Misunderstandings
Brynjolf turned from the Khajiit assassin in time to be greeted with the angry glare of two very bulky Nords. One was over six and half feet tall, broad-chested, not an inch of his body didn't appear muscled. His armor had blood splatter still on it. The other Nord was still tall, maybe two inches taller than Brynjof's own 6'1''. In stark contrast to his heavily armored companion, the Nord was bare-chested, standing in nothing but his smallclothes. He was also well muscled, though his build was not as thick and impressive as the other one. Both shared the same black locks and yellow eyes as well as the same menacing glare.
And there he was, clad in his light leathers and standing over the bodies of three people wearing the robes of the temple healers with a bloody sword in his hand.
"I didn't do it?" Brynjolf said, realizing how bad the situation looked as he lowered his sword.
The smaller Nord shoved him right and up against a wall, his right fist, covered in dried blood, wrapping around his throat, with his other arm he quickly disarmed Brynjolf of his sword before pressing his shoulder against the wall. The taller Nord drew his blade which was the size of a full grown man. Brynjolf kept his breathing steady, trying to remain calm, to show them they had nothing to fear from him.
"Farkas, check for weapons," the one holding him demanded.
The large man, Farkas, sheathed his sword and proceeded to remove all the daggers and weapons Brynjolf had on his person. He only missed one, a small blade at his right ankle that he'd have no way of reaching unless the situation changed. He also removed his lockpicking tools.
"Assassin," the smaller man practically hissed, his hand tightening around Brynjolf's throat. Brynjolf instinctively went up to grab onto the hand at his throat, but the Nord slammed him against the wall hard. "Keep your hands where they are." The man loosened his grip on the redhead's neck slightly and Brynjolf dropped his hands.
"I didn't -" Brynjolf began.
"We saw you kill her," the man holding him said, referring to the Khajiit in healer robes. "You were going to Turn her. But you didn't and your Master is dead. And soon you will be too."
Before anything else could happen, a woman ran into the room. Brynjolf could just see her around the fellow who was manhandling him and he recognized the female Companion from Blackrbriar's task.
"You!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"You know him?" the man who held him growled.
"He's a mercenary, tried to take our job about two weeks ago," Njada said.
Two men then entered, a dunmer limping heavily on a nord whose arm was in a sling.
"So he claimed, anyway," Athis confirmed, removing his arm from the thin Nord and leaning against the far wall.
"Something is odd about this, Vilkas," Farkas said earnestly and Brynjolf laughed.
"You could say that again. This wasn't at all how I expected to spend my night," Brynjolf said as Vilkas glared.
"I know I could," Farkas said.
Njada sighed, annoyed.
"What's going on?" a familiar voice demanded.
"Get back kid," the thin Nord said, attempting to grab him and shoo him from the room. "This isn't the place for you."
"Let go, Torvar, I need to see if she's ok. Let go of me, let go!" he said, and kicked the man hard in the groin who began to curse.
Jared ran into the room, dodging Njada to see the thief shoved up against the wall, one very strong nord hand gripping hard onto his throat.
"Brynjolf?" he asked surprised.
He really wished he hadn't used his real name, or the name he was most commonly known as at any rate.
"Brynjolf? He said his name was Alvar," Njada said.
Jared turned to look at her before looking back at the thief once more, concern on his face.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Get him out of here," Vilkas said.
Njada made to grab him but he dodged from her grip, stumbling on the body of the dead assassin. He gasped and kept his balance as he took in the other bodies.
"What happened?" Jared asked again.
"He tried to kill her," Vilkas said, cutting off Brynjolf's air so he couldn't protest.
"No!" Jared said, grabbing at Vilkas's arm but Farkas pulled him away. "Stop it! Stop!"
"Vilkas," his brother said. "I think we should let him explain. It seems Jared knows him. At any rate he hasn't fought back, even as you choke him. If he were the assassin, don't you think he would try? Feel for a pulse."
Njada looked back and forth from the two Circle members. The situation seemed under control for the moment. She turned to see if Athis had re-injured himself. It was the fourth time he'd gotten out of bed despite strict orders to the contrary.
"Why are you still standing?" she asked. "Get to bed."
He grunted, "Do I look like a child?"
Still, his face was drawn in pain. He wouldn't see a healer until the morning and she'd like to hope that he would be relatively in the same condition they had left him in. Which reminded her.
"I will go see that the Temple sends more healers," Njada said.
"I'm sure they will be thrilled about that," Torvar said as he went back over to Athis. "Come on, blue boy, time to limp you out of here."
Athis glared, but swung his arm over the Nord anyway and the two left the room. Vilkas slowly relaxed his grip on Brynjolf's neck, his eyes never having left him. He didn't need to check his pulse. His fingers had been wrapped around his neck, had felt his heart beating, felt the heat of his skin. He was not a vampire, though that still left questions unanswered.
"Just because he isn't the vampire doesn't mean he's not the assassin. They could have left him alive to use him better," Vilkas said.
"That is not what it sounded like from what you said," Farkas said.
"He's not an assassin! He hates the Dark Brotherhood," Jared protested.
"You hate the Dark Brotherhood?" Farkas asked.
Brynjolf shrugged, "We're not on good terms."
"Someone want you dead?" Vilkas asked.
"Probably. Is that any different for you?"
Vilkas didn't deny it. Rather he turned his eyes from the man for the first time to look at Jared. "How do you know him?"
"He's a merchant in Riften. He helped look after me and my friend when Everlee – when she uh..."
"When she what?" Vilkas asked.
"Joined a band of merrymaking minstrels, you know how she -" Brynjolf began.
"Shut up, I wasn't talking to you."
"When she disappeared one night," Jared said, trying to come up with a story quickly, seeming to realize that mentioning the Thieves Guild or the Dark Brotherhood probably wasn't the best choice.
"Does she do that a lot?" Farkas asked. Vilkas glared at him and Farkas shrugged. "It just seems like she finds trouble a lot."
"That's what I said," Brynjolf said. Though sometimes it's the handsome rogue sort and sometimes it's the smelly half-naked babarian sort apparently.
"She went hunting and was delayed by bandits," Jared finished his lie. "When Everlee had been missing a whole week I wrote him. I thought he could help."
"I just got the letter earlier today, however. I was out of town and came here when I received it," Brynjolf said, finishing his story. "When I got here I noticed a scantily clad and very dead Nord in the nearby sewer and rushed inside. This one," Brynjolf said, nudging the dead Khajiit with his foot, "was about to sink her teeth into the lass when I got here so I killed her. The other two were already dead."
Vilkas nodded at Farkas who leaned down and checked the body. "Yeah, she's a vampire and she's wearing armor under the robe with some more blades."
The man finally let Brynjolf go, who rubbed his neck where it had turned red, knowing it was likely to bruise by the morning.
"Well if that is settled, I shall bid farewell -" Brynjolf began but Vilkas interrupted him.
"No, you will stay here. At least until she can sort this out," he said, looking back to Everlee briefly.
And if she doesn't make it? Part of Brynjolf wondered but he didn't say it. He hadn't traveled across half of Skyrim to see the lass die now. Instead he nodded as Farkas offered to lead him to his new (and guarded) quarters.
Author's Note: Sorry about the week-delay. Had some company come in from out of town. Thanks for reading everyone!