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ironwoman359 · 8 months

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A Thief's Gamble - Ch.2:

All Eyes on Us

Prev: Ch.1 - No Risk, No Reward || Next: Ch.3 - Honeyed Words, Bitter Deeds Fic Masterpost

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

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence, Mercer is an asshole but god he deserves more dimension than the game gives him.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 3,083

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

Brynjolf stood in front of Mercer’s desk, arms folded. Mercer, for his part, didn’t even look up from the map he was pouring over.

“I’m sorry Brynjolf,” he said. “I wasn’t aware that there was anything more that we needed to discuss.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Brynjolf demanded. “You can’t send Ariene to Goldenglow.”

“And why not? The job needs doing, and she’s available to do it.” He gestured vaguely around the mostly empty cistern. “It’s not like we have a wealth of other options.”

Brynjolf looked away, then took a breath. He leaned closer, resting his hands on the table and speaking in a quiet voice.

“Mercer, Vex nearly got killed trying to get out of that damn bee farm. What’s the point of recruiting someone only to turn around and send them into a death trap?”

“What’s the point of recruiting someone who won’t be an asset to us?” Mercer snapped, finally looking up from his desk. “The Guild doesn’t have any time or coin to waste, Brynjolf. If this recruit of yours isn’t cut out for this then we need to know now.”

“If I thought she wasn’t cut out for it, I wouldn’t have bothered bringing her in here in the first place.”

“Then you should have nothing to worry about. If she pulls this off, she’ll have more than proven herself. If she doesn’t, then all I’ve done is save us more trouble down the line.”

Brynjolf leaned closer, looking Mercer directly in the eyes.

“...and sentenced the lass to death,” he said quietly.

Mercer stared back at him, and Brynjolf held his gaze.

Silence stretched between them, and for a moment Brynjolf thought Mercer might actually change his mind.

Then, the Guildmaster huffed, and shook his head.

“We have a dangerous profession, Brynjolf. We put our lives on the line for riches every day. If the girl isn’t willing to do the same, then she doesn’t belong here. Plain and simple.”

Brynjolf just looked at him, then let out a short laugh.

“Fine. If you want to care more about the gold than our people, be my guest.”

He straightened and turned to head back to the Flagon, but Mercer called after him.

“Brynjolf.”

He paused, and looked back to see Mercer frowning down at his desk.

“I learned a long time ago…anything that you care about in this line of work other than the next job and the coin? It can be taken away from you. Hell, so can the coin, but that you can at least steal back. So if I were you? I’d avoid getting attached.”

Brynjolf pressed his lips together, and looked down at his feet briefly before meeting Mercer’s gaze head on.

“I know you’ve been doing this longer than I have,” he said quietly. “But I’ve been doing it pretty damn long myself. So let’s just agree that I’ll keep doing things my way, and you’ll do them yours. Deal?”

“Suit yourself,” Mercer said. “But the girl is still going to Goldenglow.”

“Fine.”

He walked away, and forced himself to take a deep breath and wipe the signs of tension off his face. It wouldn’t do any good for the others to see him irritated, but especially not Ariene. As much as he and Mercer could butt heads sometimes, putting on a unified front was more important than getting his way.

Brynjolf walked into the Flagon, just in time to overhear Delvin talking to the Imperial, who was seated at an otherwise empty table.

“-spit in that curse's face and turn things around down here. Put things back the way they were. That’s where you come in. I’ve got plenty of work available that could guide us down the road to recovery.”

“Work that I’m sure she’d be happy to do for you, once she’s finished with her job for Mercer,” Brynjolf said.

“Fair enough,” Delvin said, and he nodded to Ariene. “When you’re ready, all you need to do is ask. Then we can both come out of this smellin' like a rose."

“Absolutely,” Ariene said, then she turned to Brynjolf and gave him a small smile. “So, how about that drink?”

“Vekel?” Brynjolf called, pulling up a chair across from her. “I’ll have my usual please. And one of whatever the lass wants.”

“Hang on,” she said, smirking at him. I thought I was buying you a drink?”

“Tell you what,” Brynolf said as Vekel brought him an ale. “How about I buy your drink, you buy my drink, and we just call it even.”

Ariene shrugged.

“Fine by me,” she said, accepting a bottle of mead from Vekel and clinking it against Brynjolf’s tankard. She took a long drag from the bottle. “Tell me about the Goldenglow job.”

Brynjolf took a sip, and leaned back in his chair.

Ariene had changed into her new Guild armor, and had taken her bow and quiver and leaned them up against the table. Brynjolf noted that a nasty looking orcish dagger was still in a sheath by her side, but it was a good sign that she felt comfortable enough to at least partially disarm while in the Flagon.

