"Irkngthand," I said dully, staring at the plans. "That's fantastic. Can't wait." While Brynjolf was obviously not bothered by the name, it was clear to him I was less than pleased. My off tone caught his attention.

"Is something the matter, lass?" Brynjolf queried, nudging me slightly. I pushed him off and decided to lie. Why? Because Brynjolf hadn't done a damn thing to earn my trust.

"It's nothing. I just don't like Dwarven ruins. They're like a maze."

Brynjolf- damn the man- lifted a skeptical brow. "I'd prefer the truth."

"Are you calling me a liar?" I challenged, putting my hands on my hips.

Brynjolf stared into my eyes. "I know your tell, lass." He gestured to the right side of my face. "You play with your hair."

I fought the urge to smack him. "What's it to you?" I snapped, giving him a reproachful look as I shoved him away. "It's none of your goddamn business!"

"I won't judge you," he assured me, touching my shoulder companionably.

I chewed on my lip, almost wanting to tell him, someone, anyone, about it. Almost. I scrunched up my nose and pushed him off as. "Look, I'm not saying a damn word, so we might as well get going."

Brynjolf crossed his arms. "Are you sure you're okay to go?"

"Of course." I cracked my knuckles, focusing on my hate for Mercer Frey. That son of a bitch had murdered Gallus, stolen everything the Guild had worked for- that I had worked for- and had tried to kill me. The thoughts continued to assault me, and my mood soured further. "I'd walk a thousand miles if it meant I'd get to slit that bastard's throat." I shot an irritated side-eye at Brynjolf. "But if we get trapped inside that damn place, I'm blaming you, and you're getting eaten first if that's the case." His silence told me I'd unnerved him, and I quashed down a grin.

He clapped his hands together once and cleared his throat. "Well, with that lovely comment, we should get ready to go. We can't leave Karliah hanging at the Shadow Stone."

...

((5th of Morning Star/January, 4E 203))

I peeked over the rocky ledge at the bandits milling about the bronze walkways of Irkngthand. Most seemed unbothered by the icy wind blowing over the hills, but a few seemed to be something other than Nords and dressed warmer. Brynjolf and Karliah were perched on either side of me, taking in the scene as I was.

Karliah spoke first, voice low. "We need to get in," she murmured, "but it won't be easy with all those bandits."

"Why not rush them?" I suggested, rolling my shoulders as I prepared to move down the mountain.

"Hold on, lass." Brynjolf seemed to be staring at something just above the entrance. "We can't take on Mercer exhausted and wounded. Our best bet would be to drop in unexpectedly. See that ledge?" I followed where Brynjolf was pointing and narrowed my eyes.

"I see where you're coming from, but it still looks like there's a bandit chief waiting right in front of the entrance."

"I'll take care of it." Karliah drew her bow from its place on her back. "I don't have enough arrows to take out all the bandits and keep us safe from whatever denizens have made their home within Irkngthand, but I can kill the chief from above if we can get to the roof." We all looked at each other. "Once I shoot the chief down, Brynjolf, you jump down first. On the off chance he doesn't die immediately, I want you to take him by the neck. Once the chief is out of the picture, you'll be able to catch us both to minimize the chances of being hurt."

"I-" About to protest being in Brynjolf's arms once again, my words died out as I considered the quest I was on. Now wasn't the time to engage in petty squabbles. "I think that's the best plan we're bound to come up with in such a short time."

Karliah breathed a sigh of relief, likely because I didn't start a fight with Brynjolf. "Excellent. Let's get started." Brynjolf and I walked behind Karliah, our steps quiet in the heavy snow. Brynjolf kept his gaze forward, something I was very thankful for. The past few days walking beside him, not speaking a word unless absolutely necessary, had already taken its toll on my mental health. At this point, it was just torture.

I lifted myself onto the ledge, taking care not to send any snow down that might alert the bandits. I pulled Karliah up, and we both grasped one of Brynjolf's arms to pull him up as well. "Gods," I muttered to him as he passed. "What'd you eat for breakfast, rocks?"

"Pure granite," Brynjolf replied smoothly, not bothering to get offended. "Now, can you shoot the chief, Karliah?"

