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female dohvakin/brynjolf
Date: 2013-06-01 09:45 pm (UTC)Safe 1/?
Date: 2013-06-19 11:03 pm (UTC)Pairing: F!DB/Brynjolf
Summary: When the Dragonborn disappears on a job in Markarth, Brynjolf doesn't think it could get much worse. Then she comes back.
Helpful tags: relationship:het, kink:angst, kink:hurt/comfort
1
"You know she's not coming back, Bryn. The little bitch probably snagged that goblet, found herself a fence, and is halfway across High Rock by now. I told you-"
Brynjolf held up a hand to silence Vex's relentless accusations of their newest recruit.
"I don't believe that," he replied smoothly.
He wasn't willing to write Githa off just yet. The lass had said she'd never been to Markarth before, and it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she had gotten lost along the way. Or she had stopped to help someone - she wasn't the kind to turn down an opportunity to make a little coin, even if the task temporarily kept her from completing other objectives. She was a blunt lass, too, so if she had, as Vex suggested, defected from the Guild after only a couple of months, she'd have let them know in no uncertain terms.
Still, it had been almost three weeks since the Guild had gotten word of her, and Markarth was a two-day ride at most. None of their scant contacts inside the city had even seen a woman matching her description. Something was amiss, but Brynjolf couldn't put his finger on it.
"Your faith is touching, Bryn, but we know-"
"It's not faith, Vex," Brynjolf answered coldly. "Githa knows she's better off with us than without us. She already got us a foothold in Whiterun. We're on our way out of this slump. No reason to ditch us now."
"We know she's not with the Brotherhood," Delvin piped up from the bar, patting his chest pocket where he kept a letter that had turned up three days ago from Falkreath. "Astrid said she'd keep an eye out, though."
"Or she got caught," Tonilia offered, setting an empty mug in front of Vekel. "Markarth is a hard town to hide in if you don't know your way around."
Vex scoffed. "Markarth is plenty easy to hide in. You've got the temple, the Warrens, a dozen walkways to sneak under. Not to mention the waterways. If she couldn't get past the guards there, she deserved to get caught."
"Heart of gold you got there, Vex," Delvin said, smirking.
Brynjolf pinched the bridge of his nose and roughly pushed his chair back from the table before stalking across the Ragged Flagon and into the Cistern.
Mercer was pouring over the books at his desk as Brynjolf approached him.
"Before you ask, the answer is no," the older man said gruffly without even looking up.
"You don't even know what I was going to say," Brynjolf protested.
Mercer stood up and stared at Brynjolf with a narrow gaze. "We don't have the manpower necessary to track down your little protégé, and I'm not entirely convinced that she hasn't just run off. Can't say I'm not sorry she's gone - she's been making us a lot of money - but she's not worth sending bodies we can't spare to turn Skyrim over looking for her."
"What if I went out?"
Mercer shook his head. "We need you here. You're the best coordinator I've got. Without you, our operation doesn't run smoothly."
Brynjolf scowled and kicked a leg of the desk. "I can't do nothing, Mercer."
Mercer frowned. "Why is this bothering you so much? We've had members desert before."
"She didn't desert us," Brynjolf snapped, more loudly than he had intended. He took a moment to compose himself before continuing. "Something is wrong. I can feel it."
Mercer sighed. "Even so, my decision stands. The answer is no."
Brynjolf turned and made his way to their roughshod dining area and poured himself a cup of ale. As he finished downing the first cup and began pouring a second, Sapphire sidled up to him.
"If it's any consolation, I don't think she deserted us, either."
Brynjolf grunted in reply. "Heard that, did you?"
She smiled, a rare sight. "I think they heard you in Eastmarch." She glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot and lowered her voice. "Listen, I've got a job in Solitude. I'm leaving in the morning. If you want, I'll take a little trip down to Markarth when I'm done to see if I can find anything out."
Brynjolf stared at the amber liquid in his cup. Mercer wouldn't like it. Finally he took a breath and nodded.
"Do it."
Re: Safe 1/?
Date: 2013-06-21 05:42 am (UTC)Re: Safe 1/?
