The Bride & The Other Brother
Chapter 10
Faye stood in the middle of his room with a lit candle in her hand as her only source of light, utterly surprised to find it vacant of any occupants. The Breton shifted awkwardly on her feet, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, although she was alone. It felt weird being in his room, without him in it. She looked around, biting her lip, not sure what to do now. Should she leave? He wouldn't want her to be there, in his room, without his permission. But she didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay… stay with the little pieces of him that were scattered about the room. She decided then that she would wait for his return.
Faye slowly walked forward, the candle flickering in her hand, before she placed it on his dresser. The Breton removed her bow and quiver, as well as her daggers and pack, and placed them on the floor beside his nightstand. She looked around his room then, not sure what to do with herself now.
After a few minutes, Faye leisurely walked towards his bookshelf. She reached out and ran her fingers almost reverently over the multitude of books that lined his bookshelf. There were books everywhere, lying on every surface of his room. They were stuffed to the brim in his bookshelf, strewn all over his floor, some resting on top of his desk, a few lying on his bed. With her index finger, she pulled out one book entitled: Rising Threat volume II. Faye smiled to herself as she opened it to the middle and skimmed through it. The book was about the fall of the Altmer kingdom during the Oblivion crisis and the rise of the Thalmor. Faye couldn't suppress the smile that curved her lips when she saw several pages had been earmarked, little scribbles were written in the margins, and certain names and dates had been circled. She remembered this book, remembered how his voice sounded when he read it out loud to her.
Faye closed the book and put it back where it belonged before walking over to his cluttered desk. Small stacks of books and several scribbled notes covered its surface. The blonde sat in his mahogany chair with her hands tucked under her thighs, her foot tapping carelessly on the ground. After a few minutes of staring mindlessly around his room, her eyes spotted a sweet roll resting on a plate on his desk. Faye licked her lips, realizing just how hungry she was. She reached over and picked up the sweet roll that had been untouched and took a bite. It was a little stale, but still good. She brought her legs up so her feet rested on the chair and her knees pressed against her chest as she continued to take little bites of the sweet roll.
As she chewed, she noticed a book was left open on his desk. Not wanting to get icing all over its pages, Faye used her elbow to pull the book towards her so she could read it. The book was called Chance's Folly. Curious, Faye used her elbow and wrist to open the book to the first page and started reading. She was instantly interested in the story, which was about a beautiful thief named Minevah who could steal anything and Ulstyr, a rugged warrior who paid more attention to the voice in his head than to the world around him. While her eyes read the words on the pages, the Dragonborn chewed slowly on the sweet roll in her hands.
Once she finished reading the book, Faye licked her fingers clean of icing and pushed the book away. She stood and stretched with her hands over her head before looking at his bed - the bed he used to sit on with his back against the headboard while she asked him question after question about himself and his brother and the Companions, and rambled on and on about random thoughts that popped into her head just so she had an excuse to spend time with him, a reason to stay in his presence.
Unconsciously, Faye's feet shuffled to his bed. She tentatively stretched out her hand to glide it along the fine cotton sheets. They were deep red in color and incredibly soft. She bent over and removed the books that were scattered on it, placing them on the floor. With a groan, Faye sat down on the edge of his bed and her muscles protested the movement. She was till sore from the long three-day trek she'd made from Riften to Whiterun. The Breton clasped her hands in her lap, twiddling her thumbs, and tapped her feet anxiously on his floor as she waited for him.
As her feet tapped restlessly on the floor, her eyes slid to a heavily battered, leather bound book that was resting on his nightstand. From the tattered look of it, he'd obviously read it several times over. Interested, Faye picked it up. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the insignia on the cover of the book and read the title: The Book of the Dragonborn. Faye had never seen this book before. Was it about her? What did it contain? Why was he reading it? The blonde immediately opened the book to the first page and began reading.
A few hours later, Faye was still sitting on his bed, reading the last words of the book:
When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.
