#brynjolf x dovahkiin

[coffee-at-daybreak]

no more games | brynjolf x f!reader

can't sleep it's skyrim sexyman thirsting time. also! this is really only labeled as f!reader bc bryn says "lass" a few times but otherwise there are no explicit pronouns used for reader. it also gets like the slightest bit steamy but i don't think it needs any tags, lmk if i should though! anyway hope you enjoy tysm for reading!!!

Not even the pouch of septims tucked along your belt makes a noise as you slip into the entrance of Nightingale Hall. The singing of crickets fades behind you, replaced by the eerie silence of the cave. 

You continue all the way down the windy tunnel, past the waterfall and run down bridge alongside it. You pass through the archway leading into the main interior hall, bathed in warm light from the nearby torches. Then, you finally relax. 

Your shoulders droop and your lungs expand with a deep breath. You pull your hood off your head and reach for the newly attained loot at your belt. A small, hefty pouch of septims, with a valuable piece of jewelry wrapped tightly around it. 

You drift closer to one of the torches to get a better look. A necklace, you realize. In your hurry to snatch it off that sleeping nobleman at the Bee and Barb, you'd barely gotten a glance at it. All you knew at that moment was that it was valuable, and you had to have it. 

With deft fingers, you pull the necklace off the pouch and hold it up to study the material. It's made of shiny gold, and has a large pendant dangling off of it. The pendant is round, with a small but glimmering red stone in the center, and intricate markings etched into the gold around it. 

You're turning the treasure between your fingers when you hear a low whistle come from behind you. 

"Now that's quite the prize," Brynjolf's voice flows across the hall. You turn around to see him slipping in from one of the nearby tunnels. 

You turn back to the necklace, trying to ignore the sudden jump in your heart rate. "You know me - I have to take anything that catches my eye."

Brynjolf chuckles. "I don't blame you for it, lass." He stops next to you. "Where'd you get it?"

"Some rich drunkard at the inn. I don't think he'll miss it much." You hold out the necklace by the pendant for him to see. When he goes to take it, his fingers just barely graze over your own. The flicker of warmth you feel from them seems to shoot all the way up your arm. 

He studies the necklace for a moment, giving you a chance to study him. His emerald eyes are bright with awe, and his russet hair looks even brighter, nearly matching the intensity of the torch light. He's in his Nightingale garb, but everything's slightly .. unkempt. He definitely didn't just come back from a job like you. 

"Flawless ruby, for sure," he murmurs. "Very valuable, indeed." His eyes flick to catch your own. "And quite the beauty."

You cross your arms and hold his gaze. You pretend not to notice the gesture - and pretend you don't feel a blush crawling up your neck. "I am not trading that in to Delvin. Don't even ask."

He grins. "What if I take it off your hands?"

You reach over and snatch it from him. "Not for sale."

He chuckles again, a low rumble from deep within his chest. You tuck the necklace into one of the many pockets at your belt and start to head back to the waterfall cave. Crashing into one of those old beds there sounds rather tempting right now. 

"What are you doing here right now, anyway?" You ask Brynjolf as you walk. His footsteps trail behind you. 

"Housekeeping, of course," he replies. "This place has more cobwebs than the Ratway."

You smile at the hint of disgust in his tone. "Afraid of spiders, are you?"

"Aye, just a bit. I don't much like the thought of them crawling around while I sleep." 

You roll your eyes in amusement as you stop next to a bed. The gentle rushing water of the fall and creek echo around the room. The familiar smell of wet stone and misty air flows to your nose. It's not the most pleasant scent, but it's a significant difference from the cistern. 

"I'm surprised you're up at all," you say with a snicker. "It's rather late."

Your gloves come off, and you stoop down to start working off your boots. You hear another couple approaching footsteps. 

"What if I said I was hoping to run into you here?" Brynjolf asks. 

This time, your heart feels like it's leaped into your throat. You try to swallow the nerves down, and focus on slipping off your boots. "You can run into me anytime in the cistern - anywhere in Riften, really. Why here?"

"Because we're alone."

You straighten up, and turn around, and nearly jump back. He'd moved much closer now, a mere hand's width away. The sudden proximity just about takes the breath out of you. 

His eyes seem dark, but there's a little bit of torch light reflecting off of them. And when he smiles, they seem to glimmer. Very much like the stone of that necklace. Something about his eyes is much more captivating, though. 

"I know you feel it, too, lass," he murmurs, voice so soft that you wouldn't be able to hear it over the water if he weren't so close. The cave air suddenly feels warmer than it did a moment ago.

You gulp. "Feel what?"

Brynjolf's head tilts slightly, and he lifts an eyebrow. You know he's clever enough to figure out when you're playing dumb. But of course, he has to play along. 

He takes a step closer. You back up, but your back meets the rough stone of a wall, and you freeze. 

"Don't be coy, now." His eyes  break away from your own, only to travel around your face. You see them looking at your hair, your cheeks, your nose. Then back to your eyes. "I don't exactly try to hide it anymore, if you couldn't tell."

You exhale. Your breath comes out choppy. You don't try to hide it either, because the first thing you look at when you break your eyes away from his is his lips. That slight smirk in them makes your insides coil. 

You had felt a connection with Brynjolf from the moment you'd met. It didn't take long to realize it was more than just a platonic connection. You'd never forget the way your heart went into a frenzy when you and Karliah returned from Snow Veil Sanctum and Brynjolf was trembling with relief. Or the way you'd held each other in Bronze Water Cave, trembling from both the tumultous battle with Mercer and the freezing water you'd so desperately escaped. And the little moments in between the big ones had the same effect. It felt like a game - a tedious, frustrating game of throwing flirtations and quips at each other to see who would crack first. You couldn't deny it any longer, and truthfully, you were tired of trying. 

"You know it's not wise, though," you say. Your words are a protest, but the way you tilt your head up, closer to his own, is the opposite. "We're Nightingales now, after all. Sworn to duty, with no distractions."

Brynjolf pauses for a moment. His hand lifts, and finds the side of your face. You suppress a shiver as the warm skin of his thumb brushes your cheekbone.

"I think we can find a balance, lass." He leans a tad inch closer, and his breath is ghosting over you. 

You let out another shaky breath. Your eyes flutter closed when his thumb moves lower. It trails along your cheek, under your jaw, down your neck. He spreads his hand along the side of your neck, and you know he must feel your racing pulse somewhere in there. 

"I took an oath to Nocturnal because I had to," he whispers. "But you-" his other hand circles your waist, pulling you closer, and by the Gods you nearly collapse against him. Your hands press flat against his chest in an effort to steady yourself. You grow weaker still as he continues, "I'd willingly lay my life down for you. I'd do anything for you."

His voice seems to flow around you. You can hardly imagine your  surroundings anymore - you only feel his hand trailing your side, his breath tickling your skin, his heartbeat thumping beneath your palm. His entire presence is like honey, as if you could melt right into it. 

"Bryn-" Your hushed breath is cut short. His hand is coming off your waist, and coming up between the two of you. 

You open your eyes. He's holding up the golden necklace, dangling from his fingers. 

He grins. That stupid, charming grin. 

You narrow your eyes. "Really?" 

"Easy pick." He leans back, but his other hand doesn't come completely off of you. It glides from your neck to your shoulder, leaving sparks in its wake. He gives the necklace a light swing with his other hand. "Take it back if you can."

You merely glare at him. He still wants to play games. You don't.

Your hand flies out. Brynjolf reels back instinctively. But instead of your hand fishing for the necklace, you hook it around one of the buckles on his chest, and pull him in until your lips meet.

Heat floods you instantly, from just about everywhere. He kisses you back so fiercely that you nearly lose your footing again. But his arms are quick to take you in, one squeezing around your waist and the other coming up along your back. Just as you break the kiss for a gasp of air, his hand buries in your hair, and he's angling your head to bring you back in. 

You clutch at him, pressing as close as you can. It almost feels like you could mold into him, with how perfectly your body fits against his own. It feels right - he feels right. 

You lose track of how many kisses you exchange, how many gasps of air you trade, how many times your hands grip each other in a new spot. You lose yourself completely in him, in his firm lips, in his powerful arms, in that faint taste of Black Briar mead on his tongue and -

Someone clears their throat behind you both. 

In an instant, Brynjolf breaks the kiss and whirls on his feet. He pulls you with him though, earning a small gasp from you when his arm stays hooked firmly around your waist. His other hand is quick to pull out a dagger and point it in front of him. 

Karliah leans against the archway, her violet eyes glimmering in the faint light of the cave. "Good evening," she murmurs.

Brynjolf huffs, his chest heaving against your own. "By Talos, lass. Thought you were an intruder."

You're struggling to catch your breath, especially since you're still pressed up close to him. Your head is spinning and a fuzzy warmth takes over your face as you glance up at Karliah. 

The Dunmer tilts her head. "No, but it seems I did intrude on something."  She leans off the wall. "My apologies. I'll be off... housekeeping."

She disappears down the tunnel as quietly as she came. There's a brief second of silence save for the gurgling water nearby and your heart still roaring in your ears. 

You can't help the giggle that builds up, though, and drop your forehead against Brynjolf's chest. "Alone, huh?"

He scoffs, his breath tickling your hair. "Sorry, love. In my defense, the  girl's a ghost."

You laugh again. Just as you start to catch your breath, you feel Brynjolf's hand hook under your chin, and he's tilting your head up. There's another fluttering warmth in your belly as you meet his gaze. 

"No more dancing around the matter, right?" He asks, voice soft but serious.  His eyes search yours intently. "No more games?"

You hum thoughtfully. You lift a hand up, where the golden necklace peeks out from your fingers. "I make no promises."

He chuckles, head shaking with amusement. "Aye, that's what I expected. So be it."

He yanks the necklace from you once again, and dives back in to crash his lips to yours before you can protest.

[ehrmantrautpup]

Art trade for @elvenforgedart !!!

[maysoulrose]

The Thief and The Moon chapter 11

Skyrim fanfic Brynjolf x my dark elf oc

—————————————— chapter 11———————

“Now for the fun bit!” Allustria squees with excitement. Brynjolf smiled at her enthusiasm. They escaped the tunnels beneath the meadery and had found the brewing vats. Allustria jumps up the stairs to the top of the enormous containers, dancing to each one, and spilling the poison into them. She leaps from the second floor, grabbing onto a pipe to swing from and slow her fall, landing next to Brynjolf, who just watches her, mesmerized. She tosses the bottle behind her shoulder  and grabs his hands. 

“Let’s go watch the show~”

Allustria leads Brynjolf into the shop. She smiles at Mallus at the bar and waves at Sabjorn, who scowls at Brynjolf.

“Who’s this?”

“Oh, him? I thought he’d be a great addition for the payment of a job well done” She bats her eyes. “But if you’re not into threesomes, He can just watch~” Brynjolf turns to her, shocked. Sabjorn’s face is burning. He flicked his eyes at Mallus to see if he was paying attention, who was indeed, and had a hand over his mouth stifling a laugh. 

