The Bride & The Other Brother

Chapter 4

The grip on her bow was steadfast as she aimed and fired. The arrow soared through the air and sank into the practice dummy across the training room. With swift nimble fingers, Faye pulled another arrow from her quiver, aimed, and released. Before the arrow hit the practice dummy, Faye rolled sideways on the ground, sat up on her knees, raised her bow, took aim, and fired. The moment the arrow left her fingers she was already rolling backwards over her shoulder and standing up on her feet, another arrow fired almost immediately after the first two. Faye was panting with the exertion as she watched all three arrows land in the dummy's chest, but nowhere near the heart - where she was aiming.

Becoming frustrated and irritated, Faye's eyes narrowed in concentration. With tremendous speed, Faye pulled another arrow, released, and hit the dummy again. She reach back, pulled again, hit again. Pulled back. Hit. Pulled. Hit. Then pulled and hit again. But none of the arrows landed where she wanted them too.

Faye cursed under her breath and lifted a hand inside her hood to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her sneaking was better than Delvin's, there was no lock she couldn't pick, and she was the best pickpocket in the guild, but she still got her ass handed to her in a fight. She was sick of it. She was sick of being weak, sick of being dragged back to the thieves guild unconscious and bleeding, sick of being paired up with someone else because no one could rely on her getting a job done by herself. She refused to be the one who always needed saving, the one who couldn't hold her own. No more. She'd train every second of every day if she had too.

"You're getting better, Faye."

Faye squeaked and spun around to find Brynjolf walking languidly into the training room. Faye's heart began to beat covetously at the sight of him, just like it always did, and her cheeks felt warm from the sound of her name uttered in that alluring drawl of his. She was still getting used to Brynjolf actually knowing her name, much less to the nickname he'd adopted for her a few weeks ago that made every nerve in her body flare up as it rolled so tantalizingly off his tongue.

When she'd joined the thieves guild at the young age of twelve, she'd immediately fallen in love with Brynjolf. It was hard not too. Everyone loved him. He was handsome, charming, funny, talented, popular. She would watch the older boy longingly from afar, keep count of the number of times he spoke to her – which was not many - and dream of him while she slept. He was her first love, but her love was never returned. Brynjolf didn't even know she existed until they worked the Goldenglow Estate job together a few weeks ago. Besides, Brynjolf and Vex had been together for the past ten years. Still, Faye dreamed of the day when Brynjolf would wake up and find that Vex wasn't the girl for him.

"You're up late," Brynjolf stated, his words slurring slightly as he moved leisurely into the room. His steps were agile and confident, but Faye noticed he didn't quite move as smoothly as he usually did. As the Nord moved into the room, the Breton was immediately hyperaware of him. Her leafy green eyes tracked his every move and ran over his handsome face and sinewy figure, her eyes lingering on the thick locks that were the color of fresh blood.

How desperately she wanted to touch those locks, to see if they were as thick and soft as they looked. Just once she wanted to run her fingers through his hair, be close enough to see all the colors in his sea green eyes, and drag a hand down that hard, rippling chest she knew was hidden beneath his newly acquired guild master armor. Faye quickly dispelled the lascivious images that were now racing through her mind and cleared her throat. "I need the practice," she replied, proud of herself for not stammering as her heart rate increased in response to his presence.

The Nord sniggered. "Yes, you do."

"Shut up," she snapped, scowling.

A lopsided grin grew on his face as he approached her. Her body froze, her throat running dry, her palms sweating as he drew closer. Her breath caught when he brushed past her, his shoulder lightly touching hers. Faye's brows furrowed as she sniffed the air. Did he… did he smell like whiskey? Brynjolf never drank hard liquor. She couldn't help but wonder why.

Brynjolf strolled lethargically to the back corner of the room and sat casually on a barrel. Faye took a deep breath and forced herself to exhale, suddenly lightheaded. It was always like this when she was around him. Her body would clamp up at the very sight of him and her mind would melt into a puddle at any closeness. She was always so nervous just being in the same room as him. It'd gotten worse in the last few months since they'd started working together on finding out who was attacking the guild. She knew she was in real trouble when she actually fainted in his arms when he'd carried her back to Riften after Mercer had stabbed her at the Snow Veil Sanctum a few days ago.

"Well, go on then," Brynjolf said with a smirk as he laced his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall. "Show me what you've got, lass."

A shiver ran down her spine at the nickname. Faye's chin turned towards him, her lust filled eyes slowly shifting to look at the tempting thief over her shoulder. She suddenly felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to throw her bow down on the ground and march over to him, grab him by the collar, pull him down to her and kiss him breathless. Really show him what she's got. She wanted to take this one chance, however stupid and foolish, and kiss him the way she'd never thought she would, in her entire life, be able to kiss him. But… she couldn't. Her courage was nowhere to be found, leaving her with nothing but her insecurities and thoughts of doubt. Besides, Brynjolf wouldn't want her to kiss him. He had Vex for that.

Faye tore her gaze from him and looked back at the dummy. She exhaled slowly and pulled her last arrow from her quiver, aimed, and released. The arrow sank into the dummy's foot.

"That was your worse shot yet. Is there something on your mind, lass? You seem… distracted." Faye's eyelids fluttered. His voice was like the whiskey he smelled like – smooth and rich yet lined with a roughness that caressed her spine in the most titillating way.

