Title: Cistern Shadows
Rating: M - For Mature themes and sexual situations.
Pairing: Female Dragonborn OC x Brynjolf
Chapter: One-shot
Genre: Romance, Drama, Adventure, Fantasy
Summary: "The young half-mer eyed him for a moment, then took his hand, sitting herself in his lap. The way she licked her lips as she touched his face, the smell of the honey brew on her breath made the hair on the back of his neck rise. "Maybe," she murmured, closing the space between their faces, kissing him finally."
The Cistern was silent for once, as everyone was celebrating in the Flagon tonight. Once in awhile a rogue shout or loud laugh wandered its way towards the Nord hunched over the desk of his former friend and mentor. There was still much paperwork to go through, to see what else that damn traitor had done. What other fires had yet to be put out.
Mercer Frey's betrayal was still fresh in his mind, the red headed Nord mused solemnly, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. Eying the paperwork before him wearily, he still had a hard time believing it.
Brynjolf wouldn't lie, as much as he had cared for the other man, there was always something about him that just… made it clear you couldn't trust him. Not completely. Like there was always another scheme, or anything you said, he could and would use it against you. Still, the former guild leader had been a friend nonetheless, someone he had looked to in times of need and help. Seems his Guild mates had forgotten that, once learning the betrayal was all too real.
He didn't blame them, though. A lot of them had loved, admired and even relied on Mercer. Some more than others. His betrayal extended to everyone, both in and a part of the guild. Hell, Maven Black-Briar demanded to see Mercer's body before she believed it. That had been a retrieval mission he never wanted to repeat, ever.
Rubbing his face, the Nord sighed heavily. He thought becoming Guild leader was a good idea, despite his protests, but Karliah and their friend, a small half-Elf who's mouth ran faster than an angry skeever. Brynjolf still thought she should be in charge over him, but… being as he had been in the Guild just as long, if not longer than some of the others, he did fit the bill better.
"Something wrong, Nightingale?"
Her voice struck him from his thoughts, the red headed male looking up, clearly in shock. The Mer in question was sitting right in front of him, on his desk, smiling like she hadn't just scared the Shadows out of him. How had he not heard her coming?
"Fiona," he rumbled, giving the small female a sour look. "Shouldn't you be celebrating with the others?"
Her smile widened as she leaned back, crossing and uncrossing her legs, Brynjolf now noticing she was in rather… revealing attire. It looked like something Healga would wear, but oddly, he found it appealing on the small Mer.
"I should be," she spoke casually, glancing over her shoulder towards the passage that led to the Flagon, "but everyone is either drunk, or making out in corners." Here, she laughed softly, pushing some honey locks over her shoulder, her blue eyes meeting his green. "I may or may not have convinced Delvin to finally make a move on Vex, I don't think he could have afforded another night of watching her bathe and beating one out before he busted in there and did something… embarrassing."
For the life of him, Brynjolf had only been listening to some of what she had been saying, the rest of him had been drinking her in. Her attire seemed to be nothing more than some barmaid's getup, only with her assets, it didn't seem to fit properly, so the more she moved, the more he saw. Humming and mhming where he felt it was appropriate, the Nord felt his restraint being tested. Just like the night they had met…
It had been raining that night, quite heavily Brynjolf recalled, and the Barb was packed with locals and travelers alike. He had seen Sapphire enter some time earlier, looking smug. Probably because she had been harassing the poor stable boy, Shadr, again. He had told her to just let the debt go, since they used the horses from the Riften stable as get away horses and burning their ally was not a smart move.
Clearly she hadn't listened to him.
Still, Brynjolf made himself comfortable at the bar, a mug in hand, filled with Black-Briar mead and Keerava's hoarse voice rising above the rabble once in awhile to warn someone not to do something or another. Talen-Jei close by, his hand often going below his apron, the Nord knowing he was reaching for the knife hidden there, to defend his Argonian woman if need be.
Chuckling into his mug, the red headed Nord almost missed the door to the Bee and Barb opening and closing again. Or the flicker of a cloak calming after coming in from such intense winds.
Frowning, Brynjolf set down his mug, turning, scanning the crowd. Everyone was still here and accounted for and he didn't see anyone new. His jaw clenched. Was the Brotherhood hunting a Mark? That was brave of them, coming into someplace so public.
Heart pounding, Brynjolf scanned the crowd again, knowing someone new was here. He could feel it in his bones.
One more pass, lad, he told himself mentally, looking around, if we see no one, it's all good.
On his last pass, Brynjolf's green met Sapphire's blues, confused met annoyed. Found them. Getting up from his seat, the Nord made his way across the bar. He was expecting some sack of goat shit to be annoying Sapphire, instead he found something-rather, someone unexpected.
Whoever this person was, the first thing Brynjolf noticed was they were short. Very short, in fact. Shorter than Sapphire, though not by a whole lot. Slim shoulders, not to mention the cloak was not only dragging, but hanging off whoever this poor bastard was.
"...No need to waste any more time threatening a stable hand. Tell Shadr he doesn't owe me anything." Sapphire's annoyed tone made Brynjolf pause. Whoever this person was, they were talking her out of harassing that young man. He'd give them credit, not many people did that with a Guild member and walked away unharmed.
This stranger, whoever they might be, definitely piqued his curiosity. Watching Sapphire stalk off, fuming and muttering, he chuckled softly, stepping up behind this hooded figure. "Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, eh lass?"
The figure whipped around, her hand flying to their sword, only stopping as ocean blue met forest green. It was then Brynjolf realized this was no ordinary person. They were part Mer.
"I'm sorry, what?" Her reply was short, clearly not expecting to be taken by surprise. Fair enough.
Chuckling, Brynjolf crossed his arms, lifting a brow down at Mer before him. "I'm saying you've got the coin, but you didn't earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell." He watched the confusion cross her face, watching him warily. She was suspicious, as she should be.
Lowering her hood, the Nord noticed her honey blonde hair tumble out, still wet from the rain. Faintly, her pointed ears stuck out from under her hair. As if she sensed him staring, she quickly covered them. Ashamed? Afraid? Wait until she knew a few fellow Mer were in the Guild, then she had nothing to fear.
"How could you possibly know that?" The small Mer snapped, stepping back, her hand now resting on her blade. Had he struck a nerve?