“Ahem..”  The Captain of the Guard cleared his throat from the corner of the room. Allustria leans forward to look past Brynjolf, who was still speechless. She waves at the Captain who ignores her. 

“Can we please just get this done.” He spoke, rolling his eyes.

“O-of course sir!” Sabjorn pours the man a fresh brew and waits. The captain takes a sip and immediately spits it out, spraying it all over Sabjorn’s face. 

“WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS THIS? You told me you got rid of your rat problem!” The Captain spat all the remnants of the drink onto the ground. He grabbed the little man by the upper arm and led him to the door. “You’re coming with me. It’s obvious now that you’re not fit to run this place.” He wipes his mouth with his free hand and looks over to Mallus.  “You, you’re in charge here until I sort this thing out!” 

“Yes, sir.” Mallus gets out between hushed laughter.

“Wait, I— There’s been a misunderstanding!” Sabjorn pleaded.

“Shut up and get going!” 

Mallus burst into laughter as soon as the door was shut behind them. 

“That was even better than I could have possibly expected! And with your little remark of bedding him for payment?  Even better, HAH!” He continues with his laughter.

“Yeah,” Brynjolf grabs Allustria by the arm. “What was that about? Were you going to actually sleep with the man?!”

She lifts her chin and looks Brynjolf dead in the eyes. A smile spreads across her lips.

“Of course not~” she cocks her head to the side. “It was just obvious that he was a horny little bastard. Plus… he’s not my type~” Her tongue slides across her lips as she looks Brynjolf up and down. He swallowed a lump in his throat, trying to ignore the familiar throb pulsing in his pants. 

—————————————

After getting payment from Mallus, who also offered his services as a fence, they walked back to the city gates of Whiterun. Not much was said between them. Since the sun was setting, they decided it would be best to get a couple rooms at the Bannered Mare and head back to Riften in the morning.  Allustria checked on Shadowmere and then they passed through the gates once again. 

“We need to get some more inconspicuous clothing.” Allustria whispered when noticing one too many guards keeping an eye on them. 

“You can say that again. Let’s get a couple rooms first, then we can figure that out.”

“Agreed.”

They hurry through the streets and enter the tavern in the marketplace. It was just as bustling as it was before. Hulda greeted them, warmly, as she did everyone. 

“Got a couple of rooms to spare?” Allsutria leaned on the counter. Brynjolf followed her, resting his arm next to her while he scoured the patrons. 

“Afraid not. We’re quite busy tonight and only have the one available. Upstairs with the balcony.”

Brynjolf and Allustria exchange glances. They kind of shrug at each other.

“...We’ll take it.” The elf smiles, keeping her eyes on Brynjolf’s.

Hulda accepted their payment and called Saadia over, who showed them to their room.  It was incredibly private, being the only room on the second floor. Brynjolf looked all around and whistled with approval. When Saadia left them, they dumped their packs next to the bed. 

“I guess… I’ll get a bedroll and sleep on the floor. You take the bed.” Brynjolf started. “Looks like there’s a couple of extra blankets in the dresser that I can use—“

“Don’t be an idiot, it’s a double bed. We can share.” Allustria plopped down on the mattress. He looked a little nervous.

“What?”  Her eyebrow raises. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… hard.” She teases him. 

He snorts, smiling a little, feeling unsure. 

“It’s fine, I’ll take the floor.” He persists. Allustria frowns, but decides to leave it for now. 

To Allustria’s surprise, Brynjolf begins undressing in front of her. Swiftly unbuckling his armor, slipping off the leather belts and gloves. She sits and watches him, wondering if he finally decided to make a move. He kept his eye on her, smirking, and pulled off all the upper half of his thieves guild armor, revealing his soft cotton shirt beneath.

“What? You said to get a change of clothes~” He remarked at her staring wide eyed at him. She blushed and averted her eyes. Brynjolf adored that reaction. He always felt a rush of pride when he was able to fluster her. 

Allustria got up and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you're going?” 

“Unlike you, I need to go get something else to wear. I’ll be back soon.” She haphazardly waved and disappeared out of sight. He smiled to himself and began folding up his discarded clothes, and did a little unpacking. Might as well get a little comfortable, since they’re not in a hurry to get home. 

After laying out some blankets on the floor for his bed, Brynjolf did his hotel room routine of checking every cabinet door and drawer, and pocketed anything worth his time. 

 His eyes trail to the double bed. He brushed his fingertips along the covers and couldn’t help but imagine sharing them with her. Alone together with party goers an earshot away. His cheeks began to burn and a knot formed in his stomach at the thought. A nervous, but excited thought. 

Thinking of waking up to her staring at him, morning sun shining through the gaps in the roof. Daring to explore his imagination a bit further and wondered what might take place during the night. Maybe she would steal a kiss from him and lead him to the bed for further exploration. 

Brynjolf closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander a moment before continuing his search for goodies hidden in the room. A couple of septims had fallen beneath the bed frame from previous attendees. After collecting them, he kept his head to the floor. Maybe a ruby had rolled beneath a cabinet as well. 

Once finished, he leaned against the balcony railing and watched the tavern’s patrons. The sun had set and people from all over were coming in for their time to relax and socialize. He found himself checking the door occasionally. Still no sign of Allustria. 

Brynjolf decided to go down and join the party while he waited for her return. Taking a seat at the bar, he sipped on a bottle of mead, and observed.  Women were flirting with the guards, old friends were catching up, and mercenaries were sprinkled amongst them. It was incredibly lively. Every seat was taken and there was barely room to walk around. A few of the lovely ladies had wandered his way to flirt with him. Asking where he was from, if he was with anyone. He looked them up and down and would smile, but not engage. 

Occasionally, Brynjolf would slip his fingers into loose pockets as the owners would drunkenly stumble by. Fetching some jewelry and other treasures. 

Suddenly a symphony of wolf whistles filled the room. Brynjolf stopped mid-sip when he saw Allustria coming towards him. 

She was adorned in jewels. A necklace delicately hung from her neck, bracelets at her wrists, rings on her fingers, and golden earrings framed either side of her cheeks. Half of her hair was tied up in a loose bun, held there by a single smooth stick. Bits of silky white hair hung around her face, draping across her shoulders and down her back. 

Her dress was as beautiful and sensual as the elf herself. It had off shoulder sleeves, a small amount of golden green fabric covering her chest, tucked into a corset that snuggly wrapped around her waist. The dress spilled out from the bottom, passing her knees, and barely brushing against the tops of her feet. There was a high slit in the skirt that showed off her long legs. A pair of golden yellow boots adorned her feet, and climbed her leg, settling just past her knees. 

Keeping her eyes on her goal, she completely ignored the mercenaries and guards that approached her, and walked straight to Brynjolf who was still at the bar. Without a stutter, she elegantly placed herself right on his lap, wrapping her hands around his neck. 

“Is this seat taken?” She asked. He laughed, eyes darting between hers. He downed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth.

“It is now, Lass~” Wrapping his arms around her waist, trapping her. Her heart swelled at his firm grasp on her. She let out a tiny yelp and looked down at him with surprise. He kept his eyes on the crowd, but tightened his grip around her hips, knowing she felt a poke from beneath her.  She blushed and took note that he was a lively one…

————————

The night consisted of merriment and drinks all around, with which Allustria partook of, heavily. Brynjolf decided to keep it minimal with the booze, since she seemed to be extra enthusiastic about it. He thought that someone should keep a level head. Allustria would get up occasionally to go dance at the bard’s music and flirt with the men she noticed eyeing her up. Brynjolf kept watch on her, making sure she wasn’t sloshed enough to be taken advantage of. Normally he’d be jealous, watching her dance around another man. She'd fall in his lap and ruffle his hair before getting up to dance some more. But he noticed her often looking in his direction, as if checking to make sure he was watching her.  It eased his mind.

He oddly found himself enjoying it when she toyed with someone else. Every time he saw someone lingering their eyes on her, he felt the pain of arousal, just wanting her more. One of the onlookers got bold enough to caress his hand up her exposed thigh when she got close. Brynjolf was envious of what those fingertips were feeling. 

Allustria lowered her eyes to the culprit and smiled, but pushed him away with her toes, and gave him a naughty look.

She twirled around, hair swirling in every direction. She had taken her shoes off at some point and found a spot to dance near the fire, being the center of attention. Everyone watched, cheering and clapping to the upbeat tune. She tapped her toes, isolating her hips, moving them expertly, and fluidly maneuvered her wrists through the air. Keeping perfectly in time with the beat.

Bending this way and that, arching her back so she faced the beams, dancing her fingers in the light above her. Brynjolf didn’t know she was so flexible. She spun in place, hair whipping behind her, then stopped on her heel just as the song had ended.

The crowd cheered for her performance. Her chest raised and fell dramatically, showing how out of breath she was. Her skin glistened from a light sweat. A beautiful smile permanently stuck on her face. She blew kisses to the crowd and with a wobbly gait, she took her place next to Brynjolf. 

“I didn’t know you could dance so well,” he nudged. She accepted another drink and leaned her back against the bar.

“I have many talents~” She said with a slight slur in her voice. Perhaps having a few too many. 

———————————-

Time passed. Most of the crowd had dispersed. Hulda was leaning on her elbows, trying not to fall asleep, as she waited for the party goers to hit the hay or head to their homes. A couple drunkards were passed out, sprawled across the floor. Allustria was moments away from being one of them.

“I think it’s time we head to our room, Lass.” Brynjolf helped her to her feet, letting her lean her full weight on him. 

“Nhhhnnnnnnnnn” She mumbled, not helping in any shape or form.

“C’mon, Lass, work with me!” He ended up slinging her arms over his right shoulder and scooping her up, arms wrapped tightly just beneath her butt. He thanked Hulda for the hospitality and carried the elf up the stairs to their private room. 

He plopped her down on the bed and carefully lowered her onto her back. When trying to slip his arm out from under her, she quickly wrapped hers around his neck. He caught himself from almost falling right on top of her. His red hair, messy, and dangling in his face. She breathed deeply and opened her eyes to see him leaning over her. Smiling at the view. 

“Brynjooooolf.” She called, furrowing her eyebrows into a glare. “Why haven’t you kissed me yeeeeeeet?” 

His stomach filled with butterflies.  

“Don’t you like me?” Her lips formed an exaggerated frown.

“Of course I like you.” He replied, softly, and removed her hair stick from its entanglement. He brushed any loose strands away from her eyes and caressed her cheek. Her pout remained.

“Then kiss me…” She sighed, barely able to keep her eyes open. 

“Sorry, Lass… but not when you’re this drunk.” He laughs. “I’m not sure if that’s the booze talking and I don’t want to be wrong.”

“Hmmmnnn….” Her grip loosened around his neck and she let her arms go limp. Brynjolf’s eyes fell to the necklace draped across her collar bones. The top of her dress was tight and looked as though she could spill out of it with any sudden movement. By the Gods he wanted to do as she asked and more. 