Oh, she was distracted alright. Painfully so.

Faye watched the Nord out of the corner of her eye as she walked over to the practice dummy and started removing the arrows sticking out of it. "So, what are you still doing here, Brynjolf?" she inquired. "I thought you were going to take Vex out before we left for Winterhold to speak with Enthir?"

His provocative smirk immediately fell into a deep frown, his green eyes becoming tight and hard, his body coiling with tension. Faye's eyebrows rose at his odd behavior. His expression was hard to decipher. It spoke of anger, treachery, and underlying hurt. It was the same expression he wore when he learned that Mercer betrayed the guild. "Oh, I was."

"So, why didn't you?" asked Faye as she pulled out another arrow, watching him attentively.

"Oh, that's simple," he answered, his words clipped and his voice heavily laced bitterness and resentment. "I found her fucking Delvin in my bed."

A gasp resounded throughout the training room and the arrows in the Breton's hand fell forgotten to the ground as she spun around to face him, astonished and disbelieving. "WHAT?!"

He turned his head to the side, averting his gaze. "Seems its been going on for the past two years." His words came out uncaring, but Faye could see the muscle in his jaw working.

Faye stared at his side profile for a moment in utter shock, not believing she had heard correctly. "Brynjolf, I'm… I'm so sorry," she said lowly in a soft, sympathetic voice.

"Yeah… so am I," he mumbled ruefully.

Faye didn't know what to say. What could she say? But the grief-stricken look on his face was starting to cause her pain, so she bent over and began collecting the arrows she had unintentionally dropped on the floor. When she stood she saw him reach behind the barrel he was sitting on and pull out a half empty bottle of whiskey. He twisted off the cap, letting it drop to the floor, and took a long pull on the bottle.

Faye's heart wrenched as she watched the man she loved, so full of heartache and pain, trying to drown his sorrows in the bottle pressed to his lips. Unable to stand the sight of his suffering, Faye put the last arrow in her quiver and then returned to her place across the room and faced the practice dummy.

Before she returned to her training, her jade orbs flickered to him. She was a little surprised to find him watching her closely. Very closely. She lifted her chin and said firmly, "You deserve better. You deserve to be with somebody who makes you happy. Somebody who appreciates just how truly wonderful you are. Somebody who won't hurt you. You deserve better than her. She doesn't love you like-" Faye cut herself off, swallowing her next word before it slipped her tongue, utterly horrified at what she almost confessed.

His eyes softened a bit, the sorrow diminishing slightly, and his lips tugged up at the corners into an endearing smile. "Like what, lass?

Faye blinked. She must have been hallucinating, but she thought she heard a hint of… affection… in his tone. She had to have imagined it—longed for it.

The Breton quickly turned her gaze to the practice dummy across the room. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, drew her bowstring tight, and released. The arrow hit off center. Faye's arms fell heavy to her sides as a curse left her lips, disappointment sinking like a stone to the bottom of her stomach. She wasn't getting any better. She still sucked. She'd never be able to win a fight on her own. She was weak. Weak, weak, weak.

"You're too tight," came Brynjolf's deep, alluring voice. "You need to loosen up." Faye looked at him over her shoulder with a questioning gaze. "Here, let me show you," Brynjolf said as he approached her slowly from behind.

Faye turned her attention back to the practice dummy. She reached back and drew out an arrow from her quiver, but froze when he pressed his body against hers from behind. Her heart skipped a beat and she had to forcefully swallow the large lump that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat. A shiver crept down her spine when he slowly wrapped his arms around her, his hands coming to rest on top of her own. Faye's heart hammered violently in her chest as his dexterous fingers curled around her hands. Guiding her with his hands, he gently moved her limbs into the proper positioning of setting her arrow and pulling back the bowstring.

Faye's breath hitched when he moved in closer, his hips pressing against her rear, the heat of his body seeping into her own. Her mind seemed to fog over as her senses became filled with the scent of cinnamon, juniper berries, and whiskey. Faye bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering when his chin gently nudged her hood back a bit so that his mouth could hover just above her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin, tiny wisps of golden hair fluttering around her temple.

"Breathe, lass," he murmured, his voice like honey in her ear, as a strand of crimson hair fell against her cheek.

Obeying his command, Faye drew in a deep breath, her chest expanding, causing her body to press back into his.

His lips brushed her ear. "That's a good girl." His voice was so smooth and silky it was like crushed velvet in her ear. "Now, release when you exhale."

Faye exhaled slowly and released, the arrow flew through the air and hit dead centre on the target. Faye let out a gasp of surprise and her bow fell forgotten to the floor. After a second of silence, she squealed happily and started jumping up and down, clapping her hands together gleefully.

Brynjolf chuckled as he stepped back, watching the young woman celebrate her achievement; happy he had a hand in her happiness.

Faye turned around and jumped at the Nord, her arms going around his neck as she hugged him to her as tight as she could. "Thank you, Brynjolf," Faye uttered into his chest, her feet dangling off the ground. "I really needed that."

"Don't thank me, lass," Brynjolf whispered against her hood as he held the petite woman in his arms. "It was all you."

