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The Girl with the Voice - Brynjolf XIII

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As he rolled over, the partially open window coverings allowed the brightness of the day to filter into the room and directly on to Brynjolf's face. Even with his eyes closed, it was enough to rouse him from his slumber. He opened his eyes slowly, but when his eyes adjusted to the light, Marieka was not there beside him.

"Mari?" he called, breaking the silence of Honeyside.

"In here," came the reply from the other room.

He sat up quickly, spinning off of the bed to place his feet on the floor. He felt stiff as he did so and reached towards the ceiling to arch his back into a deep stretch. When he peered into the kitchen area, he could see Marieka sitting at the dining table, hunched over it. Padding quietly towards her, he adjusted his bed clothes and almost reached for a fresh tunic until he felt the warmth of the fire still present in the room.

She glanced over at him as he approached and smiled.

"I'd rather you not put on that tunic anyhow, love," she purred. "I enjoy gazing at you in that state of undress."

He chuckled as he placed his hands upon her shoulders and bent forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"What are you doing up and dressed so early?" he asked. "I thought we had planned to lounge around for a full day before you headed back to Whiterun."

"We did, but I…had some business to attend to." She continued to hunch forward, writing what appeared to be a letter.

"Guild business?" If that was it, he hadn't heard anything about it.

She shook her head quickly.

"Personal."

"Ah," he replied. "Too personal to let me know about it?"

She pushed the chair she sat on away from the table and looked up at him.

"Brynjolf, you trust my judgment, do you not?"

His face creased with worry for a moment. "Of course I do."

"Then trust me when I say that some things I cannot share with you," she replied. "At least, not right at this moment."

He stepped back from where she sat for a moment. She sensed his concern and stood up, taking both of his hands into hers.

"I understand," he said quietly. "But…I worry about you." He let go of one of her hands and placed his gently upon her stomach. "Both of you."

She placed her free hand atop his in response as she smiled at him.

"I know you do."

He pulled her towards him and held her close. When she buried her face into his chest, he reached up to stroke her hair softly.

"I want to come with you to Whiterun," he said.

She pulled back and looked up at him.

"I thought we already discussed this."

"We did," he replied with a frown. "I'm not happy with the decision."

"You know that you can't come with me beyond the city."

"I know. It doesn't matter. I want to be with you as long as I can," he said.

"I—" she began to protest; the expression on his face stopped her from doing so any further. "Okay. Come with me."

He smiled once more. "Thank you, Mari. I just want to make sure you're safe for however long I can do so."

"You can't always be with me, Brynjolf," she pointed out.

"I can try."

He felt her fingertips lightly brush against his cheek as she gazed into his eyes. They trailed along his jaw line and over his chin as she pulled away from him and moved to sit down once more. She looked back up at him as she pulled her chair in.

"I'll only be a few more moments," she said, "and then, I'm yours."

Her attention turned back to the correspondence she wrote and she picked up her quill to continue.



The day was unseasonably warm. The sun had long since burned off the misty haze that settled over the canals; though the gentle yet sustained breezes blowing through the walled city of Riften would have dispersed the fog at any rate. Even the surrounding lands of the Rift were considerably pleasant. Brynjolf decided it was time to take advantage of the conditions and convinced Marieka to take a walk with him. Preferring to avoid others – particularly those in the Guild – they exited Honeyside and circled the city's outer wall. The stables were deserted; at the main gate stood a single guard. He merely nodded at the pair as they headed towards the eastern wall.

When they were out of the gate guard's earshot, Brynjolf halted his forward motion.

"It's been a while since we've been to Nightingale Hall," he casually stated. "Should we pay it a visit?"

It would mean a significantly longer stroll than she anticipated, but Marieka nodded in agreement.

"It could probably use some tidying up," she said. "Karliah has been traveling for some time now."

"Actually, I thought you might just appreciate the walk," he murmured. "It might be a while before you're able to just enjoy a few moments with me. And just be by yourself if you need to."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Bryn. I do need that."

They started once more towards the sanctuary of the Nightingales in silence. The world was similarly quiet, save for the crackling of leaves underfoot and the occasional songbird. Every now and again, a wolf's cry could be heard from a distant hilltop in the mountains beyond the cave. Brynjolf silently thanked the gods no echoes of dragons could be heard on the winds that day.

Exchanges of small talk kept the mood light. The warmth of the day persisted as they neared their destination; so much so that they felt overdressed at times and removed the light cloaks they wore. Marieka breathed an audible sigh of relief when they finally reached the clearing that led to the cave's entrance; her pregnancy had been starting to draw on her energy.

