Chapter Text
When Mailie trudged her way back into the Flagon, Delvin and Vex were waiting for her. Delvin beckoned her over with a wave when he saw her enter and she came without comment, too tired to voice a response.
"You were in there for a while," Vex remarked as Mailie approached.
"Telling him off took longer than I expected," she responded, leaning against the fence surrounding the pool. Mere months ago she would not have trusted it with the weight of a tankard, but one of the first renovations she'd had performed was replacing the existing fence with a newer, taller, and stronger one. She didn't need anyone falling in and catching a cold-- there were children around, for gods' sake.
"I hope you told him what an idiot he is," Vex said as she crossed her arms. "And to never go running off like that again."
Mailie had to smile at that. "I did-- or in so many words, anyway." She suppressed a yawn. "How were things while I was gone?" She didn't really want to ask for fear of an answer that might keep her awake even longer, but she knew she had to.
Delvin set his notebook down onto the table next to him. "We got on well enough. Rune picked up a few interesting items that should fetch us a pretty penny, provided we can find the right buyer. I've got Ton working on connections as we speak. Cynric thinks he's got a lead on a big score, though he's been stingy on the details."
"Meaning he doesn't have them," Vex interjected.
Delvin snorted. "Right you are. We'll see if he actually comes through. Beyond that, business as usual. I'll spare you the details. You can check the ledgers yourself if you want them." Mailie nodded gratefully, knowing she would probably be doing just that. Later.
"Thanks, Del. I need one of you to talk to Herluin and find out what we owe him for supplies. Preferably before he has a chance to think too hard about it."
"On it." Before Mailie even finished speaking, Vex was marching off towards the apothecary's shop. Delvin watched her with an amused expression.
"I don't envy him if he tries to pull one over on her," he muttered.
Mailie snorted. "Me neither. Though a part of me would love to see him try." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Gods, she was tired.
Delvin raised an eyebrow at her. "Take a seat," he said, pulling out a chair. She all but collapsed into it. He sat down across from and gave her an appraising look. "If you don't mind my saying, boss, you look like you'd lose a wrestling match with a skeever at present. What are you up to next?"
Mailie sighed. Sometimes she was glad that Delvin could read her like book, and other times she hated it. She wasn't sure which it was at the moment. "I don't know. Food, bath, sleep. Haven't decided on the order yet."
"I can help with one of those." Delvin stood and disappeared to the bar for a moment before returning with a bowl of soup, which he placed in front of Mailie. "Eat that, and get some rest. You've earned it."
She managed to let out some appreciative noises before setting upon the soup. It was Vekel's usual, meaning it wasn't anything special, but it was by far the best thing she'd eaten in days. Delvin let her be while she continued eating. When she finished, she stood and left the Flagon, too tired to care that she'd left her dishes on the table. Vekel could hardly complain; he had her to thank for his booming business.
She returned to her bedroom. She slowly pushed open the door to avoid making any noise that might wake Brynjolf. Thankfully, he appeared to be fast asleep.
Mailie shut the door behind her and crept to the other side of the room. Carefully, she removed her borrowed armor and set it atop her dresser. She then undid her braids and combed the tangles out of her hair, wincing at the snags on her scalp. She'd need to properly wash the sweat out of it at some point, but it could wait. Finally, she blew out the candle on her nightstand and crawled into bed.
Brynjolf stirred. "Lass?" he said groggily into the darkness.
Mailie lay down next to him. "Right here," she whispered as she pressed a kiss to his chest.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, humming appreciatively. "S'good to have you here."
She smiled, and draped herself over him. "It's good to be here."
***
The Winking Skeever was alive with activity, but Mailie partook in none of it.
She stayed at her corner table with her cup of mead, overlooking the lively scene on the inn's main floor. It seemed as if every working person in Solitude had elected to spend their gold here tonight, filling the air with shouted conversations and raucous laughter. Which suited Mailie's purposes just fine.
The sound of footsteps came up the stairs. Mailie kept her eyes trained on the bar below her as the argonian crossed the balcony and sat in the other chair.
