A/N: Sorry about slower postings...school just started this week, and I can't be up as late as I normally am. Thanks for all the kind words of encouragement and the reviews. :)
Something in your eyes was so inviting,
Something in your smile was so exciting,
Something in my heart,
Told me I must have you.
"Strangers in the Night," Frank Sinatra
Under usual circumstances, Brynjolf wouldn't mind waking up to a woman.
But given that he felt like he'd just been sat on by a mammoth, he would have preferred a different sight. Just this once. You know...like maybe a healer...or...
Gaella.
The thought made him groan. Well...that and the intense pain radiating from the stab and arrow wounds he now owned.
"Don't try to move," The woman- a dark elf- said, lightly pressing down on his shoulders to keep him down. "I've only just stopped the bleeding. I've given you something for the pain, it should kick in at any minute."
"Where am I?..."
"You're on top of Snow Veil Sanctum."
That was when it dawned on him. "You shot me!" He shouted, and immediately regretted it, as a fresh wave of pain crashed over him due to the exertion. He groaned in pain.
"Yes, and you ought to be thanking me. If I hadn't shot you with that poisoned arrow, you would have bled out, after Mercer cut you. And besides, that poison was never meant to kill, only paralyze. I just wanted to get you out of the way so I could take Mercer."
Mercer... "I can't...believe it. After all these years...that rat bastard! I'll kill him!"
"You can't just rush into the guild and stab him. You don't have any proof, yet. You would turn everyone against you."
He took a long, hard look at the woman- Karliah. "Did you kill Gallus?" Brynjolf asked bluntly.
"No. I would never. Mercer did."
Feeling the pain subsiding, he finally sat up. "He killed Gallus, set you up, killed the Princess, and tried to kill me. You better have a good plan, lass, because otherwise I'll fly into the Flagon myself and end him, consequences be damned."
"Princess?...No, nevermind. Yes, I do have a plan." Karliah handed him a journal. "This is Gallus' journal. If we get it translated, I suspect it has all the proof you need..."
All the steps...they were too long, and too much, for him to bother with were the circumstances different. But deep within him burned an overwhelming hatred for Mercer. He didn't just want Mercer dead, he wanted Mercer to die as painfully, and as shamefully, as possible, exposed to all as the traitor he was. He grit his teeth and endured, going through all the motions to translate this journal, for some reason written in a language no one spoke any longer.
And when it was translated, and he presented it to the guild, showing Mercer as the traitor he was, and asked for Gaella...they replied that she had mysteriously disappeared out of the cell he had kept her in.
Brynjolf felt hollow upon hearing it. He hadn't kept his word to her. He'd failed. Mercer had just stolen the girl's life, and his honor, as well. That was why his thoughts had kept returning to her...he'd promised her something. The way she'd looked at him with that perfect face, and those melancholy eyes; that he had been able to see happiness in them, as he made that promise. Even for a second.
Ruined.
And when they'd discovered that Mercer had robbed them all blind; taken the entire vault, even the guild's plans, Brynjolf was nearly beside himself. He had no idea how he was still able to give orders. How in the hell he managed to collaborate and figure out where Mercer was headed, he didn't know. His body, and brain, it seemed, were both running on autopilot, while his true self – his soul - subsisted only on the flames of rage.
He supposed, later...that it was that rage that led him to take that pact with Nocturnal. He could feel his abilities increase, he felt more...powerful. More confident. Even still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd sold his soul; nor the knowledge that he didn't care.
He couldn't even name whatever it was Mercer was after, as he entered the ancient ruins. He couldn't remember the name of this place, or why it was important. He was focused, calm, at one with his anger. One of his best gifts was the ability to focus completely on one thing, blocking out everything else. And right now, he utilized that gift, to this best of his ability.
Revenge.
Revenge was what kept him focused and safe as they descended the dangerous depths of the ruin. Revenge was what kept his mind clear. It was all that mattered to him, then. He would have his revenge, and nothing would stop him until then.
And when they finally reached that chamber, and he saw his target, chipping away at a massive statue, he readied a throwing knife, judging the distance it would take to land. Then, the ground shook, and he had to force himself to look up and away from Mercer...
….Just in time to see a boulder headed towards him.
And he thought, Damn...so close. It was too fast, too near him to dodge. The entrance was caving in; clearly Mercer had expected them, and rigged this room to collapse.
