Oh my lord...these Brynjolf chapters are starting to test my knowledge of Roman numerals. What the hell prompted me to start titling my chapters that way?
Anyway, I read a really great chapter of one of zevgirl's stories a while back. I was inspired to attempt something she accomplished with it – communication without having both characters actually present together. I'm not sure if my attempts have worked out, but here goes anyhow…
And yes. If you are a fan of Dragon Age, you should check out her story, Release from the Chains. Brilliant!
Thanks for all the new reviews, faves, alerts, etc. You guys rawk!
Right then…on with the show…
Brynjolf IX
I must leave you tonight my love
Remain so faithfully
I must go off to war my dear
The kings await me
I will go so far away
I will always love you
But you knew
'Save Me', The Tea Party (Martin, Chatwood, Burrows)
Brynjolf knew what she told him.
I will likely be gone for a long while. I have much business to attend to, but I will return. And I'll think of you in every waking moment…and see you in my dreams…
He remembered the look in her eyes…the longing that she wanted to fulfill, but had to let stay. That look had been given more than a few times – every time they were forced to part. He knew she wanted to stay. Gods, he'd have given everything for her to stay. Though she never could. She had her life, and as intertwined as it was becoming with his own, there were still some things she felt she needed to do on her own.
He tried desperately not to worry about her. He knew how Marieka felt about being fussed over in that way. But it still became difficult as the days passed to not wonder of her fate as he continued to hear nothing of her whereabouts.
This must have been exactly how her husband felt…once upon a time…
He shook his head. No. I am not that man.
Despite the fact that Marieka and Onmund had been untrue to each other, Brynjolf believed that it wouldn't happen with them. She had been nothing but honest about her actions…her intentions…everything from the moment they met. And the things that she did hold back from him were for good reason. He understood her motivations for that. It's not everyone who has to admit they are of dragon blood.
No, his worry for her was not that she had found someone new to latch on to. His worries were for the dangers she continually found herself in. He'd witnessed her near death on several occasions. Or heard of it after the fact. He wasn't sure what was worse.
He looked around the Riften marketplace. The day was slow. Barely anyone was perusing the wares of any of the merchants, his included. He didn't even know why he kept up the appearances of the stall now that the Guild was humming along at a good pace. He supposed it was for posterity's sake. Perhaps more so because it got him out of the dank sewers of the cistern. The Guild would always be home, but sometimes he just needed air…space to move without the eyes of his fellow thieves upon him. They eyed him with suspicion more these days – with good reason, he admitted. It was quite evident to the rest of them that something was going on between he and Marieka, and he knew they were all quite concerned over the potential for nepotism. He knew she didn't seek preferential treatment in the Guild, but then, they didn't know her like he did. Maybe it was time to just…come out with it. To admit what was going on, and move on with their lives. But every time that thought popped into his head, he considered Karliah and Gallus, and just how their lives had been torn apart because someone knew how to manipulate their feelings towards each other.
Of course…in this case, that someone was dead…
As he stood, lost in thought, he noticed a young man approaching his stall. He straightened up to greet him, hoping for a good sale with this potential customer.
"Good day there, lad," he said with a salesman's smile. "Looking for a cure for what ails you? Or hmm…young man like you could do with a love potion, no?"
The man's cheeks tinged slightly at the implication, as he cleared his throat. "Uh, no," he replied quickly. "I'm not here to purchase anything."
Brynjolf groaned, disappointed. "What are you here for then?"
"I was sent to find a tall, fiery-haired Nord in the market named Brynjolf," he said, looking around at the other merchants. "You seem to be the only Nord merchant, and so I had hoped…"
"Aye, lad," he replied, cutting the young man off. "You've found him. What is the nature of your inquiry?"
"No inquiry," he said. He stuck his hand out with a folded and sealed piece of parchment in his grip. "Correspondence for you."
"A letter?" he said, now recognizing the man as a courier. "Who sent this?"
"Didn't say," the courier replied. "Though she had these strange markings on her face. Around her eyes…and here." He pointed at his chin.
"Marieka!" he exclaimed. He immediately worked at the seal to remove it, wanting to discover what she'd been up to so badly. The courier turned to leave, but Brynjolf interrupted him. "Say, you aren't planning on being in Riften for long, are you?"
"Perhaps," he replied. "Why do you ask?"
"I may have correspondence to send back," he said, shrugging. "I'd make it worth your while to stay. Where did you bring this from?"
"Windhelm."
"Windhelm?" he repeated. "What is she doing there?"
