I've decided to do my A/Ns at the bottom of the chapter, so look there. :)
The Elder Scrolls is © Bethesda. I own nothing you recognize.
A cheer went up at my question and I saw Farkas waving me over to sit between him and his brother, Vilkas. These twins held a special place in my heart. They, along with Kodlak, were the only ones to know the full extent of my past. They'd found out what had happened in Solitude after Vilkas heard me crying out in my sleep in Jorrvaskr one night when the nightmares had been particularly bad. So I'd told them what had happened, and they'd grieved with me over my loss, treating it as if they'd lost their own. I think that was the first time I'd ever truly cried over my husband and daughter.
I shook off my melancholy as I sat between the two Nords, giving each twin a squeeze on the shoulder before taking my chair. A tankard of ale, some bread and meat was placed in front of me, and I immediately scarfed it all down, draining the cup dry and clearing the plate in a matter of seconds.
"Ahh," I said, hiding a small burp behind my hand. "Much better." Those in the room chuckled. With my body warming up from both the alcohol and the burning fire in front of me, I asked Kodlak if it would be okay for me to stay here for a couple of days.
"Of course you may," the Harbinger responded. "I don't see why you even need to ask. You'll always have a home here." I grinned happily.
"Thank you, Harbinger," I said, getting up from my seat and stretching. "I'm going to go take a bath." The housekeeper, Tilma, led me down to the living quarters where she showed me my room. It was smaller, with a single person bed, a chest for personal items, with a table and chair located at the edge of one wall.
"I'll go get you a tub and some hot water," the old woman told me before leaving the room. I quickly undressed, placing my clothing on the bed. I had just removed my boots when Tilma returned, a large wooden tub rolling in front of her. She set it down before leaving the room again and then returning with two water-filled buckets.
"Here, dear, this is warm now. Wash your hair with this and I'll bring some more water for you to soak in." I thanked the old woman and did as she asked, taking a bar of soap and what looked to be lavender oils from inside the chest I'd seen earlier.
The bath was the most amazing thing I'd experienced in just about forever. The water was warm and after the soaking water was brought in, I swear I almost fell asleep in the tub. It took an abnormal amount of mental strength to get out of the bath once I was all clean, but once I was out and back in my clothes, I felt completely awake and rejuvenated. I quickly toweled off my hair and put the cowl over my head once again before returning to the main hall to find it empty except for the twins, Kodlak, and Aela. Vilkas spotted me first.
"Rysta, Farkas was just speaking about your rather abrupt return," he said as I took a chair amongst their group. "What brought you back here? Is everything okay?" I looked up at the younger twin and was about to explain that no, I was currently on the run from dragons and Thalmor both when someone – a courier, as it turned out – burst into Jorrvaskr.
"I'm looking for Satyr," the man announced through harsh breaths. "I have an urgent message." I jumped up from my place at the table. Satyr was an anagram of my first name, one the Thieves' Guild had used for me while I was in Riften to keep the Thalmor off my trail. Brynjolf and I hadn't been in contact for a while, but I wasn't surprised he'd tracked me down so quickly. Whiterun had been in Guild hands for quite some time now and the city was probably crawling with informants. To get a letter to me within a day, though, meant that he was more than likely in the city somewhere.
"I'm her," I replied, moving up to take the envelope from the man. Farkas and Vilkas weren't far behind me, their presence at my back a comfort I hadn't felt in a long time. I unrolled the parchment, quickly reading through the hastily-written message.
Dear Satyr,
Welcome back to Skyrim, lass. I have a personal request to ask of you. A good friend of ours has been near ruined by some work gone awry near Markarth. I request that you come find me- all you need to do is slip through the water grate immediately to the left of the city gate, behind Warmaiden's. Quick as you can please.
Yours,
B.
I read through the note twice, just to make sure I hadn't missed any details, before rolling the parchment back up and thanking the courier, who promptly disappeared out the door.
"Who's it from?" Vilkas asked, eyeing me. I looked back at him, a crease marring my brow.
"Vilkas, I need to see you, Farkas and Kodlak someplace private, if you would," I responded, avoiding the question. Both twins regarded me, confused for a moment, before nodding.