Date: 2013-06-25 12:27 am (UTC)Safe 2/?
Date: 2013-06-25 05:41 am (UTC)The following days passed slowly as Brynjolf waited, anxious for any word. He tired of handing out assignments to thieves who had far too much talent to waste on such meager offerings, and every night that gave way to dawn made him more and more restless until Sapphire finally returned.
After she had settled up with Delvin, she sauntered over to Brynjolf, who sat tucked away at a table on the platform in the center of the Flagon, drinking alone as the rest bantered among themselves.
"What news, lass?" he asked quietly, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.
"She's in the mines," Sapphire replied solemnly, taking the seat across from him.
"She got caught," he sighed, unable to hide his disappointment.
Githa was the best earner they had at the moment. She was still pretty green, but she was a better sneak than most of the Guild except the most senior members. And Vex was right - Markarth was easy to hide in even if you didn't know it well, and the lass was a quick study. Brynjolf wasn't one to doubt his instincts, but he just didn't understand how she could have gotten caught on such a simple job unless he had overestimated her skills.
"It wasn't the burglary," Sapphire replied, shaking her head. "She didn't even have time to steal the goblet before she got caught up in a feud between the Forsworn and the Silver-Bloods. Ygnvar said Thonar sent her to the King in Rags. She was set up, Bryn."
Brynjolf had only heard stories of Madanach, the dishonored Forsworn leader imprisoned at the heart of Cidhna Mine. The man was proud and brutal and would stop at nothing to see the Reach reclaimed by his kinfolk. Worse yet, he was intelligent. Nothing was more dangerous than a smart man convinced of the righteousness of his cause.
"We have to get her out of there," he said finally.
Sapphire scoffed. "With our luck lately? The Silver-Bloods have that place locked up tighter than a drum. Two guards at the exterior entrance and another posted right next to the gate. And guard shifts are kept irregular and assigned only a couple of hours before they start. Trust me, I checked."
Brynjolf produced a coin from his pocket and rolled it between his knuckles, a nervous habit he'd picked up years ago. It kept him calm and helped him think.
"We can't get the guard schedule from Yngvar?"
Sapphire's eyebrows shot up. "Please. You don't want to know what I had to give him to get that much out of him. He's really touchy about the Silver-Bloods. Besides, I'm not sure he'd know. The last thing Thonar wants is word getting out that he's kept Madanach alive all these years. I'd wager he's the only one who knows which guards get assigned to the mine and when."
Brynjolf let his breath slide out between his teeth. "We need a man on the inside."
Sapphire barked out a laugh. "The best man we could send inside is already inside. You know as well as I do that anyone else would botch the job, probably through no fault of their own. It's just the way things go these days."
"This isn't a normal prison sentence, lass. If Silver-Blood sent her to the King in Rags, he doesn't expect her to be there long. We have to get her out."
Sapphire shrugged, fully aware that Brynjolf wouldn't let this go. "I'm not convinced that we can do it, but fine. What do you need from me?"
He grinned, trapping the coin between his knuckles and standing, fueled by new resolve.
"I need you to help me convince Mercer that there's coin to be made breaking into the mine."
"Oh," Sapphire replied dryly as she got to her feet. "Is that all?"
Re: Safe 2/?
Date: 2013-06-25 01:05 pm (UTC)Also, this: "Nothing was more dangerous than a smart man convinced of the righteousness of his cause." SO, SO TRUE.
Re: Safe 2/?
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2013-06-28 07:03 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: Safe 2/?
Date: 2013-06-26 11:48 am (UTC)Anyway, this story is awesome so far. I can't wait for the next chapter, even if I'm afraid of what they'll find.
Re: Safe 2/?
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2013-06-26 12:56 pm (UTC) - ExpandSafe 3/?
Date: 2013-07-07 01:32 pm (UTC)"And just what were you doing in Markarth?"
Mercer leaned against his desk with his arms crossed, unimpressed by their proposal.
Sapphire shrugged. "I went to visit a friend."
"Uh-huh." Mercer cast a reproachful glance at Brynjolf. "We don't do jailbreaks anymore."
