Brynjolf

Silver eyes met his as he regained his senses. She was leaning over him as he lay in his bed. A hand was on his forehead while the other was on his hand. The warmth from her touch eased the weariness he felt. In the dim candlelight, he could see the worry that creased her brow.

She slowly removed her hand from his forehead as he propped himself up on his elbows. She leaned back, sitting in the chair that was set up beside his bed. She had been watching over him. Brynjolf sat himself up, straightening his back as he stared at her. She was watching him carefully. He gave her a crooked smile, "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Did you think I would just lie down and die?" she asked with a smirk, leaving no trace of worry on her face. She must've had some mead, he thought. Silver always became testy when she drank.

Brynjolf reached out for her, his hand touching her cheek gently. Silver stared at him with wide eyes. It took her a moment, but she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand with a soft smile. In as quick as a flicker of the candle lit by his bedside, he had his free hand on her other cheek and he had pulled her into a kiss. Stiffness melted into passion as she returned his kiss. She tasted differently than he remembered. Prying himself away, he rested his forehead against hers and gently stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. Despite his stinging eyes and stomach pains, he felt at peace.

"Silver, you made me worry again," his sleep-laden voice cracked. He couldn't imagine a better way to wake up.

Her breath was caught. He pulled away to look at her and felt his stomach turn to stone. Golden irises stared at him, wide with a vast mix of emotions. Her features twisted from confusion to anger, and then to hurt. Larehil slapped his hands away and leaned back against the chair. She sat with her back straight and crossed her arms.

The back of Brynjolf's right hand instinctively went to his mouth. He had just kissed his apprentice and she had returned it. Staring at him, her mouth curved into a deep frown. "Brynjolf's up," she called out.

"Thank the gods!" Karliah entered with her apprentice, Orroc, after a short time. "Brynjolf, do you remember anything from the past few days?"

His panicked eyes were still on Larehil as he spoke, "Care to jog my memory?"

Their relationship was going to change. He had denied that she cared for him in that way, and was relieved when she denied it. He had enjoyed making Silver jealous, but it was the most enjoyment he had taken from his relationship with Larehil. He felt a mixture of guilt and sadness eating away at his insides.

Larehil occupied the only chair in the small quarters. Karliah stood by the bed, and Orroc leaned against the wall beside the closed door, as if guarding the room. The first time Brynjolf became the stand-in guildmaster while Karliah went away, he had a small, private room built for him that branched from the Cistern. Karliah had given him the key to Mercer's manor, but he never dared go near it. He had tried to stay the night there once, but the manor was empty and the bed made him ache for a certain Dunmer.

"Orroc and I found you vomiting outside the home of the Twilight Sepulcher. You had been mumbling something about Silver needing to escape and how you had to get to Windhelm. You fainted shortly after and were in and out of consciousness. You were sleep-deprived and incredibly malnourished, Brynjolf." Karliah was scolding him like a mother would her child.

Was it that bad? He didn't remember fainting. In fact, he thought he could recall the entire journey to the guild. He and Silver had lost most of their supplies in the Dwemer ruin because he hadn't been able to carry it all. They would've been fine with no food, but their weapons couldn't be left behind. It couldn't have been more than three days since he had eaten. Sleep-deprived? That was certainly true. He had slept as little as possible. When he had finally gotten Silver out of the Dwemer ruins, her terrors woke him in a matter of minutes after he had fallen asleep.

His thought of Silver caused him to cast a glance at the fuming Larehil. She was still glaring at him. They didn't look alike, he thought angrily, feeling betrayed by his mind. Larehil's cheekbones were high and her face was far more angular, bearing features common amongst the Bosmer folk. Her hair was worn as several braids, pulled back into a ponytail. She was a beautiful woman, but he didn't see her as anything more than a business acquaintance.

"We've been waiting for you to tell us what happened," Karliah interrupted his thoughts. She put her hands on her hips expectantly. "What happened to Silver?"

Brynjolf ran a hand down his face and groaned in frustration. He had been out for three days. That meant that Silver could've been killed by that man three days ago. No, he reassured himself, Ulfric needed her for something, so her life wasn't in danger.

"You're familiar with Ulfric Stormcloak?"

