~Authors Note~
Hello again~! All of the alerts were a wonderful thing to come home to after my busy 'vacation'. I hardly spent more than 6 hours in my hotel room other than to sleep, and I loved it. Got some inspiration stirring from working as well! I wrote this on the car ride home, since I had 16 hours to kill. It's the start of, hopefully, longer chapters.
Valentyne is, in fact, 19. I won't say much of anything else about the matter, for his secret may possibly be at risk of being revealed if I do.
The last chapter, I forgot to mention, held a Romeo and Juliet reference in case anyone caught it. There will be a few more here and there, since I do love it so. I will cease my mindless banter here, and I hope you enjoy chapter seven!
Yours Eternally, Erin
"Would you quit your pacing, Bryn? You'll wear the stone down to nothing if you keep it up!" Once again, Delvin's words went straight through the Nord without him even taking notice. Sighing, Delvin gave up and left him to get a drink. His friend had been getting more anxious as each day passed without a single word from Valentyne. When they had heard the news of the boy's success from Maven, they were filled with such excitement that they could hardly wait to congratulate him. So they waited… and waited… and waited… Finally, they were beginning to suspect that he had found his untimely death on the trip home.
Brynjolf hadn't slept well since Valentyne had left a week earlier. Even when he passed out from exhaustion it was restless. If anything were to happen to him… Brynjolf didn't want to think about it. He should have tried harder to convince Mercer to order Sapphire to accompany Valentyne. At least then he would have had a means of protection. If Valentyne didn't return soon, he'd have to explain to Durga and make a run for it immediately after to avoid any private body parts from being cut off. He shivered at the thought. He could see her as he paced, her deadly silver eyes burrowing into his heart and stopping it dead. So long life, it was nice working with you.
His legs were aching from constant use, but he didn't seem to notice. He bit at his lip; one of the habits he had picked up from Valentyne. It annoyed him that he didn't know where the boy was. He knew he wasn't dead. No, Brynjolf had doubted his talents enough to know to expect the unexpected. Was Valentyne showing a humorous side of himself? Was this just a sick joke? If it was, it sure as hell wasn't funny anymore.
Running his hands through his uncombed hair, he sighed. He was debating on whether or not to go looking for him. Mercer wouldn't like it, but then again he didn't like Brynjolf being a walking Draugr either.
"If I didn't know better," Mercer had said. "I'd say you actually cared for the runt." Luckily, Mercer did know better, and had sent him away to get a drink at the Flagon. Brynjolf had yet to make it there. The taste of mead was tempting, but his worry rang strong. Gods, what was wrong with him?
"Bryn! Come in here, we got a surprise for you!" Delvin's voice finally reached him, and Brynjolf grumbled in annoyance. What kind of 'surprise' could possible please him? Nothing, he imagined. Unless it was news of Valentyne's arrival, he didn't want anything to do with it.
When he walked into the Flagon, he noticed most of the Guild crowded around a single table. Brynjolf, with narrow eyes, walked up to them, moving the people away to look down at the boy smiling up at him.
"Hello, dear Brynjolf. You seem unrested, is there something that plagues you?" Valentyne cooed, earning a few snickers from the crowd. Brynjolf grunted in response, arms folded in front of his chest as he watched him. Valentyne seemed to be in perfect shape; no cuts or bruises to be seen. "As you can see, I am in a state of perfect health."
"Why make such a statement lad?" Brynjolf eyed him carefully, watching a bit of a devious smile reach his face.
"I would have to be blind to not see the worry wrought upon your face." Twitching slightly at the laughter that filled the tavern, Brynjolf narrowed his eyes more. First he disappeared for an entire week without a word of warning, and then Valentyne decided he would test his luck a little more. It wasn't looking too promising for him in the near future.
"At least I can find my way around Riften without accidentally stepping into the wrong house," Brynjolf retorted, causing the smug look to wipe clean off Valentyne's face. Good. "Accidentally wander off the only path back here, lad? Or were you just sitting back and smelling the flowers?" His voice was complete disproval as he made Valentyne shrink farther into his chair. Brynjolf would certainly let the boy have it for making him worry about plans of his own funeral.