Upon closer inspection of this person, the redhead noticed a few things; Not only was her cloak too big, but so were the clothes underneath. Simple armor, from what he could tell, but it was all different sizes and tied in place with more leather straps. Her face, though dirty and exhausted looking, her eyes burned with a fire. This woman just wanted to be left alone. She was not to be messed with, yet here he was.
That fire invoked feelings Brynjolf couldn't place his finger on. Something about this small female made him want to scoop her up, peel her clothes off and do some… very unprofessional things to her. Was that his drink talking? By the Eight, it was. Shit.
Clearing his throat, Brynjolf continued, turning to the side, discreetly dealing with the problem his thoughts had produced. "It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they're wearing. It's a dead giveaway." Offhandedly, he gestured to her, then instantly regretted it with the cold, knife piercing look he received in return.
"My personal wealth is none of your business," she replied shortly, moving to step around him, "now if you excus-"
It was clear she was uncomfortable, irritable, probably tired and hungry all the same. Brynjolf recalled a time when he was in her shoes, Gallus finding him and taking him in. He felt a push on his shoulder, something telling him to keep going.
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth is my business. Maybe you'd like a taste?" That had come out a lot more smug than he intended, but he caught her attention. A glint in those eyes that made him freeze as their eyes met once more. It sent a delightful chill down his spine. Damn it!
She seemed to be contemplating his offer, her eyes darting back and forth with the internal debate. After a moment, she sighed, a defeated, tired sound. "What do you have in mind, exactly?" She asked, crossing her arms, looking up at him expectantly.
Somewhere in Brynjolf's mind whooped with delight, another Thief added to the guild and maybe a guilty pleasure he could admire from afar.
Smiling down at the young Mer, Brynjolf chuckled, gesturing for her to follow him to the bar. "I've got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands," here the Nord paused, watching her face before he continued, "and in my line of work, extra hands are well-paid."
Hesitantly, she followed him, eyeing him the whole way, her hand still resting on her blade. Hopping up on one of the stools with ease, she sighed, rubbing her face. "I can't believe I'm considering this," she said aloud, not to him, but he was listening either way. "Fine, you've got me. I'm in a tight spot and I need the coin." Looking up at him, she smiled a little, reaching over, picking up his mug and taking a long swig. "What do you have in mind?"
Brynjolf tried to ignore how she casually rested her hand on his thigh, looking up at him with that smug, knowing look. By the Eight...
After talking for most of the evening, Brynjolf started to move to leave, so she could go get some deserved rest and he could fine tune some of the plans. Especially since she was almost falling asleep into her mug. It had been a long talk, the Mer having many questions and concerns, which he found himself patiently answering, to the best of his abilities. He never had much patience with new recruits before, but there was something about her that just… drew him in.
As she slipped down from her stool, Brynjolf reached out, touching her arm. "Lass," he said softly, though there was no need. Most had left for home by this hour, Keevara was laying down with Talen-Jei upstairs, it was just them in the common room. "In case you decide against tomorrow, might I know your name?"
She looked up at him, an exhausted smile crossed her face as she cocked her head. "My name?"
"Aye, your name."
Laughing some, she shook her head, glancing skywards before looking at him, smirking as she undid the button on her cloak, pulling it off. "Fiona. Now yours."
"Brynjolf."
His name left his mouth faster than he could have ever expected. Normally he didn't tell anyone his real name. Ever. There were those in the Market and Riften that knew his name, but that was about it.
Her smirk widened, like the cat who ate the canary, lifting a brow at him. "Well, Brynjolf, may the Nine guide you home, safe to your warm bed. I'm going to lay in mine. Goodnight." With that, she turned and walked away, quick, fast, and incredibly quiet, he noted.
This girl, whoever she was, sure was something else.
Even though their luck seemed to not be on their side as of late, Brynjolf was pleasantly surprised that the job had gone off without a hitch. Though the Nord still didn't understand why Brand-Shei had to serve time, a job was a job and it was done.
Smiling as she came out of hiding once the guards had left with Brand, Brynjolf spread his arms, laughing. "Looks like I chose the right person for the job." He noted her smirk, the cock of her head as she looked between his spread arms. Not the hugging type, eh? Ah well.
Obviously she thought he was arrogant or something, he could still see the weariness in her eyes. That was fine. "And here you go... your payment, just as I promised." Reaching into his pocket, he produced the small pouch with the gold they had agreed to the night before.
Letting out a relieved sigh, the redheaded Nord spoke softly to her. "The way things have been going around here, it's a relief that our plan went off without a hitch."
Attention piqued, he watched Fiona look up from counting her coin, her blue eyes curious. "What's been going on exactly?" There was a thief in this one yet, he could see it.
Making a face, Brynjolf waved his hand with a huff. "Bah. My organization's been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that's just how it goes sometimes." More like all the time, according to Delvin. The Nord wasn't sure if he wanted to believe it, so he focused on what he could explain. Which happened to be what they were doing. "But never mind that, you did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there's more where that came from... if you think you can handle it."
"I can handle it."
Handle it she could, the Nord thought to himself, leaning back in his seat, admiring the sight before him. Reminding himself to breathe, a small smile edged it's way onto his face.
Not only had she knocked out Honningbrew after dealing with the troublesome honey producer just outside of Riften. Not only had she traveled damn near all over Skyrim on Mercer's whim, Fiona had proved herself to be not just a great thief, but someone who could be trusted. Something not well known anymore amongst the Guild anymore. If you couldn't trust each other, then who could you trust?
No honor amongst thieves. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth, Brynjolf noted, sighing some through his nose.
But he would hand it to the small elf, she went the extra mile time and time again, determination burning in her eyes as she came back into the Cistern after Mercer's betrayal, telling everyone what had happened to the Guild, herself and Karliah...
The news came about as a shock to everyone, especially once given the chance to let Karliah tell what really happened. Deep down, as much as he wanted to deny it, Brynjolf found himself not surprised. Just sad and feeling as though everything had been a lie. Clearly it had been, especially finding their treasure room and important plans stolen.
Pulling Fiona aside as Vex voiced her vendetta on killing Mercer, more like yelling as she stalked out of the room, he was somewhat pleased to hear Delvin talking her down. Wasn't something you heard everyday.
Leading his way to the training room, Brynjolf sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Look, before I help you track Mercer down I need to know what you learned from Karliah." He breathed in, taking a moment to let some of this information sink in. "I mean everything."
