Moonlight's Embrace (A Skyrim Fanfic) (ORIGINAL)

Mercer

I think you already know this, but in POVs other than Russet's, the time is different, showing what happened to the Guildmembers during her absence.

WBE: 423
WAE: 935
__________

((28th of Evening Star, 3 days before Russet's return, 4E 202))

((MERCERPOV))

None of the fools inside the cistern noticed me around the massive safe. I didn't expect them to, and it wasn't as if an opening door would draw their attention. With the Key in my possession, I was able to slip right through the door. Piled high with gold, jewels, treasures and charms, I shook with the knowledge that it would all be mine. 

The Key allowed me to bring it all, to open that door to my own mind and carry it through. It would have been an infinitely more difficult task had I not had this asset. Everything valuable vanished the second I held out the Key. Nocturnal thinks she can hold this away from us? Useless broad.

The entire contents of the safe, every earning of the Guild, every bit was in my possession. As I strolled through the cistern into the Ragged Flagon, I almost laughed aloud with the knowledge that I was invincible. None of these fools knew that everything they'd ever worked for was mine, all mine.

Before I left, I decided on one more crash. It was only too obvious how distraught Brynjolf had been after I'd taken care of the little thief. He was more attached to her than he let on. Oh, they'd grown quite close over the past few moons, but just how close was the question. 

"Brynjolf, just the man I wanted to see." I sat down in front of him, slumped onto a table with empty bottles scattered around. His eyes were rimmed with red, and the strong reek of alcohol washed out with his breath. Was he drunk over his little lass? Rich.

"Mercer." It wasn't a question, or an answer. It was simply a statement, devoid of feeling. He leaned backwards and watched me carefully, waiting for what I had to say. I assumed a face of false distress and concern.

"There's something I haven't told you about Russet." Immediately, he straightened up. The drunken haze over his eyes faded somewhat in favor of an interested gleam. I feigned a reluctance to reveal what I supposedly had to tell, and just as I'd plotted for, made Bryn grow tense.

"Get on with it, Frey," he growled, clenching his fists. For the next few seconds, my forced hesitation fed his anxiety. "Spit it out!"

"Russet is alive." The immediate astonishment Brynjolf displayed was hilariously absurd. His foot began to rapidly tap under the table, betraying his impatience for more information. I supposed my glee was all too obvious when I went on. "Unfortunately." Brynjolf stiffened.

"What do you mean... 'unfortunately'?" He was wary, and I was glad to see he wasn't so drunk he couldn't listen.

"Russet was behind the entire operation," I lied, unable to hide a smile. It was likely my blatant glee for her so-called betrayal and lack of concern for her in the first place that swayed the infatuated idiot. "She fooled us. When we arrived at Snow Veil Sanctum, Russet lured me to the inner chamber where Karliah waited for an ambush. Your precious lass baited the hook well."

"How can you be sure you remember it all?" he challenged, skeptical. His dubiety towards my claim was not exactly part of the plan, but he would be child's play to persuade.

"That bitch almost cut me up herself!" I mimicked an angry tone. "Before she escaped, I found a note from her, saying that she was planning on eliminating us all until she became the Guildmaster." With that, I took out a forgery of the nonexistent note, having included the mark of Karliah and a replication of Russet's signature. As Brynjolf read over the letter, a myriad of emotions flitted across his face. Misery, regret, denial, and finally passionate rage.

"She charmed us all," Brynjolf shrilled, tearing the note into tiny pieces. He grasped his red hair and yanked at it violently. "Damn you, Russet!" I was beyond pleased at his acrimonious condemnation of the broad. Everyone in the Flagon watched warily as Brynjolf overturned a chair, shouting over his newfound hatred for Russet.

"What's wrong, Bryn? Had too much ale again?" the bartender questioned cautiously, halting in his attempt to clean a bloodstain off his counter. Brynjolf shot him a glare and continued to denounce Russet to all. This is going even better than I'd intended.

"If anyone sees that little witch, bring her to me!" Did I detect a hint of remorse? Reluctance to damn her? "I don't care how close you were, if you ever get wind of her, bind her up and drag her screaming!"

"Bryn, shouldn't you--" Brynjolf threw a tankard at Vekel, showing he still wasn't entirely sober. 

"Mercer told me the truth about her," Bryn growled, raising his voice so it carried over the entire Ragged Flagon. "She's nothing but a deceptive traitor!" Nervous chattering broke out. "She's been working with Karliah, my friends. Like I said, bring her to me!" A hateful scowl fit itself onto his face. "I'll deal with her then." He continued to yowl as I slipped away, laughing with derision as my entire plot came to fruition. I was the richest son of a bitch in history, the tart was dead while the only one who gave a rat's ass about her believed her to be a turncoat. Spoiling her memory was almost electrifying. One of us at the end of a blade, indeed. There was no one to stop me and no one to know.

I had won.