Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios. And the wonderful people of Beyond Skyrim (if you don't know their mod, I highly recommend checking it out. Seriously, I nearly wept when I was able to cross the border.) No profit made, I just own the OC and the plot.
A/N: Normally if a character catches my attention I search for fanfictions. Normally I find some to obsess about that character even more. Not this time. It really bothered me, in fact it bothered me that much that I decided to write my own – with no intention of publishing. Like ever. But after turning 30 last week I experienced a lot of "Screw it, let's see what happens" moments and here we are..
Chapter One
The Ragged Flagon was strangely empty for this time of the evening. Earlier a very drunk Thrynn had challenged Niruin at shooting empty mead bottles off of the Crown of Barenziah which led to nearly all of the Flagons inhabitants joyfully following the two opponents while Brynjolfs face grew paler than usual. He had muttered something about shorten everyones cut should the crown be harmed.
Muriel looked down at her now empty mug.
"Can you give me another?" She smiled to Vekel and fished two coins out of her pocket.
"Sure." He filled her mug once more before pocketing the coins.
Muriel rested her elbows on the bar top and rubbed her eyes. She sure was getting a headache, she could already feel it creeping up behind her eyes. Headaches were like a constant companion these days.
For the last months she hadn't slept well. It was the same dream over and over again that disturbed her night's rest. If she was lucky she got about three hours without waking up and feeling the need to walk a few rounds around Riften's planks. The guards already knew of her habit; at first they had wondered and tried to strike up conversation, but now they just nodded at her, sometimes joined her on her aimless wanderings.
She let her eyes wander through the underground tavern. Tonilia was sitting at one of the tables, scribbling something on a role of paper, stacks of coins in front of her.
Muriel caught the fence's eyes and threw her a little smile before returning her eyes to her drink. The Redguard and she got along well, but Muriel wanted to be alone with her thoughts this evening. That, too, was something occurring a lot more these days.
She sighed and took another sip.
The door to the Cistern opened and a chortling Delvin appeared in the hallway.
"I swear Brynjolf' gonna have all of their heads. There 're arrows everywhere, those damn fools", he called to noone in particular and disappeared to the little room behind the Flagon. Probably heading in for the night.
Vekel chuckeled and winked at Muriel. "You want another? You look quite thirsty tonight."
Muriel looked down at her again nearly empty mug - when had that happened? - and considered it. She knew the alcohol would get her sleepy but it was a treacherous peace and wouldn't help her in the long run.
"Nah, I'm good", she said and decided to call it a night.
She heaved her body of the barstool and headed towards the exit. Unlike the other thieves she didn't live in the Ratways. She had for a while though, but with the Civil War won by the Empire she had gladly accepted the opportunity Maven Black-Briar offered and bought Honeyside. It was much more pleasant to wake up to the view of Lake Honrich than the dripping ceiling of the Cistern.
"Night", she waved over her shoulder and heard Vekel and Tonilia mutter a goodbye. The couple was probably glad to finally have a few minutes for themselves.
Avoiding the bucket and broom leaning the wall – seriously who had put that there? More than once Muriel had stumbled over that damn thing – she walked through the fake cabinet and pushed the door to the Cistern open.
On the other side of the large circular room she saw the rest of the thieves in a crowd around the Guildmaster's desk. She spotted Brynjolf's red hair on the edge of the basin and a smile tugged on the corner of her mouth - the second-in-command looked defeated and desperate.
Muriel threw him a sympathetic look before making her way to the ladder that led out of Riften's underground. She nearly reached the exit as fast steps stopped her.
"Oi, lass!" Brynjolf came jogging her way. "Do you have a moment?"
Muriel turned around. "Sure. Why don't you walk me home?" She smiled at the Nord. Brynjolf was one of the few people she considered her friend. She knew that there were rumours in the Guild about the two of them being more than friends and colleagues but she didn't care.
The older thief had flirted with her in the beginning but his sometimes teasing comments no longer made her uncomfortable; she had learned that it was just his way of talking. Especially with woman even though she had seen him make some grown men on the market blush, too.
Now his eyes were weary and darted anxiously back to the group of thieves across the room.