Fiona shifted from foot to foot, picking at her gear, looking a little shy. "Mercer killed Gallus, not Karliah." Her voice was soft and small, as if she was afraid of saying this, her eyes darting around for a moment. It was then he noticed the healing scar on her neck.
No doubt a gift from dear old Mercer, a voice growled in his head, the surge of protectiveness surprising the Nord.
Pushing those thoughts away, Brynjolf sighed through his nose. "Aye. I feared that was the case." Looking down at the book in his hands, the worn leather familiar. It felt warm in his hands. "From that last entry in Gallus' diary, it looks like he was getting close to exposing Mercer to the Guild." Biting his lip, the redhead looked up, his gaze thoughtful. "Anything else?"
He watched Fiona tilt her head this way and that, as if trying to get it out. She must be struggling with it all, too. Brynjolf felt bad for grilling her, but he needed to know.
"Gallus... Karliah and Mercer were... Nightingales?" She spoke slowly, as if the words didn't make much sense to her. But the proclamation baffled the Nord thief. It took him a moment to recover from the shock.
"What? Nightingales?" A strangled laugh escaped him, Brynjolf running a hand through his hair, noting the serious look on the small elf's face. "But, I always assumed they were just a tale... a way to keep the young footpads in line." He murmured, more to himself than to her. Though, slowly, it was beginning to make sense. The way Gallus and Karliah would disappear on random missions they wouldn't tell anyone about, Mercer, too, from time to time.
Still he felt like there was more to this story. "Was there anything else she told you?"
Swallowing nervously, Brynjolf watched Fiona smile a little, picking at her gloves. Nervous habit, it seemed. "Karliah was behind Goldenglow and Honningbrew." She said slowly, her voice lowering into a whisper. Was she afraid he was going to be mad? After all her hard work figuring this all out?
Instead, though, the news took the red haired Nord by surprise some. "Trying to make Mercer look bad in front of Maven, eh? Clever lass." He chuckled, amused. If anyone was out to screw Frey like that, Karliah would only know how. "Was there anything else? Don't be afraid to tell me, lass."
The relief in her eyes made him feel bad. Her trust had been so severely betrayed, yet here she was, telling him everything. Not knowing if he was in leagues with Mercer or not. "No, that's it." Fiona murmured softly, lowering her hood, rubbing her face. She looked exhausted. As much as he would have liked to give her time to rest, sadly, time was of the essence.
Breathing a sigh, Brynjolf touched her shoulder. "Then I have an important task for you." He watched her look up at him with uncertainty before nodding. Fair enough. Giving her a small smile, he squeezed reassuringly. "I need you to break into Mercer's home and search for anything that could tell us where he's gone."
A bit of hope, as well as mischief flashed in those blue eyes, that fire roaring now. "He has a house in Riften?" She seemed a little too eager with the information. Though, all considering the events that had taken place, the more eager, the better.
Giving a small incline of his head, Brynjolf's smile grew. "Aye. A gift from the Black-Briard after they kicked the previous family out." More like forced out, a small voice reminded him. "It's a place called Riftweald Manor. He never stays there, however, just pays for the upkeep on it." Though Brynjolf was aware that Mercer had hidden some high dollar items there. Just what, he didn't know. "Hired some lout by the name of Vald to guard the place."
"I'll take care of it." She said, her hand gripping the handle of her blade, something elven made. It was both beautiful and wicked, that much Brynjolf knew. He had seen her practicing with it, and she was a whirlwind of terror and grace. Plus, what she could do with a bow and arrows was something that still gave him nightmares. This girl was someone not to be messed with, clearly, and Mercer had done just that.
"Be careful, lass." He rumbled affectionately, his hand moving from her shoulder to her face, unintentionally making the girl look up at him, her blue eyes confused and curious. Her pink lips parted with a question he wished she would ask... "This is the last place in Skyrim I'd ever want to send you." He pushed on, stomping down on his desires, forcing himself to step back, nodding his head. "Just find a way in, get the information and leave." He paused again, before giving her a smile, something dark and wicked, his eyes alight with a dark amusement. "You have permission to kill anyone that stands in your way."
A dark laugh escaped the small half Bosmer, the sound sending another chill of delight down Brynjolf's spine. "Oh, don't worry… I will."
Thankfully, it didn't take Fiona long to return to him, safe, sound and whole. On the plus side, Vald was alive, much to Vex's dismay, but that didn't put more unneeded blood on the Guilds hands in the future.
As she set down the bags of goods she had acquired from Mercer's former house, Fiona leaned on the desk. Brynjolf couldn't help but be impressed. "So…" She began slowly, perching herself as he looked through her haul. "What's missing from the vault?"
Looking up, Brynjolf sighed, rubbing his face. "Better question would be; "What did he leave?"" It was the truth, unfortunately. Everything was gone. Down to the last speck of gold dust. "Mercer took everything. Even all of our plans are gone."
Fiona's brows shot up, discontent painted across her face, her arms crossed firmly as her brows furrowed in confusion. "Plans for what?"
Did she not know? More than likely not.
Sighing before he laughed softly, lowering his voice from the others who were nearby, skulking and muttering to themselves. "Before Mercer took over, Gallus started collecting every bit of material he could on locations the Guild could heist." Nodding, Brynjolf looked a bit proud knowing this information. Gallus had taught him quite a bit. "Museums, keeps, estates... you name it." Then another sigh escaped him, shaking his head. "But by the time Mercer took over the Guild we must have had a few dozen. Maybe more. Now they're gone."
Fiona's face was still a work of confusion and frustration, mirroring how Brynjolf was feeling. "How could he have opened the vault door alone?" She asked, pushing off the desk, pacing around the Nord now.
Wasn't that the million septim question?
"I don't have a clue." Which was the frustrating truth. "That door is impenetrable. Without two keys, it's impossible to open." Absently he touched his key, making sure it was still there. Damn it, now he was paranoid over a stupid key. "I have a key, Delvin has a key, and Mercer has a key. That's it. There are no other copies."
Meeting Fiona's eyes, he saw something in them. A glint of knowing, but she didn't seem to be able to put it into words. "We should talk to Karliah," the red headed Nord said as he stood, nodding slowly. "I believe there's something she hasn't told either of us, lass."
Fiona nodded, though she seemed to hesitate, her hand on something in her cloak as she spoke. "Any luck on finding Mercer? Even a little bit?"
