The old priest attempted to make conversation with the pensive thief on their way up the Throat of the World, but Angeir wasn't able to pull anything from the man. That didn't stop him, however, from regaling his companion with stories of Aisling's time with the Greybeards. Finally he was able to coax something out of him.
"Could this have all been avoidable?"
A thoughtful hum escapes the hooded man as he thinks on the question posed to him. "Anything in the end can be avoided, but if that happens, important lessons can be missed. You've learned through first hand experience that your Guild Master is more complex than she lets on. And as for the young woman... I've had the pleasure of knowing Aisling since she first climbed these steps almost three years ago. She's dealt with dragons, war, betrayal, shouldering the burdens of facing death on her own and, with the exception of locating words of power, never asking for help..." Brown orbs peer out from underneath the hood as the Greybeard continues, "...until now. You obviously must mean something to her if you were the first person she asks help from. And I can suppose the feelings are mutual, if what your redheaded friend said still holds true."
"It does." The Breton's eyes narrow at the pensive expression now on Arngeir's face, his mind thinking to what exactly he is carrying with him this night. If you only knew how true. "You don't seem pleased with the thought."
"Pleased? Time will tell with that. Surprised? Very much so. The Last Dragonborn, blessed by Akatosh with the blood and soul of a dragon, cavorting with thieves and assassins. I wonder if her predecessors are appalled or laughing at the irony of the situation."
A gray flecked eyebrow twitches, the only sign that Delvin is a little more than annoyed at the comment. "I think they'd be rather proud at what Aisling was able to accomplish, her choice of associates notwithstanding. You or one of the members of your order might be able to kill me with a word, Master Arngeir, but don't think I will take your veiled insult of my Guild Master quietly. She's done and sacrificed more than enough, not just for us thieves, but for the whole of Skyrim. I think she's entitled to make her own decisions now, don't you?"
The strange pair continue their long trek up the snow covered steps in silence, but as High Hrothgar comes into view, the monk holds the thief back once more. "Perhaps the order erred in passing judgment on you too soon, Delvin Mallory, with our thought that tempering the dragon fire that burns within her blood would be ill-advised."
"What do you mean?"
"Ysmir, or as we sometimes refer to them as "Dragon of the North"- those who come to High Hrothgar with the blood and soul of a dragon, not those who simply descended from one or are trained to use the Voice- are very rare, women even more so as the only one known was Alessia. Therefore, we do not truly know what the influence of the dragon aspect on females. Regardless, for some reason, the Dragonborn has chosen you for support at this time, and we will not question her judgment. However... she has become family to us. Hurt her and you'll wish we only shouted you off the mountain. Do we have an understanding, thief?"
Amber eyes blink slowly, the mind trying to process what the man was told while attempting to keep the body warm at the same time. Did he just...? "We do...though I'm surprised that for those who supposedly feel that the Voice should be used strictly for the worship and glory of the gods, you're advocating using it for more violent purposes... at least, that's what I've heard from Aisling."
"Just because the Greybeards train in the use of the Voice does not mean that is our only means of defending ourselves," Arngeir goes with a mocking smile as he starts walking towards the monastery's stairs once more. "We don't just meditate up here, you know."
The older man leads Delvin up the stairs and into the monastery, the Breton thief wondering at the complete and utter silence of the place. Perhaps, when normalcy returned to their lives, he would ask Aisling more regarding the people who lived at the top of the Seven Thousand Steps. Brown eyes narrow as he realizes that Arngeir is leading him further and further away from the main area of the building. "You have her this isolated?" he asks as the two stop in front of a rather ornate, if heavy, door.
"Originally no, but we were told by the head of our order to place her in here." The Greybeard reaches into a pocket and pulls a key from his robes. As he hands the item over, Arngeir goes "When all is said and done, thief, I'm sure Paarthunax will wish to speak with you, so do not expect to leave so soon."
"I'm not leaving here until Aisling is well enough to travel with me. I'll not leave her, even if she tells me to." Delvin watches as the wizened man turns and walks back the way they came, then, after taking a deep breath, slips the key into the lock and turns it. Another pause, then he opens the door, steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.
