#brynjolf x dragonborn imagine

[hiddenbeks]

hmm. isabeau teaching brynjolf ballroom dances

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch. 13

Lacking in Virtue

Prev: Ch.12 A Ghost from the Past || Next: Ch.14 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: With Mercer and Ariene gone, Brynjolf does his best to keep the Guild in one piece...but he can't stop his mind from dwelling on potential worst case scenarios.

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

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,414

Check the relogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

Patience was a skill essential to every thief. While most young footpads imagined thieving to be an exciting profession full of daring deeds and narrow escapes, the reality was that there was also a lot of waiting involved. Waiting for a mark to be alone before you pounced, waiting for a house to be empty before creeping in, waiting for a distraction to begin before you slipped past a guard…if you weren’t patient, you didn’t last long in this business. 

Brynjolf had been doing this nearly his entire life, and never before had he found himself so quickly out of patience. He couldn’t help lying in bed and staring at the ceiling the first night Ariene and Mercer were gone, unable to let himself rest. It would take days for them to even reach Snow Veil Sanctum, and yet he couldn’t help but worry about what might happen when they actually arrived at the ruin.

His mind drifted back to when he’d been a young boy– maybe nine or ten years old– and staking out the city’s local bakery. He’d watched and waited for hours for just the right moment to present itself before sneaking in and nabbing a sweet roll from the counter. The anticipation had felt like torture to him at the time, but he’d dealt with the feeling by imagining the sweetness of the prize at the end. 

Those experiences had unexpectedly served as preparation for his eventual career. Whether he was the one out on a heist or whether he was waiting on someone else to report back to him, he just had to hold onto the same mindset he’d had as a boy stealing sweets: no matter how long a job took, the payout would make all the waiting worthwhile. 

And what if that payout isn’t worth it?

Karliah was dangerous, so much so that she had already defeated the Guild’s very best over twenty years ago. As satisfying as revenge would be, Brynjolf couldn’t stop the gnawing suspicion that it wouldn’t be worth the risk that Mercer was taking, not just with his own life, but with Ariene’s life.

What if Karliah beats her? 

No, he couldn’t afford to think like that, not when there was nothing he could do about it now. He did his best to distract himself, and with Mercer away there was at least plenty of work to take up his attention. He threw himself full force into keeping the Guild running at peak efficiency, determined to make up for the time they had lost avoiding the guards. 

He had Cynric head to Markarth to case a few houses and get a feel for the city, sent Thrynn and Sapphire to check on Mallus and the new meadery in Whiterun, and told the rest of the footpads that they could go back to mingling amongst the public, listening for gossip and picking pockets. 

The guards that Brynjolf had on payroll also finally started taking their orders again, and he took advantage of that opportunity to arrange for some of Tonilia’s contraband to be smuggled out of the city. The tension that the Guild had been carrying for weeks started to evaporate as everyone got to work, and for the first time in a long time, the Guild felt almost normal. 

Brynjolf just wished he could enjoy it. 

Unfortunately, no matter how much he pushed himself to focus on the day to day Guild business, his nights remained restless as dozens of worst-case scenarios ran through his mind. After a few days without much sleep, he resorted to chewing on chokeweed stems during the day to stay alert– something he normally only used on overnight heists. 

He tried to tell himself that his anxiety had nothing to do with Ariene, and that he’d be just as worried no matter who ended up going with Mercer. After all, at the end of the day they were all thieves, not assassins. Astrid or one of her “family members” would be far better suited to taking down someone as dangerous as Karliah, but the Guild had that pesky agreement with the Brotherhood about taking out its own members. 

Brynjolf probably could have convinced Astrid that Karliah was an ex-member and thus exempt from that rule, but Mercer doubtless wanted to run the Dunmer through himself, if only for the satisfaction. 

So why does he need her to go with him? 

“Hey!” 

Vex’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he shook himself. He looked up to see his fellow lieutenant standing at his desk, hands on her hips. Her face was twisted in an annoyed expression, which with Vex especially was never a good sign. 

“Are you even listening to me?” she demanded, and Brynjolf flashed her what he hoped was a confident smile. 

“Sorry lass, I guess I was drifting for a moment there. What were you saying?”

Vex frowned, clearly unimpressed by his display. 

“Alright, that’s it,” she said. 

She grabbed Brynjolf by the arm, and before he could protest she yanked him up from his chair and pulled him away from his pile of papers. 

“Where are we–”

“Shut it,” Vex commanded, and Brynjolf complied. 

He’d learned a long time ago that arguing with Vex was one of the most futile things you could do; once she had her mind set on something, there was no changing it. 

Vex had been in the Guild nearly as long as he had, joining as a scrappy young thing of fifteen only a few years after Brynjolf’s own recruitment. She’d been with the Guild for barely a month when Gallus had been murdered and the Guild thrown into disarray, but she’d taken it in perfect stride. While many other members fled the organization, she’d risen tall within it, and to this day was one of the Guild’s best and brightest, not to mention most dangerous.

Which was why Brynjolf didn’t bother to struggle as she dragged him through the cistern and into the training room. 

“Out!” she snapped at Rune, who was squatting next to one of the practice chests, lockpicks in hand. 

Her shout made him jump, and he swore as the sudden motion broke his pick in two. He looked up and opened his mouth, presumably to complain, but he thought better of it when he saw Vex’s face and quickly ducked out of the room.

Vex spun on Brynjolf the second they were alone, pulling out a twin pair of wickedly sharp elven daggers. 

“Alright,” she said, stepping into a combat stance. “Come on, then.”

“What are you doing?” Brynjolf asked, and she snorted. 

“I’d have thought that was obvious. I’m sparring with you. Weapons out, now.” 

“I– I’m down a blade at the moment,” he said.

Vex raised an eyebrow at him, then she sheathed one of her daggers and adjusted her stance.

“Not a problem. Let’s go.”

“Vex, I don’t have time to—”

She didn’t bother letting him finish; she just darted towards him, swinging her blade in a wide arc.

Brynjolf reacted on instinct, dodging to the side and drawing his weapon to block Vex’s next attack. For a moment, he fell into the familiar rhythm of combat: dodge, strike, duck, slash. It’d been a little while since he’d fought with one blade, and it was good to refamiliarize himself with the technique.

After trading a few blows though, his fatigue began to show in his movements, and Vex began to prod at him. 

“You’re a bit rusty. Haven’t seen you practice in a few days.” 

“Didn’t realize you cared one way or the other,” Brynjolf said as he parried one of her attacks. 

“Why is that, exactly?” she asked, ignoring his deflection. 

“I don’t know,” he grunted. “I’ve been busy. I don’t have both daggers right now. I don’t need to. What’s it to you, lass?”

Brynjolf aimed high with his next strike, and Vex ducked beneath him, kicking at his legs as she did so. He stumbled back, and barely raised his blade in time to block her incoming blow.

“You’ve been off ever since Mercer went out on his little revenge mission,” Vex said, and Brynjolf’s expression hardened. 

“I’ve been left with a lot of responsibility in the meantime,” he said, pushing her blade away and regaining his footing. 

The two circled one another, and Vex gave him an unimpressed look. 

“Mercer goes off on his own all the time; this shouldn’t be different.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but things at the Guild have been stressful lately,” Brynjolf said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I have.” 

Vex attacked again, and for a moment it was all Brynjolf could do to keep up with her as she spun, her elven blade glinting in the torchlight. 

“The thing is,” Vex said, panting only slightly as they continued to spar, “when you’re stressed, you usually come here. Blow off steam. Which you haven’t been doing.”

“Like I said,” Brynjolf said, stepping back for a moment to catch his breath. “I’m down a dagger at the moment.”

“Not stopping you now, is it?”

“Only because you forced me,” Brynjolf said, and Vex chuckled wryly.

“Funny, you being short a blade,” she said. She nodded towards the dwarven dagger in Brynjolf’s hand. “Seeing as Gallus gave you those. Never seen you part ways with one willingly.” 

“First time for everything,” Brynjolf pointed out. 

“Is there a first time for acting like an imbecile?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You heard me.” 

“What do you want, lass?”

“I want you at the top of your game,” Vex said. “And right now you aren’t, because you’ve got all your thoughts bottled up more tightly than a batch of mead.” 

“And kicking my ass is supposed to help how, exactly?”

A smirk flashed across her face, but her expression turned pensive as she looked at him. She lowered her dagger, but she didn’t let her stance drop, so Brynjolf kept his own weapon raised, just in case. 

“Look, I know that you like to put on a front for the rest of the Guild,” she said. “Give the footpads a strong leader to look to and all that. But your mask is starting to crack, and I’d bet my last septim it’s because you’re not dealing with what’s bothering you. So either talk to me or fight me, but don’t act like everything is fine. I know you better than that.” 

Brynjolf stared at her for a moment, then he laughed wryly. 

“Anyone who says that you’re no good with people is a damn fool,” he said. 

“I can read people just fine. Winning them over, that’s your job.” Vex slid her dagger into its sheath and folded her arms, looking at him expectantly. “Go on, then. Spill it.” 

Brynjolf sighed, sheathing his own blade as well.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say, lass.”

“Whatever you need to. Whatever you don’t want to show through to the rest of the Guild. It’s about your little protege, right?” 

Brynjolf looked away, which was all the answer Vex needed. 

“Look,” she said. “I think it’s bullshit too. Mercer’s too far up his own ass about Karliah to realize he’s not thinking straight. He should’ve at least taken one of us with him.” 

“I just…why her?” Brynjolf found himself saying. “He can barely stand her. What is he hoping to accomplish, exactly?” 

“I mean, she did pull off the Goldenglow job,” Vex pointed out. “And took out all those Summerset Shades, or Shadows, or whatever they were calling themselves.” 

“Maybe so, but he’s never actually seen her fight. If I needed someone to watch my back while hunting down a murderer, I’d go with someone who I knew for sure I could count on.”

“Well, neither of us are archers. Could be he wants to level the playing field with Karliah.” 

“So take Niruin!” Brynjolf exclaimed. “Seriously Vex, I don’t know if you ever heard us fight about it, but I honestly think he hates Ariene. I’m half convinced he took her just to spite me. I should have–” 

He stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath in through his nose. 

“So you’re not just worried,” Vex said, nodding in understanding. “You feel guilty.”

“I…I told her she wouldn’t have to be a killer for us,” Brynjolf said quietly. “I swore that I wouldn’t let Mercer put her in danger for no reason. And now…I don’t know. I should have tried harder to change his mind, should have insisted on going with them, should have done something.” 

“You’re not responsible for Mercer’s decisions, you know,” Vex said. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I know you try and shield the rest of us from his bad moods as much as you can. Especially the new recruits.”

“You make him sound like a belligerent father,” Brynjolf scoffed, and Vex shrugged.

“There are worse descriptions. My point is, I know how hard you work to keep his temper under control. But he’s a grown ass man, and babysitting his emotions isn’t your job.”

“Keeping this place afloat is my job,” Brynjolf said, his voice grim, and Vex nodded.

“Exactly. So stop worrying about what you can’t change and focus on that.”

Brynjolf smiled wanly.

“Would you be able to do the same if it was a girl that you were sweet on, lass?”

Vex didn’t answer, and Brynjolf nodded. 

“That’s what I thought.”

“Listen, Bryn,” Vex said, “I’m not telling you to stop feeling whatever it is you’re feeling. I’m just asking you to stop ignoring it. If nothing else, go see Ingun about a sleeping tonic or something. You can’t run on nothing but ale and chokeweed until Ariene gets back.” 

“Am I that obvious?” Brynjolf asked, wincing. 

“Maybe not to everyone,” Vex admitted. “But to me, and probably Vekel and Delvin? Yes.” 

“Fine, fine,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose a tonic couldn’t hurt, at least.”

Vex nodded, then drew her dagger again, shifting back into a combat stance. 

“Good. Now, are we gonna finish this, or what?” 

Brynjolf grinned, and drew his own weapon.

“Just don’t cry when I beat you, lass.” 

Vex laughed, and Brynjolf took a deep breath in, forcing his worry out of his mind. He exhaled and looked Vex in the eyes, then swung. Her blade rushed up to meet his, and as the room echoed with the clash of metal, he told himself that everything would turn out fine. 

He just needed to have patience. 

— — —

I am now obsessed with the Brynjolf & Vex sibling dynamic that made itself known to me in writing this chapter. Also, Lesbian Vex rights! 👏

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 27 - Twilight Sepulcher

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild’s reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1, 196

A/N: Happy first night of Hanukkah if anyone else celebrates it :) I wanted to get through the Twilight Sepulcher in one chapter, but it ended up being a "two-part" so we'll see the return of the key next chapter. Hope you enjoy this one!

The weight of the key grew with each step in their journey to the Twilight Sepulcher. Brynjolf had offered to carry it for Adi, but the Dragonborn refused. She had it in her head that if anyone else were to take hold of the artifact, it wouldn’t get back to Nocturnal. She didn’t expect how much of a burden it would be. 

Day and night, it would whisper to her, entice her into using it. The key’s magic would invade her dreams, giving her images of the ideal life. All the riches she could ever imagine, all the power, and the ability to expose Maven Black-Briar without even trying.

It would be wrong to assume she wasn’t tempted. It knew how to find her deepest desire and show how it could make it happen. All the power she could have… she could be more powerful than- 

“Lass, we’re here,” Brynjolf halted Shadowmere. 

“Hm?” Adi snapped out of her thoughts, looking at her surroundings. Brynjolf had taken the reins more than halfway through their journey after noticing Adi’s lack of focus. The key was messing with her mind, and he wanted her to be as safe as possible as they travelled to the Sepulcher. 

Now that they were there, Brynjolf took the key from Adi’s possession and let her dismiss Shadowmere with the weight off her shoulders. “I’ll keep it with me for the rest of the journey, lass. We need you to have a clear mind.” 

Adi nodded and faced Karliah, who had tailed them. “I don't understand why you won't come with us.” 

“I've been a Nightingale for a very long time.” She said. “I sold my allegiance to Nocturnal in exchange for many profitable years of thieving. Falling in love with Gallus was wrong. It was a distraction that allowed the Sepulcher to be desecrated, and it likely cost him his life. Until the Key is returned, I will never set foot inside that place again.”

“Tell us about the conduit inside the Sepulcher.” Brynjolf requested. 

“The conduit to Nocturnal's realm, the realm of Evergloam, has been in Skyrim... well, longer than recorded history,” Karliah explained. “The Twilight Sepulcher was constructed around it by man and mer in order to shield it from those who would exploit its power. Through this conduit, we're given Nocturnal's greatest gift, our luck. What she gains in return is a complete mystery.”

Karliah bid them good luck, and the two Nightingales headed inside. They walked into a large room, where a part of pillars led to a glowing figure - one of the sentinels - and a staircase behind him. On the upper level were higher stone pillars that formed into arches. 

“I don't recognize you, but I sense that you're one of us. Who are you?” the figure turned to them, stopping Adi and Bryn in their tracks. 

“I'd ask the same question of you,” Adi spoke calmly. Brynjolf was almost too shocked to speak. 

“The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid.” He sighed. The sentinel sounded sad, defeated. Almost as if he had lost something when he was living. “I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity.” 

“The last? What happened to the rest?” Adi asked, taking a cautious step forward. 

“We were betrayed by one of our own kind. In fact, I'm to blame for what's happened here.”

“How are you to blame?”

“I was blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship.” What was he…? “Perhaps if I had been more vigilant, then Mercer Frey wouldn't have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key.” 

“Wait a moment... You're Gallus!” Adi and Bryn chorused together, looking at each other with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“I haven't heard that name in a long time. How do you know of me?” He brought the attention of the partners back to him.. 

“I have the Key,” Brynjolf said, showing Gallus the Skeleton Key. It felt heavy in his hand. 

“The Key! You have the Skeleton Key!” Gallus’ demeanour changed with excitement and relief in his voice. “I never thought I'd see it again. And Mercer Frey?”

“Dead,” Adi spoke with venom, eyes darkening. 

“Then... it's over, and my death wasn't in vain. I owe you both a great deal.”

“We did this to honour the Guild,” Brynjolf said truthfully.

“You've done the Guild a great deed.” Gallus gave a nod of acknowledgement, smiling under the mask. “ And although they may not show it, I'm certain they appreciate your sacrifices. My only regret is that you had to undertake this task alone.”

“Karliah helped us.” 

“Karliah... she's still alive?” It was clear he still loved her, and it made Adi smile. “I feared she'd befallen the same fate, ending up a victim of Mercer's betrayal.”

