#Delvin Mallory

[lordoftablecloths]

thieves guild my beloved

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Brynjolf: *sneaks into the Ragged Flagon at 2am*

Vex: *turns in swivel chair* Care to tell me where you were?

Brynjolf: I was with . . . uh . . . Delvin!

Delvin Mallory: *also turns in a swivel chair* Care to— *keeps spinning* Vex. Vex, I can’t stop the cHAIR—

[goopysoup]

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..do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?..

their reaction to someone / something hurting you

featuring: cicero, serana, miraak, the dragonborn (male), lydia, delvin mallory

[all are gender neutral, there’s cussing and some depressing things in Miraak’s, wounds and blood obviously]

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cicero

As you walk into the Dawnstar sanctuary, limping and hobbling through the hall until you reach the opening room where Cicero was humming as he tended to his sweet Night Mother. He hadn’t looked at you yet, thankfully, you weren’t sure if you could deal with him at the moment.

Painfully, you walk towards the alchemy table, planning on making a quick health potion to hopefully fix your injuries faster—

“Oh, Listener!” Cicero’s voice worriedly shouts as he rushes towards you, “my Listener is hurt, oh, Cicero should have gone with you!” He whines as he quickly makes you sit before he makes haste in checking your wounds. It wasn’t much, just a small gash on your calf. He tuts.

“Are they dead?” He asks, “let’s go kill them!” He giddily sings before you could even answer him.

.. When exactly did he start tending to your wound? You look down at the jester as he was pouring a minor health potion onto a rag before dabbing it gently on your wound. You forget how gentle he can be, he was the Keeper of the Night Mother, after all.

“Thank you..”

“Do not worry, Listener, Cicero is here to take care of you.”

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serana

Serana had grown used to being with you and the people you surrounded yourself with over the short time you’d been together. Well, as used to it as she could, she was still not quite used to being around anyone after being trapped in a tomb for a thousand or so years.

It was a peaceful day, she was reading a book while you were out at the market, taking a day off from all your adventures to spend time with doing chores and spending time with Serana. What the vampire hadn’t expected was for you to burst into the house, your body and clothes covered in blood. Her eyes widened as she saw you, the blood filling her nose as she felt her hunger grow.

“Are.. are you okay?—“ that was a stupid question, of course you weren’t! She quickly stands and grabs a rag and wets it with some water you had stored away before handing it to you as she covers her lower face with her hand. You nod and wipe away the blood, cringing when you wipe at your wound, “you should go,” you say, “I’ll be okay, I don’t want to tempt you.”

Reluctantly, she does as you say, feeling horrible for not being able to help.

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miraak

You were fucked. This was it.. you’d think with all the dragons you’ve killed that this was be a piece of cake, hm? Well, it wasn’t. Your heart clenched and raced as the dragon had somehow gotten the upper hand on you, something that rarely happened nowadays. You could just.. give up, couldn’t you?

Apparently not. Miraak had decided for you, moving in quickly as he slayed the dragon for you, his sword digging into the scales and crushing the skull of the massive creature with a yell. He would protect you, always. That’s what he’s told you when you convinced him to stop terrorising the world. Why hadn’t you just killed him?

“I hate you,” you mutter as you look up at him as he offers his hand to you to help you up. You don’t take it, your body ached and burned, you didn’t wish to stand yet. He shakes his head before he sits next to you, “you do not.”

Maybe he was right, “I don’t believe I’ll last much longer,” you say with a slight bit of dramatics, he laughs heartily, something you’ve been hearing more from him lately. It was nice, especially since he’d once tried to kill you.

“Well, you’ve made it this far, haven’t you? What’s another year, darling?”

“Hell.”

“Well then.”

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dragonborn

You’d known the Dragonborn for many months, you’d met him one day in Whiterun when he joined the companions. He’d asked you to follow him, to fight with him and you’d never really gone back. You’d both saved one another countless times, it was an amazing thing to follow along during his journeys.

You can’t say you were used to the Dwemer dungeons yet. The loud noises that echoed along the walls, the dwarven spiders and spheres, guardians and the damned falmer. You hated the falmer. Though, you’d never deny that the Dwemer technology hadn’t fascinated you, they were so advanced and it was endearing to learn about it all.

You’d been injured during a dungeon you’d both raided though earlier that day, as it was now nighttime as you both sat in a camp you’d set up. You held your stomach, keeping your injury a secret as to not worry the poor Dragonborn. He had enough to worry about with Alduin and the damned war.

“Are you alright?” You heard the Dragonborn ask, making you lift your gaze from the fire in front of you and drift towards him. You nodded, “fine.” He shook his head, “do not hide your wounds from me, let me see and tend to it.” Reluctantly, you allowed him to see it, perhaps your wound was worse than you thought.

“I will always take care of you, do not hide things like this from me. We are a team, love.”

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lydia

There weren’t many things Lydia and you haven’t done together, from fighting, looting, slaying dragons and draugr, even bathing after a particularly hard fight. She’d seen you at your most vulnerable and you her, she was your closest ally and friend— perhaps more at times.

“My Thane!” Lydia’s worried voice sounded through your ears just as you felt a blade pierce your side making you gasp. You felt the numbness after the sharp pain, the warm blood oozing from your wound before the hilt of that same sword hit against your head, affectively knocking you out.

You don’t know how long it took for you to gain consciousness again, to you it felt like mere seconds but that couldn’t be true. You were home again, back in Whiterun, “My Thane, you’re awake. I’m glad,” Lydia spoke as she approached with a healing potion and a bowl of warm soup, something easy to eat, “how do you feel?”

You groaned a bit as you moved to sit up, Lydia quickly setting the potion and bowl on your nightstand before she helps you, “be careful, you’re still healing,” she says worriedly. As soon as you were comfortable, she handed you the potion, “drink this first, my Thane,” she says before you take the potion.

“I’ve told you, you don’t have to call me that, Lydia,” you mumble before you drink the bitter tasting potion, letting it burn down your throat before your pain eases. She smiles before she hands you the soup to eat.

“My apologies, my dear.”

