A bit of a Thieves Guild one-shot I wrote about my own character after the quest line was over. Closure for the Dragonborn, and for a certain traitorous Guildmaster. Advice, critiques, and anything of the sort is much appreciated.
Joanna sat on the porch of Honeyside, the dark of the night hiding her from view. Her black hair was brushed back and her clothes were clean, which was something of an odd sight for anyone who knew the young Imperial. Brynjolf always got onto her about wearing her Guild armor out in the middle of the day. Not that she paid him that much mind. She adored her mentor, but to be frank, she didn't give a damn if all of Tamriel knew that she was the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild.
She propped her feet up onto the table and rifled through the bag of coin and belongings she had. A few things from the Snow-Shod Manor she had liberated more out of sheer boredom than anything else. Lately Joanna found herself breaking and entering just to keep her mind off things.
The young Guildmaster stood, wincing at a left over pain from a wound given to her by her former Guildmaster. She couldn't move without feeling the scar brush over her clothes anymore. It was always there, a reminder of the night in Snow Veil Sanctum when he had turned on her.
She opened the door and stepped in quietly. Roggi was asleep in their bed. He was forced to sleep alone a lot lately, with Joanna's new insomnia. Not that he knew it half the time, the man was nearly impossible to wake up. He stayed on a slight buzz in the best of days. Joanna wasn't complaining, though, Roggi was a sweet, gentle soul even when drunk out of his wits. He was harmless, always with a cheerful smile. He was kind to her, welcomed her and called her "love" and "darling" even though she was hardly ever home.
Joanna moved to the wardrobe in silence, just as she had been taught. She stripped off the fine clothes - a gift from Radiant Rainments - and slowly pulled on the familiar Guild armor. It fit her like a second skin and clung to her slim figure, but it was more comfortable than anything she owned. Not even the Nightingale armor matched the Guild's armor. The familiar feel of leather made her relax. She pulled the hood over her head and slipped back out the back door once more, the Nightingale blade strapped to her side.
It had made her proud at first. She, Joanna, a common thief had not only defeated the master thief Mercer Frey, but she had managed the Pilgrim's Pass and returned the Skeleton Key, and she had managed to take the Eyes of the Falmer. It had all been fine the first few weeks, when she had her work in rebuilding the Guild to keep her mind off everything. She kept busy. She was never in a city for more than one night at a time.
It had been a week after she was elected as the new official Guildmaster. Joanna had been standing behind the desk in the Cistern when suddenly it had hit her. She had been touched by some incredible depression, a feeling that had started deep in her chest and risen all the way to her throat. It threatened to suffocate her if she didn't do something. At first, she couldn't understand the cause.
Finally, the reason behind it had come to her. She had watched him stand behind that desk so many times before. It had become something natural to her, seeing him behind the desk. Mercer Frey's image was stuck in her head.
That feeling of triumph and pride was gone. All that was left was the ache. Pain, boredom, and loss filled her, making even her work seem like something dull and unnecessary. Nothing was the same without him. He had been the force that pushed her to do her best in her work. His disdainful sneers had only burned a fuel within her to prove him wrong. She knew he thought of her as some useless kid, and she wanted to show him her worth. She had ran back and forth, to and from the Guild, stealing things left and right. She took entire armories out of homes and pickpocketed every belonging out of a man's coin purse. Joanna had ran off and broken into Goldenglow, finding everything he asked for.
Joanna had never felt the need to impress anyone. Until Mercer Frey had fixed her with that look of superiority, she had been without a care on any other's opinion.
She stood at the stables now, stepping to her horse. She had bought her in Whiterun, the man had called the horse Allie. Joanna had fallen in love. She smiled, petting the beautiful horse and climbing into the saddle. She took the reins, looking out to the road with a sigh. Giving the horse a soft kick, she took off at full speed.
...
At some point, she had to leave the horse behind and crawl over the icy rocks. If she swam across the lake, she would have surely frozen to death, anyway. So, the young Guildmaster crawled her way to her destination, praying to the Eight Divines, to Talos, to Nocturnal that she didn't fall in the icy water. She landed in front of the entrance with a quiet thud. There it was, Bronze Water Cave. She remembered crawling out of it, soaked and exhausted. Every bone in her body had ached. Joanna shuddered, feeling a cold breeze. She knew where that cave led. She stepped inside.
