The Thief of Hearts (A Brynjolf Fanfic)

4

I had been taught at a very young age not to follow strange men into desolate areas alone. It wasn't that every man wanted to harm pretty, naive girls of course, but there were many less honorable ones that we had heard stories about, too. So for safety's sake, my mother had insisted on me maintaining my head whenever approached by a charming stranger. If my gut instinct told me to leave, I would leave immediately without a second thought.

And yet here I was, eighteen and stupid as ever, following a thief who I'd met standing over a dead body, rushing to the Riften cemetery while guards chased after us for murder. I didn't know this Brynjolf--he could have lied about not killing the guardsman. He could have lied about the red handprint and have made that himself. So why was I so willing to follow him? I'd never been a silly girl so fond of a handsome face that I'd lose all common sense. Was it simply shock at seeing a dead man? Or was it the fear of getting caught and ill-accused of committing a crime I didn't do?

The questions slashed through my stunned brain like an arrow hitting its target. Brynjolf was fast but slowed to ensure I was behind him. Like fate itself was eyeing us, a grim fog settled over the ground of the cemetery, casting us in even darker shadows. Riften, so usually loud and alive, seemed uncharacteristically quiet. But perhaps my rapid heartbeat was what caused me to hear nothing else.

"This way, lass," the thief instructed, leading me to a staircase beneath a tomb. I watched in silent fear as he stood aside to reveal a tunnel lit by low torches.

"I'm not going down there," I insisted with a trembling voice.

"What?" Brynjolf looked at me, perplexed. "Lass, we've no time for this!"

"No!" I cried. "Wh-What is the meaning of this? Leading me to a graveyard after I see you standing over a dead man. For all I know you're lying."

"Listen--"

"I'm supposed to be back at Maven's meadery!" my voice cracks. The realization of the situation was beginning to take its toll on my mentality, and fear began to set in fast.

"Lass, please," Brynjolf said, beckoning me with the first real look of worry on his face. Behind us, I could hear guardsmen approaching fast, their footsteps angry and quick. "I swear you'll not be harmed with me. But if we stay here a moment longer, we'll be dead. They'll shoot us where we stand and not think twice. On my honor as a thief, I'll protect you and explain everything." And with that, he extended a gloved hand or me.

I took a split second. Thieves had no honor, at least that's what I had been taught. But then why would he stand here, waiting on me to decide, rather than let me take the fall for the guard's murder? Nothing made sense and I was nearly dizzy with fear. So I did the only thing I could do: I took the handsome thief's hand, letting him tug me into the shadows. I let out a startled scream and like magic the lights were extinguished and the stone was replaced overhead.

We were underground and no one could possibly find us.

~

The darkness lasted but a moment. Brynjolf, sensing my growing anxiety, quickly lit a torch and handed it to me. I took it with shaky hands. Even cast in the shadows, he was stunningly good-looking. He gave me a stern, almost sad smile.

"There," he murmured in that accent. "Safe and sound. Follow me. I'll take you to a sanctuary."

"I'm not moving another step until you tell me what's going on," I demanded, my voice shockingly strong. He even looked surprised.

"I told you up there what had happened," he insisted.

"No, something is going on," I demanded. My fear was mixing with my rage. But whatever for was I mad about? I had no right to be angry at anything, except perhaps the unfortunate situation. "The murdered guard, the Dark Brotherhood hounding the streets, the woman in the Bee and Barb Inn eyeballing everyone--"

"Sapphire," Brynjolf said with that surprisingly calm tone again.

"Excuse me?"

"You met Sapphire. Lovely lass; a bit rude, though."

"Don't try to placate me!" I cried. "I was nearly caught and hanged for a crime I didn't commit. And if I don't get back to the meadery before dawn, they'll really think it was me."

"No they won't," Brynjolf insisted. "You've my word on that, lass." He suddenly cocked his head. "Tell me your name. You said you're a servant for Black-Briar."

"O-Oh," I stammered. "S-Spina. That's what I was called when I moved here, anyway."

"Spina, huh?" he chuckled. "Guessing you're a bit of a pain in the arse, then?"

I bristled. This wasn't the time for jokes and flirtations...if he actually was flirting that was. He sighed and looked behind him. "Look, you go out tonight you'll be caught for sure. Follow me and you'll be safe until dawn. Then we can get you back to Maven's if that's what you truly want."

I studied him. He didn't come across as a madman or someone who dishonored women in the shadows. But he was a thief and whether he committed the crime or not, was involved with what had happened in the alleyway. Still, my instinct told me he wasn't going to harm me. I just wish my heart and internal alarm did the same. However, neither of us wanted to stand in the drafty tunnel beneath the graveyard all night long.

I sighed and nodded. Brynjolf smiled gently. "Excellent. Follow me." And without another word, he set off in the dark. I followed slowly, taken aback by how the large man moved almost noiselessly and effortlessly through the thick shadows, whereas I tripped over my own feet more than once.

We walked for what seemed to be miles. Finally, Brynjolf stopped before a wooden door, seemingly out of place in the deep tunnel. I studied him as he turned and eyed me mischievously. "Saph told me you stole from Keerava yesterday. Is that true?"

I blushed hotly. I knew the blue-eyed woman was watching me. "Yes. Keerava has too much on her plate to worry about a mere girl stealing a sweet roll, though," I admitted.

"I'm not mad," Brynjolf said with humor. "I'm not Keerava's biggest fan, but the fact you were willing to take so effortlessly is why you're here and not hidden in some room of hers in the Bee and Barb Inn."

"What?" I asked, thoroughly confused. At that, Brynjolf opened the door, where I was struck in the face with loud fiddling music and laughter.

"Lass," he said. "Welcome to the home of the Thieves' Guild--the Ragged Flagon."

I poked my head through, but what greeted me wasn't warmth and affection. Instead it was the piercing eyes of men and women wearing leather armor, staring at me like I had gutted one of their own. Even the music stopped abruptly when I followed the Nord through. It was then that I realized I was far from safe...in fact, I'd be surprised to make it through the night.

~

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