Her hood was also down, and she had pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail, making it easier to the torchlight reflecting in her blue eyes.

Brynjolf quickly took another sip of ale, then cleared his throat.

"Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm,” he began. “They raise the wretched little things for honey. It's owned by some smart-mouth wood elf named Aringoth.” He scoffed at the thought of the elf, and shook his head. “He was always a stubborn bastard, but now he’s stopped sending us our cut of his profits. So we need you to teach him a lesson by burning down three of the estate's hives and clearing out the safe in the main house."

��Okay…” Ariene said slowly. “So what’s the catch?”

"The catch is that you can't burn the whole place to the ground. That important client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did."

“No,” Ariene said, shaking her head. “That’s not a catch. That’s just the job. You said even Vex couldn’t pull this off, and she just told me that she’s the best infiltrator you have.”

Brynjolf sighed.

“Aye…and she is at that. To be honest, we’ve been at a bit of a loss as to how to proceed since she came back empty handed.”

“What on earth makes you think I can do something that one of your top members can’t do?” she demanded, and Brynjolf bit back a grimace.

“Well,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “Look at it from Mercer’s perspective. Our best has already tried, and wasn’t able to get results. Then a new recruit comes in, whose skills are all but untested. He wants to see how valuable you’ll really be to us.”

Ariene’s eyes drifted to her bow for a moment, before she frowned back up at Brynjolf.

“How long are these tests going to go on before you people trust that I can handle myself?”

“Look, as far as I’m concerned? You’ve proven your mettle already. But like I said, Mercer makes the decisions around here, so if he says you take a job, you take the job.”

“I’ll take the job, if I know what I’m getting myself into,” Ariene said sharply. “Why couldn’t Vex get in?”

“It wasn’t getting in that was the problem,” Vex piped up from where she stood watching in the corner.

She walked over and sat down, grabbing an apple off the plate of food that sat in the middle of the table and taking a big bite of it.

“The problem was getting out in one piece.”

“You ran into trouble?” Ariene asked, and Vex laughed.

“Hmph, yeah I did. That wood elf’s wit... he's a lot smarter than I expected. Can you believe that fetcher had more than tripled the guard?”

“Guard?” Ariene repeated, her grip tightening on her bottle of mead.

Brynjolf nodded.

“And not the Riften city guard, either,” he explained. “Aringoth sent them packing and hired private mercenaries to fortify the entire island.”

“There must be eight of them in there,” Vex muttered. “It was like he was daring us to come and get him.”

Ariene sighed, and fiddled with the hilt of her dagger.

“Eight guards?” she repeated. “All inside the house, or were there some outside too?”

“There were four or five outside, and the others were guarding inside the house itself. Almost as if Aringoth expected a cat burglar to try to snoop around.”

“Alright,” Ariene said, getting to her feet. “I’ve heard everything I need to know. I’ll be back when the job’s done.”

“Hey,” Brynjolf said, standing as well. “You watch yourself on that island. Those mercenaries don't take prisoners.”

“Yeah,” said Ariene. She downed the rest of her mead, clanking the empty bottle down on the table. She grabbed her bow and quiver, slung them over her shoulder, and shot Brynjolf a grim look. “I know the type.”

She strode out of the tavern without looking back, and Delvin let out a low whistle.

“Now that one there’s got an edge to her. Maybe she’s what this outfit needs after all.”

“I hope so,” Vex grumbled. “I’ve got loads of petty jobs lined up that she’d be just right for...provided she makes it out of there alive.”

“She will,” Brynjolf said, hoping he sounded more sure than he felt.

Still…he couldn’t explain it, but he sensed something about the woman. Somehow, he just knew that she was meant to be here. Not that he’d ever voice something so mystical and wishy-washy out loud. Having one superstitious old bat in the Guild was enough, and the last thing he needed was people thinking he was basing decisions on nothing but hopes and dreams. And despite his gut telling him that Ariene was needed at the Guild, that wouldn’t do anyone any good if she wound up dead because of Mercer’s stubbornness.

All eyes are on you, lass, he thought grimly. Don’t disappoint us.

— — —

Brynjolf was a professional.

Not just that, he was a damn good professional. He’d been playing this game for most of his life, and this wasn’t the first time he’d had work to do while worrying about another job, not by a long shot.

The key to keeping everything running smoothly without getting distracted was not wasting any time overthinking what was out of his control. He could plan for different outcomes to the job, but spending the whole day worrying about what that outcome might be would only negatively impact his other work.