Sighing, Brynjolf shook his head, moving to the desk, picking up messages he had gotten just before she had returned. "We've scoured the town and I've too spoken to every contact we have left. No sign of Mercer." Damn it, damn it, damn it! This was pissing him off again. "Any luck on your end?"
The small Mer gave a small incline of her head. "He wasn't there, but I found these plans." Producing a small bit of parchment, she handed them over. It looked like a bit of weight came off her shoulders.
Picking it up hesitantly, Brynjolf carefully unfolded the documents, blinking as he reread them a few times, cussing so loud everyone in the Cistern looked at him. "Shor's beard! He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer?!" This was beyond infuriating! How dare Mercer! "That was Gallus's pet project. If he gets his hands on them, you can be certain he'll be gone for good and set up for life." His jaw clenched, the news of this angered the Nord beyond anything he had ever felt before. The sting of betrayal was all the more painful.
How could Mercer do this to them? The Guild? Had he no sense of loyalty? Sure, they were thieves, but a Guild full of loyalless thieves made for nothing good. What could have turned Mercer against them like this?
"Then we have to stop him." She didn't need to tell him twice.
"Agreed." The redhead said curtly, looking up from the documents. "He's taken everything the Guild has left, and to go after one of the last greatest heists is just an insult." Punching the table for emphasis, he sighed, pushing his hair back. He glanced up, hearing the secret entrance hatch open and close. Ah, she was back, finally. "I've spoken to Karliah, and made amends for how the Guild's treated her." She deserved that much and so much more. "Now that she has returned, she wishes to speak with both of us. Quickly, we have no time to lose."
Breathing in, Brynjolf rubbed his face, chuckling softly. Now that had been an adventure. Tracking Mercer across Skyrim, into a set of Dwemer Ruins, Irkngthand. From there, they stumbled into the buried Falmer ruins. Clearly it was all meant to be forgotten and undisturbed.
Unfortunately fate had other plans.
Between the Dwemer contraptions of death and the Falmer themselves, Brynjolf wanted to turn back and go home. Yet, both Fiona and Kharlia pressed on; Each with a personal vendetta against the former Thief Master.
He still had the sour taste of betrayal on his tongue. All those years of shared mugs, countless heists and laughter… it all seemed for naught. Brynjolf thought he had found a Brother, but instead he found a dagger at his throat.
The thief couldn't believe how blind he had been.
Yet, as they traversed this ruin, the passing comments of begrudging respect that Mercer had gotten past all of these traps, he noticed that Fiona had barely said one word.
Now and then in the dim lightly, he saw the scar on her throat, a sick feeling in his stomach. He wondered what it felt like, that betrayal hitting her harder than anything. She had just been a fledgling, doing her best to prove she was useful to the guild, earning everyone's trust; Just to have it thrown in her face as she was left to die, alone in a forgotten ruin.
Thank the Eight that Karliah had been there.
It took about a day, maybe a little less before they finally came across the chamber; Brynjolf having noticed a while ago, between breaks, that this section of the ruin seemed very unstable. The shaking was getting more and more intense with each passing hour. He was sure this was Mercer's doing. Breaking the balance.
Disgusting.
"He's close. I'm certain of it." Karliah's voice was sudden, breaking the silence they had been trapped in. "We must prepare ourselves." It was then Brynjolf noticed the ornate door in front of him.
Taking a deep breath, he nodded. The redhead right then realized what all of this meant, and that he was more than ready for it. "Then this is it," he murmured softly, glancing Fiona's way as she pulled out her bow, her eyes unreadable. "We do this for Gallus and for the Guild." And for you, he added silently.
Right then, their eyes met, almost if she had heard his thoughts. The half-bosmer nodded, smiling before she strode forward, opening the door with a soft sigh, slipping in. Both himself and the dark elf followed, crouching low to avoid detection.
As soon as they entered, the Dunmer scouted ahead, her voice low and hushed as she spoke. "He's here and he hasn't seen us yet." Her tone was tense, unsure, but she wanted to believe they had a chance. "Brynjolf, watch the door."
He didn't need to be told twice. Drawing his sword, the Nord nodded his head. "Aye, lass. Nothing's getting by me." Turning back to the door, he shifted his stance, ready for whatever would come through. If anything. Or anyone.
Behind him, he heard Fiona speak softly, followed by Karliah's quick, hushed tone, "Climb down that ledge and see if you can..."
Then another voice sounded off; One more familiar, that hurt just hearing the side and sarcastic tone. "Karliah," he began, Brynjolf could almost hear the sneer in his voice, "when will you learn you can't get the drop on me?"
Alarms started going off in his head, Brynjolf turning to bring his aid, only to find himself frozen. What in the Eight…
From below, Mercer's voice echoed around them, a laugh in his voice. "Karliah, I'll deal with you after I rid myself of your irksome companions." There, he laughed, like he thought he was about to win. "In the meantime, perhaps you and Brynjolf should get better acquainted."
That's when his body started moving. Shit.
When his body started moving of its own accord, Brynjolf yelped, trying to fight it, but the hold on him was like a vice!
"What's... what's happening... I can't stop myself." He was trying, his muscles screaming in protest. The Nord was terrified he couldn't control his body, not even as he started swinging at Karliah.
"Damn you, Mercer!" she spit, her voice acidic as she drew her knife, perrying his swing. "Fight it, Brynjolf... he's taken control of you!" The concerned encouragement was so welcoming, Brynjolf, who seemed to only have control of his head, nodded.
But try as he might, it was like someone had grabbed him by his soul. Grunting, he shook his head, feeling dread and defeat take him. "I'm sorry lass, I... I can't..." It didn't mean he wasn't still trying, but by the Eight, it felt next to impossible!
Hearing Mercer shout, suddenly, in pain, his head shot to the podium he was standing on. The hold on his soul lessened, the Nord feeling like he could breathe easier..
"YOU STUPID BITCH!" He roared, swinging out with one of his Dwemer blades, only to strike the statue.
It was right then he realized he hadn't seen Fiona for a good few minutes. A smile came to his face as he blocked a swipe from the Dunmer. That's his girl!
The fight between Fiona and Mercer was quick as it was ruthless; Everytime he went invisible, she became visible, firing off shot after shot at him. The second he became visible, she hid again in the shadows, firing shots from seemingly random locations.
