A/N: Goodness, thank you for the reviews! I used to submit my crummy stories here YEARS ago and had never once received a review. So, believe me me when I say that you guys were reminding me to continue. I hadn't forgotten, but I had to restart this chapter a few times before I was even vaguely happy with it. I'm sorry it's so short, but the next chapter MIGHT make up for it. Maybe... Ghhn.
"Hey, you! Get up!"
Get up...? Why in the world would you do that? With the skull-shattering pain in your head and the stiffness of your body, all you were willing to do was breath and whine, but even those were difficult.
"I said wake up!"
"I can't... My head hurts." You grumbled, eyes closed tightly. You weren't sure where you were, but the floor was hard and there was a bright light trying to penetrate your eyelids. Whoever was speaking to you jeered, the sound followed by a few short shuffles and a loud clattering.
"Damn prisoners... I should have taken the job at the inn."
You slung your arm over your head to block out the light, one eye opening gingerly. Your vision was blurred and pin-pricked, but you were able to make out the shape of a door across from you. Once your eye adjusted, you opened the other and realized that you had been locked away in a small prison cell. Your heart thumped, the sudden rush of blood making your head throb.
"No... No. What happened?" You sat up, picking off a piece of straw that was glued to your cheek by a thick paste of drool and... vomit? You cringed, crawling towards the door on your hands and knees. With shaking fingers, you felt the tray the guard had left moments ago. Through squinted eyes, you spotted the stale bread and small cup of warm water.
Your stomach growled, demanding the meager meal. You sighed and shoved the bread into your mouth, ridding the taste of bile from your tongue. The water helped to wash the bread down, but it tasted strangely of metal.
"Our great thief is finally awake!" Someone laughed. You stopped chewing the rest of your bread to look up and through the bars of your door. In another cell sat a smirking Nord, his hands behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles. He looked fairly cozy, unlike you. Your hair was a ratty mess, you smelled horribly and your brain was fuzzier than a newly born chick.
"I'm sorry...?"
"Don't you remember?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You frowned and turned your eyes to the ground.
"No..."
"I'm not surprised. The guards brought you in two nights ago. You were quite the entertainer, rambling on about how you broke into Mistveil Keep and stole the Jarl's circlet from around her head." The Nord said with a chuckle. Your lips parted as your jaw went slack.
"I... I did that?" You choked out.
"No, of course not! The guards told me that you stormed into the keep shouting about being a great thief and that you were going to rob everyone. They never gave you a chance." His lips pulled back in a snide grin.
"I wouldn't have done something as stupid as that." You snapped.
"Oh? Then why are you locked up, pretty lady? Just felt like having a snooze in your own vomit? I don't think so." The Nord shrugged and shifted, sitting on his knees.
"I'm not that thick! I don't... Augh, I don't remember anything!" You dug your fingers into your hair and buried your face into your knees. The Nord tilted his head, then sighed. He hoped, for all the teasing he had done, that it wasn't your first time being locked up. It wasn't, but the first time had been when you were little for tackling a guard. You have tried to behave in public since then.
"'Ey! Missy, you have a visitor." Called a guard. You lifted your head, wondering which of your fellow guild-mates had come to mock you. You were taking in a deep breath and readying yourself for the slur of insults, but the breath left you in a ragged gasp when Brynjolf stepped around the corner. Scrambling to your feet and gripping the bars, you felt a flick of hope returning.
"Brynjolf! I'm glad to see... you..." Your heart sunk a few inches at the stoic expression on his face. He stood in front of the cell door, his eyes boring into you.
"What were you thinking?" He growled behind his teeth, one hand taking a bar above yours.
"I'm sorry. I don't know. I don't remember anything that happened." Your voice was giving in on your thanks to the guilt. Brynjolf's eyes narrowed.
"Lass, you drank more that night than any man in the Flagon. I wasn't expecting you to remember anything, but trying to rob the Jarl?" He rubbed at his face with his free hand, his baggy eyes finding a spot in the cell to focus on.
"I don't drink that often. You kept telling me-"
"I know what I told you!"He grumbled behind his hand, "But after you stumbled into bed, babbling about one thing after another, I told you to stay put. I didn't want you getting hurt."
You knuckled your forehead, willing yourself to remember.
"I think I remember you helping me into bed. I know you were proud of me. I think, maybe, I just wanted you to stay proud of me." You laughed weakly, "C—Can't blame a girl for trying, right?"
"Oh, I can, lass. Because of your little stunt, the guards know your face. From now on, your only jobs will be outside of Riften. Am I understood?" He flicked his eyes towards you again, catching your tiny flinch.
"But I want to work with you! Not all the guards know me!" You protested. The Nord in the cell across from you let out a barking laugh.
"I'm sure the Jarl knows, too." He commented. Brynjolf looked over his shoulder and scowled at the stranger, silencing him.
"Please..." You pleaded through the bars, but the man in front of you shook his head. He gave a low sigh, the air growing thick with tension. Your heart was beating faster now, and a pit was forming in your stomach. The way Brynjolf's face fell and the tiredness in his eyes gave everything away. You knew what he was about to say, but the anticipation was nothing compared to the blow of those four words.
"I'm disappointed in you."
Your heart had already been knocked down a few pegs, but now it fell to your feet and through the floor. If there was a basement, that was where it would remain.
"Bryn..."
"I'll bail you out, lass, but don't expect a warm welcome." Nothing more was said after that. Brynjolf gave you one last look, then turned towards the nearest guard. He fished through a pouch on his hip, giving the helmeted man a small pile of gold. You felt sick watching the guard bounce the coins in his palm. Not only had you disappointed Brynjolf, but you had cost him a large chunk of gold.
With a ratting of keys and metal on stone, you were finally free. Though, you felt no relief. Your head hung low as you followed behind the burly man, feet dragging along the ground. Needless to say, you didn't expect eager embraces or claps on the back when you arrived at the Flagon.
The heat from one-too-many glares pushed you in the direction of the bar, but you resisted. Instead, you flopped heavily onto your bed and thought through your headache for ways to make it up to the one that you had frustrated most.
It wasn't going to be easy, but determination was your only strength at the moment.