A/N: I had a 5 AM epiphany upon browsing a website. Galmar looks exactly like an Ewok. Seriously. Google one, then google Galmar. Tell me I'm wrong.
Trying to make some sense of it all,
But I can see that it makes no sense at all,
Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor,
'Cause I don't think that I can take anymore...
"Stuck in the Middle With You", Stealers Wheel
"What are your plans now, lass?"
Brynjolf looked over to Gaella. Her hair was being blown back by the wind as she stared off into the distance. It was snowing, as usual, and the snowflakes settled in her hair, little snow drop hair ornaments.
"I've prepared a camp," She said simply, looking around. "Once I gather our location, I will lead you to it, and you may rest."
"We're somewhere near Windhelm, that much I know..."
"Mm." She picks a direction, and walks that way.
Brynjolf raised an eyebrow, but followed her. "...So, Princess. I mean...our deal is still on, right?"
She looked over her shoulder at him- looked him right in the eyes. Her intense gaze made him lose his breath.
"I-I mean, I didn't get to rescue you like I said, but surely you saw that I was no friend of Mercer's..."
"What will you give me for my silence?" She asked, levelly.
Brynjolf broke out into a grin. Surely it couldn't be this easy. Automatically, he reached out and pulled her to him, his arm around her waist, pressing her body into his. "I can think of several things," He purred, leaning down to press his mouth to hers...
...Only to, somehow, feel a huge wave of power hit him square in the chest. He went flying, soaring through the air; and as he hit the snow, hard, he was more dazed – and confused- than he'd been in quite a long time.
Well, at least he was right. It wasn't that easy.
When he finally shook himself out of the daze- groaning, and holding his ribs- he saw the firey red-head herself standing above him.
"Don't you think that was a little harsh, lass?" He wheezed.
"I will not be another notch in your bedpost, Brynjolf. I am not that kind of woman."
"In all fairness," He said, struggling to his feet, "I was offering to be a notch in your bed post. Your last hurrah before being married off to Future High King Stormcloak."
"Do you study the art of being insufferable?" She snapped. "Stop bringing that up!" The woman turned and strode away.
Brynjolf limped after her as best he could. It honestly wasn't hard to catch up to her, even limping. The woman was short and, thusly, had short legs...she was slow. "...I don't understand why you're so against it," He muttered, as he caught up to her.
"I'm against having a future forced onto me that I don't want."
"Well...what do you want, lass?"
"I already told you that."
Brynjolf pondered that. So she did. "...But what is freedom, to you?"
Gaella was silent. Brynjolf would have pressed, but he got the feeling that she was thinking, rather than being deliberately anti-social.
"Freedom is...being able to do what I want to do. When I want to do it."
It was a strange answer, and Brynjolf puzzled over it. "...Who are you, really, lass? Where did you come from, that gives you such views?"
"And who are you, really, and what gives you the idea that I have any inclination to tell you?"
He sighed. He supposed her distrust wasn't unwarranted. She didn't know anything about him, and, intentional or not, he'd broken his promise to her.
"...You know, Mercer tried to kill me too, Gaella." He said gently. "And if it weren't for Karliah, I'd be dead. I was out of commission. I didn't come for you because I was stuck bleeding atop Snow Veil sanctum."
"I figured it was something like that," Gaella said indifferently.
"...Speaking of Karliah," Brynjolf said, starting to get used to answers that really didn't make much sense, "...Why did you save me, and not her?"
"Karliah is the elf?"
"Aye."
"She got out of the way."
Brynjolf stumbled a little. "She...did?"
"Yes. She was very, very fast. I'd assume most in your trade are. She executed a perfect split-second roll. In fact, she noticed the cave-in before I did."
"That's a relief," Brynjolf said, and truly, he was relieved. He hadn't known Karliah long, but she seemed like a good woman. And, she had saved his life. He was still in her debt for that. What was Karliah doing now? Was she still trying to dig her way into that room with the statue? Had she tried to find another way in? Or had she simply given up and gone back to the guild?