“Did you like my show?” She whispered. Eyelids lowering.  “It was all for you…” she cooed.

Never had the butterflies residing in Brynjolf's stomach been so excited. He thought about caving in. Letting his arms give way and meeting her soft lips with his. But not yet. He wanted to be sure of her feelings. 

“I loved it.” He answered, lowering himself ever so slightly. A smile appeared across her lips. He let his fingertips trail down the side of her corset. Fingering the straps, considering loosening them…. So she could sleep more comfortably, of course. 

“Good~” She whispered, finally letting her eyes stay shut. He leaned in a little more and took in a deep breath, letting her scent intoxicate him.  She began to hum softly. Brynjolf's heart beat faster as he dared to inch closer.  The tips of their noses were inches from each other. Tilting his head to the side, he aimed for his goal, but stopped when he noticed her humming turned into soft snores as she fell asleep. 

He sighed, but smiled to himself. He let his shoulders relax and shook his head, shaking off the lust.  He decided that it would be alright to loosen the corset's laces after all. Unraveling the knot and tugging them loose. 

“Goodnight, Lass.” Brynjolf leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead instead. He sat up and took another look at her.  “You have no idea how much I want you.” pausing for a moment, he lifts her hand and kisses her delicate fingers. Lingering them to his lips.

Brynjolf reluctantly pulled himself away and bent down, picking up one of his blankets. He unraveled it and laid it on top of her. Then he kicked his shoes off and plopped his rump on his bedroll. He looked up to the rafters and let out a deep sigh, wondering if there was something wrong with him. He laid back, but his mind went on. 

She was just drunk. She’s always a complete flirt. What’s the difference between him and every other male she rests her eyes upon? His heart sank at those thoughts. 

‘Does she actually have feelings for me? Or was it just the booze.’ He debated on that thought for a good while. 

Turning onto his side with his hands tucked under his cheek, he looked over to her. All he could see were the soles of her feet dangling off the side of the bed. However she feels, he’s just glad she’s chosen to spend so much time with him.  

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 30 - The Jarl's Gratitude

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild's reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1, 279

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter! I have never been able to make it through a full novel-length fic, but thanks to support from friends and comments from readers, I had the motivation to finish the piece :) There will be a sequel coming, and I will work on it as much as possible with school happening, but I won't be posting it until the spring. For now, I'll be posting snippets here and there when I can be active in ask games and in general. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Despite being called in together, Jarl Laila addressed the thieves separately. Brynjolf was first, Laila granting him ownership to Riftweald Manor. “I understand that Mercer Frey is not the man we all thought. I thank you both for putting an end to his reign. Brynjolf, Riftweald is yours if you so wish. Anuriel will speak with you about the terms while I speak with your partner.”

“Thank you, my Jarl,” Brynjolf gave her a genuine smile and bowed his head before following the Bosmer into a separate room. 

“Adranelle Rolaine.” Jarl Laila smiled warmly as the half-Breton. Adi felt uncomfortable under the Jarl’s gaze, hearing her full name out loud for the first time. Even more so with Maven’s piercing glare directed at the half-Breton behind the Jarl. 

“How-”

“You’re the talk of the town lately,” Jarl Laila held up her hand, stopping Adi from speaking. “My steward has informed me that you’ve made quite an impression in the Rift; several of our citizens have expressed their admiration. Much like Mjoll, you’ve become a champion of our hold. Your willingness to help people with their difficulties and providing assistance for their needs has caused many to sing your praises. As the Jarl of Riften, I feel it is my duty to honour your selfless behaviour by honouring you with the title Thane of Riften.”

“I would be honoured to accept, my Jarl,” Adi showed gratitude, although felt unsure. The last thing she needed was another title that screamed ‘hero,’ but who was she to decline the Jarl?"

“Before I can present you with the title, there is but a single requirement you must fulfill,” Laila continued. “A Thane of Riften is required to maintain permanent residence within the city walls. My steward-”

“Sorry to interrupt, my Jarl,” Brynjolf took his place next to Adi once again, slinging an arm around her waist. “But that’s not an issue. Adi will be living with me.” 

“I am?” Adi looked up at the Nord, confused. Living together wasn’t something they had discussed quite yet, so his statement was quite a surprise.

“Only if you want to, lass,” he looked at her. When their eyes locked, Adi knew her answer right away. She would not turn him down when he had unadulterated love for her. 

“Of course I do,” she smiled. “That just caught me off guard.”

“Then it’s settled,” Jarl Laila pulled them back. “I officially bestow the title Thane of Riften on you.”

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” Jarl Laila shook her head. “You’ve solved more problems in the short time you’ve been here than anyone in my court has their entire careers. You’ve been a beacon of hope in these dark times for my people, and I will never forget it. Therefore, by my authority as Jarl, I pronounce you Thane of Riften and award you all the benefits befitting your station. Congratulations.” 

That comment made Maven sneer, and her eyes darken. That reaction alone caused Adi’s smile to grow. Not only was she receiving a Noble title, but Maven’s disgust towards the recognition Adi was getting made it worth accepting. 

“Your Housecarl, Iona, will meet you in Riftweald Manor. Please ensure you will have a room for her, should you choose to redecorate.” Jarl Laila dismissed the thieves. 

Hand-in-hand, they left Mistveil and made a beeline for Riftweald, Brynjolf handing Adi a key to their new home. Brynjolf told Adi that the process was easy. Anuriel had the paperwork in order and just needed him to sign it. He added Adi’s name right then and there. The Steward would hear about the Manor’s redesign by the end of the week. 

“My Thane, may I speak with you for a moment?” if it were any other voice, Adi would be baffled as to how word spread so quickly. However, Adi recognized it to be Maven. She was not keen on hearing what the Nord woman had to say to her. 

“I’ll meet you inside,” Adi told Bryn, squeezing his hand before approaching her mother. Brynjolf nodded and climbed up the ladder to the top floor entrance.

“What is it, Lady Maven?” she asked innocently. 

“I know who you are, and I’m aware you have found out who I am to you,” her tone was low, menacing. “If word of this were to spill to anyone other than yourself and Leo, I will not hesitate to remove you from this situation. We both know how quickly word spreads in this town.”

“Word spreads this quickly in any of the Hold’s towns,” Adi shrugged. “And I can assure you, the news I received before I left to end Mercer’s life isn’t one I’d be keen on anyone finding out, either. Besides, I know things about you that would tarnish your reputation even more than the town finding out you abandoned a baby almost 30 years ago. I suggest you back off and leave myself, Brynjolf, and the Guild alone; otherwise, your luck will run dry.” 

“I won’t give up that easily, dear daughter,” she smirked, knowing how much that word would irk Adi. “You’ve just threatened the wrong woman.”

“And so have you.” 

***

Six weeks later, Riftweald Manor looked completely different from the dump Mercer left it. All traps and triggers were gone, the bottom tunnels into the Ratway were blocked off, the top floor door lead to a closed-off balcony, and the ground entrances were usable. Given a well-deserved break from the Guild, Adi and Brynjolf focused fully on redesigning their home together. The final floor plan was approved by Iona and sent to Anuriel. Renovations took little time and made the space warm and welcoming. It was perfect. The thieves couldn’t be happier. 

After Adi and Brynjolf hung up their final decoration - a drawing made by Delvin of one of the Guild’s celebrations in the Flagon - they collapsed onto a loveseat, Brynjolf pulling Adi into his chest. “You think the place is ready for our friends tonight?”

“I think it’s perfect.” she looked up and kissed him deeply. The previous week, they had entered the Cistern and invited the Guild members to a small Housewarming party. Everything remotely fragile was thought about, in consideration of drunken thieves in one place, and Adi made sure they were either too high to reach or unmovable. Mostly both, if she was going, to be honest. 

“You’re perfect,” Brynjolf shifted, so Adi straddled him, tangling his fingers in her hair. He deepened the kiss, Adi reciprocating with no hesitation, and moved to start removing her civilian clothes when a loud knock sounded at their front door. “You’d think that we wouldn’t get interrupted as much being away from the Cistern, but alas, I was wrong.” 

“I’m sure it’s just the courier or something,” Adi laughed. She kissed him again, then headed to their front door and met with Nazir. 

“Congratulations on the new place, Adranelle,” Nazir gave her a curt nod and handed her a bottle of Mead - packaged as a gift.

“Thank you, Nazir,” she took the mead and invited him in. “You do know the housewarming party isn’t until later, right?” 

“Yes, but I came early because I have… some unpleasant news.” 

“What is it?” Adi set the mead on a shelf, then turned the assassin. 

“The Night Mother informed me of a new… complicated contract.”

“One that only I can handle? What are the details.” 

“It involves you, yes,” Nazir hesitated. He wished not to ruin her day, but this was not something that could wait. “But not in the way that you think.” 

“Nazir, spit it out.”

“Someone wants you dead.” 

[hircines-hunter]

Writing Patterns/First 10 Lines Game

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern! (If you don't have 10, do as many as you have!)

Tagged by @vivifriend ! I love this a lot. But I added the first paragraph. It just gives more context and is more interesting. I’m bad at seeing patterns but if you see anything let me know lol.

There’s also a really long collection/series where the latest part just spoils a lot so, I just added the first line from the very first part!

Also, quite possibly obsessed with making LDBs. 😊

Going to tag @madamefluffnstuff @wildhexe @bostoniangirl21 and anyone else (no rush or pressure)

1. Roar of a Wolfborn - Skyrim ; LDB x Farkas

Sifkni’s feet carried her far from her home. Far from everything she’d known. Everything she loved. It didn’t matter anymore. Her heart dropped. What was she going to do now? Everyone was gone.

2. Sivaas - Skyrim ; Werewolf OC x Brynjolf

The dark skinned Bosmer wandered the market stalls in the middle of Riften’s town circle. She perused the wares at each stall, wondering where each of the items were originally procured from. Sure, she could ask where they got the items from but there was no fun in that. She brushed her orange hair behind her ear.

3. Encounters - Elder Scrolls Online ; OC x Zeira

It was a typical sunny and hot day in Abah’s Landing. Aurelia Proxima, an Imperial noble currently residing in the desert, sat in her study. She, however, was not studying. She enjoyed watching the streets below and the study had the best vantage point.

4. The Amazing Adventures and Tales of the Dovahkiin, Elja Iron-Breaker - Skyrim ; LDB x Isran

This journal belongs to Elja Iron-Breaker. If found, please burn the journal.

5. Blessings of the Moons - Skyrim ; OC x OC

Finnki wandered around the entrance of a cave that she cleared of bandits. She made sure she had finished her job before she returned home to Whiterun. The area seemed clear. No traces of living bandits. It would give peace of mind to travelers in the area. She didn’t want any stragglers to stumble about and catch her off guards. It truly seemed peaceful once more.

