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Chapter Text

It was five or so years ago when the second in command of the once- famous Thieves' guild found himself infront of a strange sight; a small girl with a stick not so up her ass about the rebellion had made her way into Riften without pay. The silver tinged woman was dressed in mismatched rags that did well in exposing her body to the harsh elements of Skyrim, as well as an iron sword that must have been a hand me down with its rust and a blunt edge. From what the redhead could tell she was lower class. A beggar perhaps? She didn't have enough septims to pay for a bunk and her oh-so messy hair made her seem broken. But, many travelers these days bore the same appearance. Tattered and bare. Word had spread quickly across Skyrim, about the burning down of Helgen and the return of Dragons, but he tried to ignore it for the most part.

Dragons had become a legend long ago. Sure, he'd seen the skull in Dragonsreach while out on a heist, but, it was ancient and didn't tell him if other's like that still existed. Dragon's nowadays were just something to tell the little footpads to keep them in line. 

They couldn't have been real anymore?

Right?

As if the divine's themselves wanted to prove him wrong. A hellish roar broke the market’s stuffy, crowded air. It made the young woman take her eyes off of the ground and back up to the sky. It honestly took everyone's eyes off of the world around them and back up to the new shadow above. The sun had become eclipsed by the flying demon, that must have come straight from the deepest realms of Oblivion.

A beautiful thing; with shiny bronze scales that shimmered like septims in the midday sun, with wings the size of the market, and teeth shaped like daggers. Its presence woke up the usually sleepy, lazy guards from their posts. Striking Riften into chaos. The girl rushed out a horde of spectral arrows from a ghost-like bow as guards tried just about anything to bring it down.

Ah, a Mage then? Or maybe a spell-sword? Curious.

For what felt to him like hours the woman headed the charge against the beast. Shouting curses and using her fancy magic against it like that of a master tactician. While guards followed her lead and sent arrow after arrow into the thin, leathery, skin of its wings. Sometimes her words didn't make sense- like she spoke in an entirely different tongue, but then again he assumed it to all be some form of fancy magic that he'd never hope to understand. Everything she did was magical. Like a huntress fighting a wispmother. A deadly dance that would end in one or the other’s head. It even stirred a warmth in his chest as he watched. Something that he chose to ignore at the time.

A mistake.

He and the other denizens of Riften saw the beast’s demise. Saw it fall to the ground head first with an earth-shattering thud and then slaughtered by the iron of her blade. It was still alive, just barely. But she made quick work of that. Her sword broke into the creature’s nape. Separating the skull from its neck. The guards and those around him cheered as it's head rolled and the girl smiled. A brilliant thing with bright white teeth and pink cheeks. That wasn't the only spectacular thing that occurred when it died. No, that was when its soul was absorbed into her chest and she muttered an entirely different language with a sigh. For the rest of his life, he would remember those words, even if he would never know the translation.

"Grik lingrah zeymah. Zu'u fen koraav hi gein sul."

That was the very moment he thanked the gods for this glorious little present. He had to find a way to get her within his little circle. He just needed to have her cornered long enough for it though. He planned it for a good hour after she disappeared into the bunkhouse and reappeared in a much more form-fitting leather armor. The remnants of what he at first assumed to be saliva lay upon her neck- and a blue stone was pocketed away into her back pocket. Oh, so that's what she was into? Then he noticed the bunkhouse's maid watching her from the front of the bunkhouse with worried tear-filled eyes. So it wasn't like that at all, she was simply hunting. For a short while, he watched as she smooth-talked her way into getting each and every mark of Dibella from the bunkhouse owner's new lovers. A devious smirk on her face as she traveled all around Riften. She even got into a fistfight with Horse-crusher for the fun of it. She was quickly becoming quite the prize. Surely he should nab her up before someone else got wind of her.

His plan had been simple, just go up to her and give her a taste of his group of misfits lifestyle. But, no, each time he got close she would flee into another business selling her wares, buying what she could afford, or come out with a smidgeon of blood on her sleeve when she left Honorhall. Didn't the guards say that old headmistress, Grelod the kind was found murdered in her own orphanage? He would have to ask the imperial boy, Samuel, the next time he saw him. Then just like that in a single day, the girl had transformed. Turning from a vile beggar into an adventurer with each new glimpse.

She was almost swimming in her newly gained Septims.