"We're not talking about a jailbreak. We're talking about carting off more silver in one job than we see in a year. If we rescue the lass at the same time, all the better for us."
"We're thieves, Brynjolf, not miners."
"Markarth been mining silver for centuries," Brynjolf countered. "The prisoners have to put the ore somewhere. And then the ore gets smelted, and they have to put the ingots somewhere."
"Somewhere," Mercer repeated dully. "If all you've got are hypothetical-"
"They keep it in the Treasury House," Sapphire interjected easily. "There's a stockpile locked behind the front counter. I've seen it. It won't be the easiest of locks to pick, but it can be done."
Mercer nodded slowly. "And where does the mine come in?"
"There's only one way out of Cidhna Mine," Sapphire continued. "Through the front gate. They pile the mined ore on trolleys for a week, and then they bring it out through the entrance."
"Which Silver-Blood keeps guarded like his life depends on it. The shift changes often and unpredictably. How do you propose getting around his sentries?"
Brynjolf smirked. "We let our man get caught. Bury him and the lass under the ore piles on the carts, the Silver-Bloods do our work for us."
Mercer scoffed. "You don't think they'll inspect the shipment?"
Sapphire shook her head. "There's a saying in Markarth - 'no one escapes Cidhna Mine.' The Silver-Bloods believe that more than anyone else. They've gotten cocky. Which means they've gotten lazy. No one checks those carts anymore."
"Where do the carts go after they're brought out?"
"There's a smelter in Riverside, does all the smelting for the mine. They won't get to it right away. Our people wait until dark, slip out, and take the payload with them."
Mercer's eyes darted between her and Brynjolf, trying to read their faces. Finally he waved his hand dismissively. "I'll consider it."
When he said no more, Brynjolf and Sapphire took their leave of the Guildmaster, walking toward the training room.
"Was any of that true, lass?" Brynjolf asked in hushed tones after they were out of earshot.
Sapphire shrugged, smirking. "Half of it. Maybe." She sighed and leaned against the wall. "So, how do you actually plan to get her out?"
Brynjolf shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm still working on it, lass."
"Yeah? Well, work faster. Once Mercer decides we can go through with it, he'll want it done as soon as possible."
The brunette sauntered away toward her usual spot near the secret exit out of the Cistern while Brynjolf continued to the training room. He was relieved to find the room empty when he arrived. He didn't need any of the other Guild members intruding on his thoughts.
He wondered if the scheme they sold to Mercer might work. They had made up most of what they told him, and everything the Guildmaster demanded to know were factors they had to account for. Unfortunately, their contacts in Markarth were few and far between these days, and having them suss out the necessary information would take time Brynjolf didn't think they had.
He practiced his knife work on the training dummies for over an hour, the wheels in his head turning while all he could come up with was to let their man get caught and have him and Githa formulate their own escape. Assuming the lass was still alive.
No, he reminded himself. Unless otherwise informed, they had to assume that she was alive and capable of escape, whatever form it came in.
He turned next to unarmed combat. Knife work was all well and good, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as punching the tight bundles of straw that made up their dummies. His frustration was mounting, and he wanted something solid that would buckle under the force of his fists and remind him of his strength.
Safe 3.5/?
Date: 2013-07-07 01:33 pm (UTC)"What do you think, Mercer?" he asked as casually as he could manage.
Mercer scowled. "You expect me to make a decision on an enormously risky job you proposed only three hours ago? Give me a week."
The lass didn't have a week, Brynjolf wanted to say, but he knew he had to make as little mention of Githa as possible or the older man would refuse him outright. He nodded reluctantly.
"A week, then."
He walked across the Cistern to the Flagon's door, trying to maintain his normal gait, trying to think of a way to press Mercer into making a decision sooner. He just hoped the lass could take care of herself until he did.
Safe 4/?
Date: 2013-07-19 05:30 am (UTC)By the end of the week, Brynjolf could barely keep himself together. He accepted any occupation offered to him - collecting from people who had defaulted on their loans, balancing the books for Mercer, helping Vekel unload a shipment of Alto wine. Anything at all to keep himself from launching a full-scale one-man attack on Cidhna Mine.
