#Delvin Mallory

[friend-of-giants]

☆ Tes Crushes ☆

Tagged by @lucien-lachance ages ago to do this, but I wasn't in the right headspace. Buuuut I am now, so let's get this rolling!

I don't know who to tag, you've all probably done it already lol but @theoneandonlysemla @vervayyn @sheirukitriesfandom @pocket-vvardvark @umbracirrus @labskeever @heavy-metal-dick

1. TELDRYN SERO - to the surprise of absolutely nobody, he is my number one. I mean seriously, have yall heard him speak? Have you forcibly removed his helmet to see his face? Have you dragged his ass around the entirety of Skyrim and listened to him comment on every. damn. thing??? The way he growls "you need to get to sleep" directly into your ear during the night because he cares about your wellbeing????? Sorry not sorry, I'm an absolute whore for this mer and I won't stop lmao. Number one!

2. FARKAS - He was my very first character crush in this game, and the first I married. Big hairy man with a greatsword? Those blue eyes and long dark hair? Oh hell yeah. Sadly, when I married him, he glitched out and got stuck in a T pose and floated backward for the rest of my playthru. RIP farky

3. ONDOLEMAR - I have @skyrim-forever to thank for rekindling my interest in this elf, but before the Dragonborn DLC was released, he was my "why the HELL can i not marry this guy???" character. I was crushed that he wasn't a romance candidate and that he also can't be saved. We love a man who thinks highly of himself.

4. ULFBERTH WAR-BEAR - He looks like my irl husband, and I was disappointed he's already married. He's so friendly when you go into his shop!

5. DELVIN MALLORY - again WHY can we not marry him???? It's his voice, I swear.

6. AELA - She's just hot, alright? 😅

[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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[lordoftablecloths]

thieves guild my beloved

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Smuggler Underboss

Art for The Elder Scrolls: Legends

*Artist Unknown* If anyone knows the artist comment below

[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—

[unapologetically-horrible]

It may not be much. But it’s home.

[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.

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch. 16

A Toast to the Fallen

Prev: Ch.15 The Final Spark|| Next: Ch.17 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 forced to confront the one truth he was unwilling to face.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, grief.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,681

Check the relogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — — 

Brynjolf stared down at the steam curling up from the surface of his mug. The woman who placed it in front of him spoke rapidly as she bustled around the small cabin in a futile attempt to make her guests at home. 

“There we are, snowberry tea, just what you need on a cold day like this one, that’s what my own mother would always make for us when we were young and spent too long out in the snow. I am awfully sorry about that misunderstanding this morning, it’s just that I was paid to keep things under wraps, and I had absolutely no way of knowing that you weren’t one of the people I was meant to be keeping secrets from, you understand. Would you like anything to eat? I’m sure you’re hungry after such a long time spent on the road, and in this dreadful wind too–”

She continued her tirade, but her words washed over Brynjolf in a distant haze. His mind only had room for one thought, the thought that had been repeating itself over and over again in his mind since he and Mercer had rode out from the Nightgate Inn:

Ariene was dead. 

Somehow, he hadn’t quite thought that it was possible. He had worried about it, imagined it, had tried to plan for what would come next if it were true, but somewhere deep inside him, he hadn’t truly believed it could happen. How could someone who had survived Goldenglow, the Legion’s headsman, and not one but two dragon attacks fall to a single opponent in an abandoned crypt? It didn’t seem right. 

And yet, she was dead. 

Brynjolf tightened his grip on his mug of tea, barely registering its heat. 

“–stew should be ready before too long, it’s got some warming herbs in it that I grow in my garden out back–”

“That will be all for now, Aeri,” Mercer said, his voice cutting off the mill owner’s nervous chatter. “My companion and I are in need of some privacy.” 

“Of course, of course, so sorry, I’ll leave you to it, I’m sure you have lots to catch up on, I’ll just be tending to the mill if you need me,” Aeri said, bowing quickly before hurrying out of the cabin. 

“Shadows grant me patience,” Mercer muttered, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Brynjolf slowly looked up and met Mercer’s eyes, speaking for the first time since Nightgate.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Brynjolf…” Mercer said, his face contorting into a grimace. “Are you sure you want to–”

“Tell me. What happened,” Brynjolf repeated, and Mercer nodded slowly.

“I had hoped to corner Karliah while she was inside the crypt, but I underestimated her preparedness. She managed to sneak past the draugr and lay traps for us in her wake that slowed us down and let her know that we were coming. Ariene suggested that we turn back, but I just couldn’t let Karliah get away again, not after everything she’d done, so I insisted we push on. I…I regret that now,” Mercer said with a shake of his head.

