Sanctuary
"Where's Veezara?" Astrid asked. "No one seems to have seen him all day."
"I sent him on a mission." Arnbjorn squared off and faced Astrid, readying himself for the fight to come.
"You… sent him off?" Her eyes got a hard sparkle to them he recognized as anger. "Who's guild master?"
"You, my love."
"And why, pray tell, did you send him on a mission?" She glared at her husband, guessing.
"Because you know damn well you sent Nessa to her death. I sent Veezara to help her escape." His lip lifted a little, his own anger growing in anticipation of her reaction.
Arnbjorn went behind her back. Behind her back for Nessa! Always… always Arnbjorn had supported her authority, even nearly killing anyone who dared question it. Now he himself was defying her. It infuriated her, but she was clever enough to keep that to herself. A calculated smile bent the corners of Astrid's mouth. "Actually, no. I fully expect Nessa to survive. She's a capable assassin and she has the Night Mother's favor. It was a difficult job, we both know that, but I wanted her to have the glory of this kill."
Regarding his wife cautiously, Arnbjorn considered her words. He supposed it could be true, but she had to know how difficult this assignment would have been. Astrid jealously guarded her power. He'd been expecting her anger and she was being reasonable. It disarmed him and his anticipatory anger dissipated. "So… you're okay with it?"
Smiling broadly she hugged her husband. "I trust you, Arn. Your instincts are good and that's one of the many things I love about you." She kissed him gently on the lips. "Next time, just talk to me first though, hm?"
He wrapped an arm around her and returned her kiss, his brow only slightly furrowed. After all these years together, she still kept him guessing. "Agreed."
The smile unfolded into a frown as Arnbjorn left her office. Nessa's influence in the guild was becoming insidious. It was becoming all too clear that the Sanctuary wasn't big enough for both of them. Nessa was going to have to go.
Solitude
So hot. She thrashed weakly trying to get the blankets off.
"There you are, lass," a soothing voice said.
Something… from the past. Where? A cool cloth pressed on the back of her neck, on her face, passing down her arms. "Golden Glow," she rasped. "Did I do okay?"
Brynjolf looked at the girl, still lying on her stomach, her face, glistening with sweat, cheek pressed into a soft pillow. This wasn't good. The wound was infected. "Golden Glow went fine, Nessa. Remember?" He squeezed the water out of the rag again and wiped the sweat off her face. "You were… are my star pupil, lass. Never forget that."
She muttered something; her eyes only opened a slit. It couldn't be. "Brynjolf?" Everything seemed unreal, wrong, like a dream. Hot, so hot. There was an ambush… then a dragon… then… what happened?
"I'm still here, lass." It was the first time she'd spoken since he'd brought her down her nearly a day ago. She was on clean bedding now at least. "You need to drink some water." He carefully slid an arm under her head, lifting it a little, then shot a stream of water into her open mouth from the wine skin. Most of it dribbled out, but she did swallow some. "Is that better?"
She tried to nod, but her neck failed her. Her head lolled against his arm and her eyes drooped shut again. She made a small noise and then was still.
"Don't you leave me again, Nessa," he said as he arranged her head on the pillow. "This didn't happen so you can go die on me, girl." He felt her pulse. It was too fast, too shallow. He was going to have to risk going out again and find a healer. Galum-Ei would have a contact, someone who could be trusted. He didn't want to leave her alone here, but he couldn't move her. He'd get more water into her first. He struggled to raise her up better than the last time and got a little more into her mouth. She swallowed it reflexively.
"I've got to go, Nessy." He arranged her on her back this time, but turned a little so the wound wouldn't press into the bed. "I'll be quick as I can." She might, in her delirium, try to leave. Probably not. She didn't look strong enough to get out of bed, but he would lock the door, just to be sure.
He sat with her a little longer, stroking her face with the wet cloth. The half year she'd been gone had changed her. Her face had matured, leaving her looking more like a woman than a child, tipping the balance from pretty to something more memorable. Her slenderness made her look much more delicate than she was. He'd seen her wiry musculature when she was just in her breast band and he'd seen her run with an arrow lodged in her shoulder that should have, by all rights, knocked her down and stopped her in her tracks.
This wounded woman made something in his heart rip a little when he had pulled away the cowl and seen her. He had failed her in a way that made him feel less of man. He should have hidden her from the Dark Brotherhood, or confronted them, or tried to follow. But he didn't. He and Delvin let them take her without even a fight because they didn't want trouble with Mercer. Right now, watching her struggle to survive, he desperately wanted to trade places with her. "I owe you, lass."
Feeling rather foolish, he squeezed her hand, closed his eyes and prayed. "I'm not a praying man. I don't know if there's anyone out there looking after thieves, or Nords, or pretty girls, but if there is, then I calculate I'm asking a favor here. I can't promise to be anything other than what I am, a thief and a damn good sharpie. I won't promise to be good, or reform, or anything stupid like that. I'd just be lying and you'd probably know it. But whichever one of you wants me to be exactly what I am, I'll do it in your name. I'm just asking you to look after this girl."
