New chapter...FINALLY!

So, about a week before I fractured my toes (about a month and a half ago, I think?), I commissioned shutterbones on DeviantArt to paint me some Brynjolf and Marieka. She finished about a week ago, but as I've been wallowing in the depths of writer's block hell (yes, I am absolutely going to be that melodramatic about it), I just haven't been able to let you all know about it here (unless you watch me over on dA as well).

Either way, it's right here, so check it out fav . me / d4uke20 (as always, no spaces). You will need to have an account on dA to see it, so if you'd rather not sign up, feel free to get in touch with me and I'll see what other options we have for you.

So anyway, the image has inspired me a little. I threw on the soundtrack to Inception as well – specifically the song 'Time', which was on repeat while I wrote the majority of this. Finally, a suggestion from a friend to introduce a particular character also inspired parts of this chapter and he should technically know what I'm talking about once he reads it. Personally, I hope it means that he posts a particularly inspiring piece of work that I've partially read, but hey…I'm not gonna push. (I want to read chapter six damn it!) ;p Also, Brynjolf's eyes. Hard to see, but I think they're green. So that's how they're playing out in this chapter. Correct me if I'm wrong…but it's what I see in screenshots.

Another shout out to those who have faved, alerted, are new to reading or continue to do so. You also inspire me to keep going (though I apologize for the speed with which I'm doing so). Seriously folks...I continue to meet some amazing people because of this story. Don't ever hesitate to contact me if you feel the urge – the folks with whom I have epic conversations now I'm sure can attest to how excited I am to chat with everyone. You guys make it worth my while and continue to give me some great ideas for this story.

Right then. On with the show...

Brynjolf XI

See if I'm breathing
Because I'm not sure tonight if I'm alive
Words are demeaning…they can't describe

Submerge within the light
Illuminate my night
And let your atmosphere surround me
Submerge within the light…all night
'Til we become the sun…

"Submerge: 'Til We Become the Sun", Maxwell (Musze)

"It's not that I don't want to go to Winterhold, Marieka. But…isn't it a little close to the College?"

She smiled at him then; a smile of reassurance and uncertainty simultaneously. Though it served to make Brynjolf all but forget his concerns about the proximity to the College nonetheless.

"It is close to the College, love," she said. "But…it isn't likely at all that Onmund would head into the city for anything. You'll be fine. Besides…he doesn't even know who you are."

He looked down at her, taking a step closer and placing a hand at her cheek. "We'll go," he said. "And you're right. I've got nothing to worry about. In any case, I've sworn to protect you in your journeys and it means I'm to go to places that make even my knees tremble."

"Ah, my thief in shining armour." She closed her eyes and allowed her cheek to press into his fingers gently. "We haven't travelled together often on our own, have we Bryn? This could prove to be an interesting journey, don't you think?"

As she opened her eyes, she let a cheeky grin cover her face. He pointed his finger and tapped her nose lightly.

"And just what do you have going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"It's a long journey from here to Winterhold," she said. "Especially on horseback. Just don't be surprised if I suggest we stop more than once to…rest. Yes…that's it…to rest."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that what we're calling it these days?"

"Why Brynjolf," she exclaimed innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"

She giggled into his chest as he pulled her close. When she turned her face from him, placing her ear close to him and listening to his heartbeat, he smiled down at her. It felt odd to be in Riverwood, so far away from Riften and for so long, but the days passed quickly – which was surprising, especially since so many of them were spent away from Marieka.

Her second visit to the Throat of the World prompted this new journey to the College of Winterhold. She had spoken little about it since returning, though did seem incredibly more on edge about something. And it wasn't something Brynjolf could put his finger on, but he also didn't wish to pry. As always, she would let him know when the time was right.

But for now, her nerves were focused on something else – getting back on a horse once more.

He smiled at her apprehension; once again noting how she was not afraid to involve herself in the slaying of dragons, yet continued to feel the rising of nerves when faced with the prospect of equine transportation. The thought caused him to smile more. She had truly come into her own in recent months. She was becoming a stronger mage; a stronger person. She'd finally allowed herself to embrace her own destiny, and she insisted it had so much to do with him. He wasn't so sure he had anything to do with it, but who was he to argue?

