#Keerava

[mukuuji]

[elderscrollsconfessions]

Confession: After Completing the Thieves Guild Initiation in Skyrim, I'll buy out Keerava's entire stock every time I go to Riften because I feel bad for having to essentially rob the Argonians for a quest.

[ulenehlervu]

doodled some ladies from riften to end the year

more here

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

I always found it odd that Brynjolf has the player collect the debt from Keerava when Sapphire literally spends most of her time in The Bee & Barb

Literally she rarely goes outside The Bee & Barb why not just have her do it? She's there all the time

Did Brynjolf try to get her to do it but she kept refusing? I just don't get it why have a rookie guild member collect the debt when a trusted guild member is constantly in the establishment owned by the debtee?

[spocklingtons]

When looking for work gets tough, Talen gives Marcurio a job waiting on tables.

One of many head canons me and my sister come up with for Skyrim npcs. Also he’s in debt to Keerava, no work means no rent :(

[libartz]

[friend-of-giants]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by the lovely @boethiahspillowbook and @wildhexe! Thank you both friends! Tagging @elfinismsarts @thelavenderelf @katastronoot and anyone seeing this, consider yourself tagged.

I can't recall if I've shared this before but have a snip of an upcoming chapter, featuring the staff of the Bee and Barb and one troubled Teldryn.

With a sigh, he found his way to the door of the Bee and Barb and stepped inside.  The place was empty save for the Argonian couple who owned it and a young Imperial man in golden mage robes seated at the bar.  The mage, he noted, seemed to be here every time they had visited, regardless of the time of day.  Perhaps he lived at the tavern.  

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here this early before,” Keerava said as Teldryn found a stool at the bar.  The young mage hardly spared him a glance.  “Can I get you anything?  Breakfast?  Milk?”

“Cliff Racer, if you will.”

Keerava’s eyes widened a little.  “A bit strong for this time of day, don’t you think?”

Teldryn set a few Septims on the bartop whilst holding back a groan of irritation.  “Just give me the damn drink, please.”

“Alright, alright.  Talen, one Cliff Racer, make it quick!”

“A Cliff Racer?  It isn’t even midday!”  Talen-Jei spoke up from the other side of the bar, not bothering to turn around to look.

“Just make the damn drink.  Got a paying customer here!”

Talen-Jei heaved a sigh and began to grab the ingredients to make the cocktail.  After gathering the bottles under his arm and a clean flagon in his free hand, he turned around to prepare the drink, his gaze settling upon Teldryn.  He gave a smile and sat the bottles on the bar and began to pull the corks out.  “Never too early for a strong drink, am I right?”  

“It isn’t my first choice for breakfast, just need something to calm my nerves.”  

“I understand,” Talen said, then raised a curious brow.  “Here alone today, hmm?  Don’t you usually come here with Wren?”

Teldryn gave a shallow nod.  “Usually.”

Talen’s smile turned to a faint wince.  “I’m guessing she’s the reason you’re here, then.”

“Talen, don’t be nosy!”  Keerava scolded him from the other end of the bar.  

“It’s part of the job to talk to my customers, dear.”  Talen finished pouring the drink, then handed it over with a wary grin.  “So, what’s on your mind?  You’re among good company, friend, let it out.”

Teldryn grabbed it eagerly and took a long and deep drink.  Like liquid flame, it burned.  After a second sip, he set the flagon down and clasped his fingers together tightly.  

“Her.”  

“Thought so.  I see you two here a lot, did something happen?”

“Think she ran off,” Teldryn muttered.  “Haven’t seen her in three days.”

Talen frowned.  “I’m sorry, you two seem quite close.  Were you… together?”  He waved a clawed hand in front of him, as if to emphasize his intentions.  

“I’m her mercenary and her friend,” Teldryn said.  A sickening feeling rose in his gut as he recalled her words, and he forced out a gruff laugh.  It hurt, but he dared not show it.  “And nothing more.”

[hedonist-aesthete]

I took a really pretty screenshot of Ambarys the other day, so obviously I had to doodle it.

Also Keerava decided to try wearing her broom once and the image has lived rent free in my head since.

[savleye]

im playing skyrim for the first time and i just got to riften and why is this random barmaid the coolest looking argonian in the entire game. like if shes not relevant to a future quest im going to be upset.