"Wuld Nah Kest!" The words echoed along the cavern, shaking the very ground with their power.
The sensation of flight- he was airborne, momentarily; something...or someone...warm and soft, pressed against him. He landed on his back, with said person on top of him, straddling him at the hips- did she do that on purpose?- wondering...what in the name of the Gods just happened? And...
He squinted at the woman straddling him, though he was dazed. She was wearing some hideous studded armor that was far too big on her, and it looked...wrong. But underneath, he could see her clear, tanned, soft skin...she wore no helmet, and even if she had, that massive, bright mane would have fought against it for sure.
"Gaella..." He whispered, almost unable to believe it. As he often found himself doing in awkward situations, in an effort to diffuse the tension, he said, "...You know, we should really try this again, but under different circumstances..."
Gaella looked back at him and scowled softly, putting a finger to her lips to signal him to be silent.
"Are you kidding me?" Mercer called out, in apparent frustration.
Brynjolf was a little bit more disappointed than the situation called for when she got off of him. His disappointment quickly turned to worry when he realized that she had revealed herself to Mercer, taking the attention off of him. What was she thinking? He nimbly rolled to his feet.
"I thought I'd taken care of you, bitch. And here you come out of the woodwork, when I finally finished off those other two rats? Fine. It's not like I haven't taken care of you before. Only this time, I get to actually kill you."
The girl summoned a flame atronarch then, and sent fireballs at Mercer in tandem with it. Brynjolf was momentarily distracted by the flames, but then he pressed himself into the shadows...he would sneak up on Mercer while he was busy with the girl and lend his aid, assaulting the man from behind. Mercer was smarter than that, though, and managed to parry Brynjolf's dagger at the last moment.
Brynjolf didn't know how long they fought. It seemed like an eternity; a sick dance of blades and fire, where if any one of them took even one misstep, he or she would fall into the abyss of death. Both he and Gaella were wounded by Mercer, but Mercer, even as powerful as he was- even with that daedric artifact he'd stolen from the Twilight Sepulcher – he was still fighting two people at once, who were skilled in the ways they fought.
Eventually, another shout- a weird spell of foreign languages- sent out a wave of power that knocked Mercer to the floor. This time, Brynjolf saw that it had come from the girl, and he made a mental note to ask her about it later. For now, there was only one thing to do. He drew his dagger, and, with all of his might, thrust it into the heart of the betrayer.
"Fuck you, Mercer." He muttered, and withdrew his dagger, wiping the blood off on Mercer's old clothes. He turned to look then, at this strange creature before him...
"...You...came all this way, lass. Why?"
Gaella met his eyes, then, bruises on her face, bleeding from several gashes on her exposed skin, and said nothing.
Brynjolf started to walk towards her, fully intending to take her into his arms in relief, but there was a strange crash, and the chamber started to fill with water. He looked back to her. "We have to get out of here..."
Gaella rushed past him, going to Mercer's body- hurriedly, she went through his pockets.
Brynjolf covers his face with his palm, and he can't help but laugh. "You're sharing that with me later, lass," He said, and looked around the cavern for a way out. The way they had come was caved in- his heart sunk, thinking of Karliah and how she surely must have been caught in the landslide- and he could see no way out from the level they were at. So he turned his eyes higher, as the water rose. A thought occurred to him..looking over at Gaella. "...How are you going to swim in heavy armor?"
She looked over at him...and smirked a sexy little smirk, that said, Watch me.
He grinned at that, and looked back up. Up there, near the top of the statue, were some loose boulders. If he could clear those, he could make an opening for both of them to climb into. He could see light coming through the cracks in the boulders. "Alright. I'm going to climb up and try and clear the path. Listen. You be sure to take that armor off if you can't swim in it, and damn any sense of modesty, Princess. Alright? The only thing I really need you to hold onto is a teeny little key that was on his body."
His eyes met hers, and the green somehow managed to smolder, like the embers of a dying fire. She said nothing, her face passive, but after a few precious seconds...she nodded.
He jumped up the ledges and then started to scale the statue. It wasn't easy, even for one as limber and agile as he was. As he struggled to cling to the smooth surface, he couldn't help but cast worried glances every few minutes down at Gaella below, weighted down in that heavy armor and whatever she'd managed to loot off of Mercer's body.