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delvin mallory

Delvin was one of your oldest friends, you knew of his history with the Dark Brotherhood as you’ve been part of the assassin group for many years. You had a history with him, but ultimately both of you had gotten busy with your work and it had momentarily ended. By momentarily, I mean it ended a few years ago and hadn’t rekindled.

You had a job in Riften, it was supposed to be an easy in and out assassination but apparently word got out and your target was more prepared than you were. Of course, your hit was successful as it always was, but you’d been badly injured. Thankfully, one of the members of the thieves guild had found you just as you’d blacked out and took you down to the ratway to have you tended to.

Your eyes peered open, your hand moving to clutch your left eye, groaning in pain, “hey, hey, easy,” the familiar voice of Delvin Mallory distracted you for a moment, your right eye looking over towards him, “Del?” You softly cried out. What had even happened? You couldn’t remember. Was your eye going to be okay? It felt too painful, what if you ended up blind?

“I’m here, love,” he cooed softly, “you’re going to be alright, yeah?” You only nodded, your right eye wanted to believe him but you both knew your eye was fucked.

“Yeah..”

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[elderscrollsconceptart]

Delvin Mallory Browser History

> Do workplace sexual harassment laws apply to illegal organizations

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch. 12

A Ghost From the Past

Prev: Ch.11 Misdirection || Next: Ch.13 Lacking in Virtue Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Brynjolf is used to dealing with Mercer's temper, but when an old enemy of the Guild resurfaces, not even he is prepared for the explosion that follows...or for its fallout.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 3,602

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

“You forgot to get intel from the girl before she left?” 

Brynjolf closed his hands into fists, forcing his face to remain a mask of calm. 

It was difficult; he was sore and exhausted after his long day of travel. When he’d arrived back at the Guild, he’d intended to share the good news that the payout from the Markarth job was likely to be double what they’d expected and then take a well deserved nap. Before he could get out a single word though, Mercer had asked him about the Solitude job. 

Which of course, he’d completely forgotten to get an update on before sending Ariene off to Markarth.

“What do you mean you FORGOT?!” Mercer shouted, and Brynjolf rolled his eyes.

“Is there another meaning of the word ‘forgot’ that I don’t know about?” he asked lightly, and Mercer glared at him. 

“Don’t test me right now Brynjolf, I’m not in the mood for your games.” 

“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” Brynjolf said with a sigh. “We were being watched in town, and the job turned out to be just as dangerous as Ariene feared. In all the excitement, the mission to Solitude slipped my mind.”

“I seem to recall one of your main arguments for going to help her was so that we could get the intel from Gulum-Ei sooner,” Mercer snapped. 

“She had to rendezvous–”

“Rendezvous with the client in Markarth, I understand that,” Mercer interrupted. “What I don’t understand is why you failed to do the most basic part of your job and get a report from her before heading back here.”

Brynjolf didn’t answer, mostly because deep down, he knew Mercer was right. He should have thought to ask Ariene about what Gulum-Ei said before letting her ride off into the sunset, but after their near death experience and subsequent conversation, he’d been more than a little bit preoccupied.

Mercer, apparently taking Brynjolf’s silence as confirmation of his suspicions, shook his head, his face twisted with distaste. 

“This is exactly what I was talking about,” he growled. “Gallus was getting sloppy towards the end too, you know.” 

“That’s not fair,” Brynjolf protested instantly. “I told you–”

“That this won’t turn out like last time? You don’t know that,” Mercer shot back. He huffed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, regardless of our differences, I don’t want you getting a knife in the back because you got distracted.”

“She saved my life, Mercer,” Brynjolf hissed. “What, you think now she’s going to turn around and murder me?”

“More than once, I’ve been burned by someone who used to have my back,” Mercer said simply. “In this line of work, loyalty means nothing.” 

Brynjolf opened his mouth to protest more, but Mercer waved his hand dismissively. 

“I’m not saying the girl will turn traitor, Brynjolf. Just that, so far? You’re not doing a great job of proving to me that she’s not a liability.” 

“So you’re just going to ignore her record?” Brynjolf asked. “Take a look around, Mercer. The Guild is finally starting to gain some footing again, and it’s nearly all thanks to her. She’s even managed to win over Vex and Delvin. Just because she reminds you of Karliah–”

“Don’t say her name,” Mercer cut him off, his eyes flashing with anger. “This isn’t about her.”  

Brynjolf ground his teeth in irritation, biting back his urge to reply:

Yes, it clearly is. 

Instead, he took a deep breath and folded his arms, fixing Mercer with a steady look. 

“So do you not want to hear about the massive payout we got from the Markarth job, then?” 

Mercer’s expression was still glowering, but at the mention of money, he raised a curious eyebrow. 

“Payout?” 

Brynjolf’s assurance to Ariene that coin would cheer Mercer up didn’t end up ringing completely true. Mercer was still angry, and Brynjolf’s haul of septims wasn’t enough to totally soothe his temper. However, the promise of even more coin when Ariene returned was enough to spare Brynjolf any further scolding.

He retreated from the cistern, and decided that what he really needed wasn’t a nap, but a drink. He made his way into the Ragged Flagon and fell into a chair, burying his face in his hands and letting out a frustrated groan. 

Delvin looked up from his table and grimaced in sympathy. 

“Mercer’s in a mood, I take it?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Brynjolf quipped as Vekel approached with a tankard for him.

“I think that when even coin isn’t enough to calm that rotten old skeever down, then it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep clear of him for a few days,” Delvin said, and Brynjolf snorted.

He took a sip of his ale, then looked at Delvin thoughtfully. As one of the few holdovers from the time that Gallus had been Guildmaster, the old thief had been a constant in the Guild for as long as Brynjolf could remember. He knew the younger thieves in the Guild thought the same thing about him and Vex now, but that was hard for him to wrap his head around. 

Brynjolf had been only nineteen when Gallus was killed, and had only been with the Guild for a few years. Just long enough to come to idolize Gallus, Mercer, and Karliah, but not long enough to really get to know them. Delvin, meanwhile, had been one of the Guild’s top members even in those days. He was even the first person that Mercer had made a lieutenant, though he had always been firm that he didn’t want to lead anyone. A sentiment that Brynjolf hadn’t understood at the time, but now that he was a lieutenant himself, he couldn’t help but  sympathize. 