6. Vestige Liselle Encounters Another Prince ft. Dragons (and Mudcrabs / Just a Ruin (and mudcrab) Advocate - Elder Scrolls Online ; Vestige x Abnur Tharn

I’ve been away from home for so long. I’ve been trekking throughout Hammerfell. The climate is so vastly different from home, but it has its charms and the clothing there is actually comfortable. Breathable.

7. Shadows Preserve Us - Skyrim ; OC x Mercer Frey

Ragna leaned against the damp wood wall of the local tavern, The Bee and the Barb, flipping a coin in her hand. She kept an eye on the busy market. Some of the patrons stood out. She needed to look for someone to help. Help find a rat.

8. Frostfalls of Solstheim - Skyrim ; LDB x Miraak

Do you ever feel like something isn’t right? You do all you can to live and survive. You have a place to live and a family whether they’re blood or not. They’re still family.

But something is calling you.

You need to find ‘home’.

9. Mists of Sovngarde - LDB x Kodlak

Kaetilvi, Dragonborn, Thane of Whiterun, sat on the stairs to the Skyforge next to Jorrvaskr. The Nord woman had a long day of fighting a dragon and once she set foot in the city, to the mead hall it was to drink. And drink she did. She swayed in her seat as she hummed a song, occasionally a string of slurred lyrics would come out.

10. Saga of a Talos worshiping Shield-maiden - Blades ; OC x Henrik

I need to keep certain things about myself discreet lest this fall into the wrong hands. Especially after the war. Especially the mockery of ‘peace’ the Aldmeri Dominion is parading around. Praising. Hunting. Torturing

[qah-naarin]

!!! WIP !!! just a thief and his wife just a dovahkiin and her husband

[sinnerandafool]

Winter to Spring - My Skyrim Thieves Guild Fanfic

This is my Skyrim fanfic, based loosely on my current play through. If you are able to use mods, I highly recommend Take Notes - Journal of the Dragonborn. Writing a journal as my character definitely made me more invested in her story. 

Here is the link to the whole story on Ao3 x.

I’m a rookie fic writer, so any feedback is appreciated, but mostly I hope you enjoy it, and that it serves as a good distraction from the hellscape we live in (Americans). 

Title: Winter to Spring

Chapters: 4/?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (the MC experienced some in her past, and is experiencing sexual harassment in the first chapter.)

Rating: M (for violence, eventual sexual content)

Relationship: Brynjolf / Female Dovahkiin

Chapter 1

Aerlith woke alone, drowsily opening her eyes as the sounds of morning birds and running water filtered into her consciousness. A piney scent permeated the little fur tent. She rolled to one side, her sore muscles protesting. She closed her eyes, trying to fall back into the delicious dream she had been having. All she recalled were light touches, warm embraces, and a soft, deep voice calling her name. Well, not her name precisely. No one knew her true name, only the false one she used day to day. She sighed. For the thousandth time in her life, she cursed her past for making her a fugitive. She rolled over again, restlessly seeking sleep, but hunger nagged at her stomach, so she reluctantly got up and exited the tent.

Sitting on a boulder next to the stream babbling by, she stared up at the entrance of the ruin before her. The Twilight Sepulcher. The trials of the Pilgrim’s Path were still painfully fresh in her mind. Aerlith never liked ruins. The smell of decay, the damp darkness, and worst of all, the deafening silence, which often signaled the presence of slumbering draugr. She shuddered, recalling their evil glowing eyes and hollow flesh.

Despite her fear, Aerlith had been successful in her mission to return the Skeleton Key to its rightful place. She felt apathetic about Nocturnal, and suspected the lady of twilight felt similarly about her. Daedric princes were never concerned with the fates of their human worshippers, and to Aerlith it seemed a tad foolish to risk one’s life in exchange for unreliable favor. But no matter her skepticism, she’d completed Nocturnal’s trial, and at last reached the Ebonmere, where she returned the Skeleton Key. She didn’t do it for Nocturnal. She did it for her family.

She smiled sadly, thinking about Karliah and Gallus, saying their final goodbyes before he faded into the Evergloam. Gallus had extended his spectral hand to touch his beloved’s cheek with such tenderness and sincerity it made her heart ache. “Farewell,” Karliah had intoned softly, leaning into his intangible touch. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Her voice was even, and Aerlith couldn’t see her face, but something in her tone betrayed absolute misery at the parting.

Aerlith took the last bite of her apple and stood. She stretched, then set about packing up her camp. She was tired, yes, but she was also brimming with excitement. Nocturnal would no longer sabotage the luck of the guild, and their chances of success would increase. The wealth would marginally improve the lives of her newfound family, and she couldn’t wait to share in their happiness. And, of course, she was curious about what he would have to say.

Aerlith hired a carriage to take her from Falkreath to Riften, opting for comfort and rest in exchange for one hundred-fifty hard earned septims. But it was worth it, she thought, snuggled under a warm fur cloak and hood, watching the scenery pass by idly while the horse did all the work. Her life for the past few weeks had been constant hiking, camping and delving into dangerous ruins. She was ready for a break.

One long day and night later, the carriage creaked its way up a gentle rise, and Riften Stables came into view. Feeling lethargic and in need of exercise, Aerlith tapped the driver on the shoulder and asked him to let her off. He obliged, and urged his horse up the road without her.

She strolled languidly along the road, slowly stretching her stiff legs. The Rift was blooming. The aspens sprouted new leaves, wildflowers grew madly across the landscape, and birds were everywhere, singing their chirruping songs. Aerlith breathed in the clean spring air, intoxicated by the warmth and life of it all. After the dank Sepulcher and gloomy Falkreath hold, this was paradise.

By and by she reached the main gate of Riften, nodding to the guards in their livery, who smiled coyly at her as she passed. They knew who she was, or at least, they knew her reputation in the hold. She had been gone for a long time, and among the nosy guards there were several betting pools on whether she’d make it back alive. The guard guffawed and shook hands with his partner, who reluctantly tossed him a purse. Arielle had returned home at last, and he was rich.

Aerlith skirted the marketplace, moving quickly along the perimeter towards the keep. Though it was a warm day, she pulled her hood securely over her face, and kept her head down. Thankfully, it was a busy time in the market, so she was able to slip through without attracting much attention.

At the secret back entrance to the cistern, she nudged the button and waited for the coffin to slide back. As usual it made an unpleasantly loud grinding sound, and she wondered for the hundredth time why none of the citizens ever commented on it, or attempted to gain entry. It was another strange feature of Riften life. She still wasn’t used to the confounding apathy that permeated the city.

Below, she lifted the hatch and descended the ladder into the darkness. Though the cistern was damp and cool, warmth spread from her heart when she saw her guildmates gathered on the center dais. Everyone was here, safe, and from the looks of it listening raptly to Karliah. The dark elf stood beside Brynjolf, entertaining the small crowd with her part of the tale of the Skeleton Key’s return. Arielle approached silently to listen.

“I was working to clear some rubble when I saw the portal glow to life. I knew what must have happened, and I eagerly stepped through it and into Nocturnal’s sanctum. I just managed to catch the lady fading back into her realm, and then I saw Arielle. Her face was the perfect picture of shock. I called out to her and she looked at me as if from a hundred miles away. I swear I’ve never seen her look so bewildered.” Karliah smiled, and Brynjolf chuckled softly, looking thoughtful.

“In all fairness,” Aerlith said softly, feeling the eyes of her guildmates shift to her, “If you’d just taken a leap of faith, fallen toward your certain death, and then come face to face with a daedric prince for the first time, I imagine you’d look the same, Karliah,” she smiled, meeting her friends’ eyes.

Karliah beamed at her. “Welcome back Arielle!” She crossed the dais and pulled her into a tight hug. “Would you care to share your side of the story?”

“At the moment, all I would like is a bath and a bottle of Surilie wine,” she said, smiling. “And, to be honest, I think our lady would like to keep some of her secrets sacred.” Aerlith winked at Rune, who was staring at her with boldfaced shock.

Brynjolf stepped toward her, smiling. “Well done, lass. It’s good to see you in one piece.” He clapped her shoulder, then became more serious. “I’m not much good at things like this, but I need to thank you for all you’ve done for the guild. I’m so proud-”

“Oh, enough fluff Brynjolf,” Vex said exasperatedly. “We’re all happy. Let the poor woman have her bath in peace.”

Karliah grinned and squeezed Aerlith’s hand. “Indeed. Let’s all go to the Flagon and have a proper celebration!”

The guild all made approving noises and began to filter out, several of the members stopping to offer words of encouragement to Aerlith.

“Arielle!” exclaimed one, a handsome, burly nord with striking warpaint beneath his eyes. “I’m so glad you returned safely. ” He took her hand and kissed it, never breaking eye contact. “My sword and bow are always at the ready for you. You need not fear any foe with me by your side.”

“Hello Thrynn,” Aerith said tiredly. “Pleasure as always.” She pulled her hand away. “But I really would like to go relax now. It was a long journey from Falkreath. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped closer, a mischievous smile on his face. “Perhaps you’d like some company in the bath, little dove,” he growled softly, his voice like the ragged edge of an old battleaxe.  She could feel his breath on her ear. A chill ran down her neck, goosebumps rising.

“No,” she said firmly, “Thank you.” She pulled away from him, and strode, head held high across the cistern to the entrance of the baths.

Thrynn admired her retreating figure until it vanished into darkness. He turned to go to the Flagon, but was stopped short in his tracks by Brynjolf, who leaned against a wall by the door, face wreathed in shadow. Thrynn scowled. “What are you doing skulking around like that, Brynjolf? Out of the way.” He tried to push past, but Brynjolf stopped him.

“When will you give it up, Thrynn?”

“Give what up?”

“Arielle. I don’t know how many times you need to be rejected for the message to come across loud and clear,” Brynjolf stood up, taking a step closer.

Thrynn laughed heartily at the threat. “You know nothing of women if you thought that was rejection,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “Women always play hard to get.” He smiled lasciviously then continued, “That’s what makes Arielle so irresistibly delicious.”

Brynjolf’s mouth set into a grim line. “Don’t talk about her that way. She’s not a blushing lady for you to seduce. She is your sister in arms,” he said forcefully.

The bandit chuckled. “Not like you to be so hypocritical, Brynjolf. You hold your subordinates to a higher standard than yourself.”

“Not sure what you are implying, but I advise you to choose your next words very carefully.” Brynjolf’s green eyes hardened, the anger in them sharper than the finest glass dagger.

Thrynn swallowed. “Everyone knows about you and the fence,” he said boldly.

“Oh yes?” Brynjolf smiled darkly at Thrynn, and the bandit wondered for a moment if he should be ready to brawl. “Get out of my sight,” the second in command spat at him.

Relieved, Thrynn pushed past his superior and rushed through the door to the Flagon. Brynjolf frowned, his brow furrowed, and stared off into the darkness where Arielle had been a moment before.