He managed to scale the statue, finally. He started to hack at the boulders with his daggers, loosing them and causing them to fall into the water below. He had to hurry and make the opening larger, then he could assist the girl with her climb up here. After a few minutes, the way was nearly clear; only a small patch of dirt remained. He stopped for a second to rest, panting heavily. A fireball whirled right past his head and exploded, clearing the last of the debris. He shielded himself from the falling dust, and looked down...before breaking out into a grin.
Gaella was no longer wearing the heavy armor; instead, she had stolen Mercer's armor right off of his body and donned it. She was having no trouble staying afloat wearing it, though it was ill fitting; the arms and legs far too long, and tight around her torso and hips.
"Smart girl," He called, "Can you climb up?"
She swam over to the statue- the water was up to its nose, now- and tried to grip it and climb, but she failed: her fingers slipping, she fell back into the water.
Brynjolf had figured as such. She didn't look like the agile type, and she certainly was no thief, or a wood elf with a natural inclination for climbing. He knelt down and held out his hand. "Just wait until the water rises a bit more, then I'll pull you up, lass."
She nodded, and swam as close to his hand as she could. She met his eyes steadily, but still, not a word escaped from her lips. The water did not take long to rise, and she grabbed for his hand. He pulled her up without much trouble, as she braced her feet on the statue to aid her ascent.
When they were both on top of the massive thing, Brynjolf helped to boost the mage up into the opening he had made in the cave ceiling. He then scrambled in after her. He wanted desperately to lay there on the floor and catch his breath, but if that water kept rising...
He looked around, taking in his surroundings. It looked as though they were in some sort of tunnel; the light of the outside shone through an opening at the end of it. Good! And, he noticed, as he turned back to check, the water had stopped rising just below the hole that they had climbed through. He laid back against the wall, then, and slunk down to a sitting position. Closing his eyes, he took a much needed deep breath.
Gaella sat back and watched him- her eyes drifting down to take in all the details of his face. Red hair like hers, though his was a bit darker, straight, and short. High cheekbones, a square jaw. Rough stubble; likely, he hadn't shaved in a few days. Overall...a very handsome man. A weird feeling came over her, and she realized that she was attracted to him- and that realization brought with it...vast fear. She tore her eyes away from his face, though to her detriment, she found herself studying the lines of his body underneath the armor. Even though he wasn't as bulky as a warrior, he certainly...
"Like what you see, lass?"
She jumped and looked away immediately, her face turning red.
"Now, now." Brynjolf opened his eyes slowly, smirking. "There's no shame in it. It's just a look." His tone was gentle, even though it still held the same confident snarkiness. It was almost as though he was trying to comfort her.
For some reason, it worked. Her embarrassment lessened, she looked back at him...and she recognized the look on his face. He was studying her, as though she were a target. As though she were a puzzle, as though...
As though she were a lock he wanted to pick.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
He grinned and held up his hands in a 'peace' gesture. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head.
"...Come on, princess." He stood up and walked toward her, holding his hand out to help her up. "Let's not play that game anymore."
Gaella looked at his gloved hand. If she took it...if she touched him. She knew Brynjolf's type- he was the "smooth operator" kind, the man at the bar that could get any woman he wanted. Skills he no doubt honed over his life as a thief. Instead, she stood up without taking it, and reminded herself that this man was a playboy, and, handsome or not, she had no business touching him. She turned to face the light and walked away...aware of his eyes on her.
Brynjolf stared at the woman as she walked away, rubbing his chin. He automatically followed after her. She was a challenge, and normally, he loved challenges. But...regardless of whether she had said yes to Ulfric or not, this was his woman. He valued his own hide over a romp in the hay with any woman, even one like this.
But even still...his eyes roamed her body, and he had to wonder why she had stopped talking to him. Even in his admiration of her physicality, he couldn't ignore the force of her personality. It was just as, if not more, striking than her appearance. "...Why did you come back, lass?" He asked softly. "..And how did you escape from the Imperials?"
She looked over her shoulder at him. "...Men like Mercer don't deserve to live," She finally said, "And men with honor don't deserve to die." Then she looked back- forward, towards the light, and kept walking. "And Mercer wasn't smart enough to give me to the Imperials. He dropped me with some fool bandits."
"Fools love you," Brynjolf remembered, in admiration.
….Ulfric's, he reminded himself, but in that moment, he so desperately wanted to know her.