The sounds of the Dwarven pipes still at work made the entire place seem less disturbing. The Imperial wasn't sure she could handle the silence, and the faint, hot steam that randomly burst from the pipes warmed her. She kept moving, a bottle of Black-Briar mead in hand. She had stolen it from that Dunmer worker who was secretly selling the mead cheaply. He was just lucky she hadn't ratted him out to Maven, after all.
She wandered down the noisy passage, popping the cork out of the bottle and spitting it in some random direction as she found the end of the tunnel where the water was overflowing. From there she stopped, staring into the water in silence. The mead bottle was clutched in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were white. She knew what was down there in the bottom of the pool. The statue, the sanctuary, the dead Falmer. His body, perhaps?
"It wasn't supposed to happen this way," she said aloud. Her voice bounced off the walls and echoed down the cave. "I didn't want it to happen this way. I respected you. I looked up to you. Well, figuratively anyway." She pushed the hood off her face, revealing a young but tired face. Dark eyes that had once been mischievous were now dull, practically lifeless. Her hair was somewhat messy from being under the hood for so long, which was not unnatural, really. She rarely had it well-kept.
There was no sound except for the hum of the Dwarven mechanisms. Joanna lifted the mead to her lips and sipped, wrinkling her nose a moment later. "You were right," she commented sourly, "This does taste like swill." She leaned her back against the ragged wall of the cave and took another drink, ignoring the taste and letting the slight dizzying feeling rush through her. It left her head dizzy, her face warm, and her vision funny. "You know, you're a bastard," she said thoughtfully. She tilted her head. "You just left me here to take care of your mistakes, and your mess, and your Guild. I never wanted this job. I was content with being just as I was. A thief with no responsibility."
She finished the mead in a few more drinks and threw it hard against the opposite wall. It shattered into pieces and fell around her. "How dare you?" she asked quietly. "I did everything you told me to, and I put all my effort into pleasing you! And you- you..." She trailed off, eyes watering, and she suddenly took a few steps into the water. "Every time I stand at that desk, it's the same thing. I see you everywhere! Your handwriting in the ledger, and your work unfinished." She scowled, now waist deep into the icy water. "Mercer Frey, I've never wanted to despise someone more than I want to despise you. And the worst part is, I don't have it in me to do so."
Joanna took a deep breath and dove into the water.
It was dark in the sanctuary. No light could come from the cave above, which left everything in shadow. She hadn't been expecting the blinding darkness, and as she dove down and her feet touched the head of the statue she realized she couldn't see anything down here. She could hardly see the statue itself, let alone a few feet in front of her face. She pushed off the head and swam her way back to air, coughing and sputtering.
She climbed back out of the freezing water, teeth chattering, eyes glinting angrily in the shadowy cave. "How could you just leave me with something like this? I don't know how to run a Guild! I can barely tell my kids no when they ask for something! I know, I have Bryn and I appreciate him so much, but he doesn't know how to run this thing, either. I'm on my own." Her breath was coming out shallow and she could feel tears running down the sides of her face - or was that just the cave water? - and her entire body was trembling.
A desperate need to get back down into the sanctuary hit her and she opened her palm, whispering the Magelight spell and watching the white ball of light shoot out over her head. She dropped her hand and strode back into the cold pool of water, taking a breath and diving in a moment later.
The light hardly made swimming in the murky water any easier, but at least there was a faint distinction of what she was seeing as she swam down to the head once again. From in the distance, she saw something floating, and against her better judgment, she pushed herself off the statue and away from the only exit. The floating body came into view. A Falmer. She hesitated a few feet away before turning, looking down near the arm where it had happened. She had killed him there, on the statue's left side. The blood stains had all but washed off the statue. But where is he?
Her lungs were beginning to burn and she winced, pushing herself back up towards the ceiling. The Magelight must have been dwindling now anyway. She looked up, towards the head, and squinted. Where was the cave? She couldn't see the cave. She swam quickly to the ceiling, touching her hands on the rocks just above the head. Her lungs felt like fire. Where was the cave?
