A/N: DISCLAIMER: *I don't own any of this besides my OCs*
This story takes place about five years before the events in the videogame Skyrim. Brynjolf is five years younger at the beginning of this fanfic, Vex isn't around just yet, and there are many random, originally named characters not mentioned in the game for the sake of populating the story a bit more. I couldn't find any concrete timeline for the Thieves Guild in order to gauge when exactly certain events took place, so I'm just saying that the Gallus and Mercer conflict took place 5 years before the Dragonborn came around. Consider this rather loosely based on the game's TG storyline anyway and don't actually expect the DB to show up, I'm still not sure whether or not I will include them. Anyways, any and all feedback is appreciated, as this is my first Skyrim fanfiction. Thanks for reading :~)
"We're going to die."
"Shut up!"
"We're going to die!"
"Shut up!"
Two elves stood in a clearing, one with a hood who looked absolutely mortified, and the other looking rather mild, even serene. The cowering one kept yanking on the others' cloak like a frightened child, her eyes darting between her friend and the robed Breton convoy that was steadily approaching them. Each mage had their respective staff drawn and approached the women as a daunting unit, their faces almost accusing. The smaller elf began to sweat, and looked hastily over to the other one, wanting desperately for her to have a plan. Instead, the taller elf simply held up her hand, gave a small nod of her head, then started walking calmly away, toward the Bretons. Toward the threat, the smaller one thought, her inner voice just as nervous and quivering as her outer appearance.
"Hello, gentlemen," Karliah called as she approached the men, her lips stretching into a friendly, self-assured smile. The mages halted once they reached her, their staffs gripped in white knuckles, their mouths refusing to mimic the elf's. A few of them looked past her curiously, right at the other elf, who turned her face shyly to the ground and willed them to look away. After a brief moment, one of the mages near the front spoke.
"What is a Dark Elf doing here in High Rock?" he asked nastily, his tone sharpening when he spoke of her race. "Shouldn't you be begging for change in the filthy dregs of Skyrim?" He was tall for a Breton, with dark brown hair held up in a bun and deeply intense eyes. His staff looked angry, twisted branches of shadowy wood embracing a glowing red ball of energy at the top. Karliah ignored his racism and instead eyed the staff, almost anxiously, but swiftly regained composure and widened her smile.
"My friend and I are merely visiting the country, sir," she replied kindly, holding out her open palms and tilting her head. "I am not armed," she said to the man, whose grip on his staff now slackened considerably. This small action reassured Karliah, and she found that she was now grinning. He hadn't searched her; he was a fool and, therefore, easy to convince. "It certainly is a stunning land, after all."
The mage surveyed her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I see," he said, his tone of voice noticeably less severe. "Well," he paused, glancing over his shoulder to his comrades, who were all muttering amongst themselves, some of them with their staffs already stowed safely away at their backs. "I suppose I owe you an apology then, miss." He said this with a hint of annoyance, as if his politeness were a defeat, as if he would've liked nothing better than to annihilate a Dark Elf right there in the open. Karliah held back the urge to spit at his feet, or to assassinate him in front of his friends. "We'll leave you to it," he said briskly, then, nodding to the others, walked straight past her.
The other elf watched them go, her eyes widening in shock, her shoulders drooping with relief. Karliah waited a moment, then returned to her friend. "Mel," she said, cackling. "You really need to get a grip."
Melrae Ganrawyn was a Falmer, and wherever she went, people never let her forget it. Her bright appearance and pale freckles almost made her fit in with the snowy landscape of Skyrim. However, there were always people who might make a comment, reel back in shock, or even question her endlessly about her past as if they were entitled for an answer. Her camouflage, ironically and regrettably, doubled as a parade of rare features shouting for the attention of all. All she wanted was to forget her history, not to relive every minute detail to the point of rage, or tears. When she arrived in that mountainous pleasure of a country, everyone had hounded her for being one of few, an uncommon sight in all the world of Tamriel; all except Karliah, and, of course, the rest of the Thieves Guild. Her family.
Mel poked absently at the fire in front of her with a stick, her eyes glazed over and drooping with exhaustion. Karliah watched from beside her on the log, humming quietly, her hands on her knees. Mel glanced over at her friend, then back down when their eyes met in the firelight. "I miss them," Mel said softly, her words melancholy and heavy. Karliah chewed the inside of her cheek and nodded.
"I know," she said.