Brynjolf’s stomach twisted. How many times in all the years they’d known each other had he heard Mercer actually admit that he’d been at fault? Not many more than the number of times that he’d heard the Guildmaster apologize. In any other circumstance he’d feel vindicated, but if this was what it took to soften Mercer’s exterior, then Brynjolf would rather endure a thousand of his screaming matches. 

“I was certain that if I could just get close enough to her, then we’d have the upper hand,” Mercer continued. “Karliah is decent with a blade, but she never was able to beat me back when we were sparring partners. And I foolishly assumed that having an archer of my own with me would level the playing field.” 

Mercer balled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white with the strain. 

“I was wrong. Karliah played me like a damn lute. We entered into the final chamber of the sanctum and she was ready for us. Before we even saw her an arrow came flying out from the shadows. I assume that the shot was intended for me, but Ariene shoved me out of the way at the last second and took it in the shoulder. The wound shouldn’t have been fatal, but she went limp instantly and fell to the ground. That’s when I remembered what kept me from going after Karliah all those years ago. Poison.” 

Mercer practically spat out the word, and Brynjolf’s blood ran cold. Mercer was still speaking, saying something about failing to revive her with healing potions, but Brynolf wasn’t listening anymore. 

He couldn’t help but picture the scene: Ariene crying out in warning as she pushed Mercer aside. The arrow piercing her body and sending her stumbling. Dark hair fanning out around her head as she landed, blue eyes wide open and glassy as the poison flooded her veins and stopped her heart. 

“What about Karliah?” he heard himself ask, though his own voice sounded far away to his ears. 

“She got away,” Mercer said through gritted teeth. “She must have only had enough poison for one arrow; once she missed me she didn’t stick around to trade blows. By the time I accepted that Ariene couldn’t be saved, Karliah had vanished without a trace. I worried that she would try to ambush me on the road back to the Guild, so I’ve been hiding out here until I felt it was safe enough to move again.” 

So in the end, it had all been for nothing. 

“I truly am sorry, Brynjolf,” said Mercer quietly. “For what it’s worth, you were right about Ariene. She demonstrated a tremendous amount of skill. I should have listened when she told me to turn back.” 

Brynjolf’s eyes fell back to the cup of tea. He was distantly aware that an apology from Mercer should have felt significant. It was no small thing for the Guildmaster to accept responsibility for his failure. However, Brynjolf found that the gesture did little to offset the grief that was nestling deep into his chest. How could he hold Mercer responsible when, at the end of the day, he was the one who had let this happen? 

He had let Ariene and Mercer go out alone. His gut had told him that it was a mistake, that they needed to make a better plan, that Mercer wasn’t fit to lead the job, but he’d let them go anyway. Any anger he felt towards Mercer paled in comparison with his own guilt. 

He had been the one to promise Ariene that he wouldn’t let Mercer put her in danger again. He had been the one to let her go on a mission that was doomed from the start. He was the one who had failed her. 

That idea refused to let him go as he and Mercer packed up their supplies and headed out from the mill. They crossed the Yorgrim, then followed the western road down along the White River. The landscape passed by them in a blur of rocks and hills and trees that Brynjolf barely took note of. He was too focused on the thought that repeated itself over and over in his mind as they rode:

It’s my fault she’s gone. 

They reached Darkwater Crossing, and Mercer finally broke the silence that had hung between them all journey by suggesting they make camp for the night. He was still worried about Karliah laying a trap for him, so they left the road and headed deeper into the trees to make their meager campsite. Brynjolf volunteered to take first watch, and Mercer didn't argue, disappearing into the tent without another word.

Sitting on an overturned log, Brynjolf stared into the flickering heart of their campfire. He couldn’t help but think back to the last conversation that he and Ariene had shared, before she'd left for this pointless job.

"The Guild needs you in one piece," he had said, and Ariene had looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of hers and said "The Guild needs me?"

He'd heard the unspoken meaning behind her question loud and clear: what about you? He had wanted to take her face in his hands and answer her, to say the words that terrified him but that he knew were true:

I do need you, lass. I need you here, I need you safe. I think I might even love you, though I don't quite know what to do with that. All I know is that I don’t want you to leave.

He should have told her how he felt when he had the chance. He should have kissed her when he had the chance. 

But he had been a coward, and now he’d never get that chance again.

— — — 

Stepping into the Ragged Flagon after a job usually brought Brynjolf a sense of triumph. The only feeling better than pulling off a perfect heist was returning to the Guild with plenty of gold to spend and stories to share. Even if a job had gone badly, sinking into one of the tavern’s old chairs and commiserating with his Guildmates over a drink held its own kind of catharsis. 