Another wince of pain, she felt her vision blurring, but she couldn't see the cave! Joanna searched the top of the sanctuary desperately, until finally she couldn't hold the air in anymore and in a desperate attempt for air she opened her mouth, taking in the water. Joanna coughed under the water, sputtering and slowly sinking, vision blurring. The Magelight flickered out with a last gleam and left her in the darkness. There was a shadow of darkness somewhere above her. Another Falmer? Her eyes closed...
Joanna was only unconscious for a moment. As soon as she was pulled out of the water and into the cave she began coughing, sputtering, and hacking out the water that had threatened to suffocate her. She was limp, freezing, and unable to move. Then who was moving her? Someone was half dragging her out of the water entirely, muttering something under his breath. She tried to move. "Let go."
"Don't talk," barked the other, "Just shut up and be still. I see a few months as Guildmaster have made you no wiser."
The voice sounded familiar to her, but she couldn't place where. The sound was raspy, like stones rubbing together, but was oddly soothing to her. She knew she had heard that voice before.
The man dragged her into the larger portion of the cave, where blood splatters littered the floor. Frost spiders, if she had remembered correctly. She, Brynjolf, and Karliah had killed them all. He pulled her in front of one of the Dwarven pipes. Warm steam was coming from it, warming her freezing body. She slid to the floor, unable to hold herself up, and leaned against the warm pipe. "Who...?"
Joanna didn't believe her own eyes at first. She recognized him immediately, had seen his face in her mind for weeks. Blondish hair that was beginning to turn gray with age, a lined face that revealed years of stress and work, dark green eyes that held so many secrets it was hard to keep count. He was wearing his old armor, a set that she now matched perfectly. He was staring at her with that familiar expression of irritation and disdain, all while moving her body closer to the Dwarven mechanism. Mercer Frey knelt right in front of her, as if he hadn't been dead for over a month.
"Mercer," she whispered, the strain of speaking clear in Joanna's voice.
"I said don't talk," snapped the former Guildmaster. "Just lie still and stay near that vent."
Her eyes widened. That's him all right. Joanna began to struggle to get up. Her legs were like liquid, though, and she couldn't grab hold of anything to hold herself up. "Mercer, that's impossible. You can't be- You're not here, you- you're-"
"Just as good with words as you used to be, I see," Mercer muttered. "Would you stop trying to get up? Sit down."
His voice made her jump - a familiar sensation - and her eyes widened. Joanna immediately sat back on the ground. Mercer seemed to smirk, but it was gone from his features in a moment and he went back to positioning her. His hands were calloused, rough, and he took no interest in trying to be gentle with her. "Did you bring any clothes with you?" he asked.
Joanna nodded. "There's something in the knapsack on Allie."
Mercer stood up and looked down at her. "Right. I'll be right back. Don't you dare move, Joanna." Without waiting for her response, the supposed dead man turned on his heel and strode out of the cave.
The Imperial couldn't stop shivering. Whether that was from the cold or her dead Guildmaster was entirely unclear. Mercer couldn't have been there. She had killed him. She had stabbed him! She had seen him fall onto the statue limply and heard his last groaned breath. She had even seen his body taken by the rising water level. Then who was walking outside to find her horse?
Another bout of steam rose from the pipe and washed over her. Joanna shuddered, feeling the hot steam hit her freezing skin. That couldn't be her old Guildmaster. Whoever was out there was an imposter! They had to have been! She didn't know who or how, but that was the only explanation. Did Mercer have a brother?
Whoever he was, surely he was a thief. That much was too obvious by the way he moved, agile but strong, confident, quick. Just like Mercer. But it wasn't Mercer!
Joanna's hand reached down to the Nightingale blade suddenly, only to meet nothing. Her eyes widened. Where was the Nightingale blade? It had been strapped to her side! "Looking for this?" Her eyes snapped up to the imposter, who had a bundle of clothes in one hand and the Nightingale blade in the other. The blade was being spun lazily, and Mercer was smirking. "You always were predictable, Jo."
"How do you know me?" she shot back, "Who are you really? And give me back my sword!"
"You mean, Gallus' sword," Mercer corrected, "You know who I am, you fool." His voice was quiet, as it often got when he was getting annoyed, and for a moment Joanna bit her tongue. This brought memories, backtracking to make sure the Guildmaster didn't behead her.