[omgkalyppso]

[ritmund-jpg]

Look, the prettiest man in Riften! I think Keerava is a happy woman

I want to draw all the argonians from tesV like that, so who you want to be the next??? (i love them really much so can't decide ahh)

[dawns-beauty]

Children of the Hist - Riften Argonian NPCs

First, Madesi's nicer screenshot

Wujeeta, using a custom Oblivion-inspired horns

Talen-Jei, sporting a feathery style similar to a certain 2nd Era Argoninan

Keerava, with some fancy new bling and horns. I didn't change her actual face/colors much because she's my favorite design from the vanilla game.

From-Deepest-Fathoms, now a bit more Morrowind

[morpheus-somnium]

Thieves Guild [modern au]

[masterlist]

Informations

Location: Ragged Flagon, Ratway, Riften

Leader: Mercer Frey

Headcanons

The Ratway in my modern au is a street or scummy neighborhood that most people avoid. The Ragged Flagon is an internet cafe.

I mean, I can see Delvin doxing someone while eating instant noodles, tbh.

From the outside, it looks so bad, but from the inside, it really is. JK. Inside it’s pretty cool; you can buy different foods, there is an electric kettle, and maybe you can even get some drinks from Vekel if you are old enough.

In fact, a lot of people come here to actually play online games, and no one cares when a shady figure in the back of the cafe is on Facebook, writing a letter to an unknown Orc grandmother and convincing her that he is her missing grandson and let him have her inheritance.

The Thieves Guild, as a faction, is very diverse. They scam, they dox, they plan and do actual heists, they hack bank accounts, they pickpocket people (if they ever get out of bed or the internet café), they steal, they start a “devious lick” trend on social media…

Ragged Flagon is more of a meeting point for them.

On a larger-caliber mission, the members wear mainly techwear.

Brynjolf? You will find it in every city. He’s always in shopping centers where he scams people. Not in the underpass, but in the building itself. For example, he sells “nano-magic” and “high-tech” phone protector screens that were stolen from a one-dollar store (or from a delivery van).

Delvin works with technology; he is the one hacking bank accounts, and I think he might invest in crypto 😭 He is also kind of like a walking lexicon?

Even though Mercer says that there aren’t any places that the Guild protects, every other member thinks otherwise. For example, the members never still from orphanages, and they never steal from those places that certain members visit (in a non-criminal way). For example, I think Vex likes hot springs, jacuzzis, saunas, etc., so no one steals from the local spa that she visits (not even her, unless there is a rude customer).

They organize family game nights!! They play Mario Kart and similar games.

And they also place dozens of bets on the people they know, not just guild members. They made bets on when Talen-Jei would propose to Keerava, for example.

How does Mercer subdue the Thieves Guild? He keeps the prices so high for everyone. He charges almost 3-5 times more for internet and electricity. And the members don’t question it. Like they are one (1) Google search away from finding out that the average price for using the computers and wifi should be around 12 septim and not 40 septim.

[argisthebulwark]

just realized when you're collecting money from keerava/haelga/bersi in the beginning of the thieves guild questline they only refer to Brynjolf. no one mentions Mercer. very funny to think that the average Riften citizen considers Bryn the actual leader of the Guild

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch.1:

No Risk, No Reward

Next: Ch.2 - All Eyes on Us Fic Masterpost

Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,781

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

AN: I have nothing to say for myself other than that Brynjolf is one of my favorite Skyrim characters, and this is an excuse for me to flesh him out both as an individual and in relation to the player. Has this probably been done a thousand times? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not. Thanks for reading! (and let me know if you want to be tagged in updates, I'll do so if you like!)

--- --- ---

Brynjolf had a headache.

He’d had a faint one building behind his eyes for most of the day, but after listening to Keerava complain- loudly- that the Guild was asking more than she could afford for protection and that if he knew what was good for him he’d jump of the pier…his head was well and truly pounding. 

“Want me to top that off for you, Bryn?” 

Brynjolf blinked, and looked up to see Vekel looking at him expectantly, a flagon in his hand. 

“Sorry lad, what was that?” 

Vekel chuckled, and filled Brynjolf’s tankard with ale. 

“You’ve been distracted lately, my friend. Better not let Mercer catch you staring off into space like that.” 

“Now there’s an earful I don’t need,” Brynjolf agreed, lifting his tankard in acknowledgement before taking a swig. 