Praying was damn foolish, he knew, but he had to try. He got up, fished a lock pick out of his pocket and, with one last look back, locked Nessa into the room in the abandoned thieves' guild under Solitude, making his way to Golum-Ei's hangout.
…..
Swimming up from the depths of unconsciousness and waking only barely, Nessa's eyes cracked open again.
"Well, hello," the Altmer said, his voice rough as gravel. "Didn't think you'd make it. Pretty bad case of lung fever and, well, restoration isn't my forte. But you're a tough one, I'll give you that."
Nessa blinked twice, slowly. Where am I? Who is this? "I'm not dead?"
The Altmer laughed and went on talking. "Not today. But you're not fit to move yet. Not for a few days and a whole lot of healing potions." He gestured to the table where he had lined up bottle after bottle of potions. "Four times a day, girly. I've given Brynjolf instructions. You shouldn't be down here, that's for sure. Too damn moldy and wet. If your lung fever comes back it isn't my fault."
Nessa wondered at the torrent of words coming out of the man's mouth and if they ever ceased. As it was, she could barely make sense of them.
"Isn't any of my business why you're down here. Although if I were to guess, it had something to do with that wedding that didn't get consummated." He chuckled to himself. "Not that you look like the sort that would kill a bride on her wedding day. Would you?" He put his finger on her lips. "Nope, don't answer that, I don't want to know."
Enthir rose from the chair and patted his pockets absentmindedly. "Well, I've been a friend of the thieves' guild for a long time and I figure if Brynjolf was a friend of Gallus then I couldn't turn him down, no matter."
"Thank…," Nessa said, or tried to say. Her mouth was parched and the words stuck in her throat.
"No need to thank me, girly. I was just doing what I was paid to do. But, if you survive my healing, let me tell you, I do have, uh… inventory you won't find in many places, if you catch my drift. I'm usually up in Winterhold, freezing my ass off. Come look me up if you need something."
He stuck a bottle in his pocket and left the confused-looking girl.
"How is she?" Brynjolf asked as he came out.
"I'd say she'll live. She's tough, that one is. By rights she should've died. I haven't ever seen anyone come back from lung fever that far progressed. Damned lucky, I should say. Well, my friend, if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."
Brynjolf exhaled and visibly relaxed. "I'm glad to hear that." He reached into his cuirass and pulled out a bulging sack. "Everything we agreed on, and a little extra." His fingers held onto the sack for a little longer, hating to part with the majority of what he'd earned in Solitude. It looked like he'd be walking home after all.
"Ah, yes. My thanks." Enthir pocketed the hefty sum. "Oh, that bottle you wanted me to look at. It's a sleeping draught. There's enough there to kill a troll."
Taking the bottle from the mage, Brynjolf pocketed it. "Hm, interesting." Perhaps it had been part of Nessa's plan. Maybe she had intended to poison the bride.
The thief and the mage parted, promising to do future business together and Brynjolf went into the room where Nessa was recuperating.
She heard the door open and turned her head. Her eyes were open fully for the first time and she finally seemed aware. "Brynjolf?" Her brow furrowed with confusion. "Where am I?" She looked around the room, tried to rise up on an elbow but her strength gave way and she fell back to the bed and coughed weakly.
He sat on the edge of her bed and touched her forehead. It felt cool for the first time in three days. "You don't remember anything?" She'd woken a number of times and each time had said his name. This time her eyes looked lucid.
She shook her head. "Well… not since the… the…." She couldn't say it, not to him.
"Assassination?" He finished the sentence for her.
Nodding, she watched his face closely. Now you know what I've become.
"You barely escaped. Do you remember being shot?" He'd had three days of watching her nearly die, long enough to almost get used to the fact she was an assassin.
She gazed into the distance and shook her head. "I remember running…. I got lost." She coughed again and her hand rose to her throat. "So thirsty."
"Ah, lass, I'm an idiot. Of course you are." He got up and took a skin off the wall. "It's just good, clear water. I'd better hold it." He sat on the edge of the bed and propped her up against him. "Am I hurting your shoulder?"
She shook her head. The water streamed into her mouth as he squeezed the bag. She swallowed gratefully and opened her mouth again for more. He let her have a few more mouthfuls. Feeling better, she sighed. "Thank you, Brynjolf and… I'm sorry. I wouldn't have troubled you."
He didn't resettle her back into her bed, but kept her propped again him. "There's a conversation we'll have later. Meantime, you need to heal and rest. I've got some stew and bread for you. Can you eat?"
She took stock of her stomach. Truly, she had no appetite, but the thought of food didn't repel her either. "I might be able to."