Karliah pulled the string on her bow and aimed an ebony arrow at the chief. A nearly silent thwip was the only sound made by her deadly shot, the chief clutching the bloody arrow in his throat with a gurgling death note. Brynjolf's assistance turned out to be unnecessary, as the chief stumbled a bit before falling dead.

Brynjolf climbed down to the bronze flooring below and held his arms up, catching Karliah with ease. A twinge of something pricked at my heart, and I refused to give it any more attention as I followed Karliah's motion. For a moment, being in Brynjolf's strong arms again made me yearn for what had once been. Stop that, I scolded myself as the Nord released me. You've got enough to worry about without pining for that jackass.

Karliah felt at the lock to Irkngthand's interior. "It's locked," she murmured. "Either from the bandits or Mercer. It doesn't matter who locked it. What matters is that we need to unlock it."

"I've got this." Brynjolf strode forward and played with the lock for a few seconds before a click let us know he'd successfully opened it. "After you." He ushered both Karliah and me in, carefully closing the door after us. As soon as he did, the floor started shaking, and I had to grasp Brynjolf to keep from falling over.

"Damn this place," I hissed. Brynjolf gave me a concerned glance, and I recalled our conversation before going to the Shadow Stone. It didn't matter; I still wasn't telling him. "Karliah? Want to take the lead?"

The Dunmer female shook her head. "I think you should lead."

The memory of Mercer insisting I take the lead resurfaced, and I reflexively tightened my hand around my Nightingale blade. "And Brynjolf?"

"You know my stance on that, lass. You're a born leader."

I faced the giant hallway and suppressed a whine. I don't know if it's because it's a Dwarven ruin or because of what Mercer did to me, but I don't want to take the lead. Even so... "Fine. Follow me." I scrunched up my nose and glared at Brynjolf. "But don't get any ideas. You so much as think about betraying me, and you won't live long enough to finish the thought."

"Aye aye, captain." No sooner had Brynjolf finished his remark did the entire ruin rumble and shake, sending me to the ground. I failed to hide a squeal of terror, and the noise echoed in the room. "That had to be Mercer," Brynjolf growled as he stood up once the shaking stopped. "No doubt."

"Indeed," Karliah agreed. "The Skeleton Key has given him immense power."

"So what, is he a god now?"

"He likely considers himself one, but no, Russet, I wouldn't give him that much credit. He can affect the physical realm to a degree due to unlocking hidden abilities of his own self. However, gods have far more power than a human with a single relic."

"However powerful that relic may be?"

"Correct." Karliah looked up at the ceiling nervously. "Now, we should probably move along. Now that we can be nearly positive Mercer is still in Irkngthand, we need to hurry to the inner area to catch him."

I took the lead without hesitation this time, confident that my two companions were right behind me. Trying not to jump at every hiss of steam or clanking of machinery, I grumbled in irritation. "I hate this place." Fear pooled in my belly. Something pricked at my mind, something I knew addressing would crush me.

"Lass!" I was unexpectedly yanked back by my hood just as we moved through the doorway of the next room. Spinning on my heel, I shoved Brynjolf backward and scowled despite knowing he couldn't see my face.

"What in Oblivion are you doing?!" I snarled, cracking my fingers. "Do you want a sword to the gut?"

Brynjolf was motionless, the barest glint I could see of his eyes boring into me. "Lass... look." He pointed to the room ahead, and although it took a moment to register, as soon as I did, I began retching at the sight.

If I'd taken a single step forward, I'd have slipped in a mess of gore that went far beyond anything I'd ever witnessed or even done as a beast. A human heart had been torn from someone's chest and shoved down their throat, while a third bandit's esophagus had strangled another. A stomach was ripped to pieces by a bandit whose jaw had been torn off, and eyeless heads detached from their bodies were strewn about on the floor. Bone shards were scattered about, and maggots already writhed around in the gore.

While every bit was horrific, the most unnerving was the message that had been left for us using the bloody intestines of the eviscerated bandits.

COME AND GET ME

I was no stranger to blood and death. My time as a lycanthrope had hardened me to the sight of ripped carcasses. However, I'd never seen anything to this extent, not even my experiences with the Thalmor. Clearly, the freak who'd ended these bandits' lives had done so in a display of power. From the blood splatters, it was clear they'd been alive when the damage had been done. The death, the Dwarven ruin, it was all too much.

