((28th of Heartfire/September, 4E 202))

The Bee and Barb looked so dark, so foreboding, despite the hearty laughter and music coming from inside. I knew my reluctance to enter was because of what awaited me inside. Maven. Somehow, I felt that waiting until the next day in favor of rest was a poor decision. However, I couldn't deny that even as a werewolf, I'd been too exhausted to handle life, in general, to be able to meet with her.

Ignoring the glare from Keerava's mate, I ran up the stairs where the Black-Briar woman was sitting at a wooden table. This was a woman who thought she ran the world, someone with just as much, if not more, arrogance than Mercer. This was a woman who would throw a hissy fit if something didn't go her way. She fixed me with a glance that might have chilled anyone else's bones, but as soon as she did, my blood ran hot with contempt.

"So you're the one," she began, looking me up and down with distaste. "Hmm. You don't look so impressive."

My temper flared, and I clenched my teeth in anger. "How about we skip the conversation?" I snapped irritably, earning me a raised brow from Maven.

"Well, you're a firebrand, aren't you?" she commented. "It's about time Brynjolf sent me someone with business sense. I was beginning to think he was running some sort of beggar's guild over there."

"You have no faith in the Thieves Guild?"

Maven laughed derisively. "Faith? I don't have faith in anyone. All I care about is cause and effect. Did the job get done, and was it done correctly. There's no gray area."

I didn't want to bother with this woman any longer than I had to. "Where do I begin?"

"Head to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun and look for Mallus Maccius. He'll fill you in on all the details." She grabbed my arm, and I instantly ripped it away.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, rubbing the area she'd held. If she wasn't so damn important to the Guild, I might have socked her right there.

"Listen to me, petty thief. One more time in case I wasn't clear. You butcher this job, and you'll be sorry."

...

((29th of Heartfire/September, 4E 202))

The Bannered Mare was almost empty when I walked through its doors, thinking about how the Guild required me to travel to Whiterun too often. The only person I didn't recognize was a single fellow in the far back of the kitchen, chugging a full mug of mead. He matched the description I'd been given by Maven, though he didn't seem to appreciate my presence once I approached.

"Can't a man drink in peace?" he slurred, giving me as sharp a glare that a drunk man could.

"Maven Black-Briar sent me here about Sabjorn," I informed him, hoping he wasn't too intoxicated to pay attention. Thankfully, he lit up at my explanation, wiping the golden drops of mead from his mouth.

"Oh, it's you!" He shifted in his seat and stuck out a hand, which I slowly shook. "Mallus Maccius. Well, as I'm sure Maven said, Honningbrew Meadery needs to be put out of business."

I nodded to confirm his assumption and followed it with a question. "How am I supposed to do that?" Mallus leaned back and gave me a once-over. It felt almost like an insult, as if I didn't look up to the task.

"I'm going to keep this short because we have a lot to do. Honningbrew's owner, Sabjorn, is about to hold a tasting for Whiterun's Captain of the Guard, and we're going to poison the mead." He rubbed his hands together gleefully. I made a circular motion with my hand when he didn't explain further.

"Do you have the poison?" I spoke slowly, just in case the drunken bastard couldn't understand me. By Oblivion, I'm the one who can't understand you. Mallus shook his head from side to side, and his words were bunched together when he finally managed to reply.

"No, no. That's the beauty of the whole plan. We're going to get Sabjorn to give it to us." I automatically snorted in disbelief, thinking the man crazy. What fool would give someone the means to destroy their life? I relayed my doubts to Mallus.

"Do you expect me to be able to stroll into Honningbrew Meadery and say-" I deepened my voice to show I was making a mockery. "Hey, would you be so kind as to give me poison so I can ruin your business? Thanks, mate!" Mallus scowled at my derogatory tone.

"The Meadery has quite a pest problem, and the whole city knows about it," he drawled, lifting the mug to his lips for another swig. "Pest poison and mead don't mix well. You know what I mean?"