"Good girl." He shifted her so she was propped up against the wall and fetched her food.
It was embarrassing to be so helpless. Brynjolf sat back down next to her and began spooning food into her mouth like she was an infant, but his presence was reassuring. There was so much she wanted to say, but where to start? How to explain why she had disappeared and what she had done that had started her on this path. How could she tell him that once she'd killed for the Dark Brotherhood, she couldn't come back? Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over her lashes.
Setting the bowl on the end table, he wiped her tears as he'd been wiping off the stew that dribbled onto her chin. "Shush, lass. Whatever the source of that sorrow, put it aside for now. We'll have time enough to talk it out. Right now you need to finish this stew." He picked up the bowl and gave her an encouraging smile.
Concentrating on eating took her mind off of everything else. He swirled the bread around in the nearly empty bowl to sop up the last of the stew and gave it to her. She held his hand with her own to properly eat the bread. It felt a little presumptuous, a little intimate, but she looked up into his eyes and he only smiled his encouragement.
"That did you a world of good." He wiped the last bit of stew off the corner of her mouth and noted her cheeks weren't so pale. "How do you feel?" He pushed a lock of her fair hair behind her ear.
"Better. I could drink more water." She did feel stronger, strong enough to shift herself on the bed a little. She took the water skin from him and drank on her own this time.
"I should look at your shoulder and change the dressing. Enthir did what he could, but you've got some healing to do yet." He looked sheepish and smiled apologetically. "The shirt has to come off. May I?" His hands hovered over the buttons.
Nessa nodded, her cheeks warming. She felt like such a baby.
Brynjolf unbuttoned each button and pulled her shirt off. She was wearing her breast band, but the wound was completely accessible. "I think if you lie on your belly, that'll make it easier." He helped her turn over. The wound had soaked the bandage and he cleaned it with a potion Enthir left him, and bound it again. Long healed now, he wondered about the other scars on her back and where she'd gotten them. Every time he'd dressed her wound while she was unconscious he'd traced a particularly vicious one. His curiosity would have to wait, she needed rest.
Once the wound was bound he helped her turn again. "Tomorrow you'll be better, lass. I'll be back to wake you later for another healing potion. Are you comfortable?" He pulled the covers over her chest.
"I'm all right." She snuggled down into the bed.
"Ah, we forgot your shirt. Do you want it back on? Will you be warm enough without it?"
"I'm warm enough." Her eyes were drooping and Brynjolf was going out of focus. Eating and moving around had taken a lot of her energy. "I'm sorry to be…"
"Shush now. None of that now. Get some sleep, lass." He had a nearly overwhelming urge to bend over and kiss her cheek, but instead he went out of the room, leaving the door open so he could hear her.
~o~o~o~
The sun shining through a rusted grate illuminated a bit of the old forgotten thieves' guild. It woke Brynjolf and he was greeted by the sight of water dripping down walls, a few rats scurrying here and there, and a colorful assortment of molds and algae decorating the fetid walls. At least Nessa's room was relatively clean.
He listened for a few minutes before rising. Her room was perfectly silent. Thank the Divines. Yesterday morning he'd woken to her painfully labored breathing. Enthir might not be much of a healer, but he had saved her life.
Muscles protested after a night of lying in his uncomfortable bed. He groaned a little as he rose. "I'm sounding as creaky as Mercer," he said to himself. He brought another bottle of healing potion to Nessa and sat on the side of her bed. He watched her a moment before waking her. There was pink in her cheeks again and her skin had lost that waxy look she'd had from blood loss and fever.
"Wake up, lass," he whispered softly.
Her eyes opened slowly, looking hazy and unfocused for a moment, and then she looked up at him and smiled. "Brynjolf?"
"You know where you are today?" He returned her smile, wishing for a bit more light to see the blue of her eyes.
"Old thieves' guild under Solitude." She looked at his hand and grimaced. "Another potion?"
Grinning widely, he pulled the cork off and handed it to her. "Drink it down, girl. It's good for you."
"Enthir's potions taste like rat piss. Mine taste like berries." She sat up and took the bottle and swallowed it right down, not wanting to linger over it. Her face scrunched up and she stuck her tongue out.
Brynjolf took the bottle from her and chuckled. "You must be feeling better. You didn't complain yesterday."
Chuckling at his observation, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Being babied yesterday had been embarrassing enough; she wasn't going to be a burden on him any longer. Divines only knew what he'd had to do when she was out of her head with fever. She'd get out of this damn bed or die trying.
"Don't rush this, Nessa. I don't want you to have a relapse. Enthir would take it hard." He put out an arm and helped her to her feet.