"Kodlak's in his quarters," the younger twin responded. "We can talk there." The three of us made our way downstairs and to the Harbinger's private room. Kodlak looked up at our entrance, his almost-blind eyes focusing after a moment.
"Twins, Rysta, what brings you here?" I smiled back at the older Nord as Farkas shut the door behind us. The Harbinger motioned for us to take a seat in the chairs that sat opposite his. Farkas and I each took one while Vilkas stood near the door.
"Kodlak, I need the Companion's help with something. In regards to the dragon attack in Helgen."
I could practically hear their heads whip in my direction. "I heard about the attack. News travels quickly here, but I thought it nothing but rumors." Kodlak said. "What were you doing in Helgen? Aren't you supposed to be in Cyrodiil?" I sighed deeply, pinching my nose between my fingers.
"Because of the dragon attack, Helgen was destroyed and few made it out alive. As for what I was doing, well, I was kind of a prisoner of the Empire at the time." I received no response beyond a widening of eyes from the three Nords, so I continued. "I was trying to get back into Skyrim because the Nelecar – my mom's side of the family – found my location and sent the Thalmor after me. I had been hiding in the old ruins of what used to be a fort not too far north of Bruma, so it wasn't hard to get up to the border. What was difficult was explaining my presence, and my blue tunic, to a bunch of Imperial soldiers in the middle of an ambush against the Stormcloaks. They thought I was a mage siding with the rebellion, so I was captured too. They brought us to Helgen to be executed, but then the dragon attacked and I escaped."
"So, what do you need us to do?" Farkas asked, curious.
"The Jarl's wizard has tasked me with retrieving something called a Dragon Stone from Bleak Falls Barrow but I've just received a request for aid from someone I greatly respect involving another good friend being captured out near Markarth. So, I was wondering if one or two of the Companions could be spared to go through Bleak Falls Barrow? I'd obviously pay you, and whatever reward the Jarl gives out would be yours to keep. I'm a little low on coin," I ran my hand over the too-light gold pouch tied to my hip, "but let me go sell some things and I should have something to give you." All three Companions looked at me like I'd grown a second head.
"What?"
Vilkas spoke first. "You really think we'd let a Shield Sibling pay us? Surely you hold us in higher regard than that."
My eyes went wide. "I didn't mean to offend! I was just saying-" Vilkas' snort of laughter cut off my apologies and Farkas' joking smile made me roll my eyes. The twins had quickly discovered during my previous stay at Jorrvaskr that I hated stepping on toes. They would act all offended at something I said and then snicker when I tried to amend my statement. It had been a bit of a game between us. "You guys are terrible," I said, slapping Farkas on the arm and shooting Vilkas a mock glare. I quickly sobered. "But seriously. I could really use the help."
Kodlak was the one to answer. "If the twins are up to it, I suppose I can spare them for a few days." I grinned widely, glancing hopefully between the two hulking Nords. Farkas nodded.
"I'm up for it. It's been awhile since I've been dungeon diving. Brother?" Vilkas considered it a moment.
"How long do you expect to be gone?" He asked me. I shrugged.
"I don't know. A week, maybe two. Much longer than you, for sure."
"I'll go, but only if you'll promise me one thing."
I quirked an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
"That you take someone with you. The Reach is overrun with Forsworn and you're likely to get severely injured or killed if you go on your own." Vilkas' concern for me was touching, and I agreed that I wouldn't go and perform any rescues by myself.
"Who was the letter from?" Farkas asked after we'd worked out the specifics of who was going where.
"My friend in the Thieves Guild," I explained, leaving Brynjolf's name out of it. Vilkas' face soured. The Companions knew I'd been with the Guild for a while before coming to Whiterun, they just didn't know how deeply I'd been involved. The younger twin still hadn't been fond of the idea of me prowling around at night. "An associate of ours was caught near Markarth and my assistance is needed to break him out of wherever he's being kept. That's all I know."
I got up to leave, opening the door as I explained that I needed to run some errands before I left.
