The Thief of Hearts (A Brynjolf Fanfic)

6

It turns out that Brynjolf was right: I was a natural thief at heart.

My training lasted perhaps two months before the thieves began to see immense progress. Even I wasn't blind to the way my body and mind became accustomed to the change. I moved more silently, learned to use the shadows to my advantage, and my basic theft skills such as lockpicking and pickpocketing were being put to use on my peers for pranks. It was so strange that not long before I had been curious of a simple legend, and now here I was...a little sister to them and learning more day by day. The servant girl from the meadery was gone and in her stead grew a confident, sly-minded thief.

At first I was at war with my conscience about the stealing and lying. But it soon died away when the thrill sank in and I realized I had found my niche as a proper thief. Perhaps it wasn't honorable in a lot of people's minds. But the coin I was about to bring it would be more than enough for Mama to retire peacefully.

That was truly all that mattered.

I stood at one of the member's mirrors, taking in my appearance. My hair was now cut above my shoulders to avoid any obstacles and my body had grown harder and leaner from training. Gone was the soft, supple eighteen year old girl. Here stood a strong woman, corded with muscle and ability. I'll admit I'd grown vain--I liked the way I looked now. But so did the more lighthearted members of the Thieves Guild.

"Who are you getting all lovely for?" a teasing voice asked. I turned to see Niruin behind me, leaned in the doorway. The Bosmer wore his hood despite being indoors, but I could see his smirk from where I stood.

"I can barely recognize myself. But I do like the change," I said.

"I do too," he chuckled. I blushed. "Not a crime, is it?"

"Watch yourself, Niruin," I said a tad playfully. "What are you doing here anyway? No other waifs you can torment?"

"Torment?!" he cried falsely. "I'm hurt, little thorn. No I've come to fetch you. Brynjolf needs to see you in his quarters."

I nodded and walked down the narrow corridor. I'm not sure what possessed me to not have decorum--perhaps I'd become too comfortable with my surroundings and my companions. But for some reason, I didn't knock on Brynjolf's door.

"You wanted to see me, Bryn--" the words caught in my throat. He stood behind his desk, eyeballing his documents and maps with that stern look on his face. But he was naked from the waist up. I was so used to seeing Brynjolf in his leather armor or casual clothing, it had completely eluded me that beneath his clothes he had skin like mine.

No, not like mine. He was beautiful, with apparent ridges in his stomach, red hair that covered that broad, Nord chest. His arms were pure muscle, flexing and wired with protruding veins in his forearms. I'd seen men without shirts before, of course, but this was so different.

"Lass?" he said, standing. I swallowed. My pulse rattled my rib cage and a fire coiled in my lower stomach. I immediately wondered what it was like to touch his strong arms or trace the lines in his abdomen....

"Oy, Spina."

I yelped, blushing fiercely. "S-Sorry!" I cried in embarrassment.

"You were gone for a solid second," he announced, grasping a linen shirt. He tugged it over his auburn head, but it remained open against his chest.

"I-I'm sorry, Brynjolf," I murmured. Gods he was gorgeous in the intimate lighting of his room, shadows casting across his form and face. "Ahem, Niruin said you needed me?"

"Aye," he nodded, reaching under his desk. He pulled forth a pile of leathers and extended them to me with a smile. "For you. You've earned them."

I gasped, taking the clothing carefully. They smelled new and shone glossy in the light. My heart beat almost as excitedly as it had when I saw him moments ago. I looked at him eagerly. "Really, you think I'm ready?" I asked softly.