A/N: It's a longer chapter this time! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the encouraging couple of reviews, by the way! They really do give me a lot of motivation.
Ulfric
Cutting down the endless Draugr had helped ease his anger. His men fought valiantly alongside him, and only served to further his hope in his current mission. Ulfric took out a cloth and wiped down his blade, removing the dust and grime the undead left behind.
"My Jarl, I suggest that we take a break and rest in this room."
Ulfric nodded and proceeded to assist in setting up the bedrolls and fire pit. It had been a few days since they had entered the ruin. Slowly, they headed deeper into its bowels, exploring every inch of it. He didn't want to miss a single detail of the damned place. Laughter rang in his ears, pulling Ulfric's thought away from his planning for the next day of delving deeper into the ruins.
"…She was so smitten by me, that I'll bet she's still waiting for me to return!" one of the men exclaimed as the others were teasing him.
"Yeah, right! I'll bet she keeps her bed warm with the help of another man," another joked.
Laughter rang through the small room they had locked themselves in. They continued to jest and tease one another about women through cheerful banter. Ulfric tuned in and out of their conversation, smiling here and there; it was nice to see them lively despite the danger they were in. He felt a sting of pride because of their bravery.
"That reminds me," one chimed in, "I saw you, Jodlti, at the Candlehearth Hall getting sweet with Luaffyn. What do you have to say for yourself on that?"
The accused became flustered and his chest seemed to inflate, "Vernndir, I would never go near those Dunmer pests," he hissed. "The city would be much better off without those damn elves."
Ulfric's brow furrowed. The man's words struck a nerve in him. Those were common words tossed about by his people, but it had never been said in front of him so boldly. He brought a hand to his beard, stroking it as he thought. The Dragonborn had mentioned something along those lines when she had been brought before him in Windhelm weeks ago, he thought.
Damned woman. She should have just agreed and he would've been able to do this with her, rather than against her. His eyes fell on Jodlti, and Ulfric realized his men were looking at him. They were waiting for some response while the man who had made the Dunmer comment appeared remorseful.
"What are you staring at?" Ulfric asked.
"Well… The Dragonborn, she is a Dunmer. We expected you to say something since you've been trying so hard to get her to join your cause. She is the reason we're all in this ruin."
Ulfric released a low hum. "Your comment has helped me understand what she said before leaving Windhelm. My men desire nothing but Nords in their ranks." His voice came out as calm and collected, but his blood was boiling. Knowing that her words carried some truth made him feel like a fool.
"That's not true. Irileth of Whiterun is a fine warrior. It's only the Dunmer in Windhelm that are damn leeches," one growled in response.
"They wander the streets demanding that we give them more and more for free every day," another chimed in.
Ulfric frowned. Had the problem really gotten so bad in Windhelm? It reminded him of how Galmar was always slow to trust anyone but a Nord that tried to join the Stormcloak cause. Shaking his head, Ulfric refused to try and convince himself otherwise; it was a problem that needed to be addressed, but at a later time. Once Skyrim is his, he decided, then he would work to make it a better place than it was.
The men continued sharing stories after griping about the residents of the Grey Quarter in Windhelm. Soon after, the group had fallen asleep. Ulfric lay in his bedroll, tossing and turning. Clenching his teeth, he tried to stray his mind far from the Dragonborn, but it would wander in one giant circle, leading back to her feet. Running a hand down his face, he resisted the urge to groan.
"Your cause lacks strength if all it takes is one person before it falls to shambles."
Fuming, he wondered how she knew exactly what to say in order to make his anger swell. By the time his men woke from their short slumber, he had not slept. They were getting closer to the deepest part of the crypt, and there he would find the Word that would bring that damned woman to her knees. He was as eager for the war to end as any citizen of Skyrim, and her being by his side would bring it to a swift and glorious ending.
He helped his men pack and they continued their exploration of the ruins.
Just before they set up camp, they came across a door requiring a claw. Fortunately, they had found it amongst the rubble in a previous area of the ruins. Luck was on his side, Ulfric concluded. Talos was guiding him. After changing the rings on the door, he used the claw to unlock it. The unsettling rumble of the door being swallowed by the ground reminded him that the greatest depth of the ruin was a short distance before them.