However long it took for him to get her cornered, he hadn't thought that it would have been while she had her hand in his satchel. Scarred little hands searching for gold. His gold. Her big golden eyes froze on his face as she slowly pulled the offending object out of the leather pouch while still staring at him. A bold move if there ever was one. He liked it. A single gold Septim was still tucked between her index and middlemost finger. Glowing in the firelight of the guard's torches as they made their rounds. He'd let her have it, she seemed to need it. But he wouldn't let her go just yet. He was going to have her in his guild.

"Running a little light in the pockets, lass?" He joked as she slowly stood up to her full height. Barely to his neck, but she would do. The smaller the better he'd heard other members say over the years. The smaller the better indeed.

She had been surprisingly off put over him knowing about her financial situation but, agreed to help him fulfill his plan. They agreed about doing the plan the next day when the sun was overhead, and the crowds were less interested in jewelry and more interested in food. He even surprised her when he offered to pay for a bed at Keerava's Bee and Barb. But she just laughed and left, telling him that as the new Thane of Riften she was going to enjoy a night in her newly furnished home. More importantly, she was Thane.

Well, shit.

The next day went off without a hitch. They met in the early morning and spoke for a brief amount of time. He realized that she was well-read, magically inclined, and from Bruma. She told him that her plan in life was to become the Thane of every hold in Skyrim until she was one of the most influential women in the entire province. A worthy goal he assumed. a great goal if he got her to align herself with the Guild. So far she was Thane of Whiterun, Riften, Winterhold, Dawnstar, and Windhelm. Almost all of them were in support of Ulfric yet she claimed that her shield-brother's plight had been corrupted by their kin's hatred and that she would only join him when he had more power and his goals weren't so vague. He wished to speak to her more but she reminded him that it was time.

He was surprised with how quickly she took to lockpicking and pickpocketing someone she'd just sold a dozen things to days prior, or even dump her wares upon when he asked her for help, but he guessed that she didn't think of it that way. This was a mission, not a time for familiar contacts and morality. He watched her skulk past Grelka and behind Brand-shei's stall, then just like that the mission was over. Her delicate hands tricked the dark elf into a jail sentence and got her in good with the guild.

He told her that getting to the thieves' guild's hideout would make her an official member. He suspected that, that would be the last time he'd ever see her. That as soon as he returned home that he'd find the hold's guards with swords drawn and chains at the ready. But wasn't he pleasantly surprised that night to find her walk into the room with a tired grin on her face, hopeful in joining.

If he had known that allowing this little dragon killer into his dying guild meant that she'd bring back its former glory. Brynjolf might have kidnapped the twenty-something year old a decade ago.

Chapter Text

Three years ago, they did the unthinkable.

They killed Mercer Frey.

Just because Mercer Frey tried to kill Brynjolf's Protégé to hide his own shame.

Half a month before she came back and killed her mentor, he had believed her to be dead to this plane of existence. For her soul to be one with the shadows. She was said to have been killed by the very woman who would later come to help them save the guild. At the time, Mercer Frey stood before the members of the guild with his usual frown on his face and a bottle of mead in his lap as he recanted the tale of how she died, in such gruesome detail. When the arrow pierced her chest. The dagger slashed her throat, and how he fought off the monster's attacks until he found a way out. It was just the folly of the thieves' guilds luck that did her in. How she died with the hope of bringing honor to the guild being her final breath. But in actuality he had slashed her throat and kicked her into a corner. Supposedly lost to the Snow Veil Sanctum just like Gallus. Then, had placed blame on the guild boogeyman, Karliah. Riling each member up until they wanted blood for their loss.

With her first death a domino effect occurred, it struck the rest of the guild into a grief-stricken fit. The redhead remembered how grief took hold of each member in their own way. Some pretended that she was still out there, doing another mission. Vex became even more impossibly bitter. Delvin went near mad with his talk of curses and how her death was another part of it all. Thrynn had become a violent drunk, picking fights with anyone and everyone. Sapphire watched the secret entrance like a damned hawk alongside Rune, as Cynric and Etienne damn near went after Karliah themselves, swearing vengeance and her head on a golden platter. Tonilia and Vekel the man took to each other, much to his amusement and displeasure. But the most worrisome of the lot was her son, Samuel. He had been the one to tell him. Told him his mother had died honoring the guild. That she was a good woman. He tried everything and anything to make the boy feel better. But, it didn't work. The boy had narrowed his dark eyes on the door before yelling at him to leave. The door slammed on his ass as the boy could be heard from the inside of the room breaking dishes in his rage, his old beast Vigilance barking in the background, not knowing why his owner was so upset.

