Chapter Eight
Unwanted Feelings
Brynjolf recognized a familiar form walking through the market place. The fancy clothes, black hair and general look of absentmindedness left little doubt. He quickly left his booth and walked up behind her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. She startled and turned her head to look at him, eyes wide.
"Brynjolf," she exclaimed.
"Ingun," he said close to her ear. "Seems to me you're having a bit of a lapse in memory concerning our deal."
She looked confused. "I don't understand."
"The deal was I'd take some of your failed potions off your hands for you as long as none of them were poisonous."
"I didn't forget, Brynjolf."
"Oh? Then you might want to pay closer attention to what you're doing, lass."
She frowned and considered his words for a moment longer than necessary. Brynjolf couldn't fault her, though; Ingun Black-Briar had always been a little slow on the uptake. Too preoccupied with her own projects to notice what was going on around her.
"Did I give you one of my poisons by accident?" she asked.
Brynjolf nodded. "Looks that way."
She covered her mouth with her hand and Brynjolf caught a glimpse of the smile she hid away. "Oh, I hope no one's died," she said, no conviction in her voice. "Did anyone die, Brynjolf?"
Brynjolf smiled past gritted teeth and gave her a light squeeze. "No, lass. Just a very sick customer, but he pulled through, and it's a good thing, too. A death would be very bad for business, if you catch my meaning."
She sighed softly and nodded. "Yes, I suppose it would be. I'm sorry, Brynjolf. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't, lass," Brynjolf said, and then he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her forehead before letting her go. She hurried away and Brynjolf returned to his booth in the market.
Understanding the macabre motivations of that little girl was usually beyond Brynjolf's considerable patience. But she was a pretty skilled alchemist and was helping him make a bit of coin, so he couldn't complain too much. She just had a tendency to be a bit absentminded, and needed little reminders now and then.
A few moments after returning to his stall, Brynjolf was approached by Maul, who handed him a sealed parchment.
"What's this?" he asked, recognizing the Black-Briar seal.
"Maven wants a word with your new recruit," Maul said.
Brynjolf popped the seal on the letter and scanned the text quickly. "It's not every day she requests one of our junior members by name. She must be impressed with Goldenglow."
"Hard to tell," Maul said with a grunt. "Think that if you want to. I got to get going. See you around, Brynjolf." With that he walked away.
Brynjolf considered the note a few moments more, before packing away his elixirs and locking up his stand. Then he headed back to the Cistern to pass on the news to Irina.
He found the lass asleep in her bed. He stood there for a moment, debating whether or not he should wake her. He sat down carefully on the edge of her bed and let his eyes wander across her face, taking in every detail. Her face looked so peaceful in sleep, her brow completely relaxed, no wrinkles of anxiety in the corners of her mouth. Here was a troubled woman escaping for a time a reality that was too big for her.
Brynjolf didn't know what those things were. He didn't know where she came from or what circumstances brought her to him. He didn't know her goals and dreams for life, or the pain and heartache that might have kept her from them. But he had seen that they existed, there in the corners of her mouth. In the soft lines under her eyes. She couldn't be more than twenty-three—twenty-five at the most, yet she seemed to carry the burdens of nations.
Who was this lass who so willingly faced down an estate filled with mercenaries, while never once hiding the fear she felt at doing so? She was so eager to please, so willing to do what it took to find her place in the Guild. Was she just lonely, or did she have a more complex motive?
Brynjolf usually tried to keep his nose out of the private affairs of the more junior Guild members, and he rarely questioned anyone about their past. As long as it didn't interfere with their ability to get a job done or jeopardize the Guild in any way, he didn't care who they were or where they came from.
Yet with Irina it was different; he could feel that nearly from the start. He wanted to know her better—not just in the here and now with business as usual. He found himself wondering about who she was, where she came from. He would never find those things out, of course. He had to maintain a professional distance. But that didn't stop him from wondering all the same.
A soft smile curved his lips when he noticed her freckles again, lightly peppering her nose and cheeks. Involuntarily his hand reached out and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly stroking across her nose. She stirred at the touch and he jerked his hand back, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. What was he doing? What had gotten into him? He had no business touching her like that.
He stood up from the bed and she stirred again. As he turned to leave she spoke his name.
"Brynjolf?"
He stopped and looked back at her. "Sorry to wake you, lass," he said softly. "I'll leave you be."
She shook her head and leaned up on her elbows. "No, it's all right. Did you need something?"
"It can wait until you're feeling more recovered," he decided.
She sighed. "By the Nine, Brynjolf, what is it?"
He relented. "I've just had word from Maven Black-Briar. She wants to see you as soon as possible. She asked for you by name."
