Chapter Three: Confidence

"Don't be scared, lass. He isn't going to bite you."

"I'm not scared."

"Could have fooled me."

Brynjolf looked back to the tiny woman following behind him with her eyes darting in every direction as they walked through the backroom of the Flagon toward the cistern. As they entered the main room, he heard her footsteps stop and turned his head to what was the matter. Gently biting her bottom lip, she stood with a strange, uncertain expression on her face.

"Something the matter?"

"You all live down here – together?"

"What? You never had to share a room with your siblings growing up?"

"No, I had very wealthy parents. In fact, I'm related to the emperor on my mother's side, you see. Even all our servants had their own rooms. Our cat did too."

Had that been said by anyone other than her, Brynjolf would have chuckled and told them to stop playing smart, but he was thrown off by her completely deadpan voice as she warily glanced around the room. Of course, he knew it wasn't true, but she sounded so convincing without putting any effort into it, like lying was second nature to her. After a couple seconds of silence on his part, her eyes fell back on him, and she pursed her lips bewildered.

"That was a lie."

"I know," he replied. "It's just–"

"What?"

"Nothing. Are our living conditions going to be a problem for you, princess?"

"No. It actually sounds rather nice." Her tone was surprisingly sincere.

"Well, good. Let's get going then. You need to meet Mercer."

Turning around, he spotted Mercer at his desk and headed toward the guild master with the new recruit obediently following him. Noticing their approach, Mercer looked up and frowned.

"Is this the one?"

"Aye. This is–"

He was interrupted by her near automatic reply. "Reinette."

"That's not her name."

"You don't know that."

"Look, lass. This isn't someone you want to pl–"

With an irritated grimace, Mercer simply held his hand up, and they both quit speaking. Taking a deep inhale, he stood up and crossed his arms as he slowly circled around the girl examining her like she was a horse that he was considering purchasing. As he did, she followed him with her eyes, and her frame went rigid. Her hands kept anxiously fidgeting at her sides. Once he came full circle, the corners of his mouth twitched upward for only a second before he shrugged his shoulders seemingly unimpressed and turned his attention over to Brynjolf.

"She better not be another waste of our resources."

"She won't be, I swear."

"We'll see." He faced the girl. "Let's make something clear. Play by the rules, and you'll walk away rich. Break them, and you lose your share. No exceptions, no discussion, no bitching. You'll do as we say when we say. Do I make myself clear?"

He had nearly barked the question at her, and she nodded fervently. Uncrossing his arms, Mercer's tension relaxed a bit. Though the girl might not have realized it, the meeting was going rather well. Brynjolf had been around long enough to be able to tell Mercer's real irritation from his standard gruffness, and despite the fact he'd never admit it, Mercer was a lot more satisfied with her than he had been with a recruit since Niruin had essentially paid his way into the guild. Of course, the Breton girl would never surpass Vex in making a great first impression with Mercer. After Vex had joined, he had pulled Brynjolf aside and practically gushed about how she reminded him of how he had been on his first day and that the girl would go far. Nonetheless, Mercer was pleased, and that was a good sign for both the recruit and Brynjolf.

"Good. Then I say it's time we put your expertise to the test."

Frowning in confusion, Brynjolf crossed his arms. As far as he knew, they didn't have any big jobs lined up, and Mercer had to mean something big otherwise he would have just welcomed her into the guild and directed her to Delvin or –

"Wait a moment. You're not suggesting we send her to Goldenglow. Even our little Vex couldn't get in."

"You said she was good. Let her prove it."

Though unconvinced, Brynjolf held his tongue. He knew the recruit was good, but if Vex couldn't do a job, then nobody stood a chance, especially someone who had just joined today. Still, the girl listened carefully as Mercer began vaguely explaining what the Goldenglow job was and then told her to ask Brynjolf for more details. Without so much as another word, he started to head back for his desk.

"Mercer, aren't you forgetting something?" Brynjolf asked.

The guild master stopped and frowned, clearly trying to recall what he could have forgotten. His eyes lit up slightly in remembrance, and he grumbled a bit before turning back around to face the girl.

"Right. Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be more of an asset than a hindrance, you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild."

With that, Mercer walked back off to his desk, and Brynjolf smiled over at the girl.

"Well, that went better than expected. Come, I'll give you the grand tour." Leading her toward the training room, he began pointing out things of interest. "That was Mercer. He's in charge of the operation. If you ever need to find him, he'll probably be scowling at his desk. Over there's the alchemy lab. You any good at potions?"

"Not particularly."

"That's fine. No one else here is either. If you ever need one, your best bet is Delvin. He's the bald man you saw in the Flagon. I'd keep an eye on him if I were you. He means well, but he's a sneaky, little bastard and doesn't always understand what is and isn't appropriate behavior."

As they entered the training room, Brynjolf stopped and let her get acquainted with it. Inside, Vipir the Fleet was shooting arrows at a hay target. Stopping for a minute, he curiously looked over at the girl and returned to his archery.

"So Mercer let her in?" he asked as he pulled out another arrow

"Aye, he did. Lass, this is Vipir the Fleet. You ever need help with picking pockets Vipir will be more than happy to teach you. Isn't that right, lad?"

"I suppose," he grumbled.

"Don't mind him. He's a tad sore with me right now."

"You'll be sore with him too when he and Vex keep you up all night."

Putting down his bow, Vipir glared over at Brynjolf and crossed his arms. The red-haired thief narrowed his eyes at him. It hadn't taken long for that to become a rumor. If he knew how things worked in these parts and he did, the entire guild would be gossiping about Vex and him spending the night together by morning unless he did some serious damage control. Otherwise Vex would get it in her head that he had started the rumor. If that happened, then she'd most likely punch him, and to be completely honest, his jaw was still a bit sore from the last time she had. He looked down at the recruit. Clearly uncomfortable, judging by the slight blush on her cheeks, she had turned her gaze away from the others and was eying a chest in the corner as if it were the most interesting sight in the world.

"It's not what it sounds like," he said.

Shaking her head, she waved her hand as if she were batting away a fly. "I don't want to know."

With an insincere laugh, Vipir put away his bow and began walking toward the hall. "I don't know, Bryn. Judging by her lack of clothing, I'd say it was exactly like it sounds."

"Don't you have a job in Whiterun to do?"

Stopping right in front of the girl, he reached down and held her hand like a perfect gentleman. The recruit's blush reddened even further, and she stared at their hands with her mouth clenched shut. Vipir shot Brynjolf a smug smirk before addressing the recruit with a smooth tone.

"If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. It'd be my honor to teach you everything I know."