Being a thief was hard enough; it was so much more daunting when you knew that everyone else was looking to you for direction.

A thought struck him, and he found himself wanting to ask something that he’d never really considered before.

“Delvin?” he asked, and the older man looked up. “Why exactly do you think the Guild is cursed?” 

Delvin looked surprised at the question, but he leaned forward, eager to have someone listen to his theories willingly. 

“It just ain’t natural, Bryn,” he insisted. “I’ve been doing this a long time, longer than even you or Mercer. I’ve seen bad thieves, and I’ve seen bad luck. This? It’s different. It’s affectin’ every single member of the Guild, even the most experienced. Vex got made on a job, for cryin’ out loud. Vex!”

“There were over a dozen guards…” Brynjolf offered lamely, but Delvin waved his protest away. 

“Guards, yes, but guards that she should have noticed sooner than she did. The fact that she didn’t is just plain bad–” 

“Bad luck,” Brynjolf finished, and Delvin nodded. 

“Exactly. And it’s like that every time. Things that shouldn’t happen, happenin’ to folks it shouldn’t happen to. Look, I know you lot think I’m crazy, but I can feel it. Something out there is doing this to us.” 

Brynjolf thought of the crypt in Pinewatch, of the way Rigel had appeared seemingly out of thin air without either of them noticing. It had certainly felt unnatural at the time. But how on earth could you be sure of something like that? 

Delvin swirled his mug of ale thoughtfully, then he smirked at Brynjolf. 

“At least, that’s what it has been like. I can’t deny that over the last few months we’ve actually been on the up and up, for what feels like the first time in ages. Maybe that girl of yours is some kinda good luck charm.” 

“She’s not my–” Brynjolf began, and Delvin chuckled, cutting him off. 

“Don’t give me that, Bryn. Maybe it ain’t official yet, but everyone knows the two of you’ll be an item soon.”

“Are you going to scold me about it like everyone else?” Brynjolf asked tiredly, but Delvin shook his head. 

“Nah. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a good match for you. Besides, she’s nearly single-handedly pulled this Guild outta the gutter. How could I complain? A word of advice, though.” 

Brynjolf leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow.

“Vekel I could understand, but what makes you qualified to advise me on my love life?”

“Very funny,” Delvin said flatly. “Look, all I was gonna say is this: the girl’s a free spirit. And you’ve gotta be quick to make your intentions clear with ladies like that, or you’ll find that they’ve slipped through your fingers.” 

“Do I pay you to sit around and gossip?” a familiar voice growled, and Brynjolf suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

Mercer walked up and grabbed a piece of bread off of the plate that Vekel was bringing Delvin, before dropping one of the ledger books in front of Brynjolf. 

“Look over this, and see if your projected take on this oh so special Markarth job will allow us to pay a portion of what Maven plans to give the jarl. She’s not too happy with the idea of paying for the entire bribe herself.”   

Mercer turned and stalked out of the cistern, and Brynjolf sighed. He reached a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples, then grabbed the ledger and stood up.

“You’re not actually going to work on that now, are you?” Delvin asked.

“Gods no,” Brynjolf said. “I’m going to bed. And if Maven and Mercer are lucky, I’ll wake up sometime before the fifth era and I can finish crunching their precious numbers for them.” 

— — — 

Brynjolf did not, in fact, sleep for hundreds of years. However, he did make himself scarce around the cistern for the next several days, opting to do his accounting work from the relative privacy of what passed for his quarters down in the Ratway tunnels that surrounded the Flagon. 

Fortunately, the gold he’d brought back did provide the Guild enough extra funds to foot half of Maven’s “donation” to Mistveil Keep, and Mercer’s mood improved considerably after the guard patrols were pulled back to their normal rotations. He didn’t apologize, Brynjolf could count on one hand the number of times the Guildmaster had done that, but at least he’d cooled down enough for Brynjolf to walk through the cistern again without being treated to withering glares and backhanded remarks. 

Still, when Ariene finally returned from Markarth, Brynjolf made sure to pull her aside before she went to report to Mercer. 

“It’s my fault, not yours, lass,” he said quietly. “But Mercer’s not pleased that he’s had to wait an extra week for the news from Solitude. Tread lightly, alright?”

Ariene’s face twisted in a grimace.

“Honestly, he could be in the best damn mood of his life and he’d be more livid than a cave troll after getting this news. No sense beating around the bush.” 

“Gulum-Ei didn’t have good intel?” Brynjolf guessed, but Ariene shook her head. 

“Worse.” 

She headed into the cistern without another word, and Brynjolf followed, unease stirring in the pit of his stomach. 

Ariene marched right up to where Mercer was bent over his desk, and the Guildmaster frowned at her as she approached. 

“About damn time you got back,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “Please tell me Gulum-Ei gave up some information on our buyer.” 

“He did,” Ariene said bluntly. “It’s Karliah.” 

Mercer’s head snapped up and the room went dead silent. 

“She’s the lieutenant you told me about, isn’t she?” Ariene said, looking at Brynjolf. “The one who murdered Gallus?”

“Aye, lass,” Brynjolf said quietly. “If she’s back…” 

His blood ran cold at the thought.

“You’re absolutely certain?” Mercer asked, his voice low and dangerous, and Ariene nodded. 

“Gulum-Ei acted as a go-between for her with Aringoth, though he swore up and down he didn’t know it was her until after he’d agreed to broker the sale.” 

Mercer swore and slammed his fist down on his desk, and Brynjolf didn’t miss the way Ariene flinched before quickly regaining her composure. 

“Damn that Dunmer to Oblivion! I hoped we’d never have to cross paths with her again, but it seems she won’t be satisfied until she’s destroyed the Guild for good. Did Gulum-Ei have any information about her current whereabouts?” 

“Nothing concrete,” Ariene said carefully. “But apparently she told him she was going ‘where the end began.’ I pressed him for details, but he insisted that’s all he knows.”

“Where the end began…” Mercer repeated, his face darkening. 

He began to pace back and forth behind his desk, muttering the phrase to himself over and over. Ariene glanced at Brynjolf, a questioning look in her eyes, but he could only shrug in confusion.