Aerlith had never been so happy to sink into a hot bath. She wasted no time, quickly shimmying out of her light armor, leaving it in a heap on the floor. She lowered herself indulgently into the water. The grime from the Sepulcher, the dust from the road, and the cold of Skyrim that permeated her bones gave way to the warmth of the water. She glowed with happy contentment. She was home among her friends again. The faces of Karliah, Vex, Brynjolf and Delvin brought such joy to her. After her lonely sojourn through Skyrim, she had everything she needed. And Brynjolf was proud of her. His warm green eyes and welcome smile made her glow even brighter. She grabbed up her soap and began to wash, smiling to herself.

Her mind wandered unbidden back to Thrynn. The former bandit was friendly enough, though difficult to trust at the best of times. But his constant flirting was beginning to be more than just a minor annoyance. She’d failed to reject him firmly enough the first time, and he had been ignoring her subsequent tries with horrifyingly admirable gumption.

When Aerlith first joined the guild, Thrynn, along with practically every other man with eyes had been quite open about their interest in her. At first she had blushed furiously red when they complimented her, or touched her. She would always freeze in place and clam up, her mind unable to form thoughts, her mouth unable to speak. Her innocent reaction made them laugh, at which point they would ruffle her hair and leave her to go about their business. Aerlith began spending more time with Vex, observing how her friend would openly laugh at the men accosting her, and she learned how to handle unwanted advances with more confidence. As she rejected the men, one by one they moved on. It was better this way. She hoped their interest stemmed merely from her novelty, and not from any other motives.

Thrynn was not as easy to deal with. He pushed past her discouragement, whether it was polite or harsh. He continued to harass her, to touch her, to whisper vile things in her ear that made her blush. She felt beat down by his constant disregard for her wish to be left alone, and had resolved to just ignore him when she could. It reminded her a little too much of the way Jarl Siddgeir’s sneering, lecherous expression, when he cornered her in the darkened servant’s quarters all those months ago. She shuddered at the memory. She could still feel his body weight pressing her into the wall, the hard length of his arousal grinding into her angrily. Something died within her that night. She had no skills, no strength, and no way out. Her silver eyes hardened. Things had changed. If she ever met Siddgeir again, she would have her revenge.

Aerlith soaped her long, pale blonde hair, gently teasing out the tangles. She never felt more powerful, more able to protect herself at this moment. The frightened and helpless girl she once was had grown into a dangerous woman. Her mediocre skills with a dagger, which had been scoffed at by Vilkas of Jorrvaskr, had improved under Brynjolf’s friendly tutelage. Thanks to him, and to the other members of the guild who shared their expertise, Aerlith was silent, fast, and deadly.

Feeling clean and refreshed, Aerlith allowed herself a moment to wallow in the hot water. There was one man in the guild who was ostensibly uninterested in her: Brynjolf. His attentions to her were friendly, but professional. He patiently taught her the tools of a thief’s trade, gently correcting her when she needed it. She was grateful that he did not ridicule her inexperience. He offered his advice after giving her a job, and usually ended by staring her down with his shiny green eyes as he said, “And be careful, lass.”

When she returned successful and pocket jingling with coin, he would clap her on the back or shoulder, offering her encouragement and smiles that she hoped contained pride. She was his protege, after all. Thanks to Brynjolf, Aerlith had a safe place to sleep, and a well paying job that allowed her to keep a low profile. She was more than grateful to him, and their relationship was more than a simple friendship. But whether her feelings for him were platonic was a question she desperately tried to avoid. She knew he didn’t see her as anything more than a pupil.

However, Aerlith occasionally caught him staring at her from across rooms, his eyes serious as he contemplated her. It seemed unfair to her that she couldn’t decipher the meaning behind this. It was all too easy to imagine that he felt something for her too. On the night they met, Brynjolf flirted with her shamelessly, and though she knew now that his attention had been false, simply a means to an end, her attraction and interest in him that night was real.

Another memory fought its way to the surface. The guild threw a large celebration when the three Nightingales returned successful, Mercer dead and Karliah safely home again with her honor restored. That night, Aerlith begged off an arm wrestling match with Vex, opting to take a cup of wine to a quiet table on the outer ring of the din. There she sat and watched the merriment, laughing as Vekel hit on Tonilia and she slapped him forcefully for his impertinence, nearly knocking the slight man down. Tonilia huffed away, going to sit across from Brynjolf at his table. As Aerlith’s eyes followed the woman in amusement, they lit upon Brynjolf and stuck there. He was watching her again. She looked back at him, surprised. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face. The shadows made it too difficult to see, but the glint in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

She didn’t look away. Neither did he. Aerlith felt heat beginning to rise in her cheeks, but she was transfixed. His green eyes shone at her as he leaned forward into the candlelight, resting his chin on his hand. The light revealed his faintly amused smile, which she returned hesitantly. But then, Tonilia said something to him and he looked away, the tension released. Aerlith felt let down. The rumors of Brynjolf and Tonilia’s romantic involvement may not have been true, but to Aerlith it seemed they shared a closer relationship than was usual. It pricked her to see him smile so easily and openly with Tonilia, joking raunchily and teasing her. With Aerlith, Brynjolf acted as the wise teacher, the helpful mentor. Her gratitude prevented her from feeling resentment, but her disappointment could not be helped.

Aerlith finished scrubbing her hair and rose from the bath. She toweled herself quickly and dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, pulling on her stockings and boots. She didn’t bother to arrange her hair or apply any cosmetics. Fatigue wore on her, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the giddy depths of a bottle.

She entered the tavern a few minutes later. Karliah, sitting with Vex and Delvin, saw her come in and motioned for her to join them. Aerlith smiled and went over.

“Here you are, yer ladyship,” Delvin said gruffly, pouring her a cup of her favorite Surilie vintage. “Only the best for the woman of the hour.”

Aerlith sat down and picked up the cup. Seized by a sudden emotion, she raised it and said, “To the guild! May it last another thousand years.” The others raised their flagons as well, adding their “Hear, hear”s and “To the guild!”s. Aerlith drank deeply, draining half her cup in one go. She wasn’t planning on drinking lightly.

“So,” Vex said, “Care to tell us more about your exploits, Arielle? Delvin is practically foaming at the mouth with curiosity.” She smiled wickedly at him, and he smacked her hand.

Aerlith laughed. She had missed the banter of her friends during her long journey alone. She drank again, considering. Vex was still looking at her curiously, so she said, “Not much to tell I’m afraid, Vex.”

Vex scowled. “You Nightingales and your secrets,” she muttered darkly. But she brightened up quickly when she spotted something over Aerlith’s shoulder. “Watch out,” she said, smiling sneakily at Aerlith and rising from the table. “Delvin, Karliah, come here. I want to show you something.” Vex beckoned them across the room, leaving Aerlith alone with her wine.

Puzzled, Aerlith drained the rest of her cup, and reached for the bottle to pour another. A larger, rougher hand covered hers and tightened it against the glass bottleneck.

“Thirsty tonight, eh little dove?” Thrynn’s rough voice whispered in her ear. Aerlith pulled her hand away, and watched as Thrynn poured her wine, filling her cup nearly to the brim. He moved and sat down in the chair next to hers, resting his head on one hand lazily. “I can think of many more delicious ways to quench your thirst.” He licked his lips, the suggestion obvious.

Aerlith rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your input Thrynn.”

He chuckled. “So cold. Any other man would think you hated him.”

“Then why don’t you take the hint?” Aerlith asked sharply.

Thrynn leaned back in his chair and regarded her. She felt his eyes roaming over her face and body. “I want you to sing for me, little dove,” he crooned, taking her hand in his. “I’ve the skilled hands of a thief and the strength of a barbarian...care to take a ride?”

Aerlith yanked her hand away, standing unsteadily and staring down at him. She swallowed her nerves and said, “I am not your little dove , Thrynn. I am a Nightingale, an agent of Nocturnal. And believe me,” she said, her words pure venomous threat, “I am more than capable of making you sing for me.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger, staring at him pointedly.

Thrynn stood and pulled her to him, his hands tight on her waist. His eyes burned with desire. “That’s the fire I love about you,” he said roughly. Before she could react, he pressed his mouth hungrily to hers.

Panic took hold of her, and she tried to wrench away, but he was too strong for her. Desperately, she fumbled for her dagger, drew it, and stabbed it mercilessly into his thigh. Thrynn howled and released her. Aerlith pulled her dagger back and brandished it, sinking into her fighting stance.

“Little bitch,” Thrynn spat. He reached for his battle axe.

“Enough,” Delvin said, stepping between Aerlith and Thrynn. “Calm down the lot of you.” He looked over his shoulder at Aerlith. “All right?” She nodded. “Good. Now, get yer hackles down Thrynn, before I gut you like a fish.”

Thrynn looked from her and back to Delvin. The tavern had gone quiet. Aerlith did not turn around, but from Thrynn’s mild panic, she could tell the thieves were watching the scene with little love for the bandit. “Fuck you,” Thrynn spat at Delvin, and turned to leave the Flagon from the front entrance. The door slammed behind him.

Aerlith breathed out, slow and steady. She grabbed a linen from the table and wiped her dagger on it, sliding it back into the sheathe. Karliah appeared at her shoulder. “Are you alright, Arielle?” she said with concern.

“Fine,” Aerlith said, anger still coursing through her. “That bastard deserved it.”

“He did indeed,” Karliah said, a smile curling her lips. Around them, the thieves returned to their drinks, and conversation began to buzz again.

“I need a drink,” Aerlith said, beginning to relax again.

“It’s on me,” Karliah laughed and headed to the bar to procure another bottle.

Aerlith sat with Karliah, watching her guildmates fraternize and drink. Delvin brought out his lute, and Dirge his drum, and the two began playing a lively tune. Tonilia got up and started to dance, her lithe body and agile feet drawing the eyes of every man in the room. Aerlith’s eyes drifted to the bar, where she saw Brynjolf sitting the wrong way round on his stool, leaning back on the bar as he watched Tonilia dance, smiling and occasionally sipping his drink.

He is so handsome , Aerlith mused. Brynjolf had shiny long hair the color of garnet, which set off the color of his deep set green eyes. But it wasn’t his appearance as much as his personality that made him stand out. He had a habit of catching her off guard with a sly look in his eyes, saying her name with his lilting accent, catching her in a daydream when she was supposed to be learning lockpicking. She would snap out of her trance and meet his eyes, and get lost again for a moment before smiling apologetically and telling him to continue with his teaching.

All the lifesaving lessons he taught were sorely needed. After her family went missing, she arrived in Skyrim and became a ward of the old Jarl of Falkreath, the suspicious and feeble Dengeir. Her mother had a cousin who worked in the longhouse, so Aerlith was allowed to live there in return for working in the kitchen and cleaning up after the Jarl’s family. She didn’t hate it there, but when Dengeir’s nephew Siddgeir assumed the throne, the trouble began. Siddgeir took an unhealthy interest in his ward, resulting in the terrifying night he had confronted her in her room. Worse, once he had his fun, he threw Aerlith cruelly out into the street, claiming that she was a liability he couldn’t afford any longer. He may very well have been correct, but without his protection, Aerlith was a sitting duck.