He winced as the former Guild Master picked up a rock, tossing it in the last place he saw her, hearing the half-elf cry out. A rage swelled in him, Mercer was going to pay for that! Brynjolf turned his head towards the sound, wanting to rush to her aid. It was then he realized, she had him distracted.
Mercer was walking towards the spot her cry had come from, but a trained eye paying attention saw that she had moved, one with the shadows before she leaped out, reminding him of a lioness, stabbing the former Guildleader in the back.
The way Mercer's eyes bugged out of his head, the blood coming from his mouth as he fell to his knees, looking up at her in surprise was enough to make the pride swell in his chest. Fiona had no pity, no forgiveness in her gaze as she withdrew her sword, her lips parted in a snarl as she swung it around, cleanly slicing his head off. Maeven would not like that.
Unfortunately, as soon as his head hit the ground, the whole cavern began shaking violently.
"Damn! This place is coming down!"
Karliah's surprised shout brought the Nord out of his thoughts. Watching her dodge a piece of the falling ceiling, he looked to Fiona, cleaning her sword as she looked their way. He watched her wince as there was a metallic snap above them, Brynjolf noticing the pipes had burst and were gushing water into their confined space.
"Quick, get the Skeleton Key and the Eye and let's get out of here!"
The blonde half-elf didn't need to be told twice.
Swallowing the unease in his stomach, Brynjold turned to the door, giving it a push. Nothing. Shit! "No luck there, lasses." He motioned to the door as they both looked at him, the redhead giving it a shove with all his might for emphasis. "Something must have fallen on the other side of the door because it isn't moving!"
"We have to find another way out of here before the place fills with water!"
The panic in the Dunmer female's voice was concerning. Looking around the room, the Nord felt his own beginning to rise. If she felt helpless and trapped, what did that mean for the rest of them? Swallowing, he looked down as water splashed at his feet. By the Eight, he didn't want this to be his end.
"Look, up there!"
Turning his attention to Fiona, relieved she was still with them, he noticed she was pointing. Following her gaze, he noticed there was a whole in the ceiling. "Perfect!" He shouted, moving to take a step from his spot, but thought better of it.
Looking to Karliah, purple met green, an understanding in them. They had to wait for the room to fill up and swim.
Getting out of that damned Drawven ruin had been a helluva lot easier than getting in. For once in his life, getting back to the Cistern had been like a breath of fresh air. Not only had Mercer been dealt with, but they also had the Eyes of the Falmer, the Key and Mercer's swords as proof of his death.
That man would not leave without them, meaning he had to be dead to give them up.
All in all, it was bitter sweet, reuniting with the Guild, friends and family glad to see that not only Brynjolf had made it, but also Karliah and Fiona.
Unfortunately, the two Mer didn't linger long, both promising to return later. He knew why; They had to return Nocturnal's Key. He wished to go with them, but he knew his place was here. Filling everyone in, at least what he could.
Plus he had a surprise in store for when the two Mer returned.
It took some doing, but Brynjolf got the Guild to assemble in the Cistern as Karliah and Fiona returned, flaggons in hand, everyone looking super happy. The redheaded Nord noted the glances the two exchanged, but then Karliah's face broke into a smile.
She had managed to keep it a secret, thank the Eight. Not that he doubted her, with excitement now humming in the air, he was just happy she had waited. It had been talked about shortly after she had returned, everyone was in agreement.
He waited until Fiona approached him, lowering her hood, giving him a curious look.
"Bryn…?"
Holding up his hand, he cast a glance around, chuckling softly. "Look, I've never been good at these things, so I'm just going to keep it short." This earned him an even more confused look written across her face. She had no idea what was coming. "Being Guild Master means more than just getting a cut of all the loot, it's about being a leader and keeping this rabble in order." Taking a deep breath, he smiled slowly, meeting the curious, confused blue eyes of his half-mer friend. "With that in mind, I propose that the position of Guild Master should be yours." Turning to his left, he nodded to the clean-shaven male. "Delvin?"
"W-Wait-"
"Agreed."
Turning to the blonde female on his right. "Vex?"
"Hold o-"
"Sure, why not."
Finally turning to the female Dunmer behind Fiona. "Karliah?"
"Y-You guys-!"
"Absolutely."
Turning back to the flabbergasted half-elf, Brynjolf smiled, opening his arms. "Everyone is in agreement, so all I can do now is name you Guild Master and wish you good fortune and long life." Her face was definitely something of shock and surprise.
Clearing his throat, he chuckled, waving his hands. "Now everyone get back to work."
"NOW HOLD ON JUST A BLOODY FUCKING SECOND!"
Wincing at the sudden volume of her voice, Brynjolf turned back to Fiona, surprised how upset she looked. "D-Don't I get a say in this?" She asked, her voice shaking as she looked around at all of them.
Frowning, the Nord stepped forward, putting his hand on her shoulder, confused. "Lass, I-I thought you would want this?"
"What? To lead an entire Guild I just joined, after being betrayed by the last one?" Putting her hand over his own, he could feel her shaking, the way she looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. "Trust me, you don't know just how much I appreciate how much you believe in me, but I-I can't accept."
He watched her look around, smiling as the tears began to roll down her face. "I'm s-sorry everyone," she said softly, shaking her head. "I'm not… not leader material." Sniffing, she rubbed her face with her arm, leaning into his touch.
Behind him he swore Vex snorted, but when he glanced her way, her eyes were suspiciously wet.
"I think… You, Bryn," Fiona said slowly, "you should be our leader."
For a moment, everyone tensed up, even Brynjolf himself. He was even less leader material, but he had been here almost the longest. Devlin definitely longer than he, but he never got as close to Galius or Mercer to learn how to run things. Not like him at least.
"She's got a point, Bryn," came the rough comment from Delvin.
"No shit she does; Hell, Brynjolf has basically been leading us since Mercer had taken over." There was Vex.
All eyes turned to Karliah, who was rubbing her chin, looking thoughtful before she raised her head, nodding slowly. "Honestly, Galius, before he passed, was talking about naming you his successor, Brynjolf. He would approve and so do I."
He was stunned. Speechless.
"So, are we now in total agreement?" Fiona asked, smiling as the redheaded Nord looked down at her, not believing what was happening.
"Agreed!" Came the chorus of his friends and family.
Brynjolf was now Thieves Guild Leader and Thief Master appointed by his peers. How it was a bittersweet, but welcoming feeling.
