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>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
Brynjolf/F!DB, "Peace" [1.1/?]
Date: 2012-11-08 06:23 am (UTC)Title: Peace
Pairing: Brynjolf/F!Breton!DB
Summary: This is what comes from secrets, he figures, and especially those of the Dovahkiin. Not that he’d known they were one in the same.
Tags: es:skyrim, race:Nord, race:Breton, relationship:het, char:brynjolf, char:F!DB, kink:size, kink:age difference
A sigh of contentment lifts Brynjolf’s chest up, flattening it with his breath’s leaving. This is the most relaxed he’s felt in a long while, sitting back and just watching people come and go on jobs for the Guild. He watches as people return with smug satisfaction, and in turn, he feels it too. The Guild is back on its feet, jobs are being successfully completed, and Brynjolf hasn’t seen this much wealth flowing through the Guild since he joined. That was ages ago, under Gallus’ reign.
It was days like this that he really felt…well…old. Getting old, at the least. He knew it was just because he was at rest, thinking – a very dangerous thing – but he couldn’t exactly avoid the thought that his life was slowly whittling down to a fine point. A flutter of restlessness settles into his heart where satisfaction ought to be. He shuffles in place as if to find a more comfortable position to settle into.
Never in his life has Brynjolf ever considered settling down, starting a family or even remotely leaving his lot with the Guild. Until recently.
This whole business with Nocturnal, after so many near-death experiences all packed into one Dwarven ruin, served as the driving force behind his daydreams and those he’d have at night, whether good or bad, it didn’t matter. All Brynjolf knew was that he was getting older, and soon enough the thought came that it was time to make a decision about his life. One way or another he was going to serve a Daedric prince in the afterlife. Would he rather live a long and quiet life before that, or throw the rest of his days into the less-than-safe life he knew and loved? The Guild was his home. It was all he knew, and all he’d ever need to. Or so he thought.
Sometimes he caught himself daydreaming of the life he could have had. His mistakes were either lamentations or fond memories of his youth, when fumbling out of his clothes and into a woman’s bed was a milestone marking manhood. Was he really that old, or was he just a fool after a near-death experience, trying to make amends for a life of crime?
Well.
He didn’t really regret his thieving, per se. Maybe he regretted the few bad roads it led him down, but those days were long over. Leave the stones where they lay and all that.
Brynjolf has never once been a romantic. Pragmatic from the day he was born and tossed into the streets of Riften, he knows not to wont for things out of reach. A life of love is not for his ilk – too messy, too risky, too many strings attached. Yet here he is, thinking of all the scenarios, the could-have, should-have, would-haves, the could-have-beens and never-will-bes, with his feet in the Cistern, cool water keeping him as grounded as possible through his reveries.
Brynjolf/F!DB, "Peace" [1.2/?]
Date: 2012-11-08 06:29 am (UTC)In these daydreams, he imagines a quiet little family in a quiet home, usually nothing extravagant – just enough for them to be happy – sitting down by the fire and telling stories to his daughter, whoever she might be. He is always laughing, animatedly talking of his youth, hands gesticulating wildly as he mimics some sort of wild animal. His daughter cannot stop giggling. By his side, his wife lays her hand on his shoulder, eyes as warm as the fond smile she tilts in his direction. He can just tell that they’re married. Not by the rings, no, but the understanding and compassion of the woman with him. Once it was a comely lady from his youth who bore the role of his wife, but lately that part has been monopolized by someone he still knows.
The Guild Master strode into the Cistern, stopping at her bed to deposit some items into the chest on its right. She made short conversation with Sapphire before moving on to Thrynn, apparently relating a story of some sort to him.
That someone he still has connections to is in his thoughts wouldn’t necessarily bother him on any odd day. It was the matter that she was all he seemed capable of thinking about lately. Most definitely out of the usual and far out of Brynjolf’s comfort zone. The lass was his boss, his partner in crime – even sworn to the same Daedric prince. He was there when she first strode in to Riften, donning the robes of a mage yet slinking through the crowds with a humble demeanor. Brynjolf would admit, he hadn’t thought her anything special upon first sighting, just a tiny Breton new to the world around her, but lately he’d begun to notice her in ways he hadn’t before. What once he thought of as nothing more than his fellow Guildmate he now thought of as a companion during some sort of half-brained retirement? Brynjolf was convinced he was going mad.
The Guild Master was, like most Bretons, a very small girl with proportionately small features. Her complexion was on the warm side of pale, clear evidence that she did not live a life of toil before her venture into Skyrim; meanwhile her eyes, of a round shape, were a soft brown that stood in stark contrast to her strawberry blonde hair, now neatly hidden beneath her hood. Brynjolf knew the locks to be short and unkempt. It was, as he’d come to think, rather endearing when her hair stood up at all ends (which it usually did). When Brynjolf had first seen her, he’d thought she was a particularly short man from behind.
