A/N: So sorry for the delay with this chapter. Life has been keeping me too busy. Many thanks to everyone who has faved, followed, and reviewed. The continued interest in this story is very humbling. I truly appreciate it. Hugs to my buds, Biff and Zute. (Zute, I stole your idea about changing the words in a Skyrim song!)

Recap of the last chapter: When we last left the Thieves Guild, Brynjolf and Natasja had discovered Mercer's plans to take the Eyes of the Falmer and the Skeleton Key. Assuming Mercer would disappear quickly, they headed back to tell Karliah the news, but Karliah was on watch in the cemetery, due back within the half hour. Brynjolf took Natasja back to his room to have a heart-to-heart and just as he was about to say something quite meaningful, Karliah interrupted their reunion, pounding on the door to Brynjolf's room.

Loyalty and Love

"Brynjolf!" Karliah shouted, much louder than Natasja thought she could raise her lilting voice.

"Gods, her timing couldn't be worse." Brynjolf looked at Natasja, restlessness mixed with anger on his face. He stood up, taking her hand in his firmly. "We'll finish this conversation after we tell her everything."

Natasja eyed her empty tankard, keeping the scathing commentary rising in her throat at bay. "I could use another drink anyway," she said before yanking her hand away from his grasp. His eyes narrowed for a brief moment, and she looked away, the sting of disappointment churning her stomach.

Karliah burst into the room as Brynjolf opened the door, a little whirlwind of energy rushing past him. "Did you find Mercer's plans? Tell me you did."

"Aye." Snatching the map off a table, he flipped it open and handed it to Karliah.

Her mouth opened slowly, then closed, her face turning ghostly white. "This was Gallus's dream." Still staring at the map, she remained silent, keeping her mouth firmly shut for a long moment. "We should head to Irkngthand as soon as possible, before our luck runs out completely, but," she paused, her eyes filled with unease, "we must meet him on equal footing. As a Nightingale, his powers are more or less equal to mine, but with Nocturnal's Key in his possession, he may be invincible. There is no way of knowing exactly how he's been influenced, but I promise you, he's used the Key to its fullest advantage."

"So we take along others to help," Natasja said, as if it were the logical option.

"No," Karliah said sharply. "We cannot risk losing any members of the Guild, and mercenaries will only spread talk of the Nightingales' existence. We three need to handle this on our own."

"Who cares if Nocturnal's existence is known?" Natasja said. "Whatever it takes to help us finish off Mercer."

"We cannot toy with Nocturnal. She will be… most unpleasant if we do."

While Natasja mumbled expletives, Brynjolf crossed his arms over his chest, clutching his upper arms tightly. "You have a plan, Karliah?"

"I do." Karliah eyed them both, knowing her impending appeal would be questioned, if not scorned. "I want you both to come with me to Nightingale Hall. It's just south of Riften, by the Shadow Stone. You know where it is, right, Brynjolf?"

"I do, but what is there in Nightingale Hall that will help us? Enchanted weapons and armor? Because if that's all you've got, things aren't looking any brighter to me." With the size of his room only affording him a few steps in each direction, he paced the floor and fought against the exasperation he didn't want to feel.

"You want Mercer dead, and I need to return the Key to Nocturnal. The only way to do both is for you and Natasja to become Nightingales. Nocturnal must be at our backs if we are to defeat Mercer."

"Oh no," Natasja countered, waving her hands in front of her. "Absolutely not. I will not be obligated to any Daedric prince. I'm sorry, Karliah, but that is out of the question."

A niggling voice in the back of Brynjolf's mind told him Karliah was correct in her assessment of Mercer as well as the need for more backup from Nocturnal. Being a plaything for the Daedra held no interest for Brynjolf either, but he was willing to hear Karliah out, even as sourness rose in his gut while he stared at Natasja's defiant expression. "Lass, don't be so quick to dismiss Karliah's plan. You've seen how our luck has changed for the worse lately."

"Natasja, you must listen to reason," Karliah implored as Natasja's head shook vehemently. "You cannot survive a fight with Mercer otherwise."

"Lass, just hear her out," he pressed. "Why are you so against this without hearing the facts?"