Faye smiled into his chest and tightened her hold on him, but then she realized what she was doing and quickly pulled away, squirming in his arms. Brynjolf slowly lowered the tiny Breton until her feet touched the ground. Faye tried to back away, but Brynjolf's arms remained encircled around her, keeping her body pressed against his.

Faye's eyes slowly dragged up his body to meet his gaze. The intensity she found there stole her breath away. Her chest rose and fell rapidly against his, as her pulse began to race. The air around them was suddenly stifling, filled with a tension so electrically charged she could almost feel it spark against her skin. His hands travelled up her back, sliding under her cuirass, his warm fingers stroking her bare skin. Her body tensed instinctively as she watched his pale green eyes darken with an emotion she'd never seen aimed at her before.

"Brynjolf?" Faye asked quietly, her voice brimming with incomprehension and uncertainty.

"Lass…" His voice had changed. It was deeper now, rougher, overflowing with fervor and longing.

Brynjolf shifted closer and Faye felt her knees grow weak as she realized what he was about to do. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been dreaming of this for the last six years. But now that it was here, she found herself unbelievably frightened, nervous, and hesitant.

Faye's lips parted with a silent gasp when Brynjolf's hand slowly reached into her hood, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. He gently lifted her chin, tipping her head back so he could see her face for the first time, though the low lighting in the room kept most of her face cloaked in shadow.

Her dark ivy eyes were as big as saucers as they stared back at him with unmistakable fear and apprehension. Brynjolf's brows furrowed. "Why are you afraid, lass?"

Faye visibly swallowed. "Because I think you're about to kiss me."

His eyes searched hers, a stray lock of auburn hair falling in his eyes. "Why would that frighten you?"

"Because I've… I've never done it before," she answered quietly, her voice choked with emotion.

Brynjolf's lips pulled into a devilish smirk and the hand on the small of her back curled into her armor. With a voice as smooth and sultry as sin, Brynjolf uttered, "So, I'm to be your first kiss, then?"

If at all possible, her eyes widened even further at his words. "A-Are you-u-u?" she asked, but her voice was so shaky that she doubted he could even understand what she was saying.

His darkened green eyes fell to her lips and his fingers brushed across the side of her neck inside of her hood to curl around the nape of her neck, holding her in place. Faye sucked in a sharp breath, her pulse racing wildly as Brynjolf leaned into her, that sinful smirk still on his face as he slowly brought his face down to hers. Shivers of anticipation were coursing through her as he closed the distance between them. Her body trembled when his lips brushed hers in the lightest of touches. It was so soft and gentle, a subtle caress of his mouth against hers, stealing her breath for his own.

Faye closed her eyes, allowing him to support her weight as her knees weakened. She could hear nothing but her own heartbeat roaring in her ears, could smell nothing but his scent, could taste nothing but the whiskey on his lips.

Brynjolf slowly released her lips as he pulled back slightly. His eyes were fixated on hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Faye was having trouble standing and remembering how to breathe at the same time. His hand left the back of her neck to slowly push her hood back, exposing her face and hair to him.

"You're so beautiful," Brynjolf said breathlessly as his hand gently stroked her hair. "Hiding such beauty should be a crime, lass."

Faye's heart hammered against her chest. "You... you think I'm beautiful?"

"Devastatingly so," he replied in a husky whisper as his hand desperately wrapped itself in a coil around a golden strand, pulling her to him. "Give me your mouth again, lass," he rasped, his mouth slanting over hers.

His mouth moved expertly against her own, slowly easing her into the kiss. She responded slowly at first, then more and more eagerly. It still didn't feel real. Brynjolf was holding her, kissing her, and it was gentle and sweet and everything she'd dreamed it would be. This just couldn't be real.

Her hands came up between them to rest on the toned muscle of his chest as she felt herself dissolve into him. With the press of her lips on his, she tried to tell him all the things she could never say out loud, all the secrets in her heart that she'd been hiding for years.

His hand untangled from her hair and cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the contour of her cheekbone, as if he was trying to tell her that he understood all she was trying to say without words. Under his touch, she felt herself go liquid and pliant against him, her lips parting in a sigh as his warm fingers dragged up her spine. As she kissed the man of her dreams, the man she'd loved for so long, any doubts or questions she had about whether they were meant for each other were abolished.

Heat began to spread throughout her limbs and she began to feel a clenching in her stomach. Needing to feel him against her, Faye instinctively dug her fingers into his armor and pulled him close to her, until every inch of his body was pressed firmly against hers. A deep groan reverberated in his chest. His hands knotted in her hair and the kiss stopped being gentle and became ardent and stormy, all in a single moment like a light rain into a downpour.

He angled his head, running the warm tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. She gasped at the feel of his tongue on her lips and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, gliding it sinuously against hers. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Faye's hands slid up his black leather cuirass, her fingers skimming over the many buckles and clasps, to grip his broad shoulders and kiss him as passionately as he was kissing her.

The hand on her bare back rounded her hip, his palm pressing against her stomach. Her muscles spasmed under his touch as his hand traveled higher under her armor, grazing over her belly button then her ribcage to cup the swell of her breast, sending a ribbon of desire straight to her core. Her hands wound into his russet hair and she whimpered against his lips when his thumb brushed over her nipple, her fingers flexing in his silken locks.