The courier shrugged. "Should I meet you later?"
"I'll drop by the Bee and Barb once the market closes for the day," Brynjolf advised.
"Fair enough," he replied, heading off as the thief returned to his letter.
When he peeled the seal off, careful not to rip the parchment, he unfolded the letter. He realized it was the first time he'd seen her cursive. The script was shaky…looked almost hurried, but was legible. He leaned back upon the half wall of stone that wrapped around the back area where his stall stood. His anticipation of what she had to say got the better of him, and he stopped thinking of how her writing appeared, and just settled down to read it.
My dearest Brynjolf…
He could almost hear her say the words.
By now, I suspect that you have plied the courier I have hired to deliver this to you for as much information as you possibly could regarding my whereabouts. Rest assured, he knows nothing more than where I am at the moment, and you should not perceive his lack of knowledge to be a lie on his part.
He smiled. She knew him too well already. How did she know his very thoughts so often? It was as though he were a book that she read…over and over…until she knew him better than he knew himself.
I have been procuring some rare alchemical ingredients in my travels, which have taken me to some new settlements across the province. It also hasn't hurt that I picked up a few jobs to take care of from Vex and Delvin before I set off. A few of them were in Windhelm, so I thought I'd visit the city and see what was happening there. It's quite a beautiful place, actually. The architecture here is terrific – and old! This city has more history than anywhere I've been before. Perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit. I have seen some awfully old crypts and things. Regardless, there are many stories hidden behind the great walls of it.
Her words brought back memories of the time he spent in the city as a youth. He recalled the Palace of the Kings and its sheer size. It was majestic to view for the first time, and could only imagine the look on her face when she initially laid eyes upon it. And that place…oh, it did hold history. So much of it that in the several years he'd lived there, he'd only begun to scratch the surface of all that had happened in Windhelm.
I'd all but forgotten before I arrived here that this is the seat of power for the Stormcloaks and their rebellion. In fact, you might be surprised to learn that my path has already crossed with that of Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl.
Surprised? No…not at all, actually…
There were several murders of young women that had occurred in the city before I arrived. With the war brewing with the Imperials, it seemed that the city guard were focused on…hmm…other things I suppose. So, you know me. I can't stay out of things like that. I volunteered to help.
Of course she did. He wouldn't have expected any less.
And when I sought out the steward of the Jarl to ask for permission, I instead found Ulfric. With all the rumours of his murdering the High King by shouting at him, I expected him to be…well, let me just say that he's not what I expected. He's taken a bit of interest in me, and asked if I wished to take part in the rebellion.
Brynjolf felt a twinge of jealousy pick at his stomach. This man…this Ulfric, the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion, was spending time with his Marieka. Time that he wished he could spend with her himself. He furrowed his brow, surprised at his own reaction.
I hope that you will not be upset…or disappointed, but given my own experiences with the Empire, I decided to offer myself to the cause. I've already completed somewhat of an initiation to the Stormcloaks and we searched a very old ruin for the Jagged Crown. I'd never heard of it, but being that you're a Nord, and know your history – especially where old treasures are concerned – I would imagine you know what it is.
He nodded to himself, knowing exactly what the Crown was, and what it represented. A very powerful symbol for whoever held it in their possession. And Marieka had assisted the potential future High King of Skyrim to obtain it. An impressive feat, though it did not do anything for the covetous feelings that continued to well up inside him.
Frankly, I'm surprised he's been so accepting of my assistance. He seems to distrust outsiders. Or perhaps it's just the Mer, but I suppose he has his reasons. I hope to learn more from him regarding why he's made the decisions he's made – particularly in relation to the elves in Windhelm…and the Argonians. He also doesn't seem to care much for those in our line of work. But don't worry, love…I haven't let on what I do. And I plan to help him see our side of the story at some point. If he doesn't, I still hope to establish a strong footing for the Guild in Windhelm. Let Delvin know that the next time he's drowning his sorrows in a mug of mead. Perhaps it'll put a smile upon his face.
Despite her reassurances, he still felt nervous about what she was telling him. He worried that she was getting too involved with Ulfric and his rebellion. Or, that could have just been the jealousy talking again.
I would have written to you sooner, but it has been a tremendously busy time for me. I'm sure you can imagine. Now I have been tasked to speak to the Jarl in Whiterun regarding their stance on the war that is brewing. Ulfric is forcing Whiterun to choose a side. This is a bit of a frightening prospect. If he sides with the Stormcloaks, the Empire will come down hard upon the city. But if Balgruuf chooses the Imperials…it's not going to be pretty. I suspect I will be sent off to the city if that happens. But, that is for another time to discuss. For now, I will make my way there to present the opportunity for Balgruuf to make his decision. I plan to return to Windhelm once that happens. I have some loose ends to tie up regarding one of Vex's jobs.
