Skyrim One-Shots

Mercer Frey x Reader (Female) ~Some Nights~

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a pair that had always set a fire in her, the eyes of a man long gone.

He had changed. From when they were both young- he was funny and charming, charismatic and flirty. When she'd finally gathered her wits to return back to the Thieves Guild, he was different.

He was cruel, heartless. He barely seemed to recognize her even when he'd promised he'd never forget her face. 

How the years have flown, and how times have changed.

And still, she wondered.

She hoped.

She wished.

The celebration around her was at full-blast, roaring and howling filling the air as the revelry only just began.

After all, the guild was finally back on its feet again, fighting and winning. They were prospering. Sure, it was mostly because of her efforts as Guildmaster, but...

She'd fix Mercer's mistakes. She'd promised him, right before she drove her blade beside his heart, right before she left him to fight his own truths. She would repair the guild, make sure his name wasn't any more of a spit that it was, and try to move past his failures.

She had learned from him, and teasingly, she would credit him often for messing up so badly. It made Brynjolf laugh, it eased the wound.

It helped.

She would always do it for him. Without hesitation- she would fix his mistakes.

And with a sigh as her lids started to droop, the thief stood, leaving her empty bottle of ale behind as she walked to the Cistern.

No one stopped her.

Well, no one noticed, more so. She always had a way of blending into the shadows, different from hiding in them. She became the shadows. She was the shadows.

A quiet moan left her mouth as she entered the silent, empty room littered with beds and a single desk. Damn, she was tired.

She stretched out her back, her tunic pulling up to expose a small part of her toned abdomen before rolling out her neck and letting her arms hang by her sides.

A quiet, barely audible snap echoed.

Instantly, her eyes had narrowed, knowing the noise was most certainly not the rats that had recently been plaguing the guild.

She drew a knife from her boot, quickly walking around the room, scanning every single spot someone could hide.

Abruptly, her head whipped to the graveyard entrance, and she let out a loud, echoing shriek.

"Gods above," the man snorted, "you're rather jumpy, Guildmaster."

"Sorry, Niruin," she forced a chuckle.

By Nocturnal, she was losing it.

"I was just heading to the Flagon. Go do your paperwork and masturbate, or whatever the hell you do."

He began to walk towards the entrance to the underground bar, and she nodded.

"Do enjoy yourself."

The Bosmer was gone by the time she finished her sentence.

She took a deep breath in.

And out.

She began to walk to her desk, rubbing her eyes and yawning

"Right, only me now," she breathed, sitting in her chair.

"Hmm, I wouldn't say that," came a taunting voice, directly behind her.

That was not Niruin.

She didn't dare turn around.

What if...

"Oh come on," was the huff, "I'm not here to take that damn seat again. I hated it before, I'll hate it again. I also equally hated treating you like scum. Don't forgive me for that."

She whipped around.

"Mercer?"

He grinned widely, "The one, the only."

It was... It was him! Mercer!

She stood, rushing forward to embrace him readily, and yet she merely phased right through him.

Her heart plummeted in her chest.

She looked around.

No, no, no, not again.

Tears welled in her eyes.

And she slammed herself against the wall, sinking down to the floor with drips of salty liquid racing down her cheeks as she began to sob, head starting to curl between her legs and her hands wrapped around her calves.

"Damn him!" she yelled, rasping from her tears as she clenched her fists, "Damn him for haunting me!"

There was nothing but the sounds of her weepings in the room, echoing pathetically as she curled herself into a ball. 

Mercer had taken her heart from the start, and he hadn't cared to give it back.

Who was she kidding, she drove that sword straight into his heart.

She wiped her tears furiously, standing.

Mercer Frey was dead. Mercer Frey was gone.

And it was his own damn fault.

She'd tried to help him, tried to convince him to stop, offer to try to explain things, but he never listened.

It was his fault. He got himself killed.

Sure, she could still love the old him, the young man he'd once been, but not Guildmaster Frey.

Never Guildmaster Frey.

With eyes a raging fire, she melted herself together once more, the sword of Mercer's betrayal the new encasing around her.

She was the new Guildmaster.

And she was done playing Mercer Frey's game, even after he was dead.

She was done.

It was her turn to be in the spotlight.

She took a deep breath.

"Tonight," she murmured to herself, "what do I want to do?"

Her musing words echoed in the room, a small smile on her lips.

"Dinner first, and then, maybe I find a friend," she hummed.

She wondered if Brynjolf was busy.

Her bed was always so cold, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And here is the tale of a strong ass woman bringing shit to the table.

She has dealt with her emotions- chosen what she shall follow, and climbs to glory!

I need a battle cry for the end of this chapter, dammit!

Lol, I'll calm down.

Requests?

Part 2?

Name of your dog?

Or cat?

Dani out, 

Adieu!