So for a whole day, Brynjolf worked the market, collected information, and spoke with contacts. He even sold the occasional bottle of ‘Falmer blood’ elixir. And throughout the day, a dozen what-ifs floated across his thoughts, each more dire than the last, but he filed each of them away for later. He let the worry simmer quietly in the back of his mind, and he’d address it when he could, if time gave him that luxury.

“Brynjolf.”

Brynjolf looked up, and nodded in greeting.

“Maul. What can I do for you today, lad?”

“Message from Maven. She’s got a job for you.”

“Very well. What type of operative does she need?”

“She wants someone who can be discreet and still get results,” he leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “In fact, she’s specifically asked for the person who pulled the hit on Goldenglow. Oh, and by the way? She says it’s about time your lot handled that situation.”

Brynjolf glanced behind him, and his breath caught in his chest. To the west, a thick plume of smoke was visible over the city wall as it slowly wound through the sky. Maul must have been watching Goldenglow from the docks and sent word to Maven as soon as the first hive went up in flames.

“Well, my operative hasn’t checked in yet,” he said coolly, turning back to Maul. “But as soon as she does, I’ll let her know Maven wants to meet with her.”

“She’ll be at her private table in the Bee and Barb tonight. And if I were this operative of yours? I wouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Brynjolf nodded, and Maul stalked away.

So, Ariene had at least managed to destroy the hives. But had she made it off the island unscathed? Dirge had informed him earlier that day that a lowlife had been found dead outside the public entrance to the Flagon with an arrow pierced through his throat. So presumably, the lass could handle herself in a scrape. But Vex had said there were over half a dozen guards on the island, which was a tad more than a simple scrape.

Out of your control, he reminded himself as he packed up his ‘wares’ for the day. If Ariene had been successful, then she’d be heading back to the cistern, so that was where he needed to be.

He took the long way through the Flagon, stopping on his way past to collect the Guild’s cut of Tonilia’s profits for the month.

“Here,” she said, passing Brynjolf a sack of coin. “This is all for now, but I’m expecting next month’s take to be a fair bit higher.”

“Oh? Do tell,” he said, pocketing the gold.

“That new recruit of yours, Ariene? When she picked up her armor she had an armful of stolen jewelry to fence. Looks like Madesi’s work, actually. I haven’t had a chance to sell it yet but I know a few buyers who would be happy to get their hands on some genuine Argonian craftsmanship. You might just have been right about her.”

“And when have I ever been wrong?” Brynjolf asked with a wink.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“You know what, I think I hear Mercer calling my name,” he said, stepping back and putting his hands up. “I’ll talk to you later, Tonilia.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving him off.

Brynjolf rounded the corner and entered the Guild. He scanned the room quickly, but there was no sign of Ariene yet. Frowning, he dropped Tonilia’s profits into the Guildmaster chest by Mercer’s desk.

“If the lass shows up, I’ll be in the training room,” he said, and Mercer grunted in acknowledgement.

The training room was usually empty this time in the evening, just the way Brynjolf liked it. He changed into his armor before pulling out a pair of daggers. He flipped them in his hand, then with a cry slashed them across the dummy’s chest. He darted back, holding them up in front of him as a guard against an imaginary attack, then ducked forward, catching the dummy on the side as he slipped past it.

Over and over, he drilled different moves with the blades, and as he did, he allowed his mind to dwell on the worst.

What if the fire had spread and more of the hives had been burned? They were getting to be on thin ice with Maven, the last thing they needed was for her to have a reason to take her business elsewhere.

What if after Vex’s attempted burglary, Aringoth had emptied the safe and moved his assets elsewhere? The whole point of the job was to show him what happened when he crossed them, but if he kept one step ahead of them, then would they have raided the estate for nothing?

…what if something had happened to Ariene?

There was still no guarantee that she’d made it out of the estate. Just because the hives had burned didn’t mean that she’d broken into the house or escaped the guards. She could be trapped somewhere, or injured, or even dead, and by the time they found out it’d be too late for them to do anything about it.

He should have pushed back against Mercer more. It was insanity, sending a new recruit into a job like this. If this job was so important, why on earth send a rookie? Then again, if he was so against a new recruit getting hurt shouldn’t he have volunteered to go himself? But Vex had already tried, and did he really think he was better at break-ins than Vex? No, of course not. But then why expect an untested stranger to fare any different?

Logically, he knew it shouldn’t matter that much to him. It’s not like he knew the lass well; she was practically a stranger. And he’d certainly been the indirect cause of plenty of other strangers’ deaths, and felt none the worse for it.

But those had all been enemies…or enemies of allies, or even just enemies of clients. Whatever the case, there’d been an understandable motive behind the act, and it had been part of the job.

Nothing about this job had been supposed to be dangerous. It was a bee farm, for Shor’s sake!