The celebration had started shortly after the announcement was made to the rest of the Guild. Brynjolf had stuck around for a cup or two of mead, thanking everyone who wished him well and complimented his skills, telling him how he was perfect for the job.
It was surprising, really, just how many of them had always believed in him.
He knew they were right, but he couldn't help wondering if he would be as weak minded as Mercer in the end. If he would betray his vows over jealousy. Or for love.
Casting a stray glance across the Flagon to a certain short blonde, happily talking with Devlin and Drige about something. Her little animated bursts making them laugh. It was definitely a sight to see, the small half-elf that brought the Guild together again.
She would have made a good leader, he noted silently, finishing off his drink, but her skills were definitely more for being out in the field.
Quietly, while no one was paying attention, Brynjolf slipped from the celebration, needing a little bit of time to himself...
Which was how he ended up here tonight, with Fiona sitting on his desk, looking like his own personal sin. He wouldn't lie, he was attracted to her. The last few weeks of her putting in such hard work, and then the last few days of celebrating, watching her feel more at home; Being welcomed fully with such open arms now.
"You are something else," he commented, leaning forward, resting his hand on her thigh, their eyes meeting as he too, felt the spark. "Coming in here, tempting me like this."
Her honeyed brow quirked, a wicked smirk crossing her features, making her look more Elven than human. It was beautiful as it was terrifying. "Is that so? I'm tempting you?" She laughed as she slipped from the table, his hand dropping as she looked down at him. "Whatever would I do that for?"
"To be my personal demon?" he countered, smirking back as he lifted his hand, offering it to her.
The young half-mer eyed him for a moment, then took his hand, sitting herself in his lap. The way she licked her lips as she touched his face, the smell of the honey brew on her breath made the hair on the back of his neck rise. "Maybe," she murmured, closing the space between their faces, kissing him finally.
It was anything but gentle, as she nipped and sucked at his bottom lip. Shamelessly, his hands wondered, one going up the backside of her dress, getting a nice, firm handful of her ass, giving it a squeeze. She let out a soft moan, breaking the kiss with a smile as she made quick work of his armor. Deft fingers this one.
Had this been anyone else or anywhere else, he would be worried about such important pieces falling from him. Fact was, above anyone else here, he trusted her the most with his life.
Stopping her hands as they got to his trouser draw strings, he smiled, sneaking another kiss. "Not here," he rumbled, his voice thick with lust. Gently removing her from his lap as he stood, he let the final pieces of his armor fall, taking her hand, leading her to the training room.
Call the Nord modest, but honestly, as much as the idea of bending Fiona over the desk in the Cistern and fucking her brains out sounded good, he wanted this to be… more. Plus no one was drunk enough yet to try shooting arrows or throwing knives. Yet.
Leading the half-bosmer into the room with him, Brynjolf paused long enough to close the door and lock it. Didn't need anyone walking in and ruining the moment. Turning back to Fiona, he stopped short, swallowing hard, seeing the dress she had been wearing on the floor.
She beckoned him with a finger, smiling so sweetly. Permission given, and he wasn't about to waste another second.
"By the Eight," he whispered, walking towards her, without hesitation putting his hands on her chest, groping her breasts gently like they were ripe peaches. If he hadn't been hard before, now would be an understatement. "Gods, you're beautiful," Brynjolf muttered, his thumbs brushing over her nipples with care, his eyes narrowing as she moaned.
Fucking hell did he need this. Her. He needed her.
Zoning back in when she laughed, something high and breathy, he flushed. Maybe he was too eager, it had been too long since he had laid with someone. Not that he hadn't been offered or solicited, he just… hadn't felt the drive. Not until now.
"Easy there," she scolded lightly, freeing herself from his grasp, kneeling down in front of him.
Brynjolf wasn't sure what to do with himself right then; This wasn't his first blowjob, but it was the first time someone wanted to give him one that wasn't being paid to. At least, that he remembered currently.
A soft hiss escaped him as she quickly undid his ties and belt, his pants dropping quickly as his hardon sprang free, the cool breeze from the underground brushing across new exposed parts of him. Still, the Nord couldn't help blushing as she grasped him, his hand going to her shoulder for support.
"My, my," he heard her purr, only making the blush upon his face the brighter, a shiver going up his spine as she pumped him slowly. "You are definitely hiding a dangerous object in your pants, my Nightingale."
Reminding himself to breath, he nodded, sinking his free hand into her blonde locks, giving a small grip as he felt her breath on his head, his whole body twitching as her tongue licked over his glands. Sending a quick prayer to his Gods, he might not last if she keeps teasing him!
"Fuck," he grunted, his head falling back as she took his head into her mouth, sucking just so. Stars danced in front of his eyes, so intensely that he had to close them. She was modest at first, probably testing the waters because of his size and girth. At best, Brynjolf was average, but what he lacked in length, he made up in his girth.
Breathing as Fiona found her rhythm with his cock, he began rocking slowly, groaning softly as he felt himself sliding deeper into her mouth. She hummed with approval, the very feeling drawing the stars back, making him groan softly.
He wasn't going to last much longer.
For once, he was having a hard time forming words, but he was trying his best. She had to know. "F-Fuck, Fi-Fiona-aaahh!" Of their own accord, his hips jerked forward, moaning her name as he released in her mouth.
The damn sneak had cupped his balls just so as he was nearing that peak!
Panting as she pulled back, he opened his eyes, blinking the stars away to watch her swallow. Damn if that wasn't the hottest thing he had seen.
"You… You are something else," he said again, and the redhead was sure tonight would not be the second or last time he would say that about her. Pulling his pants back up, but not all the way, he motioned for her to stand.
Fiona obeyed, though she looked curious. Good.
Pulling her naked form against his mostly clothed one, Brynjolf kissed her again.
This time it was slower, a sizzle almost audible between them as he picked her up, walking them towards the table in the corner. Breaking the kiss, he smiled, leaning over her, touching her face. Fiona smiled back, her small hand trailing down his chest, hooking her finger under his shirt, giving it a tug.
Pulling it off, he dipped his head, kissing her neck, biting playfully, grinning as it elicited a gasp from her, her hand going to his hair as he sucked on the spot. "T-Tease," she breathed, pressing her naked chest against his, the Nord bringing a hand up, kneading a breast.
Every little sound she made was… honestly erotic. A soft groan left him as she spread her legs, welcoming him between them, his hardening cock brushing against the soft skin of her thighs, the warmth of her core against his leg.