"Aw don't chastise the boy Bryn," Delvin said, patting Valentyne's shoulder in a reassuring manner. Brynjolf glared over at him, telling him that he wasn't helping any. Delvin shook his head. "You haven't even let him explain himself." He watched them for a minute, and finally Brynjolf sighed, his anger slowly receding at Valentyne's frowning pout. He held his stern gaze, though, as he pulled a chair over and sat down in front of him. Grabbing a tankard from Vekel, Brynjolf told Valentyne to go on with his story with a stiff nod.
"Where to begin?" Valentyne questioned himself, leaning over a bit on his chair as he looked upward, a method of thinking he usually did. His tale wasn't horribly long, but it had to be edited a bit here and there for his own sake. There were certain things the Guild wasn't to know about his… process of getting in and out of Goldenglow. If they suspected his altering, they didn't show it, just waited quietly for him to begin. "Hm, yes. Getting into the place was quite simple really. In my history I have… well, I have dealt with elves of his kind, per say. I managed to snatch up his key for his safe while we were in a very agonizing conversation on his political stand-point in this little civil war. I will not dilly-dally with the precise details, but let us just say if I hear one more word about the Aldmeri Dominion or the Empire, I shall not be very happy.
"But, getting back on track, once I left his presence I found my way down to the cellar. Getting there was a tad bit difficult, but I managed. After the documents from the safe were stashed away- oh, which I have with me, I shall hand them to you after, Brynjolf. Where was I? Yes, locating the beehives. No problem, really. It was dark out, must have been nearing the tenth hour by then. I had been taught a bit of magic as a child, so when I arrived at my targets, I quickly did away with three of them. And I was done, I thought myself to be in the clear. That was my mistake. While sneaking away, I did not come to realize that one of the mercenaries had been following me, and suddenly I was dodging away from a blade. It dug rather deep into my side, and I was just barely able to run off.
"I did not want to be a burden to any of you, so I stayed away until I could heal myself into decency." As he neared the end, Brynjolf couldn't help but shake his head. Valentyne would be the death of him yet. Though he had to give him a bit of credit, even while he was bleeding out he still seemed to only have a mind set to make everyone else happy. It was a redeeming quality, one that very few carried.
Valentyne stared up at Brynjolf, seeking approval as he usually did after completing a task. It took him a minute, but finally he sighed. "Well, as long as you made it back in one piece and have completed what was asked of you, I see no reason to worry about it anymore," Brynjolf said. Valentyne grinned, with a sly look on his face. Brynjolf raised an eyebrow to this, but eventually dismissed it when the chatter began to pick up. Many people questioned Valentyne on his secret of how to get in. He simply brushed them off, telling them that, "If I were to tell you, it would not be a secret now would it?"
Vex was the only one who pressed him any farther on the matter, but she too gave up eventually. She had also been a bit worried about letting Valentyne travel by his self, though she didn't show it as much as Brynjolf had. Nor would she admit her slight sense of jealousy towards him. She had spent so long scoping that area out, and to find out that he simply waltzed right in through the front door was nothing less than aggravating for her. Brynjolf could tell that she was trying her best not to hold it against him, but he could see the slight furrow of her brows when she thought no one was watching.
The night went on rather quietly after that. Valentyne continued to sip at the cider that had been purchased special for him with only a few others talking to him. It wasn't until later in the night, when each member had indulged themselves in a few drinks that the peaceful quality disappeared. Vipir was the first one to ask Valentyne to play something on his flute, and then Thryn asked to hear one of his favorite tales. Brynjolf just watched, still trying to please himself with the fact that Valentyne was back safe and sound.