As they prepared for the journey, he couldn't help but notice the subtle way she continued to glance at him. She would look away from him when his eyes met hers in this silly manner that caused him to smile internally. They'd shared so much of their lives with each other, but she still felt nervous around him. Still felt shy. He thought it to be an endearing quality about her – that she would continue to act so timid around him at times. It was usually a sign that indicated she was actually uneasy about something entirely different. Of course he could only think it meant whatever it was she needed to do beyond the help the College would provide.

Ralof was there to send them on their way. He had found the pair a reliable horse named Vidar; strong enough and fast enough for the journey they were about to take. He clasped forearms with Brynjolf and hugged Marieka tight as he said his goodbyes. They would return eventually, but Ulfric was right – the dragons needed to be dealt with before the Stormcloaks could defend against the Empire.

As Brynjolf settled on to their mount, he could hear Marieka's heavy breathing – even from the distance he was to the ground. The animal stood proudly, its coat a shiny deep brown and its mane even darker. He had flashes of white hair at his hindquarters, his forehead and at the tip of his nose. She walked to the front of the horse, placing a gentle hand upon his crown.

"Please don't throw me off of you, Vidar," she whispered to him. The horse grunted in response. As her face scrunched up, Brynjolf extended his hand towards her.

"You'll be fine, love," he said. "I know it's been awhile, but you'll be just fine."

She nodded and walked towards him, clasping his hand and allowing Ralof to assist her up as well. He felt her scoot close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding tight. Admittedly, he loved the feel of her like that, though knew it meant her discomfort. But he also knew she would ease up eventually; she would regain her confidence and feel better about being on horseback once again. But for the moment, he was happy to be her comfort.

"I think we're closer to Windhelm," she said, peering around him at the signpost in the road while holding on tight. To the east was Windhelm; to the northwest, Dawnstar. Winterhold was directly north, but unfortunately cut off by a rather large range of mountains and a terrible blizzard they had only just edged into.

He looked down at her as she appeared at his side and nodded. "I think so too, but..."

"It'll be dark soon enough. We're still at least a good half day's ride from Winterhold at the rate we're travelling. Especially in this weather," she pointed out. "We'd best make our decision soon."

"If we go to Windhelm, there's always Hjerim."

She groaned. "I'd rather not actually go into Windhelm if we can help it."

"You won't hear any argument from me," he agreed. When they last departed the city, it wasn't on the best terms with Ulfric Stormcloak. Perhaps Marieka had resolved some uncertainty there, but the man would likely never let go of what Brynjolf had done to him so many years prior.

"Why don't we head for Dawnstar then?" she suggested. "There may not be stables, but at the very least, we can get some food for Vidar. Can you make it a few more hours, boy?" She patted the horse gently and he whinnied quietly without changing his gait.

"Not a bad idea," Brynjolf replied. "There's bound to be a merchant or two that stops down that way as well. We might even be able to get ourselves a hot meal. You mentioned you'd been to the inn there, right?"

"Yes, I have."

"Dawnstar, it is then," he replied, and pulled the reins in the appropriate direction. Vidar began to pick up speed once more.

The hours passed slowly, but eventually Marieka began to comment on familiar scenery from her last trip to the northern city. They could see the very top of the Nightcaller Temple in the distance. He felt her arms snake tighter around his waist as her head pressed against his shoulder. As the city came into view, they made their approach up the final path towards it. He slowed the horse to a trot and loosened his grip on the reins. He allowed one of his hands to rest upon where hers were clasped, and could almost feel the smile growing upon her face.

It was moments like this…moments where they were the only two on Nirn that mattered. They were the moments that made life worth living.

When they reached the first houses of Dawnstar and Vidar stopped, there was no one in sight. Brynjolf heard Marieka's displeasure, knowing how the dismount was just as nerve-racking for her as the rest of the journey on a horse.

"One day, Mari," he joked, "you're going to get on and off of a horse without complaining. Until that day however, you're lucky that I'll be around to help."