The day two strangers came through Falkreath asking after a pale haired girl with silver eyes, she fled with her few possessions and never looked back. Aerlith didn’t adjust well to life on the run. She arrived in Riverwood hungry, filthy and tired, and nearly collapsed on the porch of the inn. She had enough money to pay her way, but being a weak young lady with riches and no protection, she soon lost half her purse to a sneak thief in the night. Desperate, she moved on from Riverwood to Whiterun, with shallow hope that she would find sanctuary at the Temple of Kynareth.

Lost in reverie, she realized she was still staring at Brynjolf. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so she turned back to her bottle, attempting to drown out her thoughts with the intoxicating liquid. Karliah regarded her, sipping from her own cup. “Something on your mind, friend?”

“That business with Thrynn took me back to a different time,” she said, her face hard. “I haven’t always been as good with a blade.” Aerlith wanted to unburden herself and share her troubles with Karliah, but she couldn’t risk it. From Falkreath to Riften, she was hunted by various heavily armed strangers. She suspected they were the same men who took her parents away, come to finish the job. Telling her story to anyone was foolish and could possibly bring harm to them.

Karliah smiled sadly. “Being a woman in Skyrim is tough. But you are strong and worth their respect,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the gathered guild. “It is good that you remind them now and then.”

Aerlith grinned. Though Karliah knew nothing of her past, Aerlith always felt that her friend understood her perfectly. It was a comfort beyond measure. “At least I have you, my friend. I couldn’t ask for a better sister in darkness.”

The dark elf laughed and patted her hand. “I’m off to bed,” she said, standing. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Aerlith nodded at the familiar send off.

“Good night.”

Some time later, when the music had ceased and most guild members had stumbled off to bed, Aerlith tipped the bottle into her cup once more, only to be disappointed when nothing poured out. She sighed and leaned over the table, contemplating throwing in the towel and going to bed. Questing in the interest of the guild was great and noble, but it definitely didn’t make her rich. She tiredly imagined how many jobs she would have to take on before she made up for all the traveling expenses.

While she was lost in thought, Brynjolf came over silently and plunked a full bottle of wine on her table, making her jump a bit. “You shouldn’t have an empty cup, lass,” He said, looking down at her with playful eyes and a warm smile.

Aerlith nodded her approval and reached for the bottle. She noted that Brynjolf also looked pretty deep in his cups. His cheeks were reddened and his eyes were extra shiny.

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking a sip and offering him the bottle when he sat opposite her. He poured out a cup for himself, then looked at her for a moment.

“I never got to thank you properly earlier,” he said.

Her heart swelled, but she kept her voice even as she said, “I got all the thanks necessary from Lady Nocturnal herself.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” he laughed. “But truly, without your help, the guild would still be under the thumb of Mercer and suffering from a daedra’s displeasure.” He looked at her seriously, and she felt herself beginning to blush. “I’m very glad I chose to scam you of all the people in the city that day,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Aerlith took a swig of wine to cool herself. Feeling vulnerable, she spoke quietly, “If you hadn’t tried to rob me, I never would have joined the guild, and would have wandered alone forever.” She chanced a look up at him. “All the skills you’ve taught me have saved my life countless times already. Performing this task for the guild was nothing in comparison to what I’ve received.” Saying it felt right, but Aerlith thought Brynjolf would laugh at her sincerity as he usually did.

He surprised her by reaching across the table and grasping her hand tightly in his. His grip was warm, his calloused fingers rough as they held hers fast. “Don’t be silly. You’ve accomplished something great, and I’m proud of you, Arielle.” He stared intensely into her eyes, burning her with the heat of his conviction.

She pulled her hand back and took another long drink from her cup. She grinned at him. “It’s a strange thing, hearing a thief speak so earnestly,” she joked, trying to dispel the tension she felt.

“As I said, I’m not one for sincerity. Enjoy it while it lasts, lass.” She relaxed a bit, knowing that the hard part was over. “Now, about that bandit,” he said, looking at her smugly.

“What about him?” She asked, twisting the silver ring on her right hand repetitively. Maybe the ‘hard part’ would never really be over with Bryn.

“I enjoy seeing Thrynn being put in his place. Well done indeed, Arielle,” he replied, a sly smile playing over his lips.

Oh. He saw that . Shame burned a blush in her cheeks. She didn’t like to imagine what Brynjolf must have thought, seeing her with him. The memory of Thrynn’s hands on her felt dirty. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said, looking down. “I did what had to be done.”

“And did it well,” he said gently. Aerlith raised her eyes to his. Brynjolf smiled. “Chin up, lass. That bastard couldn’t best you if he trained for a hundred years.”

A poignant feeling of relief and sadness stung her. Aerlith fought back tears, disguising her pain by gulping deeply from her cup. She wanted to say something, but her thoughts were scattered. Her mind’s eye kept flashing to Thrynn’s face, his mouth stealing hers, his hands gripping her painfully. Siddgeir slid into her thoughts too, clouding her vision with fear and shame. She breathed out shakily, carefully training her gaze into her cup.

“Arielle? Are you alright?” His chair scraped the floor as he stood, coming up close beside her. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

Finally, she looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she said, voice breaking. She felt tears begin to fall and blushed, looking down again. Brynjolf knelt down and leveled with her gaze.

Tentatively, his eyes searching hers, he reached up and touched her cheek. His thumb brushed a tear away, and she inhaled shakily, unsure of how to react to his touch. “It’s all right, lass. Whatever the trouble is, we can make it right,” he said slowly.

“I can’t shake them, Brynjolf,” she said, trying to speak through the sob choking her. “No matter where I go.” She hung her head again, resting it in his palm. “I will never be free from my past,” she concluded, and despair overwhelmed her. She cried softly in front of him, hating herself and hating her weakness. But she was tired, so very tired, and his kindness had opened a floodgate within her.

For a horrible moment, Brynjolf stayed very still, and she dreaded his reaction. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took her hands in his and pulled her to him, carefully encircling her in a gentle embrace. “All right, Arielle. It’s all right,” he whispered. He stroked her hair, letting her ride out the sadness. Finally, her crying quieted into sniffles, and she felt him pull her tighter to him “That’s it, lass.” He pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

Aerlith tried to calm her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut as visions of the past threatened to take her over again. With her head pressed against his chest, Aerlith could hear Brynjolf’s heartbeat. The steady rhythm pulled her focus back to the present. Gradually, she felt herself coming down to earth as her breathing slowed and her thoughts cleared.

Reality rushed back in like frigid water, a cruel reminder of who she was, who he was, and where they were. Aerlith pulled away from Brynjolf quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head. “I should go.” She nodded to him and tried to make a hasty exit.

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed her arm. Aerlith didn’t look at him. She couldn't. “I’m worried about you, Arielle. Can’t I help you?” The worried kindness in his voice almost made her break again.

Aerlith steeled herself. Turning to her mentor and smiling brightly, she said, “Nothing’s much wrong, Bryn.” His brow furrowed as he watched her skeptically. “I’m just very, very tired, and I think I’ve had too much wine. I’m sorry to make a scene.”

“Alright, lass, if that’s really how you feel.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then pulled her into him again, wrapping her in his arms tightly. He held her silently for a long moment. Aerlith listened to his heartbeat again, wishing she could hear it forever. I broke so easily for him , she thought, squeezing her eyes closed. Wrapped up in his warmth, she realized that for the first time in a very long time, she felt totally safe. Safe enough that the iron doors of her resolve cracked open, revealing the vulnerability and fear within. The revelation scared her, but she didn’t pull away this time. She breathed him in. His scent was leather, wine, smoke, and just a hint of sweat. Eyes closed, she let him lull her into a state of serenity.

Finally, he held her out at arms length. “Get some rest then,” he said, smiling gently. Before she could move, he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, lingering there. Aerlith's eyes widened in surprise. So many invisible lines had been crossed tonight, but what truly surprised her was how right it all felt. Brynjolf took a deep breath and pulled away, blowing it out slowly as he stared at her. The look in his eyes confounded her. It was a cross between tenderness and fiery determination, with a touch of  heated aggression that made her breath catch in her chest.

Aerlith smiled. “Thank you, Bryn,” she whispered. He nodded, his eyes still burning with that mysterious energy. “Good night, then.” Aerlith walked off to bed, praying to the divines that it hadn’t been a dream.

[once-upon-a-plot-twist]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Brynjolf/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf & Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Female Breton Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Breton Dovahkiin | Dragonborn Characters: Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls), Vex (Elder Scrolls), Mercer Frey, Delvin Mallory, Ulfric Stormcloak, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Female Breton Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Arngeir (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Slow Romance, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Developing Friendships Summary:

This is the untold story of the Last Dragonborn. What went on behind the scenes of her legendary story. She is more than her title. More than just a hero. Her name was Krosa Fallon and this is the true story of her life, those she loved, and the legacy she left behind.

There is nothing too graphic or explicit in here, just some light language, suggestive/adult themes, and violence. Main character suffers from PTSD and there will be some scenes with episodes.

[dovahkinniez]

🦇 — BRYNJOLF.

COMING SOON . . .

[riinariinart]

[daedriclorde]

Last Line Tag

Thanks @maraleestuff!!

Since I’m re-structuring my outline, I haven’t really been writing new lines, I’m trying to fix the bones first. But! I will share the last line I *like* from my first draft!

Brynjolf raised a brow at her confidence and smiled. “Bersi Honey-Hand, Keerava, and Haelga. If you can do this, and do it right, I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.”

“Promise, eh? I’ll have to hold you to that, I take promises very seriously.” Aerisif grinned playfully at him.

Brynjolf didn’t blink. Aerisif felt a wave of heat pass through her as he leaned in closer to her. “I always keep my promises, lass.” He lingered there for a moment, his eyes locked on hers. For a moment, the rest of the Ragged Flagon faded away.

Enjoy a little flirtation!

OPEN TAG SHOW ME YOUR WRITING!

[ladydaedra]

Whiterun

Part: 10/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC; Ondolemar x OC

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of 'Game of Thrones' feeling; may contain controversial themes.