"Are we ever going to find him?" Mel asked. She turned to look at Karliah and found that the other elf's eyes were already filling with tears. She reached out to touch Karliah's shoulder. "I'm… I'm sorry," she said. "I keep… forgetting. You—you never told us." She didn't mean for it to sound like an allegation, but it came out with a bit of a bite to it. Karliah always told her everything, but had not once mentioned that she and their guild leader had been fraternizing. It colored their endeavor in a new, tragic way, and Mel had been avoiding the subject for the entire journey, despite the journey revolving entirely around him.
Karliah wiped away her tears, her movements abrupt, disjointed; very much unlike her. "Yes," she replied, ignoring Mel's unintentionally harsh comment. Her voice sounded choked. "Of course we're going to find him, Mel, I'll make sure of it." They both turned away from each other and stared once again into the crackling fire. Mel was about to retire to the tent for the night when Karliah spoke up again. "And if we don't," she said, her voice cold and bitter and utterly heartbroken, "I'll kill whoever did this."
The Ragged Flagon was alive with laughter and light, packed with jovial thieves clanking mugs of mead with their friends and joking animatedly. Melrae felt the air positively glimmering with friendship and energy as she gripped her mug, her body laying heavily against the bar, her face fully flushed, and her swimming eyes resting on a blurry, but familiar face—Brynjolf.
"Lass, ye better not drink yourself into a stupor like last Morndas. We all remember you dancing on this exact bar like a bloody lunatic." He laughed heartily as Mel glared at him before she broke the façade and began giggling madly.
"How could I forget? That was the night I smooched ole' Jinx square on the mouth, then vomited directly on his new boots." She pointed her finger toward the equally drunk Imperial behind them, who noticed her eyes and gave her a playful wiggle of his fingers in response, grinning. He turned away, back to a group of friends, and Brynjolf snorted. "'Course he nabbed 'em from some broad down in the Barb, he can go pilfer another pair if he can't get the smell out," she whispered conspiratorially to her redheaded friend, who promptly shoved her shoulder.
"That idiot's been goin' on and on about how much coin he shelled out for those damn shoes!" Brynjolf said, shaking his head and chuckling, his youthful face glowing as he smiled.
"Well, I'd have thought you'd know better than to think any different, coming from a notorious boaster like him." Mel smirked and downed the remainder of her drink, then pushed it toward Vekel with a waggle of her eyebrows. The large Nord shrugged, smiled at her, and went to refill it. She turned back to Brynjolf, who was watching her with an odd sort of intensity.
"Seems as if he's got a lot to boast about," he said in a whisper. They looked at each other for the briefest of moments before his eyes tore away from hers and he rose up off his stool. She had missed her chance to say anything in response, too busy trying to decode what his comment had meant. "I better be off, got a burglary in Whiterun that I'm not too enthused about. At least I can start the long travel with a warm belly." He brushed his hair out of his face before shooting Melrae a final look, then resting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing. "And I'm serious—lay off the mead tonight, Mel. You'll thank me in the morning." He smiled fondly and departed through the cistern. Mel watched him go, and when Vekel returned with a full mug for her, she hardly even noticed. After a moment, she left the bar too.
Melrae jolted awake, her hair stuck to her clammy forehead and shoulders. Her breath felt like it was running away from her and she was struggling to catch up. Images of shriveled grey skin and glowing fungi still haunted the edges of her sleepy mind and she tried to blink them away. Karliah stirred, then sat up and stared at her, suddenly alert.
"What?" she asked fiercely, leaning forward to peek out of the tent, then returning, looking puzzled. "What happened?"
Mel blinked, then sighed. "I…" she started, her voice faltering, breaking. "I just had a nightmare, is all. About…" she searched for the words, not wanting to bring the trauma back to life, but found that she couldn't lie. "About the caves. About my family."
Karliah's panic immediately drained from her body to be replaced with sympathy, and she reached forward to cup her friend's face in her palms, looking mournful. "I'm sorry," she said, not knowing what else she could offer in terms of reassurance. She had never had to face what Mel had and she never knew how to comfort her when times such as this came about. She let go of Mel's face and looked down, studying her hands in the dawn light.
Mel waved her away, frowning slightly. "It's alright," she said, staring at the canvas of the tent, searching it for answers, or distraction. She found nothing that could take her mind away from her dream and sat there, silently, with Karliah, as the sun rose sluggishly over the horizon.