He studied the girl in front of him, keeping behind her so he could watch her as he pleased, without her evil glare. He didn't know how long of a walk it would be, so he took the time to ponder. He found that after a while, he had memorized the exact curves of her body out of habit. He didn't mind the knowledge, but wondered that she had not turned around to protest, as surely one as attentive as her would feel his eyes on her body. Normally he paid attention to the bodies of others to find where they most likely hid their change-or, in more dangerous situations a dagger. He decided that if she had treasure, she'd probably keep it closer to eye-level. A breast pocket, maybe. Speaking of which...
"...What's in Mercer's pockets, lass?"
She didn't answer him, and he sighed. "Lass," He said, finally growing irritated, "You have something that I'm sworn to return."
"This?" She holds up the Key, the dark daedric artifact that could unlock anything...the artifact that Mercer had literally killed for.
"Yes!" He sighed in relief. "Now, just hand it here..."
"No."
Brynjolf blinked, and in doing so, missed where she hid it. "Damn it," He growled... "Don't think I won't come after it." And she'd like it, too, he thought smugly.
"Feel free," She said, waving a hand.
Brynjolf was just readying himself, when she said-
"But I'd advise against touching a woman who can set herself on fire at any given time."
He stopped then, and covered his face with his palm. Of course. She was a mage. How...then...could he get back this key? She was hard to talk to, and she didn't seem interested in being charmed. "...What do you want in return for the key, lass?"
"Let me think about it a little longer."
He groaned.
Oh, Gaella knew full well what she wanted in exchange. It was just funny to watch him suffer. The man was cute, and his face had this particular way of scrunching his face up when he was frustrated; this particular look in his eye when he knew he had been bested, however temporarily. She wondered if the man would finally give up on the game of wits and attempt to physically take the key from her after a while.
She was pleasantly surprised to find that he did not. Good. She had hoped he was as intelligent as he seemed.
It was quite a while before she located the vacated camp; the moon was already high in the sky, and she was exhausted. They had stopped, taken breaks...but it was still hours of walking.
"Finally," She heard him murmur from behind her. "Now, about that key..."
"Yes. I have a business proposition for you."
Brynjolf groaned.
"Oh, never mind, then. I'll keep it. I've always wanted a daedric artifact, anyway."
"Don't tease me anymore today, lass." Brynjolf said sharply. "...Did you get rid of the bodies?"
He stepped around her, inspecting the camp. Six tents... "...You killed six bandits?"
"Not exactly," Gaella said. "The giant up the road did. Anyway, about this deal.." She strides forward and sits in front of the logs, which had long ago burned out. She relights the logs with a simple spell, warming herself.
Brynjolf squinted at the girl, and then looked out into the distance, not answering.
"Teach me everything you know."
Brynjolf almost fell over in surprise. "What?" He turned his gaze back to her, and when she said nothing further, finally sat across from her, watching her.
Gaella knew he would react this way- who wouldn't? - and she smirked. "I want to join the Thieves' Guild. But I'm a lousy thief. I'm good at planning and I can steal small things just fine, but not without using my invisibility spell or a potion. I need help with that. And that's where you come in."
"So," Brynjolf muttered, "You're saying that you want me to teach you how to break the law and not get caught."
She grinned.
Brynjolf couldn't believe this girl. Furthermore, he couldn't believe just how naughty that grin was. It reminded him of a child who had purposely done something wrong, and was proud of it. He had to ask.
"Are you joking?"
"No," She said honestly.
Brynjolf studied her. He supposed he shouldn't be this surprised. She had already told him multiple times that she did not want to marry Ulfric, and this was a very convenientway of disappearing from under the radar. He probably would have even been able to predict her asking, if he hadn't been so distracted up to this point. But could he make her a good thief? "Have you ever stolen anything before, lass?"