"Brynjolf?" Came the sound of Vex's voice in the distance.

The warmth of his body disappeared and Faye suddenly found herself kissing nothing but air. Confused, her eyes fluttered open to find Brynjolf standing a few feet away from her. Faye stood, staring at him, her chest heaving, eyes wide and lips parted, her hands still raised in front of her where his body had been seconds before. Her chest constricted tightly as she noticed the look of remorse on his face and shame in his eyes.

That look... it cut her deeper than any blade she'd ever taken. It cut her right down to her very core.

Questions piled up in her mind faster than she could process them. Was she a bad kisser? Did he regret kissing her? Had everything been a lie? Was he ashamed to be seen with her? Or did he just not want Vex to know?

Faye sucked in a breath as she realized that was it. Vex. They were still together. He was still in love with her. Oh gods, she'd made a huge mistake.

Faye struggled hard to contain herself as they stood staring at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever until Vex appeared. The Nord woman's eyes immediately went to Brynjolf. "We need to talk."

"Aye," he answered, his eyes still on the Breton. He turned then, his eyes slowly dragging away from Faye's face, as he moved to Vex's side.

"Who was that?" Faye heard Vex ask Brynjolf, gesturing with a nod of her head to Faye as the two left the training room. Obviously, the woman hadn't recognized her with her hood down.

"Nobody," Brynjolf muttered in response, never seeing the pained look that flickered to life on the Breton's face as his words tugged at a very vulnerable part of her.

As soon as they turned the corner and vanished from sight, Faye staggered back to lean against the wall and let out the breath she'd been holding. Something… something inside of her was breaking. Slowly. Painfully. The last time she'd felt such… such anguish… was when she was eight years old and she'd watched the life leave her mother's emerald eyes as her blood soaked Faye's cotton dress.

The Breton lifted a tremulous hand to her face as she held onto the wall for dear life, her eyes shedding blistering, heart-wrung tears. She'd thought this had been it, her chance with him. She'd thought he'd finally seen Vex for what she was, saw how wrong the Nord woman was for him. She'd thought he'd finally noticed her, that he really saw her, and realized he belonged with her. She'd thought there was something between them.

She'd thought wrong.

He was just drunk. He was just using her to get back at Vex. She didn't mean anything to him. She never did.

Faye forced herself to swallow that bitter pill and she couldn't help the cry of anguish that escaped her lips as wretched emotions washed over her.

She'd wasted six years of her life being hopelessly and pathetically in love with a man who was in love with someone else. And now he knew how she felt. Now he would look at her everyday with pity in his eyes. And she'd have to see him… with her… everyday.

Anger and bitterness and regret coursed red-hot in the Breton's veins and her hands curled into trembling fists of fury.

Screw that.

She was done with it. All of it. Fed up. Finished. She'd pined for him for too long. It was about damn time she shed her chains to this place. To him. She needed a new town, a new home, a new life. She needed to start over, where no one knew her name, and leave this all behind her. She needed to break away. Now. Right now.

Seething, eyes burning with a deep green fire, Faye hastily pulled a piece of parchment and charcoal from her pack and wrote down four words before marching over to one of the practice dummies. She pulled a dagger from her boot and stabbed the parchment into the dummy's face. She smirked at her own words before pulling on her hood and leaving the practice room for good.

Brynjolf appeared minutes later in the practice room, looking for Faye, only to find the Breton gone and a note that read: Fuck you. I quit.

Faye slowly woke to the sound of logs popping in a fire and soft music playing, her dream of her first kiss slowing fading away. As the fog of sleep lifted from her mind, she stifled a groan. She had a splitting headache, her mouth was unbelievably dry, her skin was clammy, but her stomach didn't feel as though it had been ripped to shreds anymore.

Faye sat up slowly and put a hand to the bandages wrapped around her stomach. Her remarkably long blonde tresses spilled over her shoulders and wrapped around her waist. She lifted her eyes and looked around the room. The walls and floor were made of dark stone. Candlelight flickered around the room, highlighting an assortment of priceless pieces of art and exquisite décor scattered about. The room was neat and very clean – no dust, no clutter, no pieces of clothing on the floor. The bed she was in was large with luxurious cream-colored sheets. The room was so wonderfully warm from the open fire that cracked and popped in the nearby fireplace.

"Good morning, beautiful," came a familiar, masculine voice.

Faye whipped her head around to find the man she never wanted to see again. Brynjolf was sitting languidly in a wooden chair beside the bed, his hands laced behind his head, a lazy grin spread across his face. As she looked at him, a bittersweet ache bloomed in her heart. She hadn't seen him in eight months, not since the night she quit the guild. Her eyes narrowed when she took in his appearance. He was wearing his black guild master armor, which complimented his pale green eyes. His flaming locks were longer now, she noted, resting at his shoulders, and he had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days.

"Where am I?" Faye asked quietly, unsure of how to act in his presence – this man who was her first love and first heartbreak.

Sea green eyes peered closely at her from under stray locks of rust-colored hair. "Guild Master's private quarters at the thieves guild headquarters."

"So, your room," she amended dryly. Faye felt a slight chill and looked down to find herself completely naked. She squeaked and quickly pulled the sheet up to cover herself.