"Shit, lass," he rumbled against her skin, dipping lower, kissing both her breasts as he cupped them in his hands. Glancing up as Fiona breathed in, he swallowed, seeing that look of want and lust in her eyes, her puffy lips parted slightly. Fuck.
"Are you just going to worship me, or are you going to fuck me?"
For a second, he was taken back, but then he laughed, lifting a brow. If anything, Fiona was always straight to the point.
Still, he smiled, standing slowly, letting his pants drop again. "Can't a man do both?" he asked, spreading her legs as she laid back on the table, chuckling as the blonde rolled her eyes, then winked. Adjusting her so her bottom was just barely off the edge, a low groan left him as he settled between her, his shaft rubbing against her wet slit.
Pressing himself between her folds, he shuddered, feeling her hot warmth. He wasn't one for frotting, but right then, his little half-elf felt fantastic.
Breathing in, Brynjolf moved back slightly, getting his head into position, an unnaturally high gasp leaving him as she took his head with such ease. Promiscuous, wasn't she?
It didn't matter. What mattered was right then, what they were doing. Together.
Pushing in, he hissed at how… It was an experience, to say the least. She was ready for him, welcoming him with little resistance. But the slightest thrust made her clench around him, once more stars were clouding his vision, a low grunt as he began thrusting.
Beneath him, she squirmed, her head tilted back as he started thrusting, enjoying the view of her. Leaning down he kissed her chest again, moving to one breast, kissing and licking at her nipple, chancing it to suck on the hardened nub. A whine left her lips as she wiggled on his cock, a surprised moan choking out of him as he felt himself slide deeper, hissing as she clenched so tightly around him.
Though it made him curious, did she have sensitive places? All women did, it just took some finding, but her breasts?
"Shit, B-Bryn," she mumbled, her cheeks flushed as she propped herself up on her elbow, he took in the view of her, "don't be gentle, please."
Fiona's tone caught him off guard, but the look in her eyes told him differently. "Trying to order your Guild Master around?" he taunted, cupping her face with one hand, grinning as she tilted her head, exposing her neck to him. Keeping his pace even, he groaned as she clenched again as he kissed his hickie from before.
Cradling the back of her head, he kissed up her neck, sucking at her earlobe softly. Unintentionally, his thumb and forefinger brushed against the point of her ear, a sudden cry coming from her as she bucked her hips against his, Brynjolf grunted, a groan leaving him as he felt himself somewhere deeper once more.
She was tight as a vice for a moment, fluttering around him so sweetly. The redheaded Nord reminding himself how to breathe.
"Fuck girl," he snarled, picking up the pace, doing the motion again. She cried out again, her walls contracting around him almost painfully tight, her hips moving in sync with his. The blonde half-elf was wetter now, he noted, feeling some of her slick juices rolling down his thigh.
Had she…?
That means the rumors he had heard were true, then. Female elves had an endogenous zone at the tips of their ears. He thought about doing it again, but she was still trembling around him from the last time. No, he would drive her wild without using her weak spots.
Hopefully, there would always be next time.
Taking a little effort, Brynjolf slowed his pace to a stop. It was right then he heard her sniffle, that caught his attention. Cupping her face in his hands, a look of concern crossing his features. He didn't understand why she was crying. Had he been too rough? "F-Fiona, what's wrong?!" His tone was alarmed, worried even.
With some soft coaxing, Brynjolf watched as she slowly opened her blue eyes, the half-elf looking up at him, giving a watery smile. "It felt so good," she whispered, nuzzling her cheek into his hand. "I-I couldn't think, I was so… No one has touched me like that before."
A surge of pride rose in his chest, but he squashed it down.
But it was right then that he realized there was more to this than them just fucking in the training room.
A lot more.
"Fi, I-I..." he mumbled softly, smiling as she looked up at him, he kissed her again. It was a kiss that he hoped explained what he was feeling for her.
Emotion in general and emotional confessions weren't something he was good with. At all. You could ask anyone in the Guild. So in this kiss, he was putting in where his words lacked. He felt her tense in surprise at first. It took a moment before she brought up her small hands, cupping his face, holding him in the kiss. She understood.
Relief flooded him, happy she got his meaning. Then she rolled her hips, stars exploding behind his eyes as he snuck an arm under her waist.
He got the hint.
The Nord definitely had no issue with continuing. He just wanted to make sure she was okay first. Gently lifting her, pressing the blonde elf's smaller form to his body. He started moving again, the kiss deepening as it became more passionate. He wasn't here to fuck her, he was here to make love to her.
Breaking the kiss with a gasp, he glanced at the door, a loud bang having echoed through the room. But he didn't stop, looking down at Fiona, he groaned, feeling himself begin to swell. Shit, he thought he could drag this out at least a little longer.
"L-Let me," she moaned, wiggling on him again, her inner walls fluttering. Oh? Was she close to?
Nodding, Brynjolf reluctantly pulled out, curious about what she wanted. Here, Fiona smirked, patting the table as she slipped off.
Oh?
Smirking back, he chuckled, hopping up on the table. His cock still wet with her slick juices, bobbing eagerly as he laid back, watching his small lioness climb up and over him. He was going to burn this into his memory.
Taking in the view, he smiled, nodding his head. "I like a woman on top," he rumbled, bringing one hand up, helping guide her. "Definitely sexy."
Above him, she smirked wickedly again, lifting a brow, rubbing her core against his glands, earning a moan from him as he rubbed her hip. "Well, if we're doing this right," she said slowly, she pushed down on his tip, her head tilting back as she pulled his other hand up, "I have another weak spot here." Rolling her hips, Brynjolf's mouth started to go dry as she brought his hand between her legs.
It took a moment, the both of them searching for the one weak spot he knew about. Finding it, he hissed when her hips jerked, her walls clenching around him again. Damn, he thought, gazing up at her, taking in how her head was thrown back, her chest bouncing with her soft pants. Doing it again yearned him a yelp, her legs giving out almost, taking in more of his dick from this angle.
Grunting, he managed a soft laugh, rubbing her leg. "E-Easy girl," he breathed, giving her clit a light rub as he began to thrust upwards, watching her as she looked down at his hand, rolling her hips slower with his motions. It was then Brynjolf decided to keep his movements opposite the blonde elves' hips, nodding his head as the pleasure began to build up. "T-That's it."
This was definitely one of the best sexual experiences he had ever had. Hell, he bet it would be one of the best he would ever have.