Valentyne had stayed away because he didn't want to be a burden to the Guild. A burden. By now he had proved himself to be more than useful, yet he still refused to realize it. Was the boy's self-worth that small? No, he was too prideful to be that way. Maybe it was just that he never wanted to have anyone worry about him, or to give him their pity. That would make sense, from what Brynjolf had noticed Valentyne hated to be pitied upon by anyone. He would always puff up his chest whenever someone looked upon him with a look of worry, or would narrow his gaze at someone who would begin to rant about his wellbeing. Whatever the case, whoever the person, Valentyne would not have their pity by any means. It was like a cup of stale milk to him.
There could have been another possibility, Brynjolf realized. What if he didn't want to feel anymore apart of the Guild then he already did? The idea hurt, and Brynjolf shifted uneasily in his chair as he took another sip of his mead. That also made sense, even more so than his previous idea. He had noticed every look of disdain he gave a new task, as if he had been shot with an arrow every time one was brought to him. The way his shoulders had begun to slouch since he first arrived also did not fail to go by him. The weight of what he was doing was proving to be a relentless thing, disrupting his sleep and rendering his appetite inexistent. It was a surprise that he had yet to just blow everything off and leave to stay at the Bee and Barb until Durga's return. Although he refused to take any money for his completed assignments, Brynjolf imagined that such a well-kept lad like Valentyne had to have had quite a bit of extra money in his coin purse. In fact, Brynjolf had snuck a peek while Valentyne was off collecting a debt, and from an estimated guess he found he had more than enough to rent out a room for a few months and still get three meals a day.
Brynjolf hadn't questioned him about it and had just brushed it off, not wanting to get the look of disapproval from the boy he could give so well. Yet sometimes he still wondered why he kept all of it. Brynjolf only ever saw him spend any of it on the bare necessities. Even when he looked at something wistfully in the market, he would look away and continue on his way almost painfully, as if an idea like that was such a boat of ludicrous that he couldn't believe he had thought it.
"Come on, V, tell us a different story!" Rune had an arm around the boy, his eyes glazed over from the amount of alcohol he had consumed. Valentyne had tried to tell one of his usual tales about a daft guard and his trials, but had been immediately brushed off by the group. Valentyne looked up at Rune sheepishly, and it seemed that just Brynjolf, who was the only sober one other than Vex, noticed the way he flinched at the sudden contact. He wasn't known for being touchy-feely, and the one time he had hugged Brynjolf in his fit of happiness had been the last time he was seen that close to anyone.
"Yeah, V! How 'bout a romantic story this time," Vipir said, snickering at the strange look he was given by Valentyne. "I'm sure the ladies would appreciate it." The teasing coo he gave towards Vex and Tonilia caused the room to fill with laughter, and both girls sneered at him.
"Oh I'm sure, Vipir. But let's not forget that we all know a certain someone has a soft spot for The Lusty Argonian Maid." Tonilia grinned at the way his face had heated up when the laughter had turned on him. Valentyne only smiled, glancing back and forth at the two parties uneasily. He fiddled with the string around his neck, wishing himself scarce at that moment.
"Ah whatever," Vipir retorted drunkenly, turning back to Valentyne. "But really, V, why not give it a try? We'd all love to hear what you come up with." The room agreed, putting Valentyne into more of a tight corner. He gnawed at his lip a bit, but kept his smile on his face.
"I am not so sure, I have not ever told a story of romance," He muttered softly, only to be bombarded by loud protest. Valentyne was having a hard time fighting them all of with his soft words, the other voices over powering him. "Really, everyone, I do not think…"
"Come on, lad, give it a shot." Everyone glanced over at Brynjolf, having forgotten that he had even been there in the first place. Valentyne stared at him for a few moments, and finally his stubborn answer subsided. He couldn't say no to Brynjolf of all people, he had already done so much for him and to deny him was like denying his father. Sighing softly, the room let out a loud cheer and gathered around him like a group of small children. Valentyne gave Brynjolf one last wary glance, the kind he would give him when he was given a new debt to collect. Brynjolf just grinned at him, sitting back in his chair and listening to him as he began.