I buried my face into Brynjolf's chest, not caring about our dispute. Already on edge in this accursed ruin, the sick art was overwhelming. No, no, no... I can't- gods, please! No! The wave was rearing its ugly head for the first time in years, the crushing weight bringing me down to the ground.

A harsh winter... Elves... a room filled with blood and bodies that would never leave me.

"Russet!" A familiar voice wormed its way into my mind, freeing me from the claws of my darker memories. I recognized the arms around me but found no strength to escape. A strong hand held mine as I struggled to climb to my feet. "What in Oblivion was that?" Despite the warm comfort of the embrace, for a brief moment, Brynjolf's voice sounded exactly like the Thalmor Justiciar's from my buried past, and I found the willpower to shove him away forcefully.

Unable- or perhaps unwilling- to give an answer, I rubbed at my eyes and tried to grasp the present. "I- we need to go. Now." I took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever might lie ahead. "Let's get going. Unfortunately, Mercer isn't going to kill himself." I started to run, eyes sweeping the awful hallways and rooms. Along the way, a bottle of Honningbrew Reserve had been set on a Dwemer table. "He knew we'd come after him," I growled, pointing the bottle out. "He's setting up a trail." The unease grew in my heart.

Through the next doorway was a vast room, probably at least twice the size of Windhelm. Karliah started to whisper, and I jumped slightly in surprise. "Look, down there. It's Mercer. That bastard!" My nerves were getting the better of me, and I pretended not to see Brynjolf's concerned expression.

I followed Karliah's line of sight and saw the traitor sneaking around to a pale figure on the edge. "It's a Falmer," I murmured. "Never liked them." After all, I'd seen their insides a few too many times to be comfortable. Stop it! I shoved the memory to the back of my mind before it overtook my senses again. "Can you shoot him from here?"

Karliah shook her head mournfully. "No. He's too far away."

"Dammit," I hissed, watching as Mercer successfully cut the Falmer down with ease. He immediately strutted away, arrogance marking his steps.

"He's toying with us," Karliah broke in. "He wants us to follow."

I chewed on my lip. "Then he knows we're here."

Brynjolf instantly straightened up. "We need to pick up the pace if we're going to catch up with him before he escapes. Once he has those gems, there's no way we'll ever find him again."

"Right." I took a deep breath and started to run again, keeping my desire for Mercer's death at the forefront of my mind. The thought of breaking his neck, putting a dagger into his heart, and caving his ribs in drove me to move even faster. Although going ever-deeper into the Dwarven ruins only made me hate it more and more, I had my reasons.

Deeper in, a pit of unease settled in my belly. Something was off. Something was wrong.

The next door led into a room sickeningly familiar, with old blood and skeletons laying where they'd died. Tables with red-stained shackles were attached to dented bronze tables, and from chains on the wall hung long-decomposed bodies. I recalled the eerie feeling I'd experienced upon entering Irkngthand, and I hated the realization that hit me.

I'd been here before.

Without warning, I fell to my knees, a sharp gasp and tears bursting through. Just as before, the darkness of the memory finally broke through the walls I'd built. My sight blurred until I could no longer discern between reality and the torrent of violent memories.

I was back in the frigid winter of my tenth year, clutching a fur cloak around me as I shuddered in the icy weather. A stumble sent me crashing into the frozen swamp water around Morthal, and I suppressed a cry. All I knew was that Solitude was north, and with luck, I'd find someone to take me in. Unfortunately, I didn't exactly know where north was.

I ended up taking shelter in a Dwemer ruin, eating what few berries I'd managed to scavenge along the way. I didn't remember falling asleep, but I woke up to golden Elves gripping my limbs so tightly I bruised and bled. Their voices were indiscernible over my screaming, but their mouths formed the words 'Talos' and 'Nord.' Unable to break away, I was carted down the stairs of that Dwarven ruin into what could only be a torture room.

Bodies had been strewn about, their crimson blood staining the floor. I was brought to a long stone table and strapped down, my tears doing nothing to sway the Thalmor into letting me go. Bronze shackles cut into the already-wounded skin around my wrists, and I began to hyperventilate as I cried. A harsh slap across my cheek forced me to quiet down, but once electricity from a strange Dwemer device surged through my body, the screams leaped unbidden to my lips.