“Well, go on then,” Vekel prodded. “Tell us what’s going on in that big brain of yours.” 

“It’s nothing lad, just a headache,” Brynjolf said, but Vekel shook his head.

“I’m not just talking about today, Bryn, you’ve been off ever since you pulled that job on Brand-Shei.” 

“Have I?” Brynolf asked, and Vekel nodded.

“You have. Which doesn’t track,” Dirge piped up, walking over to the bar. “Because you said that the job went off without a hitch.” 

“So if you’re not thinking about the job, what are you thinking about?” Vekel asked. 

A face came to Brynjolf’s mind unbidden, bright eyes and sharp features framed by dark hair, but he pushed the image away. 

“You know as well as I do that the Guild’s seen better days, lads,” he said, taking another sip. “Just trying to work out how to bring her back to her former glory.” 

“Aaaah, so that’s why you’ve been distracted these past few days,” Vekel said knowingly. “You think you’ve found another recruit, don’t you?” 

“So what if I have?” Brynjolf demanded, arching an eyebrow at the barkeep. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: what this outfit needs is some fresh blood.”

“Except the last three recruits you tried to bring on board washed out before they could make any serious coin,” Dirge pointed out, and Brynjolf frowned.

“At least I’m actually trying to solve the problem,” he said. “If we ever want to get back on our feet, the Thieves Guild needs to actually employ some master thieves.” 

“Aaaand, the last few kids you pulled into this mess were ‘master thief’ material?” Dirge asked, and Vekel snickered. 

“Give it up, Brynjolf,” he said. “Those days are over.” 

Brynjolf sighed.

“I’m telling you, this one is different…” he began, but Dirge scoffed.

“We’ve all heard that one before, Bryn! Quit kidding yourself.” 

Brynjolf opened his mouth to reply, but paused. Beneath his friends’ ribbing and the quiet clinking of cups on tables and forks on plates from the Flagon’s few other patrons, there was another sound. The sound of boots on stone, the steps slow and cautious as they approached. 

“It’s time to face the truth, old friend,” Vekel said. “You, Vex, Mercer…you’re all part of a dying breed. Things are changing!” 

Brynjolf turned, saw exactly who he’d hoped he would, and a smile spread across his face. 

“Dying breed, eh?” he repeated. “Well what do you call that then!” 

The woman was slight, an Imperial by the looks of her, and she had a bow drawn, one arrow knocked loosely on the string.

“Well well, color me impressed, lass,” Brynjolf said, nodding to her. “I wasn’t certain I’d ever see you again.”

The woman’s eyes flitted around, lingering on Dirge for a moment before eventually slinging her bow over her shoulder.

“Getting here was easy,” she said, stowing her arrow in its quiver. 

Brynjolf chuckled.

“Reliable and headstrong? You’re proving to be quite the prize. The name’s Brynjolf, lass.” 

“Ariene,” said the Imperial.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Brynjolf said. “So... now that I've whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?"

Ariene frowned, shifting her weight.

“Deadbeats?” she asked. “What’d they do?” 

“They owe our organization some serious coin, and they’ve decided not to pay,” Brynjolf explained. “I want you to explain to them the error of their ways.” 

Ariene nodded thoughtfully.

“Sounds good…who are they?”

“Keerava,” Brynjolf said, ticking the marks off on his fingers, “Bersi Honey-Hand, and Haelga. Do this right, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.”

“And…how do you want me to handle it?” Ariene asked carefully.

Brynjolf sighed, his mind drifting back to the insults that Keerava had thrown at him that morning.

“Honestly? The debt is secondary here. What’s more important is that you get the message across that we are to be ignored.” He frowned, and looked pointedly at the bow strapped to Ariene’s back. “A word of warning though…I don’t want any of them killed. Bad for business.”

To his surprise, Ariene’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and she nodded.

“Will I get a cut?” she asked, and Brynjolf laughed.

“Of course you’ll get a cut. We take care of our own.”

“Then consider it done.”

“Alright then lass, get going. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

The woman nodded and turned without another word, heading back into the ratways the way she came.

Brynjolf grinned, and turned back to Dirge and Vekel.

“Anything to say now, lads?”

“Sure, she made it down here,” Vekel said dismissively. “But that doesn’t make her a master thief. A hundred septims says she’ll turn out just like all the others.”

“I told you Vekel, this one is different,” Brynjolf insisted.

