Archive of Our Own

Revyn's face stung. The impact of it being shoved against the stone walls of the Gray Quarter by one Rolff Stone-Fist left him wishing that he had just made his errands early the next morning instead of that evening. The sun was setting over the city, casting long shadows and a soft orange and purple light to the surroundings, a contrast to the brumal air of the hold. The wind was sharp and cut through shawls and coats like an ice spike. Sometimes he hated living here.

Rolff stunk of cheap alcohol and sweat, the cold air doing little to mask the unpleasant odor in such close proximity. His hair was oily and matted to his forehead, his nose was runny, and his cheeks were flushed from the drink. His eye was also darkened with a bruise, his chin and cheek sported similar welts. His breath carried the scent of his favorite pastime in thin billowy gusts of steam. Revyn's fingers were frozen. His cheeks stung with the cold, almost numb themselves, but he could still feel the pain. Revyn's hand clung uselessly to Rolff's wrist, trying in vain to get him to let go of his head. The other hand clutched his belongings, hoping they wouldn't be taken. He could feel the rough, freezing stone scrape against his flesh.

"Filthy little spy," Rolff slurred.

Revyn let out a short breath, either from panic or exasperation, he wasn't necessarily sure. "Do I really look-"

"Shut up!" Rolff growled. The words were louder than they needed to be and almost comically strung together, but it was still enough to make Revyn bite his tongue. "Your kind are nothing but filthy leeches. You come into–into our home and pollute the place with your–with your stink."

It was unfair how this disgraceful man was able to be this drunk and still able to pin Revyn to the wall like this. He wasn’t helpless, but he definitely didn’t have proper training to handle this the way he wished he could.

To think that all he was doing was minding his own business—trying to make it back to the shop with his market findings as quickly as possible. He only wanted to count the gold he made from sales from that day, eat, and head to bed so he could repeat the process tomorrow morning. He had tried to keep his head low and when he heard steps behind him. He had hurried up. Apparently that was the wrong thing to do.

"Got ways of smoking you out," Rolff continued, a sneer stretching his face. "Burn your shop down. No one w– believe you." That made Revyn panic a bit. He never liked Rolff and the feeling was mutual, but he never thought he was capable of doing something like that. He saw Rolff reach for a dagger strapped to his hip and his stomach dropped. A chill ran across his scalp and down to the nape of his neck. "Carve you like a roast horker."

Revyn's fight or flight kicked in and he brought his knee up, aiming for his crotch but instead nailing Rolff in the gut. Rolf doubled over and Revyn shoved him off and ran away, the blade clattering on the stone. He made a beeline to his shop where he could at least lock the doors. The guards were all Stormcloak soldiers and wouldn’t help. He heard yelling and footsteps behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that Rolff had already recovered and was giving chase.

Revyn tried to run faster, almost slipping on a patch of ice in the streets as he turned a corner. He saw the vague shape of another man in his periphery and not a moment later he heard a grunt of pain from Rolff. Another quick glance behind him stopped him in his tracks.

This other man, face hidden in a hood, had managed to clothesline Rolff. The Nord writhed and groaned in pain on the ground, still trying to form slurred sentences. The man motioned for Revyn to move along as he crouched and began pilfering through Rolff's belongings. Normally Revyn wasn't fond of thieves but he was grateful to this one.

The inside of his shop never felt secure and warm. The feeling lasted briefly before he remembered Rollf's threat. Burn it down. No one would believe him. He clasped his hand over his mouth and tried to focus on steadying his breath. After a moment he set his purchases down and rubbed his shaking hands together to try and self-soothe and stave off the cold from the outside. He gulped and panted, looking around his shop at the various things lining the shelves.

He shuffled to the counter, his fingers skimming the grain of the wood as he passed. He couldn't remember the last time he’d felt that scared. It's hardly the first time a Dunmer had been threatened by that burly oaf, nor was it the first time he himself had been harassed, but it was the first time that he had been assaulted and threatened like that. He wanted to crawl into bed. He wanted to forget inventory so that he could sleep off this fear. He’d rise early and have plenty of time to do his work tomorrow. No. He'd push through tonight, as much as he didn't want to.

