Ulfric could still feel clandestine cold stares on him as he sat in the furthest corner of the Bee and Barb, silently drinking a tankard of mead and waiting for... well, he didn't know who was supposed to be coming, or when for that matter. Part of him just wanted to get up and leave, head back to Windhelm where at least he wouldn't feel like a shiv would be slipped in between his ribs the minute he closed his eyes. But he couldn't. The man was tired of running- of running from his mistakes, of running from what he wanted, of running from the truth. The Jarl-turned-King wasn't returning to Windhelm until he at least got an answer to his question.

Suddenly, anyone remotely looking at him averts their gaze as someone enters the inn. Emerald orbs glance over the rim of the tankard towards the doors and land on a male Nord in somewhat familiar black leathers, a small sack in his right hand. Eyes the same shade of his own, though framed with untamed red locks, peer around the room, stopping when they land on him and a cruel smirk breaks on his face that belonged more on a Thalmor interrogator than a fellow Nord. Talos preserve us.

Silently the newcomer makes his way over to the High King and sits down unbidden. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, High King of Skyrim. I had heard of your habits of slumming with the regular people of your Hold from someone rather close to me, but this is a bit far out of your usual comfort zone," the ginger says to the blonde quietly, crossing one leather clad leg over the other as the bag gets placed in his lap.

"Some people will travel to the far reaches of Tamriel searching for what they want, especially if they crave it bad enough."

"And what could the Bear of Markarth find here that he couldn't find elsewhere, more specifically closer to home?"

"Information. Information that can only be gotten here, straight from the source, since inquiring elsewhere just led me around in circles and dead ends. It's something I should have done from the beginning, but perhaps I had to learn a few things first." Ulfric slowly sets his mead down on the table and goes to the other man point blank "Where is she?"

A bushy red eyebrow lifts just slightly. "The term she is rather vague, Lad. If it's a woman you're lookin' for, I'm sure I could point you in the direction of one that will gladly keep you company before you make your way back to Windhelm, back to the throne that you wanted so much you didn't care who you used and destroyed to get it."

The Stormcloak leader's hand twitches slightly though the verbal blow hurt more than Ulfric would dare let on- he wouldn't give this man more to use against him than he already had. "I've heard of you. She spoke of you often, the one who would never use her name- the flirt, Brynjolf." A wolfish smirk is all the blonde gets in response and he sighs, "Inkeri. Where is she?"

"The Guild Master? What more would you want with her? You already broke her heart three years ago; how much more pain do you want to inflict on her now? Do you want to rip it out and feed it to a dragon now?" Sage orbs darken to near ebony in anger as the other Nord continues, emphatically pressing a finger into the abused tabletop. "Do you have any idea how broken Keri was when she came back here after your coronation? Can you even comprehend in that mind of yours how long those words you said to her stuck with her? That she was unimportant, not worthy of your time or affections now that you had your throne, your crown, your title? Just a fling, you called her, right? No better than the whores that followed the camps around during the Civil War... It took us four months to break her of the self-imposed silence, another two months to get her to start eating and sleeping properly again, and three months after that to convince her to start taking on jobs again. It took her another half a year to open her heart again to another person, to allow it to love, to see that she was and still is worth everything to someone. I'll not stand idly by while you attempt to stroll back into her life and destroy what her family and I worked so hard to rebuild!"

"I did not come here to hurt Inkeri, gods, that's the furthest thing from my mind at this point. If that was the case I wouldn't have scoured Skyrim the past two years looking for her."

Brynjolf snorts derisively, his disbelief evident. "If she meant anything to you, you would have been pounding on the front door to Honeyside not two hours after you ended things with her and she left Windhelm. Instead, here you are a full three years later, expecting people to welcome you here with open arms and willing to give you the answers wanted. You know, I get criticized by a lot of people, being a Nord and a thief- that I'm not honorable, that I'm shaming my ancestors. But then I see people like you, and it's people like you, Ulfric Stormcloak, that makes me ashamed to be a Nord. The Khajiit merchant Ma'dran has more honor than you do. Your father must be rolling over in his grave at what you've done."

While it hurt Ulfric's pride (and his ego) at the mere idea that he was less honorable than a native of Elsweyr, inwardly the blonde knew the rather angry male was correct, especially in regards to his father. The ruler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he silently asks Talos for strength to deal with the mess he landed himself in. "I... I would like to properly apologize to her. I know it's probably three years too late for one, but Inkeri deserves at least that and gods so much more. I wouldn't even attempt to justify my actions after my coronation, after we parted ways due to my ignorance- I couldn't justify them then to myself and others, and I know I cannot do that now. Then..." Dull jades look up from the table to meet glowing emeralds "I don't know...try to convince her to give me a second chance, but I feel that won't happen- I most certainly do not deserve one, not after how I acted. Frankly, at this point I would be happy with her accepting my apology and seeing if she'd allow a possible rebuilding of at least a friendship."