"You and mead don't seem to mix well, either." He ignored my pointed comment.

"You're going to happen by and lend a helping hand." Mallus made air quotes around the last two words. "He's going to give you the poison to use on the pests, but you're also going to dump it into the brewing bay. Maven and I spent weeks planning this." I bit the inside of my cheek.

"So why didn't you do it before?" The frown seemed almost permanently stuck to him as he responded.

"You don't understand. All we need is someone like you to get in there and get it done." He shoved me backward. "Now get going before Sabjorn grows a brain and hires someone else to do the dirty work." I wanted to snap the prick's arm to show him I wasn't someone to annoy. Despite the urge, I left without another word.

...

It was easy to convince Sabjorn to give up the poison, as well as half my pay up front. The poor fool was so desperate to get rid of the skeevers that he couldn't see his downfall.

The first thing I noticed in the cellar was that bear traps were scattered everywhere. I jabbed a stick onto the trigger of all I ran across. Some had already been set off, dead skeevers trapped in the middle. I made a mental note to keep an eye out as I went along, lest I lose a leg to carelessness.

Speaking of the nasty little rodents- though little was probably not the most accurate description- I found countless skeevers roaming the tunnels. Some were alive, some dead. "What kind of bastard lets a skeever problem turn into an infestation of this scale?" My muttering to myself either proved my insanity or kept me from going mad. Either way, the further I went, the more skeevers I ran across.

The cellar eventually led into a cave, which I'll admit was a bit of a surprise. Deeper inside, I was distracted by a pile of skeletons, giving a skeever enough of an opening to sink its teeth into my arm. Letting out an astonished cry, I cut the damn thing from the neck to force it off. I'd never particularly wanted to know how the inside of a rodent's throat looked. As I tended to the bite wound, I realized I was lucky to have lycan blood to keep me safe from disease.

My whole body quivered as an idea occurred to me. Brynjolf may have seen my last transformation, but nothing was stopping me here. I removed my armor and bent down on all fours, a growl surging through my lips as my bone structure shifted. Claws ripped through my fingers while a tail sprouted from the base of the elongating spine, and fur tore through my pores. The pain lasted only for an instant, and once complete, I gave a mighty howl. There was nothing left in my head but the glory and thrill of the hunt. I hadn't allowed myself to give in at Goldenglow; now, I could finally kill the urge.

The skeevers stood no chance against my vicious fangs and murderous claws, not that they might have if I'd remained human. My eyes could find any prey anywhere. I was strong, I was smart, and I was unstoppable. It was glorious to be in the skin of a wolf.

The only thing better than slaughtering the vermin was the lunatic I discovered in the back of the cave. I could feel the beating of his heart in the ground, and the scent was tantalizing. I'd rarely given myself the pleasure to consume a heart, and the seasons without one made it impossible to resist. As I gripped his arms, I tore off his head, feeling the satisfying vibration through my teeth as his spine snapped. I released the body, leaving the savaged corpse to flop onto the ground and leave a bloody trail. My tongue tasted the air, saliva dripping from my teeth in anticipation.

I snarled in ecstasy as my jaws closed around the thick muscle. Others would cry over how horrid it was to delight in the frenzied mastication of a human heart. Those people hadn't felt the glee of grinding the chest into nothing in search of the prize or the adrenaline surging through lupine veins.

Instinctively, I began to search for another, to feed the wolf inside with a life. My howl split the air when the deprivation gripped me, shaking me to the core. The tiniest bit of humanity slipped through the berserk lycan passion, reminding me of who I was and what my goal was. With that mental prod, I realized that it was time to return, to escape the electrifying sensation of the primal kill.

My body ached as my skeletal structure shifted once more. I whimpered when my skull became too small for my brain, then shivered when that shrank as well. My tail cracked and twisted until it was pulled into the base of my back. The claws became simple fingernails, and the red fur sank back into my pale skin. My eyes were the last to return to normal, the colors shifting and stinging.