Blinking a couple times, she slowly nodded her head as if in a trance. Brynjolf crossed his arms and glowered at the other Nord. With a chuckle, Vipir let go of the girl's hand and headed out of the training room without so much as a wave farewell. As she regained her composure, the recruit scratched the back of her neck and looked up at the ceiling.

"Well, he was – pleasant."

"He's an idiot."

"Are you always at each other's throats?"

"Not always."

Pausing, Brynjolf smirked and leaned against the wall. That wasn't true at all. If it wasn't Delvin and Tonilia or Vex and him fighting, then someone would be squabbling with someone over some asinine problem. Even if it weren't for the financial troubles, Brynjolf still wouldn't blame Mercer for being so cross all the time. The guild master had to sort out petty fights and childish bickering so much that Brynjolf had taken it upon himself to start playing the mother of this dysfunctional, little family, always trying to smooth things over before Father Mercer lost his temper.

Brynjolf looked down at the tiny Breton, whose eyes, despite the hollowed out circles beneath them from too many sleepless nights, stared wildly up back at him. Her lips were shut tight as always, as if she feared opening them in the slightest would lead to her spilling out all her secrets. There was no denying she was a strange one, the kind of person to be ostracized from normal society, but between Vipir's rowdiness, Sapphire's iciness, Cynric's snide sarcasm, and Vex's headstrong hostility, none of the guild could be classified as normal. Brynjolf knew that in due time, the recruit would come to fit in just fine with his little ragtag team of ne'er-do-wells.

"Don't worry, lass. It's like Mercer said. You play by the rules and don't do anything stupid, and you'll do well down here. We're a family. We don't always like each other, but we have each other's backs."

The muscles of her mouth relaxed a bit, and for a second, he could have sworn it was a smile.

. . .

She found herself caught in that state between asleep and awake where everything seemed blurry and liquid. If she just rolled over and shut her eyes again, she could slip right back into her slumber without issue. It took her a bit to remember where she was. With how much she wandered combined with how little she slept these days, this was a fairly common occurrence. The walls were stony and grey, and there were voices in the distance. The faint outline of someone walking by caused the tiny Breton to jolt awake. Her frantic movement must have taken the figure by surprise because it jumped a bit and stopped in front of her bed. A rather perplexed Nord man came into focus.

"Who are you?"

Not answering his question immediately, she looked him over and looked around. The dark, circular room was full of people she only partially recognized. That was when she recognized where she was. After she had returned with the money, Brynjolf had welcomed her into the guild and taken her to a backroom to meet a rather tired looking man named Mercer, who was actually in charge of the organization. This giant cistern was their official headquarters and living space. After she'd gotten done talking with the guild master about something, Brynjolf had given her a short tour of the place and shown her where her bed was. After that, she pretty much immediately went to sleep.

She looked back up at the unfamiliar man. "I'm new."

"So Brynjolf's found another stray?" He chuckled and stuck his hand out to her. "It's okay. I was one of his strays, too. Name's Rune."

Suspiciously eying his hand, she quickly scanned the room. There were plenty of witnesses, and his smile seemed genuine enough. Hopefully, that meant he wouldn't to try anything. Reaching out, she half-heartedly shook it.

"Therese."

"Pretty." He paused. "You seem a little startled. Is something wrong?"

"No, no. I'm pretty much always like this," she answered, absentmindedly.

She didn't mean to be so distracted, but she had a terrible feeling she was forgetting something important. Brynjolf would remember probably what it was. Her eyes searched the room for him, but he didn't seem to be in there. Mercer was standing over a desk on the far side of the room, and she remembered it had something to do with the guild master. He'd given her an important task. Then everything came rushing back, and she jerked her attention back to the man.

"What time is it?"

"Just before sunset. Why?"

Last night, Mercer had given her another job to do. It had something to do with a place called Goldenglow. Someone had cut someone out of a deal, and it was her job to set them straight. Brynjolf had said he'd explain the details in the morning, but she had somehow managed to sleep through the day. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too angry about it, and this mistake wouldn't result in a quick boot from the guild. Just from the one conversation, she didn't get the impression Mercer was all too thrilled that she was there. Quickly getting out of bed, she found her boots on the floor next to the bed. As she grabbed them, Rune looked at her curiously.

"I have to go," she said, hopping around as she put on her shoes. "It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."

Weaving past him, she headed for the Flagon. Hopefully, Brynjolf would be there and she wouldn't have to go all the way up to the marketplace to find him. She wasn't even sure they were allowed to be seen speaking to each other in public or if they weren't all that secretive. As she entered, she spotted the Nord eating dinner across from the blonde woman who seemed to share Mercer's distaste for her. Upon seeing her, Brynjolf smirked and motioned for her to sit down. Obediently taking the empty chair, she bit her lip and emotionally readied herself to be reprimanded for her mistake. He slowly finished chewing his food and swallowed.

"Look who's finally awake. I thought I was going to have to go in there and drag you to Goldenglow."

Surprisingly, his tone was that of friendly teasing. She hadn't been expecting him to be so relaxed about all this. To be honest, she still didn't trust the man as far as she could throw him. He had been friendly enough when he wasn't extorting her for favors or playing the big, bad thief. Still, all her experience had taught her never to trust a confidence man. No matter how much they genuinely liked a person, they would still sell them down the river before they would lose an opportunity to make some coin. Con artists simply had no sense of honor, and as agreeable as he seemed, this Brynjolf was nothing if not a con artist. Even his kinder words always sounded so smooth and calculated. There had been moments when she thought his guard might have been down, but she couldn't trust that even that wasn't a front, a clever ploy to gain her trust by looking vulnerable. Still, aside from their first meeting, he had shown no reason for her to be outwardly hostile to him, but she was a fool if she even thought about trusting him.

With his hand, he motioned over to the other woman. "This is Vex. Best damn infiltrator I've ever met."

Vex didn't so much as bother looking over at her. Brynjolf was either oblivious to the hostility or was ignoring it as he continued on to explain the job. During which, he made a rather terrible pun that had caused Vex to roll her eyes and threaten him bodily harm if he ever made a joke like that again. That aside, the estate was a bee farm, and she was to burn down three of the hives and clear out the safe inside. It sounded a simple enough job so long as she didn't alert the mercenaries that were patrolling the estate. Once Brynjolf finished his meal, he stood up and gestured with his hands in a dramatic manner.

"Well, I got important matters to attend to. See Tonilia about your armor I mentioned last night. You have any more questions, Vex here can fill you in about what to expect there." Brynjolf turned his attention to the blonde woman. "Play nice."

Smiling, he walked off back toward the cistern, leaving the two women alone together and the Breton suddenly very anxious. After a moment of silence, Vex puckered her lips to the side and pushed her plate away from her before glowering in the girl's direction.