“There's only one place that could be,” Mercer said finally. “The place where Karliah killed Gallus over twenty years ago…a ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum.” 

“That’s a few hours north of Windhelm, right?” Brynjolf asked, and Mercer nodded absently, still muttering to himself. 

“I’m the only one left who knows all Karliah’s techniques, all her skills. If she manages to take me out…” He looked up sharply. “We have to go out there and stop her before she does anymore damage.” 

“We as in…?” Ariene asked hesitantly, and Mercer glared at her.

“As in you and me, obviously. We’re going to go out there together and kill her. That should put a stop to any more of her attempts to bring the Guild down.”

“Mercer,” Brynjolf cut in, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Mercer snapped. “This needs to be done, and I won’t hear any argument otherwise.”

“Aye, and I’m not saying it doesn’t, but the two of you can’t go on your own.” 

“I think you’ll find I can do whatever I damn well please, Brynjolf.” 

“This is Karliah we’re talking about, for Shor’s sake!” Brynjolf exclaimed. “She killed Gallus, and she almost killed you! Vex and I should–”

“I don’t need you to remind me what she’s done,” Mercer interrupted, shooting him a withering look. “I am well aware of exactly how capable she is.” 

“So don’t rely on one new recruit for your backup,” Brynjolf insisted. 

“A recruit who’s proven herself capable in combat multiple times over.”  

A part of Brynjolf urged him to back down. He argued with Mercer often, but he could always tell when it was best to put his own concerns aside in favor of the Guildmaster’s will. It wasn’t exactly good for morale if the underlings saw the Guild’s head and second in command fighting over decisions. This would ordinarily be the type of argument where he had to swallow his pride and concede. 

And yet, this time he found that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“Not three days ago you were complaining that she was a liability,” Brynjolf pressed. “Now you want her to help you hunt down Karliah?”  

“She’s a liability for you, Brynjolf,” Mercer growled. “I’ll be just fine. Which is it, exactly? That she’s a competent thief who deserves my respect, or a green recruit who has no business putting herself in danger? It seems to me the answer is whichever is more convenient for you in any given argument.” 

Brynjolf’s face burned, more from anger than embarrassment, though he could feel the eyes of everyone in the cistern on the two of them as they argued.

“You’re making a mistake,” he insisted, forcing himself to ignore the staring. “This isn’t just another job. Leave the lass behind and let me and Vex come with you.” 

“Karliah is trying to destroy the Guild! I’m not putting my best lieutenants in her path.” 

“You’re too close to this, Mercer,” Brynjolf hissed. “You’re not thinking straight. You shouldn’t–” 

“I am your GUILDMASTER!” Mercer roared. “I’ve made my decision, and you are in NO position to question me!”

The shout echoed around the cistern, and any murmuring from the other Guildmembers stopped instantly. Brynjolf and Mercer openly glared at each other, but before things could escalate further, Ariene’s voice cut through the rising tension. 

“It’s fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll go.” 

“Damn right you will,” Mercer spat without taking his eyes off Brynjolf. “Get your things ready and meet me at the stables within the hour.” 

Brynjolf felt a muscle jump in his jaw, but he didn’t speak or break their eye contact, and eventually Mercer turned and stomped out of the cistern. Brynjolf had half a mind to march right out after him, but Ariene’s hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Don’t,” she said quietly. “It’s not worth it.” 

“It’s not right,” Brynjolf said through gritted teeth, and Ariene shrugged, flashing a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but came off as slightly manic.

“Well, look at it this way,” she said, her voice full of false cheer. “Maybe after this, he’ll stop seeing me as a liability.”

She turned and started walking towards the Flagon, and Brynjolf winced.

Damn you, Mercer.

“You don’t have to do this, lass,” he said, falling into step beside her.

“Actually, I do,” Ariene said, ducking through the passageway and into the dingy tavern. “I think he’d kick me out of the Guild altogether if I refuse him.” 

Brynjolf shook his head immediately. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen. Mercer may be too dense to see it, but you’re one of the best we have.”

“I can’t let you use up all your good will with him on my account,” Ariene protested. “You’ve done enough for me already. Syndus!” 

The last was to the fletcher who kept shop beside the Ragged Flagon, who looked up as they approached his alcove. Ariene pulled a coin purse from the satchel at her side and held it up for him to see.

“I need fresh arrows. Two quiverfull.” 

The Bosmer quickly filled her order, and she pulled out a few coins from the purse and handed them over. She turned to Brynjolf and held out the rest of the purse to him. 

“Here. The profits from Markarth. I didn’t get a chance to report to Delvin, but tell him that Endon is happy to open whatever doors are necessary in the city. With any luck, we’ll be able to use the foothold there to start operating more in Haafingar.” 

Brynjolf took the purse, not missing the way that Ariene didn’t quite meet his eyes as she spoke. 

“Are you certain about this, lass?” he asked in a low voice. “Karliah’s too damn smart to let slip where she was going by accident…this is more than likely a trap.”

Ariene sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. 

“I know, but that’s a chance we'll have to take. Mercer is an asshole, but he’s also right. Putting more of the Guild’s leadership in harm’s way than is necessary doesn’t make tactical sense. It’s…it’s better for everyone if I’m the one to go.” 

Brynjolf moved without thinking, stepping forward and taking one of her hands in his. She startled at the touch, but she didn’t pull away. 

“You’re not expendable, lass,” he said softly. “You know that, right? I– the Guild needs you in one piece as much as it needs me or the other lieutenants.” 

Ariene’s looked from where their hands were joined up to Brynjolf’s face. Reflected torchlight danced in her eyes, so deep and blue that he felt as though he could drown in them, and he felt his pulse quicken.

“The Guild needs me?” she repeated, her voice low, and he swallowed. 

Standing inches apart, it was like all rational thought flooded from his mind in an instant. Absently, he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and he let his hand linger beside her face. It would be so easy to cup her cheek, lean forward and…

The creak of a door and sudden footsteps cut through the silence, and the two jumped apart on instinct. Brynjolf dropped her hand, wondering briefly if he was imagining the flicker of disappointment on her face. 

Damn this sewer’s lack of privacy!

“Well. Good luck, lass,” he said lamely.

