AN: From this point forward, I will be following slightly more closely to the Thieves' Guild questline. However, I have my own spin I'm hoping you will enjoy. I've read some Brynjolf/TLDB fanfics on my own and seem to see a pattern. I hope to breathe some fresh life into this storyline that other fanfics have not done before, as I have done with Roseleigha!
Sadly, there is no chance Brynjolf and TLDB get chances to be alone for long periods of time or on jobs/missions in the actual Skyrim game. That's always made me upset, especially since once you become Guild Master, Brynjolf shuns you basically. Which is why I have repeated through the Thieves Guild questline about 100 times easily (oops), and why I sent Roseleigha and Brynjolf to Volskygge.
Volskygge is also an interesting dungeon to go through and I suggest looking up the hilarious way to skip the entire thing for Volsung's mask and the Shout.
Thank you to everyone for continuing to review. I read every review with a smile on my face and a lightening feeling in my heart and body. You all make me very happy and bring joy into my otherwise meek life. Once more, from the whole of my heart, thank you for making me feel special. I'm working my hardest to make sure not to disappoint!
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 12
Brynjolf and Roseleigha returned to the cistern Loredas evening, close to midnight just as she predicted. They didn't stop as often as she thought they would need to, but the constant run-in with bandits and wolves didn't help. It wasn't that there was any threat from them, it was simply that Brynjolf overestimated himself and ended up winded on the first two days of travel.
The consistent grace he maintained while duel-wielding his ebony daggers took her breath away. It wasn't a dance. It was more magical and majestic than that. The way he maneuvered his strong frame while killing whatever he set as his target was beyond words. He may be in his late twenties or very early thirties, but he moved as if he had spent fifty years with daggers in his hands.
Admiration wasn't lost on his part, though. Brynjolf had never seen someone manage to effortlessly execute a man from horseback with a bow, and she was blind, more or less. Roseleigha had caught him staring at her in awe, but she pretended she didn't see as she herself took solid looks at his techniques.
As soon as she entered the cistern, Roseleigha was welcomed with strong arms wrapped around her body. She hardly had enough time to get her feet off the ladder and onto the floor when she was swept up into a "welcome home" hug.
"Rosie!" the man sighed with relief. "I can't believe you left without saying good-bye to me!"
She didn't bother to free herself from the embrace, instead accepting this as her punishment. "I'm sorry, Rune," she said. "I'm not used to people worrying about me."
He frowned, saddened. "I'm sorry, sis. I should've looked for you after- "
"Stop," his words were met with a finger to his lips and an endearing look from the colorless eyes. "If anyone is sorry, it's me. I could've told you I was alive, but I thought you'd be better off thinking I was dead."
A loud clearing of the throat came from above the ladder. "Hate to break up the reunion," Brynjolf started, "but I have some things to do too!"
Rune and Roseleigha moved away from the ladder and went their separate ways: Rune into the Flagon and Roseleigha waiting for Brynjolf to come down so they could check in with Mercer.
"Hmm…" the Breton hummed. "This is an awful lot from just one dusty old ruin. I should send you into more of them soon, Roseleigha."
She sighed, both in relief and aggravation. She didn't want to go back into those things for Mercer of all people.
"What happened to Goldenglow?" Brynjolf asked.
"Ah, yes," Mercer turned his attention to a small parchment paper on his desk. "Thrynn was able to get in and out, given his knowledge of bandits and mercenaries. We found this inside the safe."
Roseleigha's heart raced. She was upset someone else had taken Goldenglow, but she wasn't surprised Mercer already assigned the job to someone else. He handed Brynjolf a piece of paper. He unfolded in and read it. She read it along with him, though she didn't need to.
"What's this symbol at the top mean?" Brynjolf asked. They both looked up at Mercer in unison
"We aren't sure, but that doesn't matter for now. Maven Black-Briar wants to see Roseleigha about another job and about Volskygge."
She nodded. "Sure, but will I come out of there alive?"
Brynjolf chuckled while Mercer grunted. "She'd call the Dark Brotherhood if she was that upset with you. Considering your status in that organization, you'd be the first to know whether she's unhappy or not."