He adjusted himself, turning partially and grabbing her up by the waist. She squeaked as his hands slid under her arms and pulled her from her position. Before he lowered her to the ground though, he pulled her towards the front of him, holding her carefully in his arms. She smiled up at him, stifling a giggle.

"Stop making fun of me, Brynjolf," she demanded, but the expression on her face said she'd never enforce it.

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. He felt her fingers brush across the stubble on his chin and when he looked at her again, her eyes danced. He gave her a quick wink before lowering her to the ground beside the horse, and then dismounted as well. She grabbed the reins and began to walk Vidar up the main path into the city. As she did so, a young woman appeared in the road ahead.

"A fine evening to you, travellers," the Nord woman called.

"And you," Brynjolf replied. "We were hoping to feed our mount. Perhaps let him rest for the night. And maybe find some dinner and bed of our own."

"I can help you with those requests," he said. "The name's Abelone. I work at the Windpeak Inn, and I'm sure Thoring won't mind if you keep your horse tied there for the night. As for food, there's bound to be some hay stored up over at one of the mines. And perhaps this boy might appreciate a good piece of carrot or two for a treat?" She approached Vidar and patted his head gently. "I'll be happy to take him and tie him up for you."

Marieka smiled at him. "That would be appreciated Abelone." She introduced herself and Brynjolf before asking again about a hot meal and accommodations for the night.

"Wait a moment," she said. "I remember you. You're the one who helped Erandur. You helped him stop the nightmares."

The Breton nodded slowly. "I did. I trust there have been no problems since then."

"Problems," Abelone scoffed. "Well, only your typical problems. But at least we've all been able to sleep soundly since then. In any case, we've got food and comfortable beds at the inn. And I can guarantee you Thoring will let you stay – free of charge considering what you did for this city." She scratched her chin in thought. "Also, if you didn't see it already, one of those caravans pulled up a few hours ago. They'll likely be around for a couple of days. Just up the path there." She pointed back in the direction they had come from.

"Thanks for your help, Abelone," she said, tossing her some septims to take care of Vidar.

"Think nothing of it," she replied. "Your horse is in good hands."

She took the reins and began to walk to horse back towards where the inn stood. Brynjolf nodded to her and led Marieka down the path towards the direction the Nord signalled the caravan had settled in for the next few days.

As they walked towards the caravan, they could see several tents had been erected. The smell of something wonderful wafted towards them – but neither could place it. The sound of a lute hit their ears as they got closer.

"How did we miss this on the way into the city?" Brynjolf asked incredulously.

She looked up at him and smiled, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

Darkness was settling across the surrounding lands and the light of large campfires could be seen ahead. When they had reached the circled tents, they could see plenty of figures milling about. It seemed almost everyone in the city was there. Several Khajiit were present – evidently members of the caravan – interacting with all kinds of others; humans, elves, and Argonians alike. Brynjolf felt her tug on his arm, insistent on joining in with the others. As they crossed the threshold, they noticed smiling faces everywhere when they looked around. Everyone seemed content…pleased to be a part of the synergy that existed. They walked around for a few moments, trying to take everything in. Their senses were overwhelmed.

She continued to lead him around until she came across a Khajiit sitting cross legged in front of one of the tents. She looked up at Marieka and smiled as she pulled a large wool blanket tightly around her.

"Come to trade, my friend?"

"Actually, I'm more interested in whatever it is that smells so good," she replied, kneeling down next to the Khajiit.

She placed her hands atop Marieka's and smiled widely. "Your nose is overwhelmed by the savoury smells of the Elsweyr fondue. It is a traditional dish from our homeland." She leaned over, peering around the Breton in front of her. "Zaynabi! Bring this one some fondue."

Marieka turned to see another Khajiit woman responding to the request, and then tugged at the leg of Brynjolf's trousers. "Sit, love! We are about to enjoy an exotic food from Elsweyr." She turned quickly back to the trader; an expression of nervousness settling upon her face. "You don't mind if we join you to eat, do you?"

"Nonsense," she replied. "You are more than welcome. We welcome those who welcome us. I am Ahkari. I am pleased that you have decided to visit our caravan this eve."

