Nightingale Hall. It had been many months since the sanctuary had been stepped in by this member of Nocturnal's sworn trinity, despite promises to the contrary to return more often. It wasn't that the thief didn't want to, but between chasing down a traitor, the never ending struggle to get the Guild back on its feet and then everything with the Guild Master...

Inkeri...

Brynjolf remembered when the blonde Nord made her first appearance in Riften, a little rough around the edges, but no different than himself or the others that called the corrupted spot home. Normally he would have simply attempted to seduce her into bed with him, but a strange niggling at the back of his mind told him the young woman offered more than just a few tumbles in the furs. His conscience once again proven correct, when, to his surprise, she had lifted the same silver amethyst ring from his pocket that he just pickpocketed off of some mage from Winterhold that was browsing the 'wares' he sold in the market. That was the first time anyone got the better of him, but it wouldn't be the last she stole from the ginger, knowingly or not.

In hindsight, the Nord male should have realized something was on the horizon when Mercer sent the newest member of their ragtag family to deal with Goldenglow, but when Keri came back relatively in one piece- Relatively one piece? That infected dagger wound on her shoulder said otherwise!- he figured it was just being overprotective of his protégée. Even stranger was when the Breton Guild Master was adamant at taking her with him to Snow Veil Sanctum to deal with Karliah, Brynjolf caving in to his superior's wishes when he wouldn't bend.

Pain. That's all the ginger felt when Mercer came back alone, bloody and disheveled, saying that Karliah ambushed them, killing Inkeri and he barely making it out alive. Brynjolf wanted to head straight to Winterhold Hold and bring the Lass's body back, threat of Karliah or not, but by the time he finished everything he had to do and made it to Shor's Stone, a letter from Endon in Markarth told him that the blonde Nord was seen heading up into Understone Keep and not as dead as the rumor mill of the Guild would have her. Confusion- what was she doing there, why didn't she come home?

Everything he knew fell apart somewhat after that, things that he held as truth revealed to be nothing but smoke and mirrors. Not only was Mercer responsible for the murder of his predecessor, Gallus Desidenius, but somehow managed to steal everything the Thieves Guild had in their vault by stealing from a Daedric Prince of all people... the same one he was on his way to summon now.

As Brynjolf walks down the dimly lit passage way and into the hall, his mind wanders back to the first time he and Keri came here- his concern about the terms, her wanting revenge for the attempt on her life. It was there his fantasies came to life as he got to see exactly what her armor hid from view: pale skin with a patchwork of scars, long legs he wouldn't mind burying his face in between, and oh gods, what he wanted to do to her breasts as well as the rest of her. At this memory, the male thief groans, partially because if he had said something sooner things might have been different, partially because his pants just became tighter.

Inkeri...

Then she had to go and get herself wrapped up in that blasted Civil War between the Stormcloaks and the Empire. Of course a number of them had reasons for their Guild Master not to go- Karliah because if she fell in battle it would mean replacing another Nightingale, Sapphire because she didn't want the number of women who called the Flagon home to dwindle, Delvin because he actually liked Keri as their Guild Master (it didn't hurt that she was much more personable than her predecessor and spent time with members of the Guild), and Brynjolf...well, he should have told her the truth right then and there, instead of hiding behind the excuse of having important things to do. What an idiot I was.

Inkeri was away from Riften for about a year, letters coming addressed to him through Niranye, their fence in Windhelm, as well as a good number of questionably gotten items, gems and gold to add to the Guild's coffers. Never once did she mention the budding relationship between herself and the Jarl of Eastmarch- perhaps it was to keep from hurting him, perhaps it was that she too had no idea where it would end up. Regardless, the day after his coronation as High King had Keri coming home to her Guild, never uttering a word no matter how hard he and the others tried, barely eating enough to get by, going through the motions day after day. How scared they were, not for their future, but for hers...

