As the pair return to their logical selves, their more baser instincts sated for the time being, the Breton carefully pulls himself out and off of her, then picks Gwendolyn up bridal style and begins to carry her towards where the bed was.
"I don't suppose I can convince you to stay for awhile?" the brunette goes to him as he pulls the snow bear pelt down, then places her down on top of the straw tick mattress.
"I normally don't."
"And I normally don't ask the men who've just fucked me like I was a bitch in heat to join me in bed- I always throw them out afterwards. I'm not kicking you out, if that's what you're wondering...so there is a first time for everything, I suppose," she points out, pulling the blanket up over her naked form.
First time for everything indeed. He moves to the other side of the bed and curls up next to her under the fur, then pulls Gwendolyn's body up against his and plants a kiss on her shoulder. "I suppose you may be right," Mercer murmurs against the pale skin as he snakes an arm around her torso, frowning slightly as he feels the younger thief stiffen in his hold. "I'm not going to hurt you, Gwen."
"Yet, Mercer. Not going to hurt me yet, and I know the same thoughts in reverse went through your head at least once since you got here. Who knows what will be an hour from now, tomorrow, next week, next month..." She slowly maneuvers herself so that she was now facing him. "How does something like...this...if it continues...work between two people who just don't know how to trust enough to let another person close?"
The man sighs softly, the exhaled air cool against her flushed skin. After a few moments, he goes "Do you remember, after you returned from dealing with Goldenglow, when I told you if things went further I was going to do all I had to in order to claim you before someone else could?"
"Of course, was probably the strangest declaration of intent I've ever received. Personally I think had your Second not walked in when he did, I would have ended up bent over your desk."
"And who are you to say that you still won't?" Mercer taps the tip of her nose causing gray orbs to cross slightly. "You of all people know that thieves by nature are a covetous bunch. Did you seriously think that I was just going to let you go after one night?" His fingertips trace the outline of Gwendolyn's jaw as her cheeks darken in embarrassment.
"The thought did cross my mind once or twice," she goes, leaning into the touch slightly. Her own fingers reach up and touch where his teeth manhandled her neck, causing her to wince. "Mercer, I'm not going to be able to cover this with my armor come morning."
The digits that were dancing across her face slowly move downwards, all save the index finger curling inwards towards his palm. The calloused skin gently brushes the sensitive skin as the man asks her "What makes you think I want you to cover this?" He suddenly presses inwards, causing the woman to gasp and arch up against him. "I want them all to know that you're taken."
"And how do I make sure that others keep their hands off of you?" When the man doesn't respond, Gwendolyn continues quietly "You might not be like the other men of Riften who pay regular visits to Haelga, Mercer, but you are a man and you do have needs, just as I as a woman have needs as well. But if you expect me to keep my pants on and not hop into bed with anyone who offers... I expect the same from you. Thief or not, this-" she gestures between the two of them "goes both ways."
"And what makes you think that I'm sleeping with anyone?"
A thin finger reaches up and just taps his nose. "Dragonborn. You seem to forget about that, Mercer."
"Prove it," the man challenges, tilting back just far enough to bite at the wayward digit.
"Muiri in Markarth- when you go see her, you tend to come back smelling of ash and potion residue. Aia in Solitude- the scent of resin and wood, plus San's Spiced Wine. You used to visit the Jarl of Morthal's daughter periodically, though after being relocated to Solitude after the Stormcloaks claimed Hjaalmarch, it made things a little more difficult."
"I should not be surprised you know any of that and yet I have no idea how you do."
Bare shoulders shrug slightly, then she says one word in a rather smug voice "Thief."
Mercer just shakes his head, then pulls the smaller woman against him once more. "Ever betray someone that trusted you with their life?"
"...I think it would depend on your definition of betrayal." A pensive look crosses Gwendolyn's face as she lays her cheek on his bare chest. "But if we are speaking of the traditional definition of betrayal, then yes. A fair amount, if I had to hazard a guess."
"Do you ever regret any of them?"
Very slowly a mahogany draped head nods, followed by. "Very rarely at this point. In the beginning I had to justify my actions to myself many a time; I had to, considering a number of people I was turning my back on were the Jarls whose people I swore to defend. Eventually it became not about the needs of the many, but the needs of the one- what would allow me to survive another day, what would allow me to gain more wealth or more power... Some nights though, especially when I do not want to leave the privacy of my own home, I unfortunately crave interaction with another person whether it's through simple conversation or something a bit more and..." Here, the woman shrugs her free shoulder and stops talking.
"And?"
She huffs, then pulls herself free from Mercer's grasp. "And perhaps it's just easier to show you, if you're going to be that damned nosy. Follow me," Gwendolyn says as she slips out from underneath the fur blanket, making her way towards the stairs. Needless to say, the younger woman was surprised when the normally headstrong man says nothing and complies, following her down to the main room in her basement. "I'm showing a little bit of faith in you talking of this, Mercer. Do not make me regret it." She pauses, then adds "And that was not just a threat. That was the promise of a whole lot of hurt if you even consider breathing a word of this to anyone, let alone take them." To make sure though, I should move them out of The Rift as soon as possible. Perhaps when I go to deal with Gulum-Ei...