As they entered the cave, Brynjolf took notice that it was decidedly less musty than the last time they had been there and settled on the fact that the turn towards the cold season in the south was the cause of the fresher air – even with the unseasonable weather that day. He followed her into the cave and watched as she strode carefully over the unsteady rocks leading to the main hall. She stopped on the bridge and turned to watch the water cascade from above; the cool mist from the waterfall danced in the air in front of her and sprinkled her face in a light spray. Her eyes closed and she smiled.

Brynjolf stood back at the start of the bridge and watched her. She delighted in the experience and let a laugh escape as her smile widened.

"What's got you giggling so?"

She opened her eyes and looked over at him, the smile still stretching across her face.

"It reminds me of where I grew up," she began. "The warm seasons were beautiful on the coast and my mother would take me to Illiac Bay. If we walked north beyond all the fishing hovels near the mouth of the river, there was sand as far as the eye could see. We used to swim as often as we could, but the days I remember best were when the leaves began to change colours. My mother and I would walk to the beaches on those days – there was always a crisp, cool wind coming off of the water. It would spray the salty water across our faces and we would just stand there, holding hands facing the bay."

She stopped speaking and grew silent, reflecting upon her memories.

"Mari?"

Blinking, she turned to him. "I miss her so much, Bryn. I…I just want her to be here. To put her arms around me and tell me everything will work out. That it will all be okay."

He approached her and took her hands gently.

"Close your eyes," he whispered as he squeezed her hands in his. "She is with you, Marieka. She is always with you."

He saw her lip quiver momentarily, before settling into a small smile. She nodded slowly.

"I know," she replied. "I know she is."

"And I am, too."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, lifting her hand up to palm his cheek.

"I know you are."

They continued to walk through the caverns and corridors of the Hall; Brynjolf stepped back every so often to allow Marieka to reflect upon whatever she needed to. When they returned to the hall of glyphs, Brynjolf recalled the day they were called to be Nightingales by Nocturnal. Even as they stood in their newly acquired armour, he could sense her nervousness. She stood and watched as Karliah offered the pair up to Nocturnal in order to gain the strength to take down Mercer Frey. He remembered back to the night they confronted him; how strong and powerful Marieka had become compared to when he'd first encountered her. And how he'd witnessed that night for the first time, her Thu'um.

The two had gone through more than he could ever imagine a couple going through in one lifetime. It made him wary of the near future.

But that was a worry for another day. For this day belonged to them to revel in.



The return to Riften was as quiet as the journey to Nightingale Hall. Brynjolf sensed Marieka was dragging her heels on more than one occasion – perhaps attempting to draw out the afternoon for as long as possible. Such perfect days came along infrequently with the state of the province and the threat of the dragons. If he could have, he'd have frozen the world around them to give her all the time she wanted.

The southern wall of the city and Mistveil Keep came into view on the horizon far quicker than they both hoped it would. As they walked towards the city, he felt her tugging him towards the eastern wall.

"Let's just walk through the city," he suggested.

"But…I…"

"Mari, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she sighed. She quickly tossed her cloak over her shoulders and pulled up the hood, as if she'd caught a chill. Brynjolf shrugged the whole display off and continued to walk towards the south gate into Dryside.

By all appearances, there was a commotion on the wooden path that led to Honorhall Orphanage. He strained to see past the crowd that had gathered, even prompting Marieka to stop.

"Bryn, let's just keep going," she pleaded. "I don't want to get involved in whatever seems to be going on."

"It'll just take a moment," he replied. "I want to know what's got everyone's interest."

"I'm…I'll just wait by the market," she groaned.

He felt her withdraw her hand from his and let her move away as he closed in on the small crowd. He could see several guards holding the onlookers back as more guards moved in and out of the orphanage doorway. Hushed whispers flew between members of the crowd, but he could barely make out anything worthwhile.

The group fell silent as they saw Maven Black-Briar exit the orphanage with a scowl upon her face. She barely made eye contact with anyone as she pushed past the guards and spectators.

"Go back to your busy lives, peasants," she growled to no one in particular.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Brynjolf stepped towards a guard, idly standing to the right of the door.

"What's the news?" he asked.

"No news," the guard replied.

"You sure, lad? Awful lot of fuss over no news," he insisted slyly.

"Maven Black-Briar doesn't want us talking about it." The guard shifted nervously.

"I could make it worth your while to talk about it," Brynjolf purred and walked past the guard towards the side of the building. He leaned against the orphanage wall and waited.