She nodded, swinging one of the quivers of arrows she’d bought over her shoulder. The movement made her knapsack shift, and he saw the empty space on her belt where her steel dagger had sat. 

On impulse, he reached for his own belt, unbuckling the sheath of the dagger on his left side. He held the weapon out to her hilt first, and her eyes widened. 

“Here. To replace the one that broke in Pinewatch,” he said.

“I– Brynjolf, I can’t accept that. It was a gift!”

“A gift from Gallus,” Brynjolf agreed. “If you’re going out to avenge him, you may as well take a piece of him with you.”

Reluctantly, Ariene took the dwarven blade and strapped it into place. The silence between them stretched into awkwardness as she fiddled with the straps and straightened the sheath. 

“I guess I should go,” she said eventually. “Don’t want to keep the Guildmaster waiting.” 

She turned to leave, but before she could walk away, Brynjolf called after her. 

“Ariene.”

She looked back at him, and his breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt he had to say something before she left, something important, but for once in his life he couldn’t find the right words.

“Just…come back to me in one piece, alright lass?” 

She smiled, though the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Of course I will,” she said. “You still owe me a drink, remember?”

— — —

Prev: Ch.11 Misdirection || Next: Ch.13 Fic Masterpost

[carrotripley]

Thinking about the thieves guild in a modern setting.

It’s just a discord server called ‘the cistern 🐀 🐀’

Brynjolf is a romance scammer (because,, come on,,,)

Vex is a hacker, infiltrating those bank accounts.

Mercer does Ponzi schemes.

Delvin does standard break ins.

Tonilia sells what they steal.

Niurin runs a MLM, but it isn’t doing very well.

Rune steals bikes.

Vipir the fleet steals Amazon packages.

There’s a meme channel only thrynn posts in, and Mercer emoji reacts to every single post with a laughing emoji like the boomer he is (he doesn’t mean it)

Karliah was banned from the server after gallus’s dox was put out (by Mercer) and no one knows what happened to gallus.

Bryn, vex, Mercer and Delvin have a secret discord channel only they can view called ‘da vault 💰’ but it’s only use is for Delvin to react to thrynns memes in private (Delvin thinks they are very kek lmao.)

Mercer locks the server down with the message ‘kek u frens later, thievnons’

[finnyphcntom]

Skyrim Theives guild is my hyperfixation rn because. Like.

Okay, first, I'm looking at the parallels between Gallus and Karliah and Brynjolf and DB. Snow Veil witnesses the death of Gallus, Karliahs lover. Karliah is left forgotten and accused and hated for something she never did. They're three nightingales.

Then, the DB comes along, and realistically I honestly think its heavily implied that Brynjolf has a crush on DB. I think many lines of dialogue almost prove this. However, I will explain that in a bit. Back to parallels. The DB comes along- and again, its the big three of the guild: Mercer, Brynjolf, and DB. Picking up what Im laying down? Mercer, again, makes an attempt at DB life in Snow Veil.

I dont know if I need say more. Im fairly certain that the whole point of Mercer is that he is caught in a web of lies, and its almost the exact situation that leads to his demise.

Also, Im looking at it in the perspective of Brynjolf. I think its very clear that he has some sort of romantic feelings for the DB. Many lines of dialogue prove so;

"Ill send your regards to Brynjolf" -Mercer

"Everyone's been worried since you and Mercer haven't shown up in a while. Brynjolf went out to find you." -Vekel

The dialogue set where DB first enters the ragged flagon after starting the questline. The one where he is swearing up and down that DBis different than anyone else

" ... Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us ... " -Mercer

Him being concerned that Mercer wants to immediately throw you into Goldenglow

Following the conversation by, "You watch yourself on that island,"

Him promoting you to guild leader. Be real, over Vex, Delvin, and hell even him? It was stated that Vex and Delvin ran shit while Mercer was away. That man adores you, and maybe promoting you is his only way of repaying you

This one maaay be a stretch. But when he approaches you, he is persistent. Given he is a theif, he cant just... go around, well, telling everyone he's a theif. Maybe he thinks the DB is cute??? Wink wink shrug shrug nudge nudge. It does say that he did recruit a lot of people though, so maybe he is truly just dumb.

Im pretty sure that there is other dialogue that shows that Brynjolf is mourning your "death," but I just cant find it. However, in his mind, he subjected you to that. He was the one who recruited you; just to fall in love; just for you to die. Obviously, that may way on his conscious a bit. If he hadnt of recruited you, then you may not of shared that fate you did with Mercer. I think this is where the distancing comes into play- and its realistic too.

Also, realistically, he knows the DB is well, the DB. The DB is a celebrity, a hero. Has saved the world a million and one times, is thane in basically all nine holds, and naturally leads everything they do. Is allied with people of power (ex. Jarl Balgruuf, any jarl actually, the companions, especially circle members, literal daedric princes. You know what you get it) They are basically a blessing (or a curse) from a literal god. Everyone knows who they are, and they have saved countless of lives. Literally the harbinger of the companions. Many of them see them as, once again, an idol or hero. The world is on the DB's shoulders.

And what is he? A theif. And one that almost subjected you to death. He is a confident man- but, DB knows all these people that can provide more for them without risking them losing their title or hell, life. He sort of sees himself as a... stunt to the DB.

I do genuinely think the romantic chemistry between the DB and Brynjolf was on purpose, and that it makes sense. I feel like the shift in the relationship makes sense. Rewrite the Stars has turned into my fav Brynjolf song now, lol.

Also, he is a known womanizer and player. Maybe he wanted to play you. Its rumored that he slept with Tonilla 🤷‍♀️ So he could honest to god just be trying to get in DB's pants.

But ill chose the former. Something about him makes me think he genuinely loved the DB. Hes a sweet boy, and rather loyal once he actually commits. Maybe, because of his history, he doesnt know how to do relationships. Maybe he doesnt understand love. Maybe he doesnt know why he loves the DB, and like I said maybe he thinks he will only hinder the DB.

You're a hero and a world celeb, he's a theif whose real name probably isnt Brynjolf.