She'd read those words before with Delphine and Esbern in Karthspire. It was the Prophecy of the Dragonborn that was carved into Alduin's Wall by the ancient Akaviri Dragonguard. It depicted several events that would preface the return of Alduin after his expulsion from the world. Faye remembered how the image of the "last Dragonborn" that was carved into Alduin's Wall was of a man - a huge brute of a Nord with bulging muscles, a giant sword, a large shield, and fine heavy armor.
Faye was none of those things. She wasn't even able to lift the sword Dragonbane or wear the Blade Heavy Armor Delphine had given her for her eventual fight against Alduin. Reading those words again, it reminded her that she still needed to return to High Hrothgar and speak with the Greybeards to learn this Shout that was supposed to help her defeat Alduin. Though, she personally didn't see how one Shout was supposed to help against Alduin, the World-Eater, the Nordic God of Destruction. She needed an army, that's what she needed. And a miracle. Maybe a few miracles.
Not wanting to think of such depressing things like her neglected responsibilities as the Dragonborn or of her imminent death at the jaws of Alduin, Faye closed the book and put it back on his nightstand. As she did so, her eyes began to droop and she began to yawn every few seconds. Unable to hold herself upright any longer, she removed her boots and socks, then her armor and under garments until she remained in nothing but her underwear.
The Breton then touched a black shirt where it lay folded on his bed. It was soft beneath her fingers. Hesitantly, Faye held it to her face, inhaling. The shirt was freshly washed, smelling of soap, but it also had the underlying scent of him. Faye couldn't help herself and breathed in his distinctive woodsy scent. It was such a unique blend of fragrances that made him unmistakable, identifiable by smell alone. She slipped the shirt over her head, her long blonde tresses falling to her waist. With a soft sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if it were his arms encircling her.
Faye blew out the candle now resting on his nightstand, casting the room in complete darkness. With a yawn, Faye slipped beneath his sheets, reclining on her side. When she laid her head down on his pillow she inhaled deeply, breathing in his masculine scent that reminded her of moonlit walks in the woods. His scent was strongest here. It seemed to permeate from the sheets and rattle her mind. She adjusted, trying to get comfortable, but every little movement she made seemed to ruffle the sheets, causing a fresh onslaught of his staggering scent to assault her senses. With his scent enveloping her like a warm embrace, it felt as if he was actually there with her.
Faye closed her eyes and allowed herself to slip into one of her fondest memories spent in this room.
"Read out loud," Faye ordered as she chewed on his last sweet roll. She was lying on her back at the foot of his bed staring up at the ceiling, her feet up in the air and resting against the wall.
"No," Vilkas answered, sitting on his bed as well with a book in his hands and his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him, his feet almost touching her hip.
Faye bit into the sweet roll, then spoke with her mouth full, "Oh, come on. I'm bored and it's too quiet. Read to me."
His eyes never left his book, as he uttered, "No."
The Breton turned her head to the side, emerald eyes landing on him. "If you don't start reading, I'll start singing," she threatened.
His dark eyebrows drew together, but he still didn't look at her. "Don't."
"Then read," she ordered.
"No."
"Alright, you asked for it." Faye lowered her feet from the wall and sat up on his bed facing him, sitting cross-legged by his feet. She stuffed the rest of the sweet roll into her mouth, chewed quickly, then swallowed. She cleared her throat and began singing in a very high pitched and off-key voice that caused the man sitting across from her to wince as it pierced his eardrums. "There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from-"
"For the love of Talos please stop!" Vilkas interrupted, pleading, his silver eyes finally lifting from his book to meet hers.
Faye smiled triumphantly. "Start reading."
Vilkas sighed in resignation. When he spoke, Faye had to suppress the shiver that wished to run down her spine at the sound of his dark, deep timbre that was rough yet smooth, like whiskey but without the sting. "The Thalmor besmirched his name when he had the audacity to publicly doubt and question their role in ending the Oblivion Crisis on Summerset Isle. Rynandor made the mistake of ignoring the consensus gentium, trusting instead to logic and facts. The shrewdness of the Thalmor, however, was not such to allow something as trivial as the truth stand in their way-"
"Gods, I'm so booored already!" Faye interrupted him with a loud groan of frustration. "Why are you reading something so boring?" Faye muttered as she picked a piece of lint off his comforter and flicked it away.
