Hey, everyone! So, I didn't realize that if I posted early, you'd have to wait longer in between chapters :( This is my way of apologizing because this chapter is nearly a thousand words longer than the others! Yay! I thought about breaking it up, but decided to leave it as a nice surprise for you. :D
Special shoutout to Guen and "Guest" for the reviews! They honestly made my whole day :)
Enjoy!
He feels awful. Worse than he did when he brought up Iris's father the other day. She has to know how much he wants to give into his feelings. It took everything in him, and more, to pull away from her eager lips. He wanted nothing more than to keep going, tasting her lips, engulfed in her scent. He knows that Mercer is no longer the Guildmaster, and he knows that Karliah didn't kill Gallus. But that isn't the point. If they were together and went on jobs together, they'd both be distracted. Something would go wrong, and he can't afford something to happen to her. He just hopes that she knows that. But her eyes shone with hurt and rejection when he pushed her away. He only did so to keep himself from going further with her. But she must have taken it as a rejection.
He groans, rubbing his eyes right as the ground trembles, an unworldly Voice echoing throughout the mountains. Cursing under his breath, he knows it's Iris's Voice. He should go after her. Shouldn't he? Then, again, he is the reason for her anguish. Maybe he'd better leave it.
Sighing, he moves to the window, trying to find Iris. He's not an idiot. He knows she isn't actually helping Alfarinn with the horse. Gods, the ride to Markarth is going to be so uncomfortable. He could have handled that better. He was only being firm to deter himself from going with it. And now Iris thinks he was pushing her away. He needs to talk with her about it. Maybe once Calcelmo translates the journal, they can have a talk about it all. He needs her to understand that he's like her; he wants to go with it, but he has to be the voice of reason.
Iris doesn't come back until Brynjolf is already on the carriage.
"Ready?" Alfarinn asks when she strides up to the carriage.
"I just have to run inside and get my bag," she says, breathless and pointing to the inn.
"Already got it." Brynjolf lifts up her bag.
"Oh, thanks." She grins at him before climbing in.
The carriage begins to move as Iris reaches for her bag, digging around for something.
"What are you looking for?" he asks.
"Gallus's journal."
"I have it here." Brynjolf holds it up. "For some reason, I thought I'd be able to read it but…" He shakes his head.
Iris chuckles. "I'd be surprised if you could read Falmer."
"I would be, too." He laughs, handing the journal back over to her.
"How long until we get there?" Iris asks, tucking the journal in her bag.
"We should arrive just as night is falling," Alfarinn replies.
Iris nods, settling against the back of the carriage. "So, what's the plan?"
"Calcelmo will be in Understone Keep. He has a museum and research lab in the Keep, but usually hangs around in a side hallway where he conducts research." Brynjolf lowers his voice. "I highly doubt Calcelmo will translate the journal voluntarily. We will probably have to break into his lab and find something to translate it ourselves. It's going to be dangerous."
"Good. It'll make for a nice challenge," she smirks. "I was starting to run low on potions, and now, I won't have to buy any."
He chuckles. "Guess not."
He has to hand it to her; if she's feeling awkward, she isn't showing it at all.
As they continue onward, he notices Iris's eyelids drooping. She's been through a lot in the past week, and it must finally be catching up to her.
"Lass, why don't you take a short nap?" he suggests.
She shakes her head, blinking quickly. "No, I'm fine."
"As soon as we get to Markarth, we should head in to find Calcelmo. That way if we have to break in we can do so with the cover of night." He watches her, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "You can't afford to get sleepy during that."
She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip.
"I'll wake you whenever you want."
She finally nods. "Okay. Just for an hour. Wake me up in an hour, okay?"
He agrees, watching her lie down on the bench, cover up with her cloak, and close her eyes. He can pinpoint the exact moment she falls asleep, and he grins softly, watching her face slacken and breathing even out. He lies, though. He lets her sleep for more than an hour. He knows how exhausted she is, and she doesn't wake up on her own, so he figures she needs it. He also knows she won't be happy with him when she wakes up, but he doesn't care. It's for her own good.
What he doesn't count on is something he's never seen in his life waking her up instead.
They're turning onto the road to Markarth when it happens. The monstrous creature swoops down in front of the carriage, scaring the poor horse half to death. The horse whinnies, lurching to the side and taking the carriage along with it. Brynjolf feels the wheels opposite him wobble. Before he can think, he wraps his arms around Iris right as the whole carriage tumbles down the hill, flipping. She awakens with a gasp, and he keeps a tight hold on her as they're flung around like rag dolls, plummeting down the side of the hill before landing on the snowy ground, hard.