It still really does suck that we cant marry him. But at least now it makes a tad bit more sense? 🙏🏻

Forgive me for weird typing or wording. I wrote this after a long shift and I am very tired! I hope this made sense to you all. This could literally be me word bombing. I could literally think this is all accurate, and then be wrong. Thats possible. But hey, at least now you know my headcanons.

[cheeseandstrawberrytartlover]

Six Fanarts

Featured: a young Almalexia, a young Queen Barenziah, Delvin Mallory, Relmyna Verenim, Nerevar Indoril, Lucien Lachance

Took me 4 days! Tagging the people that have asked for certain characters below!

Deets for people who cannot zoom in as much

@orangevanillabubbles @shivering-isles-cryptid @average-crazy-fangirl @thalwhore @xcoffeepostx

[thief-dd]

Ok but drunk Mercer is so cute 🥰 Are those your headcanons that you had the screenshot of?

Yes I had plans to draw all of them properly!! But then...time got in the way...

But here's a little preview into how it would have been!! I didn't draw Vipir in this case cuz I would rather not visualise that prompt......

[nauteno]

Delvin's Japanese dubbing voice actor passed away last November. This is a sketch when i draw🕯️

[frosty-talks]

Astrid is Dead

Idea comes from @nerevar-quote-and-star, thank you so much for the help!

"Astrid is dead."

Delvin met the eyes of the new leader of the Brotherhood. The cistern, normally warm and inviting with the smell of mead and fresh food made by Vekel, now creeped deep into his blood. His bones. His very soul. His hands trembled at his side-why? He never had to worry about what to do with them before.

"Dead?" Delvin couldn't but to bark out a laugh. "That's rich. I know your sanctuary was found but Astrid would have never allowed herself to be caught."

The new leader's eyes narrowed. How he wanted to wipe that look off their face. "I'm afraid that it's the truth. Astrid didn't make it out and she passed on the mantle to me. We finished the contract in her, as well as our other fallen brothers and sisters, honor."

Delvin scowled and crossed his arms, not wanting to think about his hands anymore. "And you're here just to deliver the news?"

"No, I'm here because we need to furnish our new sanctuary. We got our reward and we left the old one after the razing, all that's needed is to make the new one a home."

Home.

A home.

Of course, the old sanctuary couldn't be used anymore. It was discovered. The Imperials knew about it. And they'd most likely keep an eye on it for future activities. But that sanctuary had been his home for a time. Back when he'd caught heat for the murder of a citizen, a robbery gone wrong. He hadn't left the damn place for months.

Astrid had made it a home for him when he was desperate.

"Try coming back tomorrow." They tried to argue, their mouth opening to fight the dismissal. "I said: come back tomorrow. I will get your supplies together, believe me. But I need time to figure it all out."

They stood there. Feet almost melded into the damp stone. But they turned and left. The door leading out of the Flagon crashed to a close with a sound that threatened to shake the ceiling loose.

Astrid was dead.

He needed a drink.

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

Vipir the Fleet: Why are you guys talking like that? And how come I never get the cool jobs to do?!

Delvin Mallory: Well you sometimes have difficulty comprehending the complexities of certain tasks.

Vipir: ...Huh?

Vex: You don't understand how to carry out some assignments.

Vipir: What...?

Brynjolf: You don't know how to do a lot of stuff, lad.

Vipir: Come again?

Thrynn: You're not smart!

Vipir: HEY-

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Delvin Mallory, when handing out a job: Ayo, while you're out and about, step on an extra crunchy leaf for me.

[doorianpavus]

Core members of the Thieves Guild

"Ain't no doubt about it. The Thieves Guild is back, and they've got Riften in their grip."

[wellthebardsdead]

Henwen: *steps out into the ragged flagon dressed in his new guild armour for the first time, long hair neatly braided back and draped over his shoulder* I think it fits- it’s a little tight around my thighs and butt?

Brynjolf: don’t worry, it’ll stretch out with use, you look great. *shakily sips his mead* gods above do you look gR- OW!!!

Delvin: *smacks him over the head* pervert. *looks at Henwen and offers him another pair of trousers* Come on lad we’ll go a size up for you.

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch.1:

No Risk, No Reward

Next: Ch.2 - All Eyes on Us Fic Masterpost

Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,781

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

AN: I have nothing to say for myself other than that Brynjolf is one of my favorite Skyrim characters, and this is an excuse for me to flesh him out both as an individual and in relation to the player. Has this probably been done a thousand times? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not. Thanks for reading! (and let me know if you want to be tagged in updates, I'll do so if you like!)

--- --- ---

Brynjolf had a headache.

He’d had a faint one building behind his eyes for most of the day, but after listening to Keerava complain- loudly- that the Guild was asking more than she could afford for protection and that if he knew what was good for him he’d jump of the pier…his head was well and truly pounding. 

“Want me to top that off for you, Bryn?” 

Brynjolf blinked, and looked up to see Vekel looking at him expectantly, a flagon in his hand. 

“Sorry lad, what was that?” 

Vekel chuckled, and filled Brynjolf’s tankard with ale. 

“You’ve been distracted lately, my friend. Better not let Mercer catch you staring off into space like that.” 

“Now there’s an earful I don’t need,” Brynjolf agreed, lifting his tankard in acknowledgement before taking a swig. 

“Well, go on then,” Vekel prodded. “Tell us what’s going on in that big brain of yours.” 

“It’s nothing lad, just a headache,” Brynjolf said, but Vekel shook his head.

“I’m not just talking about today, Bryn, you’ve been off ever since you pulled that job on Brand-Shei.” 

“Have I?” Brynolf asked, and Vekel nodded.

“You have. Which doesn’t track,” Dirge piped up, walking over to the bar. “Because you said that the job went off without a hitch.” 

“So if you’re not thinking about the job, what are you thinking about?” Vekel asked. 

A face came to Brynjolf’s mind unbidden, bright eyes and sharp features framed by dark hair, but he pushed the image away. 

“You know as well as I do that the Guild’s seen better days, lads,” he said, taking another sip. “Just trying to work out how to bring her back to her former glory.” 

“Aaaah, so that’s why you’ve been distracted these past few days,” Vekel said knowingly. “You think you’ve found another recruit, don’t you?” 

“So what if I have?” Brynjolf demanded, arching an eyebrow at the barkeep. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: what this outfit needs is some fresh blood.”

