Frozen. Gods, she couldn't even blink. Athyn watched helplessly, vision blurry, as a figure towered above her. Mercer Frey. She could hear the sneer in his voice as he taunted her, wishing her muscles weren't turned to stone so she could cast a scowl his way. Stick around until the poison wears off, hot-shot. We'll see who's laughing then.
The unmistakable sound of a blade unsheathing turned her blood to ice, any other sarcastic thought she may have had was nipped in the bud. He meant to kill her. He honest to Stendarr meant to kill her. Athyn was unsure of what appalled her more: the fact that she didn't see this coming or the fact that she couldn't do anything to stop it.
They'll never find my body down in this pit, either. What a way to go. Thanks a lot, you rat-bastard.
Mercer pressed his blade against Athyn's throat. He smelled of sweat, leather, and mold. If she had to die, she would have preferred to be out in the woods somewhere, surrounded by the scent of pine and maple. Life wasn't fair, she supposed.
Her eyes, the color of maple-sap, watched Mercer with as much defiance as she could muster. He could kill her, leave her to rot in the same place he left Gallus, but he would not have the satisfaction of seeing her frightened in her last moments. She felt rage flood through her as he stared at her with unbridled amusement.
"Act brave all you want, elf," he snickered, pressing the cool edge of his dwarven blade against her jugular. "It won't change the fact that only one of us is walking away from this place. Déjà vu all over again," he sighed dreamily. Then, a sick grin twisted his features and his eyes sparkled maliciously in the dim torchlight. "Poor Brynjolf, I'll be sure to let him know all about how you betrayed me and I was forced to put you down. Elves have to stick together, right?"
Some emotion must have flashed in her eyes—Athyn inwardly cursed—because Mercer's grin widened and he slowly pulled the blade across her skin. She felt the bite of the corundum edge as it split her flesh, felt the sticky warmth cascading from the seam. It hurt, but nothing but the dilation of her pupils could betray the pain she felt engulfing her body like a flame.
"I always knew you'd break his little heart…"
Athyn couldn't hear the rest. There was a frantic thundering in her ears, blocking out all noise. Darkness seeped into her vision, obscuring Mercer's armored back as he calmly strode away from the puddle of blood pooling around her.
A sick gurgle—hardly profound last words—erupted from her open throat before she was completely overcome by the abyss.
Brynjolf stood in the kitchen. The home was dark, quiet, so unlike the Honeyside he had come to know. He expected to hear the soft patter of Bosmer feet scurrying about, to feel her honey-skinned arms wrap around his neck as she leapt onto his back.
Nothing happened.
Brynjolf fought against the wave of disappointment that flooded through him, kept his eyes cold and his shoulders stiff. He meandered through the rest of the house, absently running his fingers along the different gems and baubles decorating her shelves. His fingertips itched, begging for him to slip the diamonds and sapphires into his pockets. He pulled his hand away.
How could you do it, Lass? He must've asked the same question a million times by now. He turned into the bedroom and his eyes landed on the plush, immaculate bed. He grimaced, a bitter taste filled his mouth but he couldn't tear his gaze away. How many nights had he crept through her back door just to join her between those emerald sheets?
He had tried to deny it, at first, told himself that a mistake had been made. But, when Mercer presented him with Wind-Catcher—the bow she had made with her own two hands, white wood and silver designs painstakingly carved into its surface—there had been no disputing it.
"This is my baby," she'd once told him, skillfully shooting the apple that was half-way to Rune's mouth, "the only way anyone could even dream of taking her away from me would be to pry her from my cold, dead hands."
Brynjolf slipped the bow from his back and trailed a calloused finger over the wood. His hands shook and his eyes were burning as a flood of emotion overtook him. Athyn had joined up with that murderous bitch, Karliah. Then, she tried to double-cross Mercer. Damn fool.
She had betrayed the guild, and worse, she had betrayed him.
You damned fool! The thought repeated over and over in his mind, though he didn't know if it were dedicated to him or the Bosmer. He glared at Wind-Catcher, gripped it on each end and snapped it across his knee. The sound of splintering wood didn't quell his anger, if anything, it added fuel to the fire.