Still, as he sat back down at the bar, it was hard to ignore the facts. He’d been trying to breathe new life into the Guild, but Vekel and Dirge had a point. Previous recruits hadn’t stuck around long. Some didn’t keep up a high standard of work, others realized how poor the Guild’s standing really was and abandoned it. A few had even been caught and either killed or imprisoned. 

Brynjolf knew Mercer was running out of patience with his attempts, but he didn’t see any other options. They couldn’t rely solely on Maven forever, and the way Brynjolf saw it, their dwindling reputation and cash flow needed to be addressed, or the Guild, and everyone in it, would be history.

You’d better come through for me, lass, he thought, bringing his tankard to his lips. Because I’m putting my last bet on you.

--- --- ---

Despite his high hopes, part of Brynjolf was worried that the woman would simply take the money for herself and disappear after shaking down her three marks. After all, it’d taken her several days to reappear in the ratways after the job on Brand-Shei, and Brynjolf had been doing this for a long time. 

His gut told him that she would pull through, but having a contingency was just as important as having good instincts. He’d put the word out to his contacts within the city guard to alert him if an imperial woman fitting Ariene's description tried to skip town, and he had a few others keeping eyes on the docks and weak points in the city walls in case she tried to slip out that way. 

Mercer had given him the usual grief about wasting manpower, but Brynjolf knew that if the coin came through, he’d let the matter go. And as the day drew to a close and no runners came bursting into the Flagon to tell him that his recruit had killed one of the marks or vanished with his gold, the more sure he became that this had been a good call. 

“I still don’t know about this, Bryn,” Delvin grumbled. “Even if this new recruit of yours is as good as you say, that don’t mean that the curse ain’t gonna affect them, same as the rest of us.”  

Brynjolf rolled his eyes. 

“Mentioning the curse in every other conversation isn’t going to make more people believe you, old man. It’s just going to make them think you’re crazy.”

“You can call me what you like,” Delvin said, shrugging. “Don’t change the facts.” 

“Brynjolf,” Dirge called, and Brynjolf looked up to see Ariene walking towards them, a sack of gold in her hand. 

“Well well, look who’s back,” he said, shooting a smug look over his shoulder at Delvin, who just shook his head and took a sip of his ale. 

“So lass,” he said, getting to his feet. “Job’s done, and you even brought the gold.” He spotted movement behind her, and saw one of his runners slip into the Flagon. They flashed him a quick hand signal, and he smiled. “Best of all, you did it clean. I like that. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive.” 

Ariene nodded, and held out the coin purse. 

“Here’s what they owed us,” she said, and Brynjolf took it. 

“Well done, lass. And it would seem I owe you something in return.”

He turned and picked up a few potion bottles from the table behind him. 

“Here you go, I think you’ll find these quite useful.” 

Ariene took them, examined them for a moment, then nodded, slipping them into a satchel at her side. 

“What’s next, then?” she asked.

“Well,” Brynjolf said, hefting the bag of coin in his hand. “Judging from how well you handled those shopkeepers, I’d say you’ve done more than simply prove yourself.” 

He looked back at Delvin and raised an eyebrow. The man nodded, and Brynjolf smiled at Ariene. 

“We need people like you in our outfit.” 

Ariene looked around, and Brynjolf saw her eyes linger on the rickety tables, on the grime covering the tankards, and the empty seats covered in dust. She looked up at him, and after a moment of meeting his gaze, she nodded.

“If there’s more gold where that came from, then I’m in.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Brynjolf said, grinning. “Larceny’s in your blood…the telltale sign of a practiced thief. I think you’ll do more than just fit in around here.” 

Brynjolf turned to lead her to the cistern but she hesitated.

“Before we go, I have to ask…” she trailed off, and looked around the room again.

“What’s on your mind?” Brynjolf asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Word is your outfit isn’t doing…well.” One side of her mouth ticked up in a half smile, and she gestured vaguely around them. “True?”

Brynjolf chuckled. 

“You’re a sharp one, lass. Aye, we’ve run into a bit of a rough patch lately…but it’s nothing to be concerned about.” He let out a sigh, then flashed her a small smile. “Tell you what. You keep making us coin, and I’ll worry about everything else. Fair enough?” 

Ariene nodded slowly. 

“Fair enough.” 

“Now, if there are no more questions? How about you follow me, and I’ll show you what we’re all about.” 

