Thanks again to those people still supporting this story! You're amazing :)

Also I want to note there's some swearing in this chapter... usually I *try* and make the insults/curses at least somewhat fit with the Elder Scrolls universe, but I felt like I couldn't this time so eventually just gave up and left it as it is...

Chapter Twenty One

Chasing Shadows

He got caught up in business matters when he returned to Riften, so it took him a couple of days to get out of the city and find Stig. When he did wonder down to the old man's house on the lake, he found Stig sitting at a table outside enjoying one of the few last pleasant warm days before winter set in.

Stig noticed him quickly and got up with a grin. "Hey gingernuts!" Brynjolf grimaced but managed a smile despite it. "Want a mead?"

"Sure." He shrugged and sat down at the table as Stig grabbed him a bottle.

They sat at the table for quite some time in silence. It was quite lovely if Brynjolf did say so himself, but he came here for a reason not to doze off in the sun. He glanced at Stig who'd closed his eyes, but he wasn't snoring so he probably wasn't asleep.

"You owe me some answers, old man," Brynjolf started.

Stig was the only person other than Gallus, Mercer or Karliah who'd known his father as far as he knew, which was why he was questioning him. He couldn't very well question Gallus or Karliah about him, and somehow didn't feel like asking Mercer was the most tactile option all things considered given how the breton had been acting lately.

The older man opened his eyes reluctantly and looked at him. "What about?"

Brynjolf drew one of his daggers and pointed at the stone in it. "What in Oblivion is this symbol?"

"Oh God's," Stig started with a groan.

"Nay, don't oh God's me," Brynjolf interrupted perhaps a bit too rudely. "This blasted symbol's turned up twice in the last month - on documents implicating somebody as a saboteur working against the guild."

Stig was quiet for a good few minutes, groaned, and then put his chin in his palm. "Figures this eventually would come back to bite me in the ass," he grumbled to himself and then addressed Brynjolf directly. "Ever heard of the Nightingales?"

The redhead frowned as he cast his mind back as far as he could. He settled on some distance memories from his childhood and slowly responded. "Aye... my pa used to sing me a song about them."

"Your father?" Stig scoffed. "I doubt it. Your father was completely tone deaf. Eh, no offence." He gave him an empathetic look. "It would have been your mother that sang to you."

"My mother died in childbirth," Brynjolf replied carefully.

"Is that what your father told you?" Stig made a snorting sound and took a large swig of mead. "Look, sometimes I reckon you'd have been better off being raised by wolves than your father, but it's not my place-"

The redhead gave him a level, but intimidating look. "Tell me the truth."

Stig stiffened a little in hesitation. He sighed deeply though and eventually continued. "Your mother didn't die in childbirth."

Brynjolf felt an uncomfortable twisting sensation in his stomach as he realised he was probably about to be thrust into something very personal and possibly painful.

"She was murdered when you were two, maybe three."

"What?" the redhead mumbled, half in shock and disbelief.

"Bryn, I really shouldn't be telling you this," Stig started again until Brynjolf fixed him with a hard glare and eventually the older man crumbled. "Both your parents, they were part of a secret splinter group of the Thieves Guild – the Nightingales." Stig sighed deeply. "I bleeding told them it would get them killed one day... and it did."

Brynjolf's brow furrowed as more memories floated to the surface and something new occurred to him. "I've seen that same symbol somewhere else, on Gallus' ring and-"

"Karliah's bow," Stig finished somewhat grimly. "Mercer's one of them too. Or... was. I don't know if the Nightingales technically exist any more since Gallus died."

"Karliah's the one sabotaging the guild then," Brynjolf muttered softly, as far as he saw it there was no other option, Mercer couldn't be doing it unless he'd completely lost his mind. "That dunmer bitch... Phaeril has to lead me to-"

"Who in Oblivion is Phaeril?" Stig interrupted rather rudely.

The redhead blinked at him and then it dawned on him. "Lucille, her real name is Phaeril. She's... wound up in the Thieves Guild again, so to speak."

"Please tell me you haven't slept with her already."

Brynjolf scowled at him. "After everything, do you think I would-"

"You never loved anyone before her, Brynjolf, or after," Stig stated rather meaningfully and with the kind of knowing look that made him squirm. "That kind of thing stays with you whether you like it or not."

The redhead pinched his brow and then slumped back in his chair in defeat. He gave the older man a pained, helpless look. "She helped me when I was wounded instead of running away when she could have been free."

Stig narrowed his eyes at him as he considered what he was saying and Brynjolf gave an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "I don't even know what's real any more."

"I have no doubts that elf is a twisted, deranged excuse of a person," Stig started after a few moments. "But I also think she's just been a pawn in all of this, there's a game being played here Brynjolf – and someone's not going by the rules."

