It isn't almost until a month later that the two thieves start to wonder if it was time to actually step foot outside of the room they temporarily called home. As much as Del or Aisling tried to come up with a reason to leave, something always seemed to distract them from that train of thought- a nuzzle here, a caress there, even a nip or two on skin made thinking about anything else other than their partner rather difficult.

"Tell me something, Del... Who made this?" Cobalt eyes peer up at the man from beneath tousled locks of fire, then down at the Amulet of Mara currently worn around her neck- the same one the Breton had worn the day he arrived. "I know this isn't one Maramal normally hands out to those seeking to get married."

Calloused fingers gently brush the strands of hair from Aisling's face, then tuck her back up against his bare chest. "I'm not surprised you noticed that. No, that particular amulet was custom made for me- with the priest's blessings, of course. The price was hefty, but well worth it." At the look of dismay on the Nord's face, Delvin just chuckles. "Before you complain about not being worth it, trust me Aisling, you are more than worth it. And I'm not even the one shouldering the burden, the Guild is."

"Excuse me?" A puzzled look crosses the younger woman's face as she asks him "You didn't take it from the Vault did you?"

"I'm not Mercer, love. I certainly have more than enough coin stashed away and even if I didn't, I wouldn't steal from the Guild for anything. What I mean is, in exchange for their services, Vex and I can no longer hand out jobs that affect his business for at least two years, along with the threat that if I hurt you, I would have more than just the Guild or the Brotherhood to worry about. So yes, the Guild is paying for it, just not in the way you originally thought."

"Well, then I know it wasn't your brother that made this... But for only two years? If I could make something that seems so delicate and yet so strong... This isn't a Gray-Mane piece, is it?"

A dry set of lips covering her own silences any further protest. "Shh. Do not worry about who made it, but know that you understood some of the message I was trying to impart with this. The piece seems like it is fragile, but can withstand great pressures- much like you, and before you start arguing against it, listen. When you came into the Guild looking for Esbern, most of us didn't think you'd make it out of the Ratway Warrens unscathed let alone alive. We were all rather surprised when you popped into the Flagon with the mage in tow just as you went down there- it was if you just ghosted your way through the Thalmor searchers. Chances are, that's what had Brynjolf wanting to get you to join the Guild."

Before Delvin could continue, there was a soft rapping on the door. "Maybe if we ignore it, whoever is on the other side will go away?" He grumbles darkly, burying his nose into the fiery locks of Aisling's hair.

"You don't know the Greybeards long enough." A soft chuckle escapes the younger woman as she plants a kiss on his chin. "They won't come in, but will either wait on the other side until someone opens the door or keep knocking incessantly. It all depends on how important the message is." As if responding to the Guild Master's comment, another knock is heard, just a little louder. "See what I mean?"

The ginger haired Nord tries to wriggle her way to freedom from the man's arms, but the Breton was having none of it. "Stay put. I'll see who it is." And send them away. Far, far away.

After unwillingly releasing Aisling and rising from the bed, Delvin looks around the now rather disorganized room, trying to find where in the name of Oblivion his pants were. "Aisling..."

"Try on top of the bookcase next to the desk," her voice floats up from the bed behind him. "If it's not there... well, I'm sure we'll find them somewhere whenever we decide to leave back for home. By the way, do you happen to know if anyone has purchased Riftweald yet?"

An eyebrow arches slightly as the male thief finds his trousers exactly where his Guild Master said they'd be. "Mercer's place? Not that I know of- last I heard it reverted back into the possession of the Black-Briars. Why?" he asks as he pulls the article of clothing, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"I'm sure there's plenty of things in that home worth selling. Besides," the rather naked Nord goes, looking at Delvin like he was a piece of meat she wanted to devour. "I wouldn't mind owning the place, mainly due to the entrance into the Ratway Vaults."

"What's wrong with Honeyside?"

"Nothing. It's just really only large enough for two people, maybe three if Iona is around." A wistful look flickers across Aisling's face, vanishing in an instant.