It didn't take long for the guard to join him.

"So…what do you mean 'worth my while'?"

Brynjolf pulled a small coin purse from his pocket and dangled it in front of the guard's face. The man immediately reached for it as the thief quickly pulled it out of his range.

"Uh uh uh," he smirked. "Not until I hear what I'm paying for."

The guard sighed and looked around quickly. He leaned in towards Brynjolf.

"Poor Constance found the old woman dead in her bed this morning," he whispered.

"Grelod?" he asked. "So why the fuss? She's a wee bit long in the tooth, don't you think?"

The guard shook his head.

"Murdered. Throat slit from ear to ear. Been questionin' the runts all morning. Say they don't know nothin', but I don't know 'bout all that."

"Interesting," he replied, furrowing his brow. He turned to leave. "Thanks."

"Oye," the guard whispered harshly. "What about my coin?"

"Right," Brynjolf smirked as he tossed the small bag at the guard.

The guard missed the bag. As he bent over to pick it up off the ground, Brynjolf chuckled and pocketed the septims he had lifted from the guard while being told of the murder.

It wasn't until he turned towards the market that he could see where Marieka was standing. A cloaked figure was moving away from her and as he approached, she quickly shoved something into her pocket.

"Well?" she asked when he reached her. "Satisfied?"

"Hmm."

"What does that mean?" she asked, scrunching up her face.

"Someone murdered Grelod."

"The old woman?" she exclaimed.

He nodded. "They found her in her bed this morning."

"Hmm."

"And what does that mean?" he chuckled.

"Well, the woman did kind of deserve it," she said, shrugging.

His eyes widened as he tried to hold in a hearty laugh. "My, my, Marieka. You certainly can be malevolent."

Her giggle was a bit nervous and she immediately turned to head to their home.

"Let's go," she insisted. "This day is running out and I still want to ravish you one last time before my journey begins."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of Honeyside. It didn't take long before the momentum had shifted and he was pulling her. Brynjolf was a patient man, but when it came to the thoughts that her statement began to stir within him, he could no longer wait.



Eyes open.

He could see the ceiling beams in the light of the hearth fire as his eyes focused. It was dark outside. It didn't feel as though he'd been asleep for long, but a smile quickly crossed his lips when he recalled the moments he'd been a part of in the past number of hours. It was a night he'd not soon forget, which suited him fine based on the very much unknown future.

Brynjolf found himself rolling over once more to a vacant bed. He placed his hand on Marieka's side of the bed and discovered it to be cool. She had not been in the bed for some time. He sat up and wiped his eyes.

"Mari," he called out. "Are you writing notes again?"

Silence.

"Mari?"

He leaned over on the bed to look into the kitchen.

No one was there.

He peered down the steps. Perhaps she couldn't hear him due to concentrating on some alchemic concoction.

No one.

"Mari?"

His voice betrayed his worry. He rushed to the back door of the home, opening it quickly to find no one waiting on the other side. He looked around in a panic.

A note. Did she leave a note?

Nothing.

"Marieka!"

It was at that time he noticed the front door was not latched fully. He hurried to open the door and saw nothing suspicious. No one but a guard patrolling the city.

"Evenin'," the guard said.

"You…uh…has the Thane passed through the city?" he stuttered.

The guard shook his head. "Haven't seen the Thane since the sun was up."

He breathed heavily, mumbling a thank you to the guard before closing the door and heading to the bedroom.

Brynjolf stopped and stood for a moment at the centre of the house, trying to calm his breathing. His eyes fell upon the corner of the room where she'd tossed the cloak in their hurry to undress each other when they returned from their walk. He quickly grabbed it and dug around its pockets. What had she shoved in there while standing in the market? Who was the cloaked figure? And where was she?

He felt a piece of crumpled parchment – a small note. Pulling it from the pocket, he hastily unfolded it.

It fell to the floor as his heart jumped into his throat.

He'd heard the rumours, but had never encountered them himself. But the handprint in blood could mean only one thing – the Dark Brotherhood existed. And they were targeting Marieka.
A series of connected one shots of the Dovahkiin from the perspective of traveling companions, friends, lovers and those who attempted to cross her.

A/N: This writing thing. It's like pulling teeth.

Published simultaneously at ff.net.

Part of The Girl with the Voice collection.
© 2013 - 2024 massivelyattacked
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txchimama's avatar
Are there any more chapters after this one? I've read all of them up to this one,and was wondering...... You're an awesome writer! And I love your stories! Also love your DA stories! Keep up the good work!