A/N: Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I've been busy with RL, and the muse wouldn't cooperate at all. Thanks to Biff McLaughlin and Zute for the love and support! And thank you to all the readers, the reviewers, and those who faved and alerted this story. Please leave a comment. They make me happy.

When we last left Natasja, she had been saved by Karliah at Snow Veil and then sent her horse back to Riften with a message for Brynjolf. Now he knows she's alive, but he does not understand why Mercer lied. Delvin was to set off for Snow Veil Sanctum looking for clues. Onward….

Betrayal and Beyond

It's awfully quiet in the Flagon tonight. Damn it, I can barely see. Vekel really needs to get some more torches in here, although it's not like this place could ever seem romantic in the traditional sense. Then we'd see what's actually growing in here. Ew, what a horrifying thought. Oh, there's Bryn at the bar, and he looks… too damned happy! Doesn't he miss me at all? And why doesn't he see me? Maybe if I wave. Over here, Brynjolf! Hey, is that…? Why is Mercer here? He never drinks with us. Figures Mercer likes that nasty Shadowbanish wine and he's grinning like ... No ... Bryn, no! Don't drink it!

"Bryn!" Natasja awoke in a cold sweat, the sheet twisted around her in knots.

"Easy, Natasja." Karliah's gentle voice calmed Natasja as the Dunmer held her hand and wiped her forehead with a cloth. "It was just a dream."

"A dream?" Natasja looked at her with anxious eyes; the dream did not make her fears any less real. "I have to… have to go back to Riften. Brynjolf's in danger."

It seems she loves him more than she lets on, Karliah thought. "We are leaving Winterhold for Markarth once the sun is up."

"Gods… Markarth. I forgot." Her eyes closed at the thought. "All right, so let's leave now. The sooner this translation is done, the sooner I can go back home."

"It's not quite daybreak, Natasja. Another hour and then we'll leave. Rest now." Karliah looked away, thinking about what Natasja said. "So… you consider Riften your home?"

"Didn't you when you were part of the Guild?" Sitting up slowly, Natasja rubbed her eyes, dispelling the nightmare as best she could.

"In a sense. Gallus was my home, and wherever he was, I felt at ease. But as I told you earlier, I had also pledged my life to Nocturnal as a Nightingale." A sad smile spread across Karliah's lips. "Loving Gallus was a mistake."

Natasja gave her a quizzical look but kept her tone even. "You regret your involvement with him?"

Karliah wanted to be honest with Natasja, wanted to be a friend to her, but she wasn't sure whether she could completely trust her yet. Maybe a private discussion such as this would be of value. "I regret not being able to save Gallus," she said, sadly, "and I very much regret not being able to make Mercer pay for his betrayal at the time. But the happiest years of my life were spent by Gallus's side. I will never regret loving him. I wanted to die the day I found him... l think a part of me did die that day, the part of me that was full of hope and tenderness. Everything was dead and empty for a long time afterward."

With glistening eyes, Natasja held Karliah's gaze for a moment, and then hung her head. "I've never known love like that before."

"Before now, you mean?" As Natasja nodded her head twice, Karliah smiled sweetly, knowingly, the blush on Natasja's cheeks giving away the truth.

"I wasn't looking for it," Natasja said, a subtle fear in her eyes. "I just wanted companionship, some peace before…." She paused with thoughts of the Dragonborn mantle. Not the time to share that with Karliah. "Well, the Guild offered money and excitement and the kind of family I never had in the past."

"And so you think love and commitment won't work well together in our line of business," Karliah said, shaking her head in rejection of the notion.

"Brynjolf told me that once, but I didn't believe him. Maybe he was right." An unexpected comfort and calm washed over Natasja as she looked at Karliah. It was as if she had read Natasja's mind all along, knowing her as if they had been close friends for years.

"Brynjolf has had his share of sorrows, but he's been around long enough not to believe that." Karliah shifted a little closer to her. "As I remember him, he is a truthful and caring man."