"This is Brynjolf and I am Marieka, and the pleasure is ours!" she exclaimed as he pulled out a blanket of his own, spreading it out on the ground and sitting next to her. "We've never really had an opportunity to experience one of these travelling caravans. In fact, I'm surprised I haven't seen more in my own travels."

"And I rarely even leave Riften's walls," Brynjolf offered.

"You are from Riften?" Ahkari asked, to which he nodded. "We travel there regularly. Perhaps you will not be strangers the next time we are there, no?"

"I'm certain we will look for you once we're back in the city," she replied.

Zaynabi appeared in front of them with several bowls of the fondue in her hands, eyeing the two suspiciously. "You've not had this before? You will be in for a surprise."

Marieka looked up at her curiously. "What...what exactly do you mean?"

The Khajiit didn't elaborate; instead handing a bowl to each of them.

"Do not mind, Zaynabi," Ahkari advised. "Just enjoy."

She shrugged and took a mouthful of the cheesy substance that filled the bowl in front of her. Brynjolf followed suit, and concluded it tasted as good as it smelled. After eating more of the dish however, he looked to Marieka to see her reaction, and she looked strangely confused.

"What's wrong, Marieka?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"I...I don't know what I'm feeling," she said, looking at him and then at the Khajiit to her right. "Ahkari, what...what's in this?"

"What do you feel, my friend?" she asked.

"Not normal," she said. "I can feel something...it's...a sensation I can't really put into words. And it's...moving."

Ahkari chuckled quietly. "This one is talented in the arcane, yes?"

She nodded. "I'm a mage. Why? Is that why I'm feeling this?"

The Khajiit smiled. "There is something about the fondue that enhances a mage's abilities. The moon sugar, perhaps?"

"Moon sugar?" Marieka exclaimed. "You gave me...moon sugar?"

Brynjolf steadied her as she looked fit to collapse from her knees. "You'll be okay, Mari. I'm surprised you've never come across it before."

"Oh?" she prompted. "And you have?"

He gave her a look that told her she should know better. "Of course I have. You don't work in this business for as long as I have without testing out some of what passes through our hands. As a matter of fact..." His voice trailed off as he looked over at Ahkari. "Perhaps you have something a little more potent we can test out tonight."

She nodded knowingly. "Soon, but not yet. We shall close the caravan soon. And then you may ask your question again."

He smiled and looked again at Marieka. "Don't tense up on me. You'll be fine. I'll be right here to make sure you're safe. It'll be fun."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You know, Bryn, if you're trying to take advantage of me...there are much easier ways."

"It's got nothing to do with that," he replied. "You've got plenty on your mind, and I think perhaps you could use some time away from all that."

"Well," she considered. "I am having difficulty sleeping these days. What, with all the tasks I have ahead of me. Maybe I do need a wee break from the norm. But only for tonight. This is the only time I allow you to influence me in this way."

He ruffled her hair gently and leaned in close. "Thief's honour," he whispered into her ear.

"Ow."

Brynjolf's eyes flew open at Marieka's voice next to him. As his eyes focused, he realized he was looking at the ceiling, and was still lying down. In a bed...or on the floor? No...in a bed. The inn – they had managed to secure a room from Thoring the night prior. The sun's rays filtered in through the crack between the thick drapery on the window. He turned his head to the right and saw her sitting up next to him. She had her head in the palms of her hands, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Morning, love." He rolled on to his side and watched as she waved one of her hands at him, shushing him quickly.

"Don't talk so loudly," she mumbled. "My head is just—."

He chuckled quietly. "Turns out skooma makes you thirsty, Mari. You drank an awful lot of mead last night."

"Ah."

"Don't remember?"

She turned her head slightly towards him. He could barely see the slits of her eyes as she peered over at him in discomfort. "I remember the fondue. I remember meeting...some more Khajiit. I remember trading some things. I vaguely remember something about you dancing a jig near the fire – oh, and you'll have to remind me of that later, because it hurts too much to laugh right now. But I don't remember much else."

Brynjolf smiled at her recollection, and eased himself up to sit. "You actually remember quite a bit."

