Brand-Shei notices her at once. Most locals do. Newcomers to Riften weren't uncommon but lone travellers- especially ones carrying so much trade- were easily spotted. She spends the day in the market. She haggles with Madesi and almost gets Grelka to crack a smile. By time she arrives at his stall, Brand-Shei has had plenty of time to rearrange his wares to suit her eye.
She drives a hard bargain. Her tongue is silver, her eyes the colour of a summer sky, and she smiles at him like she means it, so by time she is walking away he is left feeling a little swindled. He double-checks the locks that night.
She returns several times over the next few days. Brand-Shei always knows her by her laugh; it's sudden and explosive, like it even takes her by surprise. It quickly becomes his favourite sound in the market's racket. She tends to stroll around with Mjoll and Aerin, the pair being sure to fill her head with their anti-Guild ramblings. She never goes to the Inn like everyone else. Brand-Shei realises he doesn't know where she sleeps. It isn't the Bee and Barb, or the Temple, or even Beggar's Row. She certainly never comes to the Bunkhouse. Though Haelga's infamous dislike of anyone young, pretty, and female might have something to do with keeping her out.
He resolves to pay more attention. She rarely leaves the market during the day. If she isn't bartering everyone down below their lowest price, she is sitting with one of the beggars, talking. Sometimes she brings food for them, cooked meals and strips of salted meat they can keep for a few days. Marise says she purchases all the old food for them and cooks it herself.
She gets a reputation quickly as a helper. Everything from errands to fetching materials, she is rarely out of a job. Soon, she is spending more and more time out of Riften and in the wilds of Skyrim. Brand-Shei surprises himself with how much he dislikes the days she is gone because it means she was likely in danger. But then she returns and has a bag overflowing with treasures, visibly brimming with exciting tales. She sells the lot with everyone else before she comes to him, the transaction his last for the day. She lingers with him, telling stories of how she acquired each item and he listens dutifully, suitably awed and worried for her at the same time.
-/-
Brand-Shei notices the interest in her. Any available woman- especially someone new and even remotely exciting- gathers quite a bit of it. Whenever she is in the market, Valindor is sure to speak in poetic sentences, comparing her to everything from a flower to the fierce cathay-raht roaming the forests between Valenwood and Elsweyr. Bolli speaks of his Fishery, the money it makes, and wears his finest clothes with a coin purse fit to burst on his hip. Hemming Black-Briar is careful to mention how powerful his mother is and strut around Dryside like he owns the town.
She pays none of them even a hint of attention. Even Tythis, with his famous bawdy flirting, can't get more than a polite smile out of her. Brand-Shei feels a measure of happiness at this. She isn't wooed by charm or wealth or showmanship; just as well, because he has none of that. Even if he is planning to get to know her better. Which he isn't. At all.
But when she swings by his stall with a smile and a handful of mostly worthless junk, he finds his mouth going dry. She smiles and laughs and when he takes a chance to ask her for lunch one day, he is surprised when she says yes. They eat together on the crates beside his stall, and she laughs at the faces he pulls when she offers him spiced wine from Solitude. It isn't bad- just different- and it makes him feel bubbly inside, or maybe that's all her.
She is gone the next few days. Edda asks after her like he should know where she is, and when Brand-Shei can't say, the old beggar woman clicks her tongue in annoyance. She mutters something about the girl being mad about him- Brand-Shei swallows his hope and ignores the comment. He is an old mer and she is a bright young woman with a wonderful future ahead. She doesn't need him in her life.
She returns with treasure as always. This time, she asks if he would eat with her for dinner and when he makes for the inn, she leads him around it. At first he thinks the Bunkhouse, but she takes his hand and opens the door to Honeyside. The interior is sparsely furnished but the fire is lit, two chairs facing it with a table between. She lives alone for now, she explains, but has a housecarl who is due to arrive within the next few days.
Brand-Shei revels in the pride warming his heart when she tells him about dealing with a skooma dealer on the docks and clearing out a smuggling ring. She is the new Thane. She holds the Jarl's esteem and he tells her that he is glad she chose to settle in Riften. Her blue eyes are soft and her hand is warm on his when she thanks him, sincerely, and his heart flips over in response.
This becomes the new routine. They speak for hours in the evenings and he often wakes in her spare bed. The morning routine of waking to her voice and eating breakfast over her table quickly becomes commonplace, comfortable, and sorely missed when she is away. A few weeks into the routine, she gives him a key and tells him to make use of the house as he pleases. She gives him the housecarl's room downstairs, which is rarely used even when they are home. Iona has taken a shine to Balimund the Blacksmith and spends much of her free time in the Scorched Hammer. Soon he can't remember the last time he slept in the Bunkhouse. Haelga is getting jealous.