"Lying about in bed isn't good either," she commented. She carefully picked her way to the doorway, not quite trusting her balance, or the broken tiles on the floor. Once she got to the doorway she leaned on it and looked out onto the large room that must've been the common room for the old thieves' guild. There was a pool of water, bigger than a puddle, but smaller than a pond, in the middle of it, created by leaks from the surrounding waterways. "I never thought I'd say it, but this makes the Ratway look downright homey."
"This has been abandoned for a lot longer than I've been a thief. It was once a thriving guild. Aren't many people that know this place exists. I only found it by accident once. Had a bit of bad luck and hid in the sewers, got lost and found a secret door. That's when I discovered this hidden paradise." He chuckled as he gestured at the decaying room.
"I suppose it is a paradise when you're looking to hide," Nessa said.
"So it is." He pulled a chair up for her to sit in. "Have a seat, lass. You can watch the rats at play and I'll change your dressing again." And finally get answers to my questions, he left unsaid.
Easing herself gently into the chair, sitting sideways so he could have access to her shoulder, she moaned only a little. Everything hurt. Muscles were tight from being immobile for so long. Her sprained ankle throbbed and the shoulder did too, but not as much as she thought it might.
Unwrapping her wound, he made a pleased sound. "It's looking much better, Nessa. It might leave an impressive scar though." He gathered up a healing potion and more bandages. Dousing one of the clean bandages with the potion, he pressed it over the healing wound. "Am I hurting you?"
His touch was gentle, but in truth it did hurt. "No. It's fine," she lied.
Feeling the tensing of her muscles, he knew she wasn't telling the truth. He finished bandaging her shoulder and decided to start his questioning with the other scars on her back. "This will leave a scar, I'm afraid. Maybe not so bad as these." His finger traced one of the long scars on her back. "I've seen thieves whipped on the pillory that didn't end up with scars this deep."
"Were they children?"
His finger stopped in the path he was tracing. The bitterness in her voice was clear. It all clicked into place for him. "Ah! You were an orphan?"
She turned around to face him. Her eyes were dark in the dim light of the hideout. "I saw the same scars on Aventus' back. Why, after so many years… why hadn't anyone ever stopped her?" Her brows pulled together as she remembered. "When I saw those fresh scars, Brynjolf, I felt it like it was yesterday. I had to stop her. My friends… the ones who just disappeared after a truly terrible beating…." She closed her eyes, squeezing them against terrible memories. "They were adopted. That's what Grelod told us." Her face twisted with hatred. "None of the little ones were adopted, Brynjolf! There would be fresh patch of turned earth in the garden after each adoption."
Not believing his ears, Brynjolf listened in horror and shame. Had he known, he would have strangled the old hagraven himself. "How'd you get away, lass?"
"Eventually, I was old enough and big enough that she was afraid to touch me. That's the only way we got away. Then she let someone adopt me. I really think she sold me, though. I was adopted into a big family, but I was really an unpaid servant."
"That's called slavery, Ness," he said with heat. "I don't fault you for killing her. I would have done it myself, if I'd known." He slammed the wall with his open palm. "Why didn't we know? We're thieves. It's our business to know what goes on in Riften."
Nessa shrugged. "I think those who knew were too frightened to speak up and maybe no one really wanted to believe it." She looked down at her hands, remember the way she'd twisted the garrote around the woman's crepey neck. "I killed her."
Stooping down next to her chair, Brynjolf took her hands into his own and made eye contact with her. "I know you did, lass. I found Aventus. I gave him the toy soldier."
A sharp gasp of surprise escaped Nessa. "Why? I mean… thank you. I wanted him to have it. I didn't know I wouldn't be able to give it to him."
Dropping her hands, Brynjolf stood and ran a hand through his hair. "We thought you were dead, lass. I wasn't entirely sure until Delvin told me he spoke to Astrid and she confirmed it. Why couldn't you have told us? Why the lies?"
With a heart full of regret and eyes full with apology, she said: "I broke the rules, Byrnjolf. I killed someone. You told me…."
He stared at her, horror growing on his face. "No. That's not what I meant, Nessa. You weren't to kill unnecessarily on the job. It didn't mean you couldn't kill—well, not that we want people going around killing but—there were circumstances in play here, lass. Anyone could see that."
Closing her eyes for a moment, she remembered how Mercer had taken an instant dislike to her. "Are you sure Guildmaster Frey would agree with you on that?"
That comment stopped him. Of course Frey would have thrown her out of the guild on the slightest pretense, he'd never liked her. Brynjolf had no clue why. It was just one of those things. Maybe Frey envied her somehow. Perhaps she reminded him of someone, a lost love, a sister… someone that made him feel vulnerable. A guy like Frey hates feeling vulnerable. "Mercer didn't need to know, lass. He doesn't know half of what goes on in the guild. I'm not sure he even cares anymore."
"Well, the Dark Brotherhood took me. I interfered in their business. I didn't even know they were a real thing. I figured they were just stories Grelod told to scare us." She laughed bitterly. "There's some irony there."