“Take the Key and right all the wrongs.” 

"Nothing would bring me more pride than to return the Key, but I'm afraid it's impossible. From the moment I arrived here, I've felt myself... well... dying."

“Then we’ll have to proceed alone.” Adi took Bryn’s hand, interlocking their fingers. 

“I'm afraid so.” Gallus nodded. “I'm weakening, and I can feel myself slipping away. The years without restoration of my power have taken their toll. Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim's Path to the Ebonmere and replacing the Key.”

“What will we face in the Pilgrim's Path?” Brynjolf inquired. 

“I wish I could help you, but I've been a prisoner in this very chamber for the last quarter century. The only possible help I've come across are the remains of some poor fellow who was trying to follow in your footsteps. Perhaps his journal can help?”

Gallus gestured to a skeleton East of him, and Adi and Bryn thanked him before moving to it. Adi picked up the journal and read it. 

“Shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark. They wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers. 

Above all, they stand, vigilance everlasting. 

Beholden the murk yet contentious of the glow. Offer what She desires most, but reject the material. For her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt or carried.

 Direct and yet indirect. The path to salvation a route of cunning with fortune betraying the foolish. 

The journey is complete. The Empress's embrace awaits the fallen. Hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion.”

“What do you think it means?” Brynjolf asked Adi as they read the words three times over. 

“I think the first one will have us fighting Sentinels,” Adi explained. “The second one has something to do with Nocturnal, and I believe darkness? I’m not sure what the third clue is. Those seem to be the most important.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Brynjolf shrugged. ��Ready to begin, lass? I’d rather get this key returned sooner than later.”

“Let’s go, then,” Adi nodded. They returned to Gallus, journal in hand, and he greeted them. 

“I see you’re ready.”

“As ready as we can be.” Adi had a good feeling about it. It seemed like this would be the easiest part of their journey. One that was almost over. 

“Good luck, Nightingale.”

[maysoulrose]

The Thief and The Moon chapter 9 | Skyrim fanfic

ohohoho another steamy chapter of my self indulgent Brynjolf x dragonborn oc fic... This one opens with a bit of self love...

————————————— chapter 9————————————-

Twinges of arousal vibrated through her.  How dare the man be this sexy. She darted her eyes around the room and spotted her pack by the door to the outside. Looking back at Brynjolf, he was bare footed, shirtless, and had only his underpants to protect him. He scratched his side and closed his door, yawning. Allustria shut hers as well. She stood and stared at the wood for a bit too long, lost in decision mode, heart pounding in her ears.

Leave the room to go get her pack so she can change in her nightgown? Go out there and drunkenly bang on his door, demanding sex and blame it on the mead in the morning? Or to pleasure herself and pass out from exhaustion.  

  She decided on the last option. Allustria turned, blew out her candle, and pulled at the strings of her armor. She slipped out of the leather and crawled onto her bed, lying on her back. Her fingers rubbed down the curves of her chest and torso, before slipping between her nether lips. Her middle finger immediately coated in a hot slippery liquid. 

Her breath shuddered and she closed her eyes. Her form pulsed and begged to be explored. Starting off slowly, she teased herself. Replaying the recent view of Brynjolf in her mind, Sliding her fingers down her nub, then gently back up. Circling her finger around it like the rim of a glass. 

Her fingers explored further and slipped inside of her, earning a soft moan. Rubbing the pink flesh with one, then two fingers, spreading them to stretch her out. Her middle finger slipped down further and pressed on her back entrance. Pushing against it rhythmically. With each press, her body spilled out more slippery lubrication, making it drip down.

She wanted something filling her so bad. Stretching her and rubbing against her deep inside, but she didn’t want splinters from the bed post, and the hilt of her dagger was too hard.

  The only thing she desperately wanted was for Brynjolf to open her door, completely naked, and to fuck her sensless. The thought of his erect cock rubbing against her spread through her mind and she mimicked the motions with her fingertips. Lapping her up, rubbing his shaft against her little bundle of nerves. Back and forth. Then slowly pushing in, penetrating her, feeling the heat burn and spread down her calves. 

Her knees swung open, fully exposing herself to the room. She rubbed her clit at a faster pace.  Her chest slowly expanded and began arching her back, pushing her chest into the air. Her nipples were hardened with goosebumps covering her skin. 

“Ah-” involuntary sounds escaped her lips. She pressed her free hand against her mouth, so she wouldn’t give herself away. Mounds of pleasure were expanding within, her climax coming close. She would tactically slow herself and adjust the pattern to keep feeling this ecstasy for as long as possible. Sliding the length of her finger against her clit, then pushing inside, then back out, and repeat. 

The climax pushed and pushed until finally tipping her over the edge.  With a hitch in her breath, her body buckled, reversing the arch of her back. Her fingers lingered for a bit, tracing, until it became too sensitive. She lay back and waited for her heart to calm down. After catching her breath, she brought her finger to her mouth and tasted the contents. Imagining Brynjolf tasting her like this. Her lids lowered and she fell fast asleep.  

—————————————————-

Morning broke and Brynjolf snapped awake to the sound of Wilhelm opening the bar for the day. He sat up, out of the blankets, and held his throbbing head. Rubbing his face to help him wake. Despite the headache, he didn’t drink quite enough to forget last night. 

He stared down at his feet and thought back on the events. Their playful flirting, laughter, and seeing Allustria’s humorous side. He was particularly fond of the short lived moment where she straddled his lap. He smiled to himself upon remembering. 

“She’s such a flirt.” He hoisted himself out of bed, deciding to blame it on the mead and didn’t put much thought into it. It’ll just stay in his mind for later days to come. 

Dressed back in his armor, he gathered his things, and left the room.

“Quite the night I see,” Wilhelm says, gesturing to the array of bottles splayed about the room. 

Brynjolf laughed. 

“Sorry ‘bout the mess.” He plopped the owed coin on the bar. He normally would have haggled the price down to fit his standards, but he didn’t really feel like taking advantage of the man.

Wilhelm nodded his head. 

“Any luck with your lady-friend, there?” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. Brynjolf just shook his head with a light chuckle. 

“Ah, no worries. These things take time.” He took up a glass to clean and pointed his rag toward the door “That hers?”

Brynjolf turns. Allustria’s pack was knocked over on the ground under one of the chairs.

“Yeah, I better take it to her.” 

--------------------------------------------------

Brynjolf knocks lightly on the door to Allustria’s room. 

“It’s me, can I come in?” He leans his head to the wood, but doesn’t hear a response. He turns the knob and slowly creaks open the door. “Are you decent? You left your pack out here.”  He peeks his head in. His eyes trail across the floor, sees her armor tossed on the ground, shoes kicked off in a hurry, and looks up to her bed. 

There she lay. Her beautiful hair cascading down the edge, almost sweeping the floor, her back to the room. She hugged a fur blanket to her chest, her backside fully exposed and naked. Brynjolf couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

he squoze through the crack in the door, and placed her pack on the ground next to the bed. His mind remembered his fantasies of pulling off her nightgown at the cistern,  her beautiful curves and soft skin. His heart skipped to the sight of her. She looked so sweet, hugging the blanket with one leg tucked underneath and the other on top. 

Starting to feel ashamed for staring while she wasn’t aware, he turned to quietly creep out of the room. 

“Huhn..” Allustria stirred. He froze. “Brynjolf?” He heard her whisper. He looked behind him. She was slowly sitting up, hair delicately censoring her nude body. She rubbed her eyes and tried to open them, but was squinting from the light.

“Can you get me some water?” Her voice was groggy.

“Sure thing.” He spun around and slipped back through the door. Being careful not to open it too much and exposing her to the inn.

He returned with a mug of cold water and some dried meat for breakfast. 

“Thank you~” She sounded more awake this time. Brynjolf leaned against the corner table and waited for her to finish her drink. Blanket covering her legs now, She handed him the empty mug.

“Now get outta here, so I can change, ya filthy perv~”  She smirked.

“Right, sorry.” He shielded his eyes for her entertainment, and left. 

When Allustria appeared from her room, she was dressed in her original fur armor with her top replaced by a leather form fitting top and a shoulder covering of furs. Far more fitting for the weather this time. The pair gathered all their things and headed out for the journey.

Brynjolf revealed a pouch of coin and jingled it for Allustria to hear.

“Took some souvenirs from the dressers in my room.” He winks. The elf tries to snatch it away from him, but he was too quick for her and tucked it away in one of his many pouches. She playfully huffed in disappointment. 

Shadowmere was lying near the water where they had left him. When he saw them approach, he hoisted himself up, and swished his tail. Allustria stretches her legs before attaching her pack to the saddle and taking her seat on the horse. Brynjolf jumps on after her. And with that, they are off to Whiterun.  

————————————-

They followed the road at a leisurely pace. Continuing to follow the river, past waterfalls, and down zig zagging mountainous slopes.  The skies were clear, birds were chirping, and things were peaceful. Suddenly the trees opened up and revealed an enormous valley below, speckled with volcanic pools. Allustria gasped

“I would love to go there sometime! Take a bath in the hot springs~ That sounds amazing right now.”

“Do you want to?” Brynjolf tried to hide his eagerness.

“Maybe on our way back, I have a job to do.” She leans her head back, smiling at him, upside down.

They leave the mountain path and arrive on a main road, crossing a bridge, and continue to follow the river. Turning a corner, a magnificent waterfall lay in front of them, with which the path climbed the next hill in the mountain to meet the top of it. 

The river turned to raging white rapids and a tower appeared on the horizon.

“Watch yourself, Lass. I think this is a bandit hideout.” Brynjolf whispers. 

“Hmmmm~” She hums a little excited tune.  Allustria gently tugs on the reins and Shadowmere obeys. 

“I’ll handle this.” She slides off of the horse and approaches the tower. A redguard woman, clad in similar armor to her own, gets up from her chair by a cooking spit, hand on the mace at her hip. 

“Hold it right there. This here’s a toll road. Meaning pay the toll, or find some other way around.”  The woman yells over the sound of the raging water behind her. Allustria stops about an arm's length from her. The woman cocks her head and raises her eyebrows.

“Are you daft? The toll is 100 gold septims, or fuck off!”

Brynjolf decided to dismount the horse in case he needed to intervene, but stayed near Shadowmere’s side. Allustria’s hand twitched, reaching for her hip. She took a step forward, looking down at her side, fumbling with her coin purse. The bandit held out her hand, rolling her eyes with an expression that showed she knew she was dealing with a weakling. 

Allustria smiled and placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder, who flinched and scowled.

“What are you—“ 

The elf thrusted her fist and pierced the woman’s stomach with her hidden blade. Blood pouring out, her eyes wide in fear, she slumped into Allustria with a choking gasp. 

Brynjolf flinched at Allustria’s quick movement, barely being able to react; it was done so quickly. Allsutria lowered the woman and knelt next to her as she bled, slashing her throat to finish her off. She immediately rifled through her pockets, collecting previous tolls that had yet to be delivered to the bandit leader. She turned to Brynjolf, chin tilted up slightly, catching the sunlight. Blood glistened across her cheek. 

“Want to do a good old fashioned bandit raid?” Nodding towards the tower.  

“… After you..” He agreed, feeling just a bit terrified of her.

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Threats And First Meetings PT. 3

Brynjolf x F!Dragonborn

Word Count: 2,260 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Blood and Wounds

Author’s Note: Holy shit it’s been like...I don’t even know how long since I updated this *insert shrugging emoji* Enjoy! -Thorne

Brynjolf felt like he should’ve known that Gulum-Ei was the one brokering the deals that were tearing the Guild to pieces. The damned argonian couldn’t resist a payout, even if it was the Guild he was backstabbing—it said a lot about honor amongst thieves, and while Brynjolf couldn’t claim to be the most honorable, at least he had some. All things considered, he couldn’t fault Gulum-Ei for doing it, whoever it was that wanted the Guild taken out was no doubt dishing out some serious coin to make it happen.

           That being said, their newest member was again tasked with the mission. Brynjolf wasn’t going to voice his opinion out loud, but he knew that she was running herself into the ground. He was sure that she’d not taken a moment of reprieve to simply breathe before throwing herself back into the thick of things. Quite the opposite, she’d taken a couple more jobs from both Vex and Delvin—though Brynjolf was sure she’d only taken them because the two thieves had essentially guilt tripped her. He watched her as Mercer walked off, leaving her to rub at her temples, a heavy sigh falling from her lips.

           “Wondering if you’re in over your head, lass?” he inquired, leaning back against the desk as he crossed his arms over his chest.

           She snorted and rolled her shoulders. “Only every moment of every day, Brynjolf.” Catching his eyes, she quipped, “Why is it that I’m the one who’s being given the major missions and not the other members of the Guild?”

           He mocked a look of deep thought then offered, “You’re not a senior member so you do what we tell you? Her eyes briefly widened before she burst into laughter, the sound making Brynjolf’s stomach flip.

           “Oh ho? It’s seniority then?” she leaned close, mirth in her eyes as she questioned, “So when does the newbie get to claim seniority?”

           Brynjolf grinned at her. “I’d say a couple years.”

           “What!”

           “Maybe a few if I’m being completely honest.”

           A groan passed her lips. “By that time, you lot will actually be seniors—well, not that you’re young now.”

           He almost recoiled at that. Almost. “Did yo—did you just call me old?”

           She placed a hand on his bicep, sympathetically replying, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly a stripling anymore, Brynjolf.”

           Blinking, he deadpanned, “I don’t think I’ve ever been called old by a woman before.”

           Grinning, she asked, “Tell me, do all the young women you take to bed call you sprightly?” He nodded and she giggled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Brynjolf.”

           She leaned close until her lips brushed his ear, whispering, “When we call you older men sprightly, it’s only so you don’t feel bad about your age.”

           Brynjolf turned slightly, catching her gaze, and murmured, “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble one day, lass.”

           Her eyes narrowed as she mused, “So far it’s gotten me out of trouble.” She pulled away and tugged the shawl over her bare shoulders, turning to make her way back to the Flagon.

           She stopped a few feet though and glanced over her shoulder. “But if it means I’d be in trouble with you, Brynjolf, I don’t think I’d mind it.” Winking, she left him to flounder with the suggestion of her words.

***

           Her side ached with a fury, and the continual prodding of the linen against the wound didn’t help. With each brush against the open wound, it sent a bolt of fire through her nerves, as if she were being stuck with a hot poker. Still though, she focused on returning to the city, knowing that if she could just get home, she’d be able to clean and stitch it up.

           Softly moaning, she slipped inside the gate, turning down the narrow alley that led into Honeyside’s garden. Briefly, she brought her free hand up and felt along the wall to lead her. As she neared the garden, movement flashed in her vision and she stopped in her tracks, squinting in the darkness to discern what it was. Someone was bent over one of the barrels in the corner and she growled.

           “This is private property. Piss off.”

           They stood upright, turning round to face her and when the moonlight illuminated their features beneath the hood, she muttered, “Brynjolf?”

           He raised a hand, pushing the hood up slightly, stepping towards her. “Lass? What are you doing here? I thought you were heading to Solitude?”

           She shook her head, then winced when a flash of nausea came over her. “No, had to do something’s around here before I did.” A sudden flash of pain simmered in her side and a groan passed her lips, the throbbing threatening to send her to her knees.

           “Lass?” he questioned, voice twinged with worry. “Are you alright?” Waving him off, she pulled from the wall, trying to get to the door of Honeyside.

           “‘m fine,” she grunted, though her vision began to blur with darkness. “Just gotta…get some rest.”

           She’d barely made it two feet when her knees finally gave out, sending her towards the dirt. Just before she hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her from kissing the floor, pulling her up.

           “Lass!” he yelled, then he cursed, concerned that the guards would come running. “What happened?” he demanded, curling an arm under her legs to pick her up. The jostling made her groan, and she fought the urge to recoil from him when the buckle of his chest armor nudged her side.

           “Ngh—steam centurion in Avanchnzel.” She hissed when he started walking, switching her grip to curl her arm around his shoulders, hoping it would steady her. “Caught the backside of the battle—ngh—axe when I was dodging it.”

           Brynjolf turned and nudged the door to Honeyside open, bringing her inside.

           “When I’m not dying, I’m going to kick your ass for break—sonovabitch!” she gasped when he dropped her on the bed, hurrying towards the kitchen to gather supplies.

           He returned and started pulling the laces of her tavern corset undone. Despite the pain, she giggled, “Most men buy me dinner first.” A grin set on his lips as he pulled the last string loose, yanking the cedar-colored corset from around her.

