Sorry, Lass (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Sorry, Lass

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This fic has been posted before, although I was never satisfied with it. I felt like it could do better with some refinement. So here it is, renovated—complete with a shiny, new cover. I hope you enjoy~

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Karliah promised that he would visit, but he hasn't.

Perhaps he doesn't care for caves and cowards. I ask much to have him come just to look at this face—at this person who left the only role he needed me for. I would not dare show my face in the guild. I could not trust that I explained my feelings well enough; I do not know if they understand. I would not impose upon them when they might sooner forget me. I would ask him, if he pleased, to come to me.

"I was the same way," Karliah said. It was the first of her thoughts to surface in two days. "I couldn't stand it when Gallus ignored me. In the end, I understood he never did. Do you understand me, nightingale?"

"What?" I shook my head dismissively, glancing up from a book that I'd been scanning through—my attempt to keep busy while I waited. "My relationship with Brynjolf doesn't compare to yours."

"Is that what you think?" She tilted her head to the side. The Dunmer excelled at hiding; her thoughts were often shy things that hid beneath the violet hues of her eyes, indistinguishable from a glance at a certain moment. The constant murkiness of her manner had always left me wondering exactly how much the elf noticed but didn't reveal. This small torch she offered in the darkness of her mind allowed only a glimpse at its deeper workings—it was a seductive thing, though I knew she only offered conversation to get me to talk.

I cocked my head to the side, mirroring her.  "How is it the same?"

Karliah looked away and smiled. "That is an answer for you to design."

I threw my book aside and stared at her, while she began to slowly scrawl letters into her journal. She was ignoring me intentionally, keeping me away from whatever insights she had locked away within her eyes.

I felt the conversation, though quiet, was far from over, but I wasn't keen to clear away the fog which shrouded my thoughts. I didn't want to know what answer lay inside, veiled by its depths; it felt dangerous to uncover it.

"Nightingale?" Karliah looked up and sighed, seeing my face. "Look at it this way: if it was regret on your mind, you'd return to the Guild and make amends for your leaving. There is embarrassment there, I can see it. I just don't know why it exists."

"You don't know, you assume." I stood up from the bed. It was frustrating to hear the harshening tone of my own voice, so I cleared my throat and moved over to the bookcase, where I replaced my book on the shelf.

"I do assume," she said. "You won't tell me anything."

Crouching down, I stared blindly at the titles of the tomes and whispered, "I think I would know if I felt the way you say."

"Or perhaps you're hiding."

"I wouldn't have left the guild if I wasn't certain it was the only way I could find happiness. There is nothing I should feel ashamed for, nothing to regret. Yes—I feel I've left and let down the only people I can call friends, but if I cannot choose my happiness over my misery, then I cannot consider them as such. I tried to be the person Brynjolf needed, but I'm not. I tried to be the kind of person who is satisfied—not by the work I do but—by the people I'm around, but I'm not. I wish—with my whole heart, I wish—that this could have ended in a better way. And, if there is anything I regret, it is leaving Brynjolf to lead before he was ready to do so. How does that compare to you and Gallus?"