His eyes never left the book in front of him, but a quirk in the corner of his lips formed. "It's educational."
Faye scoffed. "Since when have you ever cared about anything educational?"
Vilkas lifted his piercing silver eyes to look at her from over the top of his book. "You mean you don't want to know more about the fall of the Altmer kingdom during the Oblivion crisis and the rise of the Thalmor?"
"No, and neither do you," the Breton jeered.
The Nord gave her a pointed look. "How do you know what I want?"
Faye rolled her eyes at him, "Just read something else."
"No," Vilkas stated flatly, eyes returning to his book.
"Read something else," Faye demanded, becoming irritated.
"No," the Companion responded before he began to read out loud again, just to piss her off. "As soon as they shifted the collective opinion of defense to the Thalmor's attacks, Rynandor was quickly denounced and exiled…"
As if sensing her next move, Vilkas began to grin openly as Faye dove across his lap, hands reaching wildly for the book that his hand held just out of her reach.
"Give it, so I can burn it!" Faye shrieked as she clawed for the book, but Vilkas shoved her shoulder with his free hand to keep her away. Faye abruptly caught a hint of something woodsy, spicy, and utterly masculine. It smelled good. Really good. It was him, she realized, and she involuntarily leaned into him a bit more so she could take more of his heady scent into her.
"Dammit Breton, get off me," Vilkas grumbled and a sudden overpowering shove sent her flopping backwards, her legs flying wildly in the air as she nearly tumbled off his bed. "You know… you really are annoying," he mumbled as he turned his attention back to the book in his hand.
Faye stood, glaring at the Nord that appeared no longer aware of her presence. Knowing he would hate it and become increasingly annoyed with her, she grabbed his sword that was resting against his bed and with two hands and all the strength she had in her feeble little arms, she began swinging his sword around. Parry, lunge, block, retreat, riposte. But with every move she made, her arms grew increasingly weaker until she couldn't hold his sword anymore. His sword dropped accidently from her fingers, the steel landing on the ground with a loud clatter. Faye swore under her breath at her weakness, picked his sword back up, and started all over again only to drop his sword again.
"If you keep dropping my sword like that it's going to become dull and need to be re-sharpened," Vilkas informed her, his irritation evident in his voice.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll sharpen it later," Faye replied flippantly, hiding her smile from him, happy he was finally paying her some attention, even though he still refused to call her by her name – only referring to her as Dragonborn or Breton or thief or that hooded creature.
Out of the corner of her eye, Faye saw Vilkas sigh in exasperation at her response. He closed his book and turned to put it on his nightstand. The Nord yawned then and stretched with his hands over his head, causing his red shirt to ride up his muscular torso, exposing a sliver of skin and lean, sinuous muscle. Faye's breath caught slightly, and she dearly hoped Vilkas hadn't heard it, when her eyes fell to his exposed lower abdominals and the lines along his sides that formed a deep V at his hips. She swallowed hard as heat blossomed within her. He was all sharp edges, corded muscle, and unfathomable power. She couldn't comprehend how so much strength could reside in a single person. She envied him.
When Vilkas' arms returned to his sides, his intense gaze slid over to her. He eyed her closely for a few seconds before uttering, "You need new armor, Dragonborn. What you have on is too big for your petite figure."
Faye felt her cheeks flush from his words, but she reminded herself that he hadn't actually given her a compliment, he was just stating a fact. She did need new armor, she was practically swimming in the one she had on. But it was the only armor she had and she couldn't afford something new.
Needing to do something with herself or else she'd start fidgeting under his piercing gaze, Faye walked over and picked up the enormous book off his nightstand before dragging the chair from his desk over to his bookshelf. She stood up on the chair and proceeded to place the book back on the top shelf where it belonged. After playing with his sword, her arm was sore and felt like it would give out at any moment under the weight of the massive book. Faye rose up on her toes and stretched her now shaking arm as far as it would go. The chair tilted sharply to the side and her upper body swayed slightly.