"He is," Natasja agreed. "I just don't know if he genuinely wants a life with me or not. And even if he did, I'm not so sure I can give it to him."

"Don't turn love away if you've found it," Karliah urged. "We only live so long."

"But you said loving Gallus was a mistake?"

"Hiding away and closing your heart to all feeling, living in dread of losing someone you care about and running away from love… that seems a poor alternative." Wistfulness clouded Karliah's violet eyes. "You feel the desire, the fear and anxiety, and the pleasure, all weaved together, so the two people become one, and then there are no boundaries. It is a fear worse than death at times, but life is always full of risks."

Natasja sighed. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple." Karliah's head was still cocked to the side and her brows fully pinched in consideration. "It only seems complicated to the ignorant, to those who won't allow themselves to revel in it." She smiled then, patting Natasja's arm soothingly. "But I think you know this already. Can you imagine your life without Brynjolf in it?"

Natasja frowned. "It is true, I do miss him more than I thought I would." Tears brimmed in her eyes; the thought of being away from him for several more weeks was agonizing. The mere sound of his voice brought her calm. Except for this moment with Karliah, she had little peace now, only questions and fears. Natasja looked at Karliah's serene face and wondered how she had ever survived losing Gallus. "I thought I was used to the emptiness, the voids in my life. But since I've known him, my life has taken a new turn, like I've finally found a family, a home. And to live without that now? No. That would surely end me."

"Then you have the answer. Mistakes open doors to possibilities we would otherwise never have known existed. A life without mistakes, while being perfect, would be incredibly boring and meaningless." Natasja nodded slowly and thoughtfully. "Well, I think that's enough philosophical discussion for now. Since you're awake, we might as well gather our things and prepare to leave. I've secured the wagon to take us to Markarth. Hopefully, we will not have to remain there long."

Karliah moved to stand, but Natasja pulled her close and hugged her tightly as she whispered. "Thank you, Karliah. I can understand why Gallus felt so calm and contented by your side. You are… very soothing, your voice as well as your wisdom."

Natasja smiled at the older, wiser woman, hoping Karliah would remain her friend, her confidant, and maybe even a mentor of sorts for as long as the gods allowed. And maybe over the next few weeks she could hone her archery skills, too. Make the best of it, she told herself. And Stendarr help those who keep me from getting back to Riften swiftly.

The travelling eased Delvin's mind. He was taking control rather than being a victim of circumstance. More importantly, he was travelling to find information about the woman his friend loved; a woman Delvin himself had grown quite fond of. Delvin and the mercenaries rode through the night, their horses' pounding hooves eating up the miles, one mercenary at point, and the other behind Delvin. When they arrived in Windhelm, they spent half the day settling old scores in town and the other half getting their rivals, the Summerset Shadows, in line. Later that night, Delvin found himself in the company of not one, but two rich widows who were more than happy to attend to his needs.

When the sun rose the next morning, Delvin and his mercenaries headed for Snow Veil. Upon arrival, there was no trace of Natasja, although he did find the remains of a horse and an encampment, presumably Karliah's. They were half way to Winterhold at that point, and Delvin decided there was a fair chance Natasja and Karliah would have gone to the city to seek healing.

Once in Winterhold, Delvin went straight to the Frozen Hearth, the only inn in the town. Surely, it was the one place he could get information. The heat and clamor from inside the tavern assaulted Delvin with the force of a fire spell as he yanked open the heavy wooden door. He approached the proprietor, who at that moment was rearranging the knick-knacks on the counter.

"I'm lookin' to rent a room tonight," Delvin said with a smile. "Got any?"

"Sure. Name's Haran," he said, nodding. "It'll be ten septims for the night."

"Nice place ya' have here, Haran. Warm and inviting."

"I like to think so. Most of Winterhold washed away years ago. Money comes in from the mages up at the College now. If you ask me," Haran leaned in and whispered, "I think them mages would be happy to take over the whole town. I wager they will in time."