"What happened when they took you, Nessa?"
This was harder to talk about. Maybe she shouldn't tell him. Her eyes dropped back to her hands again and she was silent for a moment, considering. "They told me I had to kill again, to pay back what I'd stolen from them. I don't think I would've lived if I hadn't done it, so I did. I killed a man. That proved to her I would follow orders."
"Her?"
"The guild leader, Astrid."
Something in the way she said it, her hesitancy, the sorrow in her voice, tipped Brynjolf off to an emotionally loaded topic. "Do you want to talk about her, Nessa?" He was curious, but she'd been through enough for the time being.
Holding her breath, she considered for a few moments. Then she began to breathe again. "No." She looked intently at Brynjolf. "I didn't want to leave the thieves' guild, but I couldn't go back, or so I thought. I had nowhere else to go so… I took up her invitation to join the guild."
"I see." He rubbed his hand against his cheeks where three days of scruff had accumulated. "Are you happy there?"
She stood up abruptly, forgetting how weak she was and nearly lost her balance. "Oh!" She grabbed Brynjolf's shoulders and he steadied her. He didn't let go when she regained her balance and neither did she. "I could really use a bath and some clean clothing. I don't suppose this place has those amenities?"
Noticing the sudden subject change, Brynjolf knew he'd strayed into sensitive territory again. It was all right. It might take time to pry the details from her, but he could do it. "Maybe we're pushing too fast, lass. You're still unsteady on your feet."
She dropped her hands and found her balance was fine. "I was just a little lightheaded, is all."
"All right. Let's get clear of this place. I don't think anyone but me really saw you. That mask hid your identity. I'll get you some clean clothes and we'll get out of here tonight if you're feeling good enough to travel a little ways." He helped her back to the bed and got her settled in again. "Rest today, Ness."
He pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and smiled at her. The smile she returned was layered in pain, physical and emotional, humiliation, and shame. That ripped the little hole in his heart larger. She hadn't answered his question, but that had been all the answer he needed. He kissed her on the forehead to reassure her.
His tender gestures, his kindness, his patience with her made the tears prickle at the back of her eyes again. "Why…," she nearly choked on the words, "Why are you bothering, Brynjolf?"
"What happened to you is my fault, lass. I might've done something to stop it from happening. Up until your guild leader—Astrid?—told us you were dead I carried around one of the ribbons you used to wear. I should have taken you away, hidden you. Maybe Delvin could've called in a favor… I don't know. I didn't do enough." A pained look swept over his face. "I didn't do anything, Ness."
The confession stunned her. He felt he should have protected her? That he had even cared enough to carry around a reminder of her… she had no idea. They looked at each other, self-recrimination in both of their eyes and suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, her voice hoarse with emotion. "It wasn't your job to look after me, Bryn. I'm the one that messed up, not you."
Squeezing her gently, she could feel him shaking his head. "No, lass. Don't blame yourself." He pulled away from her and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "I've missed you. I thought you were gone. When I saw you, I knew I'd been given another chance to make it right." Her eyes began to shine with tears again and her lip trembled. "And… I've got you crying again." He wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek. "I've got to stop doing that."
"I'm sorry. It's just… unexpected." She felt a strong urge to kiss him, her eyes dropped to his mouth for a brief moment, but then she thought of Arnbjorn and Astrid. She still loved them both; it would feel too much like a betrayal. She unwound her arms from around his neck. "I think maybe I'm overly tired." She managed a half-smile and blinked away the tears.
"Of course. You rest up. We'll get out of here tonight, eh?" He sat a moment longer looking at the girl. She was still shaken from nearly dying, confused, vulnerable. Ordinarily, it'd be an opportune time to take advantage of the situation. A bloody knight in shining armor, that's what he was. It'd be a minute's work to get her out of her small clothes… but he stopped short of kissing her. Strong. He wanted her strong, not dependent, not grateful. If he kissed her, how would he know whether or not she kissed him out of gratitude or for other reasons?
He stood up, feeling confused. He'd never rejected a woman's advances that were born out of gratitude. What is wrong with me? "Sleep tight, Ness. I'll be back this evening."
Snuggling into the bed, she nodded at the thief. "I'll see you tonight, Bryn." She closed her eyes and only her exhaustion settled the thoughts swirling around in her mind. Sleep claimed her quickly.
There was no such easy escape for Brynjolf. His thoughts hounded him throughout Solitude as he went about town procuring clothes for Nessa. He'd always liked the girl—woman, he corrected himself—but he'd thought of her as a younger sister, his protégé, someone to train to be real rainmaker for the guild. The beginning had been promising. She was as stealthy as a sabre cat.
