#oc:fjora

[thelurkershideout]

Still thinking about Fjora so here's some key points to her that have never changed over the years I've had her as an OC.

NOT DRAGONBORN, Fjora is not and will never be Dragonborn, she will never even really meet the Dragonborn of her timeline. I think they occasionally pass each other on the streets of Riften or Solitude but they do not know each other.

An absolute chameleon in social situations, you see her with the Bards and she is a completely different person than when she's with the Thieves Guild. Which one of them is really her? Honestly only her and Brynjolf know for sure.

Dean Inge Six-Fingers favorite student. Every Bard has a specialty, Fjora's is Lute. Fjora can make a tavern full of drunk and rowdy thieves fall dead silent with a Lute. Before she left Solitude she had an offer from the Blue Palace to be permanently employed to play lute for every event and even privately for Elisif herself. Girl fucking kills on Lute.

You know that part in Hamilton about writing like you're running out of time? I made Fjora before Hamilton was a thing, but if that doesn't describe her I do not know what does.

Fjora and Brynjolf can just exchange looks and immediately execute a plan without speaking at all.

Fjora has a book about the City of Solitude. It's the first thing she ever stole as a little girl. It is filled with notes and doodles of her dreams of one day going to Solitude. Most importantly pressed flat between the pages at the back of the book is a dried red mountain flower. It's the first thing Brynjolf ever stole for her.

[thelurkershideout]

Just gonna stream of consciousness brainstorm here a sec

So Fjora is my Thieves Guild OC, she's also probably my longest existing OC. She was born in Riften, met Brynjolf when they were both young and formed a friendship, then ran away from her terrible home life and studied to be a bard in Solitude before coming back to Riften years later.

I've been thinking a lot about those early days in Riften recently, and I know that Fjora never met or knew Gallus or Karliah before the events of the quest line. But like, what if they knew her?

What if they were aware of this little girl who clung to the edges of rooms and crowds on instinct? This girl who is already a natural at hovering just out of sight as a defense mechanism? She is clearly lonely, and there's something just WRONG. They know they can't approach her directly, she's too young to join the guild and her family has too tight of control over her for them to approach anyway. BUT they have a relatively new recruit only a few years older than her, fresh from the Gold Coast (this is my attempt to explain the "Lass") who needs to start socializing with the locals so he gets better at his job.

So Gallus gives Brynjolf a gentle nudge. "Just try to talk to her." Maybe under the guise of teaching him how to gather information. "She's always watching people, I wonder what she knows?" Brynjolf is awkward, he hasn't mastered his charm yet, but the quiet giggle from the girl who sits under the docks when it rains is promising.

Snow Veil Sanctum happens shortly after Brynjolf first speaks to Fjora. Years later Gallus's spirit isn't quite sure why, but the young woman who enters the Sepulchre is familiar and he feels hope return to him.

[thelurkershideout]

SO I stayed up all night writing and it's wednesday so have some of what I wrote. This is all first draft.

Context: This is Brynjolf and my OC Fjora immediately after killing Mercer and escaping Irkinthand. Fjora is not Dragonborn, she and Brynjolf were friends as teenagers and desperately in love but unwilling to admit it. Fjora ran away to Solitude to join the Bards College years pervious and joined the Thieves Guild when she returned to Riften after her parents death. There's a lot of angst, but the mutual pining get's resolved at least. This is SWF, there's some VERY vague references to Fjora's unhappy and abusive childhood.

As soon as Karliah had disappeared through the mouth of the cave Fjora found herself pressed against a rocky wall.

“Never again.” Brynjolf’s breath was hot against the side of her face as he clung desperately to her waterlogged frame. “I won’t – I can’t lose you again.”

“Bryn –” Fjora gasped, still trying to catch her breath from their desperate swim to the surface.

“When I couldn’t find you, I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t know where to go.” 

“Vekel said you went looking, even though Mercer told –”

“Before that,” Brynjolf pulled back, emerald eyes locking with hers as his hands cupped her face. “When you left, and I wasn’t there. I searched everywhere. Even broke into that damned house to look for clues!” His voice cracked with desperation as he rested his forehead against hers.

Fjora shut her eyes trying desperately to hold back the tears that were forming in them. Years. Years of thinking he had never cared.  So much anger and confusion every time he had shown any interest or concern once she had returned. The way she had cursed her own heart every time he smiled at her. Years of pointless pain.  A shaky whisper was all she could manage.

“You never found the basement.” Their conversation from weeks before suddenly crystal clear.

“It was as though you never existed. Just a product of some cruel daedric trick, or my own foolish imagination.”

“I’m so sorry. Bryn I'm sorry,” Fjora grasped at the back of his hood and buried her face against the cold wet leather on his shoulder  “I should have told you.”

“No Lass,” His voice lowered as his arms wrapped around her and he held her closer than they had ever dared to be. “You were right. I always put the Guild first. I was blind to how much pain you were in and how desperately you wanted – you needed– to run away from it all. After you left I threw myself even deeper into my work, into the Guild, anything that would keep the thought of you from my mind.”

There was no stopping her tears now. Years of longing and regret crashed down on Fjora all at once.  Every poem, and song she had ever written rattled through her mind in unison. Every other heartbreak suddenly felt so small. Every sensation of their embrace in sharp focus. The warmth of his arms through their armor, her tears as they ran down her cheeks, and his breath against her ear. The chill of the breeze flowing into the cave and the drips of water from their cloaks.  Every heartbeat hammered against her chest as though it was trying to break its way out of hers and into his.  She wanted to run, to hide in shame from her own feelings and desires for the rest of her life, and she wanted to hold Brynjolf as tight as she could muster and never let go.

“I have loved you since you smiled that miserable rainy afternoon all those years ago. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to ever show it.” Brynjolf’s voice cut through the chaos in her mind. “Never again.”