"Yes," Orroc and Karliah answered.

"He was after Silver," Brynjolf began. He realized that Silver hadn't explained the significance of the Word they were seeking. All he knew was that it was important to her. If it was what Ulfric had used on her, then he knew it forced her to do Ulfric's bidding.

He went on to explain what he had witnessed before Nocturnal pulled him through the shadows, rescuing him from whatever Ulfric would have done to him. The details about the Dwemer ruins seemed irrelevant to the tale of the Nordic ruin, but he did mention how they knew they had been followed into the ruins and it forced them to go deeper, rather than turn around when the going got tough.

"I often forget that she's the Dragonborn," Karliah said softly.

"That's easy to do," Brynjolf responded. "There's also been some time since her last visit. During your travels, did you hear anything about Ulfric's movements?"

Karliah and Orroc exchanged a glance. "We were in Solitude when we received your letter," Karliah said thoughtfully. "I wasn't looking for any information, so I paid little mind to the political state of Skyrim. As long as the coin is flowing, I have no need to dabble in the art."

"Some of the soldiers spoke of Ulfric being on the move," Orroc added to Karliah's statement. "They knew he had left Windhelm, but not his destination. A few days later, when we were getting ready to leave Solitude, I heard the guards talking about how Ulfric had stopped by High Hrothgar."

Brynjol's eyes narrowed, "Silver swore the vow of neutrality to the Greybeards. If anyone knew what her goal was in that ruin, it was them."

"If she truly is the Dragonborn, then you shouldn't feel like you need to protect her," Larehil scowled. "If the stories I've heard about her are true, then she probably slit his throat already."

"You don't know her like we do, Larehil," Brynjolf snapped.

"No, I don't," Larehil shrugged. "What I do know is that it takes an extraordinary woman to take your heart." She rolled her shoulders and looked to Karliah and Orroc expectantly. Brynjolf stared at her, flabbergasted.

Karliah mimicked Brynjolf's expression as she stared at Larehil. "Larehil, that's none of our business."

"It's my business now. I want to know more about her." Larehil stared at Brynjolf as if he were a piece of meat. "Every time I've asked about her, my questions get shrugged off. And you," Larehil leaned forward, pointing her index at Brynjolf, "You don't even respond to the questions. You swat them away like an angry cat. She saved the guild, yet nobody wants to talk about her?"

"That was her request," Karliah responded in a low tone. "The least we could do is honor it, after all she has done for us."

"Thieves typically seek glory," Larehil commented nonchalantly.

"She is barely a thief by nature," Brynjolf snapped at her. "Thank you, Karliah and Orroc, for bringing me home, but I need to catch up on my sleep before this conversation goes any further. All of you, get out of my room. I'll meet you all in the Cistern or Ragged Flaggon after I've had a good rest."

The room stilled and they left him after some hesitation. Lying down, he made himself comfortably and stared at the door. Of all the women for him to hallucinate into Silver, it had to be Larehil. He could understand Karliah, because at least she resemble Silver as a fellow Dunmer, but not Larehil. Her hot-headedness would never let him forget it. Not only that, but she cared for him in a way he couldn't return. The Bosmer would add to the guilt looming over his mind. No person deserved to have their heart toyed with in such a manner.

He decided that he would apologize when he didn't feel the ache of sleep to the very core of his being. Closing his eyes, he gave into his drowsiness as the image of Silver flitted through his thoughts.

Brynjolf awoke feeling ready to take on the world. His mind was still weary as it worried for Silver, but his body felt refreshed and all that remained were the pains of hunger. With his journey with Silver considered concluded, he promised himself a bath in the manor he had inherited. But first, he thought eagerly, food and company awaited him.

He exited his room to the Cistern where Vipir and a couple of new recruits were practicing with their bows. Thryrnn was standing close by, watching the newbies, conversing with Sapphire. Brynjolf was happy to see the guild busy with some activities and helping each other; it was proof that the guild was seeing better days. He scanned the area for Karliah, Orroc, or Larehil and did not find them. Assuming they would be in the Ragged Flaggon, he waved to his guildmates and moved through the Cistern to its entrance.