Niruin had started to lecture Vex about the right way to hold a bow and she – uncharacteristically – giggled as his hands guided hers. The blonde had to be seriously wasted to let her self-control slide like this and Muriel decided that she'd come in late tomorrow to avoid Vex's hungover mood.
"Sorry, lass, I really don't want to leave those drunkard alone with the crown. Before you came through I just stopped them from wearing it.."
Muriel chuckeled at the thought of it but she was glad Brynjolf had an eye on the treasures. After all, it had taken her quite some time and effort to collect those things. Being the official Guildmaster she was aware that it was actually her duty – not Brynjolf's – to keep the others in line and not let them ruin the achievements of the Guild but her headache was gnawing on her. Brynjolf had shown understanding for her mental condition ever since she had returned from High Hrothgar a few month ago and she had accepted his help without resistance.
"Okay then.. what did you want to talk about?"
"I've been thinking about expanding the Guild's influence."
Muriel raised an eyebrow. "And you have to talk about that now?"
"Ah well, I wanted to talk to you for a while but it never seemed like the right time."
"And now's the right time?", she said frowning. In the back she heard an arrow hit the Bust of the Gray Fox on the desk.
Brynjolf cringed. "Hm.. not really. But you could think about it and we could talk tomorrow?"
"We just established our influence in all of the major cities of Skyrim, Bryn..", Muriel sighed. That also had been a lot of work.
"I know that." He smiled down at her. "All thanks to you."
"So why then? Maybe we should be happy with what we have achieved here. You know.. not get too greedy?"
His smile grew wider. "Well what can I say, lass? I'm a thief by heart. Greedy comes with the job description."
"Well okay..", she backed down. "Theoretically speaking.. tell me your thoughts. Where do you want the Guild to drive fear in the heart of every wealthy law-abiding citizen?"
"I was thinking about Bruma."
"Bruma?" She hesitated.
From what she knew Bruma was a city and county north of the Imperial City, not unlike many cities up here in Skyrim. Many years ago she had even seen the stone city walls from afar. Back when she had tried – and succeeded - to cross the border to Skyrim...
Muriel looked thoughtfully at Brynjolf. "Why Bruma?"
He ran his hand over his face before answering. "Well first of all – it's close. We wouldn't need to build all the contacts on the other side of the border. We can get in, bring the goods here and sell them in Skyrim. There's an old cave called Serpent's Trail. A smuggler route leading straight through the Jerall Mountains."
That didn't sound very reasonable. She frowned but before she could vocalize her concerns he quickly continued.
"Word is the count of Bruma, Desilus Carvain, in continuing the family tradition and has a huge collection of Akaviri artifacts. Can you imagine what's that stuff worth, lass?"
Brynjolf widely smiled at her with shining eyes. She couldn't keep up her serious expression looking at his childish joy of the possibility of getting his hands on one – or more – of those artifacts, even if she admittedly knew nothing about Akaviri artifacts. She couldn't resist a little smile; it was intriguing.
"I need to think about that.. and for now I have to crawl in my bed." Muriel surpressed a yawn.
"You do that, lass", he said gently. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, tomorrow. Good night, Bryn."
"Good night, lass."
When Muriel turned once more to the ladder she could hear something shatter from across the room. Brynjolf hurried back to the others mumbling curses under his breath.
You can deal with that tomorrow, she thought to herself and finally climbing up the ladder to the hidden entrance in the graveyard.
After hours of the dampness of the undergrounds the young woman greedily drank in the chill air and let her eyes wander across the night sky. The stars shone beautiful tonight and so she just stood between the graves for a while. Thankfully even in Morning Star the temperatures in Riften never dropped as low as in the rest of Skyrim. In High Rock the weather had always been milder but after all, the western country wasn't surrounded by a mountain chain and received warmer winds from the sea and Hammerfell's deserts.
An approaching light announced a guard on patrol and Muriel quickly left through the passage to the Temple of Mara to avoid him. Even though she was a known resident of Riften, it would be unwise to draw too much attention to the hidden entrance. Besides, standing on a graveyard in the middle of the night would lead to a lot of questions. Stepping silently over the wooden planks she crossed the market place, turned right and soon reached Honeyside. She had grown fond of the cozy house over the past months and it became one of her favourite places. In the years of her travels she had become quite wealthy and with the right relationships she had collected several places she called home now.
