Love and War

When I awoke the next morning and made my way down to the tavern, I was greeted with a messenger who shoved a note in my hand and scurried off before I could pay him. I felt my palms begin to sweat, worried that this was another morbid message from the Dark Brotherhood.

Half-Breton,

Can't see you today. Not that I wanted to. Come tomorrow. Early.

Mercer

I sighed, too relieved to feel anything else about the pushy old man. At least he left a note, I thought. I shoved the message into a pocket and headed outside, making my way to the orphanage. The building had been renovated, as had that grounds. It didn't look as depressing as it had so many times before.

Once inside Constance smiled and waved me over from a new desk just inside the entrance. A few younger kids were crowded around her and she shooed them off so I could sit beside her. She caught me up on how the Orphanage was doing and I debriefed her on meeting Lynn's prospective parents.

Constance sighed, smiling, "Oh that is wonderful. Lynn deserves a good home after everything she's been through."

"She really does. I -" I began but was interrupted as a small form threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck tightly.

"You're here!" Lynn said excitedly. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet and I laughed, waving to Constance as she dragged me outside. "You have to tell me everything. How's Jared? How were the family? How are the Companions? Are you…" She let her eyes dart and asked in a whisper, "How's the Thieves' Guild?"

I sat down with her on a bench in a little garden area. I could hear some children laughing at a distance. The atmosphere had changed so much in the months since Grelod had gone it was almost unbelievable. The memory of that night, my dagger at her throat flashed into my mind and I shook my head.

"They seemed really nice," I said. "It's a big home and there's a lot of space to run around in. It's pretty far from any city though. The Companions are doing well. Jared's going to have his Trial to become an Apprentice soon. But I've told you all this."

"Yeah but it's different hearing it," Lynn said. She moved a large bag she had on her shoulders to her front, plopping it on her lap. "Anyway, here. I got you this."

Lynn pulled out some fabric and I held it up, realizing it was a dress, more brightly colored than I was used to the ones in Skyrim being. It reminded me of the mages' guild outfits back home, often brightly colored except this dress wasn't floor length and revealed quite a bit more skin than anything they would have worn.

"It's…" I said, not sure what to say. I tilted my head, noting the little holes on the side that would reveal skin. "Incomplete?"

Lynn rolled her eyes, "It's supposed to look like that. It's for what we're doing today."

"Uh huh," I said, remembering what Brynjolf said about her romanticizing us. I flushed a little, "Why exactly do I need a dress like this?"

"Because Brynjolf said you'd help me pass out these," Lynn said, dropping a heap of pamphlets on my lap.

I draped the dress over one arm and picked one up and read the title 'The Warmth of Mara.' The first page encouraged people to go to the Temple and I leafed through the rest which was stories of Mara's greatness, and the proper ways you should live according to her teachings. I looked to Lynn.

"I didn't know you were religious," I said.

Lynn shrugged, "She's the Goddess of love - what's not to like? Besides, I told them my sister would be helping me and they gave me this for you."

"They gave that to you?" I asked doubtfully. "It doesn't look like standard Priestess garb."

Lynn bit her lip, smiling and shoved my arm. "Just go put it on before Brynjolf gets here."

"Lynn, you know Brynjolf and I are just -" I began.

"Talking about me again, lass?" Brynjolf asked as he came over to us.

"She talks about you a lot!" Lynn said.

I groaned, "I do not."

"She does!"

"You talk about him a lot," I said. "So then I end up talking about him."

"Hey! I do not," Lynn said, pouting. She looked to Brynjolf, "Make her put on the dress."

"Make her?" Brynjolf asked, looking at me with a light in his eyes and an eyebrow quirked.

"Don't even think about it," I said. I handed Lynn the dress back, "I'll help you hand out fliers but I'm not wearing this."

Lynn pouted, "Please? I paid a lot for it."

I gave her a look.

"It cost a lot," Lynn corrected.

"But did you pay for it? You know stealing is bad," Brynjolf said, amused.

Lynn beamed at him, "Oh super bad."

I sighed, "If I wear it someone will probably recognize it as stolen."

Lynn frowned then sighed, putting it back in the bag. "Fine." She handed Brynjolf the rest of the fliers. "I'm going to go… do chores. Remember to hand all of those out!"

Lynn got up and ran off and then turned back at the door of the orphanage and winked at Brynjolf who winked back. I raised an eyebrow.

"I saw that," I said, standing up, tucking the bundle under my arm. "I thought we were supposed to be spending time with Lynn today."

"It seems that she wishes us to spend time together," Brynjolf said.

Brynjolf turned to someone in the market and expertly convinced them to take what he was offering, though it seemed unlikely they had any idea what they'd accepted. I tried to hand the flier to a nord man I recognized but he threw it back at me and I sighed, uncrumpling it.