"Karliah gave the sword to me," she growled softly, "It's mine. And as for- Let me go!"
The imposter-Mercer strode over wordlessly and grabbed her arms, forcing the soaked Guild armor loose. "You'll freeze to death," muttered the other furiously. He set his jaw as the young Imperial began swinging at him, shouting and cursing him with every tired breath. Mercer growled and pushed her against the Dwemer pipe. "Dammit, Joanna!" he shouted. He paused, and then said, "When we were on our way to Snow Veil Sanctum, you heard word about a dragon in Kynesgrove. Without even a word, you stormed off in that direction, and when I tried to stop you, I told you it was none of our business. And you said-"
"It's my business," Joanna whispered.
"You wouldn't hear about going straight to the ruins until after you had dealt with the dragon. I had to follow you all the way there, where we fought the damned thing and almost got ourselves killed. You killed it, and you took it's soul as though that were something normal. And then you climbed all the way to the top of that mountain and you found some writing on a wall. Once you read it, you let out some Shout and froze the treasure chest lock shut."
"It was an accident," she mumbled.
"I sat there with makeshift torches trying to melt the thing for half the day," he stated, shaking his head. "We had to make another stop in Windhelm just so we could sell off all the junk inside. Not to mention what we got off the dragon."
Joanna was trembling, and now she was certain it was because of the man in front of her. "How did you know that?" she asked meekly.
Mercer scoffed. "It's me, you dolt," he barked, "Now if you would be so kind as to stop fighting me for five seconds, we'll get you out of that armor before you freeze to death." He moved to finish taking her clothes off, and this time Joanna had no complaints. She sat, still and lifeless as a doll, and allowed him to pull the cuirass off her until she was in nothing but smallclothes. He grabbed the clothes he had found in the satchel, some fine clothes that were deep red and thick, warm. Mercer helped her into the clothes and sat back on his haunches.
"Mercer Frey," Joanna murmured. She wasn't quite as cold now, thanks to the dry clothes and the steam coming from the pipe. "I killed you. You're dead."
"I'm dead," Mercer agreed, his voice surprisingly calm.
"But you're here." Joanna sat up slightly, only to feel Mercer push her down again.
"You met Gallus' ghost," the old Guildmaster pointed out, "Why not mine, too?"
Joanna's eyes narrowed. "And is that what you are? A ghost?"
"Not exactly." Mercer sighed, sliding over to sit beside of the young thief. He rested his arms on his knees and stared off at the ceiling, though to Joanna he seemed to be searching for something farther. Something he could see but could not touch or experience. "Something like that."
Joanna could see him perfectly now. He was only a few inches away. She could have reached out and touched his face. She wanted to, if only to see that he was real. His eyes traveled to meet hers and his eyebrow quirked, catching her stare. "I don't understand," Joanna admitted.
Something akin to a smile crossed Mercer Frey's face. It was more than a sneer or smirk, but it couldn't be classified as something as happy as a smile. It was bitter, solitary, and cold. "Only the worthy, only the truly worthy go to Soverngarde," he said, "You know that. And as for Nocturnal," he barked out a laugh that was dry and humorless, "She wouldn't have me, either. I was cast out of Evergloam, which was not surprising. Gallus sends his regards, by the way."
He rolled his eyes.
"So, I am a spirit. Stuck on the mortal plane. I can travel as I like, but it's very seldom I can actually interact with mortals." He took out the Nightingale blade and examined it closely, running light fingers over the flat of the sword. "You know, Gallus used to treat this thing with more respect than he gave Karliah. It's a wonder she didn't chuck it into the river."
"It was something she had left of him," Joanna replied, her tone quiet.
"Aren't getting sentimental on me, are you, Jo?"
Joanna didn't answer. She pursed her lips, thinking, and then she said, "So, why are you here?"
