~Authors Note~
This chapter is a bit short, being that it's really just one of those little filler chapters. I never realized how small my chapters really are until I started looking over different fanfictions. I don't know if I want to make them any longer, though. It would be a little different if I updated the chapters every week or something like that. Should I make them longer? But anyway, enjoy this little chapter of slight angst~!
Yours Eternally, Erin
The Flagon was almost completely empty when Valentyne returned. It was just Brynjolf and Delvin sitting at a table, with Vekel cleaning a few tankards and Dirge at his usual spot. They hadn't even heard him enter, but suddenly there were three coin purses in front of the book Brynjolf had been reading. He shot his gaze up only to meet a blank stare.
"There, all the money they owed to you. I shall take my leave now." Brynjolf wasn't even able to congratulate him before he stalked off into the Cistern. Delvin shot him a look of confusion, and Brynjolf returned it. He knew that look all too well; hurt pride. Judging by how Sapphire had stormed in earlier, he could only guess that the lad had gotten into a bit of trouble with one of the three and Sapphire had had to step in and help. She still couldn't accept the task of watching over Valentyne, and must have taken it out on him.
Closing the book, he decided to follow Valentyne. He found him on one of the beds, hugging his knees and staring at the wall. He held himself in such a manner that he would fall apart if he didn't. His facial expression, blank and unwavering, gave away none of the inner turmoil he was facing. It was all in his eyes. Usually filled with such life, they were completely dead. Whatever Sapphire had said to him was obviously bothering him.
"I apologize, Brynjolf. It did not go quite as well planned as I had hoped." Valentyne spoke as soon as Brynjolf was close enough to hear his mumbling. He was under the assumption that Sapphire had ranted and raved about his failure to anyone who would listen as soon as she arrived back. Why shouldn't she have? Valentyne was a failure, and he had no problem admitting it, for it was true. And failures deserved to be mocked. "Maybe it would be for the best if I just keep to the job I was originally assigned."
"Don't be ridiculous, lad. You did a fine job. You got the money didn't you? That's more than the other recruits we've had could say." Valentyne only shook his head. It wasn't enough for him, not at all.
"I may have obtained their debts, but not without some assistance. I should not have needed any help… at all. If I were well enough on my own like any other… I just cannot do it, Brynjolf. I am sorry." He still refused to look at Brynjolf; just kept staring at the wall as if it held the answers to everything he had once wondered about. Brynjolf sighed, and took a step closer to him.
"Valentyne…" Suddenly, a series of tremors shook him. As if, by just saying his name, Valentyne had come to some horrible realization that only he understood. In shame of losing his composure, he buried his face into his knees. Brynjolf put a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little. "Come on, lad. It isn't that bad."
"Yes it is!" It was a shrill cry that rang through the Cistern, alerting a few of the other Guild members of Valentyne's current predicament. He stared up at Brynjolf, tears just on the brim of his eyes. But he wouldn't let them fall free. If there was one thing Valentyne wouldn't do it was cry in self-pity. Rant and rave a bit, maybe. But he wasn't even worth his own tears in his eyes. "You would not understand. Everything I have ever done has needed to be held up by someone else or failure would be imminent. Can you comprehend how it feels to be so useless? You, of all people? It is exhausting to live in this constant disappointment of who you are… I should be better than this. I should be and I know it but yet… I cannot fix it. Every time I get to a point where I feel I suddenly may be able to change, everything crashes around me when I realize how terrified I am. I thought I could best Bersi, but as soon as he laid the first hit… That was it. It was all over, and I was left the fool; crumpled and broken on the floor… But who am I to spew my nonsense to you, Brynjolf? I apologize."
Brynjolf hadn't said a single word as Valentyne spoke. He just listened, watching as he struggled with his words. Valentyne hadn't been able to keep eye contact the entire time, clearly uncomfortable as he spilled his emotions out in a puddle on the floor. Brynjolf could still remember when he was young and had felt exactly the same way. Always afraid of disappointing someone; living on the edge of fear of not being good enough. He did understand, completely. Before the Guild, he had been a scared little boy like Valentyne, scampering through his hometown and stealing just to gain an ounce of approval from his mentor. In that moment, he could almost see himself in Valentyne. Granted, he hadn't been that old when he finally realized he was better than his ridiculous fear, but there wasn't much of a difference between his past self and him.