The thief's eyes get distant, his mind sending him back to the time when he had a similar conversation with the woman in question...

"Lass, he's not worth wastin' precious thoughts on. The so-called High King made his bed, he can lay in it for all I care. Besides, your past with him didn't stop you from robbing the palace blind now, did it? So obviously Ulfric Bloody Stormcloak isn't as important to you as you think he is."

"It's not that, Bryn. It's the time I wasted, time I could have spent focusing on other things, other people...like you." Inkeri buries her head into Brynjolf's neck, taking comfort in the fact that the man beside her didn't judge her too harshly for dwelling on the past.

The ginger Nord brushes a few strands of flaxen hair from the side of her face and murmurs against her forehead "Do you really think it was wasted?"

The young woman doesn't respond automatically and from that hesitancy Brynjolf knew the answer "...No..."

"What is it that you want, Lass? From him, from me, from anyone?" He feels her stiffen in his arms, more from the fear of anything she says being used against her than fear of the question itself. "Keri, you know I'll never judge you Lass. What makes you think I'd leave you now after all we've been through?" The man chuckles softly, pressing his dry lips against her soft ones. "Besides, you're not only stuck with me alive, I get to follow you into the afterlife. You'll be so sick of me you'll be begging Nocturnal to send you elsewhere... Maybe even reincarnate you into a Khajiit so you really can get sent to Elsweyr."

A strangled laugh escapes the distressed female, though whether it was from the bad joke or the thought of fleeing her afterlife obligations, Brynjolf couldn't tell. "Nothing so drastic, I think. What if our Patron gets frustrated with your antics first?" As quickly as the joy broke out across her face, it left, replaced with a pensive expression."What do I want from him though? An apology. And a reason, a real one- not something that he thinks I'll believe.

"Do I still love him? I suppose some part of me does, though I'm not sure why- maybe it's just we never let go of that person we first truly love. Maybe it's the Gods and Daedra playing their games with me still; obviously they still need me for some reason or I wouldn't periodically get this feeling that something is coming." Here Inkeri huffs in exasperation, then continues "I dealt with Alduin, the Civil War is done- what more could that blasted lot want with me?"

"If I knew the answer to that, Lass, be assured I'd give it to you. Unfortunately, as you love to tell us, the Gods and Daedra play their music and we all dance willingly to the tune." Soft emeralds gaze down at brilliant sapphires and the older thief asks her "Would you give Ulfric another chance if he asked it of you?"

"Trying to get rid of me already are you?"

Brynjolf snorted at the thought. "Far from it. Just planning in advance, Lass- research if you will. I need to know if I'm going to have to fight for you, because if it comes to it, I will."

"The great Brynjolf actually preparing for an unknown- I never thought I'd see this day." Thin fingers reach up and slip through the male's long ruby strands of hair as Inkeri continues, "I can't answer that question, not until if and when Ulfric rediscovers his long lost manhood and asks me that to my face. I do know that if that day does come, he's going to have to make more than a few concessions if he even thinks of asking for a second chance... Now," she goes, looking up at him "Enough talk about my former relationship with the High King and what-ifs. At this point I'm more concerned with the here and now, and right now, I think I want your mouth to be doing other things than talking. Don't you?"

That was the last time he had been alone with Inkeri, curled up together on her bed in Honeyside, just days before she up and left to go to Nocturnal only knew where. The guild knew she was still alive- the sporadic messages over the months confirmed that, as well as what their patron said earlier today- but where she was and when she was coming back- if she was even coming back? No one knew.

Brynjolf scratches at his scruff covered cheek and, with a sigh, stands. "Hope you're up for a decent ride, Stormcloak. We don't know where the Lass is, but I've been unfortunately given the task to take you where you might be able to find out."

A/N: Sheesh, Bryn and Ulfric. Just whip em out and measure already. I can see the two of them going two out of three, no holds barred, winner gets gold, glory, and most importantly the girl.

Part of me originally wanted Ulfric to lose his shit in the middle of the Bee and Barb at the comparison to Ma'dran- nothing would be better than a good old fashion fight (ie, the fight between Thornton and Danaher at the end of The Quiet Man) and have it with the two men stumbling off into the sunset drunk, but considering it is Riften, it would be a dirty fight and chances are someone would have ended up dead. Which I don't want...yet, anyways.

Onward to our next adventure!