Hey all you readers, reviewers, and lurkers :) As always, thank you for your time :)
And another note: Sadly, there is no Stone of Barenziah in the Castle Fletcher's, but for the purposes of this story, let's just pretend there is one.
-)
Evening Star heralded its arrival with a snowfall like none other. Even Riften, usually one of the warmer cities in Skyrim, had a thick coating of the white stuff before the first week was out. It made the Cistern rather miserable in the temperature department, so much so that we took to building a permanent fire on the circular dais in the middle of the room. And, after an incident where a drunken Thrynn nearly pissed it out, we also appointed someone to look after it. And after another incident where Niruin woke up with frostbitten fingers, Mercer actually ordered us to share beds or somethingbecause it was just too damn cold to sleep alone. Most of the time, I ended up sharing a cot with Tonilia, who was half-jokingly pining for her beloved Hammerfell by this point. I could sympathize, being from the province with the giant volcano, and all.
I continued doing odd jobs for the Guild throughout most of Evening Star. Nothing too big had come through as of late. There had been no progress on that strange symbol on the Goldenglow Note or the Honningbrew one. I was almost beginning to lose faith in our contacts. Delvin and Vex kept me busy doing all sorts of jobs, though—Bedlam, Numbers, Shill, you name it.
And speaking of Vex and Delvin, it was during the beginning of Evening Star that the latter came to me, seemingly embarrassed. "Hey, Tiberia," Delvin said as I methodically hacked and slashed at a training dummy. "Can I ask you something?"
I paused, and sheathed my swords. "Sure," I said, leaning against the wall. "What do you need?"
"Do you know if… well, if Vex…" He was flushing crimson. "…Never mind."
I cocked an eyebrow. "Do I know if Vex… what? If she'd take you seriously as far as romance is concerned? Sure, why not."
"I wasn't going to say that!" Delvin exclaimed, his face giving him away.
"Sure you weren't," I smirked. "And you want my advice? Just go for it, Delvin! Good gods! The whole Guild sees the way you look at her—we aren't blind, you know—and she isn't otherwise entertained, so it's the perfect time to strike. What are you waiting for?"
"A sign that she won't chop my head off if I ask," Delvin muttered.
"So long as you ask," I said pointedly, "I don't think you'll have much of an issue."
So, that was how Vex and Delvin got together. I thought they were a pretty strange couple at first, but I got used to the idea as life wore on. Brynjolf found it less strange than I did, but given the fact that Delvin was one of his best friends within the Guild, it probably came more as relief than anything else. Unrequited love gets so old.
Speaking of Brynjolf, there was one afternoon where he and I sat at the Bee and Barb in civilian garb, just drinking and breaking bread, when a stupid Courier nearly got me caught.
It had begun like most nights at Keerava's inn, the two of us just drinking and sharing stories. At that moment, we were talking about what the Guild usually did for the New Life Festival at the end of the month. "…So basically, everyone brings hot food and a case of booze to the Flagon," Brynjolf said, "and we dance and drink 'til everything's gone." He half shrugged, half smiled. "Even Thieves need a day off."
"Sounds like my kind of party," I laughed, punctuating the sentence with a swig from my tankard. "I take it the Black-Briars turn up their noble noses at such a vulgar holiday?"
He caught my sarcasm with a smirk. "Ingun and Sibbi used to show up sometimes when we were all younger, but Hemming and Maven have always kept their distance."
My eyebrow rose despite itself. "How much younger is 'younger?'"
Brynjolf laughed. "Since my first days with the Guild. Back when I was just a lad."
Now he had me really curious. "How long have you been in the Guild, Bryn?"
Brynjolf's countenance darkened. "Since I was a boy, really. I lived around it—my parents were damn good thieves—but my brother and I couldn't join until we were old enough to 'know what we were doing…'" He half laughed at that. "As Mercer put it."
"A family of thieves, eh?" I noted.
He shrugged. "In a way, I suppose. My older brother was the one that wanted in the Guild, though—I just had nowhere else to go, once our parents took the trip to Sovngarde."
"I'm sorry," I said automatically, but with meaning behind the words.
"Thanks," he said, offhandedly, "but it was a long time ago, lass. They mostly ran under Gallus."
"Gallus? Who's Gallus?"
Brynjolf appraised me over the rim of his tankard, as though debating something in his mind. He does this a lot, I've discovered. "He was the one in charge of the Guild before Mercer. Legend has it, he was murdered by his lass."
Before I could reply, the doors to the Bee and Barb were flung open, and Keerava and a rather aggressive snow flurry were ushered inside. "Tiberia! Brynjolf!" She called when she saw us, coming over to our table. "Have you seen Talen-Jei anywhere? It's important!"
She was positively glowing. "No, we haven't," Brynjolf answered. "Apologies."
"What's so important, Keerava?" I asked. "You have big news; it's written all over your face."
Her grin was ear-hole to ear-hole. "We're expecting hatchlings! The Healer just told me."
My eyes were wide. "Are you serious?" She nodded. "That's wonderful!"