With both of them harping on her, all she craved was peace, silence, and solitude, the life she had before arriving in Riften, that lonely, desolate life she led before Brynjolf and the Guild influenced her daily actions and emotions. Brynjolf, why are you doing this to me? She didn't want to make explanations because she had no explanations herself, only repressed, half-formed fears. "I know how this will go, Bryn. I refuse to deal with the Daedra. You have no idea what they are all about, the control they seek."

"You say that as if you've had some experiences with Daedra before," Karliah said.

Natasja quirked her lips and ignored her. In truth, she'd had no run-ins with Daedra, but it was a convenient excuse for not wanting to become a Nightingale. The crazy idea warred with her sanity, and she wasn't sure why. She and Brynjolf already handled their weapons with dexterity and fierceness, with inspired accuracy, unerring every time. But Brynjolf was bound to possess an even more arrogant sureness after he was imbued with Nocturnal's powers, arrogance that would make him take more risks, deadly risks. The thought sent shivers down her spine.

She looked at his face, tense with concern, but he dropped his eyes and said nothing. Then she waited uneasily, not knowing what to say or do next.

"Is it true, Karliah?" Brynjolf asked. "Are they nothing but controlling demons of darkness? That's what the tales I've heard make most of them out to be."

"Now you sound like an old fish wife, Bryn. Nocturnal is more like a scolding mother who pushes her child to do better."

"One scolding mother was enough for me," Brynjolf said. "You're asking a lot here, lass."

"You don't know the half of it," Natasja scoffed.

"Not all Daedra are malevolent," Karliah asserted. "Some are here to help, to give us strength when all is hopeless. Nocturnal is one such prince. Her unknowable nature is the essence of her being, but it serves no real ulterior purposes beyond being mysterious."

"I deal with danger in a straightforward manner, lass, not secrecy. I'm not too keen on this idea. " He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "What does becoming a Nightingale entail? If it's only some aid in the form of Nocturnal's powers, that's fine. But I'm sure she'll want something in return."

"If she will accept you both as one of her own, in return, you must serve her in life, and in death, as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Ah, there's the catch," Brynjolf muttered.

Natasja's mind raced. Surely she and Karliah could handle Mercer without Brynjolf if she agreed to become a Nightingale. A ridiculous plan to knock him out and send him off on a cart bound for Markham flitted through her head. But the idea crashed in a fiery explosion and gave way to an encroaching headache. Brynjolf would never forgive her, of course, but the real reason for her ambivalence lay in her heart; she could never take the satisfaction and retribution of killing Mercer away from the man she loved, and yet she feared for his life should he become a Nightingale. It was irrational and confusing, and she hated to think of the excessive confidence Brynjolf would have afterward. Only one thing was certain—swearing allegiance to Nocturnal would change everything. And she hated change.

"We need to hurry if we are to stop Mercer. Will you both agree to become Nightingales?"

Natasja's anguish channeled to her hands, clenching them once before slashing one through the air. "I said no and I meant it, Karliah. I'll fight Mercer with the skills that have kept me alive this long, Nocturnal be damned. Right, Bryn?"

"That would be suicide," Karliah shot back before he could respond, something akin to relief crossing his features. "As it is, we're very likely to fail even if we all fight Mercer as Nightingales. Nocturnal's backing is no guarantee for our safety, but it will give us a reasonable edge."

"Just an edge? That's all we get for pledging ourselves to Nocturnal?" Natasja met her gaze with a hard stare, mulling over every word Karliah had said since entering the room, remembering every guarded emotion that ghosted across her face. Gods…. "This is far more dangerous than you're letting on. You're not confident we'll all make it out alive, are you?"

"This fight will be unlike any you've experienced, Natasja. Irkngthand is an ancient ruin, full of Falmer and other deadly creatures, traps and toxins." Tired of Natasja's flip remarks, Karliah moved to stand toe to toe with her. "If we get past all that and reach Mercer without any injuries, it will be surprising. If we take him down without one of us dying in the process, it will be a miracle. Does that answer your question?"

Natasja struggled to calm herself as panic seized her lungs. "There must be another way then. We should bring an army if that's what it takes."