"I'm going to make two things clear before I tell you anything about the job. One, Brynjolf wasn't exaggerating. I'm the best infiltrator this shit excuse for a guild's got. So if you got any smart ideas about replacing me in that airy, little head of yours, you can just forget about it. Two, you do a job for me, and you'll either do exactly as I say or you bet your bony ass, I'll make you wish you never wandered down into this rathole. Got it?"

The girl nodded. Leaning back in her chair suddenly relaxed, Vex flashed her a cocky smirk.

"Good, then we'll have no problems. So I bet Brynjolf's glossed over this 'little problem' we've been having, hasn't he?"

"He mentioned a bit of a rough patch."

"Hah, try nearly ten years of barely scraping by, and even before that, it wasn't doing well. I won't sugar-coat it for you. We're in bad. Old Delvin's convinced we've been cursed, but I think he's crazy. Of course, Bryn wants to pretend it's all a matter of time before our luck turns around, but you know what I think? I think we need to get off our asses and start getting things done, make them fear us again, luck be damned. Plus, making a little coin on the side doesn't hurt, does it?"

With a small sigh, the woman leaned forward and examined the girl carefully. That half-genuine smirk on her lips coupled with the coldness of her eyes made the recruit have to refrain from squirming in her seat.

"Brynjolf wasn't exaggerating when he said you were a strange kid, was he?"

"No, whatever he said was probably pretty accurate."

She made this noise that sounded half like a chuckle, half like a scoff. "Whatever. You wanted to know about Goldenglow. Be careful of the guards. They're a particularly nasty sort. When I tried getting in, the bastards got me pretty good. Came stumbling back to the guild nearly bleeding out. You'd think with three Bretons and an elf, someone in this sewer would know a decent healing spell, but no, they proved to be useless s'wits yet again – I'm getting off track. Anyway, the island's pretty hard to get on to, but there's an unguarded sewer tunnel that dumps into the lake on the northwest side. It leads right into the estate. It should still be unguarded. I seriously doubt the fetchers realized it was how I got in."

With that, she stood up to leave, but her eyes stayed on the girl.

"That's all you really need to know. If you come back alive, I've got some jobs for you if you need to make a little extra coin, but other than that, I got nothing else to tell you." She paused and looked down at her mostly untouched plate. "And you can have the rest of that. Get some meat on your bones."

As Vex walked off to talk to the bald man – Delvin, Brynjolf had said his name was – who was sitting a few tables down, the Breton looked over Vex's food and found an unbitten loaf of bread. She stuck it in her pocket planning to eat it on the trip over to Goldenglow. Leaving the table, she headed over to a Redguard woman she assumed was Tonilia, seeing as the only other two women she had seen in the place were named Sapphire and Vex. The woman rather indifferently explained that she served as the guild's fence and handed the recruit the armor she had been promised. Once she had it, she headed back to the cistern to change into her new armor and pack her things for the job. She figured she didn't need much. Her bow, her dagger, and some arrows and lockpicks sounded like they'd be enough.

By the time she climbed up the ladder and exited through a little trap door into the cemetery behind the Temple of Mara, the winter winds were blowing through the city, colder than they had been the other night. There was also a soft layer of snow covering the ground, only about an inch thick. She remembered the first time she'd seen snow. On a hike up the Jerall Mountains in late autumn, she had noticed the icy sludge on the ground, and it had taken her a minute to identify it as snow. Her companion had patiently waited as she excitedly hopped around in the frosty slush before reminding her that they had somewhere to be. However, since she'd been in Skyrim, she considered it a blessing if she could get through a day without having to deal with snow, and she was suddenly grateful that she was in the one city in the whole country that wasn't in a constant state of blizzards nearly twelve months a year.

As she lightly stepped through the grounds of the cemetery, she couldn't help but realize how bad this was for her mission. It was still snowing hard enough to quickly cover up any tracks she might leave, but this also meant a stray twig could be hidden under the icy blankets and be accidentally stepped on at the most inopportune time such as when she was no more than three feet away from a rather angry mercenary. Fortunately, the city was already rather dark. The night sky was mostly obscured mostly by clouds blocking out most of the stars and the moons. Beneath the clouds, the moons were nicely crescent-shaped, giving off little light to begin with. Slinging her pack over her shoulder, she took this as a good sign and felt her nerves easing up as she slipped down the back alleys of Riften toward the doors to the docks. The darkness meant less chance of being spotted by mercenaries, at least until she got into the estate itself. Picking a torch off the city walls, she slipped out on to the docks and headed out toward the estate before her confidence faded.

. . .

"It's cold as shit out here."

Vex rolled her eyes. "And yet you're still as elegant as ever, Delvin."

It was freezing outside Riften, and the frigid winds were blowing tiny snowflakes on her face. Every so often she would wipe them away only to smudge her makeup and leave little black smears on her hands. Delvin was sitting on the side of the dock with his legs dangling off the side as he absentmindedly tossed pebbles he found on the ground into the lake. Leaning on the stone walls of the city, Vex was barely repressing the urge to kick him into the cold waters below. It wasn't like he'd drown or anything. She knew for a fact he could swim. Still he would get his knickers in a knot, and Vex didn't want to risk any more trouble with the guild. So she stood there in the freezing winds with her jaw clenched and her eyes watching the estate in the distance.

It had been less than half an hour since the recruit had left, and Brynjolf had tasked the pair to play look-out for signs of smoke. Vex just knew it was because she'd botched the first attempt at the Goldenglow break-in. This whole thing was a slap in the face as far as she was concerned. She messed up once, and now Mercer was mocking her by giving the job to some fresh-faced child who probably couldn't tell the hilt of a dagger from the pointy end. To add insult to injury, Brynjolf had assigned Delvin to wait with her under the false assertion that he knew if he sent one of them they would abandon post to go do something else, but if he sent both of them they'd be too stubborn to let the other wander off. It had been a lie. Brynjolf was punishing her for something. She was definitely going to punch him again when she got back to the Flagon.

Delvin looked up at her. "You think she's dead?"

"Probably."

"Pity. I was hoping to see more of her."

"You want to see more of every woman you meet."

"I didn't mean it like that. What's up your ass that's got you so crabby?"

"Shut up."

Throwing his hands up in the air, Delvin made a face at her and went back to throwing rocks into the lake. None of this was fair. If she'd just stuck to the plan and not let her emotions get the better of her, the whole job would have been done last night, and she wouldn't have to be lowered in the eyes of her peers. Vex knew she was better than the recruit, but the idea of the others congratulating that girl on something that should have been her glory had her stomach in knots and infuriated her more than she had felt in a long time. She didn't really blame the girl, and she certainly wasn't jealous of her. There was no reason to be. The little Breton would be gone in no time whether by force or choice. No matter how much Brynjolf deluded himself, no one ever stuck around these days. No, the recruit was just a pawn in Mercer's game to get back at her for mucking up a job. If she succeeded in this and then failed later, it would just look even worse on Vex's part.

