The Girl Who Cried Thief

Fairness Among Thieves

This fanfiction is brought to you by @KissMyAxe13 

I know that I ask for them a lot, but votes (and reads too!) really give my stories a chance to get out there. So thank you so much for voting!

Now, the story continues...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brynjolf's P.O.V.

        I took a very long time getting back to the Cistern that night. 

        Even though the rain slicked my hair and chilled my body, my walk was slow, and my thoughts were the opposite. Who was Asmiir really? I knew that she was a damned good thief, but if I were honest with myself, that's all I knew. Where she was from, why she had blue eyes--all of those were mysteries to me. 

        It was most likely close to 1 in the morning when I dripped into the Cistern. I was so lost within myself that I didn't even notice Mercer approach me. "Bryn, a word," he hissed, scowling.          I shook away my thoughts of Asmiir quickly and took a breath, steeling myself for any hissy fit that Mercer was bound to throw at any moment. "Yes?" I felt my eyebrow raise. He crossed his arms across his leathered chest and eyed me viciously. "That new recruit--Asmiir, was it?--what do you know about her?" he asked. 

I laughed. 

         "Nothing enough to note, Frey," I waved to him, stopping the conversation short and taking a step away. "As far as I know, she could be related to Jarl Elisif."

"Brynjolf!"

        Before I could even really turn around to face him again, Mercer had reduced the distance between us to nothing, and roughly grabbed me by the collar. I growled, but he stared me down hard, reducing my growl to me clenching my teeth hard, trying to bite back words of anger. "You'd do well to remember your place Bryn," he sneered, throwing me back. I landed roughly on the ground, hurting, but most of all humiliated. "My place, Mercer?" I stood slowly, my voice wavering only a bit. "My place, eh? I train all of the recruits. I plan out all of our large jobs. When contacts requests our services, they meet with me." I smiled wickedly and wiped my mouth. "My place, Mercer Frey, is to do your job for you..." 

        Everything was eerily quiet. By this time, some of the Guild members had awoken from their beds and had become an audience to my audacity. I was even more shocked; I had just defended myself against Mercer Frey. 

And he didn't like it. 

        Mercer's face had heated to the same red as my hair, and he was fuming. Without saying another word, he took a rapid step toward me and lifted his leg to execute what I could only guess was a kick square to my jaw. I put up my hands defensively and waited for the sharp pain in my cheek. 

         But it never came. There was only a soft thud, and a gasp from all in the room. 

         I opened my eyes. 

         "Hmm," Asmiir said simply, as if she were merely observing someone who was training to fight. My mouth fell open as she held Mercer's leg in the air, mid-kick, inspecting it. "The form is clearly Dunmer...but it's sloppy, and lacks all of the grace." 

         It felt as if all of the air had been sucked from the room, and Mercer's face lit up like destruction magic. "What did you say?!" he yelled. 

         Asmiir met his eyes. "I said your kick was sloppy. Would you like some pointers?"
         Mercer, infuriated, snatched back his leg and swung his fist towards Asmiir. She quickly dodged it, grabbing him by the wrist. "By the Eight, who trained you?" She scoffed. And in one swift motion, Mercer had been flipped on his back, choking for air.

        There was silence for a long time, even as Mercer stood and righted himself. "You attacked the leader of the Thieves Guild. You broke a rule." Mercer stated firmly.
        Asmiir threw her head back in light and airy laughter, the coils of her hair bouncing freely. "And what would kicking a Guild member in the face constitute as? Training?" and her laughter stopped as she stared Mercer down. "No; I defended a fellow Guild member from unfair treatment. A fellow Guild member that you were about to assault. Does even the Guild leader break the rules of his Guild?"
        Mercer glanced around at the audience; it was practically the whole Guild. Seeing that things were not in his favor, he dusted a shoulder and 'hmphed' as he made the trek back to his desk.

         "T-t-thank you." I stuttered out, picking myself up and shivering; I had forgotten all about my rain-soaked leathers.
         Asmiir smiled at me, giving me a once-over with her blue eyes. "I would have expected the same from someone else. I'm guessing it's raining outside?" And she nodded as I replied in the affirmative. "I suppose I'll wait until sunrise then. Well, goodnight Bryn." she waved as she walked off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asmiir's P.O.V

"That was quite...brave."

        I almost jumped from my skin. "What was that?" I whispered into the empty darkness of the Cistern. Everyone around me was asleep, and yet I still feared being caught speaking to the wind.
        The voice seemed to be considering what to say next. "...Why did you help that man?" It asked. I thought about the answer for a long time, and was honest when I admitted that I didn't know. "Mara, preserve me." I breathed, shivering at the dampness in the air. I withheld a laugh; I hadn't been very religious in Hammerfell, but I had learned that in Skyrim, the Divines were a necessity.
       Why had I helped Brynjolf? I could have gone back to the training room, pretending that I didn't see anything. It wasn't even really my business anyway; Mercer was Guild Master, and for all I knew, Brynjolf had deserved whatever he was getting.

But it didn't feel...right.

     That much aggression, and in front of the entire Guild...it didn't seem...
        "Fair," I said aloud. The voice was silent, so I continued. "It wasn't fair to Brynjolf for that to happen publicly. It was not fair." I sighed. The voice remained silent for another beat, and then said, "Fair," it repeated. "So that's what made you act. You thought that man was being treated unfairly." And I nodded in the affirmative. "Interesting...Asmiir?"
"Yes?"
"I don't care for that Mercer Frey fellow. Be wary of him." and all was silent again.

Suddenly, I felt a hand touch me.

        I quickly withdrew the steel dagger from beneath my pillow until it rested at what I assumed was the person's throat. "State your business." I snarled lowly in the dark.
        There was a small chuckle. "It's just me, lass" was the accented reply. I sighed and sat up further in bed, lighting a lantern. "What is it, Brynjolf?"

        He smiled. "I just wanted to say thank you again," I could feel his breath skitter across my collarbone. He was close. "It's not everyday that someone stands up to Mercer Frey. Thank you, Lass." he said.
        I smiled--I'm not sure why. But there was something about the was he called me 'Lass' that I found particularly comforting in the poorly lit Cistern, something I couldn't quite place. "You are welcome." I finally responded. He nodded and picked up the lantern as if to take it with him, and then set it back down again, his mouth a firm line. "Come with me." He said simply, and began to walk toward the ladder to the entrance.

I reluctantly followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woot woot, it's another chapter!

How do you feel about this story? To slow, too fast, not enough, too much? Leave your ritiques in the comments below!

Updates to come! But until then, keep on misadventuring. Bon voyage!

~Ty