Brynjolf realized the moment he realized it was Keiana that crossed his threshold that he could no longer hide behind the carefully constructed barriers he tried to place between himself and his Guild Master.
When he was recruited for the Thieves Guild as a younger lad by it's former Master, Gallus, the Imperial warned the former orphan of the dangers going from having nothing to having something. But just like most young people, the Nord spent his money almost as fast as he got it on drinks and women. Now it was mostly on the former and not the latter, since as he got older and his looks improved from gangly teen to sex-on-legs adult, women more often than not threw themselves at him with just a few honeyed words. The joys of being me... and then she arrived, throwing a mammoth sized kink into everything.
The ginger had wanted the lithe blonde Nord to join the Guild the second he had laid eyes on her walking into Riften one chilly afternoon in late Frostfall. The Lass wasn't like the usual visitor to the cesspool of the province, having turned the tables on the scam he had set up at the front gate by seducing the damned guard instead of being scared into paying the fee and turning Maul into a stuttering mess. The way she moved seemingly unconcerned about what was going around her yet always aware, the way she coaxed responses from normally reticent residents of Riften like she actually cared about their sob stories- Brynjolf knew he had to convince her to make her home in the Cistern, though he wouldn't mind if he could get her for a tumble too. At the time, of course, it was because passing up on the chance to add yet another conquest to his rather extensive list seemed unconscionable.
While he was able to convince Keiana to take on the mantle of a thief, never once could the older man get her in bed with him. He wasn't rusty- he flirted and she flirted right back, never telling him to cease the seemingly accidental and innocent caresses or embraces that lasted just a second too long to be considered friendly. But never once would she take that plunge into a bed with him and the Nord couldn't figure out why...
Then came Snow Veil Sanctum and everything changed. Brynjolf remembered Mercer offering his condolences at the loss of his protégée, of wanting to head straight to Eastmarch to at least bring her body home for a proper burial despite his Guild Master's command to stay put. Then things became a bit disconnected after that, so fast were events unfolding: a letter from Endon in Markarth saying that he had seen the Lass heading up to the Understone Keep looking worse for wear; another message from Niranye in Windhelm saying Keiana had stopped to sell some items to her and to spend the night in Hjerim, having left Winterhold early that morning; Mercer's betrayal, the Eyes of the Falmer and Irkngthand; Nocturnal, the Skeleton Key, Nightingales and the Twilight Sepulcher. One Step Ahead. Even through his own forced fight with Karliah, he couldn't keep his eyes off the other Nord as she battled the traitorous Breton, worrying for her life as he knew all too well how deadly Mercer could be with a blade. The disgraced Guild Master trying to get the last laugh as he died by flooding Irkngthand's Sanctuary and the eventual escape through the ceiling and into Bronze Water Cave.
In hindsight, he should have taken the key back himself as the Guild's Interim Guild Master, or forced Karliah to take responsibility for her lack of action over twenty years ago and faced Nocturnal. Instead, the Dark Elf feared facing the Prince after failing to protect the Skeleton Key despite her claiming before that Nocturnal wasn't truly displeased with her, and he... ran the other way claiming it was necessary to convince Maven Black-Briar that even with Frey dead business would still continue on as normal. Even with the Lass asking him to take the trip with her, the mulish male wouldn't budge... Some Nord he was.
Keiana had left for Whiterun after returning Nocturnal's Key to the Sepulcher and her taking on the role of Guild Master, claiming to have some unfinished business in the hold now ruled by Vignar Gray-Mane. Whatever it was that she had to do in the center of Skyrim the Lass was completely closed mouthed about it, the events not only led to her bearing new scars, but it seemed everything about her changed; the way she walked, the way she talked- Ana seemed darker, more dangerous and by gods if he didn't want her even more now. The mere thought of her plagued him while awake, while asleep, even in the middle of jobs. Never before did the thought of anyone or anything consume him as she did, and it scared Brynjolf to the point that he tried to find any and all excuses to not be around the Guild when his fellow Nord was. He knew telling her his lie of having important things to do- translation: trying to forget her while burying his head in between the legs of another woman- and that they would talk later wouldn't last very long, but he had to try freeing himself from this web the Lass knowingly or not captured him in. He was warned, of course and many times, by those who knew him well that this was not the way to handle his relationship with Ana, that his lie would end up hurting him more than her in the end, that someone would sweep her off her feet and treat her as she should be and not as an item to covet from afar.
The firetouched man watched her face every time the falsehood flowed from his mouth, the way her nose would twitch slightly, the narrowing of judging emeralds flecked with gold, and, eventually after the lie had been told long enough, the sigh of resignation and the slumping of shoulders. As time went on, Keiana didn't even respond and began to withdraw, spending more time talking and training with Delvin bloody Mallory of all people. He had watched the Breton take the female Nord under his wing, showing her the records he had kept regarding which thief would handle which jobs properly, of the always up-to-date list of who was barred from what hold and for how long- the last time someone lied and didn't let Mallory know they were forbidden from entering Eastmarch was left to let their heels cool in Windhelm's jail for the entirety of their six month sentence. And somehow the Sneak Trainer knew when he was looking, making sure his long time friend saw him whispering in her ear, brushing loose strands of flaxen hair behind her ear, or coaxing the same smile out of her that she used to give him.