He threw the worthless weapon to the ground, whirled around, and punched the looking glass hanging from her wall. He ripped valuables off their displays, shattered vases, and ripped the pillows and sheets from her bed, spitting and cursing and condemning her to all the planes of Oblivion he could name.
She'd hurt him. Hurt him in more ways than he dared to mention. He regretted not going with her and Mercer to Snow Veil Sanctum. He regretted that he hadn't been the one to slit her traitorous little throat. He regretted that he'd never be able to ask her "why?"
Once the bedroom was thoroughly trashed, Brynjolf sank to the floor. He realized he was screaming, his mouth was dry and throat raw. His knuckles bled from shards of glass that were imbedded in his flesh, but he made no effort to remove them.
This was as much his fault as hers. He had put complete faith in her after she demonstrated her uncanny knack for taking care of business. He trusted her with everything he was, expecting her to honor and respect him and the guild just as much as he honored and respected her.
He should've known the little Bosmer was lying to him all along.
Athyn groaned and rolled to her side, her nose wrinkling at the feel of ice on her cheekbones. Her eyelids fluttered open, sight slowly adjusting to the firelight blazing ahead.
"You're awake," a dimly familiar voice noted. Athyn squinted and located the source: A Dunmer woman stood about fifteen feet away from her, tending to the campfire.
"You," Athyn grimaced and held a hand to her throat. Her voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper. The Dunmer calmly walked over and offered her a waterskin, which she took eagerly. Once Athyn was satisfied, she took a quick scan of her surroundings.
Snow. Snow as far as the eye could see.
Great! So that puts me in…Skryim.
North Skyrim, if she wanted to be fair. Which she didn't. Athyn's eyes narrowed at the Dunmer, who seemed to sense the malicious stare since she turned to match the Bosmer's glare with her lavender one.
"Before you say anything," she cut Athyn off, dark lips smirking at the look of utter outrage crossing the Bosmer's features at being interrupted. "We're just outside Snow Veil Sanctum. You should be thanking me, the poison from my arrow slowed you heart. You would have bled out before I would've been able to heal you."
"And Mercer?"
"Gone."
Athyn scowled and forced herself to her shaky feet. She was freezing and the fire looked inviting. She pulled the blanket with her and sat on it, watching the Dunmer roast a rabbit over the open flame. "You're Karliah."
"You're observant."
Athyn bit the inside of her cheek, pulled her knees to her chest and focused on the flames flickering before her. "I'm guessing, since I'm still alive, that Mercer wasn't up front with me about you."
"Your gravest mistake was believing Mercer to be 'up front' with you about anything."
"Well it was his word over a stranger," Athyn bit back, "I had no reason not to believe the guild master—and everyone else, I might add—when I was told we were going after a murderer."
Karliah frowned, slipping the rabbit from the spit and ripping a leg off with her hands. She wordlessly handed it to Athyn before taking her own share and sitting beside the Bosmer. Athyn stared at the rabbit leg hungrily and wasted no time devouring the meat like a starving wolf. Karliah watched her with a hint of distaste and took a delicate bite out of her dinner before speaking.
"Mercer claimed I grew hungry with greed and murdered Gallus in cold blood. Without me there to defend myself, there was little room for doubt that Mercer was telling the truth. He is no doubt spreading similar lies about you."
"Only a fool would believe the same story twice."
"The Guild is falling apart," Karliah said pointedly, "they can't afford to question authority." The Dunmer continued to nibble at the rabbit leg. "If things had gone according to plan, Mercer would be dead and the truth would come out. But, as ill-luck would have it, I had to waste the poison that took me years to perfect on you."
Athyn scowled and threw the leg bone into the snow. "Well, excuse me! It's not like I knew about this little plan of yours! If you're so amazing why didn't you write the recipe down then? Or gods forbid, had the foresight to know things can go wrong and took the time to make a back-up!"
Karliah was silent, watching the Bosmer with steady eyes as rage visibly consumed her. She ranted and screamed, her gently curved nose was turning red from the cold. Her bright amber eyes were wide and furious, turning glassy as tears dribbled from the corners.