"Damn, I rather liked the free peep show you were giving me, lass," Brynjolf said with a wicked smirk on his face as his eyes remained on her chest.

"Pervert," she muttered as she picked a piece of lint off the sheet and flicked it away, her cheeks blushing a furious shade of red.

He chuckled. "Only for you."

Her eyes flickered to him guardedly, lips set in a firm line. Was he… was he hitting on her when he was still with Vex? Gods, he was more of an asshole than she remembered. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days."

"Three days…" Faye whispered to herself. Three days ago she was in the Temple of Mara, in her wedding dress, about to marry one of her dearest friends. And then Vilkas… memories of him and her together came rushing back to her and she had to close her eyes to rid herself of the lascivious images that assaulted her mind. She felt heat bloom on her cheeks in response to her memories. She shouldn't be thinking of such things right now. They were too close to her heart, and too heartrending. "So, it was you who rescued me?"

He rubbed his jaw. "Aye. I saw you running like a scared little field mouse from that wolf. Figured I should do something. Though, to be honest, I didn't know it was you at the time."

Faye opened her eyes to find Brynjolf staring at her, intently, as if sketching the details of her face to memory with his eyes. Faye started to grow uneasy under his heavy gaze. "What?" She finally blurted out self-consciously.

Brynjolf blinked and seemed to come back to himself from whatever trance he seemed to have been in. "Sorry, lass, it's just... I've never seen you without your hood on before."

Faye snorted. He'd seen her face before. He'd just been too drunk at the time to remember it. The memories of that night only made her bitter and resentful. They were like poison. She forced them from her mind.

"Anyways, that's why I didn't recognize you when you were being chased by that wolf," Brynjolf explained.

Faye couldn't help the blush that spread on her face and neck as she clutched the sheet closer to her naked chest, and responded wryly, "And now you've seen all of me."

An impish grin formed on his lips and there was a strange glint in his pale green eyes that made her involuntarily shiver. "Aye, now I have."

She glared at him, accusingly. She hated that look, hated how it still had an effect on her. Gods, she hated how he could still get under her skin after everything she'd done to rid herself of the feelings she harbored for him. Her eyes tightened, becoming dangerous, and her words came out rigid and clipped, "So, Brynjolf, there'd better be a good reason as to why I'm naked in your bed?"

His eyes glinted mischievously. "Don't worry, lass. I mostly had honorable intentions." He suppressed the chuckle that wished to escape him at the nasty glare she was giving him. "I had to clean those gashes on your stomach before I could tend to them. I bathed you and then wrapped your stomach after treating it with herbs. I also had you drink a few healing potions, so you should be completely healed by tomorrow."

Her anger faded slightly. "I guess I should thank you."

With a crooked grin he answered, "I guess you should."

She smiled graciously at him. "Thank you."

Brynjolf's hand lifted and rested gently on her knee on top of the thin sheet, his smile warm and his eyes soft. "Of course, lass."

Her pulse sped up. The soft pressure of his warm hand resting upon her knee consumed her awareness. Faye tried to deny the way his genuine smile, soft eyes, and gentle touch made her feel. She figured old habits died hard. "So, what did you do with my clothes?"

Brynjolf's hand pulled away from her knee and Faye let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. The guild master stood and walked over to his dresser. "What? This thing?" He asked holding up her ruined wedding dress.

Faye grimaced at the ghastly sight of it. It had been a gift from Farkas, the only gift she'd ever been given and the only clothing she had beside her armor, and now look at it. It was ruined. It had three large gashes in it from where the dragon had slashed her stomach and was covered in her dried blood. Faye tried not to think of the other stains she knew were on it from being with Vilkas.

Brynjolf looked down at the dress in his hands. "So… what do you want me to do with it?"

Faye tore her watering eyes from the dress. She didn't deserve that dress, not after what she'd done. "Burn it."

Brynjolf shrugged and tossed it into the fire. Faye watched the flames devour the white silk. "What were you doing in a white dress anyway?" Brynjolf asked offhandedly as he fell into the chair beside the bed again.

Faye cleared her throat. "It was my wedding dress."

The Nord blanched as his mind skidded to a halt. He blinked several times at the Breton, as his mind seemed to cave in on itself. Once her words truly sank in and made sense to him, he exploded, "Your WHAT?!"

Her eyes continued to watch the flames. "You heard me."

When no response came for some time, her forest green eyes slid to his. His face was white, as if all the blood had been drained from it, his mouth was slightly open, and he seemed to have stopped breathing. "Does that mean... that... that you're...?" Brynjolf uttered ineloquently, which was unusual for him.

"I didn't get married."

Faye saw his broad shoulders sag in relief, color returning to his face. "What happened?"

Her eyes fell to her lap. "I don't want to talk about it."

Brynjolf frowned thoughtfully. "So… you were going to get married... without telling me?"

Her gaze lifted to meet his, her face hard and her eyes cold. "Yes. And why do you care anyway? It's not like I mean anything to you. You made that perfectly clear the last time I saw you."

His eyes flashed. "How can you say that to me?"

She shrugged, feigning indifference. "Because it's true."

"You know nothing of the truth," he hissed with indignation. "And do you wanna know why, lass? Because you never wished to learn it! You have refused to speak to me for the past eight months and have returned all my letters!"