With a slightly sad smile she opened the door in front of her. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had bought Breezehome back in Whiterun. The small house had been her first residence in Skyrim and the first step towards a new life. It had felt so exciting to call it home. Now excitement came rarer and rarer.
She left her boots and cape right in the kitchen, threw the gloves on the dining table and headed to the bedroom. The leather armor was carelessly left on the floor as she crawled under the covers in her linen undergarment.
Her drink at the Ragged Flagon had made her tired enough and so there was hope for a few hours of rest.
The next morning greeted Muriel with pelting rain. She stared at the ceiling for a while before she felt able to get up. Her sleep had been disturbed several times and so she had tossed and turned for the better part of the night.
She got to the kitchen to stir the fire and make herself some tea that hopefully would wake up her senses. As the water in the kettle started simmering, a knock at the front door broke the peace.
Muriel frowned. She really wasn't a morning person and it was even worse when someone decided to pay her an unannounced visit. Sorely tempted to ignore the unwanted visitor she threw a few herbs into the kettle as another knock was heard. She sighed.
"Muriel? Are you there, lass?", Brynjolf's voice came through the door. That man was way to cheerful for this time of the day.
With another sigh Muriel opened the door and leaned her head against the frame. The redheaded Nord beamed at her. He seemed completely oblivious of the rain dripping over his hood.
"There you are! Good morning!" His smile slowly dropped. "You look awful, lass."
Muriel snorted and cleared the doorway to let him in.
She ran her hand through her hair and could feel the knots between her fingers. That was something she needed to take care of before leaving her house.
"Be with you in a minute", she murmered and left the kitchen to get dressed.
As she closed the last buckle of her armor – she got so used to it that other clothes always made her feel awkward – she heard Brynjolf pouring the tea into mugs.
Back in the living area of the house she thankfully accepted the offered mug and sank into one of the chairs with a sigh. He looked at her in thought as he seated himself on the other side of the table. Muriel took a sip from the hot brew and met his gaze.
"Rough night?", the Nord guessed.
"Nothing I'm not used to..", she answered with a grimace. "Is the Crown still in one piece?"
Brynjolf's face darkened for a moment. "They didn't break anything but it wasn't due to their good marksmanship. Nocturnal seemed to have mercy with us last night."
Muriel didn't answer but she couldn't imagine the Daedric Prince to care about some drunk thieves fooling around.
"When I left this morning I told Thrynn that I don't want to find a single arrow when I return. I certainly hope he forgets one – I have a really demeaning job for him in that case.."
She gave him a crooked smile but didn't really listen. Absent-minded she took another sip of her tea.
He remained silent for a moment. "Are you alright?"
"What do you mean?", the Breton asked with a yawn.
"You know.. I worry about you. You seem..off." His hands played with his mug. "You don't sleep very well, do you? You act restless. Ever since you came back from..." She shot him a glance and he stopped.
"Don't get me wrong", he continued. "You still do as many jobs as the others, more even. The treasures in our vault are mainly your achievement. But your mind is always so.. absent."
"Do you want to say I'm making mistakes? Am I doing a bad job?", she sharply asked.
"No, lass", he said gently. "I'm just wondering.. when did it become merely work?"
That took her off guard. "I..I'm not sure what you mean."
Brynjolf's eyes gleamed with understanding. "It's alright. It happens to most of us."
Unsure of what to reply, she kept silent.
"There are thieves who steal for survival and then there are thieves like you and I who do it for the thrill. And the profit, of course." He threw her a crooked smile.
Muriel sighed deeply and ran her hand over her face. "It has nothing to do with the Guild, you know. It's just.. with Alduin I felt like I had a purpose... and now.. everything just feels so.. mundane."
"Well, after saving the world and all of that..", he said with a soft chuckle.
She grimaced. "Im sorry, Bryn. I must sound so ungrateful.."
"Don't worry about that, lass", he shrugged off her apology. "None of us had to do the things you had to do."