Severe heart palpitations pumped my blood through my human body too quickly for comfort. I fell to my knees and breathed in deeply, only realizing I sat in the mangled body of the lunatic when my heavy panting slowed with my heartbeat. Naked and covered in blood, I could only stare at the result of the wolf's unstoppable gluttony. The gory sight was both familiar and unfamiliar. The last body I'd mauled to this extent, beyond human recognition, had been the chief of a bandit camp.

I almost regretted the vicious kill while I redressed, all until I discovered the note. The lunatic had masterminded the skeever infestation with the intent to attack Whiterun. I doubted his plan would have amounted to anything, but the city- and the Companions- still meant something. Kicking aside the madman's distorted head, I made my way out of the tunnels.

To my advantage, I ended up where the mead was processed. It saved me some time and a bit of inconvenience traveling through Sabjorn's view. With a huff, I hoisted myself onto the enormous barrels and dumped in what remained of the skeever poison. I jumped down and dusted myself off, silently congratulating myself for a job well done. With the task complete, it was time to leave the evidence of both poison and a werewolf attack behind. Of course, given my luck, Sabjorn had locked the front door. The last thing I wanted to do was wander the tunnels again, so I prayed there was a key somewhere in the stinkhole. I cursed under my breath and began looking around.

My eagerness must have been to my detriment, as I'd missed the key on the hook right by the door. With a few creative swears, I'd unlocked the door and left, slamming it shut with my foot for good measure. Near the main hall for Honningbrew Meadery was what I assumed to be the captain's horse, swishing its white tail and giving an occasional whinny. I cracked a smile, half-wishing I could get a horse. Unfortunately for me, they were too much work to be worth the investment. For now, I'd have to use the carriages.

Sabjorn was waiting for me inside, giving me a vicious glare. "You fool!" he shot, voice hushed so that I was the only one to hear. "It's about time you finished up! I've been stalling the captain!" He grabbed the second key from its hook and prepared to fetch the new batch of mead, but I took hold of his hand before he could leave.

"Call me a fool again, and I'll let the captain know just what's under your meadery," I threatened, holding out my hand. "Now, where's the rest of my pay?"Unfortunately, Sabjorn appreciated my demand about as much as I'd appreciated his insult.

"I'll give it to you once the captain has finished," he promised with a huff, storming out. That wasn't our agreement. It was clear from how the captain tapped his foot and stared out the window that he wasn't happy with being made to wait. I supposed that would be advantageous in the end, as he'd be harsher towards someone who'd been nothing but a waste of time.

We both turned our necks when Mallus and Sabjorn walked back in, the former giving me a sly wink. Stupid Imperial, don't give it away. Both the captain and Sabjorn were too focused on the mead to pay much attention to Mallus and me. "Now, this is Honningbrew Reserve," Sabjorn announced, lifting a large bottle. "It's our very best, tipped with the perfect amount of honey and spices." He handed it to Captain Caius with a flourish. Briefly placated, the guard smiled.

"Now, Sabjorn," he drawled, "this is mead, not some wine to be sipped and savored!" I watched with great amusement as he took a long swig from the tankard... and spit it out in disgust. "What have you done?!" Between the furious guard and baffled meadery owner, I found it challenging to keep a straight face.

"I... I have no idea what you're talking about!" Sabjorn stammered, his movements slow as he tried to understand what was occurring. Of course, he was bewildered. This plot had nothing to do with him. Mallus let out a small chuckle, to which I discreetly stomped on his foot.

"You assured me that this place was clean!" Caius shouted, apoplectic. A vein stood out on his balding head, and I pressed my lips together at his ire. "I... I'll see to it that you remain in irons for the rest of your days!" the captain spat, throwing the tankard at Sabjorn's face. Ah, Sabjorn. Oh, what an economy! Given life imprisonment for making mead that tastes like ass.