Mercer shrugged. "Well," he said, his voice coming out like a grunt, "When Nocturnal forced me out of Evergloam, I landed back here. It had to have been a day or two after everything happened in the sanctuary. I landed right at the mouth of the cave, with no purpose or idea as to what I was supposed to do. So, I did the only thing I could. I went back to Riften. It took awhile, but I was able to make it back within a few days. I wanted to see what had come of the Guild... No. I wanted to see that the Guild was falling apart. I wanted to see it go up in flames, I wanted to see it die like I died on that statue. I was ready, too. By the time I got to Riften, I was ecstatic. I hadn't felt such energy since before I had died. I was ready."
"Then what happened?"
"I got to the Ragged Flagon," replied the former Guildmaster with a scoff. "And all I could hear was your name. It was you I saw, running back and forth between the Flagon and the Cistern, taking as many jobs as you could get your hands on from Vex and Delvin. You took down lists of not only houses to go to, but cities. You were dressed in your Nightingale armor, and you wouldn't be still. You never stayed inside for more time than what it took for you to get your jobs and go." Mercer barked out a laugh, once more it was a bitter sound that made Joanna go stiff. "And the Guild was growing," he growled, "No, the Guild was thriving. The Guild was richer than I had ever seen it. You brought back it's fame, it's glory, and you restored it in the other cities."
"I was busy those months," Joanna commented. The chill had left her. She was warm now, and tired, so very tired. She might have rested her head on the Guildmaster's shoulder if she wasn't certain he'd shove her away.
"Busy," Mercer scoffed, "You single-handedly restored the Thieves Guild. And you took over entirely." His voice went quiet, barely an octave over a whisper, and he hesitated before he continued, "You were named Guildmaster and celebrated. I was at the ceremony, standing only a few inches from you and no one could see me. Not even Karliah's trained vision saw me, not even her mer ears heard me." He shook his head.
Joanna closed her eyes, remembering the ceremony. Karliah had been there, all right, to welcome her as the new Guildmaster. She hadn't seen the Dunmer since Irkingthand. The reunion had been welcomed at the time. If only she had known Mercer Frey had been standing so close to her that entire time. "It must have been hard," she said softly, "seeing everyone and being unable to speak to them, I mean."
"Sentiment," spat the other.
"There's nothing wrong with being sentimental, Merc," the Imperial mumbled.
"Surely you don't mean those two street rats living in your house," Mercer muttered, "Or that drunkard of a husband."
"Don't speak of them like that!" Joanna snapped, her head turning in the man's direction. She tried to stand and failed. "Roggi is a wonderful man, and my children are not street rats."
Mercer's lip curled in disgust, but Joanna noticed that the look didn't meet his eyes. His eyes were without the usual disdain or annoyance. They were solemn. "So, why can I see you now?" she asked, relaxing back against the pipe. "Why couldn't I before?"
"Well, I said mortals can't see me. But you, you aren't totally mortal, are you, Dragonborn," Mercer sneered. "As for why you couldn't see me before, well, my guess is you weren't trying. You weren't thinking of me during that time. Only the Guild, only restoring it, building it, strengthening it. You were up to your neck in Guild matters. And that didn't change until not too long ago." Now the former Guildmaster smirked, "You began thinking about me, and in turn you felt me. Don't make any mistake, I was glad. For the first time in awhile, I was being noticed. You thought about me to a point that it might have been maddening. You broke back into my manor just to sneak back through the entire thing, just to sit at my desk and stare at that bust. You would stand at the ledger and read over my writing for hours without making any changes. You wandered through Goldenglow Estate for an entire night. You were never at home with your family, because you were with me, you just didn't know it."
"Then that was the feeling," Joanna whispered, "You really were there."
Mercer nodded. "I walked alongside you, in Riftweald and Goldenglow, in the Cistern, in the streets, I followed you everywhere. I knew eventually this would happen. You would see me. It was only a matter of time." He made a sound of someone sucking on their teeth and rested his head back on the pipe behind him. "It wasn't until tonight, when you came here of all places, and you spoke my name, was I able to make a move. I saw you in that water, desperate to find me, and that was exactly what I needed. Unfortunately, you were almost getting yourself killed in the process. I had to intervene, I had come too far and to be frank, you're the only person who's thought of me enough that I can actually grab a hold of the mortal world."
Joanna was silent as she took in everything he had just told her. This was Mercer Frey, there was no mistaking it now. There couldn't be. This was him, her Guildmaster, who had betrayed her and the entire Guild. She had killed him. "You left me with a mess," she said finally, a humorless little laugh coughing out of her lips.