Gulum-Ei carried his own drink, which he set down on the table. Mailie drained the last of her mead.
"I assume there's a reason for all this secrecy," he murmured.
"Apologies." Mailie put her tankard down. "I wouldn't normally go to these lengths, but I have extenuating circumstances to contend with."
"As long as it keeps me out of the dungeons, I don't mind." Gulum-Ei took a sip of his drink. "What do you have for me, then? I assume it's something good."
"The opposite, actually." Mailie crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. "I'm looking for something."
"Oh?" Gulum-Ei seemed intrigued. "We get plenty of unusual items passing through Solitude. I'm sure I can help you. What are you looking for?"
Mailie shifted. "Information."
The smuggler rapped his fingers against the table. "On what?"
Mailie leaned over to meet his gaze. "Three weeks ago, the Legion arrested a man breaking into a house near Castle Dour. A Nord, red hair, leather armor. He was badly injured and needed help changing out of his armor before they put him in the cell. I need the name of the guard who helped him."
Gulum-Ei stood. "Wait here."
Mailie emerged from the tavern the next morning. Instead of any of her usual armor, she'd donned a Nordic dress. Whether or not it would make her less conspicuous remained to be seen. She walked down the streets of Solitude, missing the familiar weight of Dawnbreaker on her hip. She was not without substantial protection-- there was a dagger on her waist and in her boot, she had her magic, and these streets were rather safe, besides, but she felt naked without it nonetheless. It had killed her to leave the sword behind in her room at the inn, but she knew it would draw far too much attention.
She spotted her quarry. Gulum-Ei's information had been sound, as usual. The guard was standing near the Hall of the Dead, squinting in the early morning sun. He was younger than Mailie had expected-- she normally wouldn't have been able to tell, but his helm was visorless. Probably a more comfortable option in most circumstances, but on this particular day he was probably wishing for a closed helm, if for no other reason than to block out some of the sun.
Mailie walked over to him. He didn't seem to notice her approach as he stared blankly across the street.
"Good morning, sir."
The man nearly jumped. Clearly, passers by did not often stop to talk to him. "Ah-- Morning, ma'am," he sputtered out. He looked around him, as if expecting to see some kind of emergent situation occurring behind her. "Can I... help you with something, ma'am?"
Mailie folded her hands in front of her. "I do hope so," she said. "I believe I find myself in a situation in which--" She glanced over her shoulder, then stepped forward and lowered her voice. "Might I speak to you in private, sir? It's a rather delicate situation."
The guard blinked. "Certainly," he said in an uncertain voice. "I, er-- Let me take you to the fort, ma'am."
They walked up the streets to Castle Dour. In the courtyard, a few guards milled about, practicing with bows, swords, and axes. The guard led Mailie past them and through the door to the castle's interior. Once inside, he turned and led her down the stairs to the barracks. A few people looked at them curiously as they passed, but none seemed to pay them much mind. Finally, the guard opened a door to a small side room, and Mailie followed him inside.
He shut the door behind them. The room was windowless, though a pair of candles provided enough light to see. "I don't believe I caught your name, ma'am," the man said as he removed his helmet.
"Amelie." Technically not a lie.
"A pleasure to meet you then, Amelie. The name's Erik." He gestured to a table behind him. "Please, have a seat."
Mailie shook her head. "No, thank you." Refusing him was a gamble, she knew, but she didn't want anything between her and the door.
He looked at her curiously, but did not press the issue. "Suit yourself." He put his helmet down on the table. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"
Mailie placed her hands over her belt, fiddling with the fastening. "I don't know if you'll have heard, but... a few weeks past, a man was arrested near Castle Dour. I don't know if he'll have given his name, but it's Brynjolf. My understanding is that he was hurt quite badly and needed some assistance-- perhaps you heard some of this from the guard who helped him?"
Erik's jaw moved silently for a moment as he stared at her. "I did hear of it, ma'am. Well, in a manner of speaking. I was the one who helped him."