"I can assure you that this is all just a big misunderstanding!" Sabjorn pleaded, still trying to prove his innocence. The guard drew his sword and pointed it at him despite the insistence.

"This way, now!" The captain turned to Mallus. "You, you're in charge around here!" Caius shoved a blubbering Sabjorn out the door, repeatedly shouting various insults. Mallus gave me a triumphant smirk and slapped me on the shoulder.

"Finally. He was absolutely insufferable!" I personally hadn't thought him so horrible or have done so much wrong to warrant jail for life, but as I wasn't a Companion at the present moment, it wasn't my job to worry about the common people any longer.

Gods, Vilkas would flay me alive.

Shaking off my thoughts of the Companions, mercy, and whatever else was going to prey on me, I pondered what to do next. "I'll need to search through Sabjorn's things," I told Mallus. He seemed slightly annoyed over my lack of celebration, but regardless, he handed me an iron key.

"Take this. It'll open the dresser in his room." I thanked him for his help and quickly padded up the stairs. The second I unlocked the dresser, several jewels and rings spilled out onto the floor. I swept them all into my hand, tucking them safely into my pockets.

"Well, he won't be needing these anymore, will he?" I laughed to myself, admiring a jade ring before slipping it with the others. At first search, I didn't think there was much else of worth inside. However, just as I prepared to shut the door, a slip of paper hidden barely hidden underneath the clothing caught my attention.

Within the enclosed crate, you'll find the final payment. As we discussed, Honningbrew Meadery should now begin brewing mead at full production. In regards to your concerns about interference from Maven Black-Briar, I can assure you that I'll do everything in my power to keep her assets and her cronies at bay. This is the beginning of a long and successful future for both of us.

At the top of the page was the same mark I'd seen in the letter of sale at Goldenglow, and a few different ideas formed in my mind. I folded it up and placed it into the pouch opposite the jewelry, hoping to do some research later.

The rest of Sabjorn's personal room held nothing valuable, but behind a locked door, an odd bottle more than worth taking was being prominently displayed. It appeared to be made of solid gold, likely worth more than every jewel in his dresser put together. I turned it around in my fingers, but there was no label. Let's see if Delvin knows anything about this. Maybe I can get a good price for it.

...

((1st of Frostfall/October, 4E 202))

Another vampire ambush marked my return to Riften. In truth, I was tired of the bloodsuckers. In general, our kinds don't mix. There was a difference between me and the vamps feeding behavior, however similar the people of Tamriel viewed us. Not only did I rarely eat from a person, but it also was never an innocent. I'd only taken hearts from bandits, an assassin, that lunatic in the tunnel... and the occasional Thalmor.

"These vampires are becoming a real menace," I heard one guard mutter to another once the threat had died down.

"Heard they're reforming the Dawnguard, in that old fort not far from here. Vampire hunters or something. I'm thinking of joining up, myself." I considered their words and made a mental note to check it out when I got the chance.

I had business to take care of at the moment, so the vampire issue quickly faded from my mind. Asking around for Maven Black-Briar eventually brought me to the Black-Briar meadery, where she stood over a scared-looking Wood Elf. Slightly bored, I let my eyes wander and realized an odd symbol had been etched onto a post. It took me a moment to realize it was a Shadowmark from the Thieves Guild. The 'Protected' Shadowmark, to be precise. I glanced wistfully at the gold on the counter, knowing I couldn't swipe it.

"Yes? I haven't got all day. What do you want?" The voice of Maven took my attention from the few septims.

"I've run Sabjorn out of Honningbrew Meadery, and Mallus is now in charge of it," I announced, placing a hand on my hip. "He's changing it all to Black-Briar Meadery right now." My report seemed to please her, though I couldn't be sure with the lack of an expression on her wrinkled face.