As the last of the door sank into the ground, braziers and sconces lit along the walls of the room beyond, leaving no dark corners. A stale, cool breath of air passed through them, carrying faint traces of decay and wax. It was a large chamber with a tall ceiling that made the vast space seem like it was yawning as they cautiously stepped over the door. On either side were ledges lined with thrones and there were benches arranged ceremoniously around the room, all pointed toward the Word Wall. On the far end from them was an altar with the Word Wall behind it. It looked like a hall of worship centered around the Word Wall.
Much like how man worked to destroy Alduin, those loyal to the World-Eater worked exceptionally hard to find a way to defeat the Dragonborn. By the looks of the walls, they had found a way but were stopped before they had the chance to use it. Slowly, the men advanced toward the Word Wall, expecting to be ambushed. They relaxed when none came. They were safe.
Ulfric ran his fingers along the wall. Pulling them away, he felt the dust on his fingertips. The crackles of a blue fire caught his attention from the corner of his eye, as one word in particular began to glow. Unlike most Walls, this one contained the entire Shout that would bind the Dragonborn to his servitude.
"Can you learn it, my Jarl?" One asked as he sheathed his sword.
"I will need a day, but I will learn it. The Greybeards blessed me with their knowledge before I left. All I must do is master it." Yes, it would be no different than when he had trained with them many years ago.
Having confidence in the fact that the ruin was cleared out, the men celebrated with the small amount of mead they had brought with them for the journey. Meanwhile, Ulfric leaned against the altar, studying the word until there was a tremor caused by his whisper.
Silver
"It'll be alright, lass."
His words barely pierced the haze in her mind. She was groggy and numb both mentally and physically. Her bindings had caused her enough pain and as a result, she learned to move as little as possible. Because of the doses of mystery potions that the Nord prisoners experimented with, Silver was lost in murky waters, stuck between reality and dreams. Both realms offered her no peace.
Warmth enveloped her body, allowing her to curl up comfortably, as her arms began to regain some feeling in them. She smiled, welcoming the darkness of sleep once more, knowing that she may be safe as long as she was warm.
"Color me impressed, lass!"
Silver blinked, staring at the stubborn thief standing before her in the Ragged Flaggon. Her frown deepened as he crossed his arms over his chest, smiling widely. Her silence wasn't the answer he expected based on his fading smile. "My, aren't you the talkative one."
"Well, Bryn, she came. That doesn't make her thief material," Vekel commented.
Brynjolf glanced at the bartender and then looked back at Silver. "Aye. Just so happens that I have an errand for you to run. It'll show me if you really have what it takes."
The order he gave her to fulfill made her stomach uneasy. Keerava, the innkeeper of the Bee and Barb was someone she had business with during her stay. Sure, she wasn't incredibly kind, but she was never unpleasant. Haelga was rude to any other woman besides her niece, who she treated terribly still. Then, the owner of the Pawned Prawn had been incredibly useful to her when she was trying to gather supplies for future travels. Resolving to do it, she found herself also trying to find ways for her to regain trust with the store owners after intimidating them.
Sighing, she turned away from the thief and headed off to complete the mission that would bring her into the arms of the Thieves Guild. Thieving was something she did sparingly and reluctantly, yet she was seeking to join the damn guild? Why? There was no other reason besides her growing attached to Brynjolf and his odd ways of catching her attention in the markets each day. It was too soon to call it a crush, but she was certainly infatuated.
After collecting the debts, Silver returned the coin to him. His praise made her feel like a child, something she had no recollection of. All memories of before she was in that carriage to Helgen were gone, making her a shell of a person when she had woken and met Ralof. Sitting in the wagon, she had stared at her hands. They were sore and calloused. When she encountered danger with a bow in her hand, she knew she would be safe, and she had a hawk's eye for ingredients with acute taste buds. She had tried Thistle on her way to Riverwood with Ralof, and realized that she knew how to use it in potions. All else was lost and gave no hint of returning.
While Brynjolf was stubbornly trying to get her to do his little stunt in the marketplace, she had taken a liking to his flattery and the way he'd smirk when he saw her in the town or the inn. Thus, when Mercer gave her a cold welcome and Brynjolf's warm smile greeted her, she felt as if she had found a home in the cold land of Skyrim. In that moment, she had decided to get to know each and every face of the Thieves Guild and do her best to protect them.
