A Master Thief (A Brynjolf Fanfic)

Fourteen

The Ragged Flagon, Riften 

"Have you found her yet?" came Karliah's worried voice. 

"Nothing," the skinny Imperial boy sighed. "Sorry, mistress. We looked everywhere."

"We didn't find anything, either," said the tall Bosmer. "It's like the girl vanished."

"Maya," Mercer called. "Did you see her before she disappeared?"

"'Fraid not, sir," Maya shook her strong head. "I was taking a brief nap, I was. I'm sure the little lass hasn't gone far, though."

"Shit," Mercer growled, rubbing his neck in worry. It was true, he'd found Ria a tad aggravating and ultimately snobbish, but the girl had a heart of gold and while he would never admit it, she made Brynjolf happier than anyone he'd ever seen. And that alone was good enough for Mercer.

"This is all my fault," Brynjolf muttered. His face was dark and twisted in alarm. "I should have stayed awake. I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"She should have had the common sense not to wander off to the Plankside when she's a wanted woman," Karliah huffed. She sighed deeply. "Sorry, Bryn. Don't worry. I'm sure she is fine."

"Did her mistress return?" Mercer called to the Imperial boy. "Perhaps she went home to speak with her before she fled."

"Saw no sign of an Imperial ladyship, sir."

"No," Brynjolf said, eyes sharp. "She was taken. I'm sure of it. I wouldn't put it past that Telir to have Altmer out roaming the streets looking for her." He sheathed a sword and tugged his hood on almost angrily. "I'm gonna find her. And if he's harmed even a single hair on her head--"

"Brynjolf, calm down," Mercer said sternly. "Going alone would be a suicide, kid."

"So be it!" the younger thief snapped. Everyone stared, startled. Brynjolf's chest heaved and he glowered. "I'm not going to let him kill her. I swear on my life."

Karliah sighed and shouldered her bow. "Mercer?"

"Fine," the guildmaster rolled his eyes, grabbing a sword. "If we die, I'm haunting your ass, Brynjolf."

~

I woke battered. There wasn't a part on my body not covered in a welt or bruise. I was in so much pain I could barely lift my head. My shackles had been locked tightly about my thin wrists and ankles. The gown Karliah had given me had been shredded to the point where it concealed little. Still, I was stunned to find that I had not been assaulted or dishonored in anyway. Perhaps Lord Telir was far too livid with me to find me sexually appeasing anymore. The room I'd been locked in was cold, dark, and echoed with ease wheezing breath I took. Above me were hanging chains with dried blood on them,  a single noose, and other dangling apparatuses just waiting to be used. 

I was such an idiot. What had possessed me to go out into the streets while the serial killer was on the loose? 

I coughed up a wad of blood and spat to the side. I thought to pray to the gods for a swift death, but instead prayed that Brynjolf and the others would have the common decency to stay far away from the Altmer manor. I secretly hoped they would find my letters and mail them off swiftly. I hoped Madam Callick was safe in Solitude, far away from this madness. 

I prayed for many things, sitting there in the darkness.

I heard the creaking of a door opening and looked over. I was too injured to move and, quite frankly, had no desire to. In walked a masked Altmer garbed in executioner's clothing. Behind him was none other than my intended, Lord Telir. He wore a simple shirt and breeches, looking more casual than I'd ever seen him. His golden eyes glimmered in the shadows and his hair was tied back into a thick tail. He looked beautiful; he looked like a madman. He spoke to the other Altmer in their native tongue and the man left with a bow, leaving me alone with my fiance.