"Yes, well...I believe that will be my one and only foray into the illicit world of skooma," she groaned.

"Come here," he said softly. She looked over again and saw him patting his lap. He reached over and guided her head to rest on it and she curled up beside him. As he brushed her hair behind her ears, he smiled to himself. "You remind me of—."

At his pause, she tilted her head to look up at him. "Who, Bryn?"

"I...it's nothing."

She brought her hand gently towards his knee and rested it there. "You don't have to hold things in. You know you can tell me."

"Ah, you don't want to hear about that," he protested. "Besides…you aren't feeling well."

"Brynjolf."

"Yes?"

"Tell me."

He sighed. "You remind me of…Elisabet."

Marieka looked up at him once more. "The woman you were once in love with?"

He nodded, leaning back against the head of the bed. "It was a very long time ago, Marieka. Do you truly wish to know?"

She shifted her position, moving to lie upon her back. "Brynjolf, this is obviously a memory that is difficult for you, but it is also something that has had a profound impact on who you are. Of course I wish to know," she said. "But I also will not push you if you prefer it otherwise."

"Maybe it is time," he admitted. He felt her hand cover his on the bed and she smiled up at him reassuringly, giving him the confidence to continue. "It was so many years ago. I had just returned to Riften from Windhelm. Had made some friends in the Guild. And I met her in the market. She was young and beautiful – a Nord girl. Tall and slender and her hair was a gold the colour of honey. Worked in one of the stalls. We immediately had a connection; a strange sort of bond that I couldn't explain. I learned she had lived there for several years. She was a couple of years older than I was at the time."

He looked down at her; saw she had not taken her eyes off of him.

"We…uh…we spent every waking hour together. I knew I had fallen in love with her. Elisabet was everything I thought I ever wanted in a woman. I'd even…I'd even considered leaving my life as a thief behind for her. I wanted to make her happy, and I visited the Temple. A mere two months after meeting the woman, I had the grandiose idea to ask her to marry me."

He felt her thumb begin to stroke the top of his hand softly and shivered.

"I spent days trying to work up the courage. And eventually, I did. I took her for a walk outside of the city. We went down towards the lake, and when the sun set and the twin moons rose, and the auroras stretched across the skies, I told her. I professed my love for her and told her I wanted to marry her."

He paused. For too long.

"And…what did she say?"

He looked across the room – away from her. "Nothing. She…didn't say anything. She just…left me standing there."

She sat up then, pulling herself to sit as close as she could to him. He felt her hand on his cheek and his eyes met hers again. He placed his hand atop hers and smiled weakly at her.

"Oh Bryn," she said sadly. "That's terrible. I'm…so sorry it happened."

"I quickly discovered why she left me standing there," he continued. "The next day, I encountered her in the market. She barely looked at me, let alone spoke to me. I asked her to forget what happened the night before. That I just wanted to talk to her. She shook her head. And I soon knew why. While I stood there, waiting for her to speak, a tall man – an older Nord – approached her. When he stood next to her, I watched as he slipped his arm around her and kissed her. I couldn't break my eyes away from hers. I couldn't deal with the betrayal."

Marieka continued to look at him with concern in her eyes. He looked down at his lap, fidgeting and pulling the cover up towards him with his free hand.

"I turned around and left her with the man. It would seem I have a penchant for women who are…traditionally unavailable. I didn't find out until later he was actually her husband. She penned me a letter on her way out of the city. As it turns out, her husband had been in Cyrodiil – I don't know why. She didn't tell, and I certainly wasn't about to reply to the letter to find out anything else about the situation. But he unexpectedly returned after three years. And they left Riften. She never said where they were going; only that they were leaving. I suppose it was a blessing really. Better than to be reminded of her every day."

He took a deep breath.

"I was…sorry then," he acknowledged. "But I'm not now. I was young. Evidently foolish."

"You were in love, Bryn," she said. "It happens to the best of us. The naivety, I mean."

He shrugged. "It matters not. The past is long gone. And to be honest, I'm much more interested in what's right in front of me, rather than what I've left behind."

His eyes fell upon the flush of colour that had quickly appeared on her neck and cheeks at his words.