Wordcount: 2009

~~~~~

"This is it, men! " Galmar yells at the Stormcloak soldiers as Whiterun is bombarded with trebuchet attacks, "They say that our cause is false and that we are nothing more than thieves, thugs, and murderers! But no! We are farmers! We are craftsmen! We are sons and daughters of shopkeepers, maidservants and soldiers! We are the sons and daughters of Skyrim!" Ayla looks back at the large army from where she stands on a rock, observing the city. Her own army stands amongst the Stormcloaks and they too cheer at Galmar's speech.

"And we have come this far because our cause is true. Because we fight as one. And because our hearts are bursting with anger!" Galmar continues, his voice loud and strong, "What we do here today, we do for our country! For all the true Nords of Skyrim!" both armies cheer at his words and Ayla tightens her grip on her bow, an arrow knocked with the tip on fire as a way to signal Aaryah when to attack.

"Whiterun's walls are tall, but they are old and crumbling, like the Empire whose Legion lines them," Galmar informs the armies, glancing over at the city before looking back at the soldiers, "They've barricades to block us, but we'll tear through them and the Imperials behind them! Our objective is the drawbridge. If we can find a way to drop it, the city will be ours! Everyone on me. Let's show these Imperial milk drinkers what true Nords look like!"

Ayla hears the armies give a battle cry as they charge towards the city. She watches as the Imperials fire arrows on the advancing soldiers, their focus on what is on the ground but not what is in the sky. Ayla raises her bow and pulls the string back as a gust of wind blows. She aims for the broken tower behind the Imperial's barricades and fires.

The arrow whistles as it flies through the air but Ayla soon loses it and assumes it hit correctly as a dragon descends from the sky, landing on the tower and lighting a few Imperials on fire. With a smile, Ayla jumps off the rock and hurries around the walls and climbs the walls behind the barricade. She lands behind an Imperial, whose arrow is aimed at Galmar, and slits his throat. He spasms as he grasps at his open throat before falling to the floor, dead within a few seconds.

"Odahviing,"

"It's the Dragonborn!" an Imperial yells, alerting the rest of his comrades, "she's with the Stormcloaks," he adds and draws his sword, hesitating to attack her. An arrow takes him down and that is when the Imperials break out of their shock and charge at her. She sidesteps the first attack and sends one of her swords into the chest of another. She pulls the blade out just in time to block an attack as she slices the throat of another soldier with her second sword.

"Fus Ro Dah!" she Shouts when a large cluster of Imperials charge at her, sending them flying into walls or over them while some soldiers are lucky to just slide across the ground. She barely misses being hit by an arrow as she runs over towards the raised drawbridge. She quickly runs into the tower and fights her way to the top and onto the bridge where the drawbridge controls are.

She lowers the drawbridge and turns around in time to see Odahviing land and set an entire group of the opposing side, both Imperial and Whiterun city guards, on fire before flying off again, this time over the walls and into the city. Ayla hurries down the ladder and into the city, where most of their enemies have been defeated thanks to the dragons.

"Hurry! To Dragonsreach!" Galmar yells as he runs past her, several Stormcloak soldiers following him. Ayla turns to see some of her soldiers there.

"Go through the city, kill any attacker you face," she orders them as she takes a few steps in the direction of the market, "help any and all civilians injured because of the fighting and protect them with your lives," she adds before turning and running towards Dragonsreach. She hears one of the dragons set something on fire nearby but she doesn't look to see who.

Instead, she cuts down any enemy on her way to Dragonsreach, stopping only when she sees Athena and Vilkas in front of Jorrvaskr, "what's wrong?" she asks the female, who smiles.

"Nothing," she replies, "just making sure the rest of the Companions are safe. We'll be back in the fight soon," she promises and Ayla nods her head.

"Odah and Aaryah did most of the fighting inside the city for us," she explains before glancing over her shoulder at the deserted streets of Whiterun, littered with Imperial and Guard bodies. What a waste of life, she thinks before turning back to her friend, "go through the city and find and aid any civilians," she adds and runs off before Athena can reply.

Ayla runs up the steps and is soon standing in front of the door. She places her hand on the wood and sighs, remembering when she first entered the hall so long ago and how welcoming Balgruuf was. Now she is here, attacking his city. She can only imagine what will happen when she enters the hall.

"Enough, I surrender!" she hears Balgruff yell from above the stairs, "I surrender. Peace! Everyone stand down," Ayla walks up the steps and stops at the top, seeing Galmar and a few Stormcloak soldiers standing between her and Balgruuf, "that's an order! Stand down,"

Ayla looks over to see an elderly man walk past her and stand next to Galmar. She walks forward a few steps but stays in the background, "Vignar Grey-Mane," Balgruuf says with an irritated tone, "your family was noticeably absent from the walls. Now I know why. Wouldn't a dagger in the back have sufficed?"

"You think this is personal?" Vignar asks, anger in his tone as he puts his hands on his hips, "the Empire has no place in Skyrim...not anymore. And you?" Vignar pauses for effect, "you have no place in Whiterun anymore," Ayla stares at the old man's back, raising an eyebrow at the man's gloating tone.

"A convenient position to hold now. But mark my word's old man, in the days to come, Ulfric will spread his rebellion thin. And what then?" Balgruuf asks the group, his arms crossed across his chest as he glares at them.

Galmar chuckles, "you couldn't have possibly seen the attacking dragons while locked in here," he says as he steps aside, revealing Ayla to the former Jarl, "let this answer your question," Galmar adds and Ayla slowly looks at Balgruuf to see him shaking his head in disappointment.

"You too?" he asks her and Ayla looks away, unable to handle his words, "you, Thane of Whiterun, attacked this city for what? For glory? Money?"

"I did it for Skyrim," she snaps angrily, turning to face his wrath head-on. She can feel her voice start to waver but she stays strong. Balgruuf stares at her for a few seconds before scoffing at her words.

"That's what they all say,"

"I didn't do it to destroy the Empire, I am doing this to end the Thalmor, who are my true enemies," Ayla says firmly, taking a few steps towards him and keeping her head held high, "believe me I wish it wouldn't end this way but it must. The Thalmor's claim on this land will be destroyed, even if I must die to do so,"

She watches in silence as Balgruuf processes her words, his eyes burning holes in her skin. Ayla purses her lips to keep her emotions from showing, "Why should I trust a woman who betrayed my trust," he says with no emotion before looking away from her.

Ayla scoffs, shaking her head and sighing, "you will be going to my base as a prisoner of war," she informs the Jarl, who whips his head to stare at her, "my soldiers will transport you under lock and key and bound by chains. Your children will be staying at my base, taken in by a family where they will be taught manners,"

"You can't!" Balgruuf says in disbelief, "they're my children, they need their father!" Ayla almost caved but she clears her throat and meets his gaze with a cold one of her own.

"You should have thought about that before you sided with the Empire," she says before turning and leaving the building, passing a large group of her soldiers as she goes. Once the door shuts she hurried off to behind the palace, where she recollects herself.

She leans against the stone walls of the city, eyes closed and biting her lip to keep herself from breaking down in sobs. She just destroyed a family and betrayed one of the few people she trusted with her life. She feels disgusted with herself. As someone who knows what it is like to grow up without any parents, she shouldn't be the one to do that to other kids.

War is a nasty thing and she can't imagine that ruling a country will be any different. She wipes her eyes, which had shed a few tears, before returning to her soldiers.

~~

"You'll regret this, Dragonborn," Irileth snarls at Ayla as she is led past, her red eyes glaring at her. Ayla looks away from the Dunmer woman, refusing to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her reaction.

"I brought you into my home. I made you my Thane. I trusted you," Balgruuf seethes as he stops in front of Ayla. She looks up at him with an emotionless gaze. She wasn't going to break. She wasn't. She refused to, "and you repay me by burning my town,"

Something shifts behind Ayla and she glances over her shoulder to see Odahviing there, his red eyes locked on the Jarl as a growl emits from his throat, "with the dragon I helped you trap, no less," Balgruuf adds and Ayla turns to look back at him, "the dragon I risked my city to trap," he continues and Ayla raises an eyebrow.

"Guilt tripping me won't work, Balgruuf, you know that," she reminds him as she crosses her arms, "believe me when I say that I wish things turned out differently, I really do. But you chose your side and I can't make you change your mind,"

Balgruuf stares down at her in silence for a few seconds, studying her features before scoffing, "you're right, you can't," he agrees, "but tell me where my children will be going since they're practically orphans now,"

"You're not dying, Balgruuf," Ayla explains as Odahviing huffs behind her, "Ulfric wanted to, but I convinced him to spare you and your family as a repayment for how much you helped me in the past," she pauses as she watches Balgruuf's children follow her soldiers out of Whiterun, "as I told you before, your children will be taken in by a family at my base where they will work in the farms, not as slaves, but as free children, able to run and play to their hearts content,"

Balgruuf remains silent, watching his young son and daughter leave their home, "I suppose I must thank you for not throwing them into a cell," he mutters begrudgingly as he looks back at the Dragonborn, his anger calming, "and I wish you luck in your attempt to rid Skyrim of the elves without the Empire's help," he adds before he is led away again.

"Things are going to get worse," she says softly and Odah hums in response.

"Do you think you did the right thing?"

Ayla shrugs, taking a deep breath, "we shall see in the months to come," she replies as she looks over at the red-scaled dragon, "tonight has changed the course of this war, for better or for worse,"

[eeveevie]

From this prompt list. This is some cute AF shit right here 👌

Brynjolf x Fiona 

861 words | [read on Ao3]

Winterhold was no place for a man like Brynjolf to be, even if he was a Nord. He never understood why anybody lived in such a desolate, frozen city—especially one that had been plagued by such tragedy, such as the Great Collapse. The Sea of Ghosts was not a body of water he wanted to take up residence near for any period of time. The only reason why Brynjolf found himself in the city was because Fiona requested his company on the journey, and he wasn’t about to pass the opportunity to travel with her—especially considering what occurred the last time she traveled this far North.

At first, he believed she had business with the Mages’ College, but Fiona quickly dismissed the assumption, reminding him she wasn’t blessed with any magical talent. Instead, their trip was of a personal nature, returning to the snowy lands to visit with Enthir and pass along a few of Gallus’ belongings, handed down by Karliah. Brynjolf had to wonder why they didn’t just invite the sorcerer to the warmer climate of Riften instead.

Upon the pair’s arrival in Winterhold, Enthir was eager about whisking Fiona off for a tour of the College grounds—something Brynjolf had little to no interest in. So he moseyed about the town, secured their room at the tavern, perused the local shop and stared off into the seemingly never-ending ocean before pacing along the snow-covered cobblestone streets. Admittedly, he was likely staring off into space, counting the number of pine-needles on the nearby tree when a tiny voice echoed nearby.

“Mister, will you help me?”

Brynjolf was momentarily alarmed to find himself propositioned by a small child, wondering for a moment if he was about to be scammed before pushing the thought away. He wasn’t in Riften, or in Windhelm for that matter—he didn’t have to be so skeptical. The little girl was holding a pile of snow in her hands and when he looked past her, a few more children were running through the empty pathway, hurling chunks of snow at one another.

He grinned, catching on immediately. “Ah, need help with a snowball, lass?”