"Nocturnal will not allow it. Aren't you listening to me? If we let outsiders join us, she will turn her back on the entire matter and find another way to get the Key."

"Oh, so what was once a meddling mother is actually a vain and merciless Daedra, as I suspected. I will not be a party to her particular brand of help, thank you very much."

Karliah's voice choked with emotion as she made her last plea. "Natasja, listen to me. Nocturnal is responsible for the successes and the failures of this Guild. Your childish ignorance and foolish pride may cause the Thieves Guild to fall to ruin. I know you understand what's at stake here, but I cannot comprehend why you are being so stubborn." Karliah leaned in, her mouth next to Natasja's ear. "If not for me or the Guild, do it for him. Don't abandon him, or you will regret it forever."

Natasja shuddered. Intimating that she was abandoning Brynjolf as Karliah thought she had abandoned Gallus was a cheap trick, but one she felt compelled to use. The only thing keeping Karliah's temper in check now was knowing Brynjolf had some influence over his lover. Hopefully, he would make her see reason.

"Are you prepared to take the oath, Brynjolf?"

"I don't see how I have any other choice here."

Natasja's heart hit the floor. The odds of her being able to change his mind were now slim to none, but she had to try one last time before accepting Karliah's plan.

"Good. And you, Natasja? Is there anything more I can say to change your mind?"

Natasja shook her head, unable to utter a word. She sighed when Karliah's eyes dimmed, as though a light faded in her soul. "I am sorry, Karliah," she whispered.

"I'm not the one who should be on the receiving end of your apologies." She cast her gaze upon Brynjolf, sorrow running deep in her violet eyes. "Brynjolf, please try to talk some sense into her. I'll be waiting for you outside."

The door closed quietly, leaving Natasja to feel like an admonished child. "Don't even try to make me change my mi-" Her insistence was cut off by a heated kiss, his arms squeezing her so tightly she could barely draw a breath. The kiss was lingering, pensive, as if he were leaving for good, for the infinite beyond.

"You are free to refuse Karliah's offer, but I will not allow you to go to Irkngthand without becoming a Nightingale."

"You won't 'allow' me? Since when do you have the right to allow me anything?"

He smiled tightly, tamping down the need to show her, rather than tell her, exactly what gave him that right. "Now, lass, don't take me the wrong way, but I think it's best you stay here, where you're needed."

"What? I pledged my loyalty to this damn Guild, swearing to help you find Mercer and kill him, and now you want me to stay here? You must be crazy!"

"As Nightingales, Karliah and I can handle whatever Mercer dishes out."

"You're not funny, Bryn." She eyed him with growing impatience, not fooled by his directive, and at the same time, thrilled by his protectiveness. "I'll follow you no matter what you tell me to do."

"Please, do not go against me in this, Natasja. Do not force my hand."

"Or what? Would lock me in the vault?" she asked with a faint snicker.

"You will do as I order, or you're out. Simple as that."

Shock registered on her face. He can't mean that. "You'd kick me out of the Guild?" she said in a quiet voice, her expression like that of a child about to cry. "I don't believe you."

"Believe me." His voice now carried all the suppressed emotion and tension of the last hour. "I'd knock you out, tie you up, and send you packing on your horse to Whiterun. Back to the Companions."

"Back into the open arms of the Companions? Now I know you're joking."

"Not really." He pushed his hands down into his pockets, his body stiff and unrelenting. She understood what he meant, understood his priorities, but that only served to anger her more.

"So, that's it then. There's no real freedom in this Guild, is there? At least not for me."

"There's no real freedom anywhere, lass."

"That's not true! I've had freedom before, on my own out there!" she shouted, pointing her finger toward the exit. "I've tasted it, Brynjolf, and I know it exists. You do too."

"And that's all beside the point. Mercer was dangerous before he had that key. You of all people know this. There is no way you would survive without the Nightingale powers."

"I know what you're trying to do here, but I don't need an overbearing father figure hiding me for safe keeping in a closet!"

"Knowing is not the same as understanding, lass. Just once, can't you step back and see how your stubbornness is complicating things?" Her face had reddened and her breathing labored. Gods, it was hard to speak to her this way. "Look, let's discuss this rationally before more things are said that can't be taken back."