           “I’ll treat you to dessert after,” he mused, then looked up at her. “Skirt or straps?”

           Her brows furrowed. “Beg pardon?”

           “Either I’m lifting your skirt up or I’m pulling your straps down. Make up your mind which decency you’d like to keep,” he countered, and she huffed, reaching up to slip the ringed straps from her shoulders.

           “Should’ve known a scoundrel like you was a skirt lifter. Despicable.”

           Brynjolf barked a laugh, helping her to roll the gold fabric down. “Please, I haven’t lifted skirts since I was a boy.”

           “Mhm.”

           “Honest, lass. I’ve grown out of immature acts like that,”’ he explained as the poorly wrapped wound came into sight. It’d soaked crimson in the time she’d travelled back, and he frowned as he untied the knot, gently peeling it back. She started to let out a whimper but grit her teeth and inhaled sharply.

           “Sorry lass,” Brynjolf murmured, wiping at the blood. He glanced up, watching as she propped herself up on her elbows, hands clenching into fists.

           “Just hurry up and seal it,” she griped, and he passed her a strip of leather. Seeming to understand, she brought it up to her mouth and bit into it, then met his eyes and nodded.

           Sighing heavily, he rose from the side of the bed and returned with the hot knife that had been sitting right next to the fire—she could feel the heat when he brought it close to her, kneeling back on the bed.

           He met her eyes and she inhaled deeply, giving him a nod of her head. Brynjolf rested his other hand on the side of her ribs a few inches above the wound, effectively bracing himself as well as keeping her still.

           Lowering the metal to her, he said, “Try and stay still. I don’t wanna burn you where you’re not wounded.” She barely made a noise of confirmation when the burning metal came into contact with her skin.

           Her eyes went wide, and she immediately threw her head back into the bed as a muffled scream escaped her, hands white knuckling the covers of her blanket. A deep pit fell in his stomach at the tears that began to run down her cheeks, but he kept the knife to her for another couple seconds before pulling it back, watching as her chest heaved with each breath. Glancing back at the wound, he knew she needed another go, probably two if he was honest.

           “I need to do it again,” Brynjolf murmured and she groaned like a dying animal. “I know lass, but you’re still bleeding.” She sucked in a quick breath through her nose and grunted, muscles tensing underneath his grip as she readied herself once more.

           He flipped the knife in his grip and placed it to her side again, and the screech that left her this time, made him wince, but he held it there. After a couple seconds, he pulled the knife away and examined the wound, and when he saw that it wasn’t bleeding anymore, he tossed the knife aside, letting it clatter to the floor.

           “Lass? You alright?” his eyes scanned her for any problems, and she turned her head to the side, spitting out the leather strip. Letting out a huff, she brought up a hand, intent to prod the wound, but he caught it. “Don’t touch it yet.” He met her eyes. “Do you have any distilled alcohol?”

           Groaning heavily, she nodded. “Downstairs in my…alchemy room.” She swallowed thickly. “There’s a few…health and disease potions too.” Meeting his eyes, she added, “Bring one of each…please.”

           Brynjolf nodded and headed down the stairs, coming up a few moments later with two tiny red vials and one large clear bottle. He set them on her nightstand before gently curling his arms underneath her back to shift her over slightly. When there was enough space, he sat beside her and grabbed the glass bottle, uncorked it, and poured some on a spare linen cloth. Brynjolf dabbed the wound, quietly apologizing when she hissed in pain.

           When he was finished, he took the fresh wrap and helped her sit up so he could wrap it around her waist. Tying it with a knot, he handed her the two vials, gazing as she downed them both before looking at him with an expression of relief. Suddenly feeling weak, she leaned forward, careful to avoid her wound, and pressed her forehead into Brynjolf’s shoulder. He brought up a hand, softly caressing the bare expanse of her back.

           “Thank you, Brynjolf,” she whispered, shivers running up her spin at his touch. “I would’ve been in a perilous state if you hadn’t been around.”

           Chuckling, he replied, “I would say anytime, but I don’t wanna have to do this again for a long time, so try to stay safe.”

           A snort escaped her, and she turned her head up, resting her cheek on his shoulder, gazing into his eyes. “Why try when this is the treatment?”

           His green eyes narrowed as he retorted, “While I’m flattered that you want me as a bedside-nurse, I really don’t wanna do this again.” He brough his other hand up, gently touching her cheek. “I already worry about you. No need to up it.”

           “You worry? Does that make me special?” she cooed tiredly, pulling away from him to lay back on the bed.

           Brynjolf huffed a laugh and stood, opening the closet beside her bed. “You enjoy teasing me, lass.”

           “Is it working?” she asked, watching as he pulled out a simple blue tunic. Shuffling around on the bed, she managed to wiggle the tavern skirt to her calves and when he spun around, Brynjolf’s eyes swept over her body.

           “Shame on you for ogling an indecent woman, Brynjolf. What would Lady Mara think?” she tutted, and he grinned at her.

           “I’m not sure about Lady Mara, but I certainly know what Lady Dibella would do,” he countered, and she giggled.

           “Now who’s teasing?” He handed her the tunic, and she shrugged it on, pulling it down her chest and over her thighs. Brynjolf helped her under the covers, watching as her eyelids began to slip shut. Just to be sure, at least that’s what he told himself, he laid his palm over her forehead, checking for warmth.

           Her eyes opened slightly, and he said, “Make sure you change the wrap when you wake up in the morning. Don’t wanna get an infection on the way to Solitude.”

           She nodded, letting out a yawn and sunk into her pillow. “Yeah, yeah, I will.”

           “Lass,” he warned, and she huffed, a smile spreading on her lips.

           “I will, promise.”

           Brynjolf gave her a look and pulled his hand away. “I’ll take my leave of you.” As he neared the doors to her patio, she called for him.

           “Brynjolf?” he paused and glanced over his shoulder, heart fluttering in his chest as she whispered, “Thank you…for saving me like this.”

           He gave her a smile. “Of course, lass. I’ll be here whenever you need me to be.” He pulled the door open, smile growing larger when he heard her sleepily murmur,

           “Hope it stays that way.”

[ladydaedra]

Whiterun

Part: 10/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC; Ondolemar x OC

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of 'Game of Thrones' feeling; may contain controversial themes.