Brynjolf led Ariene through the back room, sliding away the false panel in the storage cupboard and stepping through to the passageway beyond.

“So everyone in the tavern back there, they’re all members?” Ariene asked.

“Not everyone is,” Brynjolf explained. “Vekel owns the Ragged Flagon, and Dirge works for him. Tonilia, well, she’s got her own business. But they all work closely with us. We keep coin in each other's pockets and watch each other's backs.” 

“And you lead the Guild?” asked Ariene, and Brynjolf scoffed.

“Me? No, lass. I’m just a lieutenant. I keep things running as smooth as I can, but I’m no Guildmaster. Mercer is the one who makes the decisions around here. And speaking of…”

He led her into the cistern, where Mercer was waiting for them on the dais in the center of the room.

"Mercer?” he called. “This is the one I was talking about...our new recruit."

Mercer sighed and folded his arms.

"This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf," he said. 

He turned to Ariene, and looked her up and down slowly. A frown spread across his face, and he folded his arms.

"Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” he said, addressing her. “If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions... you do what we say, when we say.”

Ariene raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, mirroring Mercer’s pose.

“Do I make myself clear?" Mercer demanded, and Ariene glanced over at Brynjolf. 

“Rules?” she asked, looking back to Mercer. “We’re thieves. What’s the point of rules?

Mercer took a slow step forward, stopping only when he was mere inches away from her face, and Brynjolf grimaced. 

“I'll let that comment go because you're new here,” Mercer growled. “Ask things out of turn again, and we have a problem. Now, are. We. Clear?" 

Ariene, to her credit, didn’t react beyond a slight tensing of her shoulders, and she nodded once. 

“Crystal,” she said evenly.

“Good,” Mercer said, stepping back. “Then I think it's time we put your expertise to the test."  

“Wait a moment,” Brynjolf said, frowning. There was only one job going on at the moment that Mercer was concerning himself with…a job that Brynjolf had not intended for a fresh recruit to try and take on all alone. “You’re not talking about Goldenglow, are you?” he asked, and Mercer nodded. “Even our little Vex couldn’t get in!”

Mercer just raised an eyebrow. 

“You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it.” 

“Goldenglow?” Ariene repeated, and Mercer turned back to her. 

“Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients,” he explained. “However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details." 

He turned, clearly signaling that the conversation was over, and Brynjolf folded his arms. 

“Mercer. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hmm?” he looked back at them, and Brynjolf looked pointedly at Ariene. “Oh, yes. Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, then you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild.”

He turned and strode away, and Brynjolf blew out a breath before smiling at Ariene with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. 

“Well he’s cheerful,” Ariene said quietly, a grin playing at the edge of her mouth, and Brynjolf tilted his head.

“How much of that ignorance was on purpose?” he asked, and she shrugged. 

“I wanted to see how he’d respond to confrontation. Evidently, not well.” 

“Well, I could have told you that,” Brynjolf said with a quiet laugh. “But never mind that now. You’re in. Welcome to the family, lass. I'm expecting you to make us a lot of coin, so don't disappoint me."

Ariene nodded. 

“So how do I get my cut of the spoils?” she asked. 

“Simple,” Brynjolf replied. “Do as you're told and keep your blade clean. We can't turn a profit by killing.”

“Fine by me.” 

“You should talk with Delvin Mallory and Vex. They know their way around this place and they'll be able to kick some extra jobs your way. Oh, and talk to Tonilia in the Flagon... she'll set you up with your new armor.” 

“Speaking of the Flagon, I could use a drink,” Ariene said. “Let me buy you one too…as an apology for upsetting Mercer.”

Brynjolf shook his head. 

“I told you lass, you just worry about making us coin. I’ll worry about everything else, and that includes Mercer, alright?”

“Well then...consider it a thank you,” she suggested. 

“A thank you?” he repeated, and she actually looked a tad sheepish.

“I can tell you were taking a chance, bringing me in to all of this,” she said, her voice quiet. “It was a risk; a risk that you didn’t have to take. And I…appreciate that.” 

Brynjolf smiled.

“Well, I suppose I have time for a quick drink. A drink, and a toast to the newest member of the Guild.”  

Ariene brightened, and turned to head out of the cistern and back into the Flagon. Brynjolf went to follow, but glanced back over his shoulder. Mercer stood at his desk, leaning over a set of plans with a frown on his face. 