The man chuckled, and Joanna thought she heard a hint of amusement in his voice. "Not so easy, is it?"
"Easy? I've never felt responsibility for something like this before. When I adopted the kids, it was no big deal. I had built Lakeview Manor, and I had Rayya as a Housecarl to take care of them, and Marcurio as a steward, he's no weakling, either. They were totally safe, and I was free to go as I pleased still. They were safe, and I still had no responsibility. When everything happened at Snow Veil Sanctum, I fought hard to get things back to something I could consider normal. But nothing was normal anymore." She closed her eyes, biting her lip and fighting back the tears that threatened to fall down her face. The last thing she needed was to let him know just how much the entire experience had broken her.
"Now it's not just me I'm taking care of, it's not even just the kids. It's the whole Guild, the ones who are new recruits and have no idea how to pick a lock, the ones that are older than I, that were here when Gallus was Guildmaster, the ones with more experience and more time in the field than I." She sucked in a breath. Her fists were clenched tightly and her knuckles were white. "I've barely ever been able to take care of myself, Merc. What am I supposed to do now?"
Mercer was quiet, and if not for his form there in the corner of her eye, Joanna might have thought she had dreamed him up. She saw him, though, right beside her, now and then shift his shoulders or move his hands. "You've been leading them subconsciously since the night at Snow Veil Sanctum, you just didn't know it," he said finally. She turned to him in confusion. Mercer kept his eyes forward. "You should have seen Brynjolf's expression when I told him Karliah had killed you. Heartbreak like that is something rare, but he felt it. More than anyone else, he did. Oh, the others felt it, too. You were the golden child of the Guild. I think even Maven was a little upset, though she didn't show it." He chuckled quietly and closed his eyes. "Everyone mourned for you. And after it was all said and done, I had never seen a Guild pull itself together like they did. They wanted revenge for your death so badly they could taste it."
"It was awful," she said quietly, "Being unable to go home. I wanted to go back to Riften, but Karliah told me not to. She said I would be killed."
"You would have," Mercer added casually.
"I wanted to go through the Ratway and walk into the Flagon, and experience all the old feelings. Dirge clapping my shoulder as I walked past him, Vekel asking if it would be my usual ale, Vex and Delvin pushing jobs on me." Joanna sighed. "It was one of the most miserable experiences of my life."
"They fought for you," Mercer said, "You led them on even when you weren't there. Surely you'll manage now that you're alive."
"That's the problem." Joanna put her hands to her head and looked down. "They want to follow me to Oblivion if that's what it takes, and they'll do it. They'll do anything I tell them to without question, and it scares me, Mercer. What if I do lead them to death? It was simple when I was just a thief. I took care of myself, and if I died in the process then that was all fine. No casualties. Just one no-named kid. Now it's like some battlefield. I make a wrong move and it isn't me who dies. It's one of them."
Mercer turned to face her. He seemed to study her, and Joanna all but shuddered under his gaze. Another familiar feeling, being under the Guildmaster's stare. It was as if he were looking past her body as if it were a shell. He was looking further, through her eyes, taking apart her mind and learning every secret. "That's part of the game," he said in a voice just above a whisper finally.
Joanna felt her stomach tighten. The game. That was what she had called it when Mercer had betrayed her. She had whispered the words in silence while in Markarth. She had laughed at the words scratched onto the wall in Irkingthand, "One Step Ahead - Mercer".
"I thought we finished that in Irkingthand," she commented.
Mercer's mouth twitched, and for a moment Joanna thought he was smiling. It wasn't a smile, though. It was an attempt, perhaps the closest thing he could manage to one. Whatever it was, Joanna saw it in his eyes, too. It was something genuine in the irritable Guildmaster. "The game never ends," he whispers, "That's part of the fun of being a thief. Not to mention, being a Nightingale."
Joanna couldn't help herself. A smile crossed her face, and now she laughed. She was tired, and without worrying about how the man would react she slid closer and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt Mercer tense, but he didn't move. "Sorry I stabbed you," she mumbled, sarcasm lacing her tone.