"What the fuck?" Iris bursts out.
If Brynjolf wasn't so terrified, he'd laugh at her; he's never heard her curse before.
An otherworldly roar vibrates the ground, and he watches as Iris's violet eyes widen in terror. He scrambles to his feet, holding a hand out to help her up.
"Is that what I think it is?" he asks in shock, his eyes on the creature circling the hill.
"If you think it's a dragon, then yes." Iris summons flames to her hand, unsheathing her sword and glancing at the dimming sky. "I was asleep for more than an hour, wasn't I?"
"Lass, you needed it."
"We'll talk about this later." She narrows her eyes, watching the dragon.
Brynjolf glances at the magic in her hand and sword in the other. "You're not going to fight that thing, are you?"
"It's fine, Bryn. I've done it before." She grimaces, briefly touching her side.
"What?" He shakes his head. "Iris, you're injured."
"I'm fine. Just stay low. Find cover, okay?" She surprises him by planting a kiss on his cheek before running off toward the dragon.
"Iris!" he calls after her. There's no way in Oblivion he's going to stand by and let her kill that thing all by herself. She probably told him to hang back so he wouldn't find out about her being the Dragonborn. Well, tough luck, because he already knows. So, he dashes after her.
When he finally reaches her, he finds the dragon perched on a dilapidated fortress and speaking to her.
"Dovahkiin," the dragon booms at Iris's upturned face, her sword clutched in her hand. "Alduin sent zey wah siiv hi."
Iris frowns. "Ahrk fos dreh rok laan? Druv fund rok fid funrahiik sinon do coming okmaar?" The Words sound so strange coming from Iris's lips; they don't sound like hers.
"Zu'u los nid nunal funrahiik, Dovahkiin," the dragon growls. "Ol fah ok funrah, nii los zos do dren."
Her eyebrows furrow. "Oo? Ahrk fos fund tol kos?" She almost sounds sarcastic.
The dragon opens its mouth, its teeth gleaming. "Wah krii hi."
Iris sighs. "Zu'u suz."
Brynjolf barely has time to react. All at once, the dragon soars into the air, roaring horribly and shooting flames in Iris's direction. Brynjolf leaps from his hiding place and grabs her around the waist, diving away from the fire.
"What are you doing?" she shrieks, freeing herself from his arms.
"Just saving your life. You're welcome," he scoffs, dusting himself off.
"You can't be here, Bryn." She opens her mouth to say something else, but the dragon lands in front of her. "Go back to the carriage! Help Alfarinn!" She dashes in front of the dragon and slashes its snout with her sword, whirling around.
He actually scoffs before unsheathing his dagger. Looking at the dragon before him, he can't help but feel a bit foolish.
"Bryn!" Iris ducks, dodging the dragon's strike. "Go back to the fucking carriage!"
"I can't leave you with this thing!" he yells back, successfully stabbing the dragon's thick hide.
"Yes, you can!" He's never heard her voice like this.
"Los hi nuk fah Sovngarde, Dovahkiin? Hin fahdon vis aav hi."
Brynjolf doesn't know what the dragon says, but Iris's expression slackens in horror at its words.
"No!" She runs to strike the dragon, but it sweeps its tail across the ground, sending her flying backwards before slamming into a tree with a thud.
The dragon rises up before him, taking a deep breath. Brynjolf can't do anything but watch as it begins to bear down.
But a blur of light brown hair rushes before him, an ethereal sound leaving her soft lips.
"FUS RO DAH!"
Her Voice shoves the dragon backwards, and she uses the opportunity to leap onto its long neck. Brandishing her sword, she hoists it over her head before heaving it downward into the dragon's thick neck. It shrieks, its enormous wings unfolding and bringing itself up into the air. Iris falls into a frenzy, stabbing the dragon with fervor. It lurches, trying to fly away from her fatal strikes, but she shimmies up its neck and brings her sword down into the hard bone of its skull. Brynjolf watches in horror as the dragon plummets to the ground, Iris still clinging onto its neck. The ground quivers as the gigantic beast hits the ground, sending Iris tumbling. He dashes over to her, but she pushes herself to a sitting position and shoves him away.
"No." She struggles to her feet as the dragon's corpse begins to burn before their eyes.
She stumbles, but shoves him away again when he tries to help her. The dragon's corpse crackles and burns; but then a golden light flows out of the body. Brynjolf watches in amazement as the light rushes toward Iris. She falls against a tree as the light touches her chest, seemingly flowing into her. She breathes heavily, her eyes closed, as her small figure continues to absorb the light. Brynjolf gets to his feet, slowly making his way toward her as the light diminishes.