You wouldn't think it to look at her. She was more like the stealth of spring, like the way the mountain crocuses peeked through the melting ice, or the stealth that pushed the pink or white blossoms through the hard bark. Then, when you had no idea, suddenly the sky was that kind of blue that you hadn't seen for what seems like a lifetime. And those trees that looked dead the last time you bothered to look, they were outlined in pink, and the steady drip, drip, drip of melting ice becoming the quiet murmur of a rivulet—that's the only stealth you'd expect of Nessa if you looked at her.
You've lost your mind. He chided himself for the ridiculous thoughts. The Dark Brotherhood had obviously seen exactly what he'd seen. A useful set of skills wrapped in an unusual package. He cut off that line of distracting thought and went about his business. The shopkeepers were, as usual, talkative and eager to discuss the latest events and share all the rumors about the assassination. There had been a crackdown on Argonians as the assassin was identified as one of the lizard people. There was also a rumor of a second assassin, but most of the witnesses had only seen the Argonian. The details of the second assassin were very sketchy. Some said it was an Altmer, others a thin Nord. No one seemed to make the claim it was a woman. That was all to the good. No one would think anything of it when he passed through the gate with a drunken woman leaning on him this evening.
He considered a red tavern girl's dress and almost bought it on impulse. He could picture it against her pale skin—skin that would be in ample evidence judging by the cut of the neckline. Pity it wasn't practical. The cut would show too much of her wounded shoulder. He sighed and settled on a plainer dress and a cap that would cover her hair. It wouldn't do to attract any undue attention, and he wasn't likely the only one to notice Nessa in a red tavern girl's dress.
At sunset he returned to the decaying thieves' guild under Solitude. Nessa stirred as he entered her room and blinked at him sleepily. "Brynjolf?"
"I'm here lass. I've brought you some clothes." He laid the clothes on the end of the bed. "Nothing fancy, we don't want to attract attention."
Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she sat up and then stood for the second time that day. She did feel better this time. She slipped the dress on over her leather leggings she still wore. She tried to put the hat on her head but winced with pain when she tried to lift her arm above her shoulder.
"I'll do it." Brynjolf took the hood from her. "Your braids are mostly undone. Maybe I should take them out?"
She nodded. Brynjolf gently unwound the braids and combed her hair with his fingers. It felt nice having someone stroke her hair. She closed her eyes and relaxed. He put the cap on her and tied it behind her head. It was the sort that women wore to keep their hair out of their work or cover dirty, unwashed hair.
He helped her put her boots on and then stepped back to admire his work. Nessa looked like a pretty young housewife. There was certainly nothing about her that suggested assassin. The only thing that didn't quite work were the boots she wore under the dress. "I didn't think of shoes, lass. Well, perhaps no one will notice."
"Hopefully my horse will still be there. I also left a pack of belongings outside Solitude we can pick up." She looked around the room. "I don't suppose my bow made it." She looked at Brynjolf hoping that her favorite bow had survived her panicked escape.
"Sorry lass, you must have dropped along the way. You did have a dagger though." He dug through his own pack and handed it to her.
She took it from him and strapped it to her leg. "I probably can't even use it yet, but I feel better with it." Pausing a moment she considered the purpose she'd nearly utilized it for, to kill herself. "Did you happen to find a bottle?"
A second rummaging through his pack and he pulled out the bottle. "Sleeping draught is what Enthir said. Were you planning on poisoning the bride?" He held it out for her.
"No. That was meant for me. If I failed to get away I was going to drink it." She reached out to take it but he pulled it away.
"By Mara, girl! What on earth for? Wouldn't your benighted guild spring you out of prison? They'd just leave you to rot?" He voice had heat as he looked at the girl. "We'd never let one of our own sit in jail."
Sighing, she crossed her arms. "Do you really think they would've just locked me up and tell me I'd been a very naughty girl? Sweet divines, Brynjolf, they'd most likely torture me to find out who hired me and where the Dark Brotherhood hideout is. Give me the potion."
Narrowing his eyes, Brynjolf handed her the potion. "This job isn't any good for you, Ness. It damn near got you killed. Next time you might not be so lucky."
She frowned at the thief. This line of conversation needed to end. "It is what it is. How do we get out of here?"
He knew "shut up" when he heard it, even if those exact words weren't uttered. "This way."
Brynjolf led her out of the old thieves' guild. It let them out in an inconspicuous place in the graveyard, not entirely dissimilar to the thieves' guild in Riften. He had to help her up a ladder. Climbing out was a painful proposition and impossible to do with just one arm. Her sprained ankle was shrieking with pain by the time they got outside.
"Here," he said, handing her a bottle of mead. "Drink that up for the pain. Smelling like alcohol will make our cover story a little more believable too." He opened a bottle for himself and started drinking.
"Cover story?" She took a long drink of the mead. It tasted good, she had to admit.
"We're a couple of drunks leaning on one another."