"Congratulations," Brynjolf offered, and I could tell he was feeling distinctly out of place.
Keerava was beaming as she disappeared again to go find her husband, and Brynjolf turned to me with an unreadable expression on his face. All he said was, "Baby. Argonians. In Riften."
I shook my head. "Shadows preserve us."
His brow furrowed. "What?"
"Shadows… preserve us? It's a Daedric blessing. Akin to 'gods save us...'"
That didn't cure his confusion, it seemed. "That's what she always used to say…"
"She?" I asked.
"Karliah," he said, as though I were supposed to know the name.
And once again, I was prevented from answering by that damnable door. This time, however, it was a Courier who tracked in snow. He glanced about the room, clearly looking for someone. He then made a beeline for our table, and fear sank like a lodestone in my gut. "Are you Ice-Veins?" He asked bluntly.
"Aye," I said cautiously, setting my tankard down. "Need something?"
"I have a letter and a package for you," he said, rummaging about his knapsack for a moment before presenting the paper to me, along with an elongated, brown-papered parcel. "It's from a stocky, older gentleman in Windhelm, if memory serves. Happy New Life!"
"Same to you," I said as he left. He had to have been talking about Galmar—no way would Ulfric be stupid enough to have this traced back to him.
"Ice-Veins?" Brynjolf asked with a hastily concealed smirk, mildly curious as always.
I shrugged and forced myself to laugh. "That's what my Uncle calls me. 'The ice and snow of Skyrim runs in your veins, Tiberia. How were you born in Morrowind?'" My impression of Ulfric was uncanny, Jorleif often told me.
Brynjolf's smirk came out of hiding. "A political way of telling you you're a cold-hearted bitch?"
"Pretty much," I said with an honest laugh, unfolding the letter as though it were going to explode in my hands. I glanced to the name at the bottom, and my suspicions were confirmed. This was from Ulfric, all right. "Aye, it is my Uncle."
Morwyn,
Your lack of letters as of late has me, admittedly, worried for your safety and more than a bit concerned. Are you not safe enough to write? Is that Brynjolf fellow onto your ruse? Or Tonilia, the Redguard woman? Or worse, Mercer Frey himself? Now that's a name all of Skyrim knows—the infamous leader of the Thieves Guild. If they are, just say the word, and a full unit of Stormcloak soldiers will be in Riften before the week is out—with myself at the head.
The War Effort goes well, despite the loss of our Dovahkiin. We eagerly await your safe return to Windhelm, for your arrival marks the beginning of the assault on Solitude. I believe our ranks will be ready within the month to, at the very least, march on Whiterun. I hope to see you at your rightful place by then—on the frontlines, alongside myself, Galmar, and Calder. Your housecarl says hello, by the way, and that he prays for your safe return. (You know, Jorleif and I think he rather fancies you—and you could do a lot worse than a good Nord like Calder.)
In the interest of your safety, how long do you figure you'll be in Riften? Knowing you, you'll want out of that town as fast as possible. And I only ask in the interest of keeping your absence a secret; much longer, and the men will start to question where my general's gone. We'll have to come up with a better cover story.
As for your question—yes, the Dunmer of Windhelm live in the Gray Quarter. But did you ever think they're there so that I can protect them from the Rolff Stone-Fists of the world? Not every Nord is so open-minded as myself.
Talos guide and keep you,
Ulfric
P.S.—Happy New Life! You'll find a gift from myself, Galmar, Jorleif, and Wuunferth enclosed.
"You never mentioned you had an Uncle," Brynjolf jokingly scolded as I folded up the letter and stuck it in my pocket with a mental note to first write a succinct reply then throw it in the fire.
"It never came up in conversation," I said semi-sheepishly, my heart still beating wildly from that narrow escape. Had the Courier been any stupider, called me Morwyn… Hell, I didn't even want to think about it. Instead I appraised the parcel. "Not sure if I want to open this…"
"Of course you do," Brynjolf scoffed. "You're always so bloody curious."
"This is true," I admitted with a laugh as I slid a dagger under the string and cut it. The paper fell away to reveal an enchanted Dwarven bow—not cheap, I knew, but my buddies in Windhelmknew I never used bows. "Oh." I could feel my face fall at Ulfric's callousness. He was like every other politician—throwing money at things, instead of truly looking at them.
Brynjolf cocked an eyebrow. "What's the matter?"
I shook my head, coming up with a quick cover story. "My Uncle means well, but he's getting on in years. Confuses me with my sisters." I tapped the bow in my lap. "My oldest sister Neva is the archer." That much was true.
Brynjolf's eyes widened in mock shock. "There are more of you?"
I stuck my tongue out at him. "I'm the only one of the sisters in Skyrim, calm down." I appraised the bow again. "I'll see if Cynric or Niruin wants this. They'll get better use out of it than I will."
We left our gold on the table and disappeared into the Ratway.
