Hi, everyone! Special thanks to Ktonicle and Mia78 for the reviews! Enjoy Chapter 17!


Two Weeks Later

"I don't know how much longer I can take this, Bryn," Iris whines, sinking to the floor of the training room.

"We can't risk it, and you know it, love," Bryn replies, retrieving arrows from the target.

"You'd think they'd be ecstatic about what we did, killing Mercer and all, but no. They've almost gotten worse about it! Now that there's nothing else going on in the Guild, they're focusing solely on us." Iris growls in frustration. "And now, Vex keeps giving me shitty jobs halfway across Skyrim. Why does she care so much about separating us, anyway?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, lass." He sighs, closing one eye and aiming at the target. "At least, you have things to do. I'm forced to stay down here all day and help Delvin manage the books."

"They're keeping us apart on purpose. They're trying to tear us apart."

Bryn lets the arrow fly, setting the bow down once his target is hit. He strides over to her, sitting by her side. "I know. But it won't work." He takes her hand in his.

She shrugs defeatedly. "They're sending me on a job in Windhelm. Who knows how long I'll be gone?" She sighs, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He strokes her hair, lightly kissing her forehead. "Just give it time. Maybe they'll come around."

"It's been almost two weeks since we killed Mercer. You'd think they'd be over us by now."

"Patience, love."

"I don't know how you do it."

"At least, you have jobs to busy yourself with."

She looks up at him with her beautiful violet eyes. "I'd rather busy myself with you." She smirks flirtatiously.

Chuckling, he takes her face in his hands. "Me, too, love. Me, too." Making sure no prying eyes are watching, he quickly kisses her lips before leaning back against the wall. "Karliah wanted to know when you're going to the Sepulcher to return the Key," he remembers.

"I'll stop there on the way back from the heist." She sighs. "I probably should've returned it as soon as I could, huh?"

"There's no point in us thieving if Nocturnal's angry with us."

"I'll do it on the way to the heist then." She stands. "I should probably go now. I wish you could come with me."

"I know. But Karliah said—"

"Karliah said I have to do it alone, yeah, yeah."

He chuckles as she rolls her eyes.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." She forces herself to back away from him, though she craves the feeling of his lips on hers. She grudgingly lets go of his hand and edges toward the ladder.

"Be careful in the Sepulcher, lass."

"I will." She shoves a smile onto her face. "See you soon." With a fleeting glance, she turns and climbs up the ladder before she can give into her heart and crush her lips against his.


Groaning in exhaustion, Iris trudges through the deep snow up to the city gates. She decided to go and return the Key on the way back, a little pitstop before returning to the Guild. And this job is just a simple heist, she reminds herself. It'll be easy. In and out. But she needs to warm up first. She ducks into the inn, ordering a warm meal and a bottle of mead as she strains to thaw out.

She settles into a chair, savoring the warmth by the fire, her fingers tingling as feeling returns to them. She practically inhales her food and quickly downs the mead; she didn't realize how hungry she was.

"And, now, I'd like to share a traditional Nord song with you all," the bard announces.

Iris groans inwardly when he begins to sing The Dragonborn Comes. Slapping her gold on the table, she supposes it's a sign to get started on the heist. She's out before the bard can even belt out the first note.


He doesn't like being separated from Iris. It's no secret. After almost losing her three different times, he likes to have her under his watchful gaze. He likes to know where she is and what she's doing so that if she's doing something dangerous, he can help or convince her otherwise. Who knows what she's doing right now? Brynjolf knows he's being overprotective; he doesn't need anyone to tell him, because he knows. He just doesn't care. To get his mind off things, he decides to visit the Nightingale Sanctuary, spend some time alone. He tells the others he has to run a short errand, that he's run out of ink and is going to buy some more. But he ducks out of the city as soon as he's sure he isn't being watched.

What he doesn't account for is someone already being in the Sanctuary when he arrives.

"Brynjolf," Karliah greets him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, taken aback.

"I could ask the same of you." The Dunmer peers around him. "Where's Iris?"

"On a job in Windhelm."