"Must be love," Delvin quipped one night, slipping onto a barstool next to Brynjolf, who was downing his third cup of mead in an hour.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm talking about the girl."
Brynjolf frowned. "It's not unreasonable to be worried about the lass."
"No," Delvin replied slowly, "but you ain't exactly been acting the way you normally do when you're worried. You've been cagey as hell all week, and in all the years I've known you, I've only seen you like this twice. And both times, there was a woman involved."
Brynjolf stared at the remains of his drink and contemplated the older thief's words. He knew he hadn't been himself lately. He shoved the empty mug aside.
"She's my responsibility, Delvin," he said finally. "I'm the one who brought her here."
Delvin shook his head. "Word is she was already living the life long before she showed up in Riften. Give yourself a break. You don't see Vex losing any sleep, and she's the one who sent Githa out there."
Brynjolf scoffed. "Well, she wouldn't, would she? Vex never did like the lass."
"Vex likes her more than she lets on, and you know it." He clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "She'll be fine."
"They sent her in there to die, Delvin."
Delvin shrugged. "She's resourceful."
"She's young."
"She's not that young. And she's a good fighter. She came back from Goldenglow with nothing but a few bruises. Better than Vex's foray over there." Delvin poked a finger at Brynjolf. "And you didn't go to pieces then."
Brynjolf waved the other man's hand away. "What do you want me to say, Delvin? That I'm..." He stopped himself and took a breath. "Why? What purpose could that possibly serve?"
Before the older thief could reply, Brynjolf got to his feet and pushed roughly past all the tables and chairs as he moved toward the Ratway. He would normally have slipped out through the Cistern, but he couldn't stand looking at the other guild members when one of their own was in trouble and no one else seemed to care.
He was grateful that he didn't have to deal with any of the lowlifes that often occupied the Ratway as he stepped out into the crisp Riften air. The darkness helped to hide him, though he was not especially interested in stealth as he let his feet carry him up the stairs from the waterway and into the marketplace.
He paused past the circle of wooden stalls, suddenly reminded of the day the odd young woman showed up in his city.
She was dressed modestly in fur armor, long chestnut hair pulled back in a careless braid, a steel dagger at her waist. He might not have paid her much mind but for the gold necklace glinting at her throat beneath her cloak and the silver ring sparkling on her index finger. Nobles and merchants never tried to hide their wealth, and the poor didn't have any wealth to hide. She couldn't have come by such trinkets honestly, and there was something in the way she scanned the people in the market that told him he had found a kindred spirit.
His suspicions were further fueled by the way she eyed him when he inquired about the source of her good fortune. She had smiled, pleasantly amused, but he noted the narrowing of her eyes. She was sizing him up, too, and he found her scrutiny both unnerving and exhilarating.
His suspicions were confirmed when she accepted his offer for a taste. Her gaze never wavered from him as he worked to distract the crowd, and yet she had a sense for when someone was watching her because she always paused just short of getting caught. By the time their ruse was over, she had cleaned out all of the merchants in addition to planting the ring on their mark and walked away without anyone accusing her of wrongdoing. She was glorious.
Safe 4.5/?
Date: 2013-07-19 05:30 am (UTC)Brynjolf wandered through the city for a long while, letting his feet carry him wherever they pleased until he found himself at the door to Honeyside.
He had never been inside her house in Riften. She rarely spent time there, and she had never invited him. She wasn't a particularly private person, but she compartmentalized her life like no one he had ever met before, and whatever she kept inside her Riften home, she kept it separate from the Thieves Guild.
It didn't matter tonight.
He placed a steady hand on the door and tried the handle. When he found it unlocked, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching before pushing the door open and slipping inside.
Re: Safe 4.5/?
Date: 2013-07-19 07:49 am (UTC)Safe 5/?
Date: 2013-07-21 06:40 am (UTC)The main floor of the Honeyside revealed how little time Githa spent inside it. Everything was pristine, from the apples in a dish on the kitchen table to the unwrinkled green blanket stretched tight over the mattress of the bed. If he hadn't known better, Brynjolf would have assumed no one had ever lived here.
