So I wrote this, and uh, I realized that I don't have any Skyrim stuff on here. And I was like, "The fuck is wrong with you? Skyrim is fucking amazing." So I decided that I would put this up for shits and giggles.

Featuring my Nord thief Ziris and her attempts to get Brynjolf to talk to her.

Also, if there's weird formatting in this, it's because FanFiction's Doc Manager is being crazy and screwed with it. Not blaming anything, it's just different from what I'm used to.

Enjoy.

P.S- I really want to see Brynjolf drunk. Just sayin'.


"Hey lass. How about you pull up a seat and have a drink?" Delvin suggests, gesturing to the chair across from him. Ziris sighs, but plunks down anyway, gesturing to Vekel. He comes over to her with a mug of mead, and she hands him a few coins she pulls from her pocket. Delvin watches this exchange, noting the face that Ziris was wearing. "What's that look for?"

She grunts, looking down at the mead in the tankard, her nose wrinkling. "It's Brynjolf. He's refusing to talk to me, and I don't know why."

Delvin smiles a bit at her words, leaning back in his chair, perfecting aware of where this was going. "Z, Bryn isn't refusing; he's just been too busy to talk much while he's taking care of the Guild. You know you can't take on full responsibility until all the holds accept the Guild having a foothold there. If you do that, you'll get the responsibilities keeping Brynjolf busy, and he'll talk to you again."

Ziris lifts her gray eyes to look at him, a bit of light barely visible within the pupils. "You really think so?"

"Guarantee it," Delvin replies.

"Then what are we waiting for? Give me a job! Fishing, bedlam, whatever!" she cries, leaning towards him. Delvin grins again.

"Well, there is something over in Whiterun, if you're up for it," he comments.

Ziris slams her hand down on the table. "I'm up for anything!"

(*)

Ziris sneaks down the dark street of Whiterun towards the Market Place. The clouded moon over her head made it hard for anyone to see her, but she could see perfectly, a gift from Nocturnal that she was more than grateful for. Her boots kept her silent as she walked along, keeping to the even darker shadows near the houses. Peeking around one, she spots two guards coming up to one another. "Dark night, eh?" one says.

"Aye. I hate having the midnight shift. Who knows what could be sneaking around in the shadows?" the other replies.

Ziris chuckles silently to herself and moves to the other side of the house, being careful near the windows, scooting gingerly past them and scurrying to another to conceal her once more. She was close to the stalls now; she could practically taste the coin in the strong boxes. Barely pausing, she hurries to one and ducks behind it before the guard nearby can even take another step. With a breath of relief, she silently pulls a lock pick from her pouch and unsheathes her dagger, setting to work on the lock on the sliding door. It was easy enough, and she finches at the sound of the lock opening, but she releases her breath and opens the door.

The strong box was locked, of course, and she groans inwardly, but still puts the pick in there and starts on it, glancing up every now and again to make sure the guards weren't approaching. As she was taking out the gold from inside, something catches her eye, and she turns her head to see a shiny goblet sitting on the stall next to her. Quickly pocketing the gold, she dashes to a rock between the two stalls, looking around for the guards. In one quick more, she hurries up to the stall and reaches for the goblet, another hand reaching for it at the same time.

As a reaction, Ziris slices the hand with her dagger, opening a cut, which causes the hand to draw back, allowing her to grab the goblet and slide it into her bag. Without looking back, she scampers back to the house she was previously hiding behind. A muffled hiss sounds from the shadows near the stall, and she glances over her shoulder to see the last person she expected crouched by the stall. "Brynjolf?"

With a groan, she hurries back over to the stall, quickly pushing the red-headed Nord onto the ground. "What in the name of the Divines are you doing here?" she growls.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here? I'm here to steal that goblet you took, lass. Why are you here?" he asks, nursing the cut hand with the other.

With a sigh, Ziris pulls out a bandage from her bag, and takes Brynjolf's hand. She starts to wrap it, while speaking. "Delvin gave me a bedlam job. I know I'm supposed to steal merchandise, but I couldn't keep myself from taking the Septims too. I figured the goblet would be about half, and I would steal a dagger or something from the forge. But I guess you can have your cup back."

Finished with wrapping his hand, she reaches into her bag once more and pulls out the golden cup, handing it to him. "Now I gotta go find some other things to steal. You need to get out of here before-"

"Well, well, well. What have we here? A rat, and a mouse." Ziris grimaces, and then gingerly looks over her shoulder to see a guard standing there, his sword drawn. With a sigh, she stands up, a smile drawn on her face to look as innocent as possible.

"Good evening guardsman. I'm sure you're wondering what we're doing here, so late at night, yes?" she asks. The guard simply crosses his arms, waiting. "Well, uh… uhm… this is going to sound really bad… but uh-" As Ziris struggles for words, Brynjolf pulls himself to his feet and slings an arm over her shoulders, a goofy smile on his face.

In a slurred tone he says, "Don't worry about a thing, guardie. I'm just makin' sure the little lady gets back to Breezehome safely." He leans close to the guard and whispers loudly, "You know how women are. Drinking and such. You can't trust 'em by themselves."

The guard appears taken aback by Brynjolf's actions and speech, and he turns to Ziris, a question in his voice. "Are you taking him home, miss? Do you need any help?"

Intensely relieved that Brynjolf's show had worked, the thief shakes her head, pulling the Nord away from the guard and replacing his arm over her shoulder. "No, I'll be fine. This happens all the time. Come on Hainin. It's time to get you home."

"Right! Time to get you home," Bryn gurgles, his ton suddenly sounding very sleepy, and he releases a wide yawn for emphasis. Ziris smiles apologetically to the guard once more.

"I really am sorry. Have a nice night."

"You too, miss. And make sure he gets some water," The guard says, starting to walk away.

"Right. Thank you," Ziris calls, leading Brynjolf in the direction of Breezehome, glancing over her shoulder towards the guard. As soon as he is out of sight, she removes Bryn's arm from her shoulders and he moves away, composure regained. "That was quick thinking, Bryn. You're quite the actor."

He shrugs. "Yeah, you learn a few things when your life depends on it." He chuckles a bit, and then clears his throat. "I should probably be getting back to Riften."

"Yeah, that's probably something that should happen. I still have stuff to steal," Ziris replies, removing her Guild hood and brushing her hair back before putting it back on again. Bryn's eyes never left her, and she looks up at him. "What?"

"I didn't know you had dark hair. Has it always been that color?" he asks, apparently awed. She furrows her brows.

"Yes… I thought you knew. Well, I guess you learn something every day, don't you?" With that, she climbs up the side of the house they were behind, reaches the roof, grins down at him, and disappears. Brynjolf remains watching where she had previously been, his head tilted to one side.

"Yeah, I suppose you do."


So that's that. If any of y'all want more, feel free to ask. Maybe I'll write one about my assassin or Companion next. Leave suggestions if you like!