He awakens with a start and reaches for the sword he always keeps beside his bed, only to find it's not there. Quelling panic, he scrambles to grab the dagger he'd set on the bedside table before falling asleep earlier; it's nowhere to be found. His bow and arrows are leaning against the wall at the foot of the bed—gone. Finally, his hands find a pack of matches, and he lights the candle by the bed, tensed and ready for a fight. He'd locked the door before going to sleep, but he should have realized locks mean nothing in Riften. As his eyes adjust to the sudden, flickering light, he sees a familiar redhead lounging in the seat beside the door, Vilkas's dagger balanced point-down on his thumb.

"Good morning," Brynjolf purrs, a grin cutting his handsome face. Vilkas scowls, and Brynjolf tsks at him. "My associate tells me you've come to town looking for me, and this is how I'm greeted? Really, Vilkas, you should mind your manners a bit better. You're in my town now, after all."

"Give me my sword," Vilkas grunts, words slightly slurred with lingering sleep.

"I don't think so. It's safe outside with Sapphire until we finish our little chat." Brynjolf flicks the dagger into the air and catches it by the blade between his thumb and pointer finger, then leans forward in the chair. "What do you want?"

"Where's Mayenor?" Vilkas snaps, not interested in playing games. Surprised registers on Brynjolf's face.

"She's not with you?"

"You don't know where she is?" Vilkas feels despair creep into his mind. Brynjolf's surprise is replaced with a smirk.

"She left you, didn't she? I knew she would. She always does."

"Answer my question." Vilkas's voice is little more than a growl. "Do you know where she is?"

"If she's not with the Companions and she's not with us… That only leaves one option." Brynjolf's brows knit together in a ghost of worry. "She's gone back to Astrid."

"Who's Astrid?" Vilkas asks, and Brynjolf narrows his eyes, gazing at Vilkas for a long, silent moment, as though deciding whether or not to entrust him with some sort of privileged information. Apparently, he deems Vilkas worthy.

"Astrid is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood. Or, the faction of the Dark Brotherhood that operates in Skyrim. She tracked May down sometime last year, before she even came to me. After a few jobs, she decided murder wasn't for her, but… Well, you must've changed her mind somehow."

"I had nothing to do with it," Vilkas snarls. "I didn't even know she was involved with the Dark Brotherhood."

"If you hadn't guessed it, you're an idiot," Brynjolf tells him conversationally, earning himself a black look from Vilkas. Of course he'd suspected Mayenor's involvement with the Dark Brotherhood: he had decided it was the lesser of the two evils and that she was safer as an assassin than as one of their victims.

"And if May's back with the Brotherhood…" Brynjolf frowns, staring fixedly at the ground, apparently forgetting Vilkas's presence.

"What about it?" Vilkas presses after a moment, and the thief looks up to meet his eye with a wry smile.

"Do you remember the attempt on the Emperor's life last month?" He asks, and Vilkas nods, feeling dread settle into his gut like a lead weight. "That was the Dark Brotherhood. And after, the Penitus Oculatus wiped them out. Completely."

"Mayenor's not dead." He says it with such certainty that he almost believes it. "She's just… not. It's impossible."

"I hope you're right," Brynjolf sighs, frowning. He shakes his head. "I should never have left…"

"Don't flatter yourself," Vilkas scoffs. "After you left Falkreath, she stayed with the Companions for months. She couldn't have cared less about you leaving."

"Good," Brynjolf shoots back with a toothy grin. "Then it's your fault she's dead."

"She's not dead!" Vilkas roars, and Brynjolf gives him a pitying smile.

"My, you've got it bad. You actually think she cares about you. Well, let me share a little wisdom with you." He leans forward, eyes hard. "Mayenor's number one concern is Mayenor. No one else enters into her selfish little mind." He sits back in the chair, jaw clenched for a moment, before relaxing.

"But if she's alive, she's probably hurt, and she's certainly not going to be able to go to the Temple of Kynareth and tell them she was injured in the Imperial raid. I'll have to find her."

"I will find her," Vilkas argues. "I didn't leave Whiterun to have some pretty thief take over my mission."

"I don't care enough to argue with you. We'll go together. To find a thief, you need a thief; you'll never find her without my contacts." Vilkas hesitates for a long moment, looking Brynjolf over. He knows the redhead is right: if Mayenor doesn't want to be found, he's going to have one hell of a time locating her, especially considering Brynjolf is his only lead. Finally, he sighs.

"Fine. Where do we look?"

"I'm not sure, myself. But if there's anyone who knows if any of the Dark Brotherhood survived, it's Devlin." Brynjolf stands and peers down at Vilkas, who is still sitting beneath the covers. "Go back to sleep. I'll come find you when it's time to leave."

"Oh no you don't!" Vilkas jumps from the mattress and glowers at the thief. "Wherever you go, I go. I don't trust you not to leave me behind." Brynjolf grins.

"Maybe you're not as dumb as you look. Alright, gather your things. Sapphire will lead you to me when you're ready." He turns to leave, and Vilkas hesitates.

"Why are you helping me? You hate Mayenor." Brynjolf stops but doesn't turn around.

"I only hate her because I love her, Companion. Don't keep me waiting." And with that, he disappeared through the door, shutting it behind him without a sound.

Vilkas dresses quickly, mind spinning. If Brynjolf is still in love with Mayenor, as he seems to be, then Vilkas isn't sure he wants him around when they find her. On the other hand, what choice does he have? If this Devlin person is the only person who might know where Mayenor is, then he's the only person that matters at the moment. And if Vilkas has to set aside his pride and ethics and work with the King of Thieves, then so be it.

He gathers his things quickly, then steps out into the inn. He can hear people downstairs talking and laughing, but the top floor is deserted save for himself and a beautiful woman with dark, almost black, hair. She gives him a wide-eyed smile. Vilkas recognizes her as the girl from earlier; she must have been the one to tell Brynjolf someone was looking for him.

"I'm Sapphire. I'm supposed to take you to Brynjolf when you're ready. Are you ready?" Vilkas nods, and she holds out her hands: in them is his sword, bow, and dagger. "Your weapons. It's a sign of good faith from us to you; we trust you won't find need to use them on us. Now, follow me." She doesn't even give him time to answer, and he straps his weapons into place as he thuds down the stairs behind her noiseless feet.

"Where are we going?" He asks, looking around the inn as they flit through it. He wants someone to see him leave with this shady creature; if something happens, he wants her held accountable. He makes eye contact with Keerava and Talen-Jei, and they offer him solemn nods as he passes by.

"Home," Sapphire responds simply, and her feral grin reminds him of Mayenor. They have the same glint in their eyes, the same determination, and Vilkas knows not to trust it.

The walk to a set of steps leading down to the canal, and she leads him down them, past the sign for an alchemy shop—Vilkas recalls what Mayenor said about the fish biting better in Riften, and wonders if this is where she shopped—and along the water until they reach a gated door. She opens the gate and steps into the blackness of the sewers, beckoning Vilkas to follow. He hesitates, knowing he could well be going to his death. Then, he thinks of Mayenor: alone, scared, hurt. He charges into the darkness without a second thought.