Wordcount: 2009

~~~~~

"This is it, men! " Galmar yells at the Stormcloak soldiers as Whiterun is bombarded with trebuchet attacks, "They say that our cause is false and that we are nothing more than thieves, thugs, and murderers! But no! We are farmers! We are craftsmen! We are sons and daughters of shopkeepers, maidservants and soldiers! We are the sons and daughters of Skyrim!" Ayla looks back at the large army from where she stands on a rock, observing the city. Her own army stands amongst the Stormcloaks and they too cheer at Galmar's speech.

"And we have come this far because our cause is true. Because we fight as one. And because our hearts are bursting with anger!" Galmar continues, his voice loud and strong, "What we do here today, we do for our country! For all the true Nords of Skyrim!" both armies cheer at his words and Ayla tightens her grip on her bow, an arrow knocked with the tip on fire as a way to signal Aaryah when to attack.

"Whiterun's walls are tall, but they are old and crumbling, like the Empire whose Legion lines them," Galmar informs the armies, glancing over at the city before looking back at the soldiers, "They've barricades to block us, but we'll tear through them and the Imperials behind them! Our objective is the drawbridge. If we can find a way to drop it, the city will be ours! Everyone on me. Let's show these Imperial milk drinkers what true Nords look like!"

Ayla hears the armies give a battle cry as they charge towards the city. She watches as the Imperials fire arrows on the advancing soldiers, their focus on what is on the ground but not what is in the sky. Ayla raises her bow and pulls the string back as a gust of wind blows. She aims for the broken tower behind the Imperial's barricades and fires.

The arrow whistles as it flies through the air but Ayla soon loses it and assumes it hit correctly as a dragon descends from the sky, landing on the tower and lighting a few Imperials on fire. With a smile, Ayla jumps off the rock and hurries around the walls and climbs the walls behind the barricade. She lands behind an Imperial, whose arrow is aimed at Galmar, and slits his throat. He spasms as he grasps at his open throat before falling to the floor, dead within a few seconds.

"Odahviing,"

"It's the Dragonborn!" an Imperial yells, alerting the rest of his comrades, "she's with the Stormcloaks," he adds and draws his sword, hesitating to attack her. An arrow takes him down and that is when the Imperials break out of their shock and charge at her. She sidesteps the first attack and sends one of her swords into the chest of another. She pulls the blade out just in time to block an attack as she slices the throat of another soldier with her second sword.

"Fus Ro Dah!" she Shouts when a large cluster of Imperials charge at her, sending them flying into walls or over them while some soldiers are lucky to just slide across the ground. She barely misses being hit by an arrow as she runs over towards the raised drawbridge. She quickly runs into the tower and fights her way to the top and onto the bridge where the drawbridge controls are.

She lowers the drawbridge and turns around in time to see Odahviing land and set an entire group of the opposing side, both Imperial and Whiterun city guards, on fire before flying off again, this time over the walls and into the city. Ayla hurries down the ladder and into the city, where most of their enemies have been defeated thanks to the dragons.

"Hurry! To Dragonsreach!" Galmar yells as he runs past her, several Stormcloak soldiers following him. Ayla turns to see some of her soldiers there.

"Go through the city, kill any attacker you face," she orders them as she takes a few steps in the direction of the market, "help any and all civilians injured because of the fighting and protect them with your lives," she adds before turning and running towards Dragonsreach. She hears one of the dragons set something on fire nearby but she doesn't look to see who.

Instead, she cuts down any enemy on her way to Dragonsreach, stopping only when she sees Athena and Vilkas in front of Jorrvaskr, "what's wrong?" she asks the female, who smiles.

"Nothing," she replies, "just making sure the rest of the Companions are safe. We'll be back in the fight soon," she promises and Ayla nods her head.

"Odah and Aaryah did most of the fighting inside the city for us," she explains before glancing over her shoulder at the deserted streets of Whiterun, littered with Imperial and Guard bodies. What a waste of life, she thinks before turning back to her friend, "go through the city and find and aid any civilians," she adds and runs off before Athena can reply.

Ayla runs up the steps and is soon standing in front of the door. She places her hand on the wood and sighs, remembering when she first entered the hall so long ago and how welcoming Balgruuf was. Now she is here, attacking his city. She can only imagine what will happen when she enters the hall.

"Enough, I surrender!" she hears Balgruff yell from above the stairs, "I surrender. Peace! Everyone stand down," Ayla walks up the steps and stops at the top, seeing Galmar and a few Stormcloak soldiers standing between her and Balgruuf, "that's an order! Stand down,"

Ayla looks over to see an elderly man walk past her and stand next to Galmar. She walks forward a few steps but stays in the background, "Vignar Grey-Mane," Balgruuf says with an irritated tone, "your family was noticeably absent from the walls. Now I know why. Wouldn't a dagger in the back have sufficed?"

"You think this is personal?" Vignar asks, anger in his tone as he puts his hands on his hips, "the Empire has no place in Skyrim...not anymore. And you?" Vignar pauses for effect, "you have no place in Whiterun anymore," Ayla stares at the old man's back, raising an eyebrow at the man's gloating tone.

"A convenient position to hold now. But mark my word's old man, in the days to come, Ulfric will spread his rebellion thin. And what then?" Balgruuf asks the group, his arms crossed across his chest as he glares at them.

Galmar chuckles, "you couldn't have possibly seen the attacking dragons while locked in here," he says as he steps aside, revealing Ayla to the former Jarl, "let this answer your question," Galmar adds and Ayla slowly looks at Balgruuf to see him shaking his head in disappointment.

"You too?" he asks her and Ayla looks away, unable to handle his words, "you, Thane of Whiterun, attacked this city for what? For glory? Money?"

"I did it for Skyrim," she snaps angrily, turning to face his wrath head-on. She can feel her voice start to waver but she stays strong. Balgruuf stares at her for a few seconds before scoffing at her words.

"That's what they all say,"

"I didn't do it to destroy the Empire, I am doing this to end the Thalmor, who are my true enemies," Ayla says firmly, taking a few steps towards him and keeping her head held high, "believe me I wish it wouldn't end this way but it must. The Thalmor's claim on this land will be destroyed, even if I must die to do so,"

She watches in silence as Balgruuf processes her words, his eyes burning holes in her skin. Ayla purses her lips to keep her emotions from showing, "Why should I trust a woman who betrayed my trust," he says with no emotion before looking away from her.

Ayla scoffs, shaking her head and sighing, "you will be going to my base as a prisoner of war," she informs the Jarl, who whips his head to stare at her, "my soldiers will transport you under lock and key and bound by chains. Your children will be staying at my base, taken in by a family where they will be taught manners,"

"You can't!" Balgruuf says in disbelief, "they're my children, they need their father!" Ayla almost caved but she clears her throat and meets his gaze with a cold one of her own.

"You should have thought about that before you sided with the Empire," she says before turning and leaving the building, passing a large group of her soldiers as she goes. Once the door shuts she hurried off to behind the palace, where she recollects herself.

She leans against the stone walls of the city, eyes closed and biting her lip to keep herself from breaking down in sobs. She just destroyed a family and betrayed one of the few people she trusted with her life. She feels disgusted with herself. As someone who knows what it is like to grow up without any parents, she shouldn't be the one to do that to other kids.

War is a nasty thing and she can't imagine that ruling a country will be any different. She wipes her eyes, which had shed a few tears, before returning to her soldiers.

~~

"You'll regret this, Dragonborn," Irileth snarls at Ayla as she is led past, her red eyes glaring at her. Ayla looks away from the Dunmer woman, refusing to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her reaction.

"I brought you into my home. I made you my Thane. I trusted you," Balgruuf seethes as he stops in front of Ayla. She looks up at him with an emotionless gaze. She wasn't going to break. She wasn't. She refused to, "and you repay me by burning my town,"

Something shifts behind Ayla and she glances over her shoulder to see Odahviing there, his red eyes locked on the Jarl as a growl emits from his throat, "with the dragon I helped you trap, no less," Balgruuf adds and Ayla turns to look back at him, "the dragon I risked my city to trap," he continues and Ayla raises an eyebrow.

"Guilt tripping me won't work, Balgruuf, you know that," she reminds him as she crosses her arms, "believe me when I say that I wish things turned out differently, I really do. But you chose your side and I can't make you change your mind,"

Balgruuf stares down at her in silence for a few seconds, studying her features before scoffing, "you're right, you can't," he agrees, "but tell me where my children will be going since they're practically orphans now,"

"You're not dying, Balgruuf," Ayla explains as Odahviing huffs behind her, "Ulfric wanted to, but I convinced him to spare you and your family as a repayment for how much you helped me in the past," she pauses as she watches Balgruuf's children follow her soldiers out of Whiterun, "as I told you before, your children will be taken in by a family at my base where they will work in the farms, not as slaves, but as free children, able to run and play to their hearts content,"

Balgruuf remains silent, watching his young son and daughter leave their home, "I suppose I must thank you for not throwing them into a cell," he mutters begrudgingly as he looks back at the Dragonborn, his anger calming, "and I wish you luck in your attempt to rid Skyrim of the elves without the Empire's help," he adds before he is led away again.

"Things are going to get worse," she says softly and Odah hums in response.

"Do you think you did the right thing?"

Ayla shrugs, taking a deep breath, "we shall see in the months to come," she replies as she looks over at the red-scaled dragon, "tonight has changed the course of this war, for better or for worse,"

[sinnerandafool]

Winter to Spring - My Skyrim Thieves Guild Fanfic

This is my Skyrim fanfic, based loosely on my current play through. If you are able to use mods, I highly recommend Take Notes - Journal of the Dragonborn. Writing a journal as my character definitely made me more invested in her story. 

Here is the link to the whole story on Ao3 x.

I’m a rookie fic writer, so any feedback is appreciated, but mostly I hope you enjoy it, and that it serves as a good distraction from the hellscape we live in (Americans). 

Title: Winter to Spring

Chapters: 4/?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (the MC experienced some in her past, and is experiencing sexual harassment in the first chapter.)

Rating: M (for violence, eventual sexual content)

Relationship: Brynjolf / Female Dovahkiin

Chapter 1

Aerlith woke alone, drowsily opening her eyes as the sounds of morning birds and running water filtered into her consciousness. A piney scent permeated the little fur tent. She rolled to one side, her sore muscles protesting. She closed her eyes, trying to fall back into the delicious dream she had been having. All she recalled were light touches, warm embraces, and a soft, deep voice calling her name. Well, not her name precisely. No one knew her true name, only the false one she used day to day. She sighed. For the thousandth time in her life, she cursed her past for making her a fugitive. She rolled over again, restlessly seeking sleep, but hunger nagged at her stomach, so she reluctantly got up and exited the tent.

Sitting on a boulder next to the stream babbling by, she stared up at the entrance of the ruin before her. The Twilight Sepulcher. The trials of the Pilgrim’s Path were still painfully fresh in her mind. Aerlith never liked ruins. The smell of decay, the damp darkness, and worst of all, the deafening silence, which often signaled the presence of slumbering draugr. She shuddered, recalling their evil glowing eyes and hollow flesh.

Despite her fear, Aerlith had been successful in her mission to return the Skeleton Key to its rightful place. She felt apathetic about Nocturnal, and suspected the lady of twilight felt similarly about her. Daedric princes were never concerned with the fates of their human worshippers, and to Aerlith it seemed a tad foolish to risk one’s life in exchange for unreliable favor. But no matter her skepticism, she’d completed Nocturnal’s trial, and at last reached the Ebonmere, where she returned the Skeleton Key. She didn’t do it for Nocturnal. She did it for her family.

She smiled sadly, thinking about Karliah and Gallus, saying their final goodbyes before he faded into the Evergloam. Gallus had extended his spectral hand to touch his beloved’s cheek with such tenderness and sincerity it made her heart ache. “Farewell,” Karliah had intoned softly, leaning into his intangible touch. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Her voice was even, and Aerlith couldn’t see her face, but something in her tone betrayed absolute misery at the parting.

Aerlith took the last bite of her apple and stood. She stretched, then set about packing up her camp. She was tired, yes, but she was also brimming with excitement. Nocturnal would no longer sabotage the luck of the guild, and their chances of success would increase. The wealth would marginally improve the lives of her newfound family, and she couldn’t wait to share in their happiness. And, of course, she was curious about what he would have to say.

Aerlith hired a carriage to take her from Falkreath to Riften, opting for comfort and rest in exchange for one hundred-fifty hard earned septims. But it was worth it, she thought, snuggled under a warm fur cloak and hood, watching the scenery pass by idly while the horse did all the work. Her life for the past few weeks had been constant hiking, camping and delving into dangerous ruins. She was ready for a break.

One long day and night later, the carriage creaked its way up a gentle rise, and Riften Stables came into view. Feeling lethargic and in need of exercise, Aerlith tapped the driver on the shoulder and asked him to let her off. He obliged, and urged his horse up the road without her.

She strolled languidly along the road, slowly stretching her stiff legs. The Rift was blooming. The aspens sprouted new leaves, wildflowers grew madly across the landscape, and birds were everywhere, singing their chirruping songs. Aerlith breathed in the clean spring air, intoxicated by the warmth and life of it all. After the dank Sepulcher and gloomy Falkreath hold, this was paradise.

By and by she reached the main gate of Riften, nodding to the guards in their livery, who smiled coyly at her as she passed. They knew who she was, or at least, they knew her reputation in the hold. She had been gone for a long time, and among the nosy guards there were several betting pools on whether she’d make it back alive. The guard guffawed and shook hands with his partner, who reluctantly tossed him a purse. Arielle had returned home at last, and he was rich.

Aerlith skirted the marketplace, moving quickly along the perimeter towards the keep. Though it was a warm day, she pulled her hood securely over her face, and kept her head down. Thankfully, it was a busy time in the market, so she was able to slip through without attracting much attention.

At the secret back entrance to the cistern, she nudged the button and waited for the coffin to slide back. As usual it made an unpleasantly loud grinding sound, and she wondered for the hundredth time why none of the citizens ever commented on it, or attempted to gain entry. It was another strange feature of Riften life. She still wasn’t used to the confounding apathy that permeated the city.

Below, she lifted the hatch and descended the ladder into the darkness. Though the cistern was damp and cool, warmth spread from her heart when she saw her guildmates gathered on the center dais. Everyone was here, safe, and from the looks of it listening raptly to Karliah. The dark elf stood beside Brynjolf, entertaining the small crowd with her part of the tale of the Skeleton Key’s return. Arielle approached silently to listen.

“I was working to clear some rubble when I saw the portal glow to life. I knew what must have happened, and I eagerly stepped through it and into Nocturnal’s sanctum. I just managed to catch the lady fading back into her realm, and then I saw Arielle. Her face was the perfect picture of shock. I called out to her and she looked at me as if from a hundred miles away. I swear I’ve never seen her look so bewildered.” Karliah smiled, and Brynjolf chuckled softly, looking thoughtful.

“In all fairness,” Aerlith said softly, feeling the eyes of her guildmates shift to her, “If you’d just taken a leap of faith, fallen toward your certain death, and then come face to face with a daedric prince for the first time, I imagine you’d look the same, Karliah,” she smiled, meeting her friends’ eyes.

Karliah beamed at her. “Welcome back Arielle!” She crossed the dais and pulled her into a tight hug. “Would you care to share your side of the story?”

“At the moment, all I would like is a bath and a bottle of Surilie wine,” she said, smiling. “And, to be honest, I think our lady would like to keep some of her secrets sacred.” Aerlith winked at Rune, who was staring at her with boldfaced shock.

Brynjolf stepped toward her, smiling. “Well done, lass. It’s good to see you in one piece.” He clapped her shoulder, then became more serious. “I’m not much good at things like this, but I need to thank you for all you’ve done for the guild. I’m so proud-”

“Oh, enough fluff Brynjolf,” Vex said exasperatedly. “We’re all happy. Let the poor woman have her bath in peace.”

Karliah grinned and squeezed Aerlith’s hand. “Indeed. Let’s all go to the Flagon and have a proper celebration!”

The guild all made approving noises and began to filter out, several of the members stopping to offer words of encouragement to Aerlith.

“Arielle!” exclaimed one, a handsome, burly nord with striking warpaint beneath his eyes. “I’m so glad you returned safely. ” He took her hand and kissed it, never breaking eye contact. “My sword and bow are always at the ready for you. You need not fear any foe with me by your side.”

“Hello Thrynn,” Aerith said tiredly. “Pleasure as always.” She pulled her hand away. “But I really would like to go relax now. It was a long journey from Falkreath. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped closer, a mischievous smile on his face. “Perhaps you’d like some company in the bath, little dove,” he growled softly, his voice like the ragged edge of an old battleaxe.  She could feel his breath on her ear. A chill ran down her neck, goosebumps rising.

“No,” she said firmly, “Thank you.” She pulled away from him, and strode, head held high across the cistern to the entrance of the baths.

Thrynn admired her retreating figure until it vanished into darkness. He turned to go to the Flagon, but was stopped short in his tracks by Brynjolf, who leaned against a wall by the door, face wreathed in shadow. Thrynn scowled. “What are you doing skulking around like that, Brynjolf? Out of the way.” He tried to push past, but Brynjolf stopped him.

“When will you give it up, Thrynn?”

“Give what up?”

“Arielle. I don’t know how many times you need to be rejected for the message to come across loud and clear,” Brynjolf stood up, taking a step closer.

Thrynn laughed heartily at the threat. “You know nothing of women if you thought that was rejection,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “Women always play hard to get.” He smiled lasciviously then continued, “That’s what makes Arielle so irresistibly delicious.”

Brynjolf’s mouth set into a grim line. “Don’t talk about her that way. She’s not a blushing lady for you to seduce. She is your sister in arms,” he said forcefully.

The bandit chuckled. “Not like you to be so hypocritical, Brynjolf. You hold your subordinates to a higher standard than yourself.”

“Not sure what you are implying, but I advise you to choose your next words very carefully.” Brynjolf’s green eyes hardened, the anger in them sharper than the finest glass dagger.

Thrynn swallowed. “Everyone knows about you and the fence,” he said boldly.

“Oh yes?” Brynjolf smiled darkly at Thrynn, and the bandit wondered for a moment if he should be ready to brawl. “Get out of my sight,” the second in command spat at him.

Relieved, Thrynn pushed past his superior and rushed through the door to the Flagon. Brynjolf frowned, his brow furrowed, and stared off into the darkness where Arielle had been a moment before.