"There is nothing rational about any of this!"

"This alliance with Nocturnal is just a contract. It's business to me, and that's the only reason I'm amenable to it. One hand is washing the other. The Guild is my primary concern. I won't let it fall, lass. I can't."

"I know that." She dropped her head and began to bang her fist gently against her forehead. "All right. Plead your case, Bryn. I'll do my best to try to understand."

He stood in front of her, taking both of her hands in his. "I've no doubt about your skills or mine on any given day, but this is different. Mercer is a dark and powerful man now, almost supernatural if what Karliah says is true. And I think it is. Why are you so reluctant? Is it truly because you don't want to serve Nocturnal or is it because…?" He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing his next words would hurt her deeply if he wasn't careful. "You always find a way to win. Whether it's at cards or fighting, you always find a way to stack the odds in your favor. Why not this time? Are you afraid of something beyond Nocturnal's oath?"

"Funny that you would paint me as the opportunist, in your own roundabout way," she said, pulling away from him. "I don't fear failure, Bryn. I detest it. And the reason I hate it so much is that with every failure, someone gets hurt."

"I, for one, plan to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, and not buried in it."

"Confidence will get you through a fight, Bryn, but arrogance will get you killed. If you go at Mercer as a Nightingale, thinking you're equals, you'll be reckless. Can't you see, Bryn? Can't you see what a mistake this will be?"

"I don't agree. And neither am I reckless nor do I ever underestimate the enemy," he said defensively. Few people had ever wounded his pride in the past, but those who did, those who were brave enough to challenge him, were the ones he cared about the most. "Please, Natasja, just consider it. I would never ask this of you if I didn't believe it to be the only way. I'm thinking of your safety, just as you are considering mine."

"If there was some guarantee that striking an oath with Nocturnal would help us defeat Mercer and save the Guild, I'd do it in an instant."

"Sometimes you just have to go with your gut instinct. Mine is telling me is we need to do this, and I'm rarely wrong."

She drew in a sharp breath and blew out. "I just have a dreadful feeling and I can't shake it."

"Then explain what you're feeling. Maybe I can reason it out for you."

"There is no explanation for this kind of apprehension. It's almost like a premonition, but I can't quite grasp it. I just know it's something… evil and dangerous."

"Maybe Mercer has influenced you somehow," he offered, staring past her in thought for a moment. "But I can't base my decision on your superstitions, lass. The entire Guild is at stake. I shudder to think of what would happen to them if I failed."

"They'd just find another guild to belong to, another wretched town to rob blind."

"You say that as if you don't care about them. Or me."

"How can you say that? This is the only family I've known since I was a child. Of course I want the best for everyone. For you especially." A sweat broke on her brow as he distanced himself from her, and her emotions bubbled to the surface without hindrance. "Damn it, Bryn, why can't you understand?"

"Understand what? You're not making much sense. Speak plainly for once," he snapped, then frowned when she winced. "Please, lass, tell me. Help me to understand," he said with a lower tone and a sympathetic gaze.

How could she talk about something she couldn't even think about without deep emotion? She was tempted to accuse him of feigned concern, but that would only make her look like a spoiled and selfish young girl, the same distrustful and coolly detached girl who walked into Riften all those months ago. She'd changed since then, matured and flourished under his watchful eyes. Brynjolf was a devoted mentor, a trusted friend, and the man she adored. She owed him an explanation.

"All right. Here it is," she said, throwing back her shoulders. "I realize Karliah's concerns are very valid, and I know if we were to become Nightingales it would benefit us greatly. But you're right, I am afraid. For you. I haven't been this worried for someone else's life in a long time, and I can't… Bryn, if you died…." A sob caught in her throat, and she pushed it back. "It terrifies me to think of what I'd do without you." The confession was too overwhelming in its intensity, and she spun around, burying her face in hands.

"Meeting the gods is not something I plan to do today, tomorrow, or any time soon. Have a little faith, Natasja." When he took her by the arm and turned her around, he recognized a raw fear he hadn't seen since they first met. He gathered her into his arms until the trembling stopped and the tears subsided. "I am not going to die, lass, and neither are you."

