"You've got to admit it at some point Vex."
"Delvin, will you never stop pestering me over the smallest and trivial things? Every woman is entitled to her own damned opinion."
"Delvin's right lass, there's no need to be bitter towards your new sister in crime," Brynjolf teased, his eyes alight with a mischievous fire and his smirk turned towards the blonde.
"I'm not bitter," Vex snapped, folding her arms tighter against her chest.
"She told me of how you cornered her on her way back from a little heist and told her that she wasn't here to replace you," Delvin backed up, cocking one eyebrow at the blonde, "Tell me, what part of that is not bitter?"
"I was putting the new blood in her place."
Brynjolf and Delvin shared a glance over the table before shrugging their shoulders at the same time. With an infuriated huff, Vex left the table—which she did quite often in their presence—and went to go join Tonilia on the deck.
Delvin laughed softly and sipped from his mead. "One of these days she's going to violently kill us for the torture we put her through."
Brynjolf barked out a laugh and clinked goblets with Delvin; he could agree to exactly that.
However, they could understand Vex's frustration. She had been in this guild since childhood, and even when the Cistern had been bursting with great thieves, she had always been the go to girl when it came to infiltration and stealth. Years had gone by and it had never changed. Then Maeva came along and did something the Imperial woman could not. It would have irked anyone, though Vex was quick to anger in any situation.
But Maeva was good, and just because she had been upped didn't give Vex the right to ignore and snub the Breton. Not that the scarred woman minded. She was pleasantly calm when it came to Vex's blatant insults, which only angered the third more. Unless it was something really bad, Maeva just ignored it and tried to act professional, something Vex wasn't doing.
"Where is our little thief anyway? I heard that Mercer was going to give her a job in Whiterun soon."
"Last I saw of her, she was in the Cistern training room," Brynjolf wondered, "And I have nothing better to do, so why don't I just get my arse to work and find her for my dear leader?"
Delvin silently laughed into his mug and waved the younger man away, calling for Vex to come back to him. Brynjolf chuckled as he walked out of the Ragged Flagon. Mercer, once again, wasn't at his station, which confused the Nord, but he stuck to his mission of finding the female Breton. He said hello to Rune along the way, passing by him on the way to the training room.
He heard the Breton before he actually saw her, and the sounds he heard weren't all coming from her. Sometimes he would hear small breaths forcefully coming out of her mouth, then he would hear the sound of the arrow hitting the mark.
As carefully as he could, Brynjolf snuck into the room and sat in the dark corners as he watched Maeva in wonderment. Her quiver was filled to the brim with arrows, but she was shooting them out at a frighteningly fast rate.
She had three targets; two on the floor that were a few feet away from each other and one that the guild had placed on a high ledge. She was taking turns to which ones she was shooting and it took him a moment to realize that she was hitting all the "vital" areas of the hay dummies.
"That's quite an aim you got there lass."
A girly squeak left the Breton's mouth out of shock and Maeva whipped around, an arrow notched in her bow and pointed at him. He was looking a very sharp looking glass bow in the face, but an amused grin from the sound she made took over his face.
"Brynjolf!" the blue eyed woman exclaimed, "By the Nine! I almost shot you right in the face."
"I'm sorry lass, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up," the accused red head purred, his smile growing even bigger.
"Now I understand Vex's constant behavior around you and Delvin," she muttered, turning around and letting the ready arrow speed right into the middle of the hay dummy's head.
"We believe she secretly likes it," Bryn replied, watching as Maeva walked over to start pulling out her glass arrows, "But that is besides the point lass. You're a wicked archer."
"I've worked on it since I was a little girl, I would hope I was good."
Brynjolf chuckled and continued to watch the backside of Maeva as she finished plucking the last useful arrow to replenish her quiver. It was only then that she turns around to look at him.
Her face was completely open to him, one of the few times that she didn't have her mask and hood on. The scars on her neck and lip were painfully obvious for how pale they were, but in their own way, they were a beauty. Scars are a tale on a man's face, and they usually don't provoke such curiosity in Brynjolf, but seeing that long, white scar always brought the question of its origin to his mind. Instead, he looked at her left side where her healing wound was.
"How is your side?"
As if to prove how fit she is, Maeva bent a little at the side, stretching the skin underneath. She gave him a smile and put her armor back in its place. "The skin is a little tight from the healing scar, but given a few more days to heal and some healing potions, I should be back to perfect condition soon."
