Chapter Thirty-Six

A LaChance Meeting

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Over the next few days, Irina was kept just as busy as Mercer said she would be. Her mornings were spent training in lock picking. Luckily she was competent enough to train on her own, and didn't need Vex's critical eye always looking over her shoulder. In the afternoon, she'd work the market under Vipir's watchful gaze; picking pockets still made her hands tremble and sent butterflies alight in her stomach, much to her frustration. Would she ever get good enough so it would be like second nature, like nocking an arrow to a bowstring was to her? Somehow she doubted it.

In the evenings she worked on her fighting techniques, but she had yet to build up enough courage to ask Brynjolf to spar with her. He seemed to be avoiding her since they got back, and she didn't blame him. Most of the thieves avoided her now. Only Sapphire, Delvin and Rune were willing to have a conversation with her. Vex and Vekel wouldn't give her the time of day, and the rest of them always found a quick excuse to leave her presence. As much as it hurt, she knew it was part of her punishment. She wouldn't be surprised if Mercer had told them all to give her the cold shoulder.

Each day either Delvin or Vex had jobs lined up for her, but she wasn't allowed to do any of them on her own. Mercer didn't trust her to not run off again. If she tried to while on a job, her companion was ordered to put an arrow in her back. Thus, Rune was not permitted to go on any jobs with her; Mercer didn't trust him to follow through with such an order should it come to that.

Winter came in earnest, and all of Riften was blanketed in a thick layer of fluffy whiteness. The season also began to turn festive, as several businesses around town began to put out wreaths of snowberries and pine branches. The Bee and Barb replaced its usual white candles with red ones, and the market was filled with more than the usual shoppers as everyone prepared for the approaching holiday. Irina wondered if the thieves even celebrated New Life Day.

As the eve approached, she began to get the distinct impression that they did not. No decorations were put up in the Ragged Flagon, no one talked about any sort of special dinner or gift giving ceremony. That disappointed Irina. The winter holidays when she was a child had always been magical to her. It had been many long years since she'd had anyone to celebrate them with, and she'd missed it more than she thought.

On New Life Eve, Irina and Thrynn returned from a two day job in Darkwater Crossing to a very quiet cistern. The only thieves present were Cynric and Delvin. Even Mercer was gone, the lantern on his desk unlit.

"Where is everyone?" Irina asked as she set her pack down on the table in the kitchen.

"Either on jobs or in the Flagon," Thrynn remarked. "Which is where I'll be." Without another word, he headed toward the door that led to the tavern.

With a sigh, Irina sat down at the table and rested her chin in her hand. An overwhelmingly melancholy mood fell over her as she listened to the sound of the water falling from the culverts.

Finally she could stand it no longer. She got up from her chair and headed to the Ragged Flagon. Even though most of her friends were ignoring her at the moment, she couldn't stand the thought of spending another holiday alone. The Flagon, however, was nearly as empty as the cistern. Only Thrynn, Tonilia, Vekel and Brynjolf loitered there, each busy with their own thoughts.

Irina sat down on a stool at the bar and made brief eye contact with the Man.

"What do you want?" Vekel asked her, the corners of his mouth pulled into a frown.

"Aren't you selling spiced wine tonight?" she asked. "Or do you not hold with tradition?"

Without a word, he slammed a mug down on the counter, popped the cork from a bottle and poured her some of the warming beverage. "Ten septims," he muttered.

"Isn't it supposed to be half price today?"

"Not for you."

"Damn it, Vekel, can't you give me a break? You act like it was you I left at Snow Veil."

He didn't reply, and instead turned away to some other work he had to do.

Irina clenched her jaw in hurt and anger. She didn't believe she deserved this kind of treatment from everyone. Mercer she understood and agreed with, but did everyone have to gang up on her like this?

She pulled her mug off the counter and dropped a few coins in its place before turning to face the room. Feeling completely unwelcome, she didn't know what she should do. Brynjolf sat alone at the table on the deck, and since he was really the only one there who was speaking to her at the moment, she decided she would try to join him, though she braced herself for even more hurt.

He glanced at her when she sat down, but didn't otherwise greet her.

Irina cleared her throat nervously. This was the first time she'd been in a position to talk to Brynjolf since her sentencing, and the awkwardness in the air between them was palpable. "So where is everyone?" she finally asked.

