Split Loyalties [A Skyrim Fanfic]

~Chapter Two~

The sun hangs low, sinking behind the city of Riften. I had endured a full day and night of riding, as the adrenaline from fleeing Markarth had kept me going.

Reaching Riften's Stables, I quickly dismount "my" horse and lead her into the gated-area. I leave the steed there, along with an anonymous note directing the stableboy to care for the horse and eventually have her brought back to Markarth. Before leaving for the city gates, I notice Thukir's horse standing near a pile of fresh hay. Good. If his horse is here, here's here too. I need to talk to him about Maven and her schemes.

The gates slam shut behind me, and I'm hit with the noise of afternoon bristly. Beggars roam the streets, miserably asking for spare coin; adults run to and fro, hurriedly gathering much needed goods; guards stand positioned at various points, suspiciously eyeing any odd activity.

It's nice to be back, I think. In other Holds, I have to worry about being noticed in my Guild armor, but here it's a sign of authority. Most of the guards are under our control anyway, but the ones who aren't are too scared to say anything, meaning we can opening walk through the streets.

I take the path immediately to the left, trying to look as casual as possible strolling into Riften's graveyard. The guards may respect and/or fear us, but that doesn't mean if they know where our headquarters are, they won't take the opportunity to eliminate us.

Inhaling deeply, the sharp smell of purple deathbell flowers overwhelm me. They seem to grow in huge quantities in every graveyard I've insisted, but whether they're planted or they're wild, I don't know.

No priestess resides here today, leaving me to myself. Looking around, I scan the area again to make sure no one else lurks in the shadows, trying to remain hidden from my view.

Once certain I'm alone, I speak into the concrete room and press a hidden button. The sound of cement grinding against cement splits through the once silent area. Hurrying down the stairs, I'm greeted with a dank, musty smell. The entrance closes after I pull the chain, and darkness surrounds me. I locate the sewer grate out of memory alone and push it aside, climbing down the creaky wooden ladder.

My eyes, still unused to the dimly lit Cistern, slowly begin to adjust. Members of the Guild can be seen throughout performing various tasks, but I waste no time watching them. I have to find Thukir.

He normally stays at Mercer's old desk, and that is indeed where I find him today. His head seems to hardly reach the top of the numerous stacks of books, charts, and maps places erratically around the table. Walking over, I try to catch his eye, but the man is too deeply concentrated on his work that he doesn't notice me. "Thukir..."

Although I spoke softly, his head jerks up in surprise. Only then do I notice the rings around his bloodshot eyes, as is he hadn't slept in a while, and his voice sounds irritable and impatient. "What is it-" When he realizes it's me, Thukir's voice softens. Although he hasn't been a high-ranking Guild member for long, the man has little tolerance for them. "Ahh, Delvin. I see you're back from the job I gave you?"

"I completed the task," I say with a nod of my head, "but I have other news. Maven Bla-"

"I don't want to hear about Maven Black-Briar," he spits out her name, trying to get the putrid taste out of his mouth. "Tell me about the job. Did you get the necklace?"

After searching through several pockets unsuccessfully, I finally find the jeweled amulet. "Here," Thukir greedily snatches it from my hands.

"The Guild is growing richer every moment. Soon we'll have control over not just Riften and Morthal, but every other Hold too." Laugh lines crease around his eyes and lips, giving the man a joyful appearance as if he's smiling.

That man hasn't smiled at me since I first met him. Maybe he really is in it for the Guild. He seems to be like a good man fit to lead this Guild- certainly better than Mercer, I assume. Then again, even a rabid skeever would've been better than Mercer. But only if he'd listen to what I have to say about Maven.

I begin another attempt of explaining what happened, but Thukir waves me off. Once more, he's consumed in his work, an endless cycle of coming up with different plots to strengthen the Guild.

Frustrated, I aimlessly wander the Cistern, trying to think of a new way to tell the Guild. Obviously I can't just announce it. If even one member becomes careless and their tongue slips, word might get out that we know, and Maven could change her approach on her revenge.

Out of no where, a sharp pain shoots through my skull, sending me spinning to the ground.

"By Nocturnal!" A familiar voice echoes through my head, but it takes me a few tries to pin who exactly it is- Brynjolf. His hand reaches for mine, pulling me up from where I had fallen. "Delvin, are you okay?"

I nod, and soon realize it was a mistake- my head is still pounding from the collision, and nodding certainly didn't help. "I've had worse," trying covering up the fact that although I have had worse, it still hurt.

Brynjolf chuckles, eyeing me doubtfully. "You're sure?"

"Positive," I say, reassuring the man. "But before you carry on with your business, we need to talk."

He shakes his head, blissfully unaware of the news I bear. "Sorry Delve," He uses his old nickname for me, letting me know he's truly sorry. "I'd love to stay, but I've got important things to do. Thukir had me running around like I'm on a skooma-high. Can we speak another time?"

Before I have a chance to protest, the Nord hurries off, leaving me standing in the middle of the Cistern with a hand to my aching head.

To my dismay, I had been ignored yet again. Sighing, I make my way to the Ragged Flagon, reuniting myself with my old perch.

My chair scrapes against the old wooden floor, disturbing the once quiet chatter of the Guild members. Closing my eyes, I put my head in my hands and gently rub the knot already forming on my scalp.

Tonilia interrupts my brief moment of peace, claiming the seat across from me and dropping two sloshing tankards on the table. When I don't move to take my drink, she pushes it forward, speaking, "Delvin, what's wrong?"

Her tone is gently- strangely out-of-character for Tonilia. "Hah, do I seem that out of it?"

"You look like a wreck- your eyes have more bags than Thukir's, your armor smells terribly of horses, and your hands are blistered and red, as if you rode nonstop from across Skyrim. So tell me. What happened on the job in Markath?"

I laugh once more and take a long sip of mead before beginning my tale.

~~~

Tonilia stares at me in bewilderment, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. She seems to struggle for a moment, unable to find the right words. "Would Maven really go that far?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm just as shocked as you are. In all my years, I never would've imagined Maven Black-Briar setting the Dark Brotherhood against us. A laugh comes from my mouth, completely empty of humor. "Then again, I never would've imagined the Guildmaster turning away from her, either."

Silence overtakes our table, both of us lost in our own thoughts about what I had heard and how we should deal with it. We sit for several moments before I speak once more. "So, what should we do?" I ask, at a complete loss of what action should be taken.

"I say we keep this between us for now. It'd be best to tell Thukir, Brynjolf, and Vex as soon as possible, but with Vex on a job and the other two in their own worlds, I'm not sure how soon that'll be. I'm certain the lower-ranking members shouldn't be aware of this just yet. We don't want to alarm them, especially if this entire thing isn't real. There is still a possibility it's only a rumor, and dear gods, I hope it is.

Showing my absolute agreement, I dip my head. Around us, the Guild member carry on their daily tasks of cleaning and training, completely oblivious to the dangers lurking in the near future.

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I hope every one of you has a lovely day! Thank you so much for reading!