Finally, he sighed, and squeezed the boys shoulder reassuringly. Valentyne looked back up at him, his eyes now a crystal blue from the unshed tears. In any other circumstance, they would have been absolutely stunning. But this was not any other circumstance, and Brynjolf felt as if it were his right to try and cheer the boy up.
"Well then, we better get started on some training for you, ay lad?" Valentyne searched his face for a minute, scrutinizing every aspect. When he finally realized Brynjolf was completely serious, his face lit up and the spark of life was back in his eyes.
"You truly mean that?" Valentyne sat on his knees in front of Brynjolf, reminding him of a small puppy excited to see his master. Brynjolf nodded with a smile gracing his face, and if he could have captured the boy's happiness in that moment, he would never have been sad again. Valentyne jumped at him, hugging around his stomach so tightly it surprised Brynjolf that he had that much strength. It wouldn't be so hard to train the boy in the end after all. Brynjolf chuckled a bit and patted Valentyne's head.
"One condition first, lad," Brynjolf said, and Valentyne looked up at him curiously. "I don't want to hear another word about being a disappointment, understand? As far as I can see, you have more talent than any person I've ever met." The soft pink spread across Valentyne's was followed by a sheepish grin, and he nodded. After Valentyne splashed some cold water onto his face to cease its redness, Brynjolf led him over to the archery area. As they entered the room, Brynjolf smiled at him. "And a word of advice lad… When Sapphire gets on your case again, don't let her get to you. You should know as a bard even if one person out of the whole audience disagrees, the show must go on."
"It's pathetic, Mercer. Absolutely pathetic." Mercer had only been listening with a half an ear to Sapphire's story about the day's events with Valentyne. If it hadn't been for his minor curiosity in the boy, he wouldn't have listened at all. But as he watched Niruin show him how to properly string a bow, he felt as if this boy was somehow important. Maybe not a special 'asset' to the guild as Brynjolf had gone on about, but he certainly seemed useful enough. The way he held himself when Brynjolf had presented him to Mercer held such confidence that was not normally found in someone as frail as that. Whether it was an act or not, he certainly pulled it off well enough for it to be believable. His style about going into and out of a conversation was outstanding as well; Mercer himself couldn't even fathom being as natural at speech as Valentyne. Yes, the boy was useful… to a point, of course. "What do you think, Mercer?"
"I think," Mercer said, leaning over his desk to get closer to her. "That you should continue to do as you were ordered to and watch over the kid. Brynjolf may or may not be right about him, we won't know until we test that out. I have a very… special job for him, once he gets a few days of training in." Sapphire's face twisted into disbelief, then annoyance. She only nodded her head and took her leave. There was no argument to be given; Mercer was the Guild Master and he was to be obeyed no matter what.
Sitting back into his chair, he moved his attention back over to Valentyne. He was taking a careful aim at the target, his hand steady. With a sharp twang, the arrow pierced the air and hit the stuffed man. From his spot across the Cistern, he couldn't clearly see where it had hit, but from the excitement that appeared on Valentyne's face and the pride on Brynjolf's, it had to have at least hit close to the red center. Valentyne jumped with glee, clearly happy with himself. This caused Mercer to frown. There was something odd about Valentyne that he had yet to fully understand… Something far too different for it to be normal in any circumstance. It was true, he was childish and Mercer would accept that naivety to a point, but there had to have been something else that stirred him.
He watched as Brynjolf dragged the boy off to the other training area, and decided not to think about it too much. The boy proved to be too honest for his own good, and couldn't even cope with having planted the ring on Brand-Shei. Mercer hardly had to worry about the boy hiding anything. With a sigh he opened up his book and got back to work.