In the Ragged Flaggon, seated at a table in front of the bar was Delvin, Karliah, Orroc, and Larehil, as he expected. Brynjolf pulled a chair over and joined them after placing an order of food with Vekel.

"Well, if it isn't sleeping beauty," Delvin chuckled.

"How long was I out?" Brynjolf asked, his brows raised. It felt as if he had only blinked and then he was awake.

"A solid day and a half," Larehil answered. She was leaning forward over her plate, picking at some stubborn chicken meat clinging to the bone.

"Has there been any news?" Vekel dropped the plate off in front of Brynjolf before the others answered. He thanked Vekel and began shoveling the chicken, potatoes, carrots, and leeks into his mouth as if it were the first time he had seen food.

Brynjolf caught the glance Karliah and Orroc shared. "We received some news from Markarth, but we're not sure what to make of it," Orroc said carefully. The Breton apprentice was beginning to sound like his mentor, Karliah.

"Go on," Brynjolf urged him.

"There was news of a dragon taking Ulfric on its back and carrying him to Windhelm. Nobody saw the dragon land, but Ulfric returned to his castle with the Dragonborn in his arms," Karliah sounded confused and unsure. "It sounds like a story from a bar, but we heard the same account from two different people. One from Markarth, and another from Windhelm, the two stories were brought to us less than a day apart."

Brynjolf felt his stomach turn to iron. Straightening, he looked at Karliah, "I believe it." They looked at him in surprise. Ulfric's words made sense to him in that moment.

"You don't think you may have a better chance as a dragon?" Ulfric sneered.

"We were racing to the pit of the ruins for the Thu'um and Ulfric beat us to it. Whatever power it holds, it must turn her into a dragon," Brynjolf concluded aloud. Damned dragon language. He hadn't the first clue of what it was or how to understand it. It was gibberish to him. "It also gives him a certain power over her. If all it did was turn her into a dragon, then I don't think she would have shown such hatred for him."

"Are you telling us that Ulfric has a dragon in his army now?" Delvin stared, but his features were hard. Delvin was more connected in the political world. It was valuable information, no doubt.

Brynjolf hesitated. The Dragonborn was already a target, and her being seen with Ulfric could cause more tension between Tullius and Ulfric. The treaty would be broken soon, he predicted. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Brynjolf finally agreed, swallowing a mouthful of food that turned to sand.

"That doesn't mean much for the guild," Karliah commented. "Wartime means that we can offer information to both sides. It gives us more opportunity for coin"

Larehil's stare caught Brynjolf's. They locked eyes. "What're you gonna do, Bryn?"

He leaned back and crossed his arms. He glanced around the table before sighing. His mind was racing, shouting all the possibilities of her predicament at him, but he refused to give in to them. Silver was a capable warrior. She didn't need saving. Ulfric needed her, thus she would be kept alive. Wondering what Ulfric would do to her while keeping her alive, made him ill.

Brynjolf smiled sadly. What if she was chained up like she had been in the Dwemer ruin? Even then, he was certain that she could have broken herself out of there after another day or so. "I'll wait for her to return."

"She is certainly capable," Karliah said. "The divines hold her dear to her hearts based on her luck alone. Without Nocturnal, however, I worry for her," her voice fell into a dejected tone.

"Then, it's probably best that we distract ourselves before she comes back around," Larehil smirked as she continued picking at the white meat on her plate. Her golden eyes switched to Brynjolf once more. "How about it, mentor? Go for a job or two and when we get back, she'll probably be here waiting for you."

It was nice to see Larehil behaving as she always had. Going for a couple of jobs would keep his mind occupied. He would have to remind himself to speak with her before they left, however. "That sounds like a fine idea. Karliah, how long will you be in Riften?"

Karliah smiled at her old friend. "Until I hear of Silver's wellbeing. If I get any news, I'll pass it along as soon as possible."

Brynjolf returned her smile and looked at Larehil, "Which jobs did you pick up?"

"Maven wants us to go intimidate a few farms nearby. They're working together to begin harvesting honey. She wants Goldenglow to be the only one in the area shipping out honey."