"Your first scar dealing in the Thieves Guild, though not your last. This would have been time to celebrate with a drink back when we were prosperous."
Maeva snorted and placed one of her hands on her slender hip. Brynjolf had to force himself to look at her face rather than the curve. "It seems like anything would cause for a drink around here."
Brynjolf's lips upturned at that, knowing she was correct. "You've found our secret lass, be sure not to tell anyone."
Maeva's gentle smile lit up her face in a very flattering way, and even though the ragged scar deformed it slightly, Bryn thought it fit her face better. It gave her uniqueness; it gave her character. As well, it gave him that blasted nosy feeling to ask where it came from.
"Your stares have not gone unnoticed Brynjolf. You may be a good thief, but you're not as sneaky as you look." Maeva's voice held the same amusement the Nord's had when he had heard her squeak. Brynjolf actually had the nerve to look embarrassed.
However, the Breton's scarred smile didn't leave her face. Instead, she placed her bow and quiver down on the ground and sat next to the red head on a hay stack, leaning against it and putting her arms behind her head like a pillow. Brynjolf looked over at her, but she just stared off at the ceiling. He had a feeling her eyes weren't seeing anything in this room.
"Bandits."
"Huh?"
Maeva turned her head so she was looking directly into Brynjolf's emerald green eyes. "Bandits gave me these scars. A vicious Orc and a fellow Breton. For some reason, there was only the two, which explains why I got away with my life."
"What did they do to give you the scars?" Damn him and his incessant need to pry. It wasn't his place to bring up painful memories. He blamed it on his thief side, always wanting to dig deeper into things so maybe he could find something of value.
Maeva didn't seem bothered by the question though. Her eyes were just distant and squinted, as if she was trying to focus on the memory.
"I left my home of Solitude at the age of ten to fend for myself around the other towns and forests there, which is when I started to become a master in archery. Because I was only a child, I couldn't acquire a job and had no want of one, so I became a thief. I did this kind of thing alone until I was fourteen. I had gotten a little cocky in my abilities as a sneak thief and tried for the bandits. They had talked earlier about all the things that they stole, and I wanted to take them while they slept."
"I'm guessing things didn't go as planned."
Maeva shook her head, mixing some of the loose hay into her hair, but again, she didn't seem to mind. She just continued on with her story as if Brynjolf hadn't interrupted.
"The Orc, as ironic as it seemed to be, was a very light sleeper and woke up to find me pocketing some of their things. He bound me and talked to his now awake buddy on what they should do to me. They thought it best if they had their way with me for a little while. The Orc, who seemed to be the leader, started off first and kissed me," Maeva made a disgusted sound, as if she could still feel the man's lips on her.
"I fought back against it and he bit through my lip as punishment. It hurt like a bitch, but I knew that if they ever got done with me, I was done for. So I kept struggling and made it impossible for them to get what they wanted. The Breton got frustrated and said I wasn't worth it. With my blood still on his lips, the Orc agreed and moved so the Breton could slit my throat."
Ah, so that's where it had come from. If the blade had made a mound of scar tissue that thick, then it must have been a very deep wound. How had she survived that?
"While I was drowning in my own blood, arrows in the night shot into their camp and struck the men in the head, killing them instantly. The only thing I remembered after that was waking up in the morning with a Dunmer woman by my side and bandages on my neck. I had somehow survived."
"That was very lucky lass. I've known many a man to go into bandit camps and never come out."
Maeva smiled again, and it wasn't one of bitterness like he expected. The smile was something that seemed loving.
"I am lucky; lucky that I stumbled upon Satha, the Dunmer, and lucky that she kept me around like her own child. She taught me to be a master at archery. As well, she was a thief and taught me everything I know now. We didn't have a permanent home because of our thief life, but as long as I had her, I didn't mind."
"Whatever happened to Satha?"
"When I turned twenty two, she told me it was time to part ways so I could make a name for myself. It was hard, but I knew she was right. She told me she would always be watching me to make sure I was safe, and I know she is. Six years later, here I am in the Thieves Guild."
Brynjolf turned and caught Maeva's attention, making them lock eyes, and his look was so intense that she couldn't look away, but it confused her. He gave her a very disarming smile that made her want to look away, but his gaze kept her like a witch's curse.
"I hope that we can become as much of a family for you as Satha was."