"Oh!" Mailie feigned surprise. "I suppose I can cut to the meat of it, then. I know it's a lot to ask, but is there any chance that I could see him?"
Erik's whole body seemed to tighten. "I'm afraid that's not possible, ma'am."
Mailie looked down. "Of course. I understand. Security is very important, especially with the war on. I'm sorry to ask this of you, but would you take a message to him, at least? I would not ask under normal circumstances, but..." She pressed her hands to her stomach and let her cheeks redden. "As I said, it's a rather delicate situation."
"I--" Mailie thought that Erik's face might be redder than her own. "I'm afraid I can't do that either, ma'am, though not for the reason you might think. Brynjolf disappeared from the dungeons not long after he was captured."
"I see." Mailie put on her most crestfallen expression. "Thank you for your help, sir. You have been most kind." She dropped her hands and turned to leave.
"Wait." She turned back around. Erik looked positively terrified. She wondered if he'd even meant to speak.
"Yes?" she said hopefully.
Erik looked to be at a loss for words. She was close. She stepped forward so that she was barely a foot away from his face.
"Sir-- Erik, if I may-- I don't mean to press you, but I find myself in a very difficult situation. I will likely never see that man again. If there is something you wish to tell me--" She placed a hand over her chest. Below it, her heart beat a steady rhythm, but more importantly, the Amulet of Articulation pressed against her palm. "I would very much like to know it."
The guard looked down at her. Mailie could almost see the turmoil in his head. Finally, he reached inside his uniform and pulled out a small object, wrapped in cloth. Without a word, he pressed it into Mailie's hand.
"You should go," he murmured.
Mailie stepped back and nodded. "That I will. Thank you, sir."
***
The walls of the Ratway were, predictably, wet. For once though, Mailie did not particularly mind. She walked briskly down the winding halls, barely even noticing the weight of her pack. When she finally reached the office door, she entered without knocking.
Brynjolf sat behind the desk. He looked up at the sound of the door with the most disgruntled expression Mailie had ever seen him wear.
"Welcome back," he said sullenly. The desk before him was littered with papers, books, and a sprinkling of coins, but was dominated by a heavy leather-bound ledger.
Mailie walked around to his side of the desk. She slipped her pack off her shoulders and dropped it onto the floor, then shoved a few items to the side and closed the ledger so she could perch on the edge of the desk. "Has Delvin seen what you've done to his books?"
Brynjolf crossed his arms. His leg, still splinted, was propped up on a short stool. A pair of crutches leaned against the wall behind him. "As a matter of fact, he has."
"And he let you live? Clearly you're more charming than I thought."
"I'm charming enough. At least for you, it seems."
Mailie smiled and dropped off the desk. Brynjolf tilted his head up into her hands as she leaned down and kissed him. His hands went to her waist and pulled her in close.
"Hm." Mailie tucked his hair behind his ear after retreating from the kiss. "For future reference, I greatly prefer this to the welcome you gave me."
Brynjolf's thumbs rubbed circles into her sides. "I don't know if you've noticed, lass, but I'm a tad limited in my movements." He shifted his splinted leg. "Sorry to disappoint."
Mailie rolled her eyes, but sat down on top of his leg-- the good one. Brynjolf wrapped his right arm around her waist to hold her steady.
"How were things while I was out?" she asked, still playing with his hair.
"Fine." He shifted forward a bit so he could lean back, giving Mailie more room. "Nothing of note, really."
Mailie finished with his hair. "Does whatever broke Vipir's nose count as 'nothing of note' to you, then?"
"If by that you mean his own stupidity, then yes. He managed to lift an entire book out of a mage's pockets without rousing a bit of suspicion, then tripped on his own feet two streets away. You should have seen him when he got back. Thrynn nearly fell in the water, he was laughing so hard."
Mailie winced. Vipir's nose would be fine, but she was a bit concerned about what might be in that book-- and even more so with who he may have taken it from. She resolved to ask him for details later.
"I'll take your word for it." She cupped his face in her hand and stroked her thumb gently back and forth across his cheek. Brynjolf was never especially attentive in maintaining his beard, but he'd let his whiskers grow even longer than usual in the week or so that Mailie had been gone.