But this time, as Brynjolf entered the familiar room he felt neither relief nor victory. He looked around, taking in the flicker of torchlight on the wall, the gentle lap of the water against the stone sides of the old cistern, and the quiet murmur of customers sitting at tables or trading with merchants and just felt…empty.  

The sound of the door shutting behind him signaled Mercer’s presence, and the Guildmaster let out a sigh as he stepped up next to Brynjolf. 

“Well, we made it in one piece,” he said grimly. “Time to figure out our next move.” 

Before Brynjolf could think of an answer, Dirge’s voice rang out from the bar.

“It’s Brynjolf! And Mercer’s with him!”

The Flagon burst to life in an instant. The sound of wooden chair legs scraping against the floor echoed through the room as Guildmembers got to their feet. Cries of welcome filled the air and people raised hands and tankards towards them in greeting as Mercer and Brynjolf made their way into the Flagon proper. To an outsider, it would have sounded like a decorated soldier was returning from battle to a hero’s welcome in their home village.

It made Brynjolf feel sick. 

“There he is,” Delvin’s voice cut through the chatter and the old thief stepped forward, reaching out and clasping Brynjolf’s hand and nodding to Mercer. “I knew you’d make it back to us; the both of you are too stubborn to die.” 

Brynjolf fought to return Delvin’s smile, but found that he didn’t have the energy in him to put up that facade. 

“Bryn?” Vex’s face was twisted in a frown, and her eyes narrowed as she scanned the room. “Where’s Ariene?” 

A sudden stillness fell over the room at the mention of the lass’s name, as though the rest of the Guild had only just realized that she wasn’t with them.

“She…” Brynjolf began, but it was as though the words were stuck in the back of his throat. He couldn’t say them, couldn’t bear to utter them aloud because if he did then that made them true, it made the nightmare that he’d found himself in real. 

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked to see Mercer standing beside him, his expression grim. He tilted his head in a silent question, and after a moment Brynjolf slumped and gave a quick nod in response. 

“She didn’t make it,” the Guildmaster said.

The room reacted with a flurry of gasps and cries of dismay, and for a moment Brynjolf was adrift in it, floundering like a child who’d fallen into the canal. But the hand on his shoulder squeezed, a short, sharp burst of pressure, and Brynjolf sucked in a breath, letting that sensation ground him. He locked eyes with Mercer and gave another nod, firmer this time, and Mercer nodded back. 

“Vekel, put his drinks tonight on my tab,” he said, and then his hand fell from Brynjolf’s shoulder and he was gone, ducking past the crowd and slipping through the back door into the Cistern.  

“Brynjolf…” Delvin began. “Gods, I’m sorry…I don’t know what to say.”

Vex didn’t say anything, just silently pulled a chair out from the table for Brynjolf to sit in. Vekel approached a moment later with a tray full of drinks, setting one before Brynjolf before passing the others out to those who were gathered around. 

“You know,” Vekel said, sitting down with a cup of his own once everyone was served, “When you first told me about this new potential recruit you’d found, I was prepared to bet against her. With the way things had been going around here, I fully expected her to wash out of the Guild within three weeks.” 

He raised his tankard up, addressing the room.

“But Divines as my witness, she proved me wrong! The Guild never saw a finer recruit. To Ariene!”  

“To Ariene!” the gathered Guildmembers responded, taking swigs of their own drinks. 

“Aye, she was a rare one,” Delvin said. “She had a sharp blade and a sharper wit. I can count on one hand the number of folks I’ve known throughout the years that were as well suited to this line of work as she was.” 

He lifted his cup of wine, and again the group toasted to her memory. Others chimed in with stories of their own; Niruin praised her archery skills, Vipir her stealth, Cynric her good humor. Even Tonilia remarked that she’d had an excellent eye for what items a potential client would find desirable. 

Slowly, as each Guildmember spoke, something deep within Brynjolf’s chest began to loosen. Sitting here in the Flagon surrounded by his friends as they took turns memorializing their fallen comrade was slowly chasing away the numbness that had threatened to overtake him. 

“You know I hate to admit it,” Vex began, “But she managed to pull things off that even I wasn’t capable of. The Guild would be worse off without her.” She raised her bottle of mead. “She’ll be missed.”

“Hear hear!” someone called, but as the room took another drink, Brynjolf found his breath was caught in his throat. 