Our story shall start with a young girl, born and raised in the bustling city of Markarth. She was a lovely little thing, with bouncing baby curls and eyes the color of a cloudless sky. Her family was wealthy enough, with a fairly large reputation in the Reach. She was given everything a little darling such as herself could possibly ask for; a beautiful home, three warm meals a day, many lovely dresses and toys, and a family that cared for her deeply. As she aged, she grew to be a fiery little thing with a mind set for adventure. She would chase bugs deep into the outside forests, only to be scolded by the guards for wandering too far and getting lost. There was not a day that went by that she did not arrive home coated in a thick layer of dirt.
The girl had the city as a whole wrapped around her petite little finger. Everyone looked out for her as if she were their own. The salesmen in the market would let her play with their wares, noblewomen would allow her to play her games of dress-up with their belongings, and even the Jarl had found a soft spot for her. It was a perfect scenario in every sense of the word. She was happy and loved beyond belief. What more could she possibly ask for?
She had many younger friends as well, but there were two that stood out beyond all the rest. Both were boys; an Imperial, who was a few years her elder, and an Altmer, who was the same age as herself. The girl was closest to the Altmer, for the Imperial enjoyed simply watching over them and keeping the two out of harm's way. They were wonderful to her, and only added to her happiness.
It was not until she began to reach into her older years that problems began to occur. The closeness she had with the Altmer began to grow stronger; some even dared to call them smitten for one another. They were inseparable, never seen outside their homes without the other. But where was the Imperial, you ask? He was still there, lurking in the shadows of their happiness with a scowl on his face. His jealousy was apparent to everyone but the Altmer and the girl. Their hushed gossip went on deaf ears around them, for their blissfulness eluded the truth. Nothing would break them down. They promised to forever live with one another no matter how much it would be frowned upon. Love was their blanket of safety, and it promised to forever keep them safe in its arms. They never suspected love to lie to them, they were only naïve children.
It was a dark morning when everything right shattered into everything wrong. It had happened late in the night; a murder. Yet, not just any murder of some drunken lunatic. No, it would not have bothered the girl if it had been so. The Gods had deceived them that day, and she knew it when she stared down into his death shrouded eyes. If there was such a misery to render someone incapable of doing anything, it found her. She cried… and cried… and cried until she could not muster a single tear. Until she was left bed ridden from an illness that ravaged her heart to bits. Until she could no longer manage the beautiful smile that so many had come to enjoy.
The city took pity on her, sent her tokens of their humblest apologies in an effort to bring back her happiness. There was nothing they could do to end her misery; she was too far past the edge to be saved. Ghosts plagued her dreams, rendering sleep impossible. They poisoned her food, causing her to vomit up everything she consumed. Soon her petite body grew frail, to the point where her own mother was afraid to touch her, believing that she would break.
The Imperial had watched her decline into oblivion. He longed to help her forsake her depression and to see the light in her eyes once more. The amount of adoration he felt towards her fueled his drive and he found himself hunting down the dogs that had caused all of it. Needless to say, he left none alive when he finally located them. When he was caught, the whole city came to watch him be carried away; even the girl that he had sinned for. When he managed to escape the hold on him to run for her, a group of men fought him off. He called for her, pleaded for her to understand. But she could only stare at him in horror. He was a monster of murderous intent, and that was all she could see of him now. It was an agonizing moment when they pulled him away, and when he looked back at her with one last bit of hope in his eyes, she could not even look at him.
It was after that day that she began to regain her health. She blamed herself for what had happened to her friend. If she had not allowed herself to fall so far into her despair, then he never would have done it. His worry and pity had driven him to it, and with it he had made himself mad. The girl never wanted that to happen again. It was a slow process, but eventually she was healthy enough to walk around by herself. Her happiness was back to a certain degree, but it was good enough for her family and friends. They knew that after everything she had dealt with that she would never truly be able to smile the way she once had.