Maeva guffawed out loud and sat up, shaking the hay out of her hair. She continued laughing as she walked away and Brynjolf watched her, confused. Before she left the door with her things, she turned back around and gave the Nord a seductive look.
"A brother of crime doesn't watch his sister's ass as she walks away. I'm sure it's not family you want."
Again she laughed loud enough for it to ring through the halls as she left, though this time she didn't turn back around. Until her form was gone, Brynjolf was watching her with that infamous smirk on his face. She was right; he enjoyed staring at her too much to call her family.
Brynjolf, the lazy man that he was sometimes, continued to sit in the training room for a little while longer. Thrynn came in not too long after Maeva left, and Brynjolf had always seen him as a great archer, but after the Breton's show not even an hour before, there was no way the man could compete. Not that he would ever tell the Nord that, but it was true.
Thrynn ignored Bryn's presence and just practiced, getting some powerful shots out in his time there. Brynjolf was about to get up and try the master lock for fun, but was cut off by Rune before he even got the chance to get up.
"What is it lad?"
"Mercer said he wanted to see you at his desk. Maeva's been called out too."
"Oh, what in Mara's name have we done now?" the red head whined, though he got up.
Rune, the good hearted man he was, gave his superior a small smile and left the room to head to the Cistern. Thrynn gave the Nord a farewell that Brynjolf returned before setting off for the short travel to Mercer.
And there the old man was, behind his desk where he usually was, though he was in a deep conversation with the masked Maeva. He looked a little red with anger, but it wasn't anything new to the Nord's eyes, though Maeva wasn't taking it well. Brynjolf narrowed his green eyes and walked over to them faster.
Ever since the Breton had finished the Goldenglow job, Mercer had been the opposite of grateful. At first he was happy to have it done, but even after Maven's praise to the woman, he had grown annoyed with her. As some kind of punishment, he had sent Maeva out on more than her fair share of jobs all across Skyrim. She did each of them without a complaint and without flaw, but that seemed to only anger Mercer more.
However, the male Breton shut his mouth when Brynjolf came into his line of sight. The red head came to stand next to Maeva and she turned her head to give him a thankful glance. He seemed to be the only one who Mercer didn't give murderous glances to.
"You called Mercer?"
"Maven has a job for our new blood over here, because she is so pleased with her work, but I'm not so easily wooed by the little gold she's brought in."
Brynjolf could almost feel the anger like fire from Maeva, and it was the first time he had ever seen her so angry in her stay here. Even Vex's rude comments had done nothing to ruffle her like Mercer had. What the old man had said, he didn't know, but it must have been bad if normally docile Maeva was reacting to it.
"Mercer, the Goldenglow job wasn't enough to give you confidence in Maeva? She did what someone else could not. I would take her as back up any day."
"That's what you're doing Brynjolf."
The Nord blinked at this. "I'm what?"
"The job Maven sent to me was supposed to be for me only," Maeva finally spoke, though it seemed forced, "but Mercer doesn't think I can handle the job in Whiterun by myself, so you're coming to be my babysitter."
"Mercer, that is bold even for you!" he exclaimed, glaring at the Guild Master, "Maeva has gone to Markarth and back; you can't trust her to go to Whiterun?"
"My orders are commands Brynjolf, and I'm tired of everyone going against them. Maven is an important asset to us and I will not have this girl mucking up our biggest chance to bring our name back to all of Skyrim. I will have no more arguing words out of either of you. Now go and speak to Maven."
With that, Mercer turned his attention back to his job book and started to pen something down, acting as if neither of the thieves were there. Knowing they were dismissed, Maeva turned away with a huff and made for the secret entrance. Brynjolf moved to catch up and stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"Hold on a second, lass, I still need to get my things together."
"You know I don't need you for this, right?" Maeva bit out, sounding a lot like Vex. However, her anger was well placed. Bryn gave her an apologetic look.
"I know that lass, but Mercer is in charge here and we can't go against him."
"I didn't come here to be questioned at every turn Brynjolf. I came here for the gold."
"And the gold is coming to you. Just keep yourself level headed around Mercer. He's under some pressure with Aringoth having sold his Estate to some mystery person."
Maeva sighed and nodded her head. Her shoulders relaxed and her dark blue eyes looked friendlier. "I understand. You go get your things ready and I'll meet you outside of the Bee and Barb."
A/N: Because I didn't update yesterday (Well, not until 1 in the morning anyway) I decided I would update twice :] Hope you enjoy