Revyn went about his usual routine—counted out his gold from the day and sorted through inventory for tomorrow’s display. Weary from the night's events, he yawned, feeling more exhausted than usual as he went through the motions. Perhaps he should've just gone to sleep after all.

Something shiny caught his eye. It was a small, attractive gold band. It was well polished and well kept but obviously old—at least fifty years old by his estimation. Still, there was a lot of care put into maintaining the look of this ring. He rolled it between his fingertips so it caught the light at different angles. It had swirls and delicate details. Must be worth a small fortune.

Wait.

Wasn't Viola Giordano missing a ring just like this?

He had seen her in town many times and she had a ring that looked very much like this on her person. Old wedding ring perhaps?

He looked at the band more closely. A lump formed in his throat when he spotted her engraved initials on the inner part of the band.

Oh Azura, this could be disastrous! How on Nirn did he end up with something so valuable to that poor woman? He couldn't just go up to her and give this back, it would look bad. It could cost him his reputation if word got out that stolen property found its way to his shop. No one would believe that it was an accident. He nervously tapped his hand against the counter and looked around as if something there might help him find a solution. Nothing. He swore.

He would have to figure it out tomorrow.

The door swung open letting the cold bite of the Windhelm weather into the building: a last-minute patron. He’d forgotten to lock the door. Revyn pursed his lips in annoyance while the man had his back turned, closing the door behind him. Before he turned around, Revyn switched to his smiling demeanor reserved for guests and quickly hid the ring beneath the counter.

"Welcome. Please let me know if you need anything." No sooner had Revyn finished speaking did it register that the man in front of him was the man who had helped him just moments before. It couldn't be though, could it? Surely other people in town had similar hoods and were around the same height. The man turned around and lowered his hood and Revyn got a good look at him.

Good look, indeed.

He was a Breton with well-groomed hair that reached his shoulders and what looked like hazel eyes from this distance. Could be brown, he wasn't sure. He was clean shaven with sharp high cheekbones and a strong jawline., His lips looked somewhat chapped from the cold, along with a pinkened nose and cheeks. He seemed a bit lean but with hidden tone and muscle. Well, you'd have to be strong to hit an angry drunk Nord into submission, right? Even if the Nord in question was usually uselessly inebriated.

"I saw that you ran this way and figured I'd make sure you were alright. I'm pleased to see that you're still open." He had a smooth accent. It was nice. Revyn nodded, trying to keep his salesman mask on in front of a potential buyer, even if it was also his recent savior.

Revyn turned his hands over slowly, still trying to self-soothe. "Yes, thank you. I'm perfectly fine now that I'm back home and away from that-"

"Drunk? Pig? Prick?" The man's eyes darted down to his hands and then back up to Revyn's face.

Revyn let out a breath, a cross between a laugh and a sigh. "Yes." He allowed himself a more genuine smile.

The man strode over to the counter and leaned over, propped up by his elbows."You sure about that? Still seem pretty shaken to me."

Revyn's smile faltered. "Yes, I'm quite sure."

The man said nothing in response, just merely raised an eyebrow in question. Revyn knew how to stand his ground with people that tried to buckle him. He'd be a useless shopkeeper if he weren't able to say no or not be swayed by entitled customers. The man nodded after a moment of scrutinizing him and spoke again:

"You're lying."

"I beg your pardon!?"

"I deal with a lot of liars in my line of work and I can tell. You're lying." He said it simply, as if it were the most obvious thing on Nirn. Maybe it was. The night's events had Revyn more shaken than normal, so it stood to reason that it would affect how he would come across even when trying to be professional.

"I–" Revyn stopped himself and took a look at the man's attire. Something in his head clicked. Thieves' Guild. No wonder he was looting Rolff once he’d had him on the ground. "You're with the Guild."