The basement told a different story, though. Ingredients were scattered on tables and shelves in the first room, crumpled recipes shoddily stacked on the edge of the alchemy lab, half-empty bottles of bright liquids soaking in the tepid water of an abandoned washbasin.
In the second room, a random assortment of weapons and jewelry overflowed from a chest while pieces of armor and clothing were thrown carelessly onto mannequins, a couple of dimly glowing soul gems sitting on an enchanting station.
Brynjolf gently ran his fingers over the uneven surface of one of the gems. He knew the lass practiced alchemy, a craft he had never had much use for, and gathered ingredients like she was trying to win the world's most tedious scavenger hunt, but she had never indicated the slightest interest in enchanting. She typically saved her coin until she could buy an item already imbued with the qualities she needed. Perhaps she was trying to learn to do it herself so she could stop spending gold unnecessarily. He wished he could ask her.
He nudged open the door to a small room off the alchemy lab and found a small bedchamber. He started when he saw a large shape on the bed and relaxed when he realized it was just an outfit of steel armor laid out. A sliver of jealousy stabbed at him until his eyes, now well-adjusted to the darkness, noted the curve of the breastplate that said the armor belonged to a woman.
Was it hers, he wondered. These small quarters were infinitely more lived in than the main floor of the house, and it wouldn't have surprised him if Githa had chosen to sleep in the basement where she spent the rest of her time at home.
Brynjolf sat on the edge of the bed and berated himself. He didn't know what had compelled him to come here, to touch the things that made up her life, the things she never let him see. What was he doing?
He thought about Delvin's words back in the Flagon. He couldn't admit that the older man was right about his feelings for the lass. Admitting to them would make them real, and if she didn't come back, the resulting grief would only be worse. Try as he might, Brynjolf couldn't shake the sensation that something terrible was going to happen to her.
Maybe Delvin was right and he was overreacting. Githa was capable - that much was clear. Mercer's cold indifference was grating, but everyone else's seemed to be borne of the belief that the lass would find her own way out of her situation. Brynjolf wanted to believe that as much as anyone, but an unfamiliar kind of fear had seized him, and he knew it wouldn't go away until he saw her face again and knew she was safe.
He sighed heavily and got to his feet. He paused by the alchemy station to rifle through the recipes. One was for stronger health, another for enhancing her restoration magic. One would intensify her already considerable skills with a blade, while others were deadly poisons. He hoped she had made them all and taken them with her.
As he turned to go, Brynjolf heard the slow, faint creak of a floorboard upstairs. Angry that he hadn't heard the front door open, he swore silently as he slipped into the shadows beneath the staircase, wedging himself between two barrels to wait for the intruder.
He slowly slid his dagger out of its sheath when the footsteps approached the basement steps. Whoever had broken in would not live long enough to regret it.
"Brynjolf?"
Re: Safe 5.5/?
Date: 2013-07-21 06:40 am (UTC)"What are you doing here, lass?"
"What are you doing here?" she countered. "You're lucky Iona wasn't home, or you'd probably be dead already."
"Who in Oblivion is Iona?"
Sapphire scowled. "Githa's housecarl. She sleeps here most nights, but the jarl has her doing drills with the other guards this week."
Brynjolf tried to follow her words, but he was having trouble. "How do you know all this?"
Sapphire offered him a puzzled frown. "Githa told me."
He was taken aback by the simplicity of the statement. Githa rarely told him anything that wasn't related to a job or the organization in general.
"She just... told you?" he asked, unable to keep from feeling hurt.
Sapphire shrugged. "We have a lot in common. Tragic family histories, having a cunt, that kind of thing." Her eyes trailed from his face and rested on the dagger he still hadn't put away. "What are you doing here?"
Brynjolf stared at the knife in his hand for a long moment before sliding it back into its scabbard.
"I'm not sure," he confessed, frowning at the unpleasant vulnerability his answer revealed.
To her credit, Sapphire was unfazed by the reply.
"Well, you need to come back to the guild."
And then, finally, the words he had been going crazy all week to hear.
"Mercer has made his decision."