This was exactly what the others meant when they called her a pigheaded bitch. Despite what her actions and words would lead one to believe, Vex wasn't so self-absorbed that she didn't know what they were talking about. She was fully aware that she had flaws. It just didn't really matter to her so long as those flaws didn't get in the way of her success. Sometimes her stubbornness caused her to make mistakes. It occasionally blinded her from taking other's advice to heart when they knew more about the subject than she did, but more often than not, her tenacity separated her from the lazy bums back in the Ratway who were perfectly willing to whine about how poorly the guild was doing and still not do a damn thing to change that. She might be inflexible and cold and rude, but what the others liked to forget was she was one of the few actually trying to fix things and despite what happened the other night, she rarely ever made mistakes. That was why it was so unfair that she had to be stuck out in the snow watching for some child to do a job that was rightfully hers.

Then far away she saw a bright light coming from behind the estate. Dark smoke clouded in the night air and was quickly whisked away with the wind. Vex nudged Delvin with her boot, and the old man looked up at her with his brow furrowed in confusion. He then turned his attention toward the lake. Grinning, he slowly got to his feet and crossed his arms.

"Well, looks like she ain't dead after all. Should we go tell Bryn the good news?"

"Not yet."

"Shit, in case you haven't noticed, Vex, it's colder than a miner's ass out here."

"I'm making sure only three catch on fire."

"How can you tell how many there are?"

"Look harder."

With the wind blowing and mixing the smoke together, it was hard to see, but there were the separate tufts of smoke coming from behind the estate. There were two already, and then a third came puffing up. She waited a couple minutes with Delvin impatiently rubbing his hands against his arms for warmth. When no more smoke clouds sprouted up, she decided the recruit had done as told and motioned with her head to the door. Groaning in relief, Delvin quickly opened the door to the city and headed inside. She slowly followed behind him as they reached the cemetery and he knelt down to press on the familiar button to open up the "tomb" that lead to the cistern. The mechanical screech of stone moving filled the quiet night air, and the pair disappeared into the sewer tunnel below.

They found Brynjolf leaning against the bar in The Ragged Flagon, already half drunk from the looks of his smile. Though he had a high tolerance for alcohol and an even better ability to fake sobriety, Vex knew the Nord well enough by this point to be able to immediately identify his "drunk" face. His head would nod just the slightest while he was standing, and he would get the softest smile on his lips. It was different from his usual confident grin or his self-satisfied smirk. It was completely genuine like there were absolutely no problems going on in his intoxicated head. At the sight of them, his eyes lit up like a dog seeing its owner return and he held his hands up welcoming them back. That look made her almost forget that her earlier decision to sock him in the face again.

"So what's the verdict?"

"Smoke's up," Delvin said as he sat down at his usual table.

Vex leaned against the bar on next to Brynjolf and motioned for Vekel to over to the counter. "And she surprisingly didn't level the place."

"Fantastic! See I told you she'd be useful to have around."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"More than he needs," Vekel answered for him.

An indignant frown on his lips, Brynjolf waved the bartender off with his hand. "I'll be the judge of that. Anyway, it doesn't count today. I'm celebrating."

"She hasn't come back yet," Vex reminded him. "All I said was she finished the beehives. She could still be killed by the guards inside the house."

"Well, then I'm drinking my sorrows away due to the loss of a new member of our little family – and probably my job. It works either way."

With a faint chuckle, she nodded over at Vekel. "I'll have what he's having."

"A nasty hangover in the morning?"

"That's the one."

Vekel smirked to himself and muttered something under his breath that the infiltrator didn't quite catch. Once he returned with her drink, Vex took a sip and looked over at Brynjolf, happily smiling to himself as with a rather wistful look in his eyes. There was something so nostalgic about the way he acted when he was in the Flagon. Vex hadn't been around to see the glory days. She had shown up in The Ragged Flagon about several back and came back every day until she found out who was in charge. Eventually, while particularly drunk to the point where even he was showing, Brynjolf came stumbling over to her table one night and asked her who she was and what she was doing here. She had no connection to any former glory the Guild may have ever had. She only knew what she had been told.

"Why are you so obsessed with finding someone new?"

Curiously, Brynjolf lifted his head. "Beg your pardon?"

"We can barely afford to keep feeding the people we have, and yet you seem to think more people will fix this."

"Having more people means having more coin."

"Not when they're useless."

Anyone other than Brynjolf would have lashed out at her for that. Her harsh honesty tended to rub people in all the wrong ways, but Brynjolf, he was different. Despite the fact that they bickered constantly – but even that was more teasing banter than a real dispute, it took a lot for her to really get under his skin. This infuriating ability of his to brush her off like she was no more than a buzzing fly had nearly driven her mad when she first met him. If there was one thing Vex hated more than anything, it was being ignored, and that's what she thought he'd been doing at first. Now, she knew better. Brynjolf noticed everything she did, good or bad, and he accepted for what it was, what she was, which was oddly comforting to her. Setting down his cup, he just looked up, mouthing something with his lips, and then turned to her with the slyest smile.

"Well, I found you, didn't I?"

Smirking, she took a swig from her drink and looked up at him. "You know very well that I found you."

. . .

A mercenary was humming a jaunty little tune to himself as she slowly snuck past him and continued down through the cellar. The job had gone smoother than expected so far. She had burned down the hives without issue and snuck into the manor through the sewers with only a little trouble from some skeevers lurking in the shadows. Though filled with patrolling guards – one of which she almost got caught by, the warmth from inside the house had been a welcome change from the frigid winds outside. Eventually, she found the room with the safe in it and picked open the lock. Inside, there was a good bit of coin, a couple other items of interest, and a nicely written letter. She quickly decided the letter would be much better off being read to her later, than it would be if she just sat down and spent the next ten minutes trying to read the first sentence before one of the guards wandered in and set off the alarm. Besides, Brynjolf would probably want to read it anyway. Looking around, she found a passage which seemed to lead down to the sewers, and she quietly made her way back through the tunnels and up the ladder she'd come in through.