Over an unknown amount of time, I watched the Thalmor bring in various people and beast-things, torturing them as they tortured me. The only difference was that they left me alive while I watched throats being cut, limbs severed, bodies disemboweled, with endless amounts of blood pouring out of the gaping wounds.

For as long as I remained trapped in that ruin, enduring what seemed like eternal pain, I cried out over and over for help that never came.

"Lass, please!" Once again, the voice of the Nord pulled me from my darkest memories. "Snap out of it!" I forced my eyes open, my lungs screaming as I continued hyperventilating. My eyes again scanned the room, and I held my mouth before scrambling to the side. I vomited heavily, the foul liquid burning my throat as I coughed it up.

"We need to make our way around this room," I croaked, averting my eyes once I stopped heaving. Brynjolf and Karliah shared a concerned glance. "I can't- I'm going to close my eyes. I'll need your help." I shut my eyes. "Brynjolf, stay behind me. Karliah, I'm going to need you to take my hand and lead me through." Karliah nodded and grasped my hand while Brynjolf obeyed and took the rear. "Let's get going."

"Lass..."

I shook my head, well aware of the question he was about to ask. "Leave it." I took a deep breath, wincing at the sharp pain in my lungs. "How about... if we live through this..." I trailed off, knowing the Nord would understand. Karliah slowly walked ahead, her footsteps slightly louder than Brynjolf's. I bit my lip every time my foot hit a bone or metal tool, and I found myself squeezing both Karliah's and Brynjolf's hands as we moved through. While it didn't take too long to reach the hall up ahead, it still felt too long.

As soon as Karliah released my hand, I opened my eyes, relieved to be beyond the torture room. "We need to make up for lost time," she said. "Even precious minutes count."

I nodded in agreement. Mercer couldn't get away with what he'd done to the Guild, but the fact that he'd brought me back to the site of my trauma might as well have set a fire under my feet. My stride was faster than before, as was my blade as I cut down the Falmer that Mercer had left behind for us. Bolting through the rooms, my stamina seemed neverending as my adrenaline refused to fade. Along the way, I found a note from the very man we were hunting down.

One step ahead.

-Mercer

"Russet!" Karliah bowled me over and pulled me aside just as a stone column collapsed in front of the door Mercer had escaped through. Coughing at the dust thrown up at the crash, I waved the particles away from my face and peered at the destruction. "That had to have been Mercer and the Key."

"Dammit!" I shrieked, clutching at my head. "That son of a bitch, I- gods above, I'm going to rip out his goddamn throat when I get to him!"

"How are we supposed to get through?" Karliah queried, her fear evident in her voice.

"Look up!" Brynjolf pointed up to a door several stories above where we currently were. "That might lead the same way."

Karliah furrowed her brows. "How can we be sure it leads the same way?"

"We can't," I growled, "but we don't have time to consider it. Let's go!"

Through crowds of Falmer and still-functional Dwarven automatons, we managed to get up to the door. I didn't hesitate to throw it open and run through. There was no time to lose, not with my breakdowns already slowing us down. Further in, water began to drip from the ceiling, but I swiftly returned my attention to the man I wanted dead more than anything.

"I think I hear him up ahead," Karliah whispered, tugging at my cloak. "Get down and be on your guard." With a nod, I slowed my steps and crouched down low, silent as the grave. I tipped my head, trying to hear what Karliah had. It took a moment, but I did hear scraping and grunts through in the next room. Mercer.

I prepared myself for the biggest fight of my life and cracked open the door, slipping through without a sound. The sight of a gargantuan bronze statue, flawlessly crafted, took my breath away. The one fault I could spy on the great statue was a black-garbed man standing on the shoulder, digging his dagger into the giant gems that made up its eyes. I clenched my fists in anger for far more than his desecration of history.

"Be wary," Karliah murmured behind me, barely audible. "I don't think he's noticed us yet. Russet, take-" Her sentence was never finished, a wicked laugh from ahead cutting through her words.