It was going well, even when she had first heard about Karliah. Mercer and Brynjolf were explaining the significance of Snow Veil Sanctum, and what had happened there with Gallus. Mercer then told Silver that she would be accompanying him to the crypt. Silver was nervous about it, but she felt safe knowing that Mercer would be there. Although she felt that he didn't like her, she knew she could trust him. After all, they all had each other's back.
"I don't think it's right to involve her, Mercer. This is the guild's problem and she's still new."
"That's not what you were saying after Goldenglow. All you did was brag about how great of a thief she is," Mercer growled in response to Brynjolf.
"I'll go," Silver spoke up, surprising the two.
"That's that," Mercer looked at her smugly. "Meet me back here in a few hours, Silver. Then, we'll head for Snow Veil Sanctum." Mercer left Brynjolf and Silver standing by his desk as he left to prepare for the journey. As Mercer walked passed her, he said "See you soon."
Brynjolf's brow furrowed as he watched Mercer go. She spun on her heel to follow him, anxious to ask questions about Karliah. As she turned, Brynjolf's hand caught her wrist in a firm grip, "Hold on, lass." She came to a stop and partially faced him with widened eyes. He released her wrist and stood straight, crossing his arms over his chest again. His green eyes seemed to pierce her, making her feel vulnerable.
He chuckled, "Don't look so uneasy. I'm worried about your mission with Mercer."
"We'll be just fine. We're all on the same team, right?" She smiled as she thought of the fond memories she had grown with the guild over the past few months.
"Of course! I'm concerned of what Karliah is capable of. She's deadly. So is Mercer, but if she kills him… leaving only you to deal with her. I'm not sure you can do that." Silver had never seen Brynjolf's worry, only heard of it from fellow members who commented on his favor of her. Her heart skipped a beat. His concern touched her, making her feel valuable and important to him.
"Do you worry about me every time I step out?" Silver joked with a laugh.
"Yes." Brynjolf's straightforward response brought her laughter to a halt. They stared at one another, her eyes wide with surprise.
"I've been able to handle myself well enough before I came to guild, and I've completed every task given to me. I've done nothing but surprise you, it seems. Perhaps I should be insulted by that. I'm also the Dragonborn. Fate is on my side," she smiled sadly, knowing that there would come a time when she would have to leave. Her being Dragonborn did not make her invincible either. He frowned.
"You're important to me," he said softly, never breaking their eye contact.
Silver opened her mouth to speak, a few times actually, but closed it and pursed her lips. The heat was rising into her cheeks, burning hotter than the summer sun by the lake. She had to look away, changing her gaze to the Cistern's canal.
He took a step closer and Silver took one back reflexively. A panic was beginning to rise in her chest, her heart squeezing. "I'm sure you meant the guild is important. Not just me," she joked with a half-hearted laugh.
"Bryn, what're you doing to your precious protégé?" Niruin remarked with a hearty laugh as he threw an arm across Silver's shoulders. Silver stiffened. Niruin had eagerly welcomed another Mer into the guild and had helped her hone her archery skills.
Brynjolf shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled, "Wishing her well before she heads off on her journey with Mercer, of course."
They seemed to stare one another down for a moment before Niruin removed his arm from her shoulder and looked down at her with a dreadfully serious expression. "I'm surprised Mercer is bringing you along. I'm sure you'll come back in one piece. I've practiced with you plenty to know that your arrow will never stray from where you want it to go."
Silver's blush returned. Looking away, she muttered, "Thank you". Niruin laughed and looked back to Brynjolf. They had a short conversation about a local job before Niruin removed his arm from her shoulders and left for the Ragged Flaggon. Brynjolf and Silver were alone in the Cistern. She watched Niruin go, wishing she could enjoy some time in the Ragged Flaggon before departing. Brynjolf's harsh emerald gaze caused her to flinch when she finally met his eyes.
"Brynjolf, I'll be careful. If you're that worried, couldn't you join us?" It didn't make sense to her, why Mercer had chosen her over the others. They all knew Karliah and what she was capable of, while Silver did not. He gave her a silent pat on the shoulder before wandering off to the other side of the cistern.
Later, when Mercer and Silver met by Mercer's desk, Brynjolf was there, waiting to see them off. He watched them go. Silver looked back at him once, longing to run back to him. She would miss his quirky flattery and flirtatious jabs while she was away. She didn't bother to entertain the thought of not returning.