Aerlith had never been so happy to sink into a hot bath. She wasted no time, quickly shimmying out of her light armor, leaving it in a heap on the floor. She lowered herself indulgently into the water. The grime from the Sepulcher, the dust from the road, and the cold of Skyrim that permeated her bones gave way to the warmth of the water. She glowed with happy contentment. She was home among her friends again. The faces of Karliah, Vex, Brynjolf and Delvin brought such joy to her. After her lonely sojourn through Skyrim, she had everything she needed. And Brynjolf was proud of her. His warm green eyes and welcome smile made her glow even brighter. She grabbed up her soap and began to wash, smiling to herself.

Her mind wandered unbidden back to Thrynn. The former bandit was friendly enough, though difficult to trust at the best of times. But his constant flirting was beginning to be more than just a minor annoyance. She’d failed to reject him firmly enough the first time, and he had been ignoring her subsequent tries with horrifyingly admirable gumption.

When Aerlith first joined the guild, Thrynn, along with practically every other man with eyes had been quite open about their interest in her. At first she had blushed furiously red when they complimented her, or touched her. She would always freeze in place and clam up, her mind unable to form thoughts, her mouth unable to speak. Her innocent reaction made them laugh, at which point they would ruffle her hair and leave her to go about their business. Aerlith began spending more time with Vex, observing how her friend would openly laugh at the men accosting her, and she learned how to handle unwanted advances with more confidence. As she rejected the men, one by one they moved on. It was better this way. She hoped their interest stemmed merely from her novelty, and not from any other motives.

Thrynn was not as easy to deal with. He pushed past her discouragement, whether it was polite or harsh. He continued to harass her, to touch her, to whisper vile things in her ear that made her blush. She felt beat down by his constant disregard for her wish to be left alone, and had resolved to just ignore him when she could. It reminded her a little too much of the way Jarl Siddgeir’s sneering, lecherous expression, when he cornered her in the darkened servant’s quarters all those months ago. She shuddered at the memory. She could still feel his body weight pressing her into the wall, the hard length of his arousal grinding into her angrily. Something died within her that night. She had no skills, no strength, and no way out. Her silver eyes hardened. Things had changed. If she ever met Siddgeir again, she would have her revenge.

Aerlith soaped her long, pale blonde hair, gently teasing out the tangles. She never felt more powerful, more able to protect herself at this moment. The frightened and helpless girl she once was had grown into a dangerous woman. Her mediocre skills with a dagger, which had been scoffed at by Vilkas of Jorrvaskr, had improved under Brynjolf’s friendly tutelage. Thanks to him, and to the other members of the guild who shared their expertise, Aerlith was silent, fast, and deadly.

Feeling clean and refreshed, Aerlith allowed herself a moment to wallow in the hot water. There was one man in the guild who was ostensibly uninterested in her: Brynjolf. His attentions to her were friendly, but professional. He patiently taught her the tools of a thief’s trade, gently correcting her when she needed it. She was grateful that he did not ridicule her inexperience. He offered his advice after giving her a job, and usually ended by staring her down with his shiny green eyes as he said, “And be careful, lass.”

When she returned successful and pocket jingling with coin, he would clap her on the back or shoulder, offering her encouragement and smiles that she hoped contained pride. She was his protege, after all. Thanks to Brynjolf, Aerlith had a safe place to sleep, and a well paying job that allowed her to keep a low profile. She was more than grateful to him, and their relationship was more than a simple friendship. But whether her feelings for him were platonic was a question she desperately tried to avoid. She knew he didn’t see her as anything more than a pupil.

However, Aerlith occasionally caught him staring at her from across rooms, his eyes serious as he contemplated her. It seemed unfair to her that she couldn’t decipher the meaning behind this. It was all too easy to imagine that he felt something for her too. On the night they met, Brynjolf flirted with her shamelessly, and though she knew now that his attention had been false, simply a means to an end, her attraction and interest in him that night was real.

Another memory fought its way to the surface. The guild threw a large celebration when the three Nightingales returned successful, Mercer dead and Karliah safely home again with her honor restored. That night, Aerlith begged off an arm wrestling match with Vex, opting to take a cup of wine to a quiet table on the outer ring of the din. There she sat and watched the merriment, laughing as Vekel hit on Tonilia and she slapped him forcefully for his impertinence, nearly knocking the slight man down. Tonilia huffed away, going to sit across from Brynjolf at his table. As Aerlith’s eyes followed the woman in amusement, they lit upon Brynjolf and stuck there. He was watching her again. She looked back at him, surprised. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face. The shadows made it too difficult to see, but the glint in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

She didn’t look away. Neither did he. Aerlith felt heat beginning to rise in her cheeks, but she was transfixed. His green eyes shone at her as he leaned forward into the candlelight, resting his chin on his hand. The light revealed his faintly amused smile, which she returned hesitantly. But then, Tonilia said something to him and he looked away, the tension released. Aerlith felt let down. The rumors of Brynjolf and Tonilia’s romantic involvement may not have been true, but to Aerlith it seemed they shared a closer relationship than was usual. It pricked her to see him smile so easily and openly with Tonilia, joking raunchily and teasing her. With Aerlith, Brynjolf acted as the wise teacher, the helpful mentor. Her gratitude prevented her from feeling resentment, but her disappointment could not be helped.

Aerlith finished scrubbing her hair and rose from the bath. She toweled herself quickly and dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, pulling on her stockings and boots. She didn’t bother to arrange her hair or apply any cosmetics. Fatigue wore on her, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the giddy depths of a bottle.

She entered the tavern a few minutes later. Karliah, sitting with Vex and Delvin, saw her come in and motioned for her to join them. Aerlith smiled and went over.

“Here you are, yer ladyship,” Delvin said gruffly, pouring her a cup of her favorite Surilie vintage. “Only the best for the woman of the hour.”

Aerlith sat down and picked up the cup. Seized by a sudden emotion, she raised it and said, “To the guild! May it last another thousand years.” The others raised their flagons as well, adding their “Hear, hear”s and “To the guild!”s. Aerlith drank deeply, draining half her cup in one go. She wasn’t planning on drinking lightly.

“So,” Vex said, “Care to tell us more about your exploits, Arielle? Delvin is practically foaming at the mouth with curiosity.” She smiled wickedly at him, and he smacked her hand.

Aerlith laughed. She had missed the banter of her friends during her long journey alone. She drank again, considering. Vex was still looking at her curiously, so she said, “Not much to tell I’m afraid, Vex.”

Vex scowled. “You Nightingales and your secrets,” she muttered darkly. But she brightened up quickly when she spotted something over Aerlith’s shoulder. “Watch out,” she said, smiling sneakily at Aerlith and rising from the table. “Delvin, Karliah, come here. I want to show you something.” Vex beckoned them across the room, leaving Aerlith alone with her wine.

Puzzled, Aerlith drained the rest of her cup, and reached for the bottle to pour another. A larger, rougher hand covered hers and tightened it against the glass bottleneck.

“Thirsty tonight, eh little dove?” Thrynn’s rough voice whispered in her ear. Aerlith pulled her hand away, and watched as Thrynn poured her wine, filling her cup nearly to the brim. He moved and sat down in the chair next to hers, resting his head on one hand lazily. “I can think of many more delicious ways to quench your thirst.” He licked his lips, the suggestion obvious.

Aerlith rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your input Thrynn.”

He chuckled. “So cold. Any other man would think you hated him.”

“Then why don’t you take the hint?” Aerlith asked sharply.

Thrynn leaned back in his chair and regarded her. She felt his eyes roaming over her face and body. “I want you to sing for me, little dove,” he crooned, taking her hand in his. “I’ve the skilled hands of a thief and the strength of a barbarian...care to take a ride?”

Aerlith yanked her hand away, standing unsteadily and staring down at him. She swallowed her nerves and said, “I am not your little dove , Thrynn. I am a Nightingale, an agent of Nocturnal. And believe me,” she said, her words pure venomous threat, “I am more than capable of making you sing for me.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger, staring at him pointedly.

Thrynn stood and pulled her to him, his hands tight on her waist. His eyes burned with desire. “That’s the fire I love about you,” he said roughly. Before she could react, he pressed his mouth hungrily to hers.

Panic took hold of her, and she tried to wrench away, but he was too strong for her. Desperately, she fumbled for her dagger, drew it, and stabbed it mercilessly into his thigh. Thrynn howled and released her. Aerlith pulled her dagger back and brandished it, sinking into her fighting stance.

“Little bitch,” Thrynn spat. He reached for his battle axe.

“Enough,” Delvin said, stepping between Aerlith and Thrynn. “Calm down the lot of you.” He looked over his shoulder at Aerlith. “All right?” She nodded. “Good. Now, get yer hackles down Thrynn, before I gut you like a fish.”

Thrynn looked from her and back to Delvin. The tavern had gone quiet. Aerlith did not turn around, but from Thrynn’s mild panic, she could tell the thieves were watching the scene with little love for the bandit. “Fuck you,” Thrynn spat at Delvin, and turned to leave the Flagon from the front entrance. The door slammed behind him.

Aerlith breathed out, slow and steady. She grabbed a linen from the table and wiped her dagger on it, sliding it back into the sheathe. Karliah appeared at her shoulder. “Are you alright, Arielle?” she said with concern.

“Fine,” Aerlith said, anger still coursing through her. “That bastard deserved it.”

“He did indeed,” Karliah said, a smile curling her lips. Around them, the thieves returned to their drinks, and conversation began to buzz again.

“I need a drink,” Aerlith said, beginning to relax again.

“It’s on me,” Karliah laughed and headed to the bar to procure another bottle.

Aerlith sat with Karliah, watching her guildmates fraternize and drink. Delvin brought out his lute, and Dirge his drum, and the two began playing a lively tune. Tonilia got up and started to dance, her lithe body and agile feet drawing the eyes of every man in the room. Aerlith’s eyes drifted to the bar, where she saw Brynjolf sitting the wrong way round on his stool, leaning back on the bar as he watched Tonilia dance, smiling and occasionally sipping his drink.

He is so handsome , Aerlith mused. Brynjolf had shiny long hair the color of garnet, which set off the color of his deep set green eyes. But it wasn’t his appearance as much as his personality that made him stand out. He had a habit of catching her off guard with a sly look in his eyes, saying her name with his lilting accent, catching her in a daydream when she was supposed to be learning lockpicking. She would snap out of her trance and meet his eyes, and get lost again for a moment before smiling apologetically and telling him to continue with his teaching.

All the lifesaving lessons he taught were sorely needed. After her family went missing, she arrived in Skyrim and became a ward of the old Jarl of Falkreath, the suspicious and feeble Dengeir. Her mother had a cousin who worked in the longhouse, so Aerlith was allowed to live there in return for working in the kitchen and cleaning up after the Jarl’s family. She didn’t hate it there, but when Dengeir’s nephew Siddgeir assumed the throne, the trouble began. Siddgeir took an unhealthy interest in his ward, resulting in the terrifying night he had confronted her in her room. Worse, once he had his fun, he threw Aerlith cruelly out into the street, claiming that she was a liability he couldn’t afford any longer. He may very well have been correct, but without his protection, Aerlith was a sitting duck.

The day two strangers came through Falkreath asking after a pale haired girl with silver eyes, she fled with her few possessions and never looked back. Aerlith didn’t adjust well to life on the run. She arrived in Riverwood hungry, filthy and tired, and nearly collapsed on the porch of the inn. She had enough money to pay her way, but being a weak young lady with riches and no protection, she soon lost half her purse to a sneak thief in the night. Desperate, she moved on from Riverwood to Whiterun, with shallow hope that she would find sanctuary at the Temple of Kynareth.

Lost in reverie, she realized she was still staring at Brynjolf. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so she turned back to her bottle, attempting to drown out her thoughts with the intoxicating liquid. Karliah regarded her, sipping from her own cup. “Something on your mind, friend?”

“That business with Thrynn took me back to a different time,” she said, her face hard. “I haven’t always been as good with a blade.” Aerlith wanted to unburden herself and share her troubles with Karliah, but she couldn’t risk it. From Falkreath to Riften, she was hunted by various heavily armed strangers. She suspected they were the same men who took her parents away, come to finish the job. Telling her story to anyone was foolish and could possibly bring harm to them.

Karliah smiled sadly. “Being a woman in Skyrim is tough. But you are strong and worth their respect,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the gathered guild. “It is good that you remind them now and then.”

Aerlith grinned. Though Karliah knew nothing of her past, Aerlith always felt that her friend understood her perfectly. It was a comfort beyond measure. “At least I have you, my friend. I couldn’t ask for a better sister in darkness.”

The dark elf laughed and patted her hand. “I’m off to bed,” she said, standing. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Aerlith nodded at the familiar send off.

“Good night.”

Some time later, when the music had ceased and most guild members had stumbled off to bed, Aerlith tipped the bottle into her cup once more, only to be disappointed when nothing poured out. She sighed and leaned over the table, contemplating throwing in the towel and going to bed. Questing in the interest of the guild was great and noble, but it definitely didn’t make her rich. She tiredly imagined how many jobs she would have to take on before she made up for all the traveling expenses.

While she was lost in thought, Brynjolf came over silently and plunked a full bottle of wine on her table, making her jump a bit. “You shouldn’t have an empty cup, lass,” He said, looking down at her with playful eyes and a warm smile.

Aerlith nodded her approval and reached for the bottle. She noted that Brynjolf also looked pretty deep in his cups. His cheeks were reddened and his eyes were extra shiny.

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking a sip and offering him the bottle when he sat opposite her. He poured out a cup for himself, then looked at her for a moment.

“I never got to thank you properly earlier,” he said.

Her heart swelled, but she kept her voice even as she said, “I got all the thanks necessary from Lady Nocturnal herself.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” he laughed. “But truly, without your help, the guild would still be under the thumb of Mercer and suffering from a daedra’s displeasure.” He looked at her seriously, and she felt herself beginning to blush. “I’m very glad I chose to scam you of all the people in the city that day,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Aerlith took a swig of wine to cool herself. Feeling vulnerable, she spoke quietly, “If you hadn’t tried to rob me, I never would have joined the guild, and would have wandered alone forever.” She chanced a look up at him. “All the skills you’ve taught me have saved my life countless times already. Performing this task for the guild was nothing in comparison to what I’ve received.” Saying it felt right, but Aerlith thought Brynjolf would laugh at her sincerity as he usually did.

He surprised her by reaching across the table and grasping her hand tightly in his. His grip was warm, his calloused fingers rough as they held hers fast. “Don’t be silly. You’ve accomplished something great, and I’m proud of you, Arielle.” He stared intensely into her eyes, burning her with the heat of his conviction.

She pulled her hand back and took another long drink from her cup. She grinned at him. “It’s a strange thing, hearing a thief speak so earnestly,” she joked, trying to dispel the tension she felt.

“As I said, I’m not one for sincerity. Enjoy it while it lasts, lass.” She relaxed a bit, knowing that the hard part was over. “Now, about that bandit,” he said, looking at her smugly.

“What about him?” She asked, twisting the silver ring on her right hand repetitively. Maybe the ‘hard part’ would never really be over with Bryn.

“I enjoy seeing Thrynn being put in his place. Well done indeed, Arielle,” he replied, a sly smile playing over his lips.

Oh. He saw that . Shame burned a blush in her cheeks. She didn’t like to imagine what Brynjolf must have thought, seeing her with him. The memory of Thrynn’s hands on her felt dirty. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said, looking down. “I did what had to be done.”

“And did it well,” he said gently. Aerlith raised her eyes to his. Brynjolf smiled. “Chin up, lass. That bastard couldn’t best you if he trained for a hundred years.”

A poignant feeling of relief and sadness stung her. Aerlith fought back tears, disguising her pain by gulping deeply from her cup. She wanted to say something, but her thoughts were scattered. Her mind’s eye kept flashing to Thrynn’s face, his mouth stealing hers, his hands gripping her painfully. Siddgeir slid into her thoughts too, clouding her vision with fear and shame. She breathed out shakily, carefully training her gaze into her cup.

“Arielle? Are you alright?” His chair scraped the floor as he stood, coming up close beside her. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

Finally, she looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she said, voice breaking. She felt tears begin to fall and blushed, looking down again. Brynjolf knelt down and leveled with her gaze.

Tentatively, his eyes searching hers, he reached up and touched her cheek. His thumb brushed a tear away, and she inhaled shakily, unsure of how to react to his touch. “It’s all right, lass. Whatever the trouble is, we can make it right,” he said slowly.

“I can’t shake them, Brynjolf,” she said, trying to speak through the sob choking her. “No matter where I go.” She hung her head again, resting it in his palm. “I will never be free from my past,” she concluded, and despair overwhelmed her. She cried softly in front of him, hating herself and hating her weakness. But she was tired, so very tired, and his kindness had opened a floodgate within her.

For a horrible moment, Brynjolf stayed very still, and she dreaded his reaction. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took her hands in his and pulled her to him, carefully encircling her in a gentle embrace. “All right, Arielle. It’s all right,” he whispered. He stroked her hair, letting her ride out the sadness. Finally, her crying quieted into sniffles, and she felt him pull her tighter to him “That’s it, lass.” He pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

Aerlith tried to calm her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut as visions of the past threatened to take her over again. With her head pressed against his chest, Aerlith could hear Brynjolf’s heartbeat. The steady rhythm pulled her focus back to the present. Gradually, she felt herself coming down to earth as her breathing slowed and her thoughts cleared.

Reality rushed back in like frigid water, a cruel reminder of who she was, who he was, and where they were. Aerlith pulled away from Brynjolf quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head. “I should go.” She nodded to him and tried to make a hasty exit.

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed her arm. Aerlith didn’t look at him. She couldn't. “I’m worried about you, Arielle. Can’t I help you?” The worried kindness in his voice almost made her break again.

Aerlith steeled herself. Turning to her mentor and smiling brightly, she said, “Nothing’s much wrong, Bryn.” His brow furrowed as he watched her skeptically. “I’m just very, very tired, and I think I’ve had too much wine. I’m sorry to make a scene.”