When she turned 18 she and her family found out that their father had gotten caught up into the destructions of gambling. Almost all of their coin was gone, and the rest of it was claimed by a small group of thieves in which he owed a large debt to. He could not work, and soon they fell into poverty, barely being able to continue the upkeep on their home. The girl and her siblings did menial jobs around the city to try and help their financial situation, but it barely made a scratch on their debts. They sold heirlooms and expensive cloth, yet they still were falling faster from their pedestal. The fear of living on the streets consumed the girl, and she worried for her family. Without too much thought, she came to the conclusion that she had to leave or else her family would continue to suffer. She fled under the glare of the moon one night, taking the few belongings that still belonged to her and leaving only a note in her wake.
Weeks passed, yet still she traveled, picking up on any small task she could find. Exhaustion hung over her but still she would not stop her movements. Her family was counting on her, and no matter how scared she was she could not quit…
A loud 'ahem' stopped Valentyne mid-sentence, and everyone followed his gaze up to see Mercer glaring down at them. Vipir and Rune scurried out of the way, allowing their leader to walk up to Valentyne, who sat up straighter to try and seem bigger, but his eyes were still wider than normal.
"Why wasn't I told that you had returned?" Mercer growled, looming over Valentyne as he spoke. Unlike before, Valentyne did not completely sink down into his chair. He merely flinched, but the flare in his wide eyes alerted every one of his confidence. It wasn't a secret that Valentyne was not too fond of Mercer, everyone knew, even Mercer himself. Most just figured it was because Mercer was the leader to their little group of thieves, yet for Valentyne it was another matter entirely. He hardly even thought of Mercer as the leader, since he always got all tasks from Brynjolf. Mercer, to him, was everything he was against. He was moody, cruel, and just plain rude. He usually had to bite back snapping at him on his brief encounters with him. Even the sound of his voice was like a loud series of screeches in his ears, rendering him utterly annoyed. If it weren't for the way Mercer treated him, Valentyne would feel horrible for feeling the way he did for this man, but being called runt on a daily basis wasn't his favorite cup of tea.
"I was just about to alert you when I got a little tied up with my story telling. I do apologize." His smile seemed genuine enough, but the fake earnest was just beneath the surface. Mercer scoffed at him as he pulled out the paperwork he had stolen from Goldenglow. He took it from his hands, glancing over it quickly.
"Hm, I'll have to analyze this a bit more. For now, you may go back to whatever it was you were doing, and I suggest you don't let it come between the Guild's businesses again." The way Mercer just brushed off his hobby caused Valentyne to twitch. Brynjolf had to shoot him a look to calm himself when Mercer began to walk away, noticing the way his lips were turning into a small sneer. "Oh, and as soon as you wake tomorrow you are to go see Maven Black-Briar." That was all he said as he left, but it caused Valentyne to blink a few times. A few shot him unreadable glances, while others took this as their ticket to disband into the Cistern.
Brynjolf put a hand on his shoulder and was met with his uneasy gaze. Valentyne had heard of the Black-Briars, Maven especially. He had a right to be a little afraid of seeing her, but his soft question still made Brynjolf laugh at how serious he was being. "Shall I leave my burial plans with you then?"
"Don't worry, lad. If Maven wanted you dead you would already be in your grave." Valentyne mumbled something under his breath, but Brynjolf chose to ignore it. He gave his shoulder a tight squeeze and let go. "You might as well get in bed now before it gets too late. Don't want to be tired for tomorrow." Valentyne nodded, finishing up his cider that had long warmed by then. He handed the tankard to Vekel, thanking him with a soft smile and walking towards the Cistern, turning back to Brynjolf before going through the secret passage behind the wardrobe.
"I do apologize for causing you to fret, Brynjolf. Cross my heart, it shall not occur again." He smiled at him, and then disappeared behind the door with a gentle 'goodnight'. Brynjolf stood there for a few more minutes before sighing one last time, ordering one last tankard of mead. Maybe it was about time he left his own burial plans with someone.