Brynjolf tilted his head back as she started riding on him like a champ, shocks of pleasure making his mind go numb now. Moaning, he managed to keep brushing his thumb lightly against her clit with each pass. Above him, she was almost wailing as her walls constricting around him again, squeezing and releasing in time with their movements.
Giving it a chance, he rubbed a little harder, hissing as her legs finally gave out, practically impaling herself impaling herself on his cock.
"Shit!" She shouted, her head falling back as one hand steadying itself on his chest, the other groping one of her own breasts, mouth open as she moaned sweetly for him. Grinding herself against him, he shuddered as each of his thrusts, his head was hitting something inside of her, making her constrict and squeeze him much more sensually than before.
Fuck, he was not going to last much longer.
Next time they did this, he was going to fuck her good and hard, but right now, he was enjoying his horny lioness. This he vowed.
Licking his lips he thrusted up into her the best he could, Brynjolf groaned from the sounds they were making together. The wet sound of her core around his cock was loud and lewd, but he loved it. He noted Fiona's wiggling was becoming apparent again, he could feel her walls fluttering.
"B-Bryn, I'm not… I'm gonna…" She was a mess, a beautiful horny, God-like mess on his cock. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her hair stuck to her face and shoulders, her eyes bright and full of an emotion he couldn't place, but it made his balls clench.
Nodding, he swallowed hard, leaning up on one arm, Brynjolf pulled her into a kiss, running a hand through her hair tenderly. He swore he wasn't going to use this weakness again earlier, but he wanted her to feel as amazing as he did. So, gently, he purposely ran his hand down to her right ear as they kissed, stroking the length of her shell, bringing his thumb and forefinger up, pinching just ever so slightly.
This did a chain reaction to Fiona, and Brynjolf would do it again in a heartbeat; Into the kiss, she cried out, trying to pull back, but he wouldn't let her. The Nord swallowed her pleasured cries as she squeezed around him so tightly, he thought she was going to take his dick off, but damn did it feel good. The small half-bosmer's body shook as she rocked her hips unintentionally, milking him for every bit of seed he was keeping from her.
It took a few more rutting thrusts before he released, prolonging her orgasm almost indefinitely. A low growl leaving him as he felt his seed being taken by her shaking body. Breaking the kiss, he sighed as he slumped back to the table, looking down at his small lover.
It was quite the sight; Fiona laying on top of him, panting, her skin glowing in the dying candle light.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, stroking a lock of hair from her cheek, smiling as she looked up at him, her eyes hazy with lust, basking in her afterglow. By the Eight.
Her smile was lazy as she leaned up, her arms shaking a little, giving him a kiss. As they parted, he smiled, cupping her face, smiling as she kissed his palm. "I dare say you're more good looking than I am," she teased softly.
Pulling her back against him, he was happy she just wanted to lay there, relaxing after such an intense session. Well, that, and he needed a few minutes before they did anything again.
As the candle burned out, Brynjolf stroked her hair, smiling to himself. Maybe this wouldn't last, but… he'll enjoy her for as long as she'll allow. Quietly hoping she too, felt the same.
"Hey, Brynjolf, look who's back!"
Turning, looking rather surprised by the voice, he blinked seeing a short familiar figure standing beside one of the new recruits. An overeager one if you asked him, but all the same, the kid meant well.
Nodding to the recruit, he smiled a little, nodding. "Thank you, Verion, I can handle it from here."
Walking up to her, the Nord smiled as she lowered her hood, opening her vampiric eyes. "Hello, Bryn," she said cooly, taking his forearm in greeting. "Miss me?"
"Always, lass."
It had been a couple of years since that night, many more in between before she left the Guild, returning here and there to help when needed. They still had some chance encounters, Fiona always a welcome sight in the Cistern and the Flagon. Stories galore to tell anyone who was interested.
But there was more between them. At least, the Nord hoped.
"Vampirism looks surprisingly good on you, Fi," he said slowly, reaching up with his free hand, touching her abnormally cool cheek. Sometimes he couldn't help being affectionate with her. Any other time she would have reached up, stopping his affections, but this time she smiled, kissing his palm.
Brynjolf wouldn't lie, it made his heart flutter a little bit.
Giving a little shrug at his confused look, she chuckled. "I needed it to battle the old Lord Harkon, but I'll be back to normal in a few days."
What? A few days? As far as the redheaded Nord remembered, Vampirism doesn't work like that.
Before him, she laughed, shaking her head. "I'll explain it another time. It's not why I'm here."
"It's not?" What other reason could there be then? Fiona didn't really come for casual reasons. He couldn't help that his mind wandered to a place he didn't like. Her ending what they had going between them. The casual love. "Is everything… alright?" he asked, his chest tight with emotion.
He watched her smile, those kissable pink lips looking so inviting. Even knowing there are fangs hiding behind them.
Coming out of his thoughts as she opened her cloak, revealing a little child clinging to her leg, peering out at him shyly. Was this it? That she had a babe of her own now?
Managing a smile, Brynjolf felt a sting of jealousy, but he ignored it. She was here for a reason, showing him this child. Kneeling to the wee ones level, waving a finger at them. "You know, we don't take in children anymore, Fiona," he said casually, smiling as he looked up at her.
"I know," she said softly, her tone oddly warm, he noted, "but that's not it either."
Now she just had him all kinds of confused.
What actually was going on here?
Brynjolf watched as she reached down, patting the little one's head, speaking to them softly. It wasn't a language he recognized, but that wasn't what had his attention now. It was right then did he really see what she had been getting at. Here, in the dim light of the Cistern did the old Nord realize he had Fathered a child with her.
They had his fiery red hair and green eyes, but looked every bit like their Mother. Even had wee pointy ears peeking out, just like Fiona.
Swallowing hard, he looked up at her, unsure what to say.
"Is this… My…?"
"Son." Fiona said softly, smiling as she stroked the little boy's hair. "Brynden Galius."
The old thief was taken back, the smile on his face almost painful as he stood, pulling Fiona into his arms, giving her a kiss. "As soon as you're you, we're marrying."
"Aye lad," she mimicked his accent softly, that playful tone she always had, "we will be wed."
By the Eight, he was one lucky bastard.
- FIN -
Authors Note ; Nothing really of note to add here, other than please enjoy my story!
It's something I've been working on for awhile and now I'm finally happy with it.