“Alright, lass, if that’s really how you feel.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then pulled her into him again, wrapping her in his arms tightly. He held her silently for a long moment. Aerlith listened to his heartbeat again, wishing she could hear it forever. I broke so easily for him , she thought, squeezing her eyes closed. Wrapped up in his warmth, she realized that for the first time in a very long time, she felt totally safe. Safe enough that the iron doors of her resolve cracked open, revealing the vulnerability and fear within. The revelation scared her, but she didn’t pull away this time. She breathed him in. His scent was leather, wine, smoke, and just a hint of sweat. Eyes closed, she let him lull her into a state of serenity.

Finally, he held her out at arms length. “Get some rest then,” he said, smiling gently. Before she could move, he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, lingering there. Aerlith's eyes widened in surprise. So many invisible lines had been crossed tonight, but what truly surprised her was how right it all felt. Brynjolf took a deep breath and pulled away, blowing it out slowly as he stared at her. The look in his eyes confounded her. It was a cross between tenderness and fiery determination, with a touch of  heated aggression that made her breath catch in her chest.

Aerlith smiled. “Thank you, Bryn,” she whispered. He nodded, his eyes still burning with that mysterious energy. “Good night, then.” Aerlith walked off to bed, praying to the divines that it hadn’t been a dream.

[yivohn]

STATS :  ship prompts / always accepting!

@nxthero sent a courier :       Val x Brynjolf 

It was late in Riften, the soft moonglow of Secunda and Masser washing over the golden city, painting it hues of dimly lit orange and purple. Its streets still populated with late night beggars and guardsmen, even darkly leathered thieves prowling in the shadows that were cast by rustic buildings of cobblestone. Patrons still filtered out from the Bee And Barb, ambling slowly back to their homes with cautious eyes on the look out for greedy, reaching, thieving fingers.

Beneath the earth too slumbered the City of Thieves, guildmates retiring for the night after downing their last bottle of mead. Stories were exchanged and games already played— now, it was time to rest, and gradually a peaceful silence came over the Cistern.

But as thieves began to settle for the night, the Guild’s Master was feeling restless. 

Brynjolf had only just pulled himself away from Mercer’s— no, from his desk, papers scattered every which way. Leadership of the guild was as complicated as he thought it would be with the influx of business and literal luck; there were a dozen different letters to sign off on for every hold, and it was up to him to make sure everything went off without a hitch. The responsibility had yet to grow on him, though he was becoming used to it.

What was hard to adjust to though was the notable absence at his side. He had Karliah, sure, but it wasn’t quite the same— not that he could seem to get that woman to leave the Nightingale Hall for any longer than an hour at a time. He understood, though; she preferred the peace and quiet that the Guild was no longer beginning to offer. Indeed, the Cistern and the Flagon only seemed busier by the day. But even so— the seat at the head of the table was oddly lonely. Especially without her.

Without Val. 

No matter how busy the Guild was nowadays, it seemed almost quiet without her. Delvin would agree with him, of that he was sure  —— Valvossa was, truly, one of a kind. Her skill was unmatched, her luck uncanny— and he'd never known such a disaster of a person in all his life. Keeping her in check had kept his hands full until the mantle of Guildmaster was passed onto him.

He wondered where she was now, and who was keeping her in check this time.

As he stepped through the halls leading to his room — it was a personal room, now; that also took some getting used to — his hands lifted, nimble fingers beginning to unbutton blackened leathers. Brynjolf's eyes were unfocused, mind elsewhere as he moved, so distracted he hardly noticed the figure that was already waiting for him, in a re-locked room, unassuming.

As he drew closer, though, the view sharpened, and he quickly realized he was laying eyes upon the very subject of his thoughts. Yes, oddly enough, it was her, standing there in his room. So odd was it that he hesitated, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before the hand dropped. 

It was her. Valvossa, the woman he had scarcely seen since she began her journey as the Dragonborn — something that in itself was a hard concept for him to grasp — and it had been weeks, months.. 

“ Val? ”  He spoke almost warily, as if sure he was speaking to a figment of his imagination rather than a real person.

But she was there. She stood not in the heavy armor that had become so typical of her, but rather in a simple leather and chitin outfit, the sort she normally donned before visiting Raven Rock. Brynjolf wondered if that was where she came from, but before he could ask, she spoke aloud;

“ Brynjolf… ”  Her voice had a distinct warble to it, the tone she normally took before she started to cry— something he wasn't unfamiliar to. Equally as familiar to him, Valvossa brought her hands up and wrung them in a nervous, upset gesture.   “ Brynjolf, I-- I'm sorry for not visiting, I just… ”

Brynjolf's hands dropped from his leathers, his jack half unbuttoned. He approached her, closer until they were but a few steps apart.

“ Slow down, lass. I understand, you know that. ...What's wrong? ”

Valvossa took a shallow inhale, and looked up at him through eyes that glimmered with tears. There was a pang in his chest, the same he always felt when he listened to her cry. But this had nothing to do with lycanthropy— he didn't know why, but he knew it. She took a slow, shuddering breath.

“ I-I released a monster.. from a stone in Raven Rock. And my father— he— ” Valvossa cut off, voice hitching as a hand fluttered to her mouth, shaking as she spoke, voice wavering, “ Brynjolf, he's dead. It's m-my fault. He's dead. ”

He never knew the man personally. But he knew enough about him through Val to hesitate in shock; there was perhaps nobody closer to her than her own father. The way she talked about that man sometimes made him almost envious that he had such a relationship with his own. Tervaryn Llervuin was Val’s rock in everything, and with him gone... Brynjolf could feel his expression slacken in shock, but his normally silver tongue dried in his mouth. What was there to say? Very little, but--

“Val... I’m so sorry.” He stepped closer to her, and extended his arms.

It was all the invitation she needed before throwing herself into them, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging onto him with a hug so tight he couldn’t help but wheeze. It loosened gradually, though, and the dunmer buried her face against his chest — which was bare, he noticed with a pang of sheepishness. Whatever the case, she didn’t seem to care, content and burying herself within his hold, grasping onto him as if he were her lifeline. 

And for the moment, he might as well have been. For the time being, he was her light in the abyss. 

He wanted to tell her a dozen things, then. It’s not your fault. I know you try to save everybody. It’s just how you are. He wanted to speak, but it was all he could do but to hold her in silence as her shoulders began to shudder with shallow, quiet sobs.

They stood that way until she lapsed back into silence, and when she finally spoke again, her voice was still thick with emotion, but quiet and raspy;

“ Stay with me. ”

Brynjolf angled his head, and buried his nose into a tangled mane of brunette. 

“Always.”

[eeveevie]

"Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move" for your pairing of choice

Mara Finds a Way

I took a different approach to this and set it during their relationship, but still involves the two taking the next big step and being afraid to. 

from this list

Brynjolf x F!Dragonborn (Fiona)

1600 words (under a cut) | Ao3

“Looking for our lovely Guildmaster?”

It wasn’t the first thought that crossed Brynjolf’s mindwhen he entered the Ragged Flaggon that afternoon. He knew Fiona had traveledto Rorikstead on some small matter, but Guild business had kept him in Riften—afew days apart didn’t concern him like it did in the early days of theirrelationship. While he still accompanied her on most journeys, it wasn’t unusualfor him to occasionally stay behind.

His younger self might balk at how domesticated he’dbecome with Fiona in the recent years they’d shared together, transforming theGuild and building a life together in Riften. But he was a changed man and hewouldn’t have it any other way if it meant coming back to a prosperous Guildand home to the lass.

Brynjolf joined Delvin at his usual table with a shake ofhis head. “I know she’s working,” he explained. “I don’t need to know where sheis all the time.”

“Cute,” Delvin replied, pausing to sip at his tankard ofale. “Could’ve sworn I heard word about her arriving back in the city just now.”

Brynjolf raised a brow, wondering what his friend was tryingto imply. “And?”

“Right Vex? She was over at the temple of Mara?”

“The temple—” Brynjolf nearly choked on his ale.

For all the time he knew Fiona, she had never stepped footinside the temple. She had always shown an indifference to Maramal and the priest’ssermons at the Bee and Barb, so what had changed? What in Gods name was shedoing there? Perhaps it was a simple favor? It had to be. His heartraced and gut clenched when he thought that it could be something else.

He shot a glance over to where Vex was leaning at the soundof her snickering, to which she offered a shrug. “I don’t know what to say,Bryn. Looks like the boss is looking to tie you down.”

“Don’t—” Brynjolf swallowed the lump in his throat, unsureas to why he was suddenly so anxious. He was madly in love with Fiona—had beenfor years, perhaps longer than he cared to admit—but marriage? That wasterrifying. Even if he wanted to entertain the idea, the thought of asking hernearly made him faint.

Instead of laughing like Brynjolf expected, Delvin looked athim with a mix of confusion and concern. “You know, we’ve all been figuring youtwo would’ve gotten around to marrying by now,” he said with a smirk. “Evenwith you being you.”

Ignoring his friend’s comment, he ran a hand through hishair before pressing his palm against his forehead in thought. He hadbrought it up to Fiona once, earlier in their relationship, but it was such anoff-handed remark. Fiona had been betrothed once, when she was much younger,but had gotten out of it by simply running away. Brynjolf had asked if shewould ever consider marriage again—hardly a proposal, but after her cageyreaction and flustered response, he decided not to bring it up again. Brynjolfresided to believe that their dynamic was perfect the way it was. No amulet orring or blessing from Mara would change that—right?

“Do you want to marry Fiona?” Delvin asked whenBrynjolf remained silent, stuck in his own thoughts.

“It’s not that easy,” he replied.

“Bah!” Delvin replied, slapping his hand on the table. “Bryn,you two are insufferable. Both of you are Nords, this shit istraditional, right? Just grab one of those fancy amulets and ask her if she’sinterested!”

Brynjolf looked at him flatly. Nothing in hisrelationship with Fiona had been traditional. And while he considered himself aconfident man, he was suddenly overcome with doubts he hadn’t felt since theyhad first become committed to one another, when he first learned she was theDragonborn and was nearly immortal. What if he wasn’t good enough to be herhusband?

As if Delvin could read his thoughts, he grinned.“Don’t doubt Fiona’s love for you. Just go see for yourself.”

Fiona made sure to change before going back to the temple,remembering how displeased Dinya had looked when seeing her Nightingale armor.It didn’t matter that Fiona was helping Maramal and the temple with a favor, orthat she was the Dragonborn, she needed to show Mara respect. And so, whenFiona arrived that afternoon after returning from Rorikstead, she made sure toswap her dark adventuring clothes for a more modest blue dress with a whitebodice.

Dinya was sweeping near the altar, pausing when she noticed herarrival. For once the priestess offered a more generous smile, eyes glancingover Fiona’s attire as she approached.

“Were you able to reunite them?” Dinya asked.

Fiona nodded, thinking of the spirits she witnessed in theopen glen. “Yes. It was a…remarkable experience.”

Before either could continue, the front doors to the templeopened. They both turned, and while Fiona expected to see Maramal, she wassurprised instead to see Brynjolf. He idled in the doorway, glancing every-whichway for several seconds before finally settling his gaze on her. He seemed stoic,pensive, and incredibly uncomfortable—clearly this was the last place hewanted to be. But then why had he come? And who had told him she was here inthe first place? For once she was disappointed in the footpads’ keenobservation of the city’s operations; if she had any idea it would mean theywould be spying on her dealings. Before she could ask him why she wasthere, Maramal made his appearance from a backroom.

“Ah! Visitors! And the Dragonborn no less,” he exclaimed.“Fiona and…” he paused, waiting for Brynjolf to reluctantly step forward towhere they were grouped near the front altar. “Brynjolf. I must say that whileI don’t necessarily agree, your organization surely has helped our cityprosper.”

“Right.”

Fiona offered a supportive smile, but faltered when shenoticed Brynjolf’s furrowed, anxious brow.

“My lovely Dinya tells me that you have completed animportant task,” Maramal continued, fixing his attention towards Fiona instead.“Uniting loved ones and spreading Mara’s blessing across Skyrim.”

Fiona flushed as she felt Brynjolf’s eyes on her—she’d haveto explain in detail exactly what she did for Maramal and Dinya later,as like any priest, his dramatic flair dared to stretch the truth.

“You’ve been so kind to the people here,” Fiona explained. “Itwas the least I could do.”

A warmth came over her as she pulled the amulet from herpocket, revealing it to Dinya. Out of the corner of her eye she swore she sawBrynjolf’s face grow paler. She understood the implications of what carryingaround an amulet of Mara could mean, especially if one was a Nord—doublyso if one was already in a committed relationship.

It wasn’t that marriage hadn’t crossed her mind—Divines,she walked past the temple everyday on her way to the Cistern! Her past wasn’tunknown to Brynjolf, but she had never seriously thought her life would end upon this sort of path. She was the Guildmaster, Dovahkiin, had so manyresponsibilities—and yet she was more afraid of asking about marriage thanshouting down a dragon from the sky. She wanted to be with Brynjolf, perhapsfor the rest of her life, but every once in a while a small voice of doubtquestioned if he wanted the same.

“This belongs to you,” she said meekly, praying the elfwould take it. Instead, the other woman placed both hands over hers, coveringthe amulet. A soft glow emitted from her hands and warmth ran up Fiona’s armfor a few moments.

“No,” Dinya answered, pulling her hands away. “The amulet isyours.”

Fiona was at a loss for words, knowing she had enchanted itspecifically for her use. Instinctually, she looked to Brynjolf, her heart skippinga beat when she found he was already staring back, those dark green eyes of hisjust baring into her soul.

“We are blessed to have your protection, Dragonborn,” Maramalspoke, calling her attention back. “You once told me that you were born underthe sign of the Lover, like my beloved Dinya.”

The priest eyed the two of them with a small, knowing smile.“You are a lucky man, Brynjolf, to have a woman born under the sign of theLover. They are women of grace and passion, but not of much patience.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow, before feeling her cheeks grow hotas he glanced to the amulet then directly at Brynjolf. As embarrassed as shefelt, she could only imagine how he was feeling in the moment. Dideveryone scrutinize them in this way?  

“Perhaps one day, you will be lucky to have her as yourwife,” Dinya finished.

Fiona was about to against that Lover sign and reprimandthem but froze when Brynjolf’s hand reached out to wrap around her own. She stareddown at their grasped hands before looking up at his expression—it was stillshaky, but a little less petrified than before.

“Aye,” he answered. “Perhaps one day.”

Fiona blinked, speechless.

Outside the temple, she inspected the amulet’s glow under thesunset’s glow.

Brynjolf squeezed her hand, stepping closer to her. “Whatare you going to do with it, lass?” he asked.

“Keep it somewhere safe, for now,” she explained—they both stillneeded time. She tightened her grip on his hand, threading their fingerstogether as they walked leisurely back towards the Cistern. “I might need itone day.”

[seigephoenix]

Condensed Ship List

I am making a comprehensive list of all the ships I ship with all the fandoms I am in.  I will typically write for these pairings, as well. There are some ships I will never get behind, at all.  Those are fairly straight forward.  I won’t ever get behind a pairing that makes a gay character bi or straight without ANY canon evidence to back it up.  Example: Gil x SisRyder.  I also will not ship underage characters with adult characters.  Nope.  XXXXXX Never gonna happen.  Now I’m not comfortable with the whole tentacle thing from hentai, but I could give it a darn good try so long as it’s not an underage character.  

I’m putting the fandoms and ships under the cut cause it’s long and extensive.  I’ll probably write for these pairings.  If it’s a video game protagonist and there is only a family name (like Ryder/Shepard) I usually just insert generic first names.  Unless I want to use my character.

Mostly this is just for my reference too.

Fandoms

Sailor Moon/Sailor Moon Crystal (I warned you I was old)

Usagi/Mamoru Inner Scouts/Knights

Fairy Tail

Nalu Gruvia Gajevy Mira/Laxus Laxus/Freed Evergreen/Elfmann Lucy/Grey Gajeel/Juvia (strictly as a friends ship, I want this to be my brotp) Leon/Juvia (a guilty pleasure ship) Jerza Erza/Mira (so sue me)

Yuri on Ice!!!

Yuri Katsuki/Viktor Emile/Michele Chris/Viktor (before Viktor meets Yuri of course)

Fallout 4

Sole Survivor/Preston Sole Survivor/Danse Sole Survivor/Piper Sole Survivor/Cait Sole Survivor/Hancock Sole Survivor/Deacon Sole Survivor/Sturges Preston/Sturges (Haven’t played NukaWorld so I’m neutral on Gage as a potential romance partner)

Skyrim

Dragonborn/any romanceable Companion Dragonborn/Brynjolf (his accent) Dragonborn/Ormund Dragonborn/Ysolda Dragonborn/Carlotta Dragonborn/Vex Dragonborn/Mercurio I’m open as long as I know the NPC/companion

Mass Effect ½/3

F!Shepard/Kaiden F!Shepard/Liara F!Shepard/Garrus (My OTP of the entire fandom really) F!Shepard/Jacob (it was a sweet ship for 2) F!Shepard/Thane (though I’m crap with writing drell anatomy) F!Shepard/Traynor F!Shepard/Aria M!Shepard/Liara M!Shepard/Kaiden M!Shepard/Tali M!Shepard/Cortez M!Shepard/Garrus (BROTP) M!Shepard/Jack

Mass Effect: Andromeda

F!Ryder/Liam F!Ryder/Reyes F!Ryder/Kandros F!Ryder/Suvi F!Ryder/Peebee F!Ryder/Vetra F!Ryder/Jaal M!Ryder/Gil M!Ryder/Reyes M!Ryder/Cora M!Ryder/Peebee M!Ryder/Kandros (Kandros hasn’t an established sexuality yet, so I play flexible with it)

Dragon Age: Origins

F!Warden (any origin)/Alistair Warden(M/F)/Zevran M!Warden/Morrigan Warden (M/F)/Lelianna (though I lean more towards F!Warden with her)

Dragon Age II

I ship them all.  M/F Hawke with all romanceable companions.

Dragon Age Inquisition

F!Inquisitor/Cullen (I like headcanon that a Qunari Inquisitor can bring Cullen around eventually but I’ve been reluctant to write it) Inquisitor/Iron Bull F!Lavellan/Solas (the angst, oh dear divines, the angst) Inquisitor/Josie F!Qunari/Sera (just my OTP, I’m open to other female Inquisitors) F!Inquisitor/Blackwall M!Inquisitor/Cassandra (my OTP is human Inquisitor, but as always, I’m open to all races) Inquisitor/Harding M!Inquisitor/Dorian F!Inquisitor/Dorian (AS my BROTP for Inqusiition, imagine the gossip that could go down with Trevelyan)

Witcher ½/3

Geralt/Yennifer Geralt/Triss

Final Fantasy VII (This is the only one I truly have a decent grasp of the personalities for)

Cloud/Tifa Aerith/Zack

RWBY (I won’t write smut for this fandom unless it involves the adult characters.  Call it a character flaw but they are considered underage in their universe)

Yang/Blake Ruby/Weiss Weiss/Blake Qrow/Winter Blake/Sun Ruby/Sun Neptune/Sun Neptune/Weiss (as a non-toxic relationship)

D&D/Pathfinder (I am completely open to this fandom, any pairing that can physically work will get a chance)

My BROTP is my PCs. Mira (human cleric of Calistria the goddess of lust, vengeance, and trickery) and Poppi (my gnome alchemist that specializes in bombs).  They have so many shenanigans that I am tempted to write short stories about their adventures.                *They’re wanted in one city because Poppi accidentally created the wrong potion for the mayor and put him into a coma.  Mira wasn’t high enough level to reverse the effects.  So they got the hell out of Dodge.

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Threats & First Meetings PT.2

A Brynjolf x F!Dragonborn Story

Warnings: None Word Count: 1,228

Author’s Note: Wow, so it’s been like eight months since I made PT. 1, so I figured I’d do part two now. Enjoy!

“Well lass, welcome to the family. I'm expecting you to make us a lot of coin, so don't disappoint me."

She snorted at his slight congratulations and looked over at him. “Then prepare to be disappointed because that’s all I am.” Ignoring his cocked eyebrow, she asked, “So, tell me about this job I’m supposed to be doing.”