A large hand suddenly reached out and grabbed her outstretched elbow, steadying her. Faye followed the toned arm to find Vilkas frowning disapprovingly at her. Even though she was standing on a chair, he was still a little taller than her. On their own accord, her eyes roamed over the contours of his face. Even though he was frowning, he was still the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Thick obsidian locks fell over his chiseled face and she could see the deep silver of his eyes, like molten steel, and the tiny flecks of white that were sprinkled within those cool irises. The Dragonborn couldn't help but gaze upon the Companion with evident admiration and affection while she fought the urge to run her fingers through those thick, dark tresses.
Realizing she was staring, Faye forced herself to avert her gaze and say something. "What are you doing?"
Without releasing her elbow, Vilkas reached over with his free arm and took the book from her. Faye stiffened as she felt his hard chest press against her outstretched arm. Her heart began thudding loudly and somewhat painfully in her chest at his proximity and the feel of him pressed against her. Realizing he was trying to help her, Faye stammered, "Oh, uhh, it's okay I can do it-"
"Don't be stupid," Vilkas interrupted softly as he placed the book effortlessly on the top shelf. The simple gesture made Faye feel about two inches tall. As his hands returned to his sides, Faye heard him inhale deeply before turning his head to look at her, his face inches from her own, and said plainly, "You smell like wildflowers."
Faye refused to let her cheeks blush. It was just another fact, not a compliment. There was no smile or smirk as he said it. His words had come out bland and impassive, as if he was talking about something mundane like the weather.
Faye suddenly squeaked in surprise when his large hands glided under her armpits and he gently lifted her easily off the chair and onto her feet. The Dragonborn placed her hands on her hips and scowled at the dark-haired Nord's back in frustration as he dragged the chair back to his desk. Did he have some sort of inferiority complex that commanded him to treat her so childishly? Was she really that weak and vulnerable in his eyes?
Faye pinned him with a fulminating glare."I am not a child, Vilkas. You do not need to treat me like one."
Impassive silver eyes flickered to her, watching as she stomped her foot in her frustration like a petulant child. "Then don't act like one," Vilkas drawled, looking slightly amused at the little temper tantrum she was throwing.
Faye huffed and crossed her arms over her chest before looking away. Vilkas moved across the room and picked up his sword from where Faye had dropped it on the floor earlier. As Faye silently fumed to herself, her eyes caught something shiny. The Breton squinted her eyes a little trying to make out what it was that had caught her eye.
It was a ring, she realized. A magnificent gold ring. The opulent band was in the shape of a vine of ivy with four leaves branching out of it that were filled with luxurious emeralds that sparkled and shined. It was expensive, clearly. Was it his? How come she'd never seen him wear it before? Wait. It couldn't be his. The ring was much too small for Vilkas. Why would he keep it if not to wear it? Before she knew what she was doing, she had moved silently to his nightstand while he was busy inspecting his sword and she stealthily slipped the ring into a pocket on her cuirass just over her heart.
"Well, goodnight," Faye said pleasantly with a little wave as she hurriedly moved passed him and headed quickly for the door, wanting to get to her room so she could examine the ring closer.
Before she reached his door, however, his hand shot out and grabbed her hip from behind. With a sharp and powerful tug, he yanked her against him, her back colliding with the solid wall of his chest. Faye's body froze instantly as his fingers dug into her hipbone to hold her in place. Her breathing became erratic as his body surrounded her in warmth. The air around them suddenly became thick and heavy with unseen tension, almost as if millions of tiny electrical currents had suddenly ignited all around them.