The man nodded, a small smile curling his lips. It made him look more impish. And handsome. "Guilty," he said, waving his arms open. "My name is Etienne, by the way."

Revyn let out a short sigh. "Were you hoping to extort some kind of reward from me, is that it? You save my hide and I'm indebted to you?"

"No, but I can see why you'd think that." He didn't even seem bothered by the assumption. Must be a rogue thing. "I was outside finishing off a drink to get some fresh air and I heard a commotion. When I looked around the corner, I saw you were being assaulted and wanted to step in, but then you kneed the bastard in the gut. When you took off towards me I knew he'd come after you and I just–" He then mimicked his clothesline motion then shrugged. "He'll live, but he won't be coming after you tonight." There was a small, awkward pause on Revyn's end before he finally managed a ‘thank you’. Etienne smiled in return—simple, closed mouthed.

'He could return the ring.' Revyn thought. He almost shook the thought from his head but caught himself. He could at least ask right? Who better to return a piece of stolen merchandise discreetly than a thief?

"Something on your mind?" Etienne asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I just–" He paused, decided it was a bad idea, then asked anyway. "I need help with something. If you help me out I’ll owe you a favor."

Etienne's expression changed ever so slightly. "Ah." He shifted his weight on his other foot, his hip moving to the side. "You sure that's smart? Owing a thief a favor?" He winked, his smile widening. Slowly, he raked his eyes over Revyn and brushed the pad of his thumb over his lip. Revyn felt heat creep up his neck and mentally cursed himself.

"I don't think I have much choice." Revyn admitted, drumming his fingers on the counter.

Etienne hummed in thought before standing upright. "Alright. What is this favor you need then?"

It felt like two hours had passed, and Revyn still hadn't slept. He stood behind his counter, arms crossed, staring at the door as if Etienne might suddenly materialize with good news. He hoped that he hadn’t been caught and thrown in jail. He had half a mind to go down and check. He tapped his finger against his arm, forehead creased with worry.

No sooner had he considered finding something to preoccupy his time, the door swung open and a snow dusted Etienne walked through. Revyn's eyebrows shot up as he waited for Etienne to close the door and say something. Etienne turned around, shaking loose flakes from his hood before he lowered it, a rather smug smile on his face.

"She was fast asleep. Practically sucking in the walls with her snoring. The ring is safe and sound."

Revyn sighed with relief. It felt like a weight was scraped off of him and he didn't have to worry about it anymore. "Thank you. That was going to eat at me."

"Glad I could help, then." He strode to the counter and leaned over it into Revyn’s space. "Now, about that favor..."

"Right." Revyn's stomach flipped nervously and once more. Heat crept up his neck and around his cheeks. There was a pause and Revyn could see the tip of Etienne's pink tongue from between his teeth as if he were getting ready to speak or thinking about what to say.

"Buy me a drink."

Revyn blinked at him, his brow pinched together in confusion for a moment. "That's your favor?" he asked dryly, both more relieved than he let on and surprised it was so simple.

"That's my favor." Etienne repeated with a nod and smirk.

"That's really all you want?"

Etienne chuckled and tilted his head to the side in mock innocence. "Would you like it to be something else?"

"No, no, that's quite alright." Revyn spoke quickly, cursing how flustered he sounded. "Come on, the Cornerclub should still be open." Etienne really did laugh at that. The sound was genuine and contagious and it actually brought a smile to Revyn's face as he ducked behind the counter to look for his coin purse.

"I do need to be back sometime though. I have a shop to run tomorrow."

"Would tomorrow be better then?"

Revyn thought about that for a moment, his movements paused while he turned it over. "No. After the day I had I could use a drink." He walked out from behind the counter and met Etienne at the door. "I realized I never told you my name. It's Revyn."

"Then lead the way, Revyn."

Revyn led the way to the Cornerclub, trying to ignore the fluttering he felt when Etienne said his name.