"Iris—"
"What in Oblivion was that, Bryn?" she demands. "I told you to run! You could've been killed!"
"I couldn't let you fight it on your own!"
"Yes, you could! It almost killed you! You should've run back to the carriage like I said!"
"And let you take it on, one on one?"
"Yes!"
"And why would I do that?"
"Because, Bryn!" She grabs his collar. "This is what I do! Killing dragons is what I'm supposed to do! Because—because…" She trails off, dropping her hands.
"Because?"
She glares at him. "For Gods' sake, Bryn, don't act like you don't know! You saw what happened after I killed it. I absorbed its soul." She growls in anger when he refuses to answer. "Fine. You want me to spell it out?" She stands on her toes, getting in his face. "I am the fucking Dragonborn, okay?! That's why I could've taken it on by myself! I do this all the time! I—" She stops, taking a step back and covering her eyes. "Gods damn it!"
"Iris—"
She sinks to her knees. "I'm sorry, Bryn. I'm sorry for keeping it from you."
He kneels down, cupping her cheek and drawing her face upward. "It's alright, lass. I…I already knew."
Her violet eyes widen. "What? How?"
He shrugs slightly, grinning. "You talk in your sleep. Say words that…aren't words."
Her brow furrows. "They're still words if you can't understand them."
"I also found the Dragonborn book in your bag, with notes scribbled in the margins."
She sighs, dropping her gaze again. "Why didn't you tell me you knew?"
"I wanted you to tell me when you were ready."
She glances at him for a brief second. "I wasn't planning on ever telling you, Bryn."
"I figured as much." He frowns. "Why didn't you want me to know?"
She exhales, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I didn't want you to treat me differently."
"I wouldn't have—"
"Everyone else does."
"I'm not everyone."
She finally meets his eyes, smirking slightly. "No…you're not."
He watches her until she grows uncomfortable and bites her lip.
"Can I ask what just happened? Was that light flowing into you really the dragon's soul?" he asks.
"Yes."
He raises his eyebrows.
"I know it sounds crazy because it is crazy. I didn't want this. I didn't ask to be the Dovahkiin. I don't want to—" She sighs, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm scared, Bryn."
He draws her into his arms. "You have good reason to be. Listen, lass, I don't know if I can help with…all of that, but I'll do what I can, okay?"
"No, it's my responsibility."
"Aye, a responsibility that you never asked for."
"I don't want you to get hurt."
He sighs. "Not this again."
She pulls away, still keeping her arms around him.
"This is big, Brynjolf. Huge. Bigger than me or you, combined even. I'm letting you in on the Nightingale stuff because it's related to the Guild." Her expression grows fierce. "But you are not getting involved in this. I barely know what I'm doing, and I've almost died countless times because of it. I am not letting you get involved. If you get hurt or—or worse, I can't—" She sighs, her eyes shooting skyward to blink back tears. "Please, Bryn. You can't get mixed up in this."
He takes in her terrified expression, the stress in her eyes, and decides to nod. "Okay. But if there's anything, any little thing, that needs to be done to ease the weight on your back, I'm always here."
She nods quickly. "Okay." She drops her arms, getting to her feet. "We better make sure Alfarinn's alright."
"Aye."
As they search for the toppled carriage, Brynjolf notices her walking upright, no longer cradling her side.
"How's your wound, lass?"
She looks down at herself, almost in confusion. "Oh." She prods her side, nodding. "It's gone."
"What?"
She lifts up her armor to show him nothing but a scar marring her side. "The dragon soul must have healed it."
"Wow." He lightly brushes the scar with his fingers. "That's amazing."
She doesn't say anything.
"Isn't it?" he asks.
"I suppose."
"You suppose?"
When she doesn't answer, he gently grips her arm.
"I don't like doing it. Absorbing their souls. I hate it." She lets out a defeated sigh. "I hate that I like doing it."
"But it healed you."
"I know. I shouldn't be complaining, but…I just feel…guilty sometimes." She shakes her head, gently pulling his hand off of her. "We need to find Alfarinn. We can talk more later, okay?"
He nods.
They find the poor carriage driver scared to death but not seriously injured.
"It's okay, Alfarinn. It's dead," Iris reassures him. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. But my carriage…"
"I'll talk to the Jarl. Maybe he can pull some strings and get you a new one." Iris smiles warmly at him.
"Thank you, miss."
Alfarinn tells them that he has family in a nearby town and leaves them.