He’s watching her as she turns her head, their eyes meeting before he can stop it. His heart seizes for just a moment as she pulls back her hood and smiles in his direction. This, he reminds himself, this is the time to stop. There’s no reason for it, but he knows that she can’t know. They know each other far too well for Brynjolf to keep secrets from her. Normally it isn’t hard to avoid her, what with the time she spends away from the Guild – weeks, over a month, once; not that Brynjolf has been keeping track of her comings and goings – but now it seems most of her time is spent with the Guild.
“Brynjolf!” She calls across the Cistern, grinning, one arm raised above her head in greeting.
He moves his feet from the water, shoving them into his boots while he tries to stand. As he does so, her expression falls into one of confusion. Brynjolf feels badly, really, but it’s for the best. Probably.
“Brynjolf, wait up!” The Guild Master chases after him as he heads for the door to the Ragged Flagon, her second-in-command fleeing guiltily from her presence. He’s a bit too slow though, he realizes, when he feels her fingers clasp around his pauldron, swinging him around to face her. Her brows are drawn down in confusion, but her lips quirked up at the edges, as if amused. “Got a minute? I thought we might talk.”
He sucks in a breath, bracing for her disappointment. “Sorry, lass. I’ve got important things to do,” Brynjolf begins, pausing to sigh. He’s gone with this easy lie before, and he knows it’s going to get smashed to pieces soon, if not now. “We’ll speak another time.”
Brynjolf/F!DB, "Peace" [1.3/?]
Date: 2012-11-08 06:33 am (UTC)“Look. I don’t exactly have the patience to deal with your jokes right now,” he tells her bluntly.
“Come on, Bryn! You told me you were busy last time we spoke. That was nearly two weeks ago! Since when have you been too busy to talk to a friend?” She narrows her eyes as he shakes his head at her. “If not as a friend, then business. Guild Master to her second-in-command?”
He snorts, snapping back at her before he can stop himself, “Now you’re concerned with business?”
She frowns, demeanor changing. It’s very odd – meek but enough to let him know she’s trying to be firm with him. “I’ve been doing jobs for the Guild, Brynjolf. Please don’t imply otherwise.”
“Between what? Exploring every nook and cranny in Skyrim?”
“My business is my own,” she says quietly, drawing into herself. This is her being defensive, he realizes, remembering how quietly she’d stood at Karliah’s side when they came to him with Gallus’s journal. But then again, there’s something different from that moment, when he looks at the way she stands. Her stance is more forthright, confident, as opposed to the way she had held herself meekly behind the Dunmer woman.
“And my business is mine, Pax.” With that he turns, intent on drinking away this conversation. Yet again, he feels himself being tugged backward – but this time, the action is rough, wrapped up in emotion. He’s expecting the Guild Master to look upset, perhaps hurt, by his rebuke. Certainly not angry; in all the time he’d known her, not once had he ever seen her angry. Hell, not even with Mercer! But the emotion he met was unmistakably fury as he levels his gaze at her.
“Do not walk away from me like that, Brynjolf! You give me the respect deserving of your Guild Master!”
Brynjolf/F!DB, "Peace" [1.4/?]
Date: 2012-11-08 06:36 am (UTC)There’s fire in her eyes and on her tongue. Pax snarls as she all but roars back at Brynjolf, “Don’t forget who got the Guild back on its feet! Without me, you wouldn’t even have a Guild to call home anymore! Can I not speak to you? Am I not important enough to you to afford just a fraction of your apparently precious, precious time?”
“I never said that—”
“You might as well have!”
Brynjolf glances over her, his instincts telling him that they’ve drawn a crowd. And like usual, his instincts are right. “Lass, you’d better quiet down—”
“No!” She hisses. He looks at her then, really looks at her. Something isn’t right. His Pax, the Pax he knows, wouldn’t ever shout at him like this. “You do not speak to me like that, mortal! You will not silence a dovah!”
“Dovah?” His brows wrinkle together. “What in Shor’s name is that supposed to mean?”
It’s as if he’s just struck Pax from whatever possessed her to act so out of character. The flame burning in her eyes is gone, replaced by wide confusion melting into fear. “I—oh.” She blanches when she looks over her shoulder at the crowd. They scatter almost as soon as she does so, back to the mundane tasks they go about daily. Out of fear or embarrassment Brynjolf isn’t sure. She looks down at her feet, at the walls of the narrow corridor, anything to avoid his gaze.
“Lass? Are you alright?” He reaches an arm out to touch her shoulder, but is startled when Pax backs up, staring back at him. There’s wild, unguarded fear written all over her face, in the way her eyes are wide like an elk before the saber cat bites it round the neck.
“I don’t know.” He thinks he hears her murmur, head shaking back and forth. She darts away into the Cistern. And for whatever reason, Brynjolf doesn’t follow her.
Re: Brynjolf/F!DB, "Peace" [1.4/?]
Date: 2012-11-08 01:53 pm (UTC)And I love they interplay between the DB name and the title. Very clever.
Re: Brynjolf/F!DB, "Peace" [1.4/?]
Date: 2012-11-08 10:46 pm (UTC)And no worries, I totally know how bad finals time gets, cause I've got mine coming up sooner than I'd like.
Re: Brynjolf/F!DB, "Peace" [1.4/?]
Date: 2012-11-23 05:55 am (UTC)