“Except the last three recruits you tried to bring on board washed out before they could make any serious coin,” Dirge pointed out, and Brynjolf frowned.

“At least I’m actually trying to solve the problem,” he said. “If we ever want to get back on our feet, the Thieves Guild needs to actually employ some master thieves.” 

“Aaaand, the last few kids you pulled into this mess were ‘master thief’ material?” Dirge asked, and Vekel snickered. 

“Give it up, Brynjolf,” he said. “Those days are over.” 

Brynjolf sighed.

“I’m telling you, this one is different…” he began, but Dirge scoffed.

“We’ve all heard that one before, Bryn! Quit kidding yourself.” 

Brynjolf opened his mouth to reply, but paused. Beneath his friends’ ribbing and the quiet clinking of cups on tables and forks on plates from the Flagon’s few other patrons, there was another sound. The sound of boots on stone, the steps slow and cautious as they approached. 

“It’s time to face the truth, old friend,” Vekel said. “You, Vex, Mercer…you’re all part of a dying breed. Things are changing!” 

Brynjolf turned, saw exactly who he’d hoped he would, and a smile spread across his face. 

“Dying breed, eh?” he repeated. “Well what do you call that then!” 

The woman was slight, an Imperial by the looks of her, and she had a bow drawn, one arrow knocked loosely on the string.

“Well well, color me impressed, lass,” Brynjolf said, nodding to her. “I wasn’t certain I’d ever see you again.”

The woman’s eyes flitted around, lingering on Dirge for a moment before eventually slinging her bow over her shoulder.

“Getting here was easy,” she said, stowing her arrow in its quiver. 

Brynjolf chuckled.

“Reliable and headstrong? You’re proving to be quite the prize. The name’s Brynjolf, lass.” 

“Ariene,” said the Imperial.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Brynjolf said. “So... now that I've whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?"

Ariene frowned, shifting her weight.

“Deadbeats?” she asked. “What’d they do?” 

“They owe our organization some serious coin, and they’ve decided not to pay,” Brynjolf explained. “I want you to explain to them the error of their ways.” 

Ariene nodded thoughtfully.

“Sounds good…who are they?”

“Keerava,” Brynjolf said, ticking the marks off on his fingers, “Bersi Honey-Hand, and Haelga. Do this right, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.”

“And…how do you want me to handle it?” Ariene asked carefully.

Brynjolf sighed, his mind drifting back to the insults that Keerava had thrown at him that morning.

“Honestly? The debt is secondary here. What’s more important is that you get the message across that we are to be ignored.” He frowned, and looked pointedly at the bow strapped to Ariene’s back. “A word of warning though…I don’t want any of them killed. Bad for business.”

To his surprise, Ariene’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and she nodded.

“Will I get a cut?” she asked, and Brynjolf laughed.

“Of course you’ll get a cut. We take care of our own.”

“Then consider it done.”

“Alright then lass, get going. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

The woman nodded and turned without another word, heading back into the ratways the way she came.

Brynjolf grinned, and turned back to Dirge and Vekel.

“Anything to say now, lads?”

“Sure, she made it down here,” Vekel said dismissively. “But that doesn’t make her a master thief. A hundred septims says she’ll turn out just like all the others.”

“I told you Vekel, this one is different,” Brynjolf insisted.

Still, as he sat back down at the bar, it was hard to ignore the facts. He’d been trying to breathe new life into the Guild, but Vekel and Dirge had a point. Previous recruits hadn’t stuck around long. Some didn’t keep up a high standard of work, others realized how poor the Guild’s standing really was and abandoned it. A few had even been caught and either killed or imprisoned. 

Brynjolf knew Mercer was running out of patience with his attempts, but he didn’t see any other options. They couldn’t rely solely on Maven forever, and the way Brynjolf saw it, their dwindling reputation and cash flow needed to be addressed, or the Guild, and everyone in it, would be history.

You’d better come through for me, lass, he thought, bringing his tankard to his lips. Because I’m putting my last bet on you.

--- --- ---

Despite his high hopes, part of Brynjolf was worried that the woman would simply take the money for herself and disappear after shaking down her three marks. After all, it’d taken her several days to reappear in the ratways after the job on Brand-Shei, and Brynjolf had been doing this for a long time. 

His gut told him that she would pull through, but having a contingency was just as important as having good instincts. He’d put the word out to his contacts within the city guard to alert him if an imperial woman fitting Ariene's description tried to skip town, and he had a few others keeping eyes on the docks and weak points in the city walls in case she tried to slip out that way. 

Mercer had given him the usual grief about wasting manpower, but Brynjolf knew that if the coin came through, he’d let the matter go. And as the day drew to a close and no runners came bursting into the Flagon to tell him that his recruit had killed one of the marks or vanished with his gold, the more sure he became that this had been a good call. 

“I still don’t know about this, Bryn,” Delvin grumbled. “Even if this new recruit of yours is as good as you say, that don’t mean that the curse ain’t gonna affect them, same as the rest of us.”  

Brynjolf rolled his eyes. 

“Mentioning the curse in every other conversation isn’t going to make more people believe you, old man. It’s just going to make them think you’re crazy.”

“You can call me what you like,” Delvin said, shrugging. “Don’t change the facts.” 

“Brynjolf,” Dirge called, and Brynjolf looked up to see Ariene walking towards them, a sack of gold in her hand. 

“Well well, look who’s back,” he said, shooting a smug look over his shoulder at Delvin, who just shook his head and took a sip of his ale. 

“So lass,” he said, getting to his feet. “Job’s done, and you even brought the gold.” He spotted movement behind her, and saw one of his runners slip into the Flagon. They flashed him a quick hand signal, and he smiled. “Best of all, you did it clean. I like that. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive.” 

Ariene nodded, and held out the coin purse. 

“Here’s what they owed us,” she said, and Brynjolf took it. 

“Well done, lass. And it would seem I owe you something in return.”

He turned and picked up a few potion bottles from the table behind him. 

“Here you go, I think you’ll find these quite useful.” 

Ariene took them, examined them for a moment, then nodded, slipping them into a satchel at her side. 

“What’s next, then?” she asked.