Brynjolf nodded at her, explaining, “Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm over a ways on the lake. They raise the wretched little things for honey. It's owned by some smart-mouth high elf named Aringoth. We need you to teach him a lesson by burning down three of the estate's hives and clearing out the safe in the main house.”

Curiously, she looked at him. “You mean the place that’s near Merryfair farm?” The auburn-haired Nord nodded at her question and she grunted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well…horse shit. I wish I’d’ve known what you guys wanted from there when I was inside a few days ago.”

He blinked in shock. “Wait, you’ve already been inside Goldenglow?”

Her face warmed and she sunk her neck into her shoulders, murmuring, “I saw the beehives as I was walking along the road. Bees make good alchemic potions when mixed the right ingredients.” She waved a hand, brushing off her excuse. “Anyway, is that all we need from there? The safe contents and three hives burned?” He nodded and she turned, marching off towards the ladder.

He shook his head, calling out to her, “Wait lass! You didn’t even get your armor from Tonilia!”

She raised a hand at him and continued to the ladder, quipping, “Don’t need it. I’ll be back in about two hours.”

           “What about Vex!”

           She spun and added, rather cockily, “Bryn, if I’ve already been inside, why would I go and talk to someone who couldn’t?” Brynjolf’s jaw went slack and she winked before climbing the ladder.

***

 Word of their newest member’s success had spread through the guild like fire on a hillside, or like fire on beehives, but Brynjolf had yet to see her return. He waited patiently, eyes scanning over the documents for the next few shipments they were going to receive, when a bag plopped down on the table in front of him with a wet thunk. He looked up from the pages, eyes going wide with momentary shock that quickly gave way to amusement. The Nord placed the pages down, opening up the damp satchel. “Decide to take a bath while you were there, eh lass?”

He drew his gaze to her, watching as her face pinched with irritation, and she griped, “I didn’t have time to cast an invisibility spell once the hives were on fire. Mercs were swarming the area.”

           “So, you took a dive into the lake to get away. You know there’s a bridge that leads to the island, right?”

She grunted, dropping into the seat across from him, eyes directed up to the ceiling as she lolled her head back. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I was aware of the bridge. Again, mercenaries were crawling out of the woodworks. I didn’t have a lot of options.” Sighing, she looked at him. “Regardless, something bigger is going on than what we’re seeing.” She nodded at the letter he pulled out. “He sold Goldenglow.”

Brynjolf’s green eyes went wide and he glanced down at the letter, reading quickly, muttering, “Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What's that idiot thinking? He has no idea the extent of Maven's fury when she's been cut out of a deal, but I'm certain he'll find out. If only the parchment had the buyer's name instead of this odd symbol. Any idea what that might be?”

She shook her head, propping her feet up on the table, eyeing the other thieves walking around. “Dunno. I just lifted the key and went to the basement.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t even talk to him?”

She hummed, scratching at the oak table. “Nah. I’m pretty sure that even if I did, he wouldn’t give me much. I just got the information and came back.” Eyeing him, she murmured, “I’m sure your sources would have a better chance at getting info than I would.”

He grunted, placing the latter back on the table. “Blast. Well, I'll check my sources and speak to Mercer. But for now, you're off to speak to Maven Black-Briar. She asked for you by name."

Her face pinched again, and she grumbled, “I have to talk to that old hag? For what?”

Brynjolf chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he countered, “That's between you and Maven and I prefer to keep it that way. Don't worry about it. Maven's business dealings usually involve quite a bit of gold for her people."

Scoffing, she reached down and wrung the leftover water from her tavern skirt. “I’m not worried about Maven. She doesn’t even make my top one hundred list of things that worry me.”

He regarded her with a curious, but cautious look as he murmured, “You don’t seem to be afraid of much lass. Even with someone like Maven, who wields the Dark Brotherhood.” She arched an eyebrow, reaching into the bag. One after the other, she tossed letters his way, watching as he opened them and read them silently.

When he was finished, he looked back at her and she declared, “Whoever this Astrid is has sent at least six assassins after me.” She dropped her feet to the floor, leaning over to whisper, “If Maven ever wants me dead, she’d have to do it herself because so far, the Dark Brotherhood is nothing but a group of the worst assassins I’ve ever seen.” Rising, she gathered her things, slinging the satchel over her body. “You’re right about one thing Brynjolf. I’m not afraid of much. In fact, there’s nothing I’m afraid of.” Casting one last glance at him, she advised, “Everything in Tamriel should be more afraid of me.” She sauntered off to the other table, placing down a small bee statue in front of Delvin, beginning to broker a payment for it.

He gazed at her for a moment, watching the way she crossed her arms under her breasts in an effort to distract the thief, then looked back at the notes she’d tossed him. He’d never met Astrid like Delvin had, but he knew her and her sanctuary’s reputation. If his newest guildmate was tough enough to take out six assassins and get into a manor swarming with mercenaries undetected, he needed to do some digging. No one was this good, and as much as he believed in luck, this catch was too lucky for his taste. She moved with a silent grace that stunned him. So many times, she appeared beside him before he could even realize she was there. And he only realized it because she let him. Her stealth was only rivaled by her cockiness in her—no, not cockiness—she wasn’t cocky for the sake of being so. She had the skill to back up her word. He observed her as she grinned at Delvin, pocketing the gold he’d paid her for the statue. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced over, meeting Brynjolf’s. A bolt of understanding flashed between them and she drew her fingers across Delvin’s shoulders as she made her way to the cistern.

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Threats and First Meetings

A Brynjolf X F!Dragonborn One-Shot!

Warning: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence Author’s Note: Congratulations everyone, my hyperfixation has gone from Castlevania back to Skyrim! So guess what type of fics you’ll be getting from now until the next fixation??? YOU GUESSED CORRECTLY!

Her legs ached with each step she took, but she pushed through it, descending the steps into The Ragged Flagon. She took note of the intimidating Nord standing at the walkway, but her rope had become too frayed to even pay any mind to his threat as she crossed over the wooden path. She stopped short of the tables and scanned the dingy bar until she came across the man she’d been looking for. Walking over, she placed her hands on the edge of the table and asked, “You Brynjolf?” The scarlet haired Nord didn’t look up from his cards as he lazily retorted,

           “I might be. And that might depends on what is it you’re after.” She pulled the chair out and plopped down, listening to the scabbard of her dragon sword scrape against the back.

           “I’m looking for an old man named Esbern. He’s in danger and I need to find him before it finds him first.” Finally, he looked up, regarding her with curious green eyes.

           “I’ve heard the rumors of the Dragonborn…bound in the scales of dragons…wielding blades made from their bones...” He paused, gazing at the iron mask she wore. “Wearing a mask taken from the Dragon Priest of Valthume.” She narrowed her eyes behind her mask, but kept her voice level as she said,

           “Glad to know my reputation precedes me.” She scratched a finger in the table, adding, “I didn’t even have time to get back to Riverwood.” Looking at him, she muttered, “The Thalmor are hot on my heels, and if I don’t find Esbern before they do, I’m in trouble. Can you help me?” He chuckled, laying the cards on the table as he reclined in his chair, quipping,

           “Expecting free information, eh? Help me deal with business first, then we'll see how I can help you. Besides, you look like your pockets are a little light on coin, am I right?" She ignored the stab of irritation that soared through her chest and she leaned forward, retorting,

           “Let me find him first. Dragons are bad for business.” Brynjolf hummed.

           “Passing on a golden opportunity is worse." She could feel her eye twitch as the annoyance began melting into something darker, and much worse.

           “I understand you’re probably in need of help, but this is more important.” The Nord shrugged, eyes going back to his cards as he finalized,

           “And I'm busy. You help me out, and I'll help you out. That's just how it is." After almost two months of constant running and fighting across the land, being told what to do over and over, no one listening to what she wanted, and counting the two full days of sprinting from Solitude to Riften, something inside her snapped, and she brought her arm up fast as a thunderbolt, slamming the dragon bone dagger into the table. The sound silenced everyone in the bar and Brynjolf barely had time to look up at her before he was jerked forward by his collar, coming face to face with the iron masked Dragonborn. Fury colored her voice as she hissed,

           “Listen and listen well you thieving bastard. I have been busting my ass ever since finding out I was the Dragonborn. I have poured my sweat, I have poured my blood, and I have poured my tears into making this work. And still it’s not enough. I’m still being jerked around my assholes who don’t think I’m not good enough to be the Dragonborn. Do you know what I do to assholes who think they have the balls to talk shit like that to my face?” He didn’t say anything, and she spat, “I burn the alive with my Thu’um.” She paused, tightening her fingers, and he swallowed thickly. “You know that dragon that was at Helgen? The giant black one? The one who’s raising all the other dragons back from the grave?” He nodded and she snapped, “That was The World Eater.” His green eyes widened. “Alduin has returned and I’m the only one who can stop him. If the Thalmor kill Esbern, then I can’t stop him, and we’re all fucked. So how ‘bout you do me a favor and tell me where he is before I make you.” For a moment, he didn’t say anything, then he murmured,

           “Your guy's hiding out in the Ratway Warrens and paying us good coin for nobody to know about it. Well, until now that is. Tell you what. Go ahead and deal with your business for now. When you're done, find me and we'll deal with mine." Brynjolf pointed to the door leading past the bar, adding, “Thalmor agents went in a few minutes ago.” She let him go, yanking the dagger from the table to shove it back into her belt. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived as she reached behind her and pulled the dragon bone longsword from her back. Pointing it at him, she threatened,

           “If he’s dead, then you’d better start running. Because there isn’t a place between here and Oblivion that can give you safe harbor from me.” She spun on her heel, shoving past the older, bald-headed man, and headed for the door. As she disappeared inside it, the older man sat down beside Brynjolf, wondering,

           “I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you cave like that Bryn.” The auburn headed man hummed, narrowing his eyes as a deafening shout and pained screams echoed behind the closed door.

           “I’ve never been threatened by someone who can breathe fire before Delvin.” He looked over at the older man, a smirk crossing his lips. “But something tells me that she’d going to be back real soon.” Delvin scoffed, a grin playing his lips too as he countered,

           “That woman is going to eat you alive.”

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 20 - Back From the Dead

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild’s reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1,219

A/N: The biweekly updates begin!! I don't know if I'll stick to Monday's or if I need to switch it, but we'll see! Hope y'all enjoy this instalment and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

Brynjolf thought it was a hallucination when he saw Adi walking towards the center of the Cistern - right to where he stood. She had a grin plastered on her face, but Brynjolf noticed the pain behind her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to believe it was her, but the sheer sight wasn’t enough. He needed to touch her, to hold her. He needed her by his side again after the long months they’d spent apart. 

When Adi was close enough, Brynjolf pulled her into his arms with no hesitation. He held her close, wanting the hug to last forever, and didn’t want to let go. Disappointment took over when Adi pulled away, leaning back to study Brynjolf. The Nord had bags under his eyes so dark they looked bruised, he let his stubble grow into a beard, and his long, auburn hair seemed unkempt. His mouth was set into a frown, and his eyes lacked the sparkle of mischief. Adi cupped his cheek in her hand, caressing it gently. He leaned into her touch, a spark of relief showing - though reluctant.

“Adi… is it really you?” he choked out, voice hoarse and hollow. It was hard to believe she was in his arms, even though she looked more alive than Mercer had described. Adi had no new scratches on her that he could see, but the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know: Mercer lied about Karliah killing Adi, and he was the true enemy in their midst. 

“It’s really me,” she breathed out. “I would’ve come back sooner, but-” 

Brynjolf cut her off, crashing his lips against hers in a hurry. He pulled her even closer to him, almost lifting her off the ground, and Adi reciprocated. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss instantaneously. They matched pace, neither of them fully believing they were finally reunited. As one kiss turned into multiple, the thieves had to hold back from going any further. 

Brynjolf barely gave himself time to breathe when they broke apart as he planted kisses all over her face. Adi giggled as he kissed her forehead, temples, and nose, then moved down to her cheeks and jawline before kissing her lips again. 

This time it was gentler as if Brynjolf finally believed his lass was with him once again. Adi smiled against his lips, just happy to finally be home. “I love you-” 

“Brynjolf, we found the- Adi!?” 

Brynjolf and Adi turned to see Delvin and Vex hauling Karliah into the Cistern. The two thieves looked at the half-Breton, utter shock written on their faces, and their grips slackened on Karliah’s arms. She decided to speak before they could misinterpret her involvement with the Dunmer. “Long story short, Mercer lied and tried to kill me. Karliah saved my life.” 

“We have proof of Mercer’s betrayal,” Karliah nodded. She held out the journal to Brynjolf, who stared at it in confusion and looked back at Karliah suspiciously. “This is Gallus’s journal, I think you’ll find its contents disturbing.” 

Brynjolf took it from her and flipped through the pages. Everyone watched as his expression turned from shock to anger in a matter of seconds. “No, it... it can't be. This can't be true. I've known Mercer too long…”

Brynjolf had suspected Mercer was up to something. But this? This was worse than he could have ever imagined. 

“It's true, Brynjolf. Every word.” Karliah was gentle as she spoke. She knew Brynjolf when he was young and felt pity for the Nord. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know the true reason his father died. “Mercer's been stealing from the Guild for years, right under your noses.”

“There's only one way to find out if what the lass says is true.” he handed the journal back to Karliah, then looked at the Breton man in front of him. “Delvin, I'll need you to open the Vault."

“Wait, just a blessed moment, Bryn. What's in that book? What did it say?”

“It says Mercer's been stealing from our vault for years,” he explained. “Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered.”

“How can Mercer open up a vault that needs two keys? It's impossible.” At Delvin’s look, Adi almost mentioned the thing Mercer used to open Snow Veil Sanctum but thought against it. “Could he pick his way in?”

Vex shook her head, arms crossed in disbelief. “That door has the best puzzle locks money can buy. There's no way it can be picked open.”

“He didn't need to pick the lock,” Karliah said. 

“What's she on about?" Delvin asked the room but looked at Adi. 

“I’m not sure, but I did notice Mercer used something to open the entrance to Snow Veil Sanctum and a Nordic puzzle door. It had a blue glow, and he tried his best to shield it from my view.” 

“Use your key on the vault, Delvin.” Brynjolf was already heading towards the vault, giving Karliah no chance to explain. “We'll open it up and find out the truth.”

The anticipation grew with every step towards the vault. Silence filled the spaces between everyone in the Cistern, all watching as Delvin used his key on the vault. To Adi, the tension at that moment was arguably worse than any tension present with Mercer in the room. 

“I've used my key, but the vault's still locked up tighter than a drum.” Delvin looked at Brynjolf. “Now use yours.”

The Nord obliged and swung the door open to reveal a barren room. Every chest was wide open and emptied out completely, there wasn’t a single septim or precious gem left behind. Mercer had taken everything the Guild worked for, forcing them to start from the bottom. Whatever his plan was, he was ready for a fight. 

“By the Eight! It's gone, everything's gone! Get in here, all of you!” Brynjolf looked at the room in utter shock, barely noticing when Adi grasped his hand and squeezed it. 

"The gold, the jewels... it's all gone."

"That son-of-a-bitch! I'll kill him!" Vex whipped out her swords without hesitation, a look in her eyes so murderous that Adi could’ve mistaken her for an assassin. 

"Vex! Put it away... right now.” Brynjolf commanded, raising an eyebrow as she rolled her eyes. She didn’t sheath her weapons right away, already planning his murder. “We can't afford to lose our heads... we need to calm down and focus.”

“Do what he says, Vex.” Delvin backed Brynjolf up. “This isn't helpin' right now.”

“Fine. We do it your way. For now.” She finally sheathed her weapons and straightened up. Her expression said all, the Imperial woman wanting nothing more than Mercer’s head on a pike. 

"Delvin, Vex... watch the Flagon. If you see Mercer, come tell me right away." They all exited the vault, Brynjolf leading Adi to the table next to the vault. 

“What now?”

“You and I go into Riftweald and find out what he’s planning,” he answered, eyes dark. “I wouldn’t doubt that he’s got higher security in the Manor, and Vald may not let either of us in. We’ll need to figure out how to get passed him. But before all this? I need you to tell me everything you learned from Karliah. And lass, I mean everything.”

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 18 - Snow Veil Sanctum

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild's reputation.

Masterlist

CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of mutilated horse

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1, 340

A/N: Another double update today!! For the following two weeks, I won't be posting any chapters, so I can have the time to get into the groove of school. After that, updates will be every two weeks. I want to be able to keep my focus to my classes with the amount of stuff I'm taking on this year, and I want to also ensure quality in the fic chapters. There should be about 35 chapters in total? But I have yet to finish writing it - although I'm almost done. Once I do I'll update that on here :) Hope you enjoy the two chapters today, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

With one final kiss from Brynjolf before she set off with Mercer, Adi mounted Shadowmere and followed the Breton man as they travelled from the Rift to Winterhold. The journey was long and tiring, although the cold wasn’t bothersome to Adi. While she was adorned in the Shrouded Armour - Mercer preferring her to wear those in place of the Guild armour since she’d have a better chance at sneaking up on Karliah - she had mastered using destruction magic to keep herself warm in the cold climate. It was the first thing she learned when at the College. The half-Breton was not used to such extreme conditions. 

Travelling with Mercer wasn’t the most entertaining. Whenever she travelled with a companion - whether it be Brynjolf or Lydia - there was always some sort of conversation to be had. Mercer was quiet, watching out for any trouble at every second. Adi found him almost too paranoid but said nothing on the matter. She was distracted enough by her own thoughts - especially by what Brynjolf had said to her the night before she left. 

“Lass, before you go to bed…”

“What is it?”

“Remember when I told you I found something regarding your lineage?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Your mother wasn’t listed on the Orphanage registry, but I did some digging and found out who she is.”