"It's New Life Day tomorrow. Festivals in every city. Plenty of pockets to pick, and much coin passing hands. We're making sure a lot of it ends up in our coffers."

"So you lot don't take part in the festivities then, I take it?" she asked.

He shook his head as he took a sip from his ale bottle.

"That's too bad," she murmured, looking into her mug.

"Why's that?"

"It's always been my favorite holiday. At least when I was growing up it was. My mother always made a new set of mittens for me and my brother, and my father would give us little figurines he'd carved from wood. We'd have this huge feast, enough to feed three families, and we'd sing, and my father would play the lute. He was a good lute player. And my mother's voice… she had such a sweet voice…" she trailed off as her eyes rimmed with tears.

Brynjolf said nothing as he stared at his ale bottle, an awkward silence descending.

After a few moments, Irina sniffed and wiped her eyes. She drew a small package from her largest belt pouch, and slid it across the table toward the red-head. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a strip of red cloth in a bow.

Brynjolf arched an eyebrow in question. "What's this?"

"Happy New Life Day, Bryn," she replied with a faint smile.

"You're giving me a gift, lass?"

"Isn't it obvious? Go on and open it, silly."

He picked up the package and tugged on the bow, pulling it loose. "You didn't need to do this," he told her. "I wasn't expecting anything."

"I know, but I wanted to."

He pulled back the paper, revealing a small amulet intricately carved from a jade stone and strung on a gold chain.

"It's an amulet of luck," she informed. "It's supposed to bring you good fortune. The Khajiit I bought it from said they're pretty popular in Cyrodiil." She shrugged. "I don't know about that, but I liked how it looks." She regarded him closely, hoping that he liked it too.

He held it up to the candlelight to examine it more closely. "You bought this?" he asked.

Irina's chin trembled slightly and she nodded. "Yes."

"It must have cost a pretty coin."

"It doesn't matter," she said with a shrug. "I just thought of you when I saw it. You can sell it if you want; I imagine you could get a lot more for it than the Khajiit did."

He shook his head. "No, lass, I won't sell it." He opened the clasp and reached behind his neck to fasten it, fumbling to get it closed again. After a moment he smiled and glanced up at her. "Do you mind?"

Irina returned the smile as she got up and moved behind Brynjolf, gathering his hair and moving it aside so she could see what she was doing. Once the clasp was secured, she smoothed his hair back, fighting a sudden urge to wrap her arms around him. She had felt so incredibly lonely the last few days it was becoming almost unbearable. She wanted things to be normal again.

"Do you like it?" she asked hesitantly.

Brynjolf twisted in his seat to look up at her. "I do, and maybe the enchantment will do me some good." He stood up to face her. "I'm sorry I don't have anything for you; it's generally not our custom to give gifts in the guild."

"Well, if you wanted to give me something, I know what it could be, and you wouldn't even have to buy it—or steal it."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"Your time?" She blushed and focused her gaze on the amulet that rested on his chest. "I know it's part of my punishment and all, but this isolation is really starting to get to me."

Brynjolf closed his eyes for a moment before stepping forward and pulling her into his arms. "Sorry, lass," he murmured. "Tonight, my time is yours."

Irina squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of ears, pressing her face into his leather-covered chest. She had expected him to disappoint her, to tell her that he was too busy or that she didn't deserve so much attention. His simple offering made her heart flutter and her cheeks flush.

"What would you like to do?" he asked her after a moment.

"I suppose not much; I'm not allowed to be idle, remember?"

He pulled away and used a finger to turn her face up toward his. "You are permitted to eat, though. Why don't you and I go get some dinner where there's more cheery company?"

Irina smiled. "Really? You'd go to dinner with me?"

"Are you trying to talk me out of it, lass?"

"No! Of course I'm not, I'm just…surprised, that's all."

He held onto her chin as he leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to hers. "You shouldn't be so surprised. It was I who wanted you, remember?" He smiled. "Let's go."

Irina was weak in the knees as she followed him from the tavern, silencing all the warning bells going off in her head. Perhaps this holiday wouldn't be such a disappointment after all.

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The Bee and Barb was crowded that night. Talen-Jei had brought in a few more tables, yet still Irina and Brynjolf were forced to sit in chairs by the fireplace while they waited for one to come available.

Brynjolf treated them to one of the Argonian's special drinks, which Irina thought to be very strong, yet with a good flavor. She wasn't used to drinking much at all, and after only a few sips, she could feel it going to her head.

