Claimed: A Thieves Guild Fanfiction [Revised&Edited]

Chapter 7

A/N Look at this fabulous fan art ElizabethJacksonHall made!!!

   Brynjolf eyed the button. He knew he had to, but he really didn't want to enter the Guild. Out of nowhere, Arsha's voice popped into his head, 'Remember to tell Delvin that I completed his job.' Brynjolf halfheartedly muttered a curse. Now he had to go back.

He glared at the button for a few more seconds before jabbing it with his thumb. The stone slab slid backward, and before he could change his mind, he descended the steps and scrambled down the ladder.

The Cistern was dark and, surprisingly, empty. He heard the sound of steel clashing. Someone was using the training room. Brynjolf looked over at Mercer's desk, but he wasn't there. Another clash rang out. It seemed that the mighty Mercer Frey was doing some training. The thought of Mercer feeling the need to train for the upcoming duel made Brynjolf grin. Maybe the Guildmaster wasn't as confident as he appeared to be.

It was with slightly more spring in his step that Brynjolf walked into the Ragged Flagon. When he saw the looks on everyone's faces, though, the tiny amount of hope he had died. He walked over to Delvin's table and sat down. Delvin looked at him like he was envisioning the type of flowers he would put on his grave. Brynjolf rolled his eyes.

"I'm not dead yet, Del. You can postpone the funeral arrangements." He tried to keep his tone light and playful, but he failed.

"Normally I would, but Bryn, this is Mercer we're talking about," Delvin replied mournfully.

From her shadowy corner, Vex spoke up, "Even I can't argue with Delvin on this one." She shook her head hopelessly. "We'd be laughing at you for getting shown up, but when Mercer proves a point he doesn't mess around." She shrugged. "You're dead, Brynjolf."

"The amount of confidence you two have in my skill is awe-inspiring," Brynjolf said dryly. "But I'm not the one dueling Mercer." Everyone in the room looked surprised at this news, which confused Brynjolf. "He didn't tell you? Arsha's dueling him, not me. Mercer's only involving me if the lass loses, then he'll force me to go through basic training again." Brynjolf grimaced. "Not that I'm eager to."

There was stunned silence while everyone processed what Brynjolf had just said then Vekel voiced what was on everyone's mind. "Mercer is dueling the recruit? She'll be killed!"

Brynjolf nodded woefully. "Don't get me wrong, the lass is good. She's given me a run for my money more than once, but Mercer's the best."

Everyone nodded in agreement. There was silence while they all soaked up the hopelessness of the situation. From the platform in the middle of the room, Tonilia spoke, "Why? Why Arsha?" Other people around the room echoed her question.

"Partially to prove that my skills are slipping. The lass beat me, so if Mercer beats her he'll consider that proof of my 'failure'. But it's also to punish her for that little fiasco with Thrynn the other night." As he spoke Brynjolf caught Thrynn's eye and fixed him with a disapproving stare. Thrynn looked down at the floor, ashamed. "If Arsha loses she has to stop wearing her mask." At this, a few people gasped. They all knew she was very attached to that mask.

From the side of the room, Thrynn spoke up, "She won't do it. She won't let Mercer take it from her. If she loses she'll leave the Guild."

Brynjolf nodded slowly, "Aye, she will."

Yet again silence filled the room. It was a heavy, oppressive silence. Then from behind his counter, Vekel pulled a bottle of Black-Briar Mead. He set it down in front of Brynjolf and said gravely, "On the house, you'll need it."