Karliah crosses her arms. "Has she returned the Key?"

"She's doing it on the way."

She scoffs. "It's not some passing task. Taking the Pilgrim's Path to the Sepulcher is dangerous. Many have tried, and many have failed."

"I know. I've been bothering her about it for some time now, and she's finally going to do it."

Karliah nods curtly. "Good. It needs to be done. Otherwise, the Guild will die out, and Nocturnal will be eternally angry with us."

Brynjolf crosses the chamber and settles onto a bench as Karliah joins him.

"Have you thought about what I told you in Falkreath? About you and Iris?" she prods.

He sighs, nodding. "Aye. We haven't done anything, but we haven't completely stopped. We're banned from seeing each other outside the Guild, and Vex keeps sending her on jobs far from here."

"Perhaps it's for the best, Brynjolf. Believe me when I say you do not want to feel the pain of being the cause of your true love's death."

He turns his head, meeting her eyes. "You weren't the cause. It was Mercer."

She shrugs. "All the same. If we hadn't fallen in love, Gallus would've noticed Mercer's actions were anything but friendly."

"But you didn't notice either."

"He wasn't the only one blinded by love."

"You're too hard on yourself."

She shakes her head. "If you were in my position, you'd blame yourself, too. Don't even try to deny it."

He stops, his lips parting. She's right. If Mercer had succeeded in killing Iris, he'd blame himself for getting her into the whole mess. Hell, when he thought she was dead, he did blame himself. He was the one who recruited her, so in a roundabout way, he killed her.

"See?" Karliah says.

"Aye, you're right. I guess I just don't want to have that conversation with her."

"Well, she won't, so it's up to you."

"I'm not sure that I'll be able to. You forget, I'm in love with her, too."

"I never said it'd be easy. But Gods know it's better than the alternative."

He nods slowly, anguish stirring his stomach. "I'll talk with her when she gets back from Windhelm." He can't guarantee he'll follow through with his words; he quite likes being selfish and letting himself love her.


Gasping at the blood coating her trembling hands, Iris springs to her feet, barely making it out the window before the children enter the room. She dashes straight to Honeyside, wheezing the whole way. What has she done? She can barely lock the door behind her once she falls into the house; her bloodied hands are shaking too hard. She leans against the door, her mouth open, her first cold-blooded murder replaying in her mind's eye. Her chest heaving, she brings her hands up to her eyes, studying the crimson streaks adorning her tanned skin. She has to get this blood off. She stumbles into her bookshelf as she runs down the stairs to her alchemy station, dumping water on her hands. But it doesn't work. She needs more. She whirls around, knocking potions off the shelves as she runs back upstairs and out onto her balcony. Sputtering and holding back tears, she scrubs her hands in the freezing lake water, watching the cloudy red mar the clear water. Finally, it's gone, leaving her hands pink and raw from her violent scrubbing. She collapses onto her knees, trying to catch her breath as she finally pulls her hood down, blinking against the sunlight. She stays like that for a moment, collecting herself, shoving all the pieces back. Once she's sure she's put back together, she stands up and strides straight to the stable.

She has to get back to Windhelm to deliver the news.


"Is she back yet?" Brynjolf asks Sapphire, his voice low.

"She hasn't come back here yet, but I heard that Dirge saw her leaving Riften yesterday afternoon," Sapphire tells him, lazily turning the page of Thief.

"She was here yesterday and didn't come to the Flagon?" he clarifies, his brow furrowing.

"According to Dirge."

Brynjolf gets to his feet, heading straight to Dirge himself. "You saw Iris leaving Riften yesterday?"

"Nice to see you, too," Dirge replies sarcastically. "But yeah. I'm pretty sure it was her."

Brynjolf frowns. Why would she stop by Riften only to leave the same day? "Did she look okay? Was anything wrong?"

"Listen, Brynjolf, all I saw was a brown-haired Breton ride away on a horse. That's it."

"Okay. Thanks." Brynjolf wanders back to the table, taking a long draught of mead. He hopes everything's okay with her.


Hmm...I wonder what she's been up to...

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