Just one more chapter after this!
Chapter Thirty Six
Wrong Place, Fate's Time
"Vipir!" He caught the younger man offguard when he stormed into the Cistern, and Vipir jumped, blinked a little dumbly, and then gazed at him with a rather odd expression on his face.
Eventually, Vipir piped up nervous a, "Yes boss?"
Brynjolf frowned, he wasn't entirely sure when he'd started being referred to as 'boss', but he didn't have time to consider it at the moment. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and put the poor man in front of him at ease, then fixed Vipir with a level, but serious, gaze. "I need you to find every member of the guild who isn't away on business, gather them up here, get them to arm themselves and then head topside to help out the guard."
"You want us to… help out the guard?" Vipir challenged ever so cautiously.
"Yes." The younger man frowned at him and cocked his head, so Brynjolf felt obliged to clarify himself. "The Imperials are minutes away from invading this city, and believe me when I say that this is not the kind of liberation that is going to take pity on the lives of us or any other civilians."
"Why?"
"Because they have the Thalmor with them," Brynjolf replied with a small cringe. "So, go find everyone you can, because if we've learnt anything from the guard her e, it's that they wouldn't be able to defend Riften themselves if their goddamn lives literally depended on it."
"Aye!" Vipir gave him a salute. "Yes, sir, boss! Right away!"
Brynjolf couldn't help but roll his eyes ever so slightly at the other man's attitude, before sobering and rushing towards his private quarters.
o0o
When they rounded the top of the hill they'd been climbing and Riften came into sight, the view before her made Phaeril pull on Shadowmere's rei gns and halt. It took Karliah a moment longer to realize what had made her stop, but when she did, she gasped softly.
"Oh, god's," the dark elf whispered to herself. The city was on fire, embroiled in battle between the guard's and the Imperial's and their Thalmor. Citizens and civilians of the city were running amok, presumably for their own lives.
"We have to get in there," Karliah continued meaningfully.
"Wait." Phaeril held her hand up as her eyes landed on a small group of Thalmor agents and Imperial soldiers halfway between them and the city. Whether they were reinforcements or a patrol, she couldn't be sure. But she reached for her bow nonetheless. "Help me take out that group first."
Karliah glanced at her, but didn't argue and reached for her own arrows. Between the two of them and their unmatched archery skill, it wasn't difficult to bring down the small group from afar. Once they were done, Phaeril turned to the dark elf.
"You go ahead; I'll be behind you soon."
Karliah nodded, and then pursed her lips as she gripped the reigns of her own horse tightly. "I'm going to go and try and find out what in Oblivion the guild are up to in all of this."
"Right." The dark elf didn't hesitate for more conversation and rode off far faster than either of them had travelled together up until that point. Then, Phaeril urged her horse towards the group of invaders they'd slaughtered, hopped off Shadowmere's back and started rifling through their remains.
o0o
"I think this is the only time I'm going to say this," Brynjolf drawled angrily as he rammed his dagger into the chest of an imperial soldier. The soldier gurgled a little and twitched when the redhead threw his body to the floor. "But," he continued as he kicked the imperial with his boot to make sure he was really dead, "I really wish Riften's guards weren't so completely incompetent."
"Well, most of the time having an incompetent guard isn't so bad," Karliah offered unhelpfully as she downed an imperial of her own. She'd found him some time ago in the city, which was now engulfed in chaos and civil war. He hadn't had time to drill her yet over where she'd disappeared to and why, and at the moment he was mostly just grateful he had someone competent at his back.
Brynjolf laughed a little. Most of the time it was useful for the guild, but not when the city was being besieged by the Imperials and Thalmor. You'd think that being Stormcloaks the guard might actually have taken on board some of Ulfric's tactics and skill, but apparently they hadn't at all. Brynjolf wondered how some of them even knew which end of the sword was the pointy bit.
An arrow whizzed past his shoulder so fast the only thing he could do was blink dumbly. Then he heard someone clank to the floor noisily and looked behind him to see an Imperial dead on the ground with an arrow sticking out of his head. Brynjolf snapped his eyes to the person who'd presumably saved him, only to find someone marching towards him in full shiny, imposing elven armour.
"Is this some sort of reverse logic tactics of yours, Thalmor?" he accused and pointed his sword at the elf as they advanced on him.
Then the elf wrenched off their (or, her) helmet, growled an affronted, "do not call me a Thalmor," grabbed him roughly by the neck of his armour and planted a kiss on his lips.
Brynjolf blinked at Phaeril dumbly for a good few seconds until he put the pieces together, his fingers idly drawing circles on her cheek where his hand had come up to cup her face. Then he raked his gaze over her body and his brow furrowed. "Do you really think that's a good set of armour to be wearing, all things considered?"