It took a whole month before he saw the kid again and boy was that not a pretty sight.

Little Samuel who wasn't even a man yet, he'd barely been to his mother's hip when she left. He had appeared in the Cistern one night through the secret entrance when the others were piss drunk. He was holding a delicately carved Daedric dagger in his left hand and was dressed in orphan’s leathers. On his head was his mother's thieves guild hood, making only his mouth visible from it's shadow. His expression was vicious. Like a wolf surrounded by injured deer ripe for the taking. He marched straight up to Mercer Frey and with a slam of his calloused fists he commanded the old man to find his mother and to let him bury her. To lay his mother's soul to rest and what not. 

"Get me my Mother Frey!"

"I'm not risking my or anyone else's lives just for some corpse, boy!"

"She's not some corpse you jerk!"

"I don't care, now leave!

"It's your fault in the first place Mercer! I'm not leaving until she's laid to rest!" The imperial boy wore the face of a monster as he shouted back and forth with Frey. The underbelly of society gathered around them as he shrieked and blamed. If they had known what they learned later on, maybe then they could have saved the trouble of hunting him and ended Frey’s life in the safety of their home. Where it was easier to hide a dead body. But no. Mercer left and Samuel sat by the water’s edge glaring at his own reflection, his boot-clad feet kicked the sewage every once and a while in frustration. The lad didn't want to return to Honorhall Orphanage. Even if it was now a safe place with all of his friends. The boy had for once in his life a mother to love him and then she was gone. Because of his guild, and that broke the man a bit on the inside. He stayed in the cistern for six nights, sleeping in his mother's old bed and staring at the water. On the seventh night Brynjolf sat by the boy and patted his shoulder vaguely and listened to the boy cry. Thoughts went through his mind, then, to adopt the boy and raise him into the guild. To live up to his mother’s name.

Chapter Text

The thought didn't leave him for the next week.

But then like a kick in the gut she was back. She was covered in snow, filth, and ash. The guild's uniform clung by it's strings against her war torn skin as she stomped her way back inside the Cistern. The sound of the tavern's hidden door slamming shut awoke everyone as a crowd began to form. Seven sets of curious eyes watched as the silver haired lass swaggered her way inside of the room with the smaller form of a dark elf. Another thieves guild member? A follower perhaps? No, the bright purple told him who it was but that didn't matter then. She had come back to the guild with the murderer.

"You better have a damn good reason to be here with that murderer." He threatened his own protégé with his sword raised at her chest. He could remember the way Samuel glared at him when he did. No doubt the boy would try to intervene. What he hadn't expected for was the dark elf to start speaking.

"Please, lower your weapons so we can speak. I have proof that you've all been mislead."

"No tricks, Karliah or I'll cut you down on where you stand. Now what's this so called proof you speak of?" He'd questioned her as he noticed the silver haired lass reach out for her son, the daedric blade still strapped to his hip as he ran to her side and stood by her. His mother's precious hood sat proudly upon his head as he dared any to even try to separate him from her again. Vicious little whelp he'd give him that.

"I have Gallus's journal, I think you'll find it's contents disturbing." Karliah continued as the silver haired lass nodded her head in agreement. Something had transpired between the two.

"Let me see." He had told her as she passed the weathered book at his hands with a frown on her ashen face. Inside was both the translation and the ancient Falmer text the old guildmaster loved to use. Vaguely he could remember basic things inside. Including his heists and Mercer Frey's plot.

"No, It can't be. This can't be true. I've known Mercer too long." Horror struck him as the two women stood before him with grim faces.

"It's true Brynjolf. Every word. Mercer's been stealing from the guild for years, right under your noses." She spoke every word like it was a punch to the face. It did until a thought crossed his mind. They could find out If she was lying or not. If she was lying maybe he could chalk it up to his protégé being tricked, if not then they'd have to go after Mercer Frey and somehow live long enough afterwards to enjoy it.

"There's only one way to find out if what the lass says is true. Delvin I'll need you to open the Vault." He spoke to the man with a frown on his face. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't.  Eyes watched from every corner as the small group crossed the Cistern. His protégé stood by Karliah in all of this, her pale hand patted her companion on the shoulder as she fell in line with Vex. Little Samuel followed as well, his eyes never leaving his mother's back as they went. The old man didn't just nod and turn around, he wanted to know what was going on just like the rest.

"Wait just a blasted moment Brynjolf. What's in that book, what did it say?"

"It says Mercer's been stealing from the vault for years. Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered."

"..That vault needs two keys, it's impossible. Could he pick his way in?"