"Yes. Quite a few things." Gaella actually looked sheepish.
"...Okay. What's the biggest thing you've ever stolen?"
"Umm..." Gaella thinks. "...A steak. ...No. A dress. …But it was a big steak. Oh, I don't remember. Either a dress or a steak."
He stared at her. "...Why the hell would you steal a steak?" He asked, in disbelief.
"Because I was hungry?" She answered, sarcastically.
He peered at her. "Spend some time on the streets?"
"Maybe. How is this relevant?"
"I need to know what I'm working with."
She sighed. "Yes."
"So. You stole food and clothing, and other necessities."
"Yes."
"Did you ever get caught?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"...A loy. But I could usually talk my way out of it."
A lot? By Nocturnal. Maybe he ought to let her hold onto that key after all. "...Talk your way out of it?"
"A poor, young, homeless girl on the streets stealing a single wheel of cheese isn't exactly something anyone wants to persecute."
"Homeless?"
"That's not relevant to my skills."
"Aye, lass. But there's no need to be so hostile. Really."
She glared at him for a second, then sighed, trying to relax. "I suppose you are right," She said. "This is more talking than I have done in months, however. Possibly longer."
"Is there any food around here?"
"Yeah. There's some scattered around the tents. Some cabbages, carrots, goat. Maybe a dead rabbit or two."
"I'll tell you what," Brynjolf said, standing up again. "I'm going to make some food for us. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me. But, given we're about to be spending quite a lot of time together...for an unknown amount of time...maybe you ought to start trusting me." And then he turned his back and went to forage through the tents for food.
Gaella looked down. She wanted to trust him; truly, she did. It was not that she believed, for a second, that he would betray her. She knew he was not that kind of man. She couldn't even place what, exactly, it was that she was afraid of.
So maybe she should stop being afraid of it.
He came back with the supplies and started about making use of the cooking spit.
"Ask what you want to ask," She said begrudgingly.
He looks up at her, meeting her eyes, but says nothing.
"I'm not promising I'll answer. But I won't be mad at you for asking," She adds hastily.
"Very well." Brynjolf looks back down to the pot, continuing to make the stew. "What were you, before you were a Stormcloak and the Dragonborn?"
"An Imperial prisoner."
He raised an eyebrow. "What were you imprisoned for?"
"Being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Come now, lass."
"I'm serious. I hopped the border from High Rock and ended up in the middle of an Imperial ambush. They assumed I was a Stormcloak even then, I suppose? Even though I'm a Breton? Actually, I don't know their reasoning. But they were going to kill me. I was at Helgen."
"You were..."
"Mhm."
"Well, then. Why Skyrim?"
"I owed someone a favor."
Brynjolf peered at her, wanting to ask more, but remembering part of this question-answer exchange was that she didn't have to volunteer more than she wanted to. "Okay. Is Gaella your real name?"
"No."
"What is your real name?"
"I don't wish to share it."
"Why not?"
"Because it ties me to someone I no longer wish to be tied to."
Brynjolf ran his eyes over her face, once again realizing that she was young. So much younger than he thought. It was easy to forget that when he talked to her. "How old are you, lass?"
"I don't know."
"...You...don't know? How exactly does one forget?"
"I didn't forget. I just stopped keeping track a long, long time ago."
Interesting. "You're an adult...?" Of course, she certainly looked like an an adult, but you never knew with women.
"Yes," Gaella said, and bit back the insult that reared up on her tongue.
"...How long have you been an adult?"
"Ever since I care to remember."
"...You're a runaway." He finally realized it. It made a lot more sense now; these cryptic answers; someone she didn't wish to be tied to; hopping the border. She had been an adult for several years...he ran his eyes over her face again. Twenty-three, he decided.
"So what?"
"It just makes a lot more sense now. Relax..."
Gaella relaxed a little.
"I think you're around your early twenties. Maybe twenty-three."
"Something like that." She shrugged indifferently. "What else?"