Re: Safe 5.5/?
Date: 2013-07-21 04:36 pm (UTC)The suspense is killing me - you HAVE to update soon. Like, now!
Re: Safe 5.5/?
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2013-07-21 07:04 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: Safe 5.5/?
Date: 2013-07-24 12:26 pm (UTC)Re: Safe 5.5/?
Date: 2013-07-25 09:45 pm (UTC)Safe 6/?
Date: 2013-07-30 07:21 am (UTC)"No."
"Mercer-"
"Did you really think I'd approve a job breaking into Skyrim's most secure prison when we don't have the skills or the intel necessary to pull it off? Especially when I know it's just an excuse to break your little protégé out of jail? Honestly, how stupid do you think I am?"
Brynjolf's blood burned with every word out of the Guildmaster's mouth. "Refusing to rescue the best investment this guild has made in twenty years?" he shot back. "Pretty fucking stupid."
Brynjolf wasn't sure it was possible for Mercer to look any colder, but somehow the older thief managed it as his face drained of color and his eyes narrowed to steely slits.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," he ground out, voice barely above a whisper. "Now go take a walk before you say something I'll let you regret."
"She'll die, Mercer," Brynjolf protested.
Mercer shrugged. "Then she dies."
Brynjolf opened his mouth, but Sapphire's hand on his arm stayed the words that would have come tumbling out. He wanted nothing more than to punch the emotionless expression off the man's face, but enough of his mind could recognize what a terrible idea it would be, so he turned on his heel and stalked into the training room.
Niruin leveled a bow at a target while Rune practiced his knifework, both of them chatting amiably between strikes.
"Get out," Brynjolf snarled, heading straight for a greatsword propped up against a barrel in the far corner. Members didn't practice with it often - everyone in the guild preferred lighter, more graceful weapons - but it was not a typical night.
"Bryn-?"
"Get out!"
Brynjolf's roar sent both men to the doorway, whispering in puzzled tones as they left the redheaded Nord to his fury.
He hefted the blade up with both hands and, before he had even adjusted to its awkward balance, he brought it down on the barrel that had previously supported it, wood splinters bursting out in every direction as salt spilled across the floor.
The guild was everything he had, he lamented as he wielded the iron in his fists, hacking at the barrel until it was little more than a pile of kindling. He had voted for Mercer to lead them. Ruthless and unforgiving as he was, Mercer was their only reasonable choice. And no matter how much he wanted to, Brynjolf couldn't bring himself to disobey the man he had spoken for. You could not follow your leader only when it was convenient to do so. If you found his decisions disagreeable, you must try sway him, and cope with it if you couldn't. Otherwise you had chosen the wrong leader.
And so Brynjolf was coping, after a fashion. As the greatsword scraped the stone floor beneath the barrel, he directed his anger at one of the nearby cupboards, splitting a shelf in two.
He could not get the lass out of his mind. Was his wrath useless now? Was she already dead? Would the King in Rags leave her whole, or would he use her bones to decorate his cell?
Brynjolf thought of her body, a body he constantly dreamed of, marked with scars she never talked about (or maybe she did - just not with him). Would Madanach flay her and fashion armor for himself from her skin? Would he wait until she was dead, or would she feel every stroke of the knife?
The thought that he might never again watch her eyes glitter in the Flagon's torchlight, pale blue like an Eastmarch blizzard, or listen to her unbridled laughter echo in every corner of the Cistern filled Brynjolf with a strength he didn't know he had as he battered the cupboard, the sword as light as a dagger in his hands.
Safe 6.5/?
Date: 2013-07-30 07:24 am (UTC)The young woman leaned on her shoulder in the doorway, her arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
"Delvin has a job for you," she said simply, unfazed by the sword leveled at her. "He wants to see you at the stables."
Brynjolf scowled and tossed the blade aside, the metal clanking against the stone floor as it skittered away from him.
