Etienne shot a look of confusion at Thrynn. They’d ridden hard from Riften, Brynjolf leading their motley assembly. Still none of them had been told why they were on the road and they had just reached Whiterun.
Brynjolf glanced at the thieves behind him and sighed. “We’ll stop here tonight. Come—let’s get the horses bedded down at the stables.” Knees guiding his gelding forward, he loped towards the stables. Soon the stablemaster was near a hundred septims richer for the promise of caring for the horses and Brynjolf led the thieves up the hill. Glancing over his shoulder, he shot a quick glare at the thieves. “On your best behavior, lads. And you too, Sapphire. Keep your blades clean,” he warned.
“Milord,” called one of the guards in surprise, nodding towards Brynjolf. “Welcome back to Whiterun.” He glanced behind Brynjolf, puzzlement filling his face. “Is the Dragonborn not with you?”
Brynjolf shook his head, hearing the intakes of breath behind him. “Not this time. We’re on our way to see her in Solitude.”
The gate guard grinned through his open-faced helmet. “Ah. Well, the Jarl will be glad to hear that his Thane’s husband is in residence. Stay safe, milord.”
Brynjolf could feel the questions burbling within the thieves at his back as he led them the short way from the main gate to Breezeholme. The key felt heavy in his palm as he turned it in the lock, opening the door to Katrin’s first home in Skyrim. Even all these years later they agreed that keeping the house made sense—if nothing else than as a place to bed down on long trips. “Inside, all of you,” he ordered, watching as the thieves filed into the timber-framed house. He threw home the bolt and turned to face the thieves, all of whom were looking at him expectantly. “You have questions.”
“You could say that,” muttered Sapphire, brow arched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s going on, Bryn?”
Brynjolf sighed, wiping his hand down his face. He felt like he’d aged a decade since this afternoon—all he wanted was to climb into bed with his wife and never leave her. “Sit. All of you,” he ordered, motioning to the chairs scattered around the main floor. Moving to the fireplace, he got a blaze going in the hearth, staring into the flames as he gathered his thoughts. “There are things that you don’t know about Katrin. Things that none of you have known—but perhaps you suspected.” Glancing over his shoulder, he allowed his green gaze to meet each thief in turn. “You all have known her longest—are the closest to her among the guild other than Vex, Delvin and myself. She trusted you and she’ll need you all. But what I tell you goes no further.”
The thieves frowned amongst themselves but slowly each nodded. They owed that much to the woman who had turned the Guild around.
“Alright, now what’s the mystery?” asked Etienne, leaning forward in the chair he had claimed.
Brynjolf stared back at the flames for a moment, gathering himself. Secrets—they were what kept his Katrin safe. She’d said that once not long before they’d married—said that if others knew of everything she had done that the ones she loved would be at risk. But some of those secrets needed to be shared, he decided. Turning to face the thieves, his body thrown into sharp shadow against the fire, he drew a deep breath. “Some of what I’m going to tell you is not a surprise. Katrin’s role as Guild Master of the Thieves’ Guild is only one of her titles. She holds the rank of Legate in the Imperial Army. She also is the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood,” he admitted, hearing Cynric’s sharp intake of breath. He pressed on. “She also has ties to the Companions here in Whiterun. I’ll be visiting both the Jarl and the Companions in the morning—I need to speak with them before we continue on to Solitude.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, taking in the confused expressions on his fellow thieves. “And she’s the Dragonborn.”
A moment of stunned silence passed over the assembled thieves.
Brynjolf nodded. “Now, you have asked why I brought you here. We are going to Solitude to get Katrin.”
Re: Any - Avenging the Dragonborn/etc. "Mostly Dead" (3a/?) F!DB/Others
Brynjolf glanced at the thieves behind him and sighed. “We’ll stop here tonight. Come—let’s get the horses bedded down at the stables.” Knees guiding his gelding forward, he loped towards the stables. Soon the stablemaster was near a hundred septims richer for the promise of caring for the horses and Brynjolf led the thieves up the hill. Glancing over his shoulder, he shot a quick glare at the thieves. “On your best behavior, lads. And you too, Sapphire. Keep your blades clean,” he warned.
“Milord,” called one of the guards in surprise, nodding towards Brynjolf. “Welcome back to Whiterun.” He glanced behind Brynjolf, puzzlement filling his face. “Is the Dragonborn not with you?”
Brynjolf shook his head, hearing the intakes of breath behind him. “Not this time. We’re on our way to see her in Solitude.”
The gate guard grinned through his open-faced helmet. “Ah. Well, the Jarl will be glad to hear that his Thane’s husband is in residence. Stay safe, milord.”
Brynjolf could feel the questions burbling within the thieves at his back as he led them the short way from the main gate to Breezeholme. The key felt heavy in his palm as he turned it in the lock, opening the door to Katrin’s first home in Skyrim. Even all these years later they agreed that keeping the house made sense—if nothing else than as a place to bed down on long trips. “Inside, all of you,” he ordered, watching as the thieves filed into the timber-framed house. He threw home the bolt and turned to face the thieves, all of whom were looking at him expectantly. “You have questions.”
“You could say that,” muttered Sapphire, brow arched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s going on, Bryn?”
Brynjolf sighed, wiping his hand down his face. He felt like he’d aged a decade since this afternoon—all he wanted was to climb into bed with his wife and never leave her. “Sit. All of you,” he ordered, motioning to the chairs scattered around the main floor. Moving to the fireplace, he got a blaze going in the hearth, staring into the flames as he gathered his thoughts. “There are things that you don’t know about Katrin. Things that none of you have known—but perhaps you suspected.” Glancing over his shoulder, he allowed his green gaze to meet each thief in turn. “You all have known her longest—are the closest to her among the guild other than Vex, Delvin and myself. She trusted you and she’ll need you all. But what I tell you goes no further.”
The thieves frowned amongst themselves but slowly each nodded. They owed that much to the woman who had turned the Guild around.
“Alright, now what’s the mystery?” asked Etienne, leaning forward in the chair he had claimed.
Brynjolf stared back at the flames for a moment, gathering himself. Secrets—they were what kept his Katrin safe. She’d said that once not long before they’d married—said that if others knew of everything she had done that the ones she loved would be at risk. But some of those secrets needed to be shared, he decided. Turning to face the thieves, his body thrown into sharp shadow against the fire, he drew a deep breath. “Some of what I’m going to tell you is not a surprise. Katrin’s role as Guild Master of the Thieves’ Guild is only one of her titles. She holds the rank of Legate in the Imperial Army. She also is the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood,” he admitted, hearing Cynric’s sharp intake of breath. He pressed on. “She also has ties to the Companions here in Whiterun. I’ll be visiting both the Jarl and the Companions in the morning—I need to speak with them before we continue on to Solitude.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, taking in the confused expressions on his fellow thieves. “And she’s the Dragonborn.”
A moment of stunned silence passed over the assembled thieves.
Brynjolf nodded. “Now, you have asked why I brought you here. We are going to Solitude to get Katrin.”