They exchanged a warm smile. Muriel knew that he wasn't disappointed by her and she was surprised she had doubted it for a short moment. Brynjolf was and always had been someone who supported her right from the beginning.
"But that brings me to the actual reason behind my visit", Brynjolf continued and the suspicious smile was back in his eyes. "You might remember the thing I suggested yesterday?"
"Yes and I haven't thought about it yet. I was sleeping."
"I thought you were awake most of the night?", he asked innocently.
Muriel threw one of her gloves at him and pouted. The other thief laughed as the glove missed him, hit the shelf behind him and sent some bottles of mead to the floor. They rolled over the floor but neither of them bothered.
"Well I at least had some more thoughts about it", he said and winked at her. "You are right, the Guild is doing far better than we did in years. We don't really need to go to Cyrodiil."
He leaned forward. "And maybe building a working network over there is just a childish fantasy of mine, but I at least would like to know if we can pull off something like stealing those artifacts from right under some spoiled aristocrat's nose."
She looked at him warily. "You mean... like just for sport?"
"If you like, see it as a challenge."
"You challenge me?", Muriel asked with raised eyebrows. Even though she knew it was a crazy idea, she started considering it. Damn that man.
Could they do it?
Brynjolf really knew how to attract her attention by appealing to her pride and curiosity.
The satisified smile on his face betrayed his innocent voice. "Seems like I do, lass."
They gazed at each other for a few moments and Brynjolf could literally see the wheels turning in her head. He knew he had won.
"Tell you what... I will send a letter to Enthir to see if he can find some books about Akaviri artifacts in the College's library. For my part, I know nothing about Akavir. Let me try to find out if it's worth the trouble", she said with a sober voice.
The Nord chuckled. "Of course. See, that's why you're the Guildmaster."
After that Brynjolf excused himself to head to his market stand. Even though the Guild was doing better these days, he held onto his stand as some kind of sentimental reminder of past and less prosperous times.
Muriel didn't mind. Her second-in-command took over most of the day to day business of the Guild and barely did jobs himself anymore. She knew he missed that sometimes.
Finishing her tea, her thoughts circled around Bruma and the idea of actually going there. The thought of stealing something out of a well guarded castle tempted her. In Skyrim she was well known by most of the Jarls and so she was able to walk through their homes unbothered. Many treasures had wandered into her pockets unseen by the guards and sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if it was because of her skill as a thief or if the Jarls simply looked the other way because of her status. Either way it wasn't a challenge anymore.
The Breton sighed and decided to write that letter to Winterhold as soon as possible. Normally she wouldn't communicate with a fence via letter – mainly not to endanger them – but under no circumstances she'd travel to Winterhold this time of the year. The northern coast was inhospitable even in the warmer month and the thought of fighting her way through the cold winter storms repelled her.
She went to the bedroom to quickly fix her messy hair and braided it to keep it out of her eyes. To fade the signs of her sleepless night, she threw some of the cold water from the basin in her face.
In the basement she found a roll of paper and some ink and after she was satisified with the letter, she headed out to find a courier.
Fortunately the rain had ceased but Muriel put on her hood nevertheless. She strolled to the Bee and Barb in hope to find a courier to deliver her letter. Normally she avoided the inn. Her last memory of an evening there was slightly embarrassing mix of too much mead, dancing with a broom and her clinging to that mercenary Marcurio. To this day she wasn't sure if she ended up taking him to her bed as she had woken up alone but undressed, with a strange feeling and lack of memory.
Besides, the Argonian owners weren't to fond of her after she had collected Keerava's dept and so she prefered to spent her evenings in the Ragged Flagon.
She entered the inn from the north-eastern entrance and was glad to see the only person present beside Keerava was a courier she had encountered before sitting at one of the tables.
"Where are you heading?", she asked after greeting the man.
"Windhelm, as soon as I'm finished with breakfast."
"I need this to be delivered to the College of Winterhold. Can you do that?"
He frowned. "I could...", he answered slowly. "But the roads are very difficult this time of the year. It will cost you."
Muriel had expected as much. After they agreed on the price, she handed the sealed paper roll over and left the inn.
Now all she could do was to wait for Enthir to answer.