He smiled, "Issues Everlee?"

"Not everyone missed their calling as a priest," I said, watching him hand out another flier with a wink that made the girl flush.

"It's your delivery, lass," Brynjolf said. "This is goddess of love, Everlee, not obligation."

I sighed, rolling my eyes as I tried to hand another flier to a Nord woman who sniffed and walked by. Brynjolf caught her attention and in moments she was walking away with a smile and pink cheeks, flier in hand.

"Well it is an obligation," I pointed out helpfully.

Brynjolf moved mover to me, using a hand to push the fliers down and my chin up to look into his eyes.

"Love is a gift lass, not an obligation," he said, his accent thickening as he looked into my eyes.

My mouth fell open a little and shut, and unbidden my cheeks became pink. A grin spread over his face, the serious and intense look giving way as he laughed. I breathed out, pulling back and shaking my head.

"You're impossible," I said.

Brynjolf smirked, "You enjoy it." He passed out a flier. "You don't have to give your gift to them, just let them know it's there."

"Are you talking about the flier or are you insinuating I have something else I could be giving out for Mara?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I watched him.

"That's up to you, lass, don't you think?" Brynjolf asked, his voice lower.

I flushed and he laughed.

"It's going to be a long day," I said quietly to myself.

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By the afternoon we had finally distributed all of the pamphlets Lynn had given us for Mara and I had somehow managed to fight my way into the use of a horse for free. When we arrived back at the orphanage for the second time, she was gone and had left a message for us sending us to the brewery.

"Loving, fighting, and a good drink," Brynjolf said, amused as we turned onto the street. "Lynn is going to be a heartbreaker."

I shook my head in amazement. Brynjolf got the door for me and I rolled my eyes as I ducked under his arm to enter the building. The smell of alcohol was strong, but there didn't seem to be any sort of store front for the wares at the entrance Lynn had told us to go to.

"Perhaps she expects us to help ourselves?" Brynjolf whispered near my ear.

I shivered and looked about. There was a quiet moaning, the sound of someone crying and I quietly crept closer. A few feet away, between two large barrels, an Argonian woman lie on the floor, her reptilian eyes watery as she held her stomach. I bent down to be at her face level, whatever goal Lynn had for me forgotten.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "Do you need help?"

The woman whined and looked up, "It's… nothing."

"It doesn't seem like nothing, lass," Brynjolf said, voice soothing.

The Argonian looked between us for a few moments before sighing, chest collapsing. "It's the skooma. I am trying to quit but…"

The woman shuddered.

"It has a hold on me. Please, if you could just… give me a healing potion, I might be rid of it once and for all," she begged.

Without a second thought, I reached into my bag and pulled out a healing potion, a reward the priests had given us for assisting them. I bent down and handed it to her, looking into her eyes.

"What's your name," I asked.

She watched me steadily as she drank the potion. Her body shook less even before she'd finished it and she looked healthier, though I couldn't quite pinpoint as to why that was, not familiar enough with Argonians to put a specific reason as to how she looked healthier. She sighed and set the bottle down on her lap when she was done.

"Thank you," she breathed. "My name is Wujeeta, friend."

Brynjolf leaned down beside me and offered her a hand which she took and they rose together. I stood up as well.

"Can you tell me where you got this?" Brynjolf asked kindly, holding up a different empty bottle.

"I - I really shouldn't," Wujeeta said.

"Come now, you don't want this back in your life do you? I could make the problem go away?" Brynjolf said.

"Kill them?" Wujeeta said, surprised. "No, no I - no."

"Calm yourself, lass. I don't plan on killing anyone and your name won't be mentioned," Brynjolf said.

She looked over him and said, "You're Thieves' Guild aren't you?"

"I might be," Brynjolf said.

"I - I… You'll protect me? They would kill me if -" Wujeeta said.

"We'll protect you," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It's Sarthis Idren. They run out of the warehouse but only the Jarl has a key," she said.

I opened my mouth to word my own suspicions on how they could run in a place that was not easily gotten into unless it was by someone official but shut my mouth. In a weird way, the Thieves' Guild was the most honest part of Riften. I could feel my blood warm at the thought of the Jarl being part of this operation in some way - even allowing it (for a cut or some other benefit no doubt). There were too many poor and displaced people in Riften as it was, the last thing they needed was drug trade run amok in the city.

"Thank you, Wujeeta," Brynjolf said. "And good luck."

With that Brynjolf turned to leave and I followed him out.

"Only the Jarl has the key?" I whispered.

"Perhaps it's time you had a talk with her," Brynjolf said.