"I have some things I need to pawn off before I leave," I told them, halfway out the door. "By the way," I asked, popping my head back into the room, "did an Imperial set of armor ever get dropped off?"
"It's on the table in your room," Kodlak replied kindly. I smiled and offered my thanks before leaving the three Companions to themselves. Vilkas was looking a bit sulky (well, sulkier than normal) and probably wanted to rant about my less-than-legal shenanigans to the Harbinger.
I made my way down the hall to my room, grabbed my bag from off the floor by the bed and snagged the armor from the table before lugging everything back upstairs.
I was halfway up when I bumped into someone, the collision nearly making me lose my footing.
"Sorry, are you all right?" the other person asked me, grabbing my shoulders to help right me again.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, looking up into a pair of vivid red eyes. It was a female Dunmer, with deep blue-gray skin and dark hair. It was her face I was so interested in, though. Because for all of her dark elf attributes, bright orange war makeup notwithstanding, her face almost perfectly mimicked a Nord's. I was drawn out of my reverie by her head tilting.
"You… okay?" she asked, eyes a bit wary. It looked like she was trying to figure out if I was drunk or not.
"Yeah, no, I'm fine. I was just caught off guard by your war paint." I offered my most sincere smile, trying not to die of embarrassment from getting caught staring. I adjusted my grip on the heavy armor I held in my arms. "I was just going to sell this to Adrienne. I never was good with heavy armor."
The woman smirked. "I know the feeling. I prefer leather over steel any day. I was actually just about to head over there," she told me as we climbed the rest of the stairs and walked out of Jorrvaskr. "I was going to ask Vilkas if he wanted to join me for a round at the Drunken Huntsman," one of the taverns in the city, I remembered, "after I picked up one of my swords that I'd left to have sharpened."
The two of us meandered over to Warmaiden's where the Dunmer, whose name turned out to be Tiberia, retrieved her blade (an elven sword, and quite beautiful) from Adrienne. I sold the Imperial armor to the Redguard woman for a fair price, and even managed to get her to buy the jewelry and garnets Gerdur had given me.
After parting ways with Tiberia and with a distinctly louder jingle in my gold pouch, I made my way over to Arcadia's Cauldron where I bought several healing potions and ingredients so I could make more on my own if I found the time. I then made my way back to Warmaiden's where I proceeded to step into the water channel behind the shop's forge and follow it down to the grate in the wall. I quickly looked around to make sure no one was looking before I shifted a couple of the bars and squeezed myself inside.
I replaced the grate behind me and looked down where I spotted a metal sewer cover. "I swear these people enjoy living in sewer systems," I grumbled to myself, lifting the metal plate. I placed my feet through the hole, water spilling down and drenching the ground beneath me. I dropped down to the floor below; making sure the lid partially covered the hole as I fell through. Then, with a – probably stolen – iron poker that had been placed in a corner nearby, obviously for just this scenario, I pulled the lid back over the hole, stopping the deluge of water. I grumbled, looking at my soaked dress.
"Ugh, and I'd just gotten clean, too."
"Hello lass."
I gasped, dropping the poker. The sound of it hitting the stone floor was loud in the quiet of the city's underbelly. I whirled around to see a redheaded Nord leaning up against a wall, a smirk lining his face.
"Brynjolf, by the Divines! You really need to stop sneaking up on me like that!"
"And what, miss out on your reaction? Never." Brynjolf's smug look faded into a real smile after a minute, and I couldn't help return the gesture. "Glad to see you back, Rysta," he told me, motioning me to follow him. I did so.
"What? No soul-crushing hug from my favourite redheaded thief?" I teased. Brynjolf chuckled, turning a corner into a short hallway that led to a reinforced door.
"Perhaps when you stop leaving puddles in your wake" was his response. I considered going up and hugging him anyway, if only to get his Nightingale armor wet, but thought better of it. Brynjolf was a prankster. He'd get me back a thousand times over if I tried.
"Is the Guild doing well?" I asked as Brynjolf opened the door and led me into a small room. It looked to be about a quarter of the size of the Cistern, but it was nicely furnished, with rugs, a combination bedroom/kitchen area, and even an alchemy table.