When he gives his agreement to the woman standing before him, Mercer watches her come to a stop before the odd piece of ebony armor he noticed before. "You had made a comment earlier about my Housecarl, to which I responded that it wasn't something to worry about and I believe you quipped about my being bloodthirsty... That's not that far from the truth..."
A thin finger reaches out and brushes the cold metal. "Northeast of Windhelm, there is a Daedric Shrine, the Sacellum of Boethiah. Iona was my unwilling sacrifice to the Daedric Lord."
"You were given a piece of armor just for a sacrifice?"
She snorts derisively. "Far from it. When is anything regarding a Daedric Prince ever that simple or easy? Her previous champion, in her own words, displeased her. I was tasked to kill every member of his band of idiots silently and from the shadows, then to kill him without mercy. The Ebony Mail is my badge of office, so to speak, as her new Champion- she was quite pleased with my handiwork." Gray orbs look up to meet his intense green ones and she goes "I am alive because that one is dead. I exist because I have the will to do so. And I shall remain as long as there are signs of my handiwork, such as the blood dripping from my blade."
Before the Breton could say anything, the woman moves on towards a shelf with a long box on it and continues her story. "Then there's this," she goes, caressing the top of the display case reverently, then lifts up the lid. When he moves next to her, Mercer notices a katana-like weapon of the darkest black, much like the armor on the table.
Mercer Frey...
When she feels the man start beside her, Gwendolyn glances up at his face. "You hear her, don't you?"
So you're the one Nocturnal told me about...the one who not only betrayed an entire Guild but also murdered the man who loved you like a brother. I almost wonder what my blade could have done in hands like yours, but I wouldn't trade my current Champion for anything at this point.
"Who... How...?"
"I present to you the Ebony Blade, weapon of the Webspinner, Mephala. Somehow, the former Jarl of Whiterun found it and hid the blade within Dragonsreach. For good reason, considering what this weapon is capable of if used properly." Seeing the unasked question in her Guild Master's eyes, Gwendolyn decides to sate his curiosity. "I had heard a rumor from the owner of the Bannered Mare, Hulda, about the...strangeness of Balgruuf's children. Being his Thane at the time it was quite easy to find out the validity of what I was told, learning that his youngest was becoming a bit moody- and that's putting it rather mildly. After a few rather interesting insults and a good number of secrets regarding his father, Nelkir told me of the Whispering Lady- Mephala. She tasked me with finding a way of unlocking the door, and before you ask, yes I tried picking the lock and that wasn't working- some sort of seal that the Court Wizard put over the door was preventing anyone from getting in unless they had the proper key."
Mercer's mind thinks of the Skeleton Key, currently nestled away in one of the pockets of his armor. He couldn't help but wonder if said artifact could have gotten past the magic user's sorcery, considering it could open any lock. And so much more, he thinks to himself. "And how did you get the key in question?"
"Fucked him til he could barely keep his eyes open- when Farengar finally passed out from exhaustion I stole the key, grabbed the sword, then to start the process of bringing it back to full power I killed him while he was still in sleep's embrace. I don't think he ever got replaced, nor did they ever figure out who made off with the blade, so I would greatly appreciate silence on this." Then again, I sincerely doubt Vignar would believe you, so you could try, but I'm pretty sure you'd just get laughed out of Dragonsreach. She watches as his eyebrow just twitches slightly, though the woman wasn't quite sure if it was from amusement or disgust...or perhaps some combination of the two. As she closes the glass lid to the case, the younger thief points out "You wanted to know, Mercer. I'm not going to sugarcoat the truth- I fucked a man that trusted me, then proceeded to end his life for more power. More people have met the end of their life by my hands with this blade than there are that currently call the Guild home. Now you tell me, Guild Master Frey, have I betrayed people that trusted me with their life?"
If she can do it to a simple mage she can do it to you. End this madness before she finds out the truth! She'll betray you!
She's no different than I am. If I could murder Gallus and frame Karliah for it, who can say I couldn't do it to her? But... I can't...won't...let her go. She's mine, and I'll be damned if I let my past destroy my future. After everything, Fate fucking owes me at least that much.
He says nothing at first, just grabs onto her bare hips and presses her firmly up against the wall beside the shelf. "You could tell me you murdered a Jarl, the High King or the Emperor, or could tell me that you robbed a Hold down to its last septim, and I would not think any less of you Gwendolyn Maullaine," Mercer tells her quietly as he leans his forehead against hers, slowly rubbing their noses together in a rather gentle manner. "Perhaps it is because I too have done my fair share of betraying those who trusted me and I understand. Perhaps it is because I too know well the allurement of a Daedra's promises of power and riches. Then again...perhaps it is just because it's you."
The Breton quickly covers Gwendolyn's mouth when she opens it to speak. "Shh. Just... just let me... just let me try to figure this out." Though steel orbs narrow at the way he silenced her, they soften just as quickly slightly around the edges when she hears the uncertainty in his voice. A muffled sigh escapes her in exasperation, then she nods against the rough hand, showing her acquiescence.