"Ah, Karliah!" he boomed, swinging around to the second gemstone and going to work. "When will you learn that you can't get the drop on me?" The rocks above us rumbled, and all three of us rolled out of the way to avoid being crushed. The second gem fell from the statue's face, disappearing into Mercer's bag with its twin. He turned our way, but his eyes were fixed solely on me. I recognized the sheer hatred in his eyes, certain my own mirrored it. "You should be dead." With a twitch of his fingers, my companions were frozen where they stood. I was free to move, but it didn't mean much in the face of the Key.

"Sorry your plans didn't quite work out," I ground out. "Should've gone for the head."

Mercer's eyes hardened. "I'll be sure not to make that mistake again." I clutched my hungry blue blade. "When Brynjolf brought you before me, I could feel a shift in the wind, and I knew that it would end with one of us at the end of a blade." He made a point by dropping his dagger and drawing his long Dwarven sword.

"I'm going to kill you," I snarled, "and I am really going to enjoy it." I held out a hand. "Give me the Key, and I'll make it quick!" Chillrend let off a bit of icy fog, drawing the Breton's attention for a second. He didn't seem surprised by my acquisition of his sword as a sneer formulated onto his sharp face.

"What's Karliah been filling your head with?" he chortled. "Tales of thieves with honor? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises?" Mercer jumped from the statue to a rocky path next to it. "Nocturnal doesn't care about you, the Key, or anything having to do with the Guild."

"So what?" I snapped back. "To Oblivion with Nocturnal! This is personal." I started to walk his way just so I could look the arrogant bastard in the eyes. He didn't move, apparently just as eager to see me in front of him.

"Is that so?" he sneered, dodging my sudden jab at his ribcage. "We're not so different." I froze in anger.

"I'm nothing like you, Mercer." My insistence only made the former Guildmaster laugh derisively.

"Our actions have always been the same, little thief." He again moved out of the way as I tried to cut at his throat. "Both of us lie, cheat, and steal to further our own end." I decided to take a different approach and kicked at his chest, sending him stumbling backward. The anger in his eyes increased, but he didn't make a move at me just yet. "Oh, let me guess. You think you have 'honor' or 'faith' in yourself? For the Guild?"

"Not quite, you wicked son of a bitch." I curled up my lips in a snarl. "I'm not a murderer. I may be a thief, but I don't steal lives."

Mercer clicked his tongue, unaffected by my insistence. "No, little thief. The only difference is that I understand what the Skeleton Key can do! It's an instrument of limitless wealth and ultimate power!" He let out a crazed laugh, sending a chill down my spine. "It's your choice to fall at the hands of a god!"

"You're insane!" I dug my heel into the ground and prepared to sprint. "If anyone falls, it will be you!"

Mercer lifted his blade. "Then the die is cast!" He pulled what I instantly recognized as the Key from his pocket, and I instinctively rolled out of the way. To my dismay, he'd anticipated my sidestep, and the blast hit Brynjolf and Karliah. Their bodies began to move again, but instead of rushing Mercer, they faced each other and began an unwilling battle.

Brynjolf grunted as he blocked a blow. "Fight it, Karliah!" he begged.

"I'm trying!" she cried out desperately. They were straining to escape the magic's hold, but the power of the Key under Mercer's control was too great.

I rushed Mercer when he seemed distracted by the two clashing, but his sword was instantly up to guard against Chillrend. "And you... my blade will now once again taste Nightingale blood!" A sly smirk stretched his thin wormlike lips as he disappeared, leaving me without a visible target.

"You coward!" I screamed into the air, whirling around and hoping I could find him before he could get to me. "You hear me, Mercer? Coward!" A faint shimmer to my left let me know where he was, and I lifted my sword just in time to defend against his invisible strike. While I was able to block the initial cut, his unseen blade slipped from my own and sliced into my side. Another swift swing cut to my bones, ripping a pained shriek from my raw throat.

I drew upon the outrage I felt, the fear I'd experienced in the ruins, and the utter loathing I held for Mercer. Every bit of anger in my body fed my fire as I clashed with the Breton. Once his form flickered back into visibility, he backed away and tossed his satchel to the ground, undoubtedly to increase his mobility.