“Well,” Brynjolf said, hefting the bag of coin in his hand. “Judging from how well you handled those shopkeepers, I’d say you’ve done more than simply prove yourself.” 

He looked back at Delvin and raised an eyebrow. The man nodded, and Brynjolf smiled at Ariene. 

“We need people like you in our outfit.” 

Ariene looked around, and Brynjolf saw her eyes linger on the rickety tables, on the grime covering the tankards, and the empty seats covered in dust. She looked up at him, and after a moment of meeting his gaze, she nodded.

“If there’s more gold where that came from, then I’m in.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Brynjolf said, grinning. “Larceny’s in your blood…the telltale sign of a practiced thief. I think you’ll do more than just fit in around here.” 

Brynjolf turned to lead her to the cistern but she hesitated.

“Before we go, I have to ask…” she trailed off, and looked around the room again.

“What’s on your mind?” Brynjolf asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Word is your outfit isn’t doing…well.” One side of her mouth ticked up in a half smile, and she gestured vaguely around them. “True?”

Brynjolf chuckled. 

“You’re a sharp one, lass. Aye, we’ve run into a bit of a rough patch lately…but it’s nothing to be concerned about.” He let out a sigh, then flashed her a small smile. “Tell you what. You keep making us coin, and I’ll worry about everything else. Fair enough?” 

Ariene nodded slowly. 

“Fair enough.” 

“Now, if there are no more questions? How about you follow me, and I’ll show you what we’re all about.” 

Brynjolf led Ariene through the back room, sliding away the false panel in the storage cupboard and stepping through to the passageway beyond.

“So everyone in the tavern back there, they’re all members?” Ariene asked.

“Not everyone is,” Brynjolf explained. “Vekel owns the Ragged Flagon, and Dirge works for him. Tonilia, well, she’s got her own business. But they all work closely with us. We keep coin in each other's pockets and watch each other's backs.” 

“And you lead the Guild?” asked Ariene, and Brynjolf scoffed.

“Me? No, lass. I’m just a lieutenant. I keep things running as smooth as I can, but I’m no Guildmaster. Mercer is the one who makes the decisions around here. And speaking of…”

He led her into the cistern, where Mercer was waiting for them on the dais in the center of the room.

"Mercer?” he called. “This is the one I was talking about...our new recruit."

Mercer sighed and folded his arms.

"This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf," he said. 

He turned to Ariene, and looked her up and down slowly. A frown spread across his face, and he folded his arms.

"Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” he said, addressing her. “If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions... you do what we say, when we say.”

Ariene raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, mirroring Mercer’s pose.

“Do I make myself clear?" Mercer demanded, and Ariene glanced over at Brynjolf. 

“Rules?” she asked, looking back to Mercer. “We’re thieves. What’s the point of rules?

Mercer took a slow step forward, stopping only when he was mere inches away from her face, and Brynjolf grimaced. 

“I'll let that comment go because you're new here,” Mercer growled. “Ask things out of turn again, and we have a problem. Now, are. We. Clear?" 

Ariene, to her credit, didn’t react beyond a slight tensing of her shoulders, and she nodded once. 

“Crystal,” she said evenly.

“Good,” Mercer said, stepping back. “Then I think it's time we put your expertise to the test."  

“Wait a moment,” Brynjolf said, frowning. There was only one job going on at the moment that Mercer was concerning himself with…a job that Brynjolf had not intended for a fresh recruit to try and take on all alone. “You’re not talking about Goldenglow, are you?” he asked, and Mercer nodded. “Even our little Vex couldn’t get in!”

Mercer just raised an eyebrow. 

“You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it.” 

“Goldenglow?” Ariene repeated, and Mercer turned back to her. 

“Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients,” he explained. “However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details." 

He turned, clearly signaling that the conversation was over, and Brynjolf folded his arms. 

“Mercer. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hmm?” he looked back at them, and Brynjolf looked pointedly at Ariene. “Oh, yes. Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, then you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild.”

He turned and strode away, and Brynjolf blew out a breath before smiling at Ariene with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. 

“Well he’s cheerful,” Ariene said quietly, a grin playing at the edge of her mouth, and Brynjolf tilted his head.

“How much of that ignorance was on purpose?” he asked, and she shrugged. 

“I wanted to see how he’d respond to confrontation. Evidently, not well.” 

“Well, I could have told you that,” Brynjolf said with a quiet laugh. “But never mind that now. You’re in. Welcome to the family, lass. I'm expecting you to make us a lot of coin, so don't disappoint me."

Ariene nodded. 

“So how do I get my cut of the spoils?” she asked. 

“Simple,” Brynjolf replied. “Do as you're told and keep your blade clean. We can't turn a profit by killing.”

“Fine by me.” 

“You should talk with Delvin Mallory and Vex. They know their way around this place and they'll be able to kick some extra jobs your way. Oh, and talk to Tonilia in the Flagon... she'll set you up with your new armor.” 

“Speaking of the Flagon, I could use a drink,” Ariene said. “Let me buy you one too…as an apology for upsetting Mercer.”

Brynjolf shook his head. 

“I told you lass, you just worry about making us coin. I’ll worry about everything else, and that includes Mercer, alright?”

“Well then...consider it a thank you,” she suggested. 

“A thank you?” he repeated, and she actually looked a tad sheepish.

“I can tell you were taking a chance, bringing me in to all of this,” she said, her voice quiet. “It was a risk; a risk that you didn’t have to take. And I…appreciate that.” 

Brynjolf smiled.

“Well, I suppose I have time for a quick drink. A drink, and a toast to the newest member of the Guild.”  

Ariene brightened, and turned to head out of the cistern and back into the Flagon. Brynjolf went to follow, but glanced back over his shoulder. Mercer stood at his desk, leaning over a set of plans with a frown on his face. 

“Tell you what lass,” Brynjolf said slowly. “You go on ahead, introduce yourself to the others. I’ll join you in a moment, and we can discuss business.” 

Ariene nodded, and Brynjolf watched her go, waiting until the door to the Flagon closed behind her before turning and striding across the room.

“Mercer!” he said, and Mercer glared up at him. “We need to talk.”

--- --- ---

Next: Ch.2