"After all this time, you finally take me at my word." He tilted his head to the side to let her fuss over his cheek. "And what adventures did you find yourself on this time, lass?"
"Running back and forth across the whole damn province, mostly," Mailie grumbled. "I've cleared Herluin's bounties in Whiterun and Winterhold, but Ulfric's steward is proving difficult. I might actually have to prove his innocence to get it taken care of."
Brynjolf looked at her skeptically. "You sure he is innocent, lass? I'm not saying I don't trust him, but I wouldn't leave him alone with my porridge, if you catch my meaning."
Mailie shrugged. "Innocent may be something of a stretch, but I know he didn't kill the man in question. Directly, at least. I'll speak with him about it later. Hopefully he can provide some helpful information, or at minimum a convincing lie." She leaned in until her face was finger's breadth away from Brynjolf's. "But that's a task for another time. For now, I have more pressing concerns."
When she brought their lips together into a kiss, Brynjolf's arm tightened around her waist. She let him pull her in against his chest as she continued to run her fingers over his scraggly beard. His hand rested comfortably on her knee, stabilizing her as she balanced atop his leg.
They came apart for just a moment. Brynjolf's fingers dug into Mailie's side, but she barely even felt them.
"I missed you," he whispered against her lips.
Mailie smiled. "I missed you too," she whispered back, tilting her head in for another kiss.
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Mailie jumped off Brynjolf's lap with a barely concealed yelp of surprise and brushed herself off. "Come in!" she called, hoping whoever was outside didn't think anything was amiss.
Vex strolled into the room with her usual composure. "Oh good. You're both here," she remarked. "Get to the Flagon when you can. Cynric came through on that score he was going on about, and I want to show you the details." She looked them over and raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know why you're both looking at me like that?"
Mailie shook her head and prayed fervently that her cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "Don't worry about it. We'll be along in a bit, I want to finish looking over the books."
Vex shrugged. "Suit yourself. Enjoy your numbers." She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Mailie turned around to see Brynjolf looking at her with an amused expression. "It's not funny," she insisted, but his grin only grew wider at her indignation. "Brynjolf!"
He chuckled, which did nothing to calm her. "You have to admit, lass, it is a bit amusing. You're redder than a tomato."
She leaned back against the desk with a scowl. "You're insufferable."
He winked. "You love me for it."
She did, but she wasn't sure she could say so at the moment without it coming out as a smart remark, so she kept quiet. Her fingers drummed along the edge of the desk. "Bryn, can I ask you something?"
Brynjolf leaned back and rested his elbow on the back of the chair. "I serve at your pleasure, Princess."
Mailie didn't have it in her to roll her eyes. She looked down at the floor, suddenly doubting herself. Brynjolf seemed to notice her consternation and straightened a bit.
"What's on your mind, lass?"
She took a deep breath. "When did you know?"
"That I loved you?" he asked quietly. She nodded, not trusting that anything she tried to say would leave her mouth willingly.
Brynjolf paused to think. "I've two answers," he said after some consideration. "When you and Mercer went missing... I suppose that's when it started. I knew you could both take care of yourselves, but couldn't for the life of me work out why he wanted you to settle the score with Karliah. If I'm honest, I spent the whole time I was searching for you steeling myself to tell him off for it." He snorted. "In a way, I did, eventually. But to answer the question of when I knew for sure... I suppose it's when we made you guildmaster." His jaw was tight, and Mailie though she saw him grind his teeth. "It-- something changed in you that day, lass. When I put that amulet around your neck, all I could think of was how far you'd come, and how proud I was." His voice broke off a little at the end and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "What about you?"
Mailie knew she couldn't very well skirt the question after that. "I-- I don't think I realized until I heard you'd been arrested. I didn't think much about it, I just had to find you. You knew that, though." Her cheeks were burning redder than ever. "As for when it all began... it was Karliah. I didn't think anyone would believe her, Bryn, but you did. I--" Her words were failing her. She nudged at his leg with her foot. "You're a good man, Brynjolf. Better than you know."