A small laugh escaped her even though dread still coursed through her veins. "Despite all your other talents, you can't read the future. Or was I misinformed?"

"You were misinformed." His heart pounded against his chest, a potent urgency emanating from him. Holding her face in his hands, he kissed her as if he might never have the chance again, as if he'd die without her, touching her as if she was the most precious thing in all of Tamriel. "We will make it out, lass. You and I will survive this. The gods aren't so cruel to let me spend the rest of my days alone. They won't take me away from the woman I love."

She could hardly believe what she'd heard, but her ears certainly weren't deceiving her. Nor were her lips, for they were now covered with his, insistent but gentle, encouraging. And behind it all she could taste his hunger—hunger for her.

"Do you love me, Natasja? Answer me honestly, because I know now that I love you. Do you?" She nodded. "Answer me then. Say it… Please."

She felt his words caress her as he brushed his lips against hers again. She gazed into his eyes and heard herself speaking softly, as if she were floating, like a drifting snowflake caught in an updraft before finding a perfect landing. "I love you."

With an admiring smile, he put his arms around her and held her. "I know you do." But their embrace ended as suddenly as it had begun when Brynjolf broke away. He reached for the door before giving her a tender look. "I wish we had more time so I could make love to you the way I've imagined since your return, but we should tell Karliah we're ready now." A faint hint of desperation edged in his voice.

She didn't have the heart to give voice to her petty doubts again. Leaning forward, she brushed a gentle kiss across his frowning mouth. "I believe we'll make it, Brynjolf. You've convinced me."

"I swear when this is over, we'll get a room at the Bee and Barb with all we need to survive for a day." She nodded to him as they held hands. Reassured, he visibly relaxed, motioning for her to go out the door first.

"Bryn, can I have a few minutes alone to think? Just… let me have a little time to absorb this all and then clear my head."

"Of course. I'll speak with Karliah and start preparations." He laid his palm on her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. "Don't take too long, love."

She smiled as bright as a sunrise, his endearment sending a wave of warmth to her heart. "I won't." When he turned to go, he gave her a saucy wink, and then he was gone. She was left staring at the solid wood between them, and trying to control the way her knees threatened to buckle. Everything was falling back into place. Once Mercer was taken care of, her life—their life—would begin anew.

They won't take me away from the woman I love. The moment the words came to her mind, an unearthly peace washed over her. Her body went limp as she sat on the bed and fell backward slowly. Stretching herself out, she let her mind wander until she lay in a stupor of bliss, lost in thoughts of his kisses, and drifting into a daydream, finally coming home to where she belonged.

A deafening shriek from the Cistern echoed off the walls shattering her peaceful rest. It was a woman's scream, but it wasn't Vex or Karliah. Sapphire! She leapt from the bed and sprinted from the room.

"Get him over here!" she heard Brynjolf shout as she raced toward the thieves surrounding him and a bed. "Whose arrow is sticking out of Vipir's side, Del?"

"Not sure. Had to be a sniper hiding in the cemetery. He was long gone by the time I ran out there. Can't tell by the fletching either. Standard bolt from a crossbow."

"One of Mercer's men, no doubt. Have Dirge fetch the mage!"

Natasja peered over Delvin's shoulder. The injury rendered Vipir almost unconscious, but his limbs still quivered with the strong pain. "Del, is he going to make it?" The urgency in her voice gave way to frantic worry. "He looks deathly pale."

"He's a strong one, and I've seen him hurt worse. A prayer or two wouldn't hurt though, Nat."

He wants me to pray? He may die then. Oh gods….

"Vipir, stay with me," Brynjolf implored as Natasja moved next to him, but only mumblings and wheezing came from their injured brother. Blood had already covered the sheets, and Vipir's chest barely rose and fell with shallow breaths.

"He'll bleed out if you remove the arrow," Natasja said.

"I know that, damn it!" Brynjolf snapped in a panic as he raised his head. "Sapphire, get me some clean cloth and hot water. And some of that Valenwood whiskey too."