"Because I do not wish to hear your lies!" Faye shot back, emerald eyes burning with ire. "You are the master of deceit, deception, and manipulation. You wield words like they are swords. I do not wish to be pierced by them, again!"

"What you know is wrong!" Brynjold shouted, his strong hands shooting out, grabbing her upper arms and shaking her, wanting to force the truth into her thick, stubborn skull. "You ran from something you did not understand! If you'd just give me a fucking second to explain everything you'll know that you've been wrong about-!"

"Shut up!" Faye shrieked, her legs kicking wildly as she twisted and jerked violently out of his hold. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

Brynjolf reluctantly released her. Faye quickly reeled in her temper, not wanting to get into this now. She sighed and bowed her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. The tension behind her eyes was building and starting to form a migraine. "If we're going to fight, Brynjolf, then I'm going to leave."

Faye started when she felt long fingers curl around her wrist, gently pulling her hand away from her face. "Don't." His voice was barely a whisper.

Faye looked up at him. "Don't what?"

"Leave." His face was so open, so vulnerable, his light green eyes pleading. "Please…" Brynjolf whispered again as he released her wrist, his fingers lacing with her own. "Stay."

Faye's gaze lowered to their joined hands. His skin was rough and calloused, much tanner than her own, and his hand dwarfed hers in comparison. Keeping their fingers entwined, he turned their combined hands over and placed a lingering kiss on the palm of her hand. Those beseeching eyes lifted to hers again as he placed her palm on his cheek, his hand resting on top of her own. "Stay."

Faye's eyes softened and a small smile graced her pink lips as she cupped his cheek. His panicked and fearful expression melted into one of warmth and affection as he leaned into her touch. She splayed her fingers and lightly dragged her fingertips down his cheek, feeling the slight scrape of stubble against the pads of her fingers. In that moment she knew it was true: you never truly get over your first love.

Coming back to herself, the Breton quickly pulled her hand from his skin and folded her hands in her lap, biting her lip.

"You must be starving, lass," he uttered in a low voice edged with tension and rigidity, the hand that had touched her flexing involuntarily at his side. "Let's go to my place for lunch. I'll make you roasted chicken, rosemary potatoes, and snowberry pie - your favorite. How bout it?"

Her eyebrows rose. "You bought Honeyside Manor?"

His bottle green eyes softened on her. "Aye. Just like I told you I would."

Faye smiled brightly at him. "Congratulations, Brynjolf. I know how much that house means to you."

"To us, lass. To us," he uttered, his voice filled with so much meaning and promise.

A moment of hesitation drew a frown from the girl. Why did he keep saying things like that? Did he enjoy teasing her with something she couldn't have? Not like she still wanted him anyway. She'd forced herself to start a new life, to get over him, and had fallen in love with Vilkas. Too bad he'd also left her the moment she'd kissed him for a Nord woman. That was the pattern in her love life. It seemed life had a cruel sense of humor, giving her the thing she always wanted just to rip it from her moments later. Twice.

"Come on, lass. I'll show it to you."

Faye shook her head. "I can't. I need to go to Jorrvaskr to see the Companions as soon as possible," she said before mumbling to herself, "even if they all hate me right now."

He tilted his head to the side. "Why would they hate you?"

Faye sighed, miserably. "Because I hurt one of their own."

"What? Oh… he's one of them. The groom, I mean. He's a Companion, isn't he?"

"Yes," she whispered as her eyes went to the fire. "I hurt him, Brynjolf. The look on his face…" Her voice caught and her eyes burned with fresh tears. "The Companions must hate me for what I did. They probably want anything to do with me now. He probably never wants to see me again. I know that the best thing to do is to resign from being a Companion. I'm sure that's what they all want me to do, anyway. And even though it breaks my heart, I can accept that. I deserve it." Her eyes met his, so full of sadness and shame that something inside of him wrenched painfully. "But I have to apologize to him. He deserves that much from me. So, I'm going to leave immediately, face them all, and apologize for what I've done."

The Nord turned his head, his eyes shifting restlessly, a calculating look on his face as his mind raced. After a few minutes, his eyes met hers again. "You know, it might be beneficial for you to stay here for a few more days."

She eyed him quizzically. "Why?"

"Because this groom of yours may need a few days to cool his blood."

Faye gaped at him before shouting, "But I need to apologize to him. It can't wait. I feel as if I'm burning alive with guilt!"

The redhead held his hands up in a placating manner. "I understand, lass. But the worst thing would be for you to return and have him say things he doesn't mean simply because he was still angry with you."

Faye bit her lip as she thought. Maybe it was a good idea to give Farkas some time. Maybe he couldn't stand the sight of her right now. Maybe none of them could. The image of Vilkas standing with his arm around Aela's waist entered Faye's mind and she felt a piece of her heart fracture. Maybe she wasn't the one ready to see them just yet. Maybe she needed some time to close the gaps in her heart again before she faced them.

"Alright," Faye muttered, nodding. "I'll stay for a few days before heading to Whiterun."

His lips curled into a victorious grin. "Good. Now, get dressed, lass. I want to show off my new place."

Faye looked at him questioningly as the only article of clothing she had was now burning in the fireplace. "What do I wear?"