-/-
She is tired, always tired, but she refuses to deny a job. Brand-Shei worries for how tired she is and resolves never to send her on a quest for his own sake. Her housecarl, Iona, is a small comfort as he knows she has someone watching her back while she is on the road.
For months nothing changes. Brand-Shei lives in Honeyside, she comes and goes with Iona whenever she pleases. It all seems too good to last and, as is the harshness of life in Skyrim, the happiness comes tumbling down with devastating consequences. She accepts a job out near Ivarstead, something about clearing out an old crypt. Nothing she hasn't done before. Brand-Shei sends her off with the usual be careful, as he always does, and tries to ignore the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.
A week crawls by with no sign. He tries not to worry, but the knot in his stomach grows bigger with each day she isn't home. He misses her, he'll admit to himself and no-one else.
When she returns, pale and haggard and limping, she makes a beeline for him. She doesn't stop to barter, or chat, just walks straight behind his stall and wraps her arms around him. He feels her bones under his hands and his heart breaks. It shatters when she sobs and hugs him tighter. Brand-Shei shuts the stall and takes her home.
Two days later, he stands with her when her housecarl is brought home on the carriage. Iona- a stern Nord who became more a friend than housecarl- is carried to the Hall of the Dead and laid to rest.
She doesn't speak much until they've eaten the stew and drank a bottle of wine. He asks if she wants to talk about it. She says no and poured him another generous glass of wine. He speaks of happy things and soon she is smiling again, even if her eyes are ringed with sadness still.
By time the wine is gone, and she is slipping onto his lap, he is too far gone to stop her. He hears himself asking why me and she sighs softly, fondly. Her reply is a kiss, and he finds himself lost in her. She tastes like wine. He wants to kiss her forever. He doesn't know how they make it to the bed but they do, and suddenly they are naked and she's on top of him and his whole body is attuned to hers.
Afterward, she asks him to stay. He does. They sleep tangled together and wake in the morning, shy kisses turning deeper as they realise the passion isn't dimmed for lack of wine. They don't need to be drunk to be attracted to one another; that has been a given for weeks but now it was proven. He takes control this time and revels in how she clings to him, shuddering, his name a breathless chant in his ear.
-/-
He asks in the morning whether she wants things to change between them. She had been upset and they both were drunk the night before, though her participation had been equally eager in the morning's hush. Brand-Shei can't shake the idea that he is a distraction for her grief and nothing more; he realises when she flinches away from him that he has spoken his thoughts aloud.
She seems uncertain and it doesn't suit her. She plays with her fingers and speaks so quickly he struggles to keep up- she talks about how she slept near the forge for weeks when she first arrived, how she saw him give money to the beggars, saw him offer what little he had to help others. How she enjoyed that she could talk to him and feel like he was a friend, like he cared, and wasn't just listening in the hopes of getting something in return. How, even when she was away, she thought of his voice and would go out of her way to collect things he might like because she adored how he smiled. How she saved him for last because she wanted to spend the longest time with him, how she picked up every bit of useless crap to sell because it gave her an excuse to talk to him.
Brand-Shei lays stunned in her bed. She looks readier to cry the longer he is silent, until he begins to speak as well. Of how he had seen her the first day she arrived, arguing with Grelka over the price of leather. He tells her that watching them haggle had brightened his day. How she was the first thing he looked for each morning, like the sun hadn't risen until he saw her. How he adored her kindness, how she always had time for everyone. He told her how he watched her talking with Madesi and how he loved the crinkles between her brows when she was concentrating. How he would buy all her random crap and haggle over nothing for an excuse to see her for as long as he could. How he worried when she was gone, how he couldn't take his eyes off her when she came back.
She is beaming when he is done. Brand-Shei grins stupidly back, is still grinning when she kisses him. The kiss turns into more and with the uncertainty gone, they fall together once more. When they are both finished, she rolls to the edge of the bed and drags her bag out from under it. He strokes her back as it is exposed to him, his grey skin contrasting with the black of hers.
She rolls back over with a necklace dangling from her fist. It's a Skyrim thing, she explains, and though neither of them are from Skyrim it feels like the right thing to do.
Brand-Shei laughs and fetches the Amulet of Mara out of his shirt pocket. He tells her that he has had it for weeks but never had the courage to wear it for her. She confesses that she's only had hers for two days but she secretly considered them to be married already. She comes home to him most evenings; he keeps her house and heart warm. Brand-Shei hasn't had a proper home since he left Black Marsh and he tells her he would love to share hers, permanently.
She cups his face and smiles at him, her blue eyes bright. Ours, she tells him firmly. This is our home.
And it is.