A deep frown creased her brow, and Brynjolf could see the flicker of fear pass through her eyes.
"But I thought I did the job like you asked…?"
"Oh, no. Nothing like that," he assured her with a soft smile. "You're calling on her for business."
Her frowned deepened. "Well, what could she possibly want with me?"
Brynjolf shrugged one shoulder. "That's between you and Maven, and I prefer you keep it that way." Did he? Did he really prefer that? Normally the answer to that was an easy 'yes'. Now he was no longer sure. What did Maven want with her? Maven never asked to see junior members by name. She dealt only with himself or Mercer in person, choosing to use Maul or Dirge as a go-between most of the time.
Brynjolf grabbed hold of his curiosity and reined it in hard. What Maven did was none of his business. In this case he had to remind himself of that.
He noticed that Irina looked nervous at the prospect of facing the most powerful and dangerous person in Riften. He sat back down on the edge of her bed and rested his hand on her arm as a comforting gesture. "Don't worry about it," he said softly. "Maven's business dealings usually involve quite a lot of gold for her people."
Irina swallowed noticeably and glanced away. "Yeah… all right. When do I meet her?"
"As soon as you're feeling well enough to go for a little walk," Brynjolf said. "She knows you were badly injured, so she's not likely expecting you immediately."
"Maybe I'll feel up to it tomorrow," Irina offered.
"If you think so, lass. In the mean time, just rest." He got up to leave but she grabbed his wrist to stop him.
"Brynjolf? Keep me company?"
He hesitated, briefly entertaining the idea, but realizing quickly that he needed to keep his distance. "I would like to, lass, but I have a lot to do." He tried pulling his hand away, but she tightened her grip.
"Please?"
By the Divines, how could he say no to that pleading look in her eyes? "All right," he relented, sitting back down. He didn't say anything, however. If she wanted to have a conversation with him then she would have to initiate it.
A few moments of awkward silence ensued, in which each of them looked at their own hands. Finally Irina cleared her throat.
"So, Brynjolf, how long have you been a member of the Guild?"
He actually had to consider the answer to that, as it had been a long time since he'd done the math. "About thirty years now," he finally realized. Had it really been that long?
She arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Thirty years? You must have been so young."
"Aye, I was fifteen when Gallus recruited me."
"And what did you do before that?" she asked.
Brynjolf drew a heavy sigh. "Before that is a whole other lifetime, lass. Lived by a boy who shares only a name in common with the man he is today."
"So does that mean you're not going to tell me?"
"This game of information works both ways, lass. I know nothing at all about you."
She blanched slightly, but then shrugged like his interest didn't bother her. "What do you want to know?"
Brynjolf faltered a moment. He wasn't good at this kind of conversation. What did he want to know? "Where are you from?" he finally managed. It seemed like a harmless enough start.
"I grew up in the Rift, actually. The other end of it, though, in a little cabin half way between Iverstead and Darkwater Crossing."
He nodded at that, taking in the information, not sure what he was supposed to do with it. She waited, as if she expected something from him.
"So…where are you from?" she finally asked.
He shrugged. "I don't know, actually. My earliest memories are of Honorhall Orphanage here in Riften."
"You don't know who your parents are? Where you were born?"
"No. And I never cared to. These people here have been all the family I ever needed."
"You were lucky, I guess," she mused softly, a sadness entering her eyes.
"Aye, I suppose I was," he agreed. Then he watched her for a moment, his curiosity getting the better of him. "I take it you weren't so lucky yourself, lass?"
She shook her head. "My parents died when I was sixteen. I've spent the last seven years of my life alone."
"Oh, sorry to hear that, lass." Brynjolf was slightly taken aback by the news, but also by her bluntness. He could hear the anger in her voice when she spoke about it. Obviously it was a wound that had not fully healed, and Brynjolf was not one for reopening old wounds.
"It's in the past," she said, her words belying her obvious emotions. "And like you said, that was a whole other lifetime ago, and the girl from back then shares only a name in common with the woman you see now."
He gave her a soft smile in response to that. "Understood, lass." He patted her knee lightly through the blanket. "I really do have other things to do. But we'll speak another time. Until then, rest well." He stood up and left her alone, feeling a strong urge to get away from her, or else he would find himself pulling her into his arms to comfort her. That wouldn't do. He had to maintain a professional distance. Letting feelings get in the way in their line of work was a bad idea, as life in the Guild was too unpredictable and had no guarantees. He had learned that the hard way with Gallus. He would not do so again.
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A/N: Sorry that was such a short chapter everyone. I hope you enjoyed it though. Please drop me a review, I love to hear what you guys think! :-) Thank you to all who have reviewed so far, you guys are awesome!