Nearby, a bard strummed a lively tune on a lute, and a few people danced and sang along. It lent a very festive atmosphere to the place, and Irina got caught up in it for a while, smiling as she swayed in her seat to the music.

After a time, she glanced at Brynjolf and caught the thief's emerald eyes watching her, one corner of his mouth curved in a slight smile.

"What?" she asked.

His smiled broadened. "You're beautiful tonight, lass."

Irina blushed, unable to suppress a grin. "Just tonight?"

"No, not just tonight," he assured. He lifted his glass in a toast to her, and took a sip.

"I hope this isn't a ploy, Bryn," she said warily, the smile still on her lips, but a look of apprehension in her eyes.

"A ploy? To what end?"

"Come on, don't play ignorant. You've made it perfectly clear that you haven't given up on me."

He sat back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. "You're right, and why should I? I never got the impression that you wanted me to give up on you. Do you?"

She cleared her throat and took a sip of her Velvet LaChance, diverting her gaze toward the bard. "Tell me about Karliah," she said by way of changing the subject. She glanced back at Brynjolf in time to see his grin disappear, replaced instantly with a frown.

"I much preferred our previous topic," he informed her.

"Come on, I know next to nothing about her, and yet she has the entire guild in her grip. I might have a greater sympathy if I knew more."

"What exactly do you want to know?"

"Who was she? I know she was a member of the guild once upon a time, but that's about it. I've got the impression, though, that she wasn't just your average recruit."

Brynjolf shook his head. "No, she wasn't. She was one of the ranking members. She was Gallus's favorite and Mercer's partner. The three of them were like their own little team—a guild within the Guild, if you will. They stuck together like butter on bread."

Irina frowned. "Is it known why she killed Gallus?"

"Not for sure, though there have been rumors of a love triangle between the three of them, and that jealousy could have been involved."

"A love triangle?" Irina said in surprise. "You mean…Mercer and Karliah?"

Brynjolf nodded.

"I can't imagine anyone loving that man—or him loving anyone for that matter."

"Mercer wasn't always how he is today. He was a lot more…human then." He took a sip of his drink and turned his gaze toward the dancing flames in the fireplace.

Irina watched him for a moment, noticing the set of his jaw and the stiffness in his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Bryn…I didn't mean to spoil our time. I was just curious."

He gave her a halfhearted smile. "That's understandable, lass. I suppose things that are buried never truly go away; they only fester. I'll be glad when all of this is finally over with."

"So will I. I want things to be back to normal again."

"Normal," Brynjolf mused. "I almost don't know what that means."

"Excuse me," Talen-Jei's silky voice interrupted. "A table has become available."

Irina smiled in thanks at the Argonian, and she and Brynjolf got up. She gripped the back of the chair for a moment as her world spun.

"You all right there, lass?"

"Yeah, just…a little too much to drink, I think." She laughed.

"Too much? You haven't even finished your first."

"I don't hold my liquor very well. Let's just get to the table; food can only help."

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They ate until they were stuffed, and conversation flowed freely around the touchy subjects like water around rocks. Irina finished her Velvet LaChance, and then ordered a second one. Brynjolf remembered her earlier comment about her liquor intolerance, so he was surprised, but didn't comment. She seemed especially cheerful, and he knew it was partially because of the alcohol. He wanted to pretend, however, that it was solely because she was in his company, just like being in the company of Ralof and his family had made her act a similar way. Her blue eyes sparkled and her pink lips wore a continuous smile as she rested her chin in her hand and gazed up at him.

"Bryn, how'd you get that scar?" she suddenly asked, pointing with her other hand to the mark on his left cheek.

"By being foolish," he replied.

"Oh come on, I want details."

Brynjolf drew a deep sigh, but felt no irritation at her nosiness. In fact, these days he welcomed it, to an extent, and found it rather endearing. "It was while on my first job I did alone," he told her. "I was supposed to clean out a house in Whiterun, but got caught. The owner of the house was a big, warrior of a man, and didn't take kindly to a skinny lad robbing him for all he was worth."

Irina giggled. "Skinny? You seem pretty big and warrior-like to me."

He smirked. "When I was seventeen I was as skinny as a rail, lass. Probably still would be today if not for that encounter, in fact. I nearly died that day, and it inspired me to learn how to fight, to protect myself."