So went the stalemate- him losing himself in the variety of women that called Skyrim home all the while watching his addiction slip further and further away. Eventually, something had to give- the tension was heavy and the emotions of the pair, though well hidden, were running rampant. And then it happened.
He knew the minute she questioned who he had spent his evening with that he should have told the truth up front, especially seeing the frail hold she had on her temper waning fast. But the lie spilled out of Brynjolf's mouth unbidden the two chances she gave him to come clean- two chances too many. The Nord though wasn't expecting Keiana to jump clear over her table and before him, nor was he expecting the unnaturally strong grip she put around his neck. The biggest shock was the sudden shift of eye color- emeralds with flecks of citrine were now an inhuman gold- but even with the change, he could easily see the swirling emotions hidden within, the anger, the hurt, the betrayal. The feelings held there, as well as the hint of tears at the edge of her eyes, that clenched at his heart the same way her hand held his throat- squeezing it tight.
Brynjolf was indebted to Delvin when he pulled their Guild Master out of the animalistic rage she nearly lost herself in, and actually listened to the advice his longtime friend gave him for once. He had went to the rebuilt Helgen where his next rendezvous with Lajla was; unfortunately for him, the thief learned too little too late just exactly why his werewolf Guild Master- he couldn't believe she had hidden that from him after everything they had been through together- felt so betrayed by his latest choice of bedwarmer.
The only thing that stood out in the disjointed memories was a bone chilling laugh escaping the woman as she leaned over his prone body, then her saying "So the bitch finally grew some teeth when it comes to you, hasn't she? Let's see if the shewolf will still want your sorry hide when I'm through with you!" Then came the pain, as if he was being burned from the inside out, screaming himself hoarse, begging for a death which never came.
How much time passed, the Nord didn't know, but when he finally opened his eyes for the first time, he was confused. Confused as to the fact that where he was looked nothing like the Twilight Sepulcher that Keiana described, confused as to why his hearing and sight had improved dramatically, and his memories in complete disorder. Then came answers to some of the questions, courtesy of Babette- he was currently in a fortified room in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and was the newest person to join the ranks of the undead. She had offered to take him hunting, offered to see if any of the assassins' blood called out to him; Brynjolf refused, of course- he didn't want to risk the peace between the two Guilds if he lost control.
Unwilling to deal with their distant cousin's stupidity anymore, the elder vampire sends for Delvin, hoping that he could get him to see some common sense. Brynjolf nearly threw the Breton through the door the first time, refusing any and all visitors from that point on. No matter who came to see him, who wanted the help, the man didn't care. He was a monster, and a monster didn't deserve pity...they deserved to die. How could he fulfill the oath he swore to Nocturnal in return for the ability to catch Mercer and deal with him once in for all... would the Patron of Thieves even be willing to accept him into the afterlife as he was?
Then today a new scent drifted into his room as the door opened and shut quietly. It was dark and dangerous, primal and seductive; the beast inside him demanded release, wanting to taste, bite, and claim the owner. The man wouldn't be beholden to what he desired, not now, not any longer. Unfortunately for the fledgling vampire, he picked a fight with the wrong person, getting up close and rather personal with his Guild Master, who was clearly pissed off still.
Brynjolf was fighting a war on seemingly three fronts as not only was he trying to resist Keiana, but his hormones- dead people have hormones?- decided that they were going to wake up and demand attention, plus the beast still wanted her, to make her submit and submit in return.
Why would she want us? Why would her wolf want us?
You expect me to understand what a werewolf wants? It has very basic instincts- food, shelter, protect the pack, find a mate.
Can't be any different than your desires, can it?
Hmm... She wants. You want. Her wolf wants. I want. Where is the problem here?
This can go wrong, you know. She's still the Guild Master-
Didn't stop Karliah and Gallus now, did it?
Twenty-five years on the run for being wrongfully accused of murder- I call that going wrong.
And you have all the time in the world to make sure you don't follow the same path. You learn from the mistakes of the past to not make them in the future… Now you better do something or she's really going think you're not paying attention.
The male thief tries to focus again, this time just in time to feel a soft nibbling just above his jugular. Shadows take you woman, Brynjolf mentally groans, then throwing caution to the wind, lifts a shaking hand and slowly runs his fingers through the soft strands of golden hair. He feels Ana pull back just enough to look at him, an unasked question swirling in yellowish-green eyes, to which his response is just pulling her in for another kiss.
A/N: I originally wasn't going to have this in the story, but I realized the original version Oblivion Hath No Fury was lacking a why. Sure, Brynjolf's a manwhore and despite that flaw, we all still love him (I blame the accent). But why did it take until Lajla for Ana to flip out? So I went forth and tried to find the why- here's hoping it's justice enough...
Also...it's a bit hard to write Bryn with submissive traits- not like in the BDSM aspect, but in the respect of Ana being more of an Alpha than he is (Blame Aela for that one) and his vampiric side knowing it. I'll have to throw the dice and see how they land with this...