They drank down their meads and it wasn't entirely an act for Nessa. It took more than one mead ordinarily, she was a Nord after all, but she hadn't eaten much in several days so the drink hit her harder than she expected. She clutched the empty bottle in one hand and let Brynjolf support her as they staggered to the front gate. Feeling tipsy, she looked up into his face and smiled blearily. "I missed the thieves' guild you know. Rune… Vipir… Delvin… Okay, maybe not Vex, she was a bit mean."
Hitching her closer, his arm wrapped tightly around help her walk, he looked down at her. "There seems to be a name missing from that list."
"Well, the other ones, I missed them too." She smiled mischievously at him. "And you, I missed you." The drink seemed to have short circuited her better judgment. "I always liked your voice," she murmured. "So… reassuring and calm. Even when things were going to shit, you always seemed un…un…."
"Unflappable?" He grinned down at her. He'd never seen her talk so freely before.
"Yeah."
They passed the guards at the entrance, hardly even noticing them.
"Anything else?" he prompted her, taking full advantage of her sudden chattiness.
I love the way you say lass. It makes me feel special. That one stayed locked away in her heart. "Mavin. I miss Mavin. I miss the way her mouth puckers up like she's just eaten a badly cured pickle."
Chuckling, Brynjolf squeezed her with the arm wrapped around her waist. "I'll have to give Mavin your fond regards, Ness."
They tottered out of Solitude with scarcely anyone noticing them. Chatting and laughing, Nessa guided them to where she'd hidden her pack. It had most of her money, some clean small clothes and other necessities. She'd hidden this when she realized she wouldn't be able to return to the boarding house after the assassination. They hiked outside of town a couple of miles and then Nessa whistled loudly.
"Shadowmere! Here boy!" she called.
The horse seemed to coalesce out of the shadows, his carbuncle eyes visible before the rest of it appeared. He trotted up to Nessa and bumped his nose against the side of her face.
Brynjolf took a step backwards when he saw the horse. "Sweet Divines, Ness. What manner of horse is that? That thing looks like it swum up from the depths of Oblivion."
"Aw, don't listen to him, Shadowmere. He doesn't know what a sweet, good horse you are, boy." Nessa reached up and scratched the horse between the ears.
Admittedly, the horse seemed to like the girl. He nuzzled her and blew on her, greeting her like one horse greets another. "Will he bite?" Brynjolf asked.
"Shadowmere? Never. He's just a big black sweetie. Aren't you Mere-mere?" She planted a kiss on the horse's snout and his head bounced up and down. "See! He's smart too. Come on Brynjolf, he won't hurt you."
Cautiously, the thief stepped forward and slowly extended his hand. The nuzzling, kissing display ended abruptly and the devil horse's eyes grew wide. His jaws snapped at the air, just missing the end of Brynjolf's fingers by a fraction.
"Bloody Arkay!" he swore and jumped backward, nearly falling on his rump. "Sweet, my ass, Ness. Your horse wants to eat me."
"Shadowmere!" Nessa called his name sharply and the horse turned to her, his ears swiveling forward making him look contrite. "Don't be nasty to Brynjolf. He saved my life and he's a friend." She stood, weight mostly on her good leg, and put her hands on her hips. "Apologize to him."
"I'm sorry, horse. I didn't mean what I said about the depths of Oblivion."
Rolling her eyes, Nessa turned to Byrnjolf. "Not you. The horse."
Looking remorseful the horse turned to Brynjolf and snorted softly. He pawed the ground several times then turned back to his mistress and nuzzled her again.
"All right. I think we're all okay now," Nessa said.
"Easy for you to say." Despite his misgivings, Brynjolf approached the horse again and this time the horse didn't react. "All right, big fella. A truce, eh?" He put a hand on the horse and it continued to behave. "I guess we're okay."
Brynjolf helped Nessa mount the horse and then he got up behind her and took the reins. "There's an inn a couple of hours ride from here. Think you can ride that long, lass?"
She nodded. The mead was wearing off and the pain was returning, but it wasn't anything she couldn't bear, especially with Brynjolf against her back and his arms almost around her, guiding Shadowmere. She took a long breath and relaxed as Solitude fell away behind them.
~o~o~o~
"Let's take a look at that shoulder before you go to bed," Brynjolf told her after they secured a room at the inn, the last one. It had two beds. Just as well, after three hours of having Nessa's body pressed against his, he wasn't sure how gentlemanly he could be, even as tired as he was. Nessa was in even worse shape. She fallen asleep on the horse and he'd had to hold her close to keep her from falling off. As much as she'd been complaining about wanting a hot bath, there was no way she had the energy for it this night.
Her only response was a muffled grumble as she buried her face in her pillow as she collapsed onto the bed, still fully dressed.
"Come on now, lass." He helped her sit up and unbuttoned her dress. She stood and the dress fell to her feet, leaving her in her leather leggings, boots, and breast band. "All right, back on the bed."