"Very well," he responded, sitting in a chair in one corner of the room. I took a seat next to the fire in an attempt to dry off my clothes. "We've pretty much got every major city in Skyrim in our hands, plus Bruma and Cheydinhal in Cyrodiil. We're working on Jehanna in High Rock and Blacklight in Morrowind as well, although this bloody war has made crossing borders difficult."
Didn't I know it. "So, how did you find out I was back?" I asked. Brynjolf smirked again.
"The minute our informant at Dragonsreach sent me a note saying that someone had survived Helgen and had come to warn the Jarl, I knew it was you. You're the only person I know who could have survived a dragon attack largely unscathed."
"Well, you were right," I admitted, walking away from the fireplace. My trying to dry myself off wasn't working quickly enough for me. "Is there any chance you brought an extra set of clothes, Bryn?" I asked. "I'm desperate to be dry again."
"I can do you one better, lass," he told me, getting up from his chair and opening up a chest next to the wall that I hadn't noticed before. I knew immediately what he was grabbing as soon as I caught sight of black leather.
My old Nightingale armor.
"You kept it," I said, a bit breathless. "I thought it would have been misplaced ages ago." The redheaded Nord smiled and he handed me the lightweight pieces.
"Have some faith, lass. Why do you think we made this underground area? It's got most of your old stuff."
I stopped, mouth agape. "Wait. Really? Even…" I walked towards the chest that Brynjolf had opened and rifled through it. And there at the bottom, wrapped in a wolf pelt, sat a blade that I hadn't seen in almost a decade.
"Chillrend!" I cried, eagerly releasing the glass sword from its furry confines. I looked up at Brynjolf, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you, Brynjolf. It means a lot to me."
Chillrend had been the prize I'd claimed out of Mercer, the former Guildmaster's hidden room at his home while we'd been raiding it. It was a sword enchanted with a powerful frost spell, and the fact that it was made from glass and thus fairly light in weight made it a perfect blade for me. A lot better than the rusty dagger I carried now, in any case.
"Well, go get changed. There's a curtain divider between the bed and the rest of the room." I quickly followed Brynjolf's advice, drawing the curtain across before peeling myself out of my wet clothing. I hastily put on the Nightingale uniform, my fingers easily remembering how to put it on. The armor was a bit larger than it had been the last time I wore it. Gerdur apparently hadn't been kidding when she said I'd lost more weight.
I pulled the curtain back once I'd buckled Chillrend to my hip, my hood up but my mask lowered. "How do I look?"
"You look less like a wet skeever," he replied. I walked over and swatted his arm, a mock glare on my face.
"All right, enough jokes," I said as both of us took seats at the table. "What's going on in Markarth? And it was Niruin that got caught? The 'near ruined' hint was clever, by the way."
Brynjolf nodded. "Aye. The poor lad was caught by some patrolling guards just outside of Markarth one night and we have reason to believe he's being held captive in their prison."
"Cidhna Mine?" I gasped. "That's really bad. I remember hearing about them keeping Forsworn down there." I rubbed my forehead. "And you want me to get him out?"
Another nod. "The Guild is well known in Markarth, and while we may have more leeway to loot the city, breaking a prisoner out of Cidhna Mine is an entirely different matter. Your face is the only one the guards won't recognize. Besides, you're our best infiltrator, barring our little Vex, and she's gone off to Solitude on a sweep job."
I paused for a minute, thinking. "And do they know… what he is?" Brynjolf shook his head.
"I doubt it."
It had taken me a good year to figure out that Niruin was a vampire. The Thieves Guild loved its secrecy and since most of the members wore their hoods constantly, it was hard to memorize faces. Niruin was one such person, but since no one in our line of business cared about revealing faces or enjoyed going out during the day dressed in uniform, I never thought much of it. The only reason I found out was because the two of us had gotten caught by hired brutes in the middle of a job and they pulled back his hood, revealing his face, and his fangs. I wasn't even sure after that, but once I saw him disintegrate into mist and then reappear out of the thugs' reach, I knew exactly what he was.