-)
The best job I think I ever pulled happened later that week. And I don't mean that by means of gold—personally, I think this was my favorite because of the involved parties. Tonilia came out of hiding for a bit of fun, and Mercer sent me along to make sure she didn't get herself killed doing something stupid. "It's mostly for Vekel," Mercer told me quietly over the desk the morning we left. "The man's beside himself with worry, but every man knows arguing with a woman who's made up her mind is just folly."
So she and I were on a Heist job to Solitude, stealing a Copper and Moonstone Circlet from the Fletcher's house. (I'm still not sure why a Fletcher had that, but whatever.) The carriage ride across Skyrim offered plenty of opportunity to share stories and mead, which we did. By the time he dropped us off in Solitude, I think the driver was glad to be rid of us.
I was itching to be a thorn in the Empire's side, now matter how slight the offense would be. And Tonilia? She just missed larceny. The thrill, the adrenaline, the pride of a job well done. "Are we clear on the plan?" she asked me as we rounded the steps up to the Fletcher's shop. It was getting close to eight o'clock—right when most stores were closing.
"Crystal," I said with a grin.
She pushed open the door to the Castle Fletcher's saying, "…Archery is obviously the way to go, Little Elf, and I'm done arguing such a stupid point with you!"
"Don't call me 'Little Elf,'" I hissed. "There is one man in Tamriel who can get away with calling me that, and clearly you are not him. And I've killed scores of dragons without a bloody bow!"
"Can I help you ladies with anything?" the Redguard man behind the counter called.
"Yes, sorry," Tonilia said sheepishly, fully coming in front of the counter now. "I came in here to purchase a few things. My sister, here." She nudged me with an elbow, and I shoved back. "Just doesn't understand the finer points of archery."
I snorted. "Something needs to have 'points' to have 'finer points,' my friend."
Tonilia rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter in such a way that accentuated her fit, lithe form, as well as a few other assets. I watched the shopkeeper's eyes follow her change of position and knew she had him caught. "So, care to do some bartering?"
"Of course," the merchant said smoothly, and I walked away from the two Redguards, pacing the store as though bored.
I waited another moment or so before slipping into the living quarters of the place. I tiptoed up the steps and found the circlet quickly enough—the thing was sitting in plain sight. Well that was no fun. But as I turned, I saw something sitting on the side table: a strange stone that seemed to give off its own light, the luster was so bright. It was geometrically a diamond, but a rich pink color that advertised it wasn't technically that particular stone. Nestled in a gold plated box, it seemed to wink at me through the twilight. I grinned and realized that I'd found what to get Brynjolf for New Life. (I'd been feeling bad about that as the month progressed. There were a few people I needed to find things for: Brynjolf, Brand-Shei, Keerava, and Tonilia.)
I materialized in the main room a moment or so later, and Tonilia still had the shopkeeper enthralled. I made a show of walking loudly and they both snapped to attention. The merchant seemed to forget I had even been there, and Tonilia was looking relieved. "I'll just take the glass ones, then, and be off." She gave her sincerest smile.
The shopkeeper bundled some glass arrows up for her with a hearty, "Do come back! Always a pleasure to meet another Redguard—particularly one so good with a bow."
The night was pitch black by the time we escaped Solitude and found a carriage to take us back to Riften. We were both hyped up from the successful job, but refrained from talking about it openly in front of the driver. We spoke in code, in "Wasn't that awesome!"s and "Did you see his face?"s. But as the moons rose, the lull of being on the road nearly had me asleep. So naturally, that was when Tonilia asked the million-Septim question: "So Tiberia, tell me—is there something going on between you and Brynjolf I should know about?"
My eyes snapped open, and I was now fully awake. She sounded like a jokingly scolding older sister who was genuinely curious, but I was far too paranoid to take anything at face value anymore. "Depends on why you want to know," I said, half-jokingly, half-seriously.
She smiled softly. "Because I look after my Guild siblings."
I sighed, planting my feet firmly on the floor of the carriage, my elbows on my knees, and my head in my hands. "I don't know," I said honestly. "Sometimes I think yes, sometimes no. Sometimes I don't want to know."
"You'd best watch yourself, Tiberia," Tonilia said, and it wasn't a threat, but a warning. "Brynjolf's confusing at the best of times."
I paused, my head coming out of my hands as my head cocked to the side to appraise her that much better. "It was Bryn, wasn't it?" I asked quietly, thinking back to the conversation we'd had when I first donned the armor of the Guild. "The one who burned you?"
That silenced her for a solid minute. "Yes," she said, so quietly I almost lost it amongst the creaking of the wagon and the clopping of hooves. "Brynjolf and I… well, we were together for a while. But we were younger then, stupider." She sighed, but when she picked up her head to look at me she had the fire in her eyes. "But my mistakes are not yours. Just be honest with him, Tiberia. The Guild's already falling apart; we don't need him trying to run the place with a broken heart." She paused. "I'm not sure even Brynjolf is tough enough for that."
I thought of Vilkas, and the mistakes he'd made as Harbinger that I still heard Aela gripe about good-naturedly from time to time. Most of those had been made right after we…
"Oh Azura, preserve me," I whispered. I didn't need the metaphorical blood of another organization on my hands.