"One bloody thing after another, isn't it?" he fumed. "You bastards can't do anything without my help, but the second I ask for some assistance-"
"Don't you talk like that to me," Sapphire growled, poking a finger at his chest. "Who went to Markarth when you couldn't? Who found out what happened to her in the first place? Who tried to convince Mercer to let us stage a rescue mission? Get your head out of your ass, Brynjolf - you're not the only one who's worried about her." She closed her eyes a took a deep breath to compose herself. "Now, take a minute. Then go meet Delvin."
As she turned to leave, Brynjolf finally found his voice.
"I'm sorry, lass. You're right. I should have thanked you."
"Yes," she said without glancing back at him. "You should have."
Without another word, she left him, ashamed and helpless, the wreckage of the training room scattered around his feet.
Re: Safe 6.5/?
Date: 2013-07-30 12:32 pm (UTC)Re: Safe 6.5/?
Date: 2013-07-31 12:50 am (UTC)Re: Safe 6.5/?
Date: 2013-07-31 07:05 am (UTC)Re: Safe 6.5/?
Date: 2013-07-31 09:55 pm (UTC)Also, Mercer in this is a wonderful bastard, and you got his voice down perfectly.
Update soon, please, A!A, this is addictive writing.
Safe 7/?
Date: 2013-08-05 06:49 am (UTC)When Brynjolf arrived at the stables outside the city walls, the guards that typically stood sentry had mysteriously disappeared from the north gate, as had the driver of the carriage citizens could use when traveling long distances and unable to afford a horse.
Delvin was lounging on a crate in the moonlight, scraping grit from beneath his fingernails with a dagger.
"Sapphire said you wanted to see me," Brynjolf said as he approached.
Delvin grunted. "That I did."
He nodded his head at the stalls where two dappled gray horses stood saddled and laden with bulging leather sacks.
Delvin pointed the dagger at the younger man. "You, my friend, are going to Markarth."
Brynjolf consciously smothered the wave of hope threatening to spread through his body.
"Mercer has made up his mind. He won't let anyone even consider taking a job in Markarth now, not until the whole thing blows over."
"That ain't your problem now," Delvin replied smoothly. "You let me worry about Mercer. Just get your arse to Markarth and bring her back."
"Why?" Brynjolf challenged. "You're not the type to stick your neck out on a job this risky, not even for me."
A half-smile tugged at Delvin's lips. "I know you, Bryn. A damn sight better than Mercer. You're in love with her - though you won't admit it - and you'll be useless to the rest of us until you know she's safe. Or dead."
Brynjolf raked his fingers through his hair.
"Now, don't get me wrong," the older thief continued, "I like the girl, and she's proven herself to be an asset. but I'm doing this for the good of the guild. We don't run smooth without you."
"How community-minded of you," Brynjolf muttered darkly. He nodded at the horses. "You're obviously not coming. Who's my back-up?"
"Me," a voice answered behind him as Vex walked between the two men to the horses and slung a large bag over the saddle of the smaller animal.
"You?" Brynjolf echoed, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. "You don't even like her."
"I'm the best infiltrator you've got," she said. "You won't make it out without me." She slid a boot into one of the footholds and gracefully mounted the creature. "Plus, she's our most reliable earner these days. We get her out, it's less work for me. Now come on. I wanna make Falkreath by noon."
Brynjolf looked at Delvin. "You have a plan?"
"I'll tell you on the way," Vex said, irritation evident in her tone. "Let's get going."
Brynjolf felt little choice but to do what he was told. They were both risking their places in the guild - and Vex was risking her life - to help him. Confident that his horse already carried everything they knew he would have packed himself if given the chance, Brynjolf held a hand out to Delvin.
"Thank you, my friend."
Delvin took the hand offered and gripped it. "Get her back safe."
Brynjolf knew he didn't mean Githa. He nodded and went to the horse, pulling himself up straight in the saddle.
Without waiting for further confirmation, Vex dug her heel's into her horse's sides and took off. Fighting this new thrill of hope and failing, Brynjolf followed suit and rode after her, with dawn just a few hours away and Markarth - and Githa - seeming both closer and farther than ever before.
Re: Safe 7/?
Date: 2013-08-06 05:58 pm (UTC)I have the biggest grin on my face after reading this, Anon, and after the day I've had, that's very important. Love this story.
Re: Safe 7/?
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