“Tell you what lass,” Brynjolf said slowly. “You go on ahead, introduce yourself to the others. I’ll join you in a moment, and we can discuss business.” 

Ariene nodded, and Brynjolf watched her go, waiting until the door to the Flagon closed behind her before turning and striding across the room.

“Mercer!” he said, and Mercer glared up at him. “We need to talk.”

--- --- ---

Next: Ch.2

[throughtrialbyfire]

Friday Kiss Tag Game ♥

wooooo!! thank you so much for tagging me @boethiahspillowbook !! <3 this was so much fun to write and i'm delighted to share this piece!!

i'm tagging @totally-not-deacon @trickstarbrave @your-talos-is-problematic @skyrim-forever @orfeoarte @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @umbracirrus and anyone who wants to do it, if you're not tagged, feel free to hop in!! and no pressure as always!!

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

decided to bring a little treat, this features my very first LDB oc, Hyron Aedther! he's such a challenge and a joy to write. this is fresh out of the brain, and i hope you enjoy it!!

Hyron was not a very tactful man, but he was good at what he did. Stealing seemed to run in the family, as whispers of his grandfather's history with the Thieves Guild of Cyrodiil echoed down the branches of his lineage like a harsh and hollow wind. Still, wind nonetheless, and he tended not to reflect on the dead too long. The Altmer wound his way through the streets of Riften, noon sunlight dripping along the mountains like cupped hands desperately dragging water from a stream, in hopes this would quench the thirst. He had found himself doing this more than he liked. His silver hair tied behind him, the world at his back, he wondered if this would all come to a peaceful end. No, he chastised himself, don't be so dramatic, Hyron. It's only a crush. He seldom found himself in these positions, heart bent over backwards for the attentions of someone who he didn't know if would or could return his feelings. But he'd found himself watching the other man in the Ragged Flagon with increasing interest over the past few weeks, the way the ginger joked with Vekel and Delvin, the way he laughed at Vex's dry humor, the sound of his laugh, gods, the sound of his laugh. It battered Hyron open entirely, the sound of that thief's laugh. Brynjolf. Gods, his name even felt right in his mouth. Brynjolf, his friend, Brynjolf, his fellow thief, Bryn… Gods. Gods, he was utterly pathetic.

Pathetic. Like a soggy, sopping wet hound back from a hunt with nothing to show for it, to a master who would only feed him half the scraps he'd saved that night as punishment for his effort. His stomach churned with the weight of it. The thought of Brynjolf rejecting him made him want to tear his hair out, the image of the man's mouth moving in such a way to say, 'I'm sorry, lad, I just don't feel the same.' Or worse, what if he laughed at him? What if he thought Hyron was a lovesick fool, unfit to handle being in the same room as him? What if he hated Hyron for this, solely on the basis that Hyron had shown one fleck of weakness in the wild portrait of his life, the intensity of the color so rotten and bare it turned all away with it? What if… "Ah, there you are, lad. I've been looking for you."

The sound of his voice made the Altmer jump. He turned, the other thief rushing to catch up to him, his guild boots - mismatched with his regular dayclothes, his blue coat wrapped around his arms - thudding the wooden boards of the bridge over the canal. "Oh." Brynjolf furrowed his brow, slowing his pace as he approached the taller man. "Something on your mind?" Hyron shook his head. "No." A moment passed between them, before the other shrugged his shoulders, taking in their surroundings with familiarity, a boredom passing into his face. "What'd'you say we head to the Bee and Barb, get something to drink?" Hyron scoffed with a frail smirk, "why not the Flagon?" Brynjolf returned the smirk with a shrug. "Need a change of scenery, of course." Much to Keerava and Talen-Jei's displeasure, they found the two thieves in their tavern, keeping a distance from the bar, choosing instead to sit by the stairs. After a couple of small drinks and a paltry meal, Brynjolf turned to Hyron, his sharp gaze not missing the slight flinch of the elf's shoulders. "Alright, come on," he said in a quiet voice, "what's on your mind, lad?" Hyron knit his brow, and Brynjolf rolled his eyes. "You've been quieter than usual, and that's saying something."