"I guess that sort of happened to me too, in Goldenglow," she mused, taking another sip if her drink, eyes half closed in an alcohol induced haze. "My muscles won't ever get as big as yours, though," she added with a lazy wave of her hand.

Brynjolf chuckled and shook his head in amusement. "I don't suppose they will." He reached across the table and gently took her glass away. "Lass, I think you've had enough to drink; perhaps we should go home."

"Oh…do we have to?" she mumbled, slumping in her seat. "We're having so much fun."

"Aye, but I'd like to leave while you're still able to walk out on your own."

Irina snorted and covered her hand with her mouth. "What, you wouldn't like to carry me home? You'd pass up that opportunity?"

"As enticing as that sounds, I think I'll pass," he replied with a smirk as he stood up. "Where's your cloak, lass?"

Irina glanced around their table and then shrugged. "I don't know," she said with a silly grin.

"You probably left it over by the fireplace; wait here, I'll get it." He made sure she was going to stay in her seat before he wove his way through the room to the fireplace by the bar where they had waited for a table. Sure enough, there was the cloak, draped over the back of a chair. He grabbed it, and was just turning to head back to Irina when a voice caught his attention. A very familiar, feminine voice.

"Hello, Bryn."

He snapped his head toward the bar and the source of the voice.

"Delphine?" he said, mouth dropping open in surprise.

The blonde woman smiled and swiveled around on her stool to face him. "It's been a long time," she remarked. "How have you been?"

"What are you doing here? I never thought I'd see you again. I thought you were through with me."

She gave him a smirk. "I am, believe me. That's not why I'm here. I need to talk to you. I'm looking for information, and I was told that you might be able to help me. I'm willing to pay for it, of course."

He arched one eyebrow at her. "Well, you know how to sing my tune, lass. I'm sort of in the middle of something, though, could I meet you back here in half an hour?"

"I'll be here all night," the woman agreed.

Brynjolf returned to Irina, who was leaning her head against the wall, eyes closed. "Lass, I've got your cloak; let's get going." He helped her on with the garment, and steadied her as she stood up, swaying slightly.

"Oh…" she groaned. "I'm going to regret this tomorrow, aren't I?"

He smiled as he slipped his arm around her shoulders to support her as they left the inn. "Aye, you probably will. Sometimes there is such a thing as too much fun."

Her only response was another groan.

As they neared the secret entrance behind the temple, Brynjolf could make out the form of Rune arriving just before them. The other man spotted them, and Irina chose that moment to rest her head against Brynjolf's shoulder and hum contentedly.

"We should go for a walk around the city," she murmured. "Just like this."

Brynjolf glanced warily at Rune, not wanting the younger thief to get the wrong impression. "You can barely stand up straight, lass. I don't think walking will suit you any better. Come on, we're almost back."

Rune changed course and approached them. "Irina?" he said with a furrowed brow, sending an accusing glare at Brynjolf. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's just a little drunk is all." Brynjolf eased Irina away from him and toward Rune. "Will you take her, lad? Get her to bed. I have a meeting I need to attend."

Rune gladly took his mentor's place, slipping his arm around Irina's shoulders and holding her close to him.

"Rune, you're back." Irina grinned up at him. "Happy…New Life Day. You missed a good party. Right, Bryn?" she giggled and rested her head against Rune's chest. "Oh…Bryn bought me an…uh…velvet thingy…what's it called?"

The glare in Rune's eyes intensified, and it made Brynjolf feel a little sad, and a little guilty. He knew he was the one that Rune had always trusted most in life, and he knew that he was breaking that trust when it came to Irina. The lass belonged to Rune, and yet it was so blasted hard to stay way from her and to keep his feelings to himself. Someone was going to end up being hurt, that was a fact.

"She had two Velvet LaChances," he informed. "She'll be fine after a good night's rest."

"Let's go, Irina," Rune murmured, turning her away from the red-head.

Brynjolf watched them go for a moment before turning his thoughts back to his newest concern. He hadn't seen Delphine in years, and now suddenly she was back. What could she possibly want? And why did she think he would be able to help her?

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed that chapter. I'm barely getting these things written in time to post them each weekend, but I am getting them written! I'm actually pretty proud of myself right now. :) If you haven't noticed it by now, check out the new picture of Irina on the cover. It's better than the first one, which was too dark.