The two thieves gather up their things and head back to the road to Markarth.
Brynjolf peers over at Iris, noting the disappearance of the dark circles under her eyes. She catches his gaze and frowns.
"What?"
He shakes his head. "You look well," is all he says.
Her frown deepens as she nods ahead. "Finally. Let's find Calcelmo and get this over with."
The two thieves make their way to Understone Keep and find Calcelmo.
Iris approaches him, journal in hand, but doesn't even get the chance to say anything.
"What are you doing here?" Calcelmo asks her in a hard voice. "The excavation site is closed. I don't need any more workers or guards."
"No, I was actually looking for you," Iris tells him.
"I told you, I'm not hiring any more guards. Why do you people always bother me when I'm trying to finish my research?"
"No, I—"
Calcelmo raises his hands, shaking his head angrily. "You, idiot. Do you even know who I am? The most recognized scholar on the Dwemer in all of Tamriel, and you people keep bothering me!""
"Gods, calm down, you damned wizard!" Iris bursts out, her hands on her hips. "I came to ask you something."
"I…I'm sorry. I…I got too excited. I'm in the middle of some very…stressful work, and I shouldn't have yelled. How can I help you?"
Iris holds up the journal. "I hear you're the authority on ancient Falmer."
"Then you were well informed. I am at this very moment on the cusp of completing my magnum opus on the subject." He actually smiles. "I'm calling it 'Calcelmo's Guide to the Falmer Tongue'. It will revolutionize the way we understand those ancient beings."
Brynjolf moves closer to hear the two conversing.
"Perhaps I could view your work?" Iris questions, taking a step toward the wizard.
He scoffs. "Preposterous! That research represents years of personal toil in some of the most dangerous Dwemer ruins in Skyrim! You must be mad to think I'd allow anyone to see if before it's completed."
Iris leans closer. "You misunderstand. I'm a great admirer of your work."
"While I appreciate the sentiment, I still have to decline. Being an admirer, I'm sure you can appreciate the need to keep my research a secret."
Iris looks as surprised as Brynjolf does; her persuasion usually always prevails. Her eyebrows furrow as she glares at the wizard.
"Listen, I need that research. Grant me access or I swear you'll regret it," she growls.
But Calcelmo only laughs. "Do you realize that at a snap of my fingers I can bring the entire Markarth city guard to my defense?"
Brynjolf notices a gleam in the corner of his eye and finds the key to the Dwemer museum lying on a table. While Calcelmo is busy yelling at Iris, Brynjolf swipes it off the table and drops it into his pocket without the wizard even noticing.
"You best rethink this course of action or you may find yourself on the executioner's block," Calcelmo finishes his criticism.
Iris looks livid. "Forget it. Maybe I'll come back later."
"Very well."
Iris storms over to Brynjolf, passing him and heading to the door leading to Markarth.
"Iris." He catches her arm.
"That bastard! Gods, he's infuriating!"
"I know, but—"
"Did you hear the way he spoke to me? Like the entire world revolved around him?"
"Lass—"
"Sorry, Calcelmo, but it doesn't. If anything, it'd be me because I have to save the entire f—"
Sighing, he lightly places a finger over her lips. "Lass." He holds up the key, chuckling at her expression. "Come on."
He sees her fighting a smile as he turns toward the museum.
"It's going to be bad in there. Calcelmo's research is heavily guarded," Brynjolf warns her.
"Bryn," she smirks at him, her hand on her hip. "I've robbed places before, you know. I know what I'm doing."
"Of—of course. Sorry, lass." He grins sheepishly. "I'm being overprotective, I know. I just…losing you just made me realize how much I needed you."
Iris's lips spread into a bashful smile, but she forces herself to stomp on the hope in her heart. She won't face that kind of rejection again. "Let's go."
Poor Iris :( I'd be pretty upset if Bryn didn't reciprocate my feelings for him, too. Although, it is a little different for me since he's a fictional character in a video game... 0_0
Anyway, here's the translation for Iris's conversation with the dragon if you're curious!
"Dragonborn, Alduin sent me to find you."
"And what does he want? Why send a messenger instead of coming himself?
"I am no mere messenger, Dragonborn. As for his message, it is more of an action."
"Oh? And what would that be?"
"To kill you."
"I figured."
"Are you ready for Sovngarde, Dragonborn? Your friend can join you."
Thanks so much for reading! I'm so excited to continually get more follows and favorites after I post new chapters! It makes me really happy to know people are out there reading and enjoying my story :) So, as always, favorite, follow, and review!