The winds had only gotten worse since she'd entered the sewers, and the snow was falling at an increasingly rapid rate. She looked around for the little rowboat she had "borrowed" earlier and tied up nearby, but the winds must have shoved it back out into the lake. Realizing the only way back was to swim, she found the letter in her pack and tucked it away under her cuirass, hoping her armor was more waterproof than her bag. Taking a deep breath, she then plunged herself into the icy waters of the lake, swimming as fast as she could to the shore. Finally surfacing on the other side, she pulled herself onto the land and rolled over onto her back as she took a couple minutes to catch her breath. Too cold to stay there any longer than necessary, she quickly got back on her feet and headed back to Riften.

Soaking wet and nearly frozen, she eventually stumbled into The Ragged Flagon. It never felt this warm before inside the Ratway. As soon as she spoke with Brynjolf, she was going to find all the blankets she could cover herself with and just pile them on until she wasn't cold any more. At the bar Vex and Brynjolf were drinking at the bar, lively chatting about something. She pulled out the mostly intact letter and sat it down in front of Brynjolf. Inquisitively, he looked down at the still shivering girl. She imagined she looked rather miserable with her hair matted down from ice and lake water and her clothes drenched and clinging to her tiny frame.

"What happened to you, lass?"

"The l-lake's a lit-ittle cold-d."

Leaving him in with a perplexed look, she headed through the back hall to the cistern and found her bed. After she stripped down of her wet clothes, she sat down on her bed and burrowed like a mouse under the blankets. It didn't provide as much warmth as she had hoped, but it was enough for now. As she lay there, completely cut off from the world by a couple thin layers of cloth, she had to fight the notion in her head that this was how she would die. After everything she had been through – all the improbable odds she had survived, she was going to wake tomorrow with a fever and die in a sewer a couple days later of a cold. With her luck, it would be an unfortunately fitting end to die such an undignified and ordinary death. Shaking her head as if the action would dispel her thoughts, she told herself she was being silly. She had faced down so much worse than this and come out of it with nothing more than a few scars and complexes. Still, the air in her little blanket-cave felt thin, and the onset of lightheadedness was rearing its ugly head.

After a couple minutes, she felt a hand press down on the blankets where her shoulder was, causing her to nearly jerk out of her fortress. At her panicked movement, the hand immediately withdrew, and as she took a couple calming breaths, she poked only her face out from under the covers, resembling a butterfly in its cocoon. Brynjolf was standing above her with a small smile. She hadn't recognized it in the Flagon, but there was the overwhelming smell of mead coming off of him though he didn't seem particularly drunk. Frowning slightly, she burrowed rather childishly back into her blankets.

"You okay, lass?"

"I'm fine."

"You did a good job tonight, lass. I'm proud of you."

She paused for a moment. "Thank you."

"I have to ask. Did you recognize the symbol on this letter?"

"I didn't read it."

"Would you mind coming out for a bit to see if you do?"

With a small noise of disapproval, she stuck her hand out for him to put the letter in. Once the parchment was in her hand, she quickly snatched it back under the blankets and began to read it over. The writer of the note had decided to use the largest vocabulary possible, and it took her a bit longer than necessary to get the basic gist of it. The estate had been sold, and Aringoth had been ordered to cease all deals with the Guild. Given her current condition, what was in the letter itself wasn't all that interesting to the recruit, but what did catch her eye was an odd symbol, a twisted dagger over a black circle, at the top of the page. It was intriguing, but nonetheless she didn't recognize it. Folding the paper, she stuck her hand back out to Brynjolf.

"I've never seen it."

"I'll ask Mercer."

There was another pause. For a second, she thought he had left, but something in her could still feel him standing over the bed.

"Do you need anything? I could get Rune to make you a hot meal. Believe it or not, the lad brews a mean venison stew."

"It's fine."

She felt the mattress dent as Brynjolf sat down at the foot of her bed just next to her legs. Holding her breath, she waited for something to happen – a word, an advance – something to dispel the tension rising in her chest even if it meant a call to arms. After a second, she heard him let out a rather loud sigh.

"Look, lass. I feel a little bad about sending you out in a blizzard."

"I'll survive."

"Are you angry with me?"

With a roll of her eyes, she contemplated just staying silent until Brynjolf left. She wasn't angry with him or even irritated at him. What she was irritated at was how hard it was for her to speak to people and how often her silence came across as poor manners. Trying to restrain her frustration so he wouldn't think it was aimed at him, she sat up on the bed and adjusted the blankets to stay wrapped around her body, partially for warmth and partially for decency.

"I don't have anything to say. I don't mean to sound rude or passive-aggressive or anything. I just don't speak much."

Chuckling, the red-haired thief shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, I'm just honestly not used to that. You'd think with a profession that relies on stealth, we'd have more people like you, but to be honest, we don't really get much of the quiet types down here. Even Vex loves the sound of her own voice."

"Oh."

As she thought about Vex and her intimidating stare, it occurred to the recruit that she would be spending a lot of time down here with these people, and that it wouldn't hurt to at least try to converse with them. Of course, that was a lie. Speaking to people could hurt worse than a bottle to the face. When she spoke too long, these little, anxious knots would tie up in her stomach, and she would find herself biting and picking the skin off the area around her nails. Still, as long as she mostly kept the other person talking and didn't say that much herself, she could survive it without too much going wrong, and Brynjolf definitely seemed the type to carry a good deal of a conversation.

"Does Vex hate me?"

"What? No, she just doesn't like anyone, and you are unfortunately under the category of anyone."

"She seems to like you."

"I'm not just anyone, lass. I'm special."

There was a pause, and she bit her lip. Quickly, a plan formulated in her head.

"How did you meet her?"

He laughed. "You say that like she's my wife. Like I told you last night, there's nothing going on there."

"And I told you I didn't want to know."

"Then why are you asking?"

It was an honest enough question. The truth was that over the years she had found the easiest way to feign a conversation was to get someone to tell a story. The other person could do all the talking, and all she had to do was listen and nod. Though it might seem disingenuous, she did care on some level what about what was being said. Even if it was completely false, stories were good ways to judge someone's character and an even better way to gain their approval, so long as she didn't pry into territory the other clearly wasn't comfortable with talking about. It was a nice way to at least pretend to connect with other people.

"I want to know this."

Cocking his head back, Brynjolf mused over her request for a second before standing up.

"All right, I'll tell you, but first, I want you to put on some dry clothes and eat something warm. Don't want you catching your death in this old place."

. . .

After the Goldenglow job, the Guild quickly fell back into the same routine as before. The coin continued to flow in but never stayed very long. Mercer had been livid about the bill of sale found in Aringoth's safe, going on and on to his second later that night about how they had to stomp out this problem and quickly. Fortunately, the guild master's ire settled a bit when the elf quickly "disappeared" soon after Maven caught wind of the news. Exactly where Aringoth went after that was a part of the job that Brynjolf tried not to contemplate, but it wasn't like he was particularly sad to see him go. The Altmer had always been a bit of a pain in the ass to deal with.