His shoulders tightened as he read her letter. She was becoming a pawn in the war between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks. It did nothing for his level of worry for her. She was her own woman, and she deserved to be able to make her own choices…but it didn't make being the man in his position any easier.
I wish you could be holding me right now instead of this letter, but unfortunately I have involved myself in something I just couldn't keep out of. I hope you understand, Bryn.
Of course he understood. It was who she was.
I will return to Riften the moment all this blows over. With any luck, Balgruuf will side with the Stormcloaks, and my task will be complete. And I will return to your arms once again. Mara as my witness, I have never ached to see your face so much. I miss you terribly Bryn. I miss your scent. I miss the sound of your voice. I even miss when you call me 'lass'. Actually, I especially miss when you call me that. There's nothing more that I want right now than to feel your strong arms wrapped around me, love. Have no fear that I will rush back to your side the second I can. By the gods Bryn...why am I so in love with you?
He wondered that himself sometimes. He smiled once again as he read through her professions of longing. Similar thoughts had been filling his head these days. He missed sitting with her in the dim light of Honeyside, as her eyes sparkled from the glow of the fire in the hearth. Her laugh – that truly infectious laugh she let loose when the two were hidden away from the rest of the world together. The secretive smiles she'd give him from across a room when she knew no one else was looking. The way they could lounge about in bed for hours of the day when there was no other important business to attend to; when she was comfortable enough to share long-buried tales of her life with him. But most of all, he just missed her. Just having her with him was quickly becoming the best feeling in the world. Better than a successful heist...or a cold mug of mead after a long day. Better than all the coin one could imagine.
I hope you have taken me up on my offer to spend some more time at Honeyside. I've advised Iona that you may decide to stay and that the two of you can work out how much time you'd like to be there. She's told me that she'll be more than happy to visit her betrothed. In fact, I think she's hoping that you might move your residence there permanently. She knows that I'll release her from her duties as housecarl if that happens. I'd not be unhappy if when I returned to Riften, you had decided to be there waiting for me. How lovely of a thought is that? Sharing my home and bed with you until our last breath. Please tell me you'll make it so.
He hadn't yet gone to Honeyside since she'd left on this journey. He wasn't sure what to say to Iona, though now that he knew she was aware of it, perhaps he'd mull it over. Still, the house would be lonely without Marieka. Her imprint was on everything in it – being reminded of her in her absence was bittersweet. For one thing, he loved the idea of waking up in her bed – in their bed if she had her way – surrounded by things that belonged to her. But constantly being reminded of her would make her return seem that much further off. He'd consider it at least. Perhaps he'd stop by...see if he couldn't work something out with Iona. After all, she hoped to leave the home for a short while at least – this would be more for her than it was for him. Or at least, that's what he could tell himself.
Oh dear me...I feel like I've written you a tome! I suppose I will leave it at that. Know that I am safe and I am well. I miss you more than I could ever express to you in mere words. Perhaps I will consider showing you just how much upon my return to Riften. I love you with all my being...
Yours,
Marieka
Brynjolf folded the parchment back up and held it to his heart as he released a sigh. Her return to him couldn't come fast enough. Especially since he knew she was headed to Whiterun to deliver a message of...instigation. He worried that the court of the city might use her to deliver a message of its own. It would be political suicide, but this was a time of war, and all bets were off. While it likely wouldn't have been able to reach her before she left Windhelm, he decided he could deliver a message upon her return. He was glad to have had the foresight to request that the courier stay in Riften for the day. It would be time to get started on a letter of his own as soon as he found a good place to do so.
He could head to the cistern, but he'd never have enough privacy. There'd be interruptions and annoyances and it was inevitable that both Vex and Delvin would figure out what he was doing and crack their jokes. No, anything around the Guild just wouldn't do. It certainly wasn't as if he had any business in the marketplace – he could almost certainly afford to just abandon his stall for the day.
Glancing to the north of the market, he observed the bridge that crossed behind the Bee and Barb. It was the bridge that ultimately would lead him to Honeyside. She did seem to want him to stop by...maybe it wouldn't hurt. Why bother putting it off? It would give Iona more time to spend with her husband-to-be anyhow. Not that Brynjolf cared much about that – it wasn't as though he was a hopeless romantic or anything of the sort. Romance...who needs it? Take what you can and get out is what I always say. Of course, a certain Breton had to waltz into my life and throw everything out of balance. Oh Marieka, if you could see me now. Pining over you...still... Gone astray like a puppy that has lost its master.