Roseleigha sensed Brynjolf tense up at the comment. She knew that Mercer knew about her being the head of the Brotherhood since Astrid died, but Brynjolf must not have been ready for his boss to know that.
She sighed and walked out the cistern, preparing for her meeting with Maven.
"Be careful, lass," Brynjolf warned her.
She laughed. "Come on, Bryn," she returned in a whisper only he could hear. "I killed a damn dragon priest before your eyes and you question if I can take on Maven?"
He smiled, happy that she was joking again.
Damn these skeevers to Oblivion, she thought to herself. Going into the underground workings of Honningbrew Meadery was terrible. Roseleigha never felt claustrophobic before, but she certainly did now. Actually, she desperately wished to return to the damp cistern. At least it was open there and she didn't have to worry about traps.
As she deposited the poison into the skeever's nest, she picked up Hamelyn's Journal: some crazy old man that lived down there that had an odd obsession with skeevers and experimentation with them. Despite her training not to feel sympathy, she couldn't help but have pity on the man. She was also a social outcast with her own oddities. Too bad the man wasn't very friendly. She might have spared him, had he tried not to light her on fire.
She sighed and emptied the last of the poison into Honningbrew's vat. The mead smelled delicious and she couldn't help but snatch some bottles as she grabbed the key and exited the boilery.
As soon as Commander Caius tipped the tankard up and let the mead touch his lips, he spat it out in anger and made a comically disgusted face. She and Mallus Maccius struggled slightly to contain their laughter. Once Sabjorn had been "escorted" to Dragonsreach Dungeon and Mallus was put in charge, Roseleigha quickly took the key to Sabjorn's dresser and obtained the letter to his no-longer-silent partner.
She was satisfied to see the familiar symbol at the top of the parchment. The Nord put it into her pack and returned to the Guild. Of course, after she grabbed the Honningbrew Decanter in the next room.
"This doesn't tell me much," Maven said as she examined the note. "The only thing that could identify Sabjorn's partner is this odd little symbol."
"I've seen it before," Roseleigha interjected. "The same symbol was involved with Goldenglow as well."
"Whoever is behind this will regret starting a war with me." A spiteful look emerged on Maven's face. "Take this information to the Thieves Guild immediately. Oh, and I suppose you earned this." She handed a large, full purse to Roseleigha. "I'm sure you'll find it more than sufficient compensation."
Roseleigha nodded and made her way out of the Bee and Barb and back into the cistern.
Like I would complain about how much a Black-Briar pays me to their face.
She returned to the Ragged Flagon's cistern and instantly felt like thousands of bricks suddenly dropped on her shoulders and back. She hadn't rested for more than a few hours since she went off to Honningbrew. She flopped herself into her chair and stared at the ceiling, ignoring the presence waiting in her bed.
"Welcome back, sis," Rune said with a smile.
"Hello, brother." Her eyes closed and refused to open.
"How'd the job go?" He sat on the edge of her bed, looking at her eagerly.
"Successful, but a bit challenging. I had no idea how insane some people get because they're rejects."
He laughed. "Not everyone is as strong as you, Rosie."
A sigh escaped her exhausted body. "I'm not strong. I'm simply smart enough to move on with my life."
She felt warm hands wrap around hers. "A lot of people can't do that."
"A lot of people also aren't Dragonborn."
The hands loosened and retreated from hers as Rune laid back onto her bed. "Fine. You win, as always."
Her chest tightened up. Why did she have to be so cruel to the man that still stayed by her like no time has passed? She failed to tell him she was alive, to tell him that she still thought about him every day, to tell him it killed her slowly to know he was mourning their family's death while she had moved on. She was treating him like her baby brother still, but now he was a man. Still soft-hearted and sweet like a snuggly stuffed toy, as always, but he had grown up.
"I'm really sorry, Rune," she finally admitted softly. "I haven't been the best sister for you."
Her eyes flew open as the body of her brother pressed into hers in a large and forgiving hug. "Be quiet, Rosie. I'm grateful that you're here, and I'm never letting you leave me again."
She nodded and returned the hug, hiding her watery eyes in the chest of her only living family.