Vilkas' hot breath fanned across the nape of her neck sending shivers down her spine as his free hand came around her body to cross over her chest. Faye's mouth dried up when Vilkas slid his hand into the pocket on her cuirass over her heart. He took his sweet-ass time pulling out the ring she'd hidden there, his fingers inadvertently brushing the top of her breast causing her lips to part with a silent moan. It was driving her insane having him this close, making her wish he would touch her more, wrap his arms around her, kiss her neck until she couldn't take it any longer…
Vilkas preened as he held the ring in between his fingers in front of her face. "Nice try, thief." His deep voice was a mere gravelly whisper by her ear. Goosebumps erupted all over Faye's arms and neck, and a warmth like no other she'd ever felt before began to gather at the pit of her stomach before slowly spreading out to her limbs in a trail of fire.
In a flash, Vilkas stepped back from her, taking his heat and his inebriating scent with him. Feeling tremors of anxiety forming within her stomach, Faye forced herself to turn around and face him. Her heart beat painfully within her chest like molten rock as she found him back on his bed reading another book, as if nothing had happened, the ring resting once again on his nightstand.
Faye swallowed the lump that had become lodged in her throat and tried to sound indifferent as she offered him an explanation. "It's very pretty, and you never wear it." She shrugged. "I just figured I'd take that pinky ring off your hands for you."
Not even bothering to look at her, he replied evenly, "It's not a pinky ring. It was my mother's. The only thing I have of her."
Faye's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Vilkas never spoke of his mother. Neither did Farkas. She shifted uneasily on her feet as she became aware that she'd inadvertently stepped onto thin ice. "Oh... uhh... I'm sorry..."
"Faye..." Vilkas muttered with grave severity in that deep, rumbling voice of his. His gaze pinned her in place, a few strands of onyx hair falling over his sharp silver eyes, and Faye felt his intense gaze could burn holes into the back of her skull. "Don't ever try to take it again."
Faye bowed her head in shame. "I... no... I won't. I... sorry..." Faye was out his door before the last word left her mouth, only then noticing he'd said her name for the first time.
The memory faded, but it left a lingering ache in her chest. Moving once more beneath his cool sheets, Faye curled up on her side, her slender arms going around her knees as she hugged them tightly to her chest. She missed him now, more than ever, but was also fearful of having everything go back to the way it was before - back to her pining for him, seeking nothing but his attention and his affection, while he ignored her. Friendship was no longer an option for them. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Faye knew she would never be satisfied with anything less than all of him. Not now. Not after she'd had a taste of him. She wanted him. All of him. Nothing less.
Faye didn't even realize she was crying until she felt the wet tracks on her face. Her body shuddered with her tears and with an ache that could not be met. She let the tears flow until there were no more left to cry, and then fell into a restless night sleep.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Brynjolf sat at the desk provided for him in his rented room at the Bannered Mare. He was bent over a piece of paper with a pen in hand writing a letter to Vipir with instructions on how he wanted the other thieves to carry out the guild's actions and jobs for the next week while he was away. The Nord paused in his writing for only a second when the candle beside him flickered and he sensed another slip in through the open window behind him. "Find anything?" Brynjolf asked without looking up, continuing with his letter.
"No. We were not followed," Karliah answered softly from where she stood in the dark corner of the room in her Nightingale armor. "I searched the city, but found no trace of Mercer or the Dark Brotherhood. We should be safe for the night."
Brynjolf nodded. "Good." The Nord dipped his pen into the ink well before stating firmly, "If Faye does not wish to become a Nightingale, Karliah, then she doesn't have too."
The Dark Elf folded her arms, eyes narrowing. "She will become one."
Brynjolf gave her a sharp look, his words coming out short and clipped. "Not if she doesn't want too. If we need a third, we will use Vex."
"Vex is not Dragonborn," Karliah answered tersely.
"No, but she is willing to sell her soul to Nocturnal." The guild master replied before returning to his letter. "I do not wish to force that upon Faye."
The Dunmer's voice turned harsh and acidic. "If Faye does not wish for me to expose her little Deathstalker secret, then she will become a Nightingale."
Brynjolf slammed his hand down hard on the desk, causing Karliah to jump at his sudden outburst. Hard-edged green irises lifted to bore into her wide violet orbs. "You will not tell a soul about that," Brynjolf threatened, his tone increasingly belligerent. "You will have your revenge, Karliah. I swear it. You do not need Faye to achieve it."