I went on the attack, using every move at my disposal, everything the Companions had taught me, everything I'd ever had to learn. To my chagrin, Mercer barely seemed affected by my forcing him to dart around. He dropped and swept his leg under my feet, sending me crashing to the ground. The air was knocked out of me as I hit the hard rocks, and his wretched laugh echoed around the chamber. While I was stunned, he ripped Chillrend from my fingers and threw it far from my grasp. "Puny thief," he sneered, standing over my legs and thrusting his foot down onto my thigh. I let out a scream as the bone shattered from the blow, tears coming unconsciously to my eyes. "You have nothing left." He leaned onto my chest. "You have no friends or lovers to save you. You have no magic, no defense. You have no weapon." He cackled again, reminding me of how much I hated everything about him. "Admit it, little red Nightingale." Mercer lifted his bronze blade with an eerie smirk that almost seemed too wide for his face.

"Nothing left?" I coughed, tasting my blood on my lips. I watched as Mercer's arms reached their highest point in preparation for thrusting down into my heart, and a pang struck me as I recognized precisely what he had the day we'd met. I saw the shift in the wind. As he began his descent, I grabbed the dagger Mercer had carelessly abandoned from the ground and forced it straight into his chest. His own movement drove the thin blade through his skin, cutting muscle and bone to slice his lungs apart. "Here's your shift in the wind, Mercer." I twisted the dagger, and an agonized wheeze slipped from his throat. Blood began to pour from his mouth onto my face, and he started to mumble something so quietly I had to strain to hear.

"Y-you're..." Mercer started choking on his own blood, and I flung him to the side with the dagger sticking out of his ribs. "N-noth- ing... b-but... h-her... puppet..." With the final word, the wrathful Breton went limp, eyes glazing over into a dull stare.

At long last, Mercer Frey was dead.

The Key fell from his chilling fingers, rattling as it rolled down the rocky path. Through a pain-blurred gaze, I saw Karliah retrieve the Key. With Mercer's death, the spell binding the two had been shattered, though they were in far better condition than I was. My limbs wouldn't respond, everything within me seemingly spent.

The chamber around us began to shake violently, and both my companions fell to the floor. Pebbles and dust started falling from the ceiling, and Karliah's announcement was bursting with alarm. "The place is coming down!" I wove in and out of reality, gripping my midriff with both hands. "And the entrance is blocked!"

"Are you saying we're trapped?!" Brynjolf hollered back fearfully, moving toward Karliah. "How are we supposed to escape?!"

"I don't know!" Karliah and Bryn both frantically searched for another exit as the pebbles and dust turned to boulders and jets of water. I pulled myself to the closest level flooring, trying to catch my breath as everything around us shook. Karliah threw her head back and screamed to the heavens. Terror threaded through her voice. "Nocturnal, help us! Please, help us!" she wailed, clasping her hands together as water pooled around her feet. Nothing happened despite her plea, and the water level only increased.

I tried pulling myself up, but the leg Mercer had broken wouldn't take any weight. Gritting my teeth, I whimpered at the pain as I forced myself to stand. Although I kept most of my balance on my left leg, my broken right thigh still screamed at the movement. "I-" I stared through my blurry eyes at the two Nightingales trying to stay above water. I couldn't move anymore, and with my broken leg, I wouldn't be able to swim. "Help me," I croaked, holding myself tightly. I raised my voice despite the intense ache in my chest. "Help me!"

"Lass!" Brynjolf's answer was instant, and I watched him swim over to my location. "What's-" A deafening crash from the ceiling drowned out his voice. As Brynjolf wrapped his arms around me, countless boulders fell from above and sent huge waves over us all. I spit out the dirty water with a heavy cough, each wheeze cutting at my chest.

"Look there!" I felt Bryn's head move as he turned to the area Karliah had pointed out. "There's a tunnel!" Her words became fervently loving. "Thank you, Nocturnal." I inwardly rolled my eyes, doubting that Nocturnal had been the one to open the passage. Regardless of what had caused the ceiling to cave in, I still couldn't bring myself to swim. Brynjolf recognized this and shifted me onto his left side.

"Hold on, lass," he ordered. Although I had to clench my teeth as I released my chest, I gripped Brynjolf with all the strength I could muster, burying my face into his neck while he paddled through the still-rising water. "I've got you, lass. I've got you." My sight faded into blindness, though I couldn't find it in me to panic. I'll be okay, I thought drowsily, slowly closing my eyes. Brynjolf's got me... I'll be okay.