That first week after Goldenglow, Brynjolf heard some of the strangest stories he had ever been told. The recruit – whom Delvin was affectionately referring to at the time as Sticks, a nickname that rather ironically didn't stick – was just as dodgy about her past with the others as she had been with Brynjolf. Each member seemed to have been told a different tale. She was an Alik'r warrior who had been abandoned by her comrades, an extremely undercover Thalmor agent snooping out possible worshippers of Talos, a rejected lover of Ulfric Stormcloak who now drowning her sorrows in a sewer. The list went on, and every time she had used the same deadpan expression that almost made it sound real. Brynjolf's personal favorite was the one she had told Cynric about being a priestess of Sanguine whose hobbies included sacrificing goats and dancing naked in the moonlight, if only for the slightly horrified expression on the old Breton's face as he retold the tale.

Just as Brynjolf had suspected, over the next month, the recruit had quickly found a nice, little spot in the Guild just like the rest of them. That spot, however, might as well have been the resident ghost. More often than not, the girl was out on jobs, which was a pleasant surprise to Brynjolf and a foot in the mouth to Vex. When she was there, well, she hadn't been exaggerating when she had told him that she didn't speak much. For the most part, she kept her head down and stayed out of sight. She never initiated conversation with anyone other than Delvin or Vex, and that was only to get jobs. She didn't even really speak with Tonilia when she sold off her "possessions."

Even stranger than her stories was her behavior. She had these worrisome little habits that once noticed were near impossible to ignore. There were always scabs on her lips and blood around her cuticles from where she had picked the skin off. If anyone so much as brushed against her, she would always flinch in the slightest if not full on jerk her whole body away. More than once, someone had found the girl passed out in increasingly odd places such as under the bar of the Flagon, in the training room, behind the Temple of Mara. Every time she would give the same flighty excuses: "I must have forgotten to eat" or "I just haven't slept in awhile." One night, Brynjolf had even caught her sitting in a corner the Ratway, barely holding herself together and breathing at an unsteady rate like she had been attacked. When questioned about it, she just looked up at him with that spacey face of hers and claimed she didn't know what he was talking about.

"I like Sticks and all," Delvin had said to Brynjolf over a game of cards late one night, "but she's loonier than Sheogorath's court jester. She kills someone on a job, and we're shippin' her off to Astrid. Got it?"

Brynjolf had laughed, but the old man's words had struck a little too close to home. "You don't think she's really Brotherhood material, do you?"

"I was thinking it was either that, or her mother breastfed her with skooma."

Though he had figured Delvin was being a little paranoid as always, Brynjolf found himself watching the recruit a little closer after that. However, that was around the time she started to ease into the guild, even making what could have been considered friendships with a couple of her fellow thieves. She had a love like no other for hearing stories, which won her quick favor with Vipir and Niruin. With a content smile on her lips, she would sit by the waters of the cistern and listen almost eagerly as they spun their tales to her. Soon afterwards, the guild had finally settled on a name for her after Vipir got a little too drunk one night and decided he was going to guess everyone's true name.

A couple of the junior members had been standing around the bar as Vex and Brynjolf sat back at a table and watched their inebriated antics. Having started drinking nearly an hour before the rest joined him, Vipir the Fleet had been by far the most intoxicated of the lot, barely able to hold himself up as he waved his arms around wildly. To keep himself upright, he kept leaning on Rune, who was smiling and trying to keep the giant Nord off of him without causing a scene. On the other side of Vipir, Niruin, being the lightweight he was, sat giggling and swaying slightly on a stool next to the recruit, who was propping her head up with her hand. Despite constantly forgetting to eat, the girl surprisingly drank like a sailor.

"Rune, my boy," Vipir had announced in a rather loud voice, falling once more onto the boy's shoulder. "You are actually Grognak."

The boy had simply laughed and gently pushed the drunken man off of his shoulder again.

"I like that. Sounds manly."

"Good, good. Vex, your name is actually Portia."

"Not even close."

Muttering something undoubtedly lewd just quietly enough that Vex didn't catch it, Vipir turned his attention toward Brynjolf. The red-haired Nord just took a sip of his mead and waited for whatever potentially ridiculous thing would come out of the drunken man's mouth.

"And Brynjolf, you're a sneaky one aren't you? Telling us a real-sounding name, but it's not actually your name at all. Is it, Iver Thin-Bones?"

"I think you've had a little too much to drink, lad."

Waving his hands around dismissively, Vipir made a face and turned back to the others, nearly falling over as he did so. Chuckling, Brynjolf continued to watch the scene as Vex shook her head though she appeared a little less annoyed than usual.

"Bah, that's just what he wants us to think. – Now, where was I? Ah, Niruin! That's probably actually your name. There's probably a more elfish way of pronouncing it, but I'm not going to try."

Finally, he turned his attention on the Breton woman. Examining her thoughtfully, he pursed his lips before finally dubbing her: "Tomas."

The girl's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "How did you know?"

"Wait, really?"

Genuinely confused, Vipir's mouth hung open as he cocked his head back. Vex rolled her eyes at their foolishness and mumbled the word "idiots" under her breath. Trying to hold back a fit of laughter at Vipir's reaction, Rune and Niruin both nearly buckled over, but the recruit's face stayed as serious as ever.

"My friends used to call me Tom."

"You're shitting me."

"No, no," Niruin answered for her, attempting to feign composure. "It's true. Isn't it, Brynjolf?"

Playing along, Brynjolf held up his glass. "Aye. How did you not know this, lad?"

"Don't encourage them," Vex snapped.

"Relax. It's just a bit of fun."

Vex had crossed her arms and made a face at him as the others continued teasing Vipir. At one point in the night, they had managed to convince him that she was a man. The next morning, Rune and Niruin had started calling the recruit Tom, which greatly puzzled a hung-over Vipir the Fleet. Considering the girl's lithe figure and the way she stood with her shoulders hunched an her hands in her pocket like an adolescent boy, it wasn't much of a surprise how quickly the name caught on. However, with the name came a certain confidence and she began to come out of her shell a little more. She would sit around the Flagon and tell Delvin about her latest heist, train her marksman skill with Niruin, and drink herself to sleep with Vipir and Rune. As the spring rolled near, her progress, while small, was beginning become more and more evident, even catching the ever watchful eye of a certain client.

. . .

