After Maevyn and Brynjolf returned from Goldenglow, they handed Mercer the paper that was in the safe of the estate: a bill of sale, stating that Aringoth had sold the honey farm to an unidentifiable buyer.
"No wonder he was almost delusional with fear," Maevyn said as the two entered the Bee and Barb, "he knew Maven would seek vengeance for selling her sweet deal out,"
"Yes, yes," Brynjolf said, sitting down at the table in the corner, a slight frown marring his face. "Maevyn, I think we should talk," he started.
Her stomach grew aflutter as she thought of what he had said to her in the manor, about how she was more than a friend to him, how he would stay with her, no matter what. Maevyn then blushed, embarrassed at how she lost herself in the estate after burning those men.
"We should talk about what happened at Goldenglow. Lass, I can tell you're still upset about what you did. I want to help you. That was a… shout, correct?" he asked, recalling the information she had told him when he had inducted her.
"Yes," she began, "I learned it before I came to Riften. That was my first time using it, though. I didn't know it would do that," she said, the images of unrecognizable men roasted on the ground as their charred, red skin blistered black in some places surfaced to her mind. Clothes were melted into flesh, teeth glowing pearly white against the ugly skin. Maevyn shuddered, the horror ingrained in her brain. "I… I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to harm people in such a bestial way. I'm not a dragon, I'm a woman. Do you understand what I mean?" she asked, head hanging in shame as she stared at the wooden tabletop.
"I see," he said, brow furrowing in thought, "but Maevyn, the Gods bestowed that gift upon you. You shouldn't decline it. I know it was disturbing what you did, but what if you used that power for good?" he paused, thinking about what he had said, and laughed, "well, thieving isn't the most angelic pastime, but what I'm trying to say is that you don't have to use that particular shout. You're the dragonborn, lass, and you are destined for great things. Why you want to stay with a bunch of thieves is beyond me," he finished, shifting the conversation to a different topic.
"Brynjolf, the guild is my family now. This is what I love doing and I'm not about to give it up to chase dragons. The guild and everyone in it means too much to me," she said, tracing circles into the wooden grain.
"You mean that, lass?" Brynjolf asked, surprise coloring his tone,
"With every ounce of truth,"
The man smiled at her, ordering two pints of mead for them to share.
What Maevyn really wanted to do was talk to Brynjolf about what he had said in the manor. She wanted to ask him if he meant it, if he really cared about her like he had said. But she was too timid.
"So," she began, wanting to divert her thoughts, "I think I'm going to move out of the cistern,"
"What?" Brynjolf asked, a brief hint of anxiety coloring his tone, "Where will you go?"
"I'm thinking of buying that house there," she said, pointing out the window to the tiny cottage.
"Honeyside? Wouldn't think you would like that," he said, gazing at the garden,
"Well, it would be a place of my own. And I like it; it has a nice garden and direct access to the water. Not too big or anything,"
"Hm, I suppose so. I guess I would just be a bit nervous, not being able to keep an eye on you," he said, glancing at her from under his eyelashes.
Maevyn's stomach was sent into a whole new tizzy as he said that,
"Brynjolf, what you said at Goldenglow… about, well, you know, did you mean it…?" she stammered as the words tumbled ungracefully from her mouth, unsure of how to begin.
"About you being beautiful? Of course I did. Maevyn, you know you're something to behold. Your mark is what draws my attention," he said, staring at the scar beneath her left eye.
"Well, um, that's not what I exactly meant, but thank you," she stammered again as her hand automatically lifted to cover the blemish, "What I'm trying to say is, did you really mean that you would stay by my side no matter what?" her face turned red as she looked at Brynjolf fleetingly.
He smiled as he reached over to pull her hand away from the scar, letting his own fingers rest lightly on hers as she placed it on the tabletop, "Yes, I did mean it. Lass, do you not understand that I don't want to do anything else but mentor you? Maevyn, It's just you and me now." He finished, his thick accent making her thoughts swim as she comprehended what he said.