The redhead gave him a perplexed look but he realised after a few moments it was starting to get dark and he reluctantly stood up. "I should get back," he muttered and shoved his hands in his pockets. "It was good to see you again."

Stig nodded but then gave him a serious look. "Be careful, Bryn," he warned.

The redhead frowned once more with a pained expression but turned on his heels and walked off.

o0o

When he returned to the Thieves Guild he was so deep in his own thoughts about his parents and melancholy that he didn't notice at first that Vex was back, until Mercer very literally grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to his desk.

"What are you-" Brynjolf started in surprise.

"We found the dunmer murderer," Mercer blurted out. The redhead froze.

"Gulum-Ei told me it's Karliah that's been sabotaging us," Vex said softly, though he already knew that and had intended to tell Mercer sooner or later, preferably after he'd sorted his wayward emotions out. Vex was frowning but continued regardless. "He said we'd find her at the beginning of the end."

"Snowveil Sanctum," Brynjolf murmured to himself.

"Exactly." Mercer's lips twitched into a hungry smile and his fingers curled around the necklace he never took off. "Pack your bags Brynjolf, we're going after her tomorrow before she gets away again."

He didn't know what to say, there were too many emotions flooding through him. At first he'd been thrilled to finally track down the person he'd wanted to kill for over two decades. But then everything, all the doubt he'd been feeling for the last couple of weeks, crashed into him. He felt torn, as if he wasn't sure what he was meant to think... then he remembered the look on Gallus' face when he'd died and his desire for vengeance overtook any other emotion.

o0o

The arrow flew so fast that he couldn't have hoped to even try and dodge it. It landed with a dull thud in Brynjolf's shoulder. He grunted and his vision became hazy. His muscles seized up and he collapsed to the ground moments later, unable to move and his eyes forced open.

A figure sauntered down the steps in the room with a bow in their hands. It was Karliah without a doubt, even with a hood up he knew it was her. He would have growled if he could have. Mercer stepped up to the dunmer, cocked his head and flexed his muscles. They were in Snowveil Sanctum, and evidently had just been ambushed.

"Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?" Mercer drawled, one of his blades poised to strike at a moments notice.

Karliah snarled at him. "Give me a reason to try."

"You're a clever girl, Karliah," he replied. "Bringing the guild down by driving a wedge between us and Maven like that."

"To ensure an enemies defeat, you must first undermine his allies." Brynjolf had heard that line before, but it hadn't come from Karliah. "Gallus taught us that." That would be were he'd heard it the first time.

Mercer shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "You always were a quick study."

"Not quick enough!" Karliah screamed. It didn't sound like her. In all the time Brynjolf had known her, she'd never raised her voice like that, growled or threatened perhaps, but never screamed... "Otherwise Gallus would still be alive."

If the redhead could have frowned, he would have. That wasn't particularly what he'd expected to hear.

"Gallus had his wealth and he had you." Mercer sneered at her and Brynjolf felt increasingly like he had absolutely no idea what the heck was going on. "All he had to do was look the other way."

"Did you forget the oath we took as Nightingales?" Karliah growled, but she sheathed her bow now, obviously knowing she couldn't take on the breton in close combat. "Did you forget everything Gallus did for you, for the guild?"

"Enough of this!" Mercer swiped the air with his blade, taunting her. "It's time for you to join Gallus. At least this time I won't have to blackmail that useless bosmer."

She pulled a potion from her armour and drank it in one swift movement, far too quickly for the breton to be able to stop her. She disappeared in an instant, the only proof that she was still in the room was her voice. "I'm no fool, Mercer. Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence."

Even as she spoke Brynjolf heard her footsteps as she left. Mercer didn't pursue her at first, though even if he did he would have been attacking someone invisible, which would be in vain.

"Your greed has corrupted you more than you know, and the next time we meet it will be your undoing."

Those were the last words Brynjolf heard of the elf. Mercer's eyes did try and follow her voice and pinpoint her, but after a few moments he seemed to give up and turned to the redhead. Brynjol tried with all his strength to get away, but the poison paralysing him was too strong and he could do nothing as the breton loomed over him.

"Funny how history repeats itself, though this time I'll get the job done properly," Mercer murmured as he crouched down before Brynjolf, blade still in hand. "Does it surprise you?" The breton sneered at him and pressed the tip of his blade to Brynjolf's chest ever so lightly. "Karliah never performed the black sacrament, it was me."

Mercer drove the blade hard into the redhead. It was excruciating, even with the paralysis but he couldn't scream, couldn't do anything. The breton sheathed his weapon and stood up, giving him one final look.

"Do you know your little pet bosmer actually hesitated in killing Gallus because of you?" Mercer laughed dryly and stepped away. "Stupid girl. Now, where's that diary..."