"Good. Did you find anything?" I scrambled to find the paper, finally remembering I'd put it in my hidden pouch. Her lips were pursed when I handed over the now-wrinkled parchment. She inspected it thoroughly, giving a small harrumph when she'd finished reading it over. "Well, it sounds like someone is doing this to me intentionally. They will pay dearly." She did not sound happy, and I wouldn't have been the writer for anything. The Black-Briar matron turned the page over, visibly disappointed. "Shame you read it first. Not very professional, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you," I muttered. If Maven heard, she didn't comment, instead pointing out the symbol at the top of the page.

"Unfortunately, there isn't a name. There's just this odd symbol here." Maven passed it back to me.

"I've seen that symbol before. There was a note in Goldenglow's safe from the sale. Whoever bought Goldenglow is funding Honningbrew as well." I was getting increasingly excited over the discovery, only barely managing to keep up the veneer of tranquility because of Maven's judging stare. This should help the Thieves Guild. I'll go right to Brynjolf, and he-

Maven cleared her throat. "Take this to Mercer Frey," she commanded, remaining still when I visibly deflated. "I assume he compensated you for Goldenglow-"

"He didn't."

"Pardon?"

"I said, he didn't." He had made abundantly clear he wouldn't. "He told me I'd be receiving my payment from you." At my words, Maven appeared less than pleased.

"Well, you'll have to take that up with him, so I won't waste my gold on the likes of you. However, here's something else for your adequate success with the meadery." She tossed a pouch of gold into my hands, ignoring my fierce glare. "Take it and get out of my sight." Gritting my teeth and imagining her with a barrage of arrows in her face, I weighed the small bag as I walked out, frowning as I tightened it to my belt.

"You'd think that for the most successful woman in Skyrim, she could afford a bit more than a beggar's salary." I headed out, knowing that my complaint would go unheard. Still, my heart beat faster as I headed around to the false coffin, betraying my eagerness to show the Thieves Guild what I'd found.

Frey was the nearest member to me once I'd entered the cistern, and despite our mutual hatred for each other, I was too proud of the information I'd uncovered to care. Without bothering to greet the Breton, I slammed the parchment on his desk and pointed to the symbol. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to scold me, but the sight caught his attention. Mercer Frey lifted the page and rubbed at the symbol, then looked at me with something akin to curiosity.

"The same symbol from the other letter? Hmm..." He tucked the page away in a drawer, then fixed his unwavering stare on me. "It's obvious that someone is trying to drive a wedge between Maven and the Guild." I considered the possibility, realizing that it was a daring and admittedly excellent plan.

"Whoever they are, they're pretty damn clever," I commented, waiting for his reply. He continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"Don't take my respect for complacency. They will pay dearly." He cracked his knuckles, then his neck. I considered bringing up the payment for Goldenglow, but quickly deflated and gave up on any compensation for the difficult job.

"Do you know anyone who might be a culprit?" Mercer showed no sign of an answer in his stance or expression, and his voice was flat when he spoke.

"It mentions a Gajul-Lei. That was a code name for an old ally of ours in Solitude." An Argonian, most likely. "His real name is Gulum-Ei, an Argonian." I was right. "If he's betrayed the Guild..." Mercer's hands shook with anger, and when he slammed his right fist onto the desk, the inkwell shuddered and tipped over from the force. "Damn," he swore, shaking ink off his skin and wiping what he could away from his papers. Meanwhile, I was thinking over what he said. A trip to Solitude wouldn't be terrible, plus I could get away from Mercer for a while. Besides, I was curious enough about the mark that I'd prefer to take care of it myself.

"I'll take care of everything," I offered. Mercer's look of distrust led me to explain. "I'll find Gulum-Ei and force him to tell us what he knows." Somehow, I managed to hold back a snide comment and crossed my arms, biting my tongue tightly. After a moment, Frey rolled his eyes and waved me off.

"You do that," he muttered, as though he didn't particularly care what I did. "Just speak to Brynjolf first; he should have some information on that slimy lizard." With that, his cold stare let me know he was done talking, even if his tone hadn't.