"Me?" I asked, surprised into a louder voice.

"I think your question would be more likely to get answers out of the Jarl than a member of the Thieves' Guild," Brynjolf said, smirking.

"I am a - "" I said and stopped. "She knows about you?"

"No but I intend to keep it that way by staying away from her notice. A request from the Dragonborn hero though, that wouldn't seem as odd as that of a simple shopkeep," Brynjolf said.

I rolled my eyes, "Fine."

xxxxxxxxxx

It turned out being a hero, even just a minor one, was enough to get the Jarl to talk to me. That and the fact that the Jarl had known about the skooma operation but had supposedly been unable to stop it because of moles in the guard that would alert the dealers before any raid. Which meant that I, an army of one, was somehow supposed to get inside and take out the operation and find the person who was shipping the skooma our way if possible.

Brynjolf was at my side as we watched the guard on the dock. I notched an arrow and fired at the boat and waited. The man seemed alarmed and walked towards it. It was sad how often such a ploy could work. I fired another, and watched him walk toward it and try to spot where it had come from, his eyes suspicious. By this point Brynjolf had already gone to the door and unlocked it and I hid my bow and arrows and followed after him, silently entering the warehouse behind him.

It was strange, working together like this, hiding in the shadows. As a Companion, I had become somewhat used to an occasional partner but where we were now skillfully keeping to the dark, we would charge in. Occasionally, especially on bigger quests, there would be strategy, a well organized attack. But stealth was never much part of it.

It was exciting to feel my heart race, knowing at any moment a guard could catch us and then we would have to flee or fight our way out. In that time Sarthis could slip away and everything would be for not. The security would be increased and another opportunity to put an end to his portion of the Skooma trade wouldn't present itself for days, maybe weeks.

It was entirely different from the Companions, and moreso from the Dark Brotherhood. Emotions got in the way on those quests, and it was even worse when I thought I might feel nothing. Killing was quick and easy when your target didn't see you coming. And each time I was forced to finish a contract, the weight of each life…

I couldn't think about that now. But what Brynjolf had said about not being the Dark Brotherhood made more sense now than it ever had. They didn't kill, didn't aim to kill. Oh, what they did was often wrong on a moral level but not in the way the Dark Brotherhood was. And, if things went well, resulted in less death than the Companions often left. Which at this moment I was grateful for. I enjoyed being a Companion and knew it was for the greater good, but I had had enough of death.

Together, Brynjolf and I used the guards to practically lead us to where their operation was. As we got closer, it was more heavily guarded and once or twice we had stopped the other in the nick of time before a guard suddenly turned around. Finally we saw the man who matched the description the Jarl had given us of him.

Unlike his fellow men who were dressed in light armor, wearing metal sparingly, their gear worn out, his was steel. It covered him from head to tow, a horned helmet of Nord make atop his head, covering everything save his eyes and mouth. He was a dunmer, his grey skin paler than most, but his red eyes stood out large and seemed to almost glow in the dim lighting.

I looked and saw Brynjolf had already moved, his blade drawn as he approached. Fear seemed to grip my throat and I removed my dagger, charging toward the man, knocking off his helmet which he had not fastened properly and bashing him on the head before he could properly build up to a shout.

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow and stood up, "We can't leave him here. The Skooma trade shouldn't be run by some thugs, lass."

"I thought we didn't kill people," I said, my chin raising slightly in challenge.

"There are exceptions," Brynjolf said. "If we try to walk him out of here, his men will kill us."

I pursed my lips and thought a moment before responding, "We could wait until he wakes and walk him out with a dagger to his throat."

"And hope none of his men wish to usurp him. Do you think this group is loyal to Sarthis?" Brynjolf asked. "Or to the coin?"

I shook my head, "Divines. I…"

I looked away from Brynjolf who stepped closer, "Something's happened to you hasn't it?"

"I'm just… tired of death," I said, even as the urge to tell him why fought to burst forth instead.

"This man dies and we save people like Wujeeta," Brynjolf said. "We can monitor the trade, lass."

I snorted, "It will still ruin lives."

"Or we could leave and let Sarthis force his trade on the people of Riften and kill them when they can't pay the price?" Brynjolf said.

"Divines," I cursed and flushed. "Just… fine."

Brynjolf stepped away and I heard nothing but when I looked the man was bleeding out on the floor. The redheaded nord handed me a small book and I saw the recordings of shipments and the name Kilyner attached to a letter and a location. All it would take was one more death and the trade would stop, at least until some communication was arranged to start it up again but with the war and the problems in Morrowind that could be some time from now and I knew that the Thieves Guild didn't deal much with skooma and moon sugar as it was.

"Let's go," I said wearily.

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