If that's what she wants, who am I to deny her anything, especially something like that.. I'm sure I can...convince... Maven to part with it permanently. "I'll make the inquiries on it if you want. I can't promise anything though- you know how Maven can get," he tells her as he makes his way over to the door. Briefly, the Breton considers putting a shirt on but at yet another knock, decides against it. Let the impatient idiot on the other side see just what he's interrupting. Opening the door, Delvin leans against the frame, the torches and sunlight accenting a number of scratches and bruises that were across his arms and torso. "Master Arngeir. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"The head of our order has decided that he will speak with you and the Dragonborn now."

"Oh really?" An incredulous look appears on the younger man's face as he bites out "And what if we're not ready to speak with him, hmm?"

Aisling moves next to him, clad in just the other thief's shirt. "Del... please. The sooner we meet with Paarthurnax, the sooner we can go home. We've both been away far too long." She leans over and buries her head into the side of his neck and murmurs to him "Besides, we'll have a few stops to make before we head to Riften."

"Oh is that so? And how many stops is 'a few'?"

The woman curving up against him just hums thoughtfully, not caring that the Greybeard was still waiting for a response. "Oh, at least eight. A few more if there's time."

"For you, I'll make the time," he whispers into ruby hair, then presses a kiss onto her head. Glancing over at the older man, Delvin goes "When does he want to see us?"

"As soon as possible," Arngeir goes pointedly, his tone stressing the need for haste.

Nocturnal and Talos help me with the both of them. "Enough, the both of you. Love, don't bait the man who can kill you with a word. Master Arngeir, I will bring Delvin up to the Throat of the World on my own. If I can make the first trip up there alone, surely I can do it on my... fourteenth or fifteenth climb and take someone along with me?" Before the Greybeard could say anything, Aisling continues with "Now, as you can see, Del and I can not climb the rest of the mountain dressed like this. So if you'll excuse us, we'll change and pack our things so we can leave High Hrothgar as soon as we're able. Truth be told, the sooner the better, as I am in no mood right now for yet another lecture about my chosen associates." With that, the clearly annoyed Nord shuts the door in her elder's face before he can get a word in edgewise.

"How much time do you think we have before we really need to climb more of this blasted mountain," Delvin asks, wrapping an arm around his woman's cloth covered torso.

Storm colored eyes glance over her shoulder, the irises sparkling slightly at the man's question. "Paarthurnax is rather patient, especially when it comes to me. Even if that wasn't the case, the old man owes me some favors a few times over. Why do you ask?"

"Because," the Sneak Trainer tells her as he spins the Nord and presses her up against the ornate door, "I want to make sure we make use of this room while we still have it. Starting with right here up against the door, then the bookcase. Then who knows?" And, as their two mouths came together once more, Aisling made a mental note to make sure Delvin understood that, when they returned to Riften, the Guild and business came first... eventually.

Here's hoping I don't have a body to bury once Del realizes Paarthurnax isn't like the rest of the Greybeards...

A/N: So, a thing- it's not much but... Seems my mind has a bit more for this than I intended, but I need to see if I can get it to make sense. I was going to have this be a bit longer, including the scene after ol' Del realizes just who the head of the Greybeards is, but the brain said no.

So, where I plan to bring this story from here. Next chapters will take place after Aisling and Delvin leave High Hrothgar. Seems our Dragonborn wants her future husband to see just why it's a bad idea to cross her, as well as to know everything that happened prior to her signing up with the Guild... which includes her past with the Civil War and its leader- the Jarl turned High King, Ulfric Stormcloak. How will our Breton thief handle some of this new information? Does Ulfric find out about his Stormblade's impending nuptials? Will there be cheese at the wedding? To the last one, not enough to make Uncle Sheo feel the need to crash the after party. To the others, keep reading to find out!

Also, there's another story I'm working on that's called With Friends Like These. It will be a FDB/Ulfric story (I'm sorry. It just happened that way), but they're really not going to be the main part of the story- at least, that's the current hope. I look forward to getting that up on here soon enough. As well as the other stories, Dragonborn and the Thief should be getting an update soon, First Time For Everything continues to be problematic, as does Oblivion Hath No Fury. But I'll get 'em updated, come hell or high water. As for the others... I'm trying. I really am.

Oh well. Onward and upward!