With a growl of frustration, Brynolf drove both daggers deep into the dummy, embedding them in its chest. He stood there, breathing heavily and staring at the hilts sticking out of the straw for a moment. He wiped the sweat beading on his brow with the back of his hand and let out a sigh.

If the lass didn’t check in by morning, he’d have to send someone to the farm to find out what had happened. Not one of the regular Guild members, Aringoth would likely be on the lookout for them. Maybe he could get one of the guards he had in his pocket to ‘investigate’ the fire, or he could give Edda a few septims to dress up as a customer. Aringoth might be more willing to be chatty with a potential buyer than with a guard. Then again, could he trust Edda to stay on task and actually find out what he needed to know? Snilf would be a better choice, if it weren’t for the fact that Snilf hated Brynjolf on principle, and would be unlikely to listen to a word he said.

Brynjolf ran a hand through his hair, then pulled his daggers out of the draining dummy and slid them into their sheathes. There was no use staying here and letting his mind linger on what ifs, the time had come to make a plan. He turned to leave the training room…

…and found himself face to face with Ariene herself.

— — —

Prev: Ch.1 || Next: Ch.3

AN: I haven't decided yet if I'm going to give Ariene any POV in this story. I'd like to write more stories with her as the Dragonborn, so I'll explore her POV in those 0for sure, but if you'd like to hear her POV sooner, let me know! Remember, reblogs are a fic writer's lifeblood!

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2stepadmiral · 7 months

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They should make a sequel to Solo, perhaps as a mini series, and here’s how I think it should go:

Starts with Han and Chewie making a daring run through Imperial territory, perhaps regaining a shipment of spice from rival smugglers before getting through an Imperial blockade. Soontir Fel, one of Han’s former colleagues in the Imperial Navy, who has become sort of Han’s Javert, tries to warn his captain about Han, but is shrugged off and the Falcon escapes.

Han and Chewie have been smuggling for Jabba for months, but are still trying to figure out how to be successful and haven’t really earned Jabba’s respect. They deliver, but often late and too often attracting too much attention. Jabba decides to give them one more chance and subcontracts them to Crimson Dawn, now under Maul’s direct leadership. They go to Dathomir, where Maul and Qi’ra are waiting. Maul reveals that he knows that they killed Beckett, and for depriving him of vengeance, he expects their help in retrieving an artifact for him. He pulls out a lightsaber to threaten them, but Han is convinced that his display of telekinesis is a “simple trick.”

Qi’ra accompanies them to supervise; they recruit young mercenaries Kyle Katarn and Jan Ors to help. Qi’ra’s and Han’s dynamic is colder and less trusting, but they are still drawn to each other. They raid a wealthy business office on Kuat for an old Star map, barely avoiding Soontir Fel’s squadron as his ship is being repaired.

Maul reveals that the map will help them find the long-lost Sith world Dromund Kaas, where he believes he will find a weapon capable of helping him defeat Palpatine. He expects Han, Chewie, Kyle and Jan to join him in this endeavor. The group travels to Dromund Kaas with Maul’s flagship and personal guard, where Kyle’s Force sensitivity becomes apparent. Maul gives him a green lightsaber and promises to train him.

Fel’s squadron is transferred to the Devastator, where Vader is personally taking charge due to Maul’s involvement. It culminates in a battle on the surface of Dromund Kaas, as well as in space, between the Empire and Crimson Dawn. Maul massacres stormtroopers while Vader massacres Crimson Dawn before the two meet in a climactic duel. Han, Chewie, Kyle, and Jan are all caught in the middle. They manage to return to the flagship and reclaim the Crow and the Falcon, but Han reluctantly flies back through the battle to save Qi’ra. Fel chases, but his fighter is damaged and he goes extravehicular. Han reluctantly brings him aboard and lets him take an escape pod in recognition of their old friendship, which convinces Fel to give up his fixation.

Maul eventually loses, badly, against Vader, and is forced to flee on a damaged ship. He plots a course for Malachor, having learned of the weapon’s location from the temple on Dromund Kaas, and signals Qi’ra to wait for his signal. Qi’ra takes command of Crimson Dawn and offers Han power as her cohort; he declines, finally understanding that Qi’ra is not the woman he loved and grew up with anymore.

Kyle and Jan part as friends with Han and Chewie, though Kyle quietly has reservations about Han’s dismissal of the Jedi ways as ancient weapons and hokey religions. The artifacts from Dromund Kaas are sold to Grakkus the Hutt, and Jabba finally accepts Han as one of his favorite smugglers. It sets up Maul’s shipwreck in Rebels, introduces characters from the EU, and could be fun.

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