"Mages are funny like that, eh?" Delvin offered. "Can't trust any of 'em."

Haran nodded, happy to have a kindred spirit agreeing with him. "You and me ought to have a drink later, friend."

"Aye, let's do that." With a sly smirk, Delvin slid twenty gold pieces toward the man. "I'm searchin' for a woman, an associate of mine. Tall, fair-haired Nord with a firm ass and a nice rack, lots of scars. I'm thinkin' she's been in Winterhold recently. She might have been injured too."

"I may have seen someone matching that description, and I may not have. My vision gets clouded from time to time."

Can't fault him for wantin' a little something extra, Delvin thought. "Will this jog your memory?" he asked, sliding some more gold pieces across the counter.

Haran stuffed the gold straight into his pocket with a grin. "She was here, and she was wounded. Had to send for a healer up at the College. No shortage of coin on the elf she was with either. That Dunmer hired a wagon to take them to Markarth."

"A Dunmer? A Dunmer woman?" The man nodded. "Did you happen to notice the color of her eyes?"

"Yeah, they were violet. Not bloody red like the rest of them."

This is getting interestin'. "Went to Markarth, you say. That's quite a ways." Delvin couldn't go to Markarth, but this was a telling sign, perhaps an ominous sign. "And these two women were friendly with each other? The Nord wasn't made to leave against her will or anything?"

"Not that I could tell. The Dunmer watched over her all night, made sure she was healing up. When they left, they seemed like old friends, laughing and blathering on about nothing like women tend to do."

For some reason, Natasja befriended Karliah and headed for Markarth. Would that be the last the Guild ever saw of Natasja and Karliah? "Anything else you overheard? Like why they were headed to Markarth?"

"I can't really say. The only thing I heard was a conversation they had with a Bosmer mage. Something about translating the old Falmer language. The Dunmer woman and the mage were hunched over a book of some sort for over an hour."

"Seems you've heard quite a bit," Delvin drawled. "Is there anything else I should know, friend?" Delvin's voice carried more threat this time, eager to get back to Riften and tell Brynjolf the news.

"That's the lot of it." Delvin held out some more money, then quickly closed his fingers around the coins. "You can give me that coin, but I've no more information for you."

Delvin slipped him the coin anyway. "All right. Thanks. You've never seen me, friend."

"Never."

The hour would afford Delvin little time before sunset, but he had to get back to Brynjolf and make some sense of his discoveries. He left the inn, whistling to one of the mercenaries to fetch the horses. "Back to Riften, Jora!"

The mercenary groaned, all his carnal plans for the evening blown away with the frosty air whipping down the path to Riften.

Natasja and Karliah's time spent in Markarth was successful, and the two women became fast friends, trading stories, joking, and relaxing in between their efforts to have Gallus' journal translated. Natasja worked on her archery skills and Karliah thought she had the ability to be just as accomplished as she was, maybe even more. Their friendship forged quickly over the days, but it was strong, built on honesty and deeper need for companionship than either one of them had realized they both needed. Now, several weeks later, they arrived at the Riften stables as the shadows of late afternoon began to spread across the land.

"Hello! Anyone here?" Natasja shouted breathlessly, her eyes searching the stable for Saturnalia. "Shadr!"

"What's all the ruckus?" Shadr appeared from behind the stalls, feeding buckets hanging from his hands. "Oh, it's you. Where've you been lately?"

"Has my horse returned?" Natasja asked, anxiously.

"I haven't seen her. The only horses here are those two dappled-grays and Brynjolf's horse, Hammersteed."

Natasja's heart sank. Saturnalia wasn't there, probably dead, and Brynjolf none the wiser. As always, peace was so near, yet impossibly distant.

Trying to maintain her composure, Natasja directed Karliah to head for the cemetery and make herself scarce while Natasja headed for The Bee and Barb, practically sprinting the entire way. The tavern was not busy when she pushed open the door, the supper hour not yet having arrived. Sapphire was milling around as usual, waiting for something exciting to happen, but it never did, unless she counted the occasional grope by a drunkard, which always ended in a bar brawl.