She nodded enthusiastically, holding out her hands to him as he crouched down to her level. Instead, he scooped up some fresh snow from the ground, packing it tight into his gloved hands, rounding it into a compact shape. When he passed it off to the girl, she was delighted. Brynjolf began work on a second snowball.

“Why don’t we team up, eh?”

The energetic girl ran ahead, chucking her snow at her friends excitedly. The two boys were confused at first, but when they saw Brynjolf they were immediately thrilled to have a grown-up to help with their afternoon of fun. And since he didn’t have much to do in the small town while he waited for Fiona, he was happy to join. Rushing about the streets almost made him forget how cold it was, tossing piles of snow and relishing in the sounds of children’s laughter—it wasn’t an activity he’d ever find himself part of back home. He was hit in the chest and he dramatically fell to his knees, pretending to be wounded.

“Oh! You got me!”

The little boy pointed over his shoulder. “More enemies!”

Without thinking, perhaps too caught up in the moment, Brynjolf tossed the snowball that was in his hand over his shoulder. When he turned to look at who was approaching, it wasn’t another child—no, it was Enthir and Fiona—her face covered in powdered snow.

“Brynjolf?!” she shrieked, but if he expected her to be upset, he was pleasantly surprised by the grin that overtook her features. Perhaps she still had a few surprises for him, after all.

He offered a little, inconspicuous shrug. “Aye, lass. It’s me.”

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” she responded wickedly, marching through the snow a few paces before dashing over to chase after him.

He jolted up from his spot quickly, sprinting past the children as they all echoed out their amusement as Fiona ran after him, arms outstretched in dramatic fashion. Little did they know she could very well tackle him to the spot, shout and bend him to her will if she really wanted. Eventually, he allowed her to catch him, laughing as she wrestled him to the soft, snowy ground. At first, he was pleased at the notion of having her atop him, but soon enough his mind registered that this was about revenge, but it was too late. Fiona swept up a pile of snow and with her free hand she tugged on the collar of his jacket and shirt before slipping the cold powder down. Brynjolf squirmed along the ground beneath her, but despite it all could only chuckle.

“Oh, you wicked, wicked woman,” he chastised. Fiona leaned closer, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. A small bit of warmth that didn’t spread nearly far enough, given his current state.

“Don’t worry Bryn,” she assured. “There’s a bath inside the tavern’s basement. If you ask nicely, I might be inclined to let you join me.”

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 27 - Twilight Sepulcher

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild’s reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1, 196

A/N: Happy first night of Hanukkah if anyone else celebrates it :) I wanted to get through the Twilight Sepulcher in one chapter, but it ended up being a "two-part" so we'll see the return of the key next chapter. Hope you enjoy this one!

The weight of the key grew with each step in their journey to the Twilight Sepulcher. Brynjolf had offered to carry it for Adi, but the Dragonborn refused. She had it in her head that if anyone else were to take hold of the artifact, it wouldn’t get back to Nocturnal. She didn’t expect how much of a burden it would be. 

Day and night, it would whisper to her, entice her into using it. The key’s magic would invade her dreams, giving her images of the ideal life. All the riches she could ever imagine, all the power, and the ability to expose Maven Black-Briar without even trying.

It would be wrong to assume she wasn’t tempted. It knew how to find her deepest desire and show how it could make it happen. All the power she could have… she could be more powerful than- 

“Lass, we’re here,” Brynjolf halted Shadowmere. 

“Hm?” Adi snapped out of her thoughts, looking at her surroundings. Brynjolf had taken the reins more than halfway through their journey after noticing Adi’s lack of focus. The key was messing with her mind, and he wanted her to be as safe as possible as they travelled to the Sepulcher. 

Now that they were there, Brynjolf took the key from Adi’s possession and let her dismiss Shadowmere with the weight off her shoulders. “I’ll keep it with me for the rest of the journey, lass. We need you to have a clear mind.” 

Adi nodded and faced Karliah, who had tailed them. “I don't understand why you won't come with us.” 

“I've been a Nightingale for a very long time.” She said. “I sold my allegiance to Nocturnal in exchange for many profitable years of thieving. Falling in love with Gallus was wrong. It was a distraction that allowed the Sepulcher to be desecrated, and it likely cost him his life. Until the Key is returned, I will never set foot inside that place again.”

“Tell us about the conduit inside the Sepulcher.” Brynjolf requested. 

“The conduit to Nocturnal's realm, the realm of Evergloam, has been in Skyrim... well, longer than recorded history,” Karliah explained. “The Twilight Sepulcher was constructed around it by man and mer in order to shield it from those who would exploit its power. Through this conduit, we're given Nocturnal's greatest gift, our luck. What she gains in return is a complete mystery.”

Karliah bid them good luck, and the two Nightingales headed inside. They walked into a large room, where a part of pillars led to a glowing figure - one of the sentinels - and a staircase behind him. On the upper level were higher stone pillars that formed into arches. 

“I don't recognize you, but I sense that you're one of us. Who are you?” the figure turned to them, stopping Adi and Bryn in their tracks. 

“I'd ask the same question of you,” Adi spoke calmly. Brynjolf was almost too shocked to speak. 

“The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid.” He sighed. The sentinel sounded sad, defeated. Almost as if he had lost something when he was living. “I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity.” 

“The last? What happened to the rest?” Adi asked, taking a cautious step forward. 

“We were betrayed by one of our own kind. In fact, I'm to blame for what's happened here.”

“How are you to blame?”

“I was blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship.” What was he…? “Perhaps if I had been more vigilant, then Mercer Frey wouldn't have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key.” 

“Wait a moment... You're Gallus!” Adi and Bryn chorused together, looking at each other with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“I haven't heard that name in a long time. How do you know of me?” He brought the attention of the partners back to him.. 

“I have the Key,” Brynjolf said, showing Gallus the Skeleton Key. It felt heavy in his hand. 

“The Key! You have the Skeleton Key!” Gallus’ demeanour changed with excitement and relief in his voice. “I never thought I'd see it again. And Mercer Frey?”

“Dead,” Adi spoke with venom, eyes darkening. 

“Then... it's over, and my death wasn't in vain. I owe you both a great deal.”

“We did this to honour the Guild,” Brynjolf said truthfully.

“You've done the Guild a great deed.” Gallus gave a nod of acknowledgement, smiling under the mask. “ And although they may not show it, I'm certain they appreciate your sacrifices. My only regret is that you had to undertake this task alone.”

“Karliah helped us.” 

“Karliah... she's still alive?” It was clear he still loved her, and it made Adi smile. “I feared she'd befallen the same fate, ending up a victim of Mercer's betrayal.”

“Take the Key and right all the wrongs.” 

"Nothing would bring me more pride than to return the Key, but I'm afraid it's impossible. From the moment I arrived here, I've felt myself... well... dying."

“Then we’ll have to proceed alone.” Adi took Bryn’s hand, interlocking their fingers. 

“I'm afraid so.” Gallus nodded. “I'm weakening, and I can feel myself slipping away. The years without restoration of my power have taken their toll. Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim's Path to the Ebonmere and replacing the Key.”

“What will we face in the Pilgrim's Path?” Brynjolf inquired. 

“I wish I could help you, but I've been a prisoner in this very chamber for the last quarter century. The only possible help I've come across are the remains of some poor fellow who was trying to follow in your footsteps. Perhaps his journal can help?”

Gallus gestured to a skeleton East of him, and Adi and Bryn thanked him before moving to it. Adi picked up the journal and read it. 

“Shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark. They wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers. 

Above all, they stand, vigilance everlasting. 

Beholden the murk yet contentious of the glow. Offer what She desires most, but reject the material. For her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt or carried.

 Direct and yet indirect. The path to salvation a route of cunning with fortune betraying the foolish. 

The journey is complete. The Empress's embrace awaits the fallen. Hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion.”

“What do you think it means?” Brynjolf asked Adi as they read the words three times over. 

“I think the first one will have us fighting Sentinels,” Adi explained. “The second one has something to do with Nocturnal, and I believe darkness? I’m not sure what the third clue is. Those seem to be the most important.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Brynjolf shrugged. “Ready to begin, lass? I’d rather get this key returned sooner than later.”

“Let’s go, then,” Adi nodded. They returned to Gallus, journal in hand, and he greeted them. 

“I see you’re ready.”

“As ready as we can be.” Adi had a good feeling about it. It seemed like this would be the easiest part of their journey. One that was almost over. 

“Good luck, Nightingale.”

[qah-naarin]

daphne (dovahkiin) mercilessly squashed an innocent spider making aesthetic webs in the cistern. brynjolf wants to instill a life lesson. daphne has no self preservation and is also a little shit.

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Fallout x Skyrim Crossover Ideas

(I’ve already done a post about medieval fallout but..let’s get more specific? Idk, this is self indulging trash that I’m writing to help procrastinate while I work on other reacts/scenarios. If anyone has any ideas regarding this, feel free to comment! )

Macready would still be a freelancing mercenary, likely to be found somewhere shady as hell like the Bee and Barb in Riften. His archery skills shame Aela the Huntress.

Cait would be found in some crazy bandit fortress, forced to fight while loaded up on moon sugar constantly. Whenever she is “rescued” from her lovely bandit audience, she opts for returning to Riften. (Totally kidding..or maybe not.) To reunite with her distant relative, Brynjolf himself.

I could see hancock taking the place/similar to Madanoch, where Markarth is somewhat like Diamond City (although I would also say Whiterun too?) but with the corruption and everything..you know. Anyway, he’d basically be like a jarl in his own right, a jarl known for his eccentric liking towards skooma and ethnic diversity.

Arthur Maxson is young and powerful jarl, closely backing Jarl Stormcloak in the rebellion- as a matter of fact he strangely enough is an extremely high ranking officer in the stormcloak army as well, using his impressive military to aid whenever necessary.

Piper would be good friends with viola of windhelm okay? She’d also move from hold to hold, getting the latest scoop and even starting somewhat of a Skyrim-esque news type of thing. The thalmor have a hefty bounty on her though, thanks to all of her exposés of them.

Curie is an alchemist with her own shop and creepy sleever pets..don’t let them bite you though, she hasn’t yet perfected the elixir to cure the disease they can give.

Old Longfellow gets his money from trading with the skaal and taking “mainlanders” safely to the northern side of solstheim.

Nick works as somewhat of a mercenary, however he specifically works to help the locals find missing loved ones and things related to that line of work. He also is a particularly gifted illusion mage, frequently using the “clairvoyance” spell.

Gage is the right hand man to a ginormous, terrifying bandit clan’s chief. He..um..also is a bit of a pyromaniac, using fire spells left and right..but that about where the extent of his magic capabilities end. Used to run with the dark brotherhood though.

Deacon is a champion of nocturnal, a nightingale. He is also an outstanding illusion and alteration mage, having allegedly been a star student at the college of winter hold before mysteriously disappearing.

Paladin Danse is the old forgotten champion of Hermaeus Mora, you know, the dragonborn dude..just kidding, he’s actually the unfortunate child of a couple of Hircine worshipers that didn’t learn about his moon born abilities until it was far too late..being kicked out of Maxson’s army because of it. However he later found a home with the companions of jorvasskr, where he met Preston Garvey. Who knows though...maybe under all of that steel heavy armor really does lay the soul of a dovahkiin.