten leather.

Garrett caught her, "The money isn't all that kept me coming back." A rough thumb traced over her jaw, stroking her chin. "I saw you looking for me, those first years. You stayed up all night. But you know it's impossible, what you crave."

Liana wanted to pound his chest and demand a sufficient explanation, but she did neither. Instead, a coldness gripped her heart, "I have more than enough for the rest of our lives."

"And it will keep you," he promised, "but I have a different pursuit, one that isn't satiated by being walled up. We are of two worlds."

"For one moment," she whispered, "can't they intertwine?"

"Be happy, Liana, find a husband. Surely you have a line of suitors hanging on your every word."

"I would only compare them to you," she reached into the dark for his face.

A hand caught her wrist, and then cupped her knuckles. The press of lips against them made her weak, "I never sold the skeins." He admitted.

"Why?"

"Because they are part of you," A kiss brushed the inside of her wrist, "and since I won't be getting any more..." he implied.

"Why do you fight me on this matter? If I were to see you, to hear your voice," She choked on the words, "I would spin day and night."

"And you would bleed. I have enemies that would be eager to hear of our connection. Servants talk." He warned, "They are no friend to anyone but themselves, and you are a woman of money."

"No one has to know."

He did not argue, and instead pressed her to the wall, kissing deeply. She melted into his raw passion. A hand gripped the tender flesh of her hip, kneading gently. When he pulled away, she was winded, and ecstatic. "You're beautiful," Garrett professed, "I'd be a fool to deny you."

"Then don't be."

His form disappeared into the blackness, "Goodbye, Liana."

"No," she reached into the empty space, "Garrett, come back." Dropping to her knees, she gripped the rug, golden hair falling into her face, "come back."

*

In January, she resumed spinning and left payments out for him, as she'd done for the last four years. Though she didn't stay up to look for him anymore, Liana would sometimes check the dock for signs of the thief, finding nothing.

But each month, like clockwork, the golden skeins disappeared.