Brynjolf didn't see or hear anything else because he passed out moments later.

o0o

He felt like absolute crap the next time he woke up. His body ached, his head was throbbing awfully and his vision was still a bit off. Perhaps a bit stupidly, he tried to get up, but part of him was screaming to get to his feet because he had no idea how long he'd been passed out for or if he was vulnerable or safe.

"Easy," someone chided and pushed him back down onto his back. He struggled against them and they snapped at him a little angrily. "Easy, damnit!"

Brynjolf's gaze eventually settled on Karliah and he jerked away from her. She gave him an exhausted, frustrated look but he merely pointed a finger at her accusingly. "What the fuck is going on?"

"By the God's, just stay still you fool!" He actually blinked and obeyed her. She was quite good at sounding bossy and he'd always been somewhat intimidated by her. "You'll rip your damn wounds open."

He frowned. Now that he thought about it his chest was sore and he glanced down his body. He had a new large bandage around his chest and shoulders were his healing dragon wounds were and... were Mercer had stabbed him and Karliah shot him. He really needed to stop getting beat up all the time, it wasn't good for his continuing health. Vex would have a go at him if she found out.

A moments silence passed and then he mumbled to himself. "Mercer ordered Gallus' murder... Fuck." He groaned loudly. "Fuck!"

"Indeed," Karliah drawled but fixed him with a chastising look. "I'm a bit offended you actually believed Mercer. For the love of Nocturnal... did you really think I would kill Gallus?"

"I... God's, I don't know any more." Brynjolf hung his head in defeat and perhaps a little bit of shame. Then he glanced up at her and narrowed his eyes. "You tried to kill me and Frederick in Snowveil Sanctum right after Gallus died."

"No, I didn't. I've never set foot in that blasted place before now." He realised then they were outside the crypt at what he presumed was her campsite.

"But an elf ambushed us-"

"Oh, because that really means it was me," she replied sarcastically. When she put it that way it made him feel rather sheepish. Karliah always was rather good at that for some reason. It was true – she really did intimidate him. Gallus used to find it funny.

Brynjolf cursed and made an attempt to raise a hand to his forehead, before reasoning against it because it hurt too much. Karliah probably tended to his wounds as best she could, but she couldn't cast restoration magic and she might not have had the right reagents to make a potent enough healing potion – though she was a skilled alchemist.

Something occurred to him then and he shot Karliah a worried look. "Mercer mentioned a diary."

"Yes... Gallus' diary. He gave it to me to keep it safe before he died." She bit at her lip. "Mercer must have stolen it from my campsite while I was tending to you in the crypt."

"Why is it so important?"

"I don't know, it was written in falmer text so I couldn't read it..." Karliah pinched her brow. "But I think it probably contained proof of Mercer's guilt."

Brynjolf very slowly and carefully eased himself into a sitting position. "You mean aside from the fact he killed Gallus?"

"Yes, proof of why Mercer needed Gallus dead in the first place." She sighed and a pained look passed over her features. "Gallus never told me the entirety of what was going on – stupid fool wanted to protect me."

"I know how that feels," Brynjolf murmured offhandedly but she continued on.

"We have to find him and that diary. Mercer wouldn't have wanted Gallus dead for a trivial reason."

The redhead shook his head to dislodge his hair a little bit. It was starting to get matted and felt horribly dirty – he couldn't remember the last time he washed, it was... unpleasant. "Do you have any idea what to do?"

"Enthir," she whispered carefully. "He's a scholar, a mage in Winterhold, and one of the few people Gallus trusted, especially outside the guild. He'd know how to translate the diary, Mercer has to have gone to him."

"If Enthir knew how to translate the diary why didn't you just go see him in the first place?" Brynjolf challenged.

"Mercer convinced Enthir I was the one responsible for Gallus' death," she told him and then scowled. "I almost died trying to see him two decades ago, he attacked me on sight. But he knew about you." She gave him a pointed look. "He'll believe you."

Brynjolf nodded as Karliah got to her feet and started to pack her belongings. "We'll need to steal some horses to travel faster," she explained as he stood up (very carefully.) "Mercer stole mine, but we'd need two anyway, he's probably already got at least a day on us – maybe more."

"Aye."

Her possessions packed, she started walking and he fell into step beside her. He was a bit stiff, but he was managing. After a few moments he gave her an accusing look. "You shot me."

"My arrow was tipped with a paralytic poison. I'd intended to use it on Mercer, but it actually kept you alive and stopped you bleeding out until I could help you." She glowered ever so slightly at him for his ungratefulness. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Oh, just admit it lass," he chided with a chuckle. "You've wanted to hit me for years."

"True." She grinned at him. "Sometimes beating you is the only way to get any sense into that thick skull of yours."