The warmth he had begun to feel was all at once overwhelming; it was like someone had tried to fill the void inside him by pouring molten iron down his throat. The emptiness was gone, but the heat that had taken its place now threatened to burn him from the inside out. The room was suddenly too loud, too crowded, too much, and he needed to get away, he needed to breathe. 

Brynjolf stood abruptly, and of course all eyes in the room went to him. He looked around at his friends’ faces, saw the grief and sympathy written in their expressions, and he steeled himself. He gripped his tankard’s handle so tightly his knuckles went white, then he raised the drink high. 

“Aye, to Ariene!” he said, loud and clear. “Truly, she was the best of us!” 

He drained his tankard in a single gulp, then as the rest of the Guild echoed his toast, he turned and walked out of the Flagon without another word. He heard someone from the crowd start to call his name, but Vex interrupted them by loudly ordering another round, and Brynjolf disappeared down the tunnel that led to his quarters. 

He entered his room, leaning against the door as he shut it and took a shuddering breath. In an instant, his last remaining bit of strength left him and he sank to the floor, his empty tankard falling from his fingers. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he raised a hand to cover his face as the grief came pouring out. 

Finally alone, Brynjolf let himself cry.

— — —

[brainsplat]

I wrote this wee little thing about what I imagine it’s like for the LDB to come back from Snow Veil Sanctum (before getting the journal translated) from the perspective of Delvin. Nothing romantic but written with LDB/Brynjolf in mind. It’s too short for me to want to put it on ao3 so I’m putting it here. Gender neutral LDB.

The look in the newest recruit’s eye is… well, it’s scary. Crazed. Livid. Their eyes are wide open and flickering back and forth, pupils blown so wide you’d think they were high. Their whole body is tense like a compressed spring, ready to lunge.

Dirge wisely lets them pass into the Flagon proper. Finally, Delvin sees the tear in the chest of they’re armor, all the way through and past the recruit’s undershirt. It’s stained dark with blood, all down their front. Like they were run through. Which doesn’t quite make sense, because Mercer said they’d died from an arrow, and that slash is far too big to be from an arrow.

The thief’s eyes land on Delvin, and he fights the urge to squirm under their unwavering gaze. They blink for the first time since they came in, a long slow blink. And then they approach the table where Delvin was previously enjoying his supper.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Delv,” they say, voice quiet but with a hard edge to it. Whatever happened, the fella is pissed.

“Yeah, s’pose I have,” he replies, tone even. He’s doing his best at seeming neutral and unthreatening.

Something awful has happened, clearly, that’s sent the thief flying into a crazed rage, and the longer Delvin can avoid being on the receiving end, the better.

They just nod, and that too they do for a long time, too long. They sit at the table, across from Delvin and still they never look away, doesn’t blink.

“Where’s Mercer?”

And that question doesn’t surprise him, not as much as it should, but the authority in their voice does.

“I dunno,” Delvin shrugs, reaching towards the food on his plate.

“Bullshit!” The recruit screams, the sound echoing around the cistern-turned-bar. At the same time, they draw a knife, bringing it down on Delvin’s plate, spearing the slab of meat, then further, into the plate, and further still, pinning all of it to the table beneath.

The blood rushes out of Delvin’s face.

“Easy now, easy… I’m tellin’ the truth, haven’t got a clue where’s he at. Came in a day or so ago and told us all that Karliah killed you and split, then he took off again. Didn’t say a word about it so we figured he was going after her again.”

At that, the tension seeps out of them, and the crazed look fades into something else. Sadder.

“What about Bryn?” Their voice is quiet and hollow.

Delvin winces. “Took off as soon as Mercer said you were… gone. Said he needed to bring you home.”

The man mutters a curse under his breath, his hand coming up to shield his eyes as he slumps over in his seat. Something like sorrow radiates from them.

“And you all let him go? By himself?”

Delvin shifts, uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “We tried to talk him out of it. He wouldn’t listen.”

He expects the up-in-coming thief to ask more questions, or maybe get angry. But they don’t do any of that, they just stand and stalk back the way they came. Off to find Bryn or who knows what. Delvin lets out a deep sigh at the sound of the door slamming, everyone else returning to their business now that the drama is over.

For now at least. Delvin knows that whatever happened in that ruin is not done yet.

[anotherclassicpretence]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Vex (Elder Scrolls), Mercer Frey, Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls), Delvin Mallory Additional Tags: One Shot, Thieves Guild, Pre-Skyrim Main Quest, Complete Summary:

Mercer Frey has just heard that their most powerful client is making her own arrangements with a certain Quill...

[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’

[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

[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."

[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......

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Delvin Mallory Browser History

> Do workplace sexual harassment laws apply to illegal organizations

[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.