"No hard feelings," Mercer replied.
"It's no fun without you, y'know? The game, the Guild, the stealing. It lost its charm when you left." She closed her eyes. Mercer was cold, but the steam behind her kept her warm and that heat covered her and made her drowsy. "What happens now?"
"Now?" Mercer echoed. It took Joanna a moment to realize she could feel Mercer's head resting on her own. "Now it's time to move on. This? This was peace for me, I think. As much peace as a traitorous thief can receive. I'm ready to go."
Joanna's eyebrows crinkled. "Go?" she whispered. "Where will you go? No one else can see you, you can't really intend on going anywhere. You can stay, Mercer. The game doesn't have to end. Stay with me. Please." She tried to lift her head, but Mercer's own was on hers and she was exhausted. Her body felt like it weighed a ton. And Mercer's arm was around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Her own voice was foreign to her. She spoke, but it sounded far away. "Don't leave me again, Mercer, please."
She felt tears sliding down her face. Mercer's hand was brushing back her hair. Or at least, that's what she thought. "I can't run this Guild by myself. Help me. Stay and help me."
"Joanna," Mercer mumbled, "You know you can take care of the Guild. You don't need me."
"I do," she insisted, "Please, Mercer. I've missed you."
She was shaking and sobbing. Mercer was keeping his arm wrapped tightly around her. "Shh.." he whispered, "Dry up those tears, Jo. It's not proper for the Guildmaster to show sentiment." She shook her head, and Mercer sighed. "Close your eyes, kid. Get some sleep."
Joanna felt herself being moved into someone's arms. She felt herself being lifted. "Mercer, please," she whimpered.
"Shh... Sleep," answered Mercer.
Joanna felt herself slipping off, much to her dismay. She didn't want to sleep. She feared what she would wake to. Or really, what she wouldn't wake to. But Mercer was carrying her out of the cave. He was climbing the rocks with her in his arms. And before Joanna could open her eyes to see him, she felt herself slip away.
...
Joanna woke with a jolt. She was lying in the Cistern, in her bed, under the emerald green blankets. How had she gotten here? What had happened? Her mind was fuzzy and her head ached, and she felt as though she were getting a cold. She sat up in the bed and winced in pain. Glancing to her side, she saw the Nightingale blade lying on the drawer by the bed. The Nightingale blade...
Everything hit her all at once. Bronze Water Cave, the Sanctuary, Mercer Frey. She reached out and grabbed the sword, bringing it close to her, looking at her reflection in the blade. She looked as bad as she felt, her skin pale and her eyes sunken in. She groaned, dropping the sword on the bed. From the light of the ceiling in the Cistern, Joanna guessed it was very early in the morning. No one was awake yet.
She stood on wobbly legs and stumbled to the other side of the Cistern on bare feet. The sounds of skin on stone echoed in the room, but no one woke. Joanna got to the desk and all but collapsed against it. She groaned, rubbing her head and looking at the desk. The ledger was open as always, but there was a new note on the table with the sign of the Thieves Guild on the seal. Joanna picked it up and sat atop of the desk. She brought her feet up and crossed them.
The note was quickly written, in familiar hand-writing that matched that of the ledger beside her. It was short, but the point was made. There was another note attached to it that was not Mercer's writing, but was some scholar's words on Barenziah and her crown. Along with this, was a map of Skyrim with a few x's here and there. Joanna looked over the note, and then a second time to make sure she had read it right. A slow smile crossed her face.
Mistveil Keep
Clan Shatter-Shield
Palace of the Kings
Let the game begin.
-M
"Lass?"
Joanna looked up at Brynjolf, who was watching curiously. "What is that?"
"Brynjolf," Joanna said slowly, "What do you know about the Stones of Barenziah?"
The Nord's eyes widened a bit and then he shrugged. "Vex knows more than I do. Why?"
The Imperial smiled widely as she shoved the paper into her pocket. She stood up off the table and pulled free the map, spreading it out on the desk. "We have a new mission, my friend. And from the looks... We should start in Whiterun." There was an odd twinkle in the young Guildmaster's eyes. Much like that of a mischievous child, Brynjolf couldn't help but think. She looked up at him with a wide grin. "And so the game begins."