He was right, and she knew it. Yes, Faye had the ability to Shout, which made her a helpful companion during a fight, but that was about all the young Breton had going for her. She was still the weakest fighter Karliah knew. Hearing the logic in Brynjolf's words but refusing to admit that she was wrong, the Dunmer averted her gaze and snapped, "Fine."
"Good." Brynjolf dipped his pen in the ink well and was about to start writing, but when the Nightingale didn't leave, his eyes lifted to meet hers once again. "Is there something else you wished to discuss?"
The Dark Elf nodded before stepping closer to him, holding out a piece of paper.
"What's this?" Brynjolf asked, taking the paper from her extended hand.
"A letter," she answered.
The Nord resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I see that. Why are you giving it to me?"
"I think you should read it..." Karliah watched him closely as she continued, "...and then give it to Faye."
"Faye?" Brynjolf murmured as he quickly opened the letter and began reading it. There was a flicker of something in his pale green eyes before they hardened, becoming cold and emotionless, his face turning into stone before the Dunmer's very eyes. His green eyes lifted to look at her over the letter. "Has she read this?" His voice was as hard and cold as his features.
She shook her head. "No."
"Good."
Karliah's eyebrows bunched together at his reaction. "Brynjolf... I gave you that letter because I wanted you to see how much Faye means to this Vilkas. I didn't give her the letter in the first place because I wanted her to become a Nightingale so badly that I kept it from her. But now… now I know that she deserves to see those words and make her own choice. It was wrong of me to try and take that choice away from her." Karliah's voice became beseeching as she gazed into the guild master's unmoved and expressionless face. "She deserves to read that letter, Brynjolf. It's the right thing to do, and you know it."
Brynjolf stared Karliah down, his expression dark and grave, before he carefully folded the letter in his hands and held it over the flame of the candle sitting beside him on the desk.
Karliah's lavender eyes grew to the size of saucers as the parchment caught fire and slowly began to devour the heartfelt words that had been pulled from a man's heart and poured so eloquently onto the paper that was now being swallowed up by flames. She stepped forward and gasped, "What are you-?!"
Brynjolf's cold and unrelenting voice cut her off, "Speak a word of this to her, Karliah, and you can kiss your revenge goodbye. I mean it. I'll exile you from the guild, and leave you to fight Mercer and his hired assassins alone."
The Dark Elf stared disbelievingly at the Nord, astonished at the depths he would go to in order to keep the Dragonborn with him. "You cannot manipulate the heart, Brynjolf," she warned him. "It will want what it wants, no matter what you do."
A devastating look of pain and vulnerability in equal measure crossed his face as he whispered, "I want her heart to want me."
Karliah smiled sadly at the Nord as understanding dawned on her. Most of the people who made up the thieves guild were orphans, lost souls that were plucked from the herd, trained, and given a purpose. They stole for the guild, bled for it, and in return they were given possessions of their very own - a luxury they'd never known before. These lost souls tended to viciously guard their few treasures like rabid hounds, snapping viciously at any hand that dared touch and take what they considered was theirs. Brynjolf was one of these lost souls, and Faye's beauty and status as the Dragonborn had elevated her to something rare and precious to be had - a sought after priceless gem. To him, Faye was an incredible treasure that he wanted to guard and keep for himself, no matter what he had to do to keep her with him. Gallus had been the same way, so possessive of her, his little nightingale.
Overcome with pity, Karliah cleared her throat, and murmured, "This is a foolish path you have chosen, but it is yours to take." She sighed then, and decided to let the subject drop. "We must execute Mercer for his betrayal to the Guild. This is all I ask of you. I must go now. I have a few preparations to make. You and Faye, or Vex, are to meet me at the old standing stone just outside of the Southwest Gate of Riften in five days. There the trinity will be restored." The Dunmer then slipped out his window, leaving the way she came without uttering another word.