"Actually, it let me slit the throat of the Thalmor's general in this siege," she explained and then turned swiftly and let a throwing knife embed itself deep in the skull of an advancing Imperial. "But they've caught on now."
"Is that why they kept yelling kill the short one?" Karliah asked as she drew an arrow from her quiver. Phaeril grinned at her.
"Besides," the bosmer continued and shot Brynjolf a smirk. "If you hate it so much, maybe you can talk me out of it later?"
He grinned, the previous antagonism between them seemingly dissipated after the hort time of separation they'd both needed to cool off in. "I'd talk you out of it now if I could."
"Go ahead and try," Karliah continued with a chuckle. "Might cause them to die of shock, you know how prudish some Imperials can be."
o0o
"Should've left while you had the chance, elf." None of them even noticed the other voice joining them. "The Stormcloak'll drive every last one of you out of Skyrim!"
And then it was too late, the blade had been drawn. Phaeril was the first to turn around at the commotion and her gasp of horror wrenched Brynjolf's attention to her in a split second. But it wasn't enough for him to even think of saving her.
A stormcloak, wounded and angry had snuck up behind them while they were distracted and plunged his sword into Phaeril. She was in complete shock; the edge of the blade was sticking out of her back, her eyes wide and mouth agape. Then the stormcloak snarled and wrenched his weapon out of her and she collapsed onto the ground, blood pouring out of her and her body convulsing.
A horrified noise escaped Brynjolf's throat. He shoved the stormcloak out of the way without even considering enacting revenge and fell to his knees beside her.
"You fool!" Karliah screamed. Had he been paying attention he would have seen her grab her dagger and put it up against the stormcloak's throat with such a vicious look on her features that the other man paled quite quickly. "She was fighting against the Thalmor, she was fighting with you!"
Whether or not Karliah killed the stormcloak didn't matter because Brynjolf was too busy trying desperately to staunch the gaping wound in his lover's abdomen. Blood was coming out of Phaeril's mouth and her eyes were becoming unfocused. Still, he tried forcing her to a drink a healing potion but it didn't help.
"Drink it, for Talos' sake!" He shouted at her like it would make a difference. "Please-"
But it wouldn't have mattered anyway, she was shaking now and all he could do was watch in horror, none of it truly sinking in because he scarcely dared believe after everything that it could end like this. She reached a trembling hand up to him, her fist clenched and her eyes pleading with him where words failed her.
All he could do was grab her hand and cradle it in his own, his features contorted in disbelief and helplessness.
And then she fell limp with nothing left alive in her eyes. Only one word fell from his lips, because it was all he could think to say.
"No..."
o0o
Perhaps there were stages of grief and ways that he could cope. Surely he had not been the first person to lose a loved one before, but in that moment it felt like he was the only one that mattered and nothing, no words or consolations would ever make it better.
The amulet of Mara he'd bought was still sitting on the table in his private quarters, glaring and reminding him of what he'd lost and the mistakes he hadn't had the chance to fix. He'd never see her again, not only because she was dead but because her soul would now be in the void and his was bound to Nocturnal.
It tore him apart and he threw the amulet against the wall in his grief. It smashed into pieces and he buried his face in his hands as the tears started to fall. He didn't even care when someone forced their way into his room a few minutes later. In fact, he'd stopped caring the moment the fighting had stopped and he'd retreated to the Cistern in grief. Who won, who'd lost, it didn't matter in the grander scheme compared to what he'd lost.
"Brynjolf," it was Karliah but he'd interrupted her before she could even finish what she was saying.
"For the love of the God's," he snapped and looked up at her angrily. "You should know what it's like when you lost Gallus, so could you just leave-"
"No, Brynjolf," she cut him off firmly and it was testament how much he wasn't expecting it that he gaped at her. "There's something you need to know, before you wallow yourself into a pit you'll never get out of."
Karliah paused to take a breath, and stare at him almost apologetically before continuing. "Phaeril gave herself to Nocturnal before she died."
"What?" was the only appropriate answer he could think of.
"She tried to give this to you before she died," Karliah said and she unfurled her palm to show him a shiny black stone resting in it. It was etched with the symbol of Nocturnal, and he realized it had been in Phaeril's clenched fist in the moments before she died. "Didn't you wonder where I was these last couple of weeks? I followed her, and inducted her into the Nightingale's."
She paused then and looked at him empathetically. "I know it hurts, I've been there, but the best consolation, the only consolation I can give you is that you will see her again."
And it was with those words that he didn't quite know whether he needed to cry or grab the dark elf and hug her.