She obeyed, her mind and body feeling like they were encased in lead. His gentle hands removed the old dressing, poured healing potion into the wound and rebound it. "It's looking much better. Still hurts?"
"Mmmm," she mumbled. Her eyes were closed and her breath was already sounding deep and regular.
"All right then, lass." He untied her cap and let her hair down, then he took her boots off, and covered her in a fur. He stared at her a moment, completely sure she was asleep, kissed her cheek gently, and spoke in a low voice. "Tomorrow, my Nessa. Tomorrow, when you're rested up and you've had that long soak in a tub, you and I are going to have a long, difficult talk. So sleep well, lass."
He got himself ready for bed and took the bed two arms lengths away from her. It felt like the distance was far vaster than that. "G'night, lass."
The Void
"My lady," Shadowmere bowed low before his mistress, the Night Mother.
"Why hello, my faithful steed." She looked pleased with her Daedroth friend. "What is our lovely new Listener up to?"
"The thieves have found her. She travels with one now. I think he intends to steal her away from you. I could smell it, the attraction they have for one another. I'll never get the stink of that thief's pheromones out of my nostrils. Pah! I tried to bite him, but she commanded me not to." He tossed his head like a horse and it left his hair in disarray. He reached up and vaingloriously smoothed it down.
"Really!" The Night Mother shot to her feet, the tranquility of her twilight garden was disturbed by her anger. "It's Nocturnal, I warrant. If that sneaky bitch thinks she can steal my Listener, she's got another think coming." She paced back and forth, her fury disrupting the twinkling of the lightning bugs. Their perfectly synchronized flashing became chaotic and random. The impeccably still lake began to ripple and a tree lost a leaf. Such was the effect of the Night Mother's temper in her perfectly ordered world.
"Bring me my scrying bowl!" she commanded, clapping her hands to summon an attendant. A servant ran to do her biding, bringing a silver bowl filled with water from the lake. She drew a calming breath, waiting until the water stilled and the lightning bugs resumed their coordinated blinking.
"Noctural, I call upon you. Bitch of the night, show your face!" she called forth her nemesis.
The water in the bowl turned to smoke and formed a replica of the Night Mistress. "Who calls forth the Mistress of Shadows, the Empress of Murk, the Daughter of Twilight, the…."
"Oh, leave off, you murky tart. Are you trying to steal my Listener? She's mine. I spoke to her first." The Night Mother stood, hands on hips and scowled at the Daedroth dressed in the slutty gown. That hellion had no shame.
The only reaction from Nocturnal was a barely perceptible arching of one perfect eyebrow. "I saw her first, as if I even have to answer to Sithis' doxy."
"So you admit to trying to steal her?" Night Mother shot back.
"Why not? She is mine. I claimed her long before you did." Nocturnal stroked one of the crows roosting on her shoulders.
Night Mother laughed heartily. "Oh right… you have a habit of losing your things, don't you? How many times has that skeleton key of yours wandered off?"
"That has nothing to do with this!" Nocturnal snapped, finally losing her temper. The Night Mother wasn't even a Daedra, she was some dead mistress of Sithis'. She had no business demanding anything of her.
"Oh it does. What's that saying… finders keepers, losers weepers! You've lost the Dragonborn and I've found her. She's mine, so back off!" With that the Night Mother threw the water out of the bowl, effectively ending the communication.
She turned to Shadowmere and regarded him for a moment. "Hopefully that'll be the end of that. She's on notice now."
"I'm sure she's quaking in her boots, my lady," Shadowmere said, voice dripping with irony.
"Get back to Tamriel," she ordered her horse, giving him a withering look. The Daedroth departed with a bow, leaving her to her thoughts. Choosing this Listener had been a gamble, but such a fine acquisition. She'd finally be afforded respect amongst the residents of Oblivion.
The girl couldn't leave the assassins, not without risking her sanity. The Night Mother might not be able to speak to her when she was far away from her corpse, but she could send nightmares after her, haunting messages that would get her point across well enough. She was Dragonborn, true, but still mortal and she needed sleep like every other human.
There was no need to panic. She still remembered the urges of her fleshy body. No need to deny the girl, just so long as she returned to the Sanctuary to perform her duty. She sat down on a moss covered bench in her pocket of the Void and contemplated the impeccably still lake. All things were falling into order; this was merely a temporary inconvenience.
~o~o~o~
Notes: Such a long chapter! It certainly didn't go as I planned, but these characters have minds of their own sometimes. I hope you like it. Please let me know, I love hearing from readers.
Thanks to TS Hills, Guest, Jacob shives, Elealyon, Biff McLaughlin, Zevgirl, Heiwako, Inuyashagirl2015, Janele, Nightlain for your reviews.
Guest – sorry, you don't care for my story. Wish I could read "Sons of Ksyrim" but it appears to be gone.