Spoilers for the Thieves Guild questline.
"Karliah."
She turned at her name, hesitant but willing, as though she didn't want to but felt that she owed him. And so she did, but she owed him more than a simple answer to her name, a thousand times more.
"Mercer," she acknowledged. His name rolled from her lips like the poison for which she was renowned, dripping like frostbite venom. "What do you want?"
"Am I not allowed to speak to you then?" he asked bitterly. "Are you just going to forget about me, is that it?"
"I—" she began, but stopped. Her violet eyes briefly met his, so lovely and regretful and maddeningly cautious, before darting away. She would not even look at him now. "I'm sorry, Mercer. I didn't mean to hurt you, but things simply can't be like they were."
Because of the old man, because of Gallus, who brought Mercer and Karliah into Nocturnal's fold with promises of unity and good luck, who turned two young thieves into the cleverest of shadows. He called them a trinity, while the entire time he conspired to take Karliah further and further away from him. My Nightingale, he overheard Gallus calling her fondly, as though Mercer did not exist. As though Mercer was not a Nightingale, too. As though he had not loved Karliah first.
She was still looking at him. Perhaps she was waiting for him to say more, but he couldn't think of what to say. Why did he call out to her? It wasn't to apologize for stealing from the Guild, for he wasn't sorry for that, and it wasn't to throw away his pride and beg her to come back. It was clear that she had chosen her path, and it was one she wouldn't walk with Mercer.
His thoughts took him back to the night she told him, those great bright eyes of hers sad but determined. I'm sorry, Mercer. I've fallen in love with Gallus. I wish to be with him. I know you're angry—please don't hate me. We want you to remain a Sentinel, because you're dear to both of us, so if you'll only pay back what you've stolen from the Guild, we can forget about this and seek Nocturnal's forgiveness—
You've what? He would have thought it was a joke, even it wasn't for the solemn expression and the fact Karliah had only the barest sense of humor. But you're mine. You belong to me.
I am no one's belonging, Mercer. And it's because of that possessive personality of yours that we never would have lasted, anyway.
But she was his belonging. Even if she said she was with Gallus, Mercer would never let her go.
You contemptible old man, he thought. The rage was boiling again, swelling up from inside him, prickling like needles under his skin. You liar, you fraud, you dirty cheating thief. You told me you would take care of me, but you've only ever taken from me. You told me it was an honor to champion for Nocturnal, but she doesn't do anything for me. A little extra luck? Who cares? I don't need it, I don't need her. If she had any true power, I never would have been able to take the Skeleton Key. And Karliah, you're the biggest liar of all.
The rage boiled thicker.
So.
They thought to betray him, Gallus and Karliah. The rest of the Thieves Guild would laugh behind his back, knowing she threw him out to become the Guildmaster's pet. And Nocturnal—a useless Daedra, who needed her?
So.
"Never mind," Mercer said. "Forget it."
Karliah blinked. Her confusion was for good reason, perhaps, as he never just let things go. It was his way to wear at something until it gave in.
"Mercer—"
"I said forget it."
And he smiled at her, trying hard to look unsuspicious, but the smile felt sour on his face like curdled milk and he knew all his hatred and broken wounded pride was bared on his face for her to see. She looked disconcerted for the briefest of moments, almost frightened or alarmed. But she just turned away, graceful and cunning as all her movements were, and walked away.
She would discover soon enough that it was dangerous for one to turn her back on Mercer Frey.
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