Brynjolf shrugged, "That's Maven for you. Ready to go, lass?" Larehil beamed at him. He was thankful for his full belly, the strength he regained from the meal, and good night's rest. Knowing that he could do something other than sulk around the guild made him feel better about waiting for Silver to happen by if she returned to Riften. It was a welcome distraction.

They left a short time later. It was an easy job and close to Riften. They didn't have to pack much of anything. They brought only their weapons and basic essentials for a day's outing. As they departed the city, Brynjolf waved at the guards, remembering that they were the unfortunate pair collecting the "visitor's tax" for Maven.

"Larehil, I owe you an apology," Brynjolf finally said as he turned away from the guards. The sun on his skin was a welcome feeling. It had been too long since he had felt it. Closing his eyes, he basked in the warmth until a crisp autumn breeze chilled the air. It was the perfect day for a job.

"Damn right, you do," she spat at him. Her golden eyes were narrow with fury.

"I was hallucinating. I thought you were…" He hesitated. She knew who he thought she was, but yet he felt uncertain about telling her.

"Yes, yes, I know." She turned toward him, stopping in front of him. He stopped, meeting her fiery gaze. "What was with all that flirtation before you left? I thought you meant it!"

"That's how I work, Larehil. I didn't mean to cause a misunderstanding." He was remorseful. He hadn't realized the toll it took on her, but he had done it with no ill intent. Before Silver had approached him at the Ragged Flaggon, he was beginning to look at Larehil in a new light. However, the moment he left with the Dunmer, so had any thought of his apprentice. "It wasn't meant to go any further."

Her eyes widened and her shoulders slouched. He was all too familiar with the look of rejection she wore. "When Silver gets here, you can bet that I'll let her know exactly what happened," she growled, straightening once more. Her chin was raised slightly, "Unless you want to tell her yourself."

He shot her a look of malice as he stepped around her and continued walking. "I'll let her know when she isn't carrying the world on her shoulders."

"You tried it before she carried those burdens!"

He turned toward her, his jaw clenched and hands turned into a fist. She had stepped over an invisible boundary. "Larehil, it would be better if you dropped it," Brynjolf's voice dipped into a dangerous low. "That is a personal affair between the Dragonborn and myself. Not you."

Closing the distance between them, Larehil stood within her arm's length of him. "It became a problem the moment you kissed me and then had the audacity to whisper the name of another woman. It's disrespectful and a simple 'sorry' won't fix the hurt you've caused me."

He glared at the Bosmer. "Then what would you have me do, Larehil?"

Grabbing his guild armor, Larehil pulled him to her and forcefully kissed him. Rigged as a rock, Brynjolf froze, unable to respond. He hadn't been approached by a woman so boldly in a long time. It was admirable and made him feel as if he still had his old charms. But it wasn't the woman he sought. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her away.

Larehil smirked as she locked eyes with him. "You may want to be rid of me, but I won't let you. When Silver is here, I'll let her know. She could be the High Queen of Skyrim, and I would still give her a piece of my mind." She took a step back and crossed her arms. "While she's away, I'll do everything I can to make you look at me and see someone you want."

Feisty, temperamental, and stubborn. He certainly knew how to pick them, he thought. Shaking his head, he frowned. "I'll discourage you the whole way, Larehil. Let's finish this job quickly." He continued walking, exhaustion creeping into his mind. He had just woken up and already, he felt drained.

He wasn't worried about what Larehil could tell Silver. If there came a time when he could tell her, he would. However, what he feared was that the news would wreck the fragile relationship him and Silver shared. It was simple when she was a thief and visited often, but with her in and out of town, rarely seeing her, he tended to avoid her, or rather, she would avoid him.

Silver placed her duty to Skyrim far above anything else on her list of priorities. He wished that she would put him near the top. If she didn't, then perhaps Larehil had somewhat of a point. Perhaps he could return to messing around with the local women and occasional travelers without guilt. He had waited for her, but he was beginning to question the point of it. For the first time, he wondered why.

In the Dwemer ruin, she was so wrapped up in getting the Word, that he was sure she would have been perfectly content on the journey by herself.

Looking at the lake, he stared at Goldenglow Estate. He and Silver needed to talk. Anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach, making him feel ill as he began working out exactly what he would say to the Dragonborn.