Everything seemed to disappear in a tornado of shock. Ariella felt the ground slip from beneath her, but once again, a pair of arms was there to catch her.
"Alright, Brynjolf, enough of Prince Charming. You've done your bit." Mercer snapped, pulling the girl from the Nord's grasp and gripping her wrist tightly.
She blinked rapidly, her eyes flitting from Brynjolf to Mercer. Then it clicked. "YOU'RE WORKING FOR HIM!"
"Oh, yes, didn't he tell you?" Mercer sneered.
A pain, more overwhelming than any other, ripped through her heart. All this time. Brynjolf turned to look imploringly at Ariella, to explain, but she was staring at the ground, blood visible from beneath her teeth as she bit down on her lip.
"Yes, he's been very valuable. For a while, I thought you weren't going to open up...but then:" he made a popping noise, imitating opening a lid with his hands "I didn't even have to do anything! But I wonder..." Slowly, Mercer moved until he was in front of his daughter. Forcefully, he pulled her chin up so that her eyes met his. "Does it hurt you? To know that his 'rescue' of you in the forest was really just capturing you and bringing you straight into my grasp?"
A small, sadistic smile curved across his mouth as he saw the glint of a tear in her amber eyes. "It does. How touching. You know, you have eyes just like your mother. And, funnily enough, the last thing she ever saw was me – same as you!"
"Shut up!" Ariella yelled, her voice finally erupting with all the rage that boiled inside her. "You killed her."
"And you killed Kodlak. Like father, like daughter."
"That was your fault!" She took a rattling breath. "I don't understand...he never even denied it."
"People will do anything when you threaten them. It's a shame that he told the rest of your, what are they, 'shield-siblings' before it happened – I would have liked to have them on my side." Mercer pulled his sword from its scabbard and ran his finger along the blade.
"You sick bastard!" Ariella tried to punch him with her free hand, but he ducked out of the way and her knuckles collided with the wall behind him. Gasping in agony, she turned back to the smirking Breton.
"You need practise. Not that you'll ever get any, of course. The only trace that's left of your existence on Tamriel is you. Everything else is gone. What a proud father I was when my little girl became the Dragonborn. Even prouder, though, was I, when said Dragonborn disappeared and I realised my time had finally come to strike." He advanced on her like a starving hawk bearing down upon its prey. "So long I've waited to rid myself of you. Can you imagine what people would think if they found out I had a half-elf daughter? Even your mother's father didn't want the disgrace. He asked me to get rid of her – and you."
"Look, please...dad. I've never had any family. We could be one." Her voice cracked as tears spilled over her cheeks.
Mercer let out a howl of laughter. "Me? Want a family? I've spent almost my entire life hunting you; I'm not going to stop now."
"Why didn't you just kill me when I was a baby, save yourself the trouble now?"
"Because I wanted you to suffer like I did." His face was inches from her. She could smell his acrid breath. "I realised I may have been too late when all that Dragonborn shit came about, but then that whole Companions thing happened – with a little nudge from me – and all you became was a thing of history. No more Blades to protect you!" His leer was growing even wider. "And of course, then came the icing on the sweet roll. You walked straight into my hands! All because you were too foolish and weak to see you were being tricked."
"Tell me." He thrust her face to the side, forcing her to look at Brynjolf. "If you could, if I gave you the option – would you kill him?"
Fear seemed to consume Ariella's face. But then, something else came into her eyes: a deep, burning hatred. He'd lied to her, used her and treated her like she was some rodent that was incapable of feeling. Yet...
"No." She whispered.
Mercer tutted, constraining her vision back to him. "Don't say I didn't give you the option. You don't know how much I relished seeing you fall head over heels for Brynjolf, and the whole time he was relaying it all back to me! Of course, I could only watch a kitten chasing string for so long. I got bored eventually, so I wrote that fake letter, which you then 'accidentally' found. It really was too easy! And obviously, you fell for the bait, because now here you are!"
Ariella barely contained a gasp. She could feel Brynjolf's eyes burning into her, but she forced herself to not meet them. She knew what he was thinking.
"Oh, and just to say," Mercer turned to the Nord that had been in her thoughts. "I was rather annoyed to receive the information about her being captured not from you, but from that buffoon, Harald. If I'm not mistaken, Brynjolf, you got a little too into your act. Did you really actually fall for this tramp?" His fingers tightened around his daughter's wrist as he felt her trying to wrench herself free.
"Get off her, Mercer." Brynjolf spoke monotonously. His face was in darkness.
Ariella stopped struggling. After all this, he was trying to protect her? "I don't need you sticking up for me." Her tone was poisonous.
Mercer looked from one to the other of them. "Oh, this is brilliant! Don't worry, dearest Ari, you won't be going up to our maker alone today. I'm not all too happy with your little love-bird. Now, for the real question: which of you wants to go first?"
"I will." Brynjolf stepped forwards. "If you dare touch her, Mercer –"
"You'll what?" Interjected the other man, laughing. "Unfortunately, you'll be dead! But, if it's your wish to go first, I'll be happy to oblige."
"No." Ariella's voice rang out, echoing loudly in the cavernous tunnel. "Only one of us is going to die today Mercer. And it's going to be you. For everything you've done to me." She ripped her arm free from his clench. "Revenge for my mother, for every innocent person you've killed to reach her or me, for all of the Companions, and most importantly – for myself."
Mercer gave a weak laugh. "You don't scare me. I bet you don't even have it in you to kill me."
With a flash of glinting metal, his sword danced in the air, but before it could fall, a great, thundering Shout filled the entire tunnel. "FUS RO DAH!"
The Breton's body flew through the air, limp as a rag doll, landing with a sickening crunch against one of the sloping walls. The Bosmer slowly walked towards him, watching the blood dribble down into his hair from the tear in his scalp. Mercer looked up into the face of his daughter, and saw at last a child he could be proud of – she was fearless.
But then, a deafening crack rent the air, and he felt his bones shatter as her foot crashed down on his ribs.
Ariella spat on his immobile body. "You know one thing I learnt from all those years alone? Skeevers like the smell of blood – especially when they're hungry." A strange, shrill whistle burst from her mouth, and then the scurry of thousands of feet could be heard stampeding up the passage.
Mercer Frey, soaked from head to toe in his own blood, disappeared in a swarm of rabid rats. The last thing his daughter heard was a faint scream before she turned, seized Brynjolf's hand and ran out of the cavern.