Over the next few days Brynjolf found himself constantly fighting with her to stay in bed. He was sure that it drove her insane to be so limited to what she could do. But he made her a promise. As soon as she was strong enough to use her healing spells then they would be able to travel back home and he'd stop trying to help her. So she agreed.

It wasn't him helping her that made her upset. It was how every time he'd touch her that she would remember the night he had brought her home. Though she made sure to keep it hidden so he wouldn't have a clue, which she succeed it. He just assumed it was her being herself.

One thing Kira did hate was how slow their trip was. She would only be able to go for a few hours before needing to stop. The time to get to Whiterun took nearly four days instead of two.

Once they made it to town Brynjolf decided that they'd rest there for a day or two for her to gather all her strength again.

When they walked in through the door Brynjolf was shocked to find a woman taking a seat and wiping her brow. Who in the world was this?
" How are you Lydia?" Kyra asked as she placed her belongings against the wall.
" I'm well my thane."
" You looked like you've outran a clan of bandits."

Lydia gave a smile. " We are preparing for the festival my thane."

" Festival? I've never heard of Whiterun having a festival."

" The people managed to convince the Jarl that it would be good for his people. We are all going to wear masks to hide our differences and what the colors of fire. To represent every burning emotion we have. It'll give them a chance to forget all their worries. Who is this?"

Kyra looked back over at Brynjolf, who still stood there confused. Was it normal for a random woman to be in your house when you returned home?

" This is Brynjolf. He's been following me on my trips and keeping me safe." She spoke kindly.

" Ah good," Lydia stood up and glanced at him. " As long as he helps keep you safe."

" You can put your things in my room Brynjolf. I need to talk to Lydia for a moment."
He looked at her and nodded, still slightly weirded out by what exactly happened, then stepped upstairs.


Once they had settled in Kyra found herself outside wanting to help prepare for this so called festival. Luckily she managed to ask Lydia to stay at Dragon's Reach for a few days. Something told her that Brynjolf and Lydia wouldn't get along once she found out he was apart of the thieves guild, not to mention, also was the one who got Kyra involved with it.

To Brynjolf's relief she moved around with more ease and was able to do more things without pushing herself. Her strength was coming back. Only two more night with her spells and it should be completely healed. She wasn't going to plan to go to the festival when to her surprise Brynjolf convinced her to go. At first it seemed like too much of a hassle, finding a dress and mask in time. But once she got a night's rest on it, it didn't sound so bad.

Kyra stretched higher to finish lacing the decorations across the stalls. With the festival being that night they needed more hands to finish. She rose to her tippy toes, close to hooking the rope over the pole, when the kids came running around the corner. A scream escaped her lips as the barrel began to topple over.
Everyone's head turned, gasping and covering their mouths, getting ready to expect the worst.

Kyra felt herself fall back, her stomach dropping. Then the sound of the barrel hitting the floor echoed in her ears and a pair of arms came to her rescue. She peeked her eyes open and saw Brynjolf above her. Suddenly the crowd around them broke out into applaud.

" Are you ok?" He asked as he let her stand on her feet.

" Yes. I'm ok." She nodded with her heart still pounding.
" Exactly the type of reaction to expect from a nightingale."
Kyra scowled and hit him in the arm. Though his arm throbbed slightly in pain he could help but let out a chuckle.
Annoyed, she shoved the rope in his hand and marched off to do something else.

" Hey lass!"

She looked back at him with her arms crossed.

" I'll look for you tonight!"

She rolled her eyes and continued walking away. He shook his head softly then turned and reached up, hooking the rope with ease.


Kyra looked down at her dress as she held it in her hands. Brynjolf had left only a few moments before but she had yet to see him. She had no idea what he wore or how he looked, just how he had no idea how she or what she wore looked. Kyra told him that if they were going to the festival then they were going to do it the right way. He knew it was fair so he agreed.

Since the time she had bought it she made sure to keep it hidden well with in her room. Since they were sharing a bed she found it hard to keep it hidden but managed it.

Finally she began to get ready. Her skirts fell comfortably around her legs as she stepped into her shoes, which were comfortable brown flats. Next she reached for her corset and laced it up (careful not to irritate her wound). Finally she gave her hair a small brush and place the mask to her face.

The lady who sold it to her said it looked wonderful. Considered Kyra picked it out herself, she wasn't entirely sure if the woman's words were true. She wasn't normally one to pick out such things. Normally it was her younger sisters who did that for her. But there was no more time to worry about it. The festival had started and she was going to enjoy it.

Kyra had never seen Whiterun so busy in her life. People crowded around, stalls lined the streets, lights hung from roof to roof and music could be heard from every inch. She stepped through the crowd looking around in awe. Bright reds, oranges, yellows and even a few browns clustered in everything. No one could tell who was who. Men stood in their best clothes and women in their finest dresses. Yet no one wore what you'd find at a ball. No, it was all made of simple material, like cotton. Not a single inch of lace was to be seen.

She had spotted him first. Or at least she thought she did. He stood, leaning against a mead stall making conversation. He wore the typical clothing a man of the upper class would wear, only made with colors of brown, red and orange. His mask was made out of copper and fit his face well. It all made her second guess if it was him. She turned and began to look at the stalls around her. She wouldn't say anything unless she knew for sure it was him.

Brynjolf finished his laugh as he talked with a man he had made conversation with. He turned and let his eyes glaze over the crowd for a brief moment then back over to the man, not realizing Kyra was amongst them. Then something made him look back.

He caught a glimpse of blonde hair weaving in and out of the crowd. Then he saw her standing there looking at the jewelry in front of her in amazement. Her mouth slightly ajar, her lips catching the light from the rouge she had painted on them.

She turned and walked farther in, her hand reaching for a necklace. His eyes happily eyed her starting from the bottom up. She wore a dark brown dress, jagged at the bottom, with sleeves that came pointed to her middle finger. One top was a skirt of orange then another but only red, both jagged as well. His eyes moved to her waist and took notice of the maroon corset she had tied. Her mask was black and looked as if it were lace but he knew that it wasn't. Jewels were spread randomly through out toward it didn't overwhelm it, only so there would be a sparkle if she turned her head the right way.

Brynjolf felt his body tense and the grip on his mug harden. He just didn't know what to think of his comrade. He had only seen her in her armor and comfort clothes. He had seen her as his partner and someone who had his interest from day one. There were times where she'd do something that would take is breath away. But now, now all she had to do was just stand there. The night he had brought her home and saw her scar he was drowned with emotions. He remember how scared he felt when he thought their time in the cave was going to be their last, regretful that their last moments were going to be like so, happy that he had kissed her, angry that Mercer had hurt her. It all flooded over him. It all made him realize what she had done to him. He made it seem as if he were joking when he teased her about making her fall in love or how he wanted her but it was all true. And on that night, his control was loosened.

He excused himself from the man he was talking to and fished his way through the crowd.

He wanted her. No, he needed her. She drove him so crazy that he loved and hated it all at the same time. She made it hard for him to remain cool and collected whether she realized it or not. He loved the attitude she'd give him, he loved her laughs and smiles, he loved how she worked, how she'd look at you, how she wouldn't give up.

He picked up his pace slightly. Then he finally broke free of the crowd. He straightened himself out and looked up. Kyra still stood there, too mesmerized by the jewels to notice he was there. Suddenly Brynjolf felt his heart stop. She was even more beautiful up close. Her lips a bright red, her hair curled in loose ringlets, her cheeks rosy and pink.

He thought the night he saved her was the night that he'd ever come closest to loosing his control completely. By the divines was he wrong.