He looked away. They were terrible at this. Mailie bit her lip. There were a hundred things she could say, but not one of them felt right, and every one was harder to say than the last.
"We should go see Vex," Brynjolf said finally. He moved as if to grab his crutches.
Mailie scrambled off the desk. "Wait." She'd forgotten half the reason she came in here in the first place. She rifled quickly through her pack and retrieved a small cloth bundle. "Here, I have something for you," she said, and handed to Brynjolf.
He looked at her curiously. "What is it, consolation for my leg?" He began to unwrap the bundle. "I'll admit you've surprised me, but it's not much substitute--" He froze.
Mailie watched with bated breath as he unfolded the cloth. Her hands were on the verge of trembling, so she clasped them in her lap. The cloth fell to the floor, ignored as Brynjolf laid his father's amulet across his palm.
Mailie drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry to spring this on you. I meant to tell you when I came in, but--"
She was cut off by Brynjolf launching himself at her. She caught him as he fell forward against her and would have toppled over if it weren't for the desk behind her. She would have scolded him for being so careless of his leg, but he pulled her into a kiss before she got the chance.
His hands cradled her head gently as he placed kiss after kiss on her lips, cheeks, nose, jaw, and every other inch of her face he could reach. The amulet's cord was looped around one of his fingers and bumped against her back with every movement, but Mailie barely even noticed. For once in her life, she let someone else shower their affections over her without hesitation. Her hands were braced against his shoulders with just enough strength to keep him balanced on his good leg, but she otherwise let his lips wander over her face.
It took him a while, but Brynjolf eventually remembered that Mailie needed to breath. He ceased his attentions and leaned his head back enough to look her in the eyes. "How?" he whispered in a voice full of wonder.
She placed one of her hands over his heart. It beat like a drum inside his chest. "Gulum-Ei found me the name of the guard who helped you out of your armor," she said. "And told me his schedule. I found him and convinced him to give me the amulet."
Brynjolf shook his head in disbelief. "I was certain he'd have gotten rid of it as soon as he could. It's not worth much, so he couldn't have sold it, especially not in Solitude. I've been imagining it at the bottom of the ocean more often than I'd care to admit."
"You'd be surprised what people are willing to buy," Mailie muttered. As if he didn't know that.
Brynjolf shook his head again. "What did you even say to convince him to hand it over?"
"I told him I was carrying your child."
Brynjolf choked. " That was your solution?" he sputtered.
"It worked," Mailie said with a shrug. "And I more implied it, anyway."
Brynjolf eyed her with a trepidacious look. "Just so we're clear, lass, you're not--?"
Mailie rolled her eyes. "Obviously not, Bryn. Do you really think that's how I'd tell you?"
He shuddered. "Forgive me for choosing to not give it too much thought."
Mailie chuckled. The hand holding Brynjolf's amulet had gone from her cheek to the table beside her to support his weight. Almost instinctively, Mailie rested her own hand on top of it. He lifted it from the table and laced their fingers together, then brought their hands to his lips and kissed the backs of Mailie's knuckles.
Mailie let her fingers slip out of his. They tangled in the amulet's cord as she lifted it from Brynjolf's hand and slipped it over his head. The amulet thumped against his chest, and she took his face in her hands and brought him into a soft kiss.
"Thank you," he whispered, resting their foreheads together.
Mailie kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Don't mention it."
Brynjolf's hands settled on her waist as he nuzzled along her jaw. "How long do you think we can keep Vex waiting before she sends someone after us?"
Mailie snorted. "I think she's far more likely to proceed without us." She stroked Brynjolf's cheek with her thumb. "We should go to her. I'd like to see if this score is as good as Cynric seems to think it is."
"Very well." Brynjolf leaned back. "Shall we pick this up later, then?"
Mailie rolled her eyes. "Not sure I have much choice in the matter, seeing as you've been sleeping in my bed." She dropped off the desk and handed him his crutches. "You need to shave, by the way."