The first thing she'd noticed as her eyes began to open was the throbbing pain in her head, and she wondered just how much she had drunk the night before. A foul taste in her mouth suggested it had been far too much. The second thing she noticed was the hand shaking her awake. Instinctively panicking, she reached out and grabbed the shoulders of the figure above her pulling him down. There was a startled yelp as the momentum of his fall caused both of them to tumble off the other side of the bed. She pinned her "assailant" to the floor, readying her fist, as her vision focused in on the face of a familiar, frightened Bosmer.

"Azura's tits, Tom! What was that for?"

"Sorry."

As she dismounted Niruin, she heard someone snickering nearby. Standing up, she looked over to the other side of the bed to see Cynric Endell with his hand covering his mouth, barely hiding an elated grin at the elf's misfortune. Niruin dusted himself off and got back on his feet, glowering over at the other man.

"Very funny."

"You should have seen your face when she grabbed you."

The Breton man mimicked an overly dramatic, terrified expression before he broke down into another fit of laughter. Not nearly as amused by the situation, Niruin folded his arms and pouted his lips. Tom curiously looked back and forth between the two as she tried to figure out what was going on and why the pair had woke her up. Niruin's presence made sense. Over the past month and a half, Tom had struck up somewhat of a friendly acquaintanceship with the elf, but Cynric, on the other hand, had never shown much interest in talking to her or anyone for that matter. As the man calmed down from his laughter, he grinned over at Niruin.

"Come on, it was funny."

Before Niruin could think of a witty enough comeback, Tom spoke up.

"What's going on?"

"It's the first of First Seed," Niruin explained bitterly. Fortunately his resentment was mostly aimed at Cynric. "The archers in the Guild have this little tradition. Since we aren't supposed to kill anyone on a job and firing at immobile dummies leaves little to work with, it keeps our skills shar–"

"We're going deer hunting, girl," Cynric interrupted. "You want to come?"

"I was going to get to that."

"You were taking too long."

"Excuse me for being eloquent, unlike you." He lowered his voice in near perfect imitation of Cynric's gravelly voice. "So, Thrynn, heh heh, is it true that bandits, heh heh, get real 'friendly' with the wild life? Heh heh."

Shamelessly, the Breton man shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back toward Tom.

"So you coming or what?"

Her instincts screamed at her that this was a trap. For whatever reason, they would turn the tables on her sometime during their little outing and make it look like an accident, but she quickly suppressed this notion. In order to keep from looking like a lunatic to the other members, she had been on her absolute best behavior since joining the Guild, and she wasn't about to screw that up just to quell her own paranoid tendencies. Besides, she was being unreasonable. There was no reason for these people to hurt her.

"Sure."

"Great. Get yourself ready and meet us outside the main city gate." He looked over at Niruin. "Make sure she gets everything she needs."

As the man left, Tom walked over to the chest by her bed and began rummaging through it to find her bow. She set it down on the floor along with her quiver and dagger then grabbed her boots lying nearby. As she put them on, she gazed up at the elf standing over her, his face still stuck in a scowl from his squabble with Cynric.

"So why are we doing this?'

The Bosmer smiled. "Oh, well, as I was saying, we don't get a lot of time to practice with moving targets, so we have these hunting trips every once in awhile to keep our skills sharp. For the most part, we just do them whenever we've all got a day off, but we set aside the first of First Seed as a special, first hunt of the year. I don't know all the details. They've been doing this long before me. I think it was Karliah who started it."

"Who's Karliah?"

"You mean you haven't heard yet?"

"No."

"She was before my time. My, I think she was before everyone's time. Cynric's one of the older members, and even he had only just joined when she – left. From what I've heard, she was this amazing, little Dunmer woman, who had skill with the bow that would put even me to shame. The guild master before Mercer, a man named Gallus, had grown fond of her – a little too fond some might say. The story goes that one day Mercer was riding out to meet Gallus. The former guild master fancied himself the scholar and was always investigating new things. As he saw his friend waiting for him, he dismounted his horse just as an arrow struck Gallus' chest. As the guild master crumpled to the ground, Mercer looked up to see just a flash of Karliah before she disappeared into the woods. Mercer took over the guild, and Karliah never came back."

"She killed him?"

It came as a nasty shock. Brynjolf had said the guild was like family, and during her time there, she had found that the thieves, while they bickered like old married couples and certainly threatened each other on a regular basis, would never do anything to bring their fellow guild mates physical harm, or at least not serious harm. Even Mercer and Vex had limits to their anger. The idea of such a grim betrayal seemed impossible.

"That's the story. It's one of my favorites after the time Delvin got his head stuck in a storm drain."

As she finished lacing up her boots, Tom let out a small chuckle as she gathered her things and stood up.

"How did he manage that?"

"Oh, now there's a story for you!"

As they exited through The Ragged Flagon out to the Ratway, Niruin excitedly recounted the tale of a drunken Delvin. The sky was still dark when they came out of the sewers and Niruin finished speaking. She loved the way the elf told stories. He had this rather animated way of talking that made everything seem that much more interesting. Something about the way he moved his hands while talking, Tom couldn't help but be reminded of an old friend she'd had growing up, a wood elf like himself, though Niruin's background greatly differed from his. Once the pair reached the gates of Riften, they spotted Cynric and Vipir lazily leaning against the stone walls with bored expressions on both of their faces.

"We ready?" the Breton man asked and Tom nodded. "Excellent."

With the glow of dawn breaking under the trees, the group travelled down the road and veered off through a path through the woods. Since arriving in the city, Tom hadn't gotten much time to really explore the area around Riften, usually sticking to the main road when she went out on jobs. She quickly found herself wishing she had taken more trips outside the city. In that golden haze of early morning, a forest had never looked so magical. Birds chirped in the trees above them, and a rabbit scurried across their path. As they quietly came up on a small creek, Cynric and Vipir stopped, and they camped out behind a particularly wooded area just behind the creek.

"Okay, kids," Cynric said as he sat down at the foot of a tree. "You two know the drill. Don't hunt go trespassing on the lodge, and don't piss off anything you can't handle. Meet back here before sunset."

Nodding, Vipir and Niruin began to head off in separate directions. Tom started to wander off as well, but the other Breton called her back.

"Wait, girl."

She turned around. "Yes?"

"You know this area?"

She shook her head, and Cynric stood up with a sly grin. "Then, it's probably best you stick with me. Don't want you to end up getting lost and wandering into Morrowind or back into Cyrodiil."

The word "back" caught her off guard, but she didn't press it in case he didn't mean anything by it. Without another word, the two Bretons began to stalk through the forest. As the day went on, Tom found that Cynric was a much better shot than her. It became especially apparent after she hit an elk in the side with an arrow only for the animal to go running off into the forest. Chasing after it, she haphazardly fired her bow in the general direction of the elk. While she was pulling out another arrow, something went flying past her line of sight and the creature fell dead several feet in front of her. Bewildered, she quickly turned around and saw the Breton man putting away his bow a few yards behind her. He started walking toward his kill.