"Speaking of which—," he began. He pulled her close into his arms. "You told me last night to remind you of something."

She looked at him with a smile. "I did? Well, thank the gods for that. I certainly don't know what it was I wanted to tell you. Or…do. Or…well, perhaps you should just tell me what I said?"

He chuckled at her. "My, my. Mead certainly doesn't agree with you, love. Or, perhaps it does. I suppose it's all about where the benefits lie. And considering you forgot to dress before you fell asleep last night, I'm certainly happy to be graced with the vision of you this morning."

"Oh Bryn," she giggled. "Just tell me."

"Oh, alright," he conceded. "You told me you had something to give me. But you were so tired and couldn't remember where you had put it."

"And I'm supposed to remember now?"

He shrugged. "Don't get angry with me. You were the one who couldn't remember last night!"

She sat for a few moments in thought. He could see the gears turning in her head, and eventually her eyes lit up and she jumped out of his grasp. She knelt by the side of the bed and retrieved a small pouch – one that was typically reserved for the storage of alchemical ingredients. She slipped her hand inside of it and a smile spread across her face.

"Ah ha!" she exclaimed. "Even when I do not have all my faculties, I am coherent enough to remember where I would always keep such things."

He looked at her, crinkling his nose up. "What are you talking about?"

"It's one of the last things I actually remember about last night," she said, pulling out an even smaller pouch from the one she held.

"What is this, lass?" he asked as she placed the small pouch in his outstretched hand.

She settled back down on to the bed next to him, excitedly watching as he began to untie the pouch's strings.

"I saw it when we visited the caravan," she said with a smile.

He tipped the pouch and a small ring fell into his hand. It was silver and encrusted with sparkling emeralds. "Marieka. What is this? It's not my name day."

She giggled. "Do you honestly think I need an excuse like a name day to give you a gift? I saw it, and the emeralds…they reminded me so much of your eyes. I just had to give this to you."

"It's…fantastic. And I…no one's ever just…given me a gift like this," he said quietly, testing it on a couple of fingers before settling on one. He pulled her close and hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Marieka. I love it." He kissed her temple. "And I love you."

She pulled away from him and flipped on to her knees in front of him. "And I you. Perhaps you'll let me show you how much?"

He smirked at her a little. "I thought you weren't feeling well."

"You underestimate my healing capabilities, love." She lifted her leg to straddle his lap and pulled herself close to him. "Besides, you have some bad memories I need to help you forget."

He smiled at her and closed his eyes as her hands wrapped around behind his back. The present was so much better than the past anyhow…

Having retrieved Vidar and prepared themselves for the rest of the journey to Winterhold, Marieka and Brynjolf mounted the horse and began a slow and steady pace along the city's main road. He nodded to Abelone as they passed the inn and thanked her once more for her help.

As they passed the caravan on their way out of the city, one of the Khajiit from the evening prior made his way towards them.

"Good day to you, my friends. Heading towards your college now, Marieka?"

"Uh, yes. We are."

Brynjolf felt her shift nervously on the horse behind him.

"I thank you once more for agreeing to help me. It means so much to me that someone who was a stranger yesterday was so willing to help," the Khajiit said with a smile.

"Oh, of course," she replied. "Always…willing to help. Well…we're off."

He nodded. "Good luck to you both. We will see you again soon, I hope."

Brynjolf waved and guided the horse onward. When some distance had been put between them and the city, she spoke once more.

"Bryn?" The voice from behind him was uncertain.

"Yes Mari?"

"Who was that?"

He chuckled to himself. "Why, that was Kharjo…a noble Khajiit warrior who you agreed to help last night."

"Oh." A pause. "And just what did I agree to do?"

"Some bandits stole his amulet. There should be a folded parchment in one of your pockets with their last known location."

He felt her hand leave his waist as she dug around for the parchment; the sound of a crinkled missive being unfolded followed.

"Huh. So there is."

He heard the parchment fold up again and then felt her arm around his waist again.

"So, Marieka?"

"Yes, Bryn?"

"No more skooma?"

"No, Bryn. No more skooma."