"Were you a runaway before or after you were an adult?"
"Technically, a few hours before I became one."
"Why?"
Gaella looked at him then, and Brynjolf felt bad. He had promised himself he wasn't going to push, but...he met her eyes. He so desperately wanted to know.
"Because someone finally set me free, and that's really all I want to say about it, Brynjolf."
He sighed for the thousandth time. More cryptic answers, more puzzles! This girl was driving him mad. Any girl like this usually did, but it was worse now that he knew he was going to have to be in her company for an indeterminate amount of time... "Fine, lass. Just..." He looked down at the soup he was cooking, and it was good he did, because it had started burning . He carefully put the pot down in the snow. "...Just eat some soup, and rest up. We'll leave tomorrow." He grabbed two bowls and poured the soup into them, placing one bowl next to her and sat, turning to his own.
He supposed he ought to have cared a little more about his manners, but he was starving. Come to think about it, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. He went through one bowl of soup in record time, and poured himself another; and finished that, too, before he was even a little bit full. He was in the process of pouring a third bowl when she realized she hadn't even touched hers, and was watching him with an appalled expression on her face. He grinned, wiping his beard on his sleeve. "Get used to it, lass. That's the kind of company you're going to be in for a while. Besides. I can't remember the last time I've eaten, and I'm starving. You ought to eat yours, too. Before it freezes."
She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."
"Suit yourself." Brynjolf polished off his third bowl of soup, and then picked a random tent and went into it, laying down to sleep. She was so determined to stay closed and quiet, and every attempt he made to pry was met with an angry push back. He was giving up tonight. He was tired, sore, and he didn't even want to think about all the things he would have to explain to the guild when he got back. Not to mention that they had to find a new guild leader...
No. He was not going to think about that tonight.
He closed his eyes, but he just couldn't get to sleep. The worries on his mind were too numerous: how would he explain Gaella to everyone? How would he get them to approve? Who was going to lead them now that Mercer was gone? Where would Karliah fit into the guild? Would Nocturnal be angry at him if he didn't get the key back right away? Could Karliah take it back to the Sepulcher instead of him? ….Could he pick the key off the girl while she slept? That would solve two problems: for one, she would no longer have that leverage over him; and two, he'd have the key back. Maybe then she could be convinced to go and hide somewhere else.
...But did he want that?
In truth, as frustrated as he was with her, he'd come to like the girl. She was smart, perceptive, and strong. He didn't necessarily want her out of his company just yet. But...the risks outweighed the benefits. The guild would be in danger if she stayed, and what if she never gave him the key- or she lost it...no. He would have to pickpocket her while she slept.
With that thought, he pretended to be asleep, and waited for the girl to lie down herself.
Gaella knew he was up to something.
Trust him, he says, Gaella thought, bullshit. Not that she didn't think he'd keep his word- oh, no. She was sure he would do that. But she didn't trust him not to try and get the key while she was sleeping. She finished her soup, slowly, wondering where to slip the key, so that when he went for it, it would wake her up, without a doubt.
Then, she got a great idea...and grinned wickedly.
It seemed that she had finally fallen asleep. Brynjolf quietly sat up. He had almost fallen asleep himself, and he was still in a bit of a daze. Standing up, he crouched, and shook his head to clear it. He crept over to her tent and stood, heart hammering, over her sleeping body.
Now...where had she hidden it.
He knew she wasn't stupid, and wouldn't have left it in her bags. Likely, she'd hidden it in one of Mercer's many pockets. His fingers were trembling as he started down at her thigh. He was so close to her skin, he thought, as his nimble fingers picked through the pockets there and found nothing. He had to focus. He wasn't trying to seduce her – this time. Maybe he'd try again when he was a little more receptive to being thrown 30 feet away. He moved his hands up to the pockets at her hips, his eyes on her face.