"Sorry, kid. Just wanted to make sure it didn't get too far away from us."

"It's fine."

Tom went searching for any stray arrows of hers she could find. They had been out there for what seemed like hours. By this point, the sun was high in the clear, blue sky. The forest felt of the gentle warmth of spring and a nice cool breeze would pick up every so often. She was pulling her arrow out of a tree when for the second time that day she heard a loud yelp coming from a familiar, elfin voice. From a few feet away, Cynric looked up from the deer he was kneeling over and exchanged confused glances with Tom as they saw a slender figure in the distance barreling towards them.

"What in the – "

"Bear! Bear! Bear!"

Upon hearing the screams, Tom could have sworn she felt her heart stop, but Cynric just shook his head as if Niruin was shrieking about something as harmless as a butterfly.

"I told him not to piss off anything he couldn't handle, but did he listen? No, and now I have to go save his ass."

As Cynric and Tom ducked behind a tree, they watched Niruin grow closer. That was when Tom spotted the growling beast chasing after him. Fortunately, so long as the elf didn't slow down or trip, the great bear was far enough behind him that it wouldn't be able to catch him before they could do something. Holding his breath, Cynric waited for a clear shot. The elf was almost at them, the bear gaining on his heels. A howl filled the air. Releasing the string, the thief's arrow flew through the air and struck the bear in the side of the neck, stunning it but not killing it. Niruin took this distraction as an opportunity to hide behind a bush and catch his breath. With a loud laugh, Cynric jumped out from behind the tree in some crazed, adrenaline rush. Frantically, Tom tried to reach out and grab him back before the bear spotted him, but it was too late. The creature turned its head and slowly began lumbering toward the Breton, who just pulled another arrow from his quiver and drew back the string.

"Come and get me!"

"Don't taunt the bear!" Tom snapped at him in a hushed voice.

Backing up a few steps, he fired an arrow at the bear just as it began to lunge at him. Luckily, it hit right between the eyes, and the beast fell to the ground with another howl. Laughing hysterically, Cynric put away his bow and stood over the dead bear with pride. The tension slowly leaving her body, Tom caught her breath and stepped out from behind the tree as well. Over in the bushes, Niruin was sitting on the ground and breathing heavily. The danger had passed, but something still felt wrong.

"Who's going to stop me now?" he bragged as he pulled out his knife.

Then what was wrong hit her like a charging bear.

"Bears don't howl."

A puzzled look on his brow, Cynric turned around to face Tom. Opening his mouth, he was interrupted by a flash of black fur tackling him to the ground. Pivoting on her heel, she spotted two angry wolves rushing toward her. As she quickly pulled her dagger from her belt, the closest one whined and dropped to the ground, an arrow sticking out of its eye. The remaining one lunged at her, and she instinctively swung her weapon at it, slicing it across the snout. The wolf backed off for a second, and another arrow finished it off. She turned back toward Cynric still struggling on the ground with the first wolf. Not far off, Niruin was drawing another arrow as the wolf bit its teeth into the Breton man's arm.

Taking a deep breath, Tom concentrated her energy and shot the creature with a green light, dazing both the man and the animal. Quickly regaining his poise, Cynric grabbed for his knife lying just barely within reach and jabbed it into the disoriented wolf's throat. He twisted the knife and pulled it out before kicking the dead animal off of him. Offering her hand, Tom helped him get back on his feet. He brushed himself off and looked around exhaling deeply.

"Well, that was exciting."

With a sigh of relief, Niruin put away his bow and stood up slowly before walking over to the others.

"Let me see your arm."

Making a face, Cynric reluctantly rolled up his sleeve and let the elf inspect the rather deep bite mark.

"That could be infected. We better get back to the cistern so I can patch this up."

"Quit fussing. I'm fine."

They bickered for awhile over the severity of Cynric's injury before something came stumbling through the branches. Tom spun around to see that it was just Vipir the Fleet. Examining the dead animals lying around the trio, he cocked an amused eyebrow and looked up at them.

"Seems I missed all the excitement. What happened here?"

"Got attacked by a bear and a couple wolves," Cynric answered dryly. "No big deal."

"Tell him he needs to get this treated."

"It's fine."

"Don't be a child."

"You're the one fussing over a little bite."

Having had enough of their fighting, Tom cleared her throat and managed to get everyone's attention.

"I think we should head back. With our luck today, it's only a matter of time before a dragon swoops down on us."

Niruin smirked victoriously, and Cynric grimaced before nodding his head in slight agreement. Packing up their things, the four made their way back to Riften. By the time they entered The Ragged Flagon, the Bosmer and Breton man had put aside their earlier disagreement and were laughing as they told Vipir in dramatic detail of the "great battle" in the forest. The three men stood around the bar and ordered drinks as Tom felt a hand gently grab her shoulder. She spun around to see Brynjolf.

"Where have you been, lass? I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I went deer hunting," she told him in a detached tone. "We got attacked by a bear and some wolves."

Chuckling, Brynjolf crossed his arms. "That sounds like quite the tale. Look, we got a letter this morning, and it seems Maven Black-Briar herself wants to speak with you."

Even after everything that had occurred in the past couple of hours, that sentence alone was the most frightening thing that had happened all day. The breath knocked from her lungs, she stared up at the Nord with pleading eyes and felt every muscle in her body tighten defensively. The room was so small, and her head was so heavy. Panicking, she had to get out of there, run right out of Riften, but her feet wouldn't move.

"But I didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh no, lass. It's okay. If she was angry with you she'd be calling on the Dark Brotherhood. This is just business."

Suddenly feeling foolish, she relaxed a bit. "Oh."

"Can I give you little word of advice? You have to be a bit more confident than that when you face Maven. Not cocky, but don't let her walk all over you. Otherwise she'll chew you up and spit you right out."

He placed his hands on her tiny shoulders. For once, she didn't immediately flinch or jerk away from someone's touch. She wondered if this meant she was beginning to trust this man and knew she was making a grave mistake. Still, there was this completely nonthreatening and genuinely concerned look on Brynjolf's face that made the gesture simply comforting. It had been a long time since she felt that safe with anyone.

"Understand?"

Nodding slightly, she backed away from him still shaken by the strange feeling of comfort. "I'll go find her right now."

Author's Notes: If you can catch half the pop culture references in this chapter, you win my hand in marriage, but not really. Also, I rewrote a lot of this chapter so please point out if a sentence cuts out midway through a paragraph or something.

Edit: five minutes after posting this chapter. Yep, I forgot something.