Does he mean that romantically? Or just in the terms of partners? Bah, Maevyn, don't be so conceited; of course he means in partners. He may think you're beautiful, but that doesn't mean he's in love with you.
Then why is he "holding" my hand!?
Battling with her conscience pushed aside, she savored the warmth of his hand on top of hers, engraining the texture of his rough palm into her memory to save for later thoughts.
Growing even redder, Maevyn slipped her hand from under his and took a long drink of ale, avoiding his curious gaze.
Brynjolf chuckled as he too, leaned back and finished his drink.
"I think you did really well, handling those mercenaries outside of the estate. You're an excellent shot with that bow,"
"Oh, thank you," she said, "I've been shooting since I was nine, with my father. And my mother gave me Bellara, my bow, to me before she left for High Rock. It means more to me than you know," she finished as she laced her fingers together, looking down at her upturned palms.
"That's good lass, that you keep something sentimental like that. Just be sure to take good care of it," he warned, "It is a very nice bow,"
As he finished and gazed into space, Maevyn noticed something different about him. He seemed a bit more reserved than when they entered the tavern, quieter, more thoughtful maybe.
I wonder why. Is it something I said?
Maevyn's brow creased with distress as she picked apart every line of dialogue and action she had exchanged with him after they had sat down.
Sighing, Brynjolf got up after finishing his bottle of mead, "Well lass, it is pretty late. What do you say about turning in for the night?"
"I think that's a good idea,"
As Maevyn lay in bed that night, she still though about her conversation with Brynjolf in the Bee and Barb. One action stood out to her most: she pulled her hand away from his.
If I'm interpreting this correctly, he was upset because I didn't express my own attraction, maybe? Maybe he thought I didn't like having him touch me. Or like, I didn't respond to his compliments; I did kind of avoid his advancements. Ugh, Maevyn, this could have been your chance!
Shaking her head, she ran her little finger up and down her scar, wondering how anyone could find it attractive.
Sleep overtook her as her thoughts lingered on Brynjolf's words and actions of the day.
The next day brought Maevyn to Mistveil Keep, the Jarl's residence in Riften.
"In order to purchase Honeyside, I need to be shown that you can be trusted," Lalia Law-Giver said, "I see you have already made a nice impression on the citizens here, but I need something more personal. Talk to my son Harrald about a task. I ask that you take him with you; he needs to see the world for once," the Jarl finished as she gave Maevyn a warm smile.
Harrald Law-Giver was the oldest son of Lalia, and stared at Maevyn appreciatively as she approached him, "Hello, sire. It is my task to accompany you on a quest to clear out a bandit encampment." She said respectfully, not wanting to offend the Jarl's son.
"Ah, yes," he said, looking her up and down as he spoke, "We shall go to Broken Helm Hollow. Those men have been giving my mother quite a bit of trouble,"
"Let us head out, then," Maevyn said,
"Wait," Harrald said, "I don't have my sword. It's at Balimund's. I need to get it,"
"We can stop by on our way out," she said as she eyed his pitiful iron dagger.
"Hello, Balimund," Maevyn called to the friendly blacksmith as the two approached the Scorched Hammer,
"Ah, Maevyn," the large nord said as he heard her, "what can I do fer ya today?"
"I'm here to pick up the Jarl's sons sword," she said as she gestured to Harrald behind her.
"Yes, I 'ave it here. I'm finishing it up, actually,"
Maevyn stood beside his workbench as he finished hammering the steel blade,
"You know," the man said quietly, leaning next to Maevyn's ear, "that boy has been staring at yer rump the entire time,"
She blushed, "I know. It's killing me that I can't say anything to him. If he wasn't the Jarl's son, I would've given him a nasty shock to the gut by now, but I'm trying to buy a house from Lalia, and I need to stay on the good side at the moment," she whispered to the sooty man.
Balimund and Maevyn had become good friends when she started taking smithing lessons from him the first week she arrived in the city. They quickly bonded over the hot forge and steaming buckets of water, both exchanging stories of their previous lives in the Pine Forest.