"I rather like you in nothing, lass," Brynjolf answered slyly while eyeing her like a piece of candy he wished to roll around in his mouth. Faye glared at him and he grinned in response, liking the wildfire that was dancing across her forest green eyes. "Fine, fine. Your armor's over there," the Nord said with a wave of his hand at the chair in the corner that had her armor resting neatly on top of it. Her pack was lying on the floor beside the chair and her weapons were leaning against the wall. "Vipir retrieved your stuff for you, though he never said from where."

And for that, Faye was thankful. She didn't want to get into a discussion with Brynjolf about the reason why she had to flee the Temple of Mara without first grabbing her armor, weapons, and pack. She wouldn't be able to stand the look of disgust and revulsion on his face when he learned that she'd slept with her betrothed's brother on her wedding day. She wouldn't be able to stomach it, not from him. She'd have to thank Vipir for his discretion next time she saw him. As Faye eyed her armor, she tilted her head to the side and said, "It looks different."

He laughed. "That's because it's clean, lass."

She gaped at him mockingly. "You, the great and powerful guild master, washed my armor?"

"Aye, but technically it's my armor. I can't believe I used to fit in that thing." He flashed her a roguish grin. "And I can't believe you still wear it." He leaned into her and Faye clutched the sheet tighter to her naked chest. "Like having my scent on you?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Brynjolf. It doesn't smell like depravity anymore," Faye uttered harshly, but the blush that had risen on her cheeks contradicted her words.

He grinned boyishly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "That's not what I smell like, and you know it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said I smell like cinnamon and juniper berries," he answered, lightly grazing the back of her hand with a sly touch of his thumb.

"I did not!" She exclaimed, pulling her hand away.

He smirked. "You did. Three days ago."

"Regardless," Faye continued, flustered at having admitted such a thing to him in her nearly unconscious state. "I wear your armor because it's the only armor I own. That's it."

He gave her a pointed look. "You could get new armor, lass. So why haven't you?"

Faye sighed. "I have no money. I spent every last septim I had on… assassins."

He barked out a laugh. "What?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "I hired the Dark Brotherhood for something. Companion business."

"You know, there's a set of brand spankin' new Nightingale armor and weapons just waiting for you. If you were to accept them, of course."

Faye's expression became stern. "I went over this with Karliah. My answer is no."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "We need your help with Mercer, lass. We're running out of time."

"Here we go," Faye grumbled to herself as she folded her arms as well and leaned back against the headboard.

"Karliah and I can't kill Mercer on our own. We need you. We know his plans. At the end of the week, he plans to steal the Eyes of the Falmer. We have to stop him, and kill him for his treachery. The bastard almost killed you for fuck sake! I can't just let that go!"

Faye gave the Nord a sharp look. "You want me to swear to protect Nocturnal and her shrines, even after death. I can't do that, Brynjolf."

The Guild Master ran a hand through his deep crimson hair. "It won't change anything, lass. We may become Nightingales, but in our hearts we'll still be thieves and we'll always be damn good at what we do."

"I'm sorry, Brynjolf," she muttered and shook her head. "I can't become a Nightingale. I care about what happens to my soul."

Brynjolf rolled his eyes and huffed. "You've been hanging around those Companions for too long."

Blonde eyebrows pulled together. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're not some grandiose, honor-bound warrior, Faye. You're a thief - a rogue who lives in the shadows, is thrilled by the heist, thirsts for gold, fights dirty, wields deception, and cheats the odds. You can't change that. It's in your blood. Just like it's in mine." His lips lifted into a tiny smirk as he leaned his upper body forward, arms still folded, his pale green eyes dancing in the light of the fire. "You're just like me, lass. We're two of a kind. We've got something, you and I," he finished in a low and intimate voice.

Faye's expression instantly turned cold and stony as her mind returned to the memory of her first kiss like a tongue to a chipped tooth. Did he think she was still pinning for him? Did he honestly believe that she'd been hung up on him for the past eight months? That all he had to do was flash her that winning smile and throw a few pick-up lines her way and she'd swoon at his feet?

Well, he had another thing coming.

Bristling, Faye's hardened gaze fixed on the guild master. "You don't know me, Brynjolf. Don't make the mistake of assuming you do. Once upon a time I wished for nothing but your attention, your time, your affection. I made the mistake of believing you actually felt something for me before. I was naïve then, but I'm not anymore. Believe me when I say that I will not be making that same mistake again," she uttered with great acrimony, eyes as cold as ice. "You care nothing for me. Don't insult me by pretending you do."

Brynjolf's grin faded instantly, his eyes becoming hollow, his lips set in a firm, thin line. "I care for nothing else," he answered evenly.

The Breton averted her gaze. She hated how he still rankled her. She'd already forced herself to come to terms with the fact that Brynjolf had returned to Vex months ago. But the fresh remembrance of the heartbreak, jealousy, and vexation she'd felt after he'd kissed her was still able to enkindle bitterness and resentment within her, even after all these months.

"Sure. Whatever," Faye mumbled with a roll of her eyes. Shaking off the memories, she stood swiftly with the sheet wrapped around her to cover her nakedness. A wave of vertigo crashed into her. She put a hand to her forehead as she swayed a little, long blonde tresses spilling over her slender shoulders.