Sapphire's face had paled, her eyes brimming with unshed tears before she ran off. Natasja caught Brynjolf's eye, and they shared the unspoken truth that had been written on Sapphire's face. It chilled Natasja's bones to think Vipir might die before Sapphire could tell him the depth of her feelings. She glanced at Brynjolf as he tended to the wound, and thanked the gods for allowing them both to finally profess their love for each other.

Karliah approached then, wringing her hands over and over. "Our luck is running out, Brynjolf. We must leave soon."

"Not until the mage gets here."

"It could take an hour or more to find her." Karliah pointedly looked at Natasja, as if expecting an answer. "Hesitation is the seed of defeat. It is what brought this attack on in the first place."

"Don't you dare blame me for this," Natasja said in all but a growl.

"I'm not. I'm simply-"

"No one is to blame for this," Brynjolf said firmly as silence shrouded the Cistern.

Sapphire returned with the items he had asked for, but quickly disappeared. Natasja knew how she felt, wanting to stay yet needing to leave for her own sanity. Natasja hoped this incident would open her eyes, make her see that some things should not wait. She sighed and watched Brynjolf. It broke his heart to see Vipir so near death and there was nothing she could do except wait helplessly for the mage to come.

Long minutes, a solid half-hour at least, had passed before the mage, Marya, was hustled to Vipir's side. Her hands glowed the brightest of cerulean as she touched him, and the wound stopped bleeding.

"He has lost a great deal of blood. I cannot replace what has left him, but I can stabilize him. The arrow will have to be removed, eventually. But for now, it must remain as it is within him."

"Will he make it?" Brynjolf asked with a faint crack in his voice.

"His heartbeat is weak, and his lungs are filling with fluid. But he is young and strong, stubborn. He should survive. I could summon a daedra to make a deal with you, if you so desire."

Brynjolf's eyes darted to Delvin, silently asking for his advice. A slight shake of his head was all Delvin offered. No more Daedra. "No. Do everything in your power. Call in another mage if you must. But you are to stay here until he wakes. If you need anything at all, just ask Delvin or Vex."

Her eyebrows rose skeptically. "I do have a few expensive potions to speed up his blood production. But I hear the Guild is having some financial troubles."

"You'll be paid well, Marya." Brynjolf handed her several gold pieces from his pocket, more than he needed to. "And there will be more when he's up and around."

She tipped her head in acceptance and began another round of healing. "Come now, child," Marya intoned, "think of what you have to live for."

Natasja and Karliah waited for Brynjolf's directive. When he finally stood up, satisfied the mage would do her best, he cocked his head, indicating they should move toward the bridge for privacy.

"He's in good hands," Karliah said. "I've seen other men recover from such an injury. You being one of them."

"Aye. He'll live. And then I'll beat the tar out of him for being so reckless." He breathed a sigh of relief. "As much as I hate to leave right now, I think we'd best get to Nightingale Hall before any more ill fortune befalls us."

For the first time since her arrival, Karliah relaxed, a half-smile playing on her lips as she laid her hand on Natasja's shoulder. "I'm glad you've changed your mind. It wouldn't be the same without you."

Natasja and Brynjolf shared a fleeting glance before he spoke. "It would be quieter as there would be much less bellyaching, but I agree." Then he gazed at her with calm affection. "It wouldn't be the same at all."

"You know, I can't remember the last time I heard a Nightingale sing," Natasja remarked. "Maybe Nocturnal can improve my singing voice."

"It would take more than a Daedra for that, lass. Perhaps Nocturnal has some other Daedric friends better suited to help budding sopranos. Then we would surely witness a miracle."

Surprisingly unaffected by his ribbing, Natasja began humming under her breath, then slowly she sang aloud. "We drink to our youth, and to days come and gone. For the age of Mercer's oppression is now nearly done."

She heard Brynjolf and Karliah chuckle a little. Maybe they laughed at the addition of Mercer's name, or her awful singing voice as she sang off-key, no sense of carrying a tune whatsoever. Either way, she sang on, listening to her own voice echo off the rock walls of the Cistern.

"But this is our Guild and we'll see it rise again with the death of the man who has sullied ours dreams!"