There's a special type of vampire out in the northern reaches of Valenwood, called the Keerilth. It's a strictly Bosmer clan of vampires. They're not well known amongst the general populace, and I'd only heard of them because I had picked up a book called Immortal Blood as a younger woman and read it cover to cover in an attempt to understand the perpetrators of the attacks in Solitude that had stolen my husband and daughter from me.
It took me a while to accept Niruin's condition, as I held (and to a degree, I still do hold) a grudge against vampires of all kinds. The Bosmer, Divines bless him, had completely understood my situation and laid low until I was more comfortable around him. Vampirism aside, I considered him to be one of my closest allies.
"How long has he been in prison?" I asked.
"At least a week, according to our informant," was Brynjolf's reply. "And as far as he can tell, Niruin hasn't been able to feed due to one reason or another. Skooma addiction among the inmates seems the most likely explanation."
Great. So we had not only a guild mate locked up, it just happened to be the one that drank blood and would probably frenzy if he didn't feed soon. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I seemed to be doing that a lot, lately.
"All right, I'll go get him," I replied. Brynjolf's resulting smile could have lit up all of Tamriel. "But I don't want to go alone. You know how I feel about facing vampires, even friendly ones." There. I was doing what Vilkas asked of me. Not to the letter, but close enough that I didn't feel too guilty. The redhead nodded in reply, his face turning serious.
"Of course, lass," he said. "Our informant has volunteered to help you get Niruin out of Cidhna Mine in exchange for some monetary profit."
I sat back in my chair, relieved. It would spare me having to bring along another guild mate. I didn't need to worry about getting two thieves killed while I was out there. "So who are you sending with me?" I asked, curious.
"His name's Argis the Bulwark and he's a housecarl inside the city. He'll be able to get you into the prison without much trouble." The two of us stood simultaneously, him going over to the fireplace, where my clothes now hung, and I went over to the chest, retrieving more potions, ingredients, and soul gems for enchanting.
"Yeah, well, it's not the getting in part I'm worried about."
Having put everything I would need for the journey to Markarth in my knapsack, including another large pouch full of septims and multiple lockpicks, Brynjolf led me out of my safe house (safe sewer?) and down a couple of pathways. Apparently that watery entryway wasn't the only way to get in and out. Thank the Divines.
We ended up getting out through a small cave that exited just outside of the city, not too far from the stables, but well out of sight of the guards and the main road.
"Now," Brynjolf continued, facing me. "Head to Markarth and ask the steward in Understone Keep for Argis. Once you two meet, go find someplace private to discuss tactics and such. You know the drill." I nodded in assent and Brynjolf finally subjected me to a hug, although his was gentle and snug, not stifling. I'd missed this, I decided as we broke away.
"You should be careful lass," he warned me one last time. "The road to Markarth is dangerous and guarded by Forsworn, so I'd advise you stay on the main path so you don't run into too many of them." I agreed, and Brynjolf then handed me another pouch of money.
"For a horse," he explained. "Something tells me you're going to need every bit of gold you've got to keep this rescue mission under wraps." I agreed, holding the weight of the bag in my hand.
"I should be back before the month is out," I told him. It was already the 20th of Last Seed. "If I'm not, well, you should probably come looking."
With that, we went separate ways, Brynjolf back into the tunnel and me towards the Whiterun stables where I promptly purchased a horse and rode away.
I had a vampiric Bosmer to rescue.
Hey guys! It's me again! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. I was assaulted by real life and my creativity took a nosedive because of it.
I have a question for you all. I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm boring you all with these trifling details inside the chapters. Is this true? Because I think my chapters are a bit lackluster. Well, then again, I keep comparing myself to other writers and I can't help but be envious of their obvious talent so maybe that has something to do with it. Just let me know in a review, okay? I'm really concerned that this fic isn't being received too well. I respond to every review I receive, so you should totally talk to me.
Also, many thanks to MadamHyde for her review to the previous chapter and lending me her half-Dunmer Tiberia so I could put her in this chapter. You guys should go check out her fanfiction, entitled "Honor Among Thieves: The Unwilling Nightingale". It's fabulous and was part of the inspiration for this story. :D