AN: I won't drag this note out as long as my others. I'm very tired. So very, very tired. I hope that will not become apparent in this chapter, or future chapters. If it is, please let me know so I can halt further progress in order to put out quality over quantity. Be honest with reviews, please. I appreciate harsh but true words more than kind but false. Thank you very much.
Also, I'm thinking about starting a fanfic with Arnbjorn from the Dark Brotherhood questline. If anyone is interested, I'll try having that out in a few weeks' time; I'm putting this fanfic as a priority over a one that I am unsure of what type of direction it will have. Also, I'm too tired to manage two different stories.
The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim is property of Bethesda Softworks. I own nothing but Roseleigha. Thank you for allowing my words to have the privilege of your time.
The Seer and Her Thief, Chapter 11
Brynjolf remained cooped up in Proudspire Manor for another two days. Roseleigha slept in the room in the basement with the uncomfortable bedroll, even though she preferred a wooden chair. They didn't hold a conversation until they had to pack up to leave for Riften. Even then, talk was at an absolute minimum. He wondered what miracle she had pulled on herself to heal her entire side while he was still feeling the harshness of his fever. Lass must be torturing me, he told himself often. I deserve it though, don't I?
His eyes were never able to meet hers. It really seemed like he had walked backwards to when they first met. She was cold and distant; harsh at best. It was difficult for him. They were having fun and getting to know each other. Returning to Riften felt like he was going back in time: their friendship had gone back to nonexistent.
He stayed up one night thinking of her. He tried to imagine how beautiful and innocent she may have been as a child. What color were her eyes? What did she look like when her face lit up with happiness? How did she spend her days? Perhaps Rune could answer his questions, but not now. Perhaps he could ask her himself, but based on how their last trip into her past went, he didn't want to go there again.
He shivered when he thought about the young Nord girl running around with her siblings, navigating their way through a burning house with a dragon haunting above them. Witnessing all seven of her family members die in front of her. He could easily see why she was the woman she is today. Becoming a servant to the Thane of Solitude and his terrible wife only solidified her numbness and distance. But the leader of the Dark Brotherhood?
How did she even find herself in that place? She may have an absence of empathy or any other feeling, really, but going from killing a housewife at 17 to the leader of the Dark Brotherhood was a large leap, no matter how many years passed.
Trying to fall asleep only ended in failure. All he could see was her head pushed again his chest, her body shivering from crying. He would give anything to hold her again and make her feel safe.
"We're leaving today," Roseleigha had told him the next morning over breakfast. "If we are fast enough, we should be back by Loredas evening. You're ready, right?"
He scoffed and looked at her with suspicion. "This is just more torture, isn't it?" he asked. She turned away and stayed silent. An obvious yes to him. "Look, lass, I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't think- "
"This has nothing to do with it. I don't care what you think about my past. It doesn't change who I am or what I've done." She stared at him coldly.
"Then why are you being so cold to me?" Brynjolf snapped. He was at his wits end. He had enough with her looking at him like they no longer knew each other. He cared for his protégé. He wanted her to look to him like he looked to Mercer; maybe not with as much fear, but with closeness and respect. It didn't matter if there was more. For now.
"I'm acting the same as I was before, Brynjolf." He cringed learning they were no longer on a nickname basis.
"Come on, we both know that's horse shit. You blew up in my face and haven't been the same since. If it really hasn't changed anything, then why are you behaving as if you don't know me?"
She scowled at him. He knew there was no way she could come up with a way to retort his comment, but she was too stubborn to admit defeat.
Brynjolf sighed, knowing they could go until the end of time without settling this conversation. "Alright, lass. Forget I said anything. Let's just finish packing, eh?"
She still looked at him harshly, but her eyes softened. If he didn't know better, he would've said she was beginning to see things from his point of view. It was talking to a female version of himself: cocky, confident, stubborn, and rude. Get on her good side, though, and you have a friend. He didn't even know how people handled him, though. How was he going to handle himself in the body of a cold but beautiful woman?
They walked together to the stables. Roseleigha strapped the loot to Shadowmere, while Brynjolf's horse carried supplies needed on the trip back. She insisted that they stop every few days to check on his condition, though his fever was gone for a day now and his body no longer ached. She's being a worrywart.
"Brynjolf," she said, still with distance. "I studied medicines, herbs, and restoration while my mother was alive. I'm just making sure Shadowmere and I don't need to carry you back to the Guild."
He smirked. So, she was thinking about me, eh? "I'm alright, lass," he replied. Suddenly, he remembered the pack that Rune had given him before he left for the trip. "Sorry, lass. I must've forgotten this."
He gently passed the sack of herbs to the blind woman, watching her mouth drop open slightly. The look of shock on her face was rather adorable. "Where did you…"
"Rune gave it to me before we left. I think I understand what that all means now."
She nodded and took an unsteady breath. "My siblings and I were named after plants. Da said he named us that because they loved to watch us grow and blossom." She smiled with nostalgia while he slowly mounted his horse.
"Do you think of your folks often?" he asked.
She shook her head and lead the way down the road. "I used to, but I don't see the point in it anymore. It just makes me sad. Why should I dwell on something that makes me miserable when I can move on and be happy?"
"And are you happy?"
She smiled, but he knew it was a fake. "More or less. I'm a thief and assassin. Besides Rune, I have no friends or family."
He pulled his horse in front of her, cutting her off. "Hang on. I think you're forgetting something."
"I have the Dark Brotherhood, of course."
"No, not that, lass."
"The Thieves' Guild?" She scoffed. "Please, it's just a dysfunctional gathering of misfits."
"So is the Dark Brotherhood, lass."
She pursed her lips, thinking. "I suppose you're right. But it's my dysfunctional gathering of misfits. There's a big difference between a leader who dedicates herself to the wellbeing of her family versus the dedication of a leader to wealth and power of the man in charge, that being himself."
Brynjolf furrowed his brows. "Are you talking about Mercer?"
She sighed deeply and urged Shadowmere forward. "Never mind. I suppose everything will be fine in due time."
He caught up and rode next to her, his mind in a flurry. "What do you mean, 'he dedicates the wealth and power to himself'? We're all thieves there, lass. Of course he's concerned with his wealth. Just as the wealth of the Guild."
"Just forget I said anything, Brynjolf. Do we need to stop at Dragon's Bridge or are you okay until Rorisktead?"
He looked at her angrily, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. "I'm fine. I could go until Whiterun if you weren't so pushy."
"I am not being pushy. I'm trying to keep you well enough so we can enjoy a drink instead of a lecture from Mercer."
A smiled danced across his face as he could see her cheeks pink from her sudden admission. "I must say, lass, I didn't expect that."
Her cheeks continued to become brightly colored. "What? Is there something wrong with me wanting to have a drink?"
Brynjolf snickered and looked down the road. "Not a single thing. I'll be sure to treat you once we get back."
"Shut up, Bryn."
He couldn't help but let out a toothy grin, hearing his nickname from the girl that finally let her walls down for him again; he hoped with all his heart that it stayed that way.