And so the people of Riften joined forces, rallying around their Thane, their Guild Master, their friend. Dropping hints into the right ears across Skyrim, knowing full well that the Stormcloak would eventually realize how much he screwed up, and when word reached the dwellers of the Flagon that he was on the move to find her, they would be ready... Of course, they weren't expecting it to take so long for him to seek out her Guild in the Rift, nor were they expecting her to go to Oblivion knows where either...

"I call upon you Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow... Hear my voice!"

A few moments pass before a flash of light appears before green eyes hidden beneath a hood. A female figure forms from the hovering dark blue ball of energy, which finally speaks after looking around the chamber.

"Ah, Brynjolf, Wolf of Riften. Long has it been since you've graced this Hall. Come seeking guidance, have you? Or perhaps it is my consent for something else?"

A hint of red graces the man's cheeks, thankfully hidden between the shadows of his headgear and the crimson hair of his beard. "I come seeking guidance, my Lady. A man has come to Riften, seeking information on if the Guild knows where your Favored is. The members of the Guild are... of varying different opinions on how to deal with this situation. While it was decided that I as the Guild Master's Second would speak with him, I ask for your counsel on what exactly to tell him, if I tell him anything at all."

The Mistress of Night and Darkness says nothing for a couple of minutes, but seems like an eternity to the ginger thief. Finally, his patron goes "Do you think him worthy to know?"

"That's not for me to decide," the thief responds, wanting to run his fingers through his hair due to nerves. Honestly, no, he didn't think the Stormcloak worthy- not worthy of her, not worthy of her love nor her touch. Not after what he did to her. I refuse to lose her now that I have her. Because of his stupidity, the Guild almost lost her. It took months to get her close to her old self. Never again.

"Perhaps we should have Fate decide."

Verdant eyes look up at the Daedra, the confusion he felt evident in his gaze. "My Lady?"

"One of the items your Guild Master found when she came to return the Skeleton Key was a journal written by an adventurer by the name of Nystrom. It should be on a bookcase where she sleeps."

"You want him to walk the Path?"

"I want him to prove that he's worthy of my assistance in finding what he foolishly let go of. King or not, all luck flows from my realm. But there will be a price he will have to pay, as all men must do when dealing with us. What that price will be though, I am currently not sure," Nocturnal corrects her Nightingale quickly. "Was there anything else?"

"How is Keri?"

"She is being watched over, her task nearly complete."

Brynjolf's breath hitches at the thought of seeing her again before he could get it under control. Inwardly swearing, he quickly asks, "Will she be coming home then?"

"That...is out of my hands." The Daedra looks up at the thief who summoned her, an appraising look on her face. "Interesting... So much like Mercer, and yet... not... It seems you may have presented me with a solution I would not have considered, Brynjolf, one where everyone involved could possibly benefit from if presented properly. To show my gratitude, I shall grant you a boon- ask anything of me and if it is within my power, I shall grant it asking nothing in return. You need not tell me now, but you only get one, so remember to choose wisely." With that parting statement, the Daedric Prince vanishes.

I am absolutely nothing like Mercer. Traitorous Bastard...

I beg to differ.

The man huffs at his conscience. I at least haven't murdered my competition and placed blame on the ones closest to him, or the ones with obvious reasons for wanting him dead.

Yet. Every man has a breaking point, and thieves are no exception when it comes to the things they covet most. What will it take for you to find yours, I wonder? Or will your resolve be stronger than your more baser instincts?

The thief shakes his head, then thinks back to what his Guild's Patron said in regards to her Champion. Some information is better than none, no matter how cryptic it is- but that's what you get when dealing with the Daedric Princes. Best find this journal though so that the fun can really start. Leather booted feet barely make a sound on the stone walk as Brynjolf starts heading back to Riften, hoping that the plethora of books his Lass owned are in some sort of order that this journal will be easily found.

A/N Well. This can not bode well for Ulfric now, can it? I feel bad for him...almost. And what exactly will Brynjolf do with this gift from Nocturnal? ...Truth be told, I don't know yet myself, I had started writing this months ago and only started cleaning it up and fleshing sections out. Guess we will find out together!

Comments and Constructive Criticism is welcome, but flames will be used to keep me warm- it's cold here in America!