Hyron's pulse quickened. "Nothing." He paused, and before Brynjolf could interject, he piped up, "I'm adjusting to my new life. It's hard." Brynjolf thought this over, rubbing at his chin, the bristle of it against his hand making a noise that Hyron only wished could be caused by his hand in the same place on the man's face, only wished he could rub his cheek, thumb his cheekbone, run his fingers though his fire-red hair, look into his eyes so intensely it was as though staring into a chasm of ice back in Winterhold- "You seem to be doing a lot of adjusting lately. I'm guessing this has something to do with that whole Dragonborn business." Hyron nodded. A lie. It worked. "I see." Brynjolf didn't seem satisfied, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his barrel chest. He looked towards the bar, flitting his gaze between Hyron and Keerava, before rising. A few moments passed of him exchanging quiet words with the Argonian woman, before she handed him a key. Approaching Hyron, he cocked his head quickly to the stairs. "Come on, let's talk somewhere private." His heart hammered against his chest. In his throat. No way out. Mouse. Mouse in a trap. Hyron stood there with the door behind him and the bed before and Brynjolf opening the window to let some fresh air in - as fresh as it got here - and turned back to him, noon sun golden on his skin. "Come on, out with it, lad. I know it can't just be this Dragonborn mess that's got you all worked up." Hyron swallowed hard. His chest hurt. He sat on the edge of the bed and released a loud, exasperated sigh, cradling his face in his hands. The pressure next to him told him that Brynjolf was seated right there, right there, next to him, gods, he could feel his body heat, it made Hyron dizzy. Intoxicating, the feel of the other's presence. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't," he grunted in his typical manner, cursing himself internally for it. He was never one for words. Never found them useful. So, instead, he remained quiet most often, but here and now with Brynjolf beside him…

"I may be in over my head with something." He finally decided that this was a conclusive enough answer. He looked through his long, golden fingers to Brynjolf, who appeared taken aback. "It's not something I'm used to." "Well, if it's debts you need settling, that's your own business, I'm afraid. We look out for each other in the Guild, but we pay our own ways." Hyron waited, then shook his head, silver eyes latched to the other. Brynjolf relaxed only momentarily, before leaning closer, intrigued. "…Oh, lad," he grinned now, a waggle of his brow catching Hyron off-guard, "is it perhaps a lady you're in trouble with?" Hyron waited. Shook his head. Brynjolf, this time, cocked his head to the side for a second before it hit him, and he nodded slow, almost sagely. "A man." Hyron nodded. "I see." The silence threw Hyron under the weight of the entire lake, an entire mountain's worth of pressure in his spine, his stomach tying furious knots, a sailor afraid of falling overboard. Before too long could pass, before the moment could fall apart, Brynjolf raked his fingers through his hair and rested his elbows against his knees, leaning forward, something bitter crossing his eyes. "I understand." What?

Hyron removed his hands from his face as the other began to speak, picking his words carefully. "I've had relationships that have gone… Well, for lack of better words to describe it, terribly. But I've also had some lovely ones. Sometimes someone comes along and everything about them tears you open like a ragged purse, reminds you of all the things you once wanted when you were a young man. I don't really chase these sorts of urges, to spill open for people, but…" Neither spoke a while. The noon crept closer to evening. Hyron watched Brynjolf and Brynjolf watched Hyron and before the Altmer could find the words for it, he cradled the other's face in his long, spindly hand, and when Brynjolf pressed his own palm against it, terror seized him that it was to push his hand away and to tell him to leave and to never come back and to forever fade from Brynjolf's memory, but now, no, he did not do that, instead the Nord ran his fingers along Hyron's and seemed to grow closer to him, closer in a way that made Hyron's stomach ache and his chest burn and bleed open with his pulse, so loud he swore the Nord heard it. It was a soft kiss, much softer than the Altmer anticipated. Brynjolf's lips were rough, not unexpected, but warm, and he was so tender with the other, so unexpectedly comforting. Hyron swore he glimpsed the gods a moment there, and he found his arms around Brynjolf's neck, deepening their kiss until he thought he might break his own nose against the other. When Brynjolf pulled away, he laughed, heartfelt and soothing. Worry turned away from Hyron's mind, no longer interested in haunting him, his eyes locked on the Nord. "The night's still young. There's loose coin for the taking, and plenty of room in this bed afterwards." The promise of more tore Hyron open with light, a burning, a brightness that he hadn't felt in so many years. All he could do was nod, and together, the pair departed, off to fill the Guild coffers with gold and their time with each other.