He couldn't help but marvel how peaceful she looked in sleep. Her wild mane of hair spread around her like a tangled web. Her skin was tanned, but not natural- the kind of tan one gets from spending too much time in the sun. He wondered if she was naturally pale.
He winced, realizing his hands had been lingering in her hip pockets even though they, too, were empty. He moved his hands up to the pockets on the stomach, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. Please let them be here...
Oh, good! There WAS something in there...he drew his hands out, holding two huge, flawlessly cut gems. The eyes of the Falmer! Great! He quickly pocketed those, and, feeling more confident, returned his hands to those pockets again, though this time, they were empty.
And then his confidence was gone, because the only pockets left...
...Were right on her breasts.
Gods help me, Brynjolf thought. Not that he didn't want to touch her breasts. Moreso, he didn't want to do it without her permission. And he especially didn't want her to wake up while he was doing this. She'd destroy him. He knew that for a fact. While he wasn't a "traditional" Nord and didn't pay much attention to the legends, he knew the powers of a Dragonborn- which the girl was. And he'd felt them firsthand, when she propelled him off of her this afternoon.
He could give up. Walk away.
No...he couldn't. He inched forward, now eyeing the pockets on her bust. He couldn't help eyeing the bust itself, either, and he felt his heart rate increase even more. Couldn't help the desire coursing through his body. He ignored it. He had gone through all of her other pockets without any trouble. Surely this wouldn't be a big deal. He took in a deep breath and held it, and reached into the pockets as lightly and gently as he could possibly manage. He quickly found the key, and was just about ready to cry in victory...
...When he suddenly found himself horizontal, and on top of the woman. He was momentarily stunned, and it took him a few seconds to register her soft, warm, curvaceous body underneath his.
..By the gods. It had never felt so sweet to be caught. He looked up at the woman, only to find her staring at him...with...a strange look. He had expected anger, hatred, or some other negative emotion. Pain? But that look was none of these, and until she reached back to the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers, he was trying to figure it out.
Of course that was instantly forgotten as she kissed him. It took his mind longer to react than his body; instantly he found himself straddling her hips, putting his hands to either side of her head as he kissed her back, firmly, the desire he had forced down before now raging within him. He growled into her lips as he felt her hands wandering his body, unbidden- arched his back as she dug her nails in. He felt his head spinning with the suddenness of it all, felt his breathing going ragged as he gave her the same treatment, his hands exploring the curves of her body as he longed to do. He fumbled for her zipper, undoing it, and immediately planting kisses on every inch of smooth skin exposed underneath...
Or at least...that had been his plan. Before he could even move that zipper, her hand on his wrist stopped him. Her other hand painfully gripped his hair and pulled him back away from her face...and he realized...
"Predictable," She grunted at him. "Now get off me, stupid."
She let go of his hands and pushed him, sitting up at the same time, and he rolled back, landing on his rump outside her tent. He was absolutely baffled, completely hot and bothered, and unbelievably angry. "What...?"
"By the way," She said, and held up the gems he had stolen, a self-confident smirk on her face. "If you wanted one, you only had to ask."
When she tossed it to him, it hit him in his chest. He was too dumbstruck to catch it. "You pickpocketed me..?" He asked in disbelief.
"You deserved it," She said honestly.
He decided, then, that he couldn't be mad. In fact, the opposite. He was pleased. He laughed uproariously, holding his gut. "You're something else, lass. Really something else."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. Now don't try that again. If you really want the key that bad...I'll give it to you when you get me into the guild. If, on your honor, you promise that you will still honor our deal."
Brynjolf met her eyes then- and he could still feel her lips on his. So soft, but so rough at the same time- her hands, wanting...or so he'd thought. Was she really that good an actress? "I promise, lass. If you do."
"I promise. Now, go back to sleep." And with that, she laid down again, shifting a little to get comfortable.
He watched her for a little while longer, before standing up and heading to his tent. He shook his head. What a strange woman, he thought, crawling under the furs.
And then he was instantly asleep.