...

"Nice, very nice." Delvin turned the decanter of Honninbrew I'd found over and over, scratching his chin in interest. "I could get a good price for this, probably even a better one now that Honninbrew's out o' business."

"So you'll buy it?"

Delvin nodded and placed the golden bottle down. "Yeah, yeah I will. If you happen across any other unusual trinkets like this, be sure and bring 'em to me. I promise it'll be worth the effort." He pulled three pouches from his bag, which I damn well knew had one hundred septims in each.

"You must be confident you can sell this," I commented as he pushed the pouches my way.

"Damn right, I am. Now, I think you'll find this payment to be more than fair." Delvin lifted a brow as though expecting me to deny it, or perhaps ask for more. However, I wasn't an idiot, and as per Mercer's order, I was officially in the Guild now. My job was to make money, and so was Delvin's.

"More than fair," I agreed, pocketing the gold. I clasped his hand firmly in a friendly handshake. "Now, you wouldn't happen to know where Brynjolf ran off to, did you? I'd have thought he'd be back from his job by the time I came back."

Delvin looked me up and down in the oddest way. "Brynjolf, eh? Yeah, he's been in the training room for hours. I know he's still there 'cause he always comes to the front for a drink after a few hits at those dummies."

"Thanks, Del. You're a doll." I tapped his shoulder before getting ready to head out.

"'Ey, Russ? Before you go." Delvin dug around in his back pocket before pulling out a few papers. He selected one before handing it to me. "I've got a job in Solitude if you're interested since you're headed that way anyhow."

I took the paper and eyed it down. "The Blue Palace?"

"Yeah. Tough job, but I figure you can handle it, can't you?"

"Sure can. Thanks for the job, Delvin." Giving a half-salute, I headed off to the back. "Training room, training room," I murmured to myself, flipping a coin up into the air as I walked through the Ragged Flagon. Information on Gulum-Ei, then to Solitude. Gulum-Ei or Delvin's job first?

"Hey, Brynjolf?" I called out, still staring down at the job order in my hand as I strode into the training room. "I have a few questions for you."

"Here to help," the familiar voice answered, sounding somewhat strained.

"Well, I just had a few questions about my new job." I looked up, half-expecting him to have no shirt on like last time. Luckily for my traitorous mind, he was fully clothed, just stood by the training dummies with an unsheathed iron dagger.

Brynjolf nodded, emerald eyes gleaming with mischief as though he knew what I was thinking. "Like I said, lass, I'm here to help."

Clearing my throat and trying to do the same to my mind, I reached around into my back pocket. I'd snatched the paper back from Mercer's desk, and whether or not I was allowed to do so wasn't really a question in my mind. I didn't particularly care where Mercer's orders ended and my permissions began. "This is, uh..." I physically smacked the side of my head to get my damn thoughts in order. "I found a piece of paper at Honninbrew Meadery; it mentions someone named Gajul-Lei." Recognition flashed in the Nord's green eyes, and he slipped his knife into its sheath before heading my way.

"Let me see that, lass." Bryn took the paper from me and ran his finger down the note. "I remember when I saw Aringoth sold Goldenglow. My first thought was wondering what that idiot was thinking. But this? This is quite the coincidence, don't you think?"

"That's why I don't think it's a coincidence."

Brynjolf's red brows knit together. "Well, that's food for thought now, isn't it?" He sighed and scratched at his short beard. "As for your current job... how about a wager?"

"What?" I queried, watching him take another step toward me. Unsure of his end goal, I backed away, watching him warily. He simply closed the distance, grinning widely. "You're not getting my coinpurse again, Bryn. I won't let you." To prove my point, I set my hand on it- only to find it was already gone. "What the-" I glanced down at my belt, then at a triumphant-looking Brynjolf holding up my coinpurse. Irritation roiled in my hot stomach. "Oh, is this a game? You think this is a game, don't you?"