“What’s her name? Do I already know her?”

“Adi, your mother is Maven Black-Briar.” 

She expected as much, with how much she resembled the woman, but it still came as a shock. Adi spent her life hating the woman with a passion and for everything the Black-Briar’s stood for. Now knowing that Maven was her mother and didn’t want her? The hurt was deeper than anyone could ever imagine. It made Adi upset, of course, but her anger was simmering underneath the surface. If she weren’t careful, it would boil over and cause her to do something she would regret. No… she needed a proper plan to get revenge on the Nord woman. Something that would paint herself as innocent and reveal Maven’s true nature to all of Riften. 

Especially to Jarl Laila.

The Jarl was oblivious to the real problem in Riften - the real corruption. Her closest confidant - the Black-Briar - was the main cause of it all and had an iron grasp on the Hold. If she were to find evidence and take it to Laila, Maven’s life would be in shambles, and Riften could be rebuilt on something better. Maybe, just maybe, even the Jarl could regain her power and reputation. 

“Adranelle,” Mercer snapped her out of her thoughts. “Scout the area and look for potential threats. I’m going to check out the campsite over there and see if there’s anything of value.”

Adi gave him a curt nod and dismounted Shadowmere before dismissing the Steed. She walked the perimeter - careful to stay out of sight of Frost Trolls nearby - and went back to Mercer once she determined it was safe and there were no threats or traps. “You saw her?”

“No,” Adi shook her head. “You?”

“No, but I found her horse,” he said, sneering at the mutilated steed. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of it… she won’t be using it to escape. Let’s get moving. I want to catch her inside while she’s distracted. Take the lead.”

“Understood.” Adi knew better than to argue, despite the underlying suspicion she felt. It seemed like Mercer had something up his sleeve he was unaware about… something to do with her.  

“Just make sure you keep your eyes open. Karliah is as sharp as a blade.” Mercer commanded. The last thing I need is you blundering into a trap and warning her that we’re here.” 

“You chose me for this mission for a reason,” Adi recalled. “Are you really going to start doubting me now?”

“I supposed not,” he grumbled. They reached the gate to the ruins; it clearly locked shut. Adi gestured at it to Mercer, who began to study it closely. 

“They say these ancient Nordic burial mounds are sometimes impenetrable.” He explained, slipping something out of a pocket, keeping Adi from seeing what it was. “This one doesn’t look too difficult. Quite simple, really. I don’t know what the fuss is about these locks. All it takes is a bit of know-how and a lot of skill.” 

He fumbled with the door for a few seconds, shielding the view with his body. Adi craned her neck to try and see the item, only managing to get a glimpse of a light blue glow before he straightened up and slipped it back into his pocket. “That should do it. After you.”

Adi led them through the crypt, sneaking through so quietly the draugr’s were largely undisturbed. Mercer would pipe up every so often to complain or to order Adi around and tell her what to do. It wasn’t until a room with bone chimes that they had finally had to fight a few draugr. 

Mercer pointed out the chimes and promptly told Adi not to blunder into them. She rolled her eyes but weaved through them expertly without touching a single chime. Mercer, on the other hand, was less graceful and managed to hit most of them. Adi readied her silver blade and waited as the draugr smashed through their coffins and attacked her and Mercer. They cut them down in little time, Adi using fire destruction spells on the bones to make sure they were dead. 

The rest of the journey through the crypt was filled with draugr that were already awake. If Mercer weren’t with her, Adi would be able to get passed them undetected with ease. Unfortunately, the Guild Master was ready to attack at any given moment and would charge at them. This caused the assassin to be on guard even more than she usually was, having her weapon and magic ready at any given moment. 

Before entering what seemed to be the final room of draugr’s, Adi stopped Mercer from rushing ahead. She looked at the area and found all their foes up on a platform, away from a door that led into another tunnel. “We need to sneak past to avoid the draugr. Follow my lead, and stay quiet.”

Despite the fact that Mercer was in charge, Adi gave the order and looked at him as if to say, ‘don’t argue with me.’ The Breton merely nodded, jaw tensed from being told to do something by someone inferior to his position. Adi expected to be lectured, but instead, he gestured for her to move ahead. 

Sticking to the walls hidden from the draugr’s view, Adi took careful steps to avoid tipping off her and Mercer’s presence. When they were in a new tunnel and out of sight of the draugr, Adi and Mercer both straightened up and walked to the ever-familiar Nordic puzzle door. “Shoot.”

"Ah, it's one of the infamous Nordic puzzle doors. How quaint.” Mercer snorted, glancing at Adi with annoyance. “Without the matching claw, they're normally impossible to open. And since I'm certain Karliah already did away with it, we're on our own.”

Adi resisted an eyeroll. Why did he feel the need to state the obvious? 

“Fortunately, these doors have a weakness if you know how to exploit it. Quite simple, really. Karliah's close. I'm certain of it. Now let's get moving."

Just like the entrance, Mercer bent down and fiddled with the door. The glow from the item was more prominent in the dimmer lighting, and Adi managed to make out what seemed to be a key. How Mercer managed to get it to open the puzzle door was a mystery, but the Dragonborn thought against saying anything. Instead, she leads them into the next room. 

Before Adi spotted the Dunmer, she felt a sharp pain in her arm followed by dizziness. Unable to keep herself upright, the assassin fell to her side. She fought the poison to stay awake and watched the scene unfold as Karliah came out of her hiding spot and confronted Mercer.

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 22 - Meeting Nocturnal

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild’s reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1,866

A/N: The past two weeks have been absolute hell on my mental health, but I'm here for another update! Hope you enjoy and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

Adi made her way to the standing stone Karliah was waiting at on her own, Brynjolf quickly saying Karliah wanted to discuss something with him in private. The Dunmer, pacing impatiently in front of the stone, stopped and faced Adi when she approached. Brynjolf took place next to Adi, kissing her cheek in greeting. 

“I'm glad you're here.” All business, no play. From her time with Karliah as they made their way back to Riften, that wasn’t a shock to Adi. 

“What's the significance of this place?” she asked, gesturing to the door adjacent to them. 

“This is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey.” Karliah’s words were laced with poison at the mention of Mercer. What he did was unforgivable, and she was out for blood. 

“What kind of an edge?”

“If you'll follow me, I'll try to explain on the way.” 

Karliah led them into Nightingale Hall, patiently answering Adi’s questions and telling the two initiates about the Nightingale Trinity - herself, Mercer, and Gallus. “Brynjolf’s father was a Nightingale as well but hated it. He tried to find a way to unbind himself to Nocturnal. Mercer felt that was reason enough to murder him.”

“My father was sick, not murdered.” Brynjolf snapped, almost too defensively. 

“He was poisoned,” Karliah broke the news, turning around to face him. Pity filled her eyes, she’s had twenty-five years to plan revenge on Mercer for what he had done. Brynjolf has been sheltered from the truth his whole life. The Dunmer could only imagine what he felt at the moment. “Mercer used small doses, made it look like a sickness. He wanted to make sure you wouldn’t notice. I’m sorry, Brynjolf.” 

“I-” Adi grasped his hand and squeezed it, giving the Nord a sense of comfort He would dwell on it later. Right now, he needed to focus on why Karliah brought them here. “That’s a matter for later. Let’s focus on why we’re here.” 

Karliah nodded and moved on, leading them into a larger room. 

“So, this is Nightingale Hall.” Brynjolf looked around in wonder. “I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believed it existed.”

"The assumption that the Nightingales were just a myth was seeded within the Guild on purpose. It helped avert attention from our true nature. What's wrong, Brynjolf? I can almost hear your brow furrowing."

“I'm trying to understand why I'm here, lass.” He said truthfully. “I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?”

“This isn't about religion, Brynjolf... it's business.” That’s how Karliah saw it, anyway. She never felt as though she worshipped Nocturnal. It was more like a transaction. They were partners, and that was it. “This is Nightingale Hall. You're the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside in over a century. Now, if you'll both proceed to the armoury to don your Nightingale Armor, we can begin the Oath.”

“This is enough to make your head spin, eh?” Brynjolf joked with Adi, who agreed. She was already overwhelmed with all this new information, on top of being worried about Brynjolf. She could see it behind the mischievous gleam in his eyes. The news of Mercer’s second murder cut deep. Brynjolf was as ready to murder him as Karliah, if not more. 

As the three of them approached three stones with the Nightingale emblem on them. Adi stood in front of it, unsure of what to do with the stone. “You appear hesitant to don your Nightingale Armour. What’s troubling you?”

“Do we just touch the stone, or…?”’

Karliah chuckled lightly and nodded. Adi turned back to it and, with reluctance, put her hand on the smooth surface. As soon as her fingers brushed it, black tendrils grasped her skin and started to snake up her arm. It formed a fabric that felt unusual on Adi’s skin, melding in with the civilian clothes she wore underneath. Shadows engulfed her vision for a brief moment as the tendrils snaked up her neck and head, the hood and mask making her eyes look like black beads and the world have a purple tinge. As soon as the armour settled into its full form on her body, there was a whispered hiss. 

“Okay, lass. We've got these getups on... now what?” Brynjolf checked Adi out in the armour, not at all being subtle about it. Adi did the same with him, admiring how it fit against his body. The black-as-midnight armour followed the contours of his muscles, making her grateful it covered as much of the face as it did. The last thing Adi needed was for him to see that she was as red as snowberry. 

“Beyond this gate is the first step in becoming a Nightingale.” Karliah walked to a hallway, Brynjolf and Adi following. 

“Woah there, lass. I appreciate the armour, but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed.” Brynjolf stopped in his tracks, the uncertainty radiating off him. Adi didn’t want to say anything, but she felt the same way. Why should they pledge themselves to a Daedric Prince? She knew firsthand that nothing good came from that. 

“To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs,” Karliah explained. She seemed almost… defensive of Nocturnal. “If she's to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck.”

“What sort of arrangement? I need to know the terms.”

“The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf.” Karliah sighed. “Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, both in life and in death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher.”

“Aye, there's always a catch.” there was a pause before he continued. “But at this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose. If it means the end of Mercer Frey, you can count me in.”

“What about you? Are you ready to transact the Oath with Nocturnal?” Karliah turned to Adi. She eyed the half-Breton, almost challenging her. 

“Yes, I'm ready.”

“Good. After I open the gate, please stand on the western circle.” 

Making her way to the gate, Karliah pulled the chain on the right wall and continued on as the spikes retracted. Adi made her way to the western circle, as Karliah requested, and Brynjolf made his way to the Eastern one. Karliah stood in the circle between the two and knelt down in a genuflect. 

“I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow... hear my voice!”

The air in the room changed as something ethereal entered. In the center of the room formed a large ball of light, surrounded by black and blue shadows. The room grew cold as it did with any Daedra but cold with power. Somehow… Nocturnal’s presence wasn’t as intimidating as the others. It felt more like a disappointed parent entered the room. A woman’s voice came from it, mature and indifferent. “Ah, Karliah. I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?”

“My Lady, I've come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure.” She remained in genuflect as she spoke, Karliah sounding disappointed in herself. 

“You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?”

“I have two others that wish to transact the Oath; to serve you both in life and in death.” Karliah herself wasn’t certain that her companions wanted this, but it had to be done. She hoped they wouldn’t speak out against it. 

“You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favour.” While they couldn’t see her corporeal form, Adi could practically hear her thinking. 

“My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my craving for wealth, Your Grace.” 

“Revenge? How interesting…” there was a brief pause, then, “Very well, the conditions are acceptable. You may proceed.”

“Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms.” The Dunmer spoke for everyone, but it wasn’t completely true. Adi and Bryn weren’t at all keen on this deal but had no other choice. “We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honour our agreement in this life and the next until your conditions have been met.”

“Very well. I name your initiates Nightingale, and I restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again.”

Before Karliah could say one more word, Nocturnal’s essence disappeared. The three Nightingales met back in the middle, Karliah stopping to address them both. 

“Now that you've transacted the Oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime,” Karliah revealed how Mercer was able to get through the Vault - and Adi realized that was out they got into Snow Veil. If he had a hold of the key for any longer… it could be catastrophic. “If the Key isn't returned to its lock in the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never be the same for the Guild. As time passed, our luck would diminish to the point of non-existence. And whether you know it or not, our uncanny luck defines our trade.”

“First time I ever set out to return something…” not entirely the truth, but not entirely a lie either. 

"Very true. In our line of work, it's quite rare we set out to return a stolen item to its rightful owner." Karliah laughed. “Now, before we depart, Brynjolf has some business to discuss. I suggest you listen to him.”

“What’s up?” Adi turned to her partner. Karliah began walking away, giving the two some space. 

“It’s about the leadership of the Guild.” he was hesitant. Brynjolf knew Adi wouldn’t be interested, but Karliah insisted. The Dunmer had become quite taken by her, just like everyone else. 

“Bryn, no.” 

“I thought you would say that.”

“Then why ask?”

“Thanks to your efforts, Mercer’s treachery was exposed,” he explained. “Not only that, you’ve been a huge help in rebuilding the guild. After he’s dealt with, we need to find a new Leader. Karliah and I agree that you would be a good fit.”

“I don’t lead, Bryn,” Adi shook her head. “It’s not something I like to do and not something I’m good at. You would be better in that position.”

“I’ve been at this game a long time, love. A long time.” He shook his head. “I’ve stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I’m good at what I do, maybe even one of the best. But it’s all I know. I’ve never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it. Don’t want it.” 

“May I think about it?” Adi sighed. Brynjolf agreed and put a hand on the small of her back as they left Nightingale Hall. Karliah went ahead of them, telling the couple that she wanted to take some time alone to plan their next move. Until they heard word from Vipir and Rune, they had to stay in Riften and sit duck.

[eeveevie]

eeveevie’s fic masterpost (Jan-Feb 2019)

I have written a lot in the last two months, and have been updating quite frequently, sometimes on a daily basis. I wanted to put my 2019 (so far) work in one place, just in case anybody had missed anything for a specific pairing, etc. 

Below is everything I have written from Jan 2019 - Today (3/4/19). 

I plan on doing this weekly from here on out. :)

Dragon Age: 

Alistair Theirin x Evelyn Cousland:

Delayed Departure | 439 words | Prompt: “You don’t have to leave.”

Here With You | 791 words | Prompt: “I can’t imagine being anywhere but here with you.”

Sharing | 493 words |  Prompt: I don’t mind sharing the blankets with you

The One | 725 words |  Prompt: when they lean forward a fraction as if to kiss the other person, then realize they shouldn’t and pull back to stop themselves

Before the Storm | 535 words |  Prompt: a forehead press scene

Morning After | 531 words |  Prompt: butterfly kisses

Unintended | 960 words |  Prompt: “emotional outburst that reveals more than intended”

Close Encounter | 578 words |  Prompt: “the externally enforced proximity”

Adjust | 692 words |  Prompt: One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

Resting | 529 words |  Prompt: Falling asleep together

Warden Drink | 520 words |  Prompt: The way you said "I love you": Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble.

Tables & Forks (AU) | 1401 words |  Prompt: trying to go down on the other, under the table, during dinner.

Emotions | 411 words |  Prompt: "You know, it’s okay to cry"

Decisions | 522 words |  Prompt: “Are you kidding me? We are not ‘fine’”

Convincing | 608 words | Prompt: Fake dating

Cullen Rutherford x Aurelie Trevelyan: 

Herald’s Kiss | 869 words | Prompt: Top of the head kiss

Cold | 411 words | Prompt: “Here take my sweater.”

Advice | 790 words | Prompt: “Oh my god. You’re in love with her.”

Temptation | 502 words |  Prompt: "Purple electricity when our bodies touch"

Again | 792 words |  Prompt: Marriage proposal

Whispers | 480 words |  Prompt: The way you said “I love you”; as a whisper in your ear.

Isabela x Garrett Hawke:

Two Sovereigns | 659 words | Prompt: “I love you.”

For You | 618 words |  Prompt: Caring for each other while ill’

Know Better | 543 words |  Prompt: “Don’t you dare do that again!”

Emotional Stuff | 610 words | Prompt:  post no-good-very-bad-day cuddles

Varric Tethras x Bethany Hawke:

Shadow and Light [6/6 chapters complete] | 30k+ words 

Synopsis: Nothing in Varric’s life ever goes as planned, but he's damn good at improvising with the hand he's dealt. Varric introduces Hawke to the Inquisition, and with Garrett Hawke comes Bethany, much to Varric's surprise. 

Creepy | 342 words | Prompt: “This place is creepy.” 

Cheeky | 677 words | Prompt: “Nothing is wrong with you.”

The Lady Tethras | 887 words | Prompt: “If I don’t say it now, I’ll regret it later.”

The Fear | 716 words | Prompt: “I’ve got you.”

Morning Delight | 1049 words | Mature Content | Prompt: “A all I want to hear is your sweet love sighs”

Best Thing | 993 words |  Prompt: “You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

Why Not Both | 1055 words |  Prompt(s): "when they lean forward a fraction as if to kiss the other person, then realize they shouldn’t and pull back to stop themselves" and "ripping the other away - 'no we shouldn’t' - but when they kiss them again they moan and hold them close."

Warm Hands | 539 words |  Prompt: keeping the other person warm

Flirtatious | 899 words |  Prompt: can’t tell if they’re flirting banter

Knew It | 939 words |  Prompt: emotional outburst that reveals more than intended

Story Ideas | 655 words |  Prompt: One falling asleep with their head in the other's lap.

Privacy | 694 words |  Prompt: leaving hickeys on the other’s neck

Best Choice | 677 words | Prompt:  “All my choices led me to you.”  

Elder Scrolls: Skyrim:

Brynjolf x Fiona (Dragonborn): 

Safe | 567 words | Prompt: “I’ll keep you safe.”

Hideaway | 456 words | Prompt: Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

Fever | 804 words | Prompt: “You’ve got a fever, of course I’m not going anywhere.”

Pretend | 885 words |  Prompt: Let’s pretend we’re married

Betrayal and Forgiveness | 1401 words |  Prompt: breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths 

Predictable | 581 words |  Prompt: “routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing”

Scars | 1425 words |  Prompt: "interrupted almost kiss"

Second Time Around | 1364 words |  Prompt: can’t tell if it’s flirting or banter 

Effortless | 733 words | Prompt: "Wanna dance." and "Damn. You clean up good."

Sound Advice | 699 words | Prompt:The way you said "I love you": loud, so everyone can hear.

Stargazing | 473 words | Prompt: stargazing

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