Natasja approached her cautiously, but wore a friendly smile. "How are you, Sapphire?"

Eyeing Natasja warily, she asked, "Do I know you?"

"All right, Sapphire. Get it off you chest if you have to."

"You're damn lucky Delvin came back from Winterhold with news of you or I'd have cut you down the second you walked in here!"

Surprised by this, Natasja ignored the intensity of Sapphire's angry outburst. "Del was in Winterhold?"

"Searching for your ass. He said you were travelling with that traitorous bitch. So are you?"

"Everything will make perfect sense when you hear what I've uncovered about Mercer," Natasja asserted. "Has he been around?"

"He's been gone for over a week. Delvin figured Mercer tried to kill you. Is it true?" Natasja nodded somberly. "Well, I'd say you owe Del anyway."

"I'd say you're right. And I will make it up to him, to everyone. But first, I need you to get this note to Brynjolf."

"And why should I?"

"Because I asked you to. It's critical to the Guild, Sapphire. Do you really want to be without a livelihood?" Natasja put on her most diplomatic face and inched closer. "Please take this to Bryn, and tell him to hurry and meet me at the Shrine of Talos in the cemetery."

"Fine. But now you owe me." Natasja delved into the small sack purse she kept on her belt and rummaged around. Producing three large and flawless sapphires, she handed them to her fellow Guild member. "These are remarkable. I've never seen anything like them," she whispered, then stopped herself from seeming too appreciative. "Well, thanks then."

She flung open the doors, leaving Natasja laughing and feeling quite smug. I'll break her shell yet.

Staring at the Shrine of Talos, Natasja thought to pray for guidance and strength, to pray for happiness and healing, for some semblance of peace in her life. Brynjolf was the man who offered that peace, his mere presence a reassuring source of solace. She couldn't wait to see him, to tell him all that had happened between Snow Veil and Markarth, to watch his smile transform his face over something she'd said. She loved to see him smile, to see his eyes light up, banishing the weary isolation she saw too often in his gaze. The desire to see him, to touch him ... She was practically trembling with needs. But her eager anticipation was tempered by mounting anxiety.

What if he's angry with me? What if he's lost interest and found another these last weeks? He did blow me off before I left. What if he-

"Don't tell me you've found religion, lass."

"Brynjolf…." His name came out as a breathy sigh. Before Natasja turned around, she closed her eyes and said a prayer this time. Turning slowly to face him, she looked at him, and she didn't know whether to hug him or hit him. In the end, she did neither.

"Good to see you in one piece, Natasja." He appraised her quickly, noting her weight loss, her face more gaunt than before. She just stared at him, entranced. "Are you all right? Say something, or I'll have to slap you." Then he laughed, with an abandoned and booming laugh, like the laugh of a boy who was completely tickled. Right then, her knees went weak and her arms wrapped around him.

Brynjolf chuckled softly, holding her steady with strong arms. When he pulled his head back to examine her again, he kissed her. The kiss was chaste, but the feel of his lips on hers, the firmness of his body resting lightly against her, the scent of his skin and the touch of his rough hand against her cheek almost stopped her heart. "Just like I remembered, lass."

"It hasn't been that long, has it?" The soft and achingly tender kiss had left her off-kilter as they parted, but she smiled and poked his arm anyway.

"Long enough." They slipped back into their easy familiarity without a moment's thought, and she gave him a warm smile that gave him thrilling shiver. "But why meet here?"

Her gaze gave away nothing, and she was just about to speak up when Priestess Nura cleared her throat loudly. Natasja and Brynjolf separated further, begrudgingly remembering they were standing near a place of worship.

"Bryn, I… It's so good to see you. I was worried Mercer would hurt you… or worse."

"Mercer had no idea about Saturnalia's return. I sent her to Merryfair Farm for safe keeping."

