The Thief of Hearts (A Brynjolf Fanfic)

11

Months passed. I turned nineteen without celebration or family by my side. In this time I grew strong, regaining my muscle I had lost during my illness and injury recuperation.I trained tirelessly and became more agile and focused on enhancing my skills as a thief. I continued to steal and rob as I had been trained to do, without so much as a single flaw made. I was moved up the ranks as an official member of the guild, and a small festivity would be thrown in my honor. Though flattered, I didn't feel like drinking until my guts rose up my throat in sickness. I had overcome the trauma of being unsuccessfully poisoned, but I hardly felt like myself.

Nonetheless, the other guild members insisted on any occasion to drink copiously.

The night I earned my rank as a thief, Vipir brought to me a lovely white gown and a crown of tiny white flowers to wear. I studied him with an arched brow. "You know, it's been a moment since I wore a dress," I told him.

"Vex wore one," he shrugged. "As did Tonilia, Sapphire, and other ladies in our ranks. It's more for show than anything."

"I'm quite sure," I chuckled. "Thank you, Vipir. It's pretty."

"I'll let you get changed," he said, turning and leaving to give me privacy. I changed and allowed the slippery material to fall over my shoulders. I hardly recognized myself in the mirror--a part of me liked it. Another part of me still couldn't stand the sight of myself. Even after all this time, the memory of my near-death experience and Brynjolf's harsh words haunted me. I had rarely seen him in the several months that had passed. He was out about on jobs more than naught. Riften had been oddly quiet since Maven became the Jarl, and we thieves had seen little of the Dark Brotherhood. Still, my heart stung like it had been slashed with a knife. Brynjolf had cast his spell over me, and there was little I could do to break it. So I sighed, reached down for my flower crown, and set it atop my hair.

"I need a drink," I announced to my reflection.

~

The Ragged Flagon was alive with laughter, drunkenness, and merriment. Everyone danced, sang, and clapped along with Thrynn's lively music he played on his fiddle. I actually smiled and laughed, allowing Niruin and Vipir to twirl me about in a frenzied twirl of a dance. Vekel's mead--not of Maven's brew--was hitting my stomach, causing me to feel joyous and happier than I knew I truly was. But in that moment, I cared little. As the song came to an end, we erupted in applause. Delvin banged a heavy fist on the table to get our attention. When he stood, I could clearly see that he was red in the face from drinking.

"Hear ye," he cried, hiccuping. "We gather tonight to celebrate our new little sister--Spina is an official thief, having completed her training at last!" Everyone whooped and cheered. I smiled and clumsily curtsied. "Now," he continued, speaking to the wall as opposed to us, "let's get on with the celebrations!"

"We're trying to, you meathead!" a Dunmar cried, red eyes glinting happily in the light.

"Shaddyap," Delvin yelled back, falling onto his rear. We erupted into laughter, but just as Thrynn went to play his fiddle once more, the room fell quiet with whispers. I looked around, dizzy from my drink, but blinked.

"What's wrong?" I asked, then looked over my shoulder. It took a second for my vision to focus, but once it did, I wished it hadn't. Standing at the top of the stairs was none other than Brynjolf. Behind him, Sapphire, still garbed in her armor, stood leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. But I paid little attention to her, my eyes glued on the redheaded Nord's form. He wore a vest over his shirt, black boots, and a sword strapped to his side. He had bathed, trimmed his beard, and his hair was tied back with a black ribbon. I'd never seen him garbed so...dashingly. In fact, Brynjolf looked like a prince from a fairy tale.

"Is that Brynjolf?" Niruin whispered, squinting his eyes.

"Aye," a girl said breathlessly. "Gods, he looks so handsome."

As though hearing her words, Brynjolf walked towards us. The crowd split and it was to my horror that I realized he was approaching me, green eyes shimmering in the darkness. I swallowed, my pulse rattling. As I mentioned, I'd only seen Brynjolf in passing for the past few months. Our last interaction had been so incredibly unpleasant that I figured he had been attempting to avoid me. Because if so, he'd done a marvelous job of it. I had busied myself with learning the art of thievery, and had done everything I could to distract my mind from what had happened between us. For the most part, I did alright. Though right now, as waves of emotions and feelings crashed over me, I realized I hadn't done as amazing of a job as I'd hoped.

Brynjolf stood in front of me. He stared at me, unmoving, then bowed at the waist. He offered me a hand. Everyone gazed at me, slack-jawed. I accepted his fingers, my own shaking. He pulled me close and wrapped an arm around my waist as Thrynn's hesitant fiddle began to play. The other thieves formed a circle and gave us room so we could waltz about slowly. Brynjolf, though considerably taller than me, kept in perfect time with my shorter gait. I grasped the sleeve of his shirt, unable to reach his shoulders. He twirled me out, the white fabric of my dress splaying in a graceful arc about my legs before he brought me back.

Suddenly, the room turned into a grand room in a palace. The thieves were gone and we danced alone. The fiddle was warbling and sad, soon joined by a tin whistle. The song was oddly tragic and forbidding. But we danced none the less. Strands of his red hair fell before his eyes, consistently fixed upon mine. I felt my lips parting in confusion. He hadn't said a word to me for months, except for the occasional order here and there. Now this? What game was he playing at?

"Brynjolf," I whispered.

"You're beautiful," was all he said back. Suddenly I felt him spin me by my torso, facing him. He held my hands overhead with a single one of his large ones. He pressed close, his nose in my hair, as his other hand slid down my face, neck, breasts, to clutch my waist tightly. My pulse hammered like a blacksmith at silver. I looked up, feeling my flesh grow flustered. He didn't break, nor give into my trembles. He dipped me low to where my hair brushed the ground. I felt his lips brush my collarbones. My eyes viewed the world upside down, but as I was righted immediately, I realized he had scooped me up in his arms. I laid a hand on his chest as he gently spun.

"What are you doing?" I squeaked. "I-I thought you said if we crossed the line we--"

"Apologizing," he admitted. Slowly the courtroom died and reality began to sink in as the alcohol wore off. "Lass...I'm sorry I didn't protect you."

"Brynjolf," I said as he continued to hold me. "I don't blame you. I blame myself for being a fool. And that was months ago."

"Doesn't matter," he muttered into my ear. "I swore an oath when I first met you, on my honor, to keep you safe."

"And I put myself into danger willingly," I argued.

"Stop fighting me," he begged softly. I stared; Brynjolf never asked for anything. That's how I knew this was serious. "Just stop."

I swallowed and nodded. He finally sat me down. The song died and everyone was cast into an eerie silence, eyes on us. He bowed and I curtsied. He gave me a small smile; I smiled back. I supposed we were back to being friends at the least. But why ever would he have proceeded to dance with me in such a scandalous way?

I just wished it would have lasted.

"Lovely," a woman's voice said. We whirled. Maven Black-Briar stood at the top of the stairs, guardsmen and the Dark Brotherhood behind her. "Positively lovely. Now kill them all."

~

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