"Maybe," Brynjolf admitted, pocketing my coin. "Now, how about that wager?"

I leaned in, ready to play. "You do think this is a game."

Brynjolf's smirk remained. "See, I've heard you're a great swordsperson, lass. Anyone on the job with you has said it. Unfortunately for me, I missed out on that opportunity to see it in Goldenglow."

"Your point?"

"I don't think you could beat me in a fight, lass." He removed his cuirass, though I refused to be affected this time. "Come on. Show me your skills. If you win, you get your coin back. If I win-"

"You won't."

"What?"

"You won't win," I said with utter certainty. "You've managed to grab my coinpurse, but challenging me to a swordfight? Bryn, that's suicide." He chuckled softly as he picked up two training swords from the back of the room and tossed one to me. I ran my finger over the dull edge. Heavy oak, similar weight to a real sword, but still mostly harmless. Even a full-handed blow wouldn't do much more than leave a pretty nasty bruise, making it perfect for a basic practice round.

I held up the wooden blade, enthusiasm filling my limbs as I prepared myself. Brynjolf adopted a similar stance to mine. "You're awfully cocky, lass. Aren't you worried? You've never seen me fight either, after all."

I shook my head. "You're trying to confuse me, make me less confident. It won't work." If there was one thing I knew, it was swordfighting. There was nothing I'd worked harder at my entire life. I'd bested Aela, Farkas, even Skjor with my one-handed blade. I tightened my fingers on the wooden hilt, preparing myself for the Nord's swing.

Just as I'd planned, Brynjolf made the first move, swinging toward my neck when he believed I was lost in thought. I recognized the maneuver immediately and darted out of the way, bringing my sword up under his outstretched arm in the same move. A touch at his ribs secured my victory, and I cackled as I stood up straight. "I do believe that-"

"Two out of three!" Brynjolf's wooden sword touched my chest, the man laughing at my visible irritation.

"Oh, you want to go?" I challenged dangerously, squeezing the hilt. "You want to play that game, buddy?"

Brynjolf leaned in closely, breath hot on my nose. His dark red hair brushed at my cheeks. "Lass, I'll play this game as long as I need to."

I grinned widely and shoved him backward. "That won't work a second time, Bryn." I returned to a battle stance. "Good luck, scoundrel."

No more words, no more teasing. The real fight began.

Blade met blade, the rough clacking of the wood the only sounds in the training room. I fought with ease, excitement sending adrenaline coursing through my veins. He wasn't inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, making the fight that much more thrilling. Though my skill exceeded his, Brynjolf's greater strength and stamina for the most part made up for the gap. Sweat began dripping down my forehead at the same time I noticed the sheen on his. I'd figured out his plan; remain on the defensive until he'd worn me down, then when my own defense dropped, go on the offensive and take me out.

Realizing he was about to throw more strength into a swing, I countered with the same movement. A loud crack echoed around the room, and I squeezed my eyes shut to avoid the shower of splinters. At the clattering of wood on the stone floor, Brynjolf and I looked to our blades. Our practice swords were utterly shattered, broken with the twin blows. I dropped the broken sword, hardly satisfied.

Through uneven breaths, Brynjolf was the first to speak as he threw his sword down as well. "I'd call that... a tie, wouldn't you?"

Before I could fully consider my actions, I darted forward and held his chin. I firmly planted my lips onto his, finding myself enjoying it far more than I should have when Brynjolf immediately reciprocated. His hands trailed down my arms and gripped my wrists tightly. My fingers curled into his belt before I slipped away, my heart beating as heavily as my breathing. A mixture of confusion and fascination shone in his emerald eyes as he crossed his arms.

"I don't think so." Despite the breathiness of my voice, I kept a sly smirk on my face as I dangled both my and his coinpurses from my fingers. Snatched right from his side, the distraction had allowed me to finally claim the upper hand. "I'd call that two out of three."