Over the past weeks, Maevyn had learned that the blacksmith grew up in Markarth, where he had learned the trade from his father. Unhappy in the stone city, Balimund left and traveled to Riften, where he opened a forge.
She liked Balimund; he was someone who wouldn't judge her; he knew she was in the guild, and didn't treat her like an Ataxia-infested skeever. He would listen to her latest adventures with Brynjolf and offer solemn advice, usually consisting along the lines of, "don't get too carried 'way," or "don't get yerself in too deep,"
"Well," Maevyn said, "thank you for repairing Harrald's sword. I'll come by tomorrow for lessons, okay?"
"Be careful, now," was all he said in his gruff voice.
Maevyn and Harrald returned to the city as the sun was beginning to set, both tired but victorious from their battle with the bandits.
"I appreciate you came with me," Harrald said, wiping his forehead as the two entered the Keep, "I don't think I could have done it without you,"
"Of course, it was an honor fighting beside the Jarl's son," Maevyn replied, bowing her head,
"You know, you could stay here for the evening meal, get to know each other better," the young man said, a hopeful glint in his eyes.
"I would sire, but I have other means of business to attend to. I regret not have the ability to join you in your home," Maevyn said, still playing the façade of faithful servant.
"Very well, maybe another day,"
Maevyn turned from a downcast Harrald and addressed Lalia, who was seated at the head of the table, a goblet in hand, "My Jarl, we have returned from Broken Helm Hollow. All of the bandits are disposed of,"
"Excellent work, Maevyn. I knew I could count on you,"
"Please, my Jarl, It was your son who fought most of the men," Maevyn lied,
"Now that is a joke. Harrald has no real experience fighting, though I do respect the fact you are not pig-headed and did not immediately glorify yourself. You may now purchase Honeyside; welcome to citizenship in Riften, Maevyn," Lalia smiled warmly at the woman, then paused in thought, "you know, I have room in my court for thane. Would you like the position? You have shown yourself respectable and honorable."
"Yes, my Jarl, it would be an honor,"
"Excellent, I grant you position of Thane. I will notify my guards and provide a housecarl. As for your house, talk to Anuriel for the key and furnishings."
Maevyn approached the altmer, "Anuriel? I would like to purchase Honeyside,"
"Certainly," the woman said, "that will be 5,000 septims. Would you like furnishings?"
"Yes please," Maevyn said as she handed her a large pouch of gold, "what is the total of all furnishings?"
"4,300 septims. That includes bedroom, kitchen, alchemy nook, enchanting station, garden, and porch upgrades,"
"Wow, I expected it to cost much more," Maevyn said as she handed over another heavy pouch of gold.
"Thank you. Your house will be ready to move into by morning. I can set you up with a room in the Bee and Barb if you need sleeping arrangements for the night?" the elf said as she gave Maevyn a heavy key and a piece of paper that was the deed.
"Thank you Anuriel, but I have that all worked out,"
"Very well," the stewardess said, "I hope you enjoy your new home,"
In the cistern, Maevyn and Vipir sat together, talking about their day.
"I didn't do anything for the guild, today," Maevyn said, "but I did kill a bunch of bandits and bought a house,"
"Really?" Vipir said, eyebrows rising, "Honeyside, I take it?"
"Yes, I'm moving into it tomorrow morning,"
"You should like that, Maevyn. It's good that you have a place of your own. Gives you more flexibility and options,"
"I suppose, I won't see you as often though," she said, disappointed she'll lose her friend.
"No you won't, I know I'll be visiting often. After all, you still need practicing on lock picking,"
Maevyn blushed, he was right, "Good, I'm glad you won't leave me in the dust."
"Of course I wouldn't. Maevyn, we're friends," he smiled, "now, let's go train some more,"
AuthorsNote: I hope this chapter isn't too boring, as it's a filler. Every story needs one now and again, you know? Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it. As always, comments and criticism are always welcome. Have a pleasant day!