"She wasn't hurt at all?" He shook his head. "Amazing."

"Aye. Anyway, Mercer has been gone for many days now. No one knows where he went. Did Sapphire tell you that Del went to Winterhold looking for you?"

"Yes, and now I owe Delvin, too, it seems."

"He was more than happy to leave Riften for a while. He won't want any payback."

"I'm still going to find a way to make it up to him."

When she smiled at Brynjolf again, his heart missed a beat. What a beautiful woman, he thought. I have missed her. His heart was soaring, and he couldn't wait until he could tell her how he deeply he felt for her, how he loved her. But there were a few items to iron out before they were alone. For now, he would give her a glimpse inside his heart. "When I thought you were dead ... all the things we never said to each other ... Well, I was relieved to see your horse with a message for me."

Brynjolf held her gaze, and it was as if he held secret information about something. What was that in his eyes? Humor? No, but there was something there, an intensity. His eyes were filled with meaning and questions. Something had changed.

My journal!

"You read my journal, didn't you?" There was no accusation in her voice, but she looked nervous and intimidated.

"I did. I wanted something to remember you by. It was not my intention to-"

"It's all right, Bryn. I should have told you most of that already anyway. Once this mess with Mercer is cleared up, I'll…." she stopped and looked away.

"You'll what? Don't run away from me, lass. We've much to discuss," he said, hopefully. "And just to be clear, I'm not going to keep you here against your will, but I'd prefer if you stay in Riften... permanently."

The tickle in her stomach shot straight to her heart. Gods help her, but she wanted to stay with him more than she'd wanted anything in years. "Let's see how things go," she said, pushing strands of hair behind her ear. "We'll talk it out later."

"We will, and I apologize now for my… lack of understanding before you left. We should get back to the Cistern. Shrines are not a place I care to linger." He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Too much… mumbling and chanting. I think Nura frowns upon our loose morals, too."

"Speak for yourself, thief. My morals are not loose."

"Well, some of mine are rather deficient. But we can… explore those later." The look in his eyes at that moment was so curious, so full with a glow of inner delight, she nearly whimpered. Under any other circumstance, she would have jumped him. Business first... "There's someone you need to meet before we go." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for his reaction. Natasja looked over her shoulder and waved to Karliah.

"What is she doing here?" Brynjolf stepped forward and grabbed Natasja's arm, his lungs squeezed empty in the process. "You better have a damn compelling reason for bringing her to Riften, lass."

His voice sounded a tad too threatening for Natasja's liking. "She saved my life, Bryn. You have to trust me," she snapped," and please, show her some respect."

"She doesn't deserve my respect! She killed our former Guild Master. Don't ask me to-"

"Just hear us out," Natasja cut him off. "It's not what you think."

"Brynjolf." Karliah stepped forward. "There is much you do not know about. Read this and then judge me."

"What is this?" he demanded, flipping the pages roughly. "This is… Gallus was spying on Mercer… I can't believe this… what was Mercer... Sweet Divines, this is mind-boggling." Brynjolf hung his head, distressed by the words he read. His jaw clenched and his shoulders stiffened as he passed the journal back to Karliah. "Mercer, that snake! He's been stealing from the Guild, and he killed Gallus? I will rip his heart out with my bare hands! "

"And you've got us to help with that," Natasja said.

"I encouraged you to go with him! The man cared nothing for me, for any of us." A sudden guilt tore at him. "Karliah, the years we've spent slandering your name. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Natasja said with a gentle hand on his arm. "He was a manipulator, a greedy bastard, and no one could have seen this coming."

Karliah stepped closer. "Natasja is right, Brynjolf. For all these years I've been on the run, the only one I truly blamed was Mercer, not the Guild."

Brynjolf shook his head, reigning in his rage and replacing it with pragmatism. "This is more of a disaster than I could have imagined. We have to formulate a plan and find Mercer, but first we have to get back and check the vault. I have a sinking feeling the Thieves Guild is now bankrupt."