Yet even his internal monologue could not convince him that living with her was a bad idea. In fact, the more he considered it, the more he knew it was the next step. It was logical. It was natural. It didn't make sense for anything else to happen. He loved her. Why wouldn't he want to spend every waking moment with her? Besides...that bed was like paradise.
Before he even realized it, he found himself knocking on the door of Honeyside, waiting for Iona to open the door to him. When she did, her face lit up in the hopes that he was there to send her on her way for a few days. It took no time at all for the two to sort out when she would need to return before she had packed up her things and was on her way. When the door had closed behind her, Brynjolf took a look around; finally starting to allow it to sink in that Marieka wanted him to be here. Why he was so hard-headed sometimes, he couldn't say. Though as he looked around, he could see the sun's rays begin to peek in the windows. Soon the sun would be setting, and he considered that he'd better get to work on his reply to her if the courier he'd asked to wait were to bring it back to her in a reasonable amount of time.
It had been quite some time since he'd sat down to write a letter like this. Years in fact. Most of his correspondence amounted to business, but this would be something he actually enjoyed doing. A return to the life he had once wanted to live; penning words of poetry for others in far off places to take pleasure in. Perhaps this wouldn't be nearly as sweeping as he was setting it up to be, yet the emotions he felt were the same. It had been so long since he had written something for the pure delight of simply writing.
Pulling the chair out from under her writing desk, he reached for an inkwell and quill. As he sat down, he pulled a piece of parchment from a small pile she kept on the desk and pondered what he could say to her. He retrieved her letter from his pocket and unfolded it. He read through it once more, and carefully mulling over his response.
My lovely Marieka...
Hmm...a good start, he supposed.
It was a surprise to find your courier approaching me in my stall this day. Though not an unpleasant one, once I recognized what his intent was. I am currently holding him hostage in Iona's room at Honeyside until he gives up every last detail about what you were wearing when he last saw you in Windhelm. I will return him to you, along with this letter, when he has agreed to tell me.
He was convinced that with enough of his charm and humour injected into the words, she would rush back to Riften to see him again...regardless of what commitments were made and duties were left unfinished with the Stormcloaks.
Your words have stirred something within me. I long for your return to me, and while I wish you could come back the moment you finish reading this, I know this cannot be. You truly are a remarkable woman, Marieka. I am not shocked at all with how you've involved yourself in the affairs of those poor murdered women. I trust that you have already sufficiently assisted in helping to apprehend the perpetrator of the crimes. The city guard of Windhelm must owe you a great deal already.
The pangs of jealousy over her discussion of Ulfric welled up again. He re-read her words, pulling at his hair at the base of his neck. He may not have known the man, but he knew of his type. Using their station in life to get what they needed, tossing the pieces aside when they were withered and used up. He refused to let that happen to her. Though, he also couldn't help but consider that it could be eerily similar to the way his relationship with her had started – mentor and protégé, working together for a common goal; only to discover something deeper existed. He wasn't sure if this worried him even more.
When I first thought to respond to your missive, I had not considered bringing this up, yet I cannot seem to put these thoughts out of my mind. I'd rather believe that I am above these thoughts, but apparently you have enthralled me to the point that I am capable of such lowly behaviour. Your talk of Ulfric Stormcloak's interest in you has me reeling. I have not had feelings of this for a very long time. Dare I say, I am envious of the time that the man is spending with you. You had best not tease me over my admission of this to you. It is taking a lot of strength for me to confess this. Perhaps this is part of the spell you have cast over me. I'll not forgive you if you spend one moment laughing about this.
All kidding aside, he felt slightly guilty for allowing jealousy to cloud his thoughts. But he needed to get it out into the open. He was normally a stronger man than this – what is it that she did to him?
I also feel that I need to acknowledge my worry for you. Your decision to join the Stormcloaks is an honourable one. I do not wish to command you one way or another. I merely want you to know that it does not help my pacing through the streets of Riften as I am uneasy over your safety while you are so far away from me. Have no fear, my love…I would not demand that you return to my side to remain as a delicate flower, never to be picked or trampled on. But you should know that when I next see you, you will not be released from my grasp for many days. I trust you will not argue with me over the terms I provide you for your return.
