A Master Thief (A Brynjolf Fanfic)

Two

It goes without saying that I trembled with rage on the way back to our quarters. Madam Callick did little to sooth me, but instead set about to pointing at every little thing out of our carriage window with a surprising new interest. It only enraged me more. Finally, when the carriage stopped, I hopped out without the young coachmen's aid and stormed upstairs, ignoring the madam's shouts for me to stop. I made it to my room and slammed the door, alarming the young servant girl who was busy scrubbing the floors on her knees. 

"M'lady?" she whimpered. "Are you alright? You're horribly flushed, and--"

"What are you doing in here?" I roared. "Get out!" The poor child jumped a mile in the air, trembling with fear. I huffed hard due to the tight ribbon about my waist. But seeing the girl's enlarged blue eyes, sparkling with frightened tears made me pause. I took a deep breath, sighing as best I could. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and nodded to her softly. "What's your name, pet?"

"S-S-Sofia, my lady," she quaked. I felt monstrous. I gave her a small smile and nod. 

"That's a lovely name," I bade her come closer. "I apologize for frightening you, little Sofia. Come--help me undress and brush my hair. And I shall have the cook give you a few sweet rolls later." Though she looked nervous still, the girl approached me and did as she was told. I watched her for a moment--a mere waif, no older than ten, with pale blond hair and a waist so small she looked like a doll. She would occasionally cast a wary eye at me, and I made sure to push my seething anger away long enough to smile genuinely at her. Finally, Sofia relaxed and my preparation for bed was done. I turned in my seat and nodded at her. 

"Go tell the cook, now. And if he gives you trouble, come to me at once," I said. 

"Thank you, mistress!" she cried, bouncing in an awkward curtsy before rushing off, glad to be free of me. I sighed and let my smile fall. I rubbed my face and stood, hearing the sounds of Madam Callick's laughter downstairs. She was drinking and probably had sent away for company so she wouldn't have to be alone with an angry seventeen-year-old tonight. I heard a deep, reverberating laughter and sighed. She had sent for specific male company, it would seem. It was hardly appropriate, but who was I to argue?

For a brief second I felt horrible. I had known for a year now that the true reason I was here with the madam at all was to catch a husband. I sighed and walked to my window. In the dark, coolness of the evening, the cruel merriment of Riften seemed even more enticing. I leaned in my windowpane, hearing a violin accompanied by a bard's voice somewhere in the distance. Probably in the Bee and Barb Inn, singing for coin and drink. I wished I could go and listen to him in person. He had a sad, warbling voice that left my heart heavy. I couldn't say why this situation upset me so much...well, I could in a manner. I had believed that I would be older when I was to meet my betrothed. And also I would have had a say in who it was in the first place! Telir was handsome enough and being half Breton was surely a reason for a mighty Altmer to seek a marriage for his son, if the bride were to have magic in her blood. 

But why me? Why the half-blood daughter of an Imperial lord who really didn't have much status? Why not a full Breton or even another Altmer? I had studied the ways of the Altmer people some years ago, and they held strict, almost impossible marriage standards when it came to their lineage and birthrights. Something about this thing was odd...the way the elfish man had stared at me during dinner, his cool and calm demeanor and the way he had smiled like a cat that has finally caught himself a fat mouse...it made my blood turn to ice. And though I knew it was her job in the beginning, I felt betrayed by Madam Callick. It was true that she was still my better, but I considered her my best and only friend. How long had the preparations for this union been in place? Since I had my first blood and was considered a "grown woman?" Since I turned seventeen and had gained some--not much--but some feminine beauty to my face? I felt lost, foolish, and utterly alone. Even the madam's drunken laughter with her manly plaything downstairs made me upset.

I sat in my windowseat, listening to the bard's singing and silently wishing for him to never stop. I felt tears sting my eyes and told myself that under no circumstances would I cry. I was a lady of means and soon to be of power. That was a huge positive impact of this union should it take place at all...to marry an Altmer descending from the Thalmor would be more power than I could ever hope to achieve. 

But what did I want with power? Absolutely nothing. I felt like a horrid, selfish child. It was then I reached up and touched my throat, surprised I'd forgotten to remove the ribbon. As I reached up to do so, I saw a movement that made me freeze. Below on the Plankside--one wouldn't be able to see clearly had it not been for the moons high in the Skyrim sky. I watched, cautiously; nothing. A part of me wondered if perhaps I'd imagined in. I shrugged and went back to remove my ribbon when a flock of startled pigeons bustled away just beneath my window. I hurried and peered out, looking around anxiously. Something--or someone--was out there frightening them. From the angle I was at, my nightgown slipped dangerously over my shoulder, leaving it bare. Below I heard an intoxicated guardsman whistle in appreciation. I ignored him as my hair hung like a canopy over my neck. I knew Madam Callick would have a heartattack to see me dangling so and in such a state of undress, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. I thought to call, but nothing else happened. I sat back moving to adjust my gown back over my bare shoulder.

"Damn shame," a lighthearted chuckle came just before the windowpane. "I was enjoying the view."

I nearly screamed, but somehow managed to simply gasp sharply. A young man in leather clothing was leaned casually in my window! He wore a hood that hid his features, but not enough to stop me from spotting dazzling green eyes that flashed like emeralds. I held a hand to my heart, my mouth gaping. We merely stared at each other for a moment and then he sighed, as if bored. "You should watch hanging out a window like that, lass," he insisted. "You never know who is watching."

"Is that a threat, sir?" was all I managed to choke out. Why wasn't I screaming for help?

"No, no," he laughed. He had pearly teeth lined with the most beautiful pink lips I'd ever seen. "Just a fact. Now I'll leave you to your nightly activities if you'd be so kind as to give me a jewel or so for my share?"

"Excuse me?"

"My share?" he said it like it should be obvious. "I'm a bit short and I'm afraid Mercer Frey will--"

"You're a thief!" I cried suddenly, causing his smile to fall away in alarm. The Jarl had told us about her reoccurring problem with a certain gang known as the Thieves' Guild. Apparently they resided in the Ratway beneath the streets and only the bravest ever ventured there. They were not an initially violent bunch, she had claimed, but they were troublesome none the less. I had even seen a few wanted posters of men and women alike wearing the thick leathers and strange hoods that hid everything but their noses, lips, and chins. 

"Leave," I insisted, suddenly frightened. Though he seemed harmless, who knew what he would resort to. "Before I call the guard."

"Fine, fine," he sighed and turned almost sadly. Suddenly though, he glanced back with a vicious smirk. "Perhaps I could have something else then? Something along the lines of a kiss?"

I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but I didn't dare chance it. I screamed for help and the rogue left, laughing the whole way as he melted into the shadows beyond.

~

Hmmm, God can ya'll imagine a 20-year-old Brynjolf? :3 yeah, you're welcome fangirls.

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