Brynjolf moved swiftly to her side and grabbed her hand to keep her steady. The vexation in the Nord's face had evaporated, replaced by a look of such profound concern that the Breton was taken aback by it. "Are you alright, lass?"

Faye ripped her hand away from his as if his touch had burned her, green eyes flashing with ire. "I'm fine," she grumbled, her fingers digging into her collarbone as she clutched the sheet even tighter to her body.

Brynjolf eyed her skeptically, unconvinced that she was fine, but decided not to push. "Look, there's a lot we need to talk about, but it can wait. You haven't had a real meal in three days. You need to eat."

Faye nodded.

"Good," he said as he turned and headed for the door. "Now, get dressed and we'll head over to my place for lunch and a hot bath. I'll be at my desk. Come get me when you're ready to go," he finished, closing the door behind him.

A smile formed on Brynjolf's lips. For the past eight months he'd feared that he was too late, that the love she had for him was gone forever. But right now he had hope. He had a few days with her. A few days to clear up the mess he'd made and explain what really happened. A few days to show her that she belonged with the thieves guild. A few days to show her that he was the one for her. He knew the reason she didn't get married was because deep down she still loved him. He just had to make her realize it. And she would. He'd make sure of it.

Faye's smile slowly faded, as she stood alone in Brynjolf's room. She was still rattled by all that had just transpired between them. Being around him was just as nerve-racking as it was before. Damn him. She loathed how he still had that power over her. It wasn't fair.

Not wishing to think of her first love anymore, Faye moved to the chair with her armor and let the sheet fall. She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror beside the chair. Her fingers brushed over the now unmarred skin on her stomach. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she tried to see what Vilkas saw when he took her body and soul, mindless with lust. The health potions had cleared all the marks he'd made on her body, but she could still feel the way his lips pulled on her skin, the way his nails dug into her hips, the way his fingers pinched and stroked, the way his teeth grazed her flesh.

Heat suddenly blossomed within her. That warmth began to flourish as her hand absentmindedly trailed down her stomach, her mind lost to the memories of Vilkas worshipping her body on the wooden vanity. Her eyelids fluttered shut and her head tipped back when her fingers brushed between her legs, her lips parting slightly as she drew in a sharp breath. Behind her eyelids she saw Vilkas' face as he took her, heard his husky voice whispering in her ear, tasted his lips on her tongue, felt his heart beat in concert with her own…

Faye heard a low shuddering moan and her eyes snapped open as she realized it was her own voice making the needy sound. She suddenly realized what she was doing and her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped into them.

What was she doing?! She'd never done anything like that before?! And doing… that… while thinking of Vilkas?! That was the last thing she needed to be doing! He was gone. Out of her grasp forever. He was Aela's. He was never hers. Always Aela's. Forever Aela's.

Blushing furiously and angry with herself for thinking about him, Faye quickly put her thief armor back on, trying desperately to ignore the terrible ache within her that only Vilkas could fulfill. Her time spent with Vilkas had been so short, mere hours, yet there was a lingering fire within her even days later, as if he'd struck a match inside of her, lighting a flame for him and him alone. But she was simply longing for something she could never have. She didn't know what had moved him to kiss her in the first place, but she sensed it wouldn't move him again.

Her vision blurred, as she suddenly felt discarded, hollow, and lonely. Faye shook her head and forced her mind to think of something else. Once she was dressed in her thief armor, she quickly gathered her pack and weapons. She walked out Brynjolf's bedroom and looked around. She'd never thought she'd ever be back here at the thieves guild headquarters.

After she'd quit the guild, she'd been arrested by the Imperial Legion and sentenced to death in Helgen. Of course, she'd been ironically saved by Alduin and later found out she was Dragonborn. She'd decided then that she didn't want to be a thief anymore. She wanted to be something better. She wanted to be strong, virtuous, and honorable. She wanted to be worthy of the title Dragonborn. She wanted to be a good guy. She wanted to be a hero. So, she'd joined the Companions. It was there, with the Companions, that she'd gotten her first real taste of what a family felt like. The life she'd build with them… it meant everything to her. And even if she wasn't welcome back to Jorrvaskr, even if they kicked her out of the Companions, and even if none of them ever spoke to her again, she still couldn't get herself to regret being with Vilkas. Being with him… it had been the single greatest moment of her life. And even though she'd just been a means of venting out his sexual impulses and nothing else, she still didn't regret it. She never would. She'd gotten a piece of him. A small piece, but a piece nonetheless. And even though she would only get to have him that one time, she'd always hold the memories close to her heart, never letting them fade away.

Faye pulled her hood over her head, hiding her tear-stained face from the world as she'd done ever since she was eight years old and taken to the orphanage in Riften.

She would return to Jorrvaskr in a few days. She'd apologize to Farkas, and hopefully douse the burning guilt buried deep within her soul. She'd apologize to the other Companions as well. And… she'd see Vilkas. Her heart roused with the thought. She knew it would kill her to see him back with Aela, but she couldn't ignore how her heart and soul yearned unremittingly to see his face. If they told her to leave and to never return, she would. But she wouldn't hide here, she'd face them, and pray to the gods that they'd be able to find it within their hearts to forgive her.