I have lost sleep on several nights since you have been gone due to concern over your wellbeing. You cannot return soon enough, Marieka. I wish to hold you in my arms, just as much as you long to be held. The cistern has been excessively cold and lonely and I believe you will be pleased to know that I write this letter to you from the very writing desk in your own home. I have sent Iona to be with her betrothed for several days as I give your bed some company. I believe that if I were to ever be unfaithful to you, it would be with this bed and this bed alone. My apologies, love…I should not jest about that. But you know how I feel about this bed. Though, I would give up a lifetime of sleeping in the comfort of it for one night with you.
Writing the words on the parchment made them real. He ached for her; longed for her soft touch. Wished to see the tiny crinkles that formed at the corners of her mouth when she smirked at him. Thought of nothing but the sound of her voice and the way she moaned his name in the throes of passion and the dark of night.
By the gods, he missed her.
My one request for you is this: finish your tasks and come back to me. The days are long enough when I know you will be returning by nightfall, but they are unbearable without you. I implore you to be safe. I miss you, Breton.
All my love,
Brynjolf
Nothing he could have written would have sufficed to express his truest feelings to her. She would just have to wait until she returned to find out what he had really been thinking this day.
He folded the parchment carefully and sought out wax and a seal to securely close the letter. When the letter was ready to be delivered, he made his way to the Bee and Barb to seek out the courier he'd met with earlier that day. The letter would find her by the next day, or would be waiting for her upon her return to Windhelm from Whiterun. And he could do nothing but hope that she would return to Riften posthaste.
Several days had passed without word from Marieka. Brynjolf had spent the time pacing in the cistern…walking circles around Honeyside…trying to keep his mind busy and off of what could possibly be delaying a response from her.
But just as he was about to pace a hole in the ground of his stall, he was shocked by the appearance of the courier he'd sent to Windhelm with his letter. The man hurried to him.
"Brynjolf."
He nodded at the courier. "Do you have a reply for me?"
"I do," he replied, holding out the letter. "Will you require me to wait?"
Brynjolf dug into his pockets and tossed the man a good deal of coin. "If you do not see me by sundown, I will have nothing for you to send. I trust this will keep you in mead until then."
"Much appreciated," the courier said with a smile and he headed off to the Bee and Barb.
He unsealed the letter carefully, fingers trembling from nerves and excitement. He immediately noticed that this letter was quite a bit shorter than her previous correspondence.
My Nord thief,
I was ecstatic to find your reply waiting for me upon my return to Windhelm. Our courier was in a surprisingly good mood considering you held him hostage in the cellar. He was pleased to be the one to bring this back to you. I think he's fond of you perhaps? Or perhaps of the coin you provided him last time. Either way, we may have a personal go between from here on out.
I have had a rather large smile upon my face since reading your letter. I promise you I did not laugh. I did no such thing. In fact, I am flattered that my spending time with Ulfric has caused you to become jealous. I assure you, my love…our relationship is strictly business. Beneficial for both of us. The Imperials will regret crossing me so many years ago.
Unfortunately, I have no good news from Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf has decided to refuse Ulfric's request for allegiance. I will not be able to return to Riften yet – Ulfric has requested that I accompany his rebels to take Whiterun for the Stormcloaks. I have agreed. As Thane of the city, I feel a certain duty to try to protect the citizens there. I will not be able to do that if I do not join. I suspect this will put me in a more perilous position than I have been in for some time. But I do not wish you to worry excessively for me. If there is one thing that will drive me to survive this battle, it is the thought of returning to you.
And once this battle at Whiterun has reached its completion, return to you I will. I miss you, Brynjolf. I will be with you soon.
I love you…
Marieka
His heart nearly ceased beating as he read her letter. She was willingly marching to war for the Stormcloaks. His grip on the letter tightened, causing the parchment to crinkle and fold. Without thinking, his feet let him through the streets of Riften to the graveyard and down into the cistern. He rushed down into the Flagon, calling for Vex or Delvin or anyone that would listen.
Delvin was the first to hear him.
"Mate, what's got you in such a tizzy?" the Breton asked.
"Del…I. I need you to do me a favour," he responded.
"Yeah, Bryn," Delvin replied. "Whatever you need."
Brynjolf nodded his appreciation. "Keep an eye on Honeyside for me. Marieka's housecarl will not be returning for another day, and I'd appreciate it if some of our newer associates didn't take that as an invitation to rob it."
"Of course," he said. "But why? Where will you be?"
"I'm going after Marieka, Del. I'm going to Whiterun."
He turned around and headed back the way he came, leaving a bewildered Delvin in his wake.