As the thief puts the lock back into place, a voice goes "It's...not safe for anyone to be in here. Get out." Before Mallory could respond though, he hears a soft sniffing then a quiet "Del? What...what are you doing here? How?"
"Your Master Arngeir came to Riften to bring me here, said something about you asking for me," he tells Aisling as he turns from the door and moves further into the room, his topaz eyes looking to see where she is. "And I did tell you, I'd do anything you'd ask of me Aisling...within reason, of course."
"Except leave, no doubt. Which you should- leave I mean. It's not safe, especially for you."
"Precisely. I won't leave, and no amount of threats will change my mind."
"Bullheaded Breton." His gaze falls on her form, which was curled up on a fur blanket in front of the roaring fireplace and clad in her usual breast band and linen pants. She sighs in resignation "Chances are Paarthunax ordered him to get you- Arngeir has not hidden his rather extreme dislike in my chosen profession or in regards to my choice of associates. I apologize that he made you come all the way up into this frozen place for nothing, Delvin."
"It doesn't seem like nothing to me, " the trainer goes, moving to lay down next to her. Brushing some strands of hair out of her face, he asks quietly "What is wrong?"
"Nothing. Everything. If it's not the Daedra playing their games with me, it's the bloody Nine that do it. Akatosh must be laughing at me by this point, giving me this aspect of a dragon was not what I was wanting." She starts as Delvin pulls her against him, his arms wrapping around her nearly bare back without a care in the world. "I need you to..." the auburn haired thief starts to say and then she inhales.
"You need me to what, Aisling?" Calloused fingers drift softly over trembling pale skin as the older man tries to coax an answer from her. "All you have to do is ask."
The answer comes by way of her left hand cupping the side of Delvin's face, followed by the right clutching onto the black leather of his chest piece. "I need you to shut up and put that mouth to better use."
Rolling the woman underneath him, the broader man puts his arms on either side of Aisling's head and looks down at her. "I won't end up coming to naked and in a snow drift this time, will I?" Before she can respond, Delvin presses her bare shoulders flush to the blanket and slams his mouth against hers- not that he was expecting an answer, that is.
He feels her fingers traveling across the pocket lined leather that covered his chest, deftly tugging the various buckles undone. "Three weeks, Aisling," the Breton thief murmurs into her ear as he breathes in the the blend of snowberries and nightshade, oddly stronger this time though the man wasn't complaining. "Three weeks you were gone. Three weeks and no word as to where you were or if you were even alive. I don't know if I should be angry at what you did, or relieved that it's not just in my dreams that I'm holding you again."
"Del..."
"No. You don't get to talk. Not now. You had your chance before you left as you did. Now you listen."
An audible click is heard as Aisling's mouth snaps shut. For as long as she's known the Guild's Sneak Trainer, never once had Delvin spoken to her as harshly as he did now. But while normally she wouldn't bat an eye at it, in her current condition on the other hand...
"I told you before you went off gallivanting to do Gods only know what Ulfric needed you of all people to do that you need to open your mouth when something isn't right. Running away from the problem isn't going to solve the issue. What do I have to do to make it sink in for you, Aisling? I...I can't keep worrying that the next time you vanish it will be for good- it's just too much to handle." His hand grabs at her chin and forces the younger woman's attention back, molten gold eyes staring directly into her caesious ones. "I don't care if the jobs you take bring you to the far reaches of Tamriel, or to just up to Shor's Stone- I'm going with you."
"I don't need a babysitter Delvin," the redhead goes petulantly. "Besides, you haven't left the Guild to go on a job in how long? I would be greatly surprised if you even knew how to get to Morthal, let alone Shor's Stone. When was the last time you broke into someone's house or picked a mark's pocket?"
A toothy grin breaks out on the face of the man above her. "It has been awhile, I will admit, but I think I managed this well enough, don't you think?"