It had all happened so fast; Mercer had tried to kill her, Karliah was trying to save the Thieves Guild, and Silver had been thrown into the roaring fire as the catalyst for the chaos. Shortly after she had recovered from Mercer's stab wound, another bit of business had brought her to Riften. Pulling her hood up self-consciously, she walked into the town and did what she had to do, eager to leave before a member of the guild recognized her. Yet, she found herself standing at the door of the Ratways, sweating and fighting with herself.
More than anything, she wanted to see Brynjolf. She wanted to hear Vipir's flirtatious attempts on Vex and Sapphire, and she wanted to hear Vex and Tonilia chewing Delvin out, or Vekel's horrible singing of "The Dragonborn Comes" each time she entered. Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled the door open.
The Ragged Flaggon was the same as ever, if anything it was quieter. Only Delvin and Tonilia were present, off in a corner having a dark discussion based on how closely they were leaning in toward one another. Silver approached the bar and stood for a moment before Vekel's expression fell into shock. Putting his hands on the table, he leaned forward and whispered, "You're back! You know, Brynjolf has been trying to find you?" Silver's heart fell.
Did he know what Mercer had done? Would they believe her if she told them what happened? Of course not... Mercer is their guildmaster and his word is law. On top of that, Brynjolf and Mercer were great comrades. "Is... Is that so?" She had to swallow hard to keep the bile down.
"Mercer came back a few hours ago, had to go straight to bed! I guess he was tired. I'm sure Bryn will be back soon. Take a seat!"
Silver knew better. If she told them about Karliah and she didn't have proof, they would hunt them both down and they would have nothing to show their innocence. Pursing her lips, she shook her head and quickly fled from the Ragged Flaggon. Just in time, she thought, as Tonilia and Delvin had stood and started to approach her with unfitting furious expressions.
On her steed, she rode as fast as she could to Markarth. There, she would get the information Enthir needed to translate Gallus' encoded journal. Tears streamed down her face as her stomach retreated, making her feel dizzy with anxiety. Brynjolf's face flashed in her mind. Silver felt her stomach twist, and she closed her eyes, trying to fight her nausea. If he wore the same ferocity as Tonilia or Delvin, may the gods help her, she thought. She had fallen for him, she realized, and that made the pain mindnumbing.
Silver hiccupped as she came to, the tears in her dream coming to life as she slowly sat up from the cold ground. Her cold, bandaged hands pressed against her face, wiping her tears away. Blinking away the mistiness, she looked at her free wrists and ankles. They no longer had traces of blood. While her limbs were terribly stiff, she felt as light as a feather. She was free from those wretched bonds!
The flicker of light that kissed her skin made her audibly gasp. No longer was her skin the midnight blue. It was a lighter shade of blue, the color the lake turned after turning into glassy ice.
"You're awake," Brynjolf's low, sleepy voice sounded from beside her. His movement brought her attention to the arm draped over her hips. He was laying on his side, with his other arm tucked under his head as a pillow.
In one swift movement, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him into a tight hug. The sudden shift in weight put his back on the ground, her body partially covering his. Her head rested in the crook of his neck as she squeezed him. There were no words needed as his arms wrapped around her waist in response, holding her close. On the ground, they laid hugging for a time before she pulled away, sitting up and looking down at him.
"Thank you," she finally said softly. He smiled in response.
Her eyes fell on a messy pile of belongings near them, easily spotting her bow and knapsack in the dim lighting. Quickly, she crawled to it and grabbed her knapsack, searching for her elixirs. Brynjolf snatched her knapsack, frowning at her as he stood beside her with a hand on his hip. "If you're looking for those potions you were taking, I emptied them all."
"Why did you do that?" Silver's voice was hoarse and cracked, but her anger still showed. She barely recognized it as her own.
"Don't think I didn't notice how dull you've been since coming by Riften to have me tag along with you on this trip." He shook his head, sad green eyes boring into hers. "It's like watching a skooma addict drug themselves to death. You don't need those damn things."
"Yes, I do!" Silver stood on weak legs.
"No, you don't!"
"They repress my memories, that's all," Silver growled, clenching her fists despite the ache and pain of the action.
"You don't even understand where we are. Your judgment was clouded by these things. For all you know, they were what caused you to faint in the mine!"