"That vault has one of the best puzzle locks that money could buy. There's no way it could be picked open." Vex interrupted him with a frown. Then Karliah stuck her two cents in and the world went upside down.

"He didn't need to pick the lock."

"What's she on about?" The old man questioned but all he did was frown and interrupt him.

"Use your key on the vault Delvin. We'll open it up and find out the truth." He wanted to believe the story his precious protégé brought to him. He really did but he needed to know first. It felt like forever until Delvin reached the vault door and shoved the key inside. He heard the locks inside partially turn then go back into place. Just like it should. When Delvin turned around Brynjolf almost felt the nooses going over Karliah and the other's necks.

"I've used my key but it's still locked up tighter than a drum. Now use yours."

Now his walk to the door left sweat dripping to his brow and all of his hair standing up on end. The jingle of the key and the click of the lock would tell him all he needed to know. The dark elf stood by Samuel as his protégé followed him into the room, gold eyes widened as the door opened and the first chest stood wide open. They'd been bamboozled.

"By the eight! everything is gone! Get in here all of you!" He shouted as the silver haired woman walked towards another open chest. That same wide eyed expression on her face as she ran a finger over the dust covered box. This hadn't been just an over the night robbery, this was planned and executed over a long period of time. Just like Karliah said. The ropes that once surrounded their throats fled to Mercer as everyone else stepped inside the room. Delvin Mallory was petrified in his horror.

"The gold, the jewels. It's all gone." While he stared in disbelief Vex pulled out her blade and cursed the very ground that Mercer Frey tracked his feet upon. The want for blood was soon becoming all consuming as she paced. If he hadn't stopped her she might have just lost her head in all that emotion. Even Delvin agreed.

When Samuel and his mother left the room to talk Brynjolf decided to sound the alarm on what was going to happen. Mercer Frey was now on his very short blacklist and he was soon becoming public enemy number one of the thieves' guild.

"Delvin, Vex watch the Flagon. If you see Mercer come tell me right away." He told them with a  bitter taste in his mouth as he left the room to find his beat up little lackey. She was in the middle of the room with a weeping Samuel, the members of the guild didn't even give them privacy as they gawked, but then again maybe that's what she wanted.

Samuel’s mother was home, alive. The redhead noticed the deep expressions each and every member took as she pulled her hood off of her son's head. The calm that came as she hugged her son close to her chest and rubbed her throat in pain as she spoke. “It's alright, my little boy. Mama’s here, no need for all them tears. I'd never leave you all on your own if I could help it. Mercer Frey will rue the day he messed with your Ma don't you worry.” She spoke with a cracked voice. Not it's once lulling coo, but then they saw the new long vertical scar across her neck. A present for Mercer he would later learn. But that wasn't the only gift she brought with her. It would seem like Karliah herself wasn't about to allow anyone or anything to come between the touching seen as she narrowed her eyes on anyone that got too close. It startled a few members and got a few tongues to start wagging in a couple ears as they speculated on what relationship  the two might be currently having. He could remember hearing Niruin question if the golden eyed lass had a thing for elves or women when Karliah left her hand on her cheek for longer than five seconds. However he also remembered the wood elf not daring to ask either women personally only for the kneeling woman to smirk at him suggestively. Just what in oblivion did those to do together?

Karliah herself followed the dragon killer without a thought when he walked towards the two. The three spoke for awhile until it was agreed that Karliah could and should be trusted. They agreed that now was the time to bring Mercer to justice and that until they agreed upon who would be the new guild master he was in charge. A thing that he truly did not want and almost successfully pushed back onto the dark elf. She took it in stride and told the, both to meet her at a path just up the mountainside with an old standing stone. He didn't like it but until Mercer was dead he would do what had to be done. With a turn of his head he stared at his old protégé and frowned. Her eyes were dark and her voice was gravel when she agreed to go after she and her son returned home without so much as thinking.  She was too far down the rabbit hole to be dragged out so it would seem, whatever Mercer did to her made the once carefree lass grind an ax and hold a torch. Not a good thing.

When Karliah left for their meeting place outside of town and she had left with her son to Honeyside. He stood in the middle of the Cistern with only his thoughts for company. So many things occurred in a single day. So many problems came in a single conversation, and the only silver lining was that Samuel was reunited with his family again. This wasn't what he had wanted when he first joined the Thieves' Guild all those years ago back when he was a lad and Gallus was still kicking. He doubted this was what she or anyone else would have ever wanted either.