"I had them in order, you know. My priorities, that is. Make coin and survive long enough so I can put thieving in this gods forsaken province behind me and move onto newer places- warmer places. I planned to turn the guild over to Brynjolf and Delvin after the coming winter's end and let them deal with the idiots that called the Flagon home, then cross the border into either Hammerfell or Cyrodiil, maybe even pay High Rock a visit. Didn't plan on getting attached, as attachments are rather dangerous in our line of work.
"Then you came asking about Esbern, and I couldn't help but wonder what a seemingly innocent young woman could want with some insane Nord conjurer of cheap tricks. But soon after Brynjolf came back with news that the Thalmor scouring the Ratways looking for the mage in question had all been brutally killed, I then realized that perhaps that air of sweet naivete you gave off was just an act to convince your enemies to pay you no heed. I wondered if perhaps your path would bring you back to the Flagon again, but weeks and months passed with no sign.
"Four months later had Brynjolf coming before me, saying that he had found a possible new recruit, one that possessed more of an aptitude for our line of work than most of the idiotic footpads that somehow find their way into the Flagon. Now I had heard this from him before, and the majority of them barely lasted more than a week, but something was telling me to humor him this last time. When he brought you to me, there was a subtle shift in the winds that blew through the Cistern, though for the life of me I could not figure if it boded well or ill for the Guild...or for me. Truth be told, I'm still not sure."
Gwendolyn reaches up, and, while brushing some rogue hair out of Mercer's eyes, tells him "Only one thing in life is certain, and that's the fact death is the destiny of all life. The where we end up is uncertain, as that's based on what the person does with their life or which Prince or Princes you swear oaths to, but no one can escape the act of dying. Only thing you can do is make the most of what time you've got and go out in a way that will make for a better song." She goes to say more only to have a yawn interrupt her, causing the woman to flush in embarrassment. "Sorry...haven't slept much the past few days. I wonder why?"
"The great Gwendolyn Maullaine proves she cannot go indefinitely without sleep," Mercer teases as he picks her up once more, this time to carry her up the stairs and back to the bed. "Never thought I would see the day."
"And I never thought I'd see the day where the consistently dour Mercer Frey would show a facial expression that wasn't a permanent scowl or some other way to show your disapproval. Unfortunately for me, however, no one would believe it if I told them."
As the older thief lays her on top of the bed once again, he tells her "It has been a very long time since I have had anything to smile over."
"Way to make yourself sound ancient, Mercer," Gwendolyn goes as she lays back on a pillow, staring up at him. "Perhaps it's time for you to retire and go live up with the Greybeards? It shouldn't be too late for you to learn how to use the Voice and- ack!" Her jest gets cut off as the man in question launches himself at her, pinning her to the bed.
"As I told the last person who made a comment about my age, wench, I still feel plenty young," he mumbles into the side of her neck as his hips move just enough so his erection presses up against her entrance. "Perhaps I should show you just how young you make me feel."
The next morning found Gwendolyn waking up alone, but what surprised her wasn't that, but the fact that on the pillow next to her were two small flowers on top of a folded piece of parchment- the first was the easily found Dragon's Tongue, the other was the ever elusive Yellow Mountain Flower which the young thief only found somewhere east of Falkreath. She had attempted planting the latter bloom once in the greenhouse in Lakeview Manor, unfortunately the flower was having none of it. Perhaps there was something in the soil that allowed the the blossom to flourish as it did? If that is the case then...where did he get this from? And how? Her head shakes in amusement, the disheveled locks flying haphazardly around, then unfolds the piece of paper.
Staying in bed isn't going to get us any closer to figuring out what Gulum-Ei knows, Gwen, no matter how much I enjoyed having you in it.
I do hope you come back in one piece this time, or else I might have to ban you from these sort of jobs until you learn to not get hurt.
Eyes front.
A/N: I love Skyrim. Oblivion too. But I don't like how no one seems to bat an eye at the fact you carry around Daedric Artifacts- rather openly too. Whether for good or ill, it's just brushed off. Take the Vigilants of Stendarr- they're supposed to smite worshipers of the Daedra, WELL HERE I AM CARTING AROUND SEVENTEEN OF EM! COME AT ME! ...Not a damn thing. They notice if you smell of wet dog, but not that you're carrying around the Mace of Molag Bal. No wonder Skyrim's gone to shit between the dragons, the Aldmeri Dominion and the Civil War.
I also, admit, that I'm taking a little bit of liberty with rather hands on Daedric Princes. I feel that if you're their Champion, they'd take at least a little more interest in what chaos you're sowing in their names, especially if their bored (feel free to read bored in Sheogorath's voice if you'd like). Not enough manipulation in my eyes.
So thank you to those who have continued to come back and read this. Feel free to leave me comments, criticism, even questions or ideas of what you might want me to try doing in this or maybe another one of my works- or a completely new one!
Onward to the next adventure- Gulum-Ei awaits!