Her eyes widened, staring at him for a moment before looking around. A torch flickered on the wall, but there was no mistaking the carvings that the light revealed; they were in a Nordic ruin. The ceiling was low and the corridor held low arches every so many paces. Brynjolf had found the exit into the ruin while she was being held prisoner. A cold, gentle breeze caressed her skin, causing her to shiver and remind her that was nearly naked. She was still wearing the undergarments.
She turned back to Brynjolf, "Brynjolf, you don't understand. I needed those. There's a lot that's happened and they help keep me focused."
"You can't rely on some liquid to help you forever, Silver."
"Then who can I rely on? You? The guild? Not a single person has helped. They only make it worse," her voice was low, and her lips were curled back in a scowl.
The hurt in Brynjolf's eyes made her wish she could take her words back. It was true, she admitted. The elixir had certainly warped her personality, but it wasn't his place to dictate whether or not she should take the elixir. Regardless, she meant her words. While she treasured the people, whose company she enjoyed, they always left a trail of terrible memories and she was having a hard time coping.
Her hands covered her mouth as she thought of what she would do if she had lost Brynjolf to the Falmer. "I don't know why I brought you with me," Silver whispered.
"I'm not so sure any more either," he agreed hastily. "We're wasting time here, arguing. We should be trying to get this Shout you need. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner you'll be rid of me."
His words bit into her like a rabid dog. "That's not what I meant," she said softly, trying to clear up the misunderstanding she had just caused. "I would not have extended the invitation to you if I did not rely on you," she spoke carefully, trying to make her words clear through her dying voice. "I have killed my companions, and I have brought some to their deaths while I hid in the shadows because I knew that I wasn't strong enough to prevent their demise. Now, I wonder why I brought you with me when I'm just leading you to your death."
He was looking at her with an eerie calm. "In the end, it's my choice, as it was once theirs. They chose to follow and serve you. Now, I don't plan on dying any time soon, so I expect you to stop treating me like I'm on the chopping block."
"I get it, Brynjolf." Silver crossed her arms, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt.
"I don't think you do." He sighed, and turned back to the pile of their belongings and pulled out her carefully folded armor. Handing them to her, he kept his eyes on hers, "I grabbed your armor as I was leaving. I imagine those aren't very comfortable." His smile melted some of the tension away.
Grabbing them, Silver brought them close to her chest. She stared at him, waiting for him to turn around. He crossed his arms and kept staring at her. "I'm waiting for you to turn away," she said pointedly. He shook his head. "Last time I took my eyes off of you, I ended up leaving you behind," he frowned.
Sheepishly, Silver turned away from him, "I forgot how much you worried about me." She began to remove the rags and heard a movement that she assumed was him turning around. She peeked over her shoulder to make sure.
"Worry, lass. I worry about you."
"And what of your lively, little Bosmer?" Silver had tried to hide the venom in her voice as she said the last word, but it came out clear as day. He chuckled, earning an eye roll from her. His lack of response sent a pang of jealousy through her. Silver finished the last buckle of her quiver around her waist as she turned to him, "Where's my scarf and hood?"
"Those were the only missing pieces," he said lightly. She didn't believe him. "It's not such a bad thing really," he closed the distance between them, taking a lock of her hair between his fingers. Twirling it, he spoke, "I've always wondered how you ended up with silver hair and eyes. Those qualities are nothing like other Dunmers."
"If I knew, I probably would've told you." Silver pulled away from him and began braiding her hair to keep it out of the way.
"You've also never told me how you ended up with the name 'Silver'. Each time I asked, you always directed the conversation elsewhere." Brynjolf began picking up his few belongings from the pile, leaving only her knapsack.
Silver thought for a moment before answering. "I gave it to myself after seeing my reflection. I saw only my hair and eyes shining in the light. Perhaps that would explain to you why I'm more comfortable not remembering certain... things. I have no memories of my time before Skyrim.
"The Draugr had scared me in Bleak Falls Barrow, and they gave me spells of nightmares, but it was nothing compared to my first bandit experience." Silver shuddered. "Since then, I've had nothing but night terrors. They worsened after Mercer."
She finished putting on her knapsack and Brynjolf motioned in the direction they should be headed in order to go deeper into the ruins. The silence was unwelcome as her head buzzed with thoughts she had normally suppressed. How Brynjolf had escaped with her crossed her mind briefly, but she was happy to be free from the stone prison.