"It's all ruined," her voice cracked and she held a hand up to the scar along her neck. "My friends—my family —I have nothing now because of you!" Athyn clenched her eyes shut, an image of Brynjolf, disappointed and angry, invaded her mind and she choked. "I hated you before, when I thought that you were the cause for the Guild's downfall, but I hate you even more now! You could have gotten a clear shot at Mercer if you'd waited, but you were just too damn impatient, weren't you?"
Karliah watched as the small elf's shoulders shuddered as she tried to reign in her tears. The Dunmer calmly finished the meat and dropped the bone to the ground. She stood and the Bosmer watched her warily as she approached and pulled her glove more firmly over her hand.
Lavender met with amber, their gazes locking for a brief moment and Athyn wondered what the Dunmer would say in her defense.
Karliah said nothing, only drew her hand back and struck Athyn's cheek with the flat of her palm. The Bosmer's head snapped to the side from the impact and she stumbled and fell on her rump in the snow.
"If you're quite finished feeling sorry for yourself," Karliah scowled, "we can focus on getting our home back." Athyn growled and lunged at the Dunmer, but was stopped by the tip of a blade against her throat. She hadn't even seen Karliah reach for it. "You're angry, I know that, I felt the same way when Mercer betrayed me and Gallus," she put a bit more pressure on the knife and Athyn took a cautious step back. "But, you need to keep a level head. If you run into this with rage clouding your senses, you'll just die at the hands of the people you once called 'friends,' we need to be smart about this."
Athyn grit her teeth and nodded, wheat-blonde hair escaping from one of her braids to dangle in her face. Once Karliah was sure the Bosmer wouldn't try to rip her apart with her teeth, she sheathed her blade and stepped over to her pack, pulling out a battered leather-bound book.
"This is Gallus's journal," she explained, handing the book over. Athyn took it in her hands and ran her fingers along the rough leather. "I believe it will contain all we need to prove our innocence and take Mercer down once and for all."
"You 'believe?' You haven't read it?"
"That's the issue," Karliah grimaced and motioned for Athyn to open the book. Athyn complied, unraveling the string holding the cover shut and opening the journal at the middle. Her eyes were bombarded with symbols she'd never seen before, a language long since dead and buried.
"Well, this is a huge help," she scowled, slamming the cover shut. "This is your plan? What're we going to do? Say it's some secret code that only you can read and pull a story out of our asses?"
"No. You are going to take the journal to Winterhold. I know someone, an old friend of Gallus that may be able to help decipher what is written."
"Don't think I didn't notice that you only mentioned me."
"Mercer thinks you dead, but he knows that I escaped. He'll have men searching for me and I can't risk getting caught. Not after I'm so close."
Athyn scowled and glared down at the journal. "As always, I get stuck with the grunt work," she muttered under her breath. "This had better be worth as much as you think it is."
"I hope it will."
"You're not too good at the whole optimism thing, are you?"
"I am about as skilled in optimism as you are in gratitude."
Athyn felt her face flush and one of her pointed ears twitched in irritation.
"Thank you for saving my life," she ground out through her teeth. Karliah sighed and put a gloved hand on Athyn's shoulder, handing her the leather satchel the Bosmer used as a pack.
"Thank me properly when we're home in Riften."
Athyn nodded and took her bag from the Dunmer's hand, slipping the journal safely inside. Optimism and gratitude aside, Athyn looked up at the sky to determine which direction she was facing.
"To Winterhold, I guess," she sighed and slipped a hand to her shoulder, then paused. "Where is my bow?"
"You didn't have one with you when I returned to recover you from the Sanctum."
"That bastard took my bow!" Athyn's voice was shrill and she clenched her fists as they shook with rage. "When we get back to Riften, I'm going to slit that Horker-humping-son-of-a-bitch's throat with a rusted dagger!"
"Then you'd best get that journal to Winterhold as swiftly as possible."
Athyn nodded, her face burning red with anger. She took off running toward the town, not slowing even as her feet slipped on the ice.
Karliah watched her go, shaking her head bemusedly. "Well," she sighed to herself, "at least what she lacks in propriety she makes up for in passion."
The last half is in the works, this story would just be too long if I decided to make this a one-shot. I was never overly fond of Karliah, I thought she had a snooty voice and she COULD have had a back-up poison or at least waited until I was out of the freaking way. Despite my dislike for her, I tried to keep her as in character as I could.