So distracted was Aisling by the dark, lust laden voice of the Breton that she didn't process his words for a few minutes. Finally the woman asks "What?" Then she feels it- a warm yet hardened palm laying against her thigh...underneath the linen of her pants. How in the name of Nocturnal- Was I that oblivious to what he was doing? The fingers tap at her hot flesh then move forward, causing her to wriggle under the torment as the digits slip in between her legs. "Del..."
"Promise me Aisling," he growls lowly into the Nord's ear, hearing her beg underneath him as he tried to coax what he wanted from her. Delvin nips at the earlobe, causing the younger thief to arch up into his armor. "Say it, or is there something else you're questioning? Perhaps you doubt me- or my intentions?"
"When the only person I've even heard of you opening pursuing is Vex... well, you can see why I'd question anything you claim to feel towards me-"
"The pockets of my armor."
"What of them?"
"Open them," the older thief goes simply. "You wanted the chest piece off, so why not see for yourself how I really feel at the same time. If my words aren't enough..."
Auburn colored eyebrows furrow at the odd request- while some members of the Guild were more open than others with their personal affairs, others preferred to keep their private lives just that- Delvin being one of them. It was one of the reasons Aisling had felt comfortable leaving him with a key to Honeyside- she knew he'd respect her privacy just as she did his. "Are... are you sure?"
He reaches up with his free hand and cups the Nord's cheek gently. "Ask me that after."
"Alright." Shaking fingers, ones that were normally sure of themselves when it came to picking locks or lifting items from pockets and homes, start moving downwards from the Breton's collar, slowly releasing the buckles that held either the chest piece or pockets closed. From each holding spot the Nord pulls the same item and carefully set beside her- the glow from the fireplace making the gold and turquoise sparkle slightly. After placing the last amulet on top of the pile, Aisling honestly didn't know what to say.
Before her brain decides on something coherent, Delvin beat her to it, pulling his other hand free and sliding the armor off his back. "You missed one." Seeing confusion appear in the woman's sapphire orbs, he removes the black tunic he wore under his chest piece, revealing the piece hanging around his neck. He watches her face, taking note of the small changes- a hint of color gracing his Guild Master's face, her eyes widening just a touch. "Gods, say something Aisling," the Trainer whispers when all he gets from her is silence.
Her gaze moves from the piece of jewelry to peer at Delvin's face, the worry he was feeling evident across his features. The woman swallows, trying to swallow her own nervousness as she goes "An Amulet of Mara? You're not married? Surprising."
A ghost of a smile appears on Mallory's face in relief at Aisling's words. "Interested in me, are you?" he asks the thief beneath him, brushing a rogue piece of auburn hair behind her ear.
"I do believe I am," she tells him, finally meeting his molten gold stare with her own icy one. A moment of doubt causes Aisling to look away towards the fire as she wonders aloud "Are...are you interested in me?"
A calloused hand lightly takes a hold of her chin and moves it so that she's looking at the Breton once again. "Some part of me has always wanted you, Aisling, I just never knew how much... It just took nearly losing you the first time to realize how I truly felt and the second time to realize that I couldn't spend the rest of my life without you... I'll follow you all over Tamriel and into the depths of Oblivion itself if you'll have me- even into the afterlife in the Evergloam if Nocturnal allows it... or doesn't, for." that matter."
"I don't think I mind that at all Del." She reaches up, running her fingers over Delvin's gray flecked brows. And as their lips met once more, for the first time in a long while, everything was right in their world.
A/N: I am so sorry about the lack of updates! Real Life was just like NOPE, plus I had a rather bad case of writer's block, which I'm attempting to still get over. And I'm in the process of getting the parts needed to build a better PC...well, anything is better than what I'm working on. The damned thing is ready for retirement.
As of right now, I'm thinking this might have... two or three more chapters in it. Maybe. There could be a sequel, depending on where the spin off for this goes (if and when I can get it off the ground, I'm having a hard time of figuring where I want it to go). Time will tell. I did enjoy writing this, enjoyed writing Delvin too. So I'm hoping I get another idea for our favorite baldheaded Breton. My other works aren't being ignored, my muses are just not being forthcoming with inspiration- I need to bribe them more.
Thanks for reading!