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

The Pursuit Pt. 2

They found Russet's body a day later. Some say she was poisoned, others claim it was black magic. But both Brynjolf and Karliah knew the real reason. Russet died from a broken heart.

Only those closest to her came to the funeral. Even P--

Just kidding! :D
Did you think that was real? I'm an ass, we know...

WBE: 1,888
WAE: 3,787

____

((1st of Morning Star, 4E 203))

The next morning, I felt blissful relief as I awoke in a plush bed. I was free... for eight seconds before it all sank in. If I'd been standing, then there was no doubt in my mind I'd have collapsed onto the floor. As it was, I laid there gasping like a fish out of water. It appeared that my movements could have been described similarly as I writhed about, twitching and groaning. My cheeks were hard from the salty tears I'd shed hours before.

A few minutes passed as I laid there, contemplating whether or not to stand or return to sleep in Goldenglow. I had two choices, and I disliked both. My mind ran wild. Brynjolf... why? Why him? 

Then again, I should have known not to trust someone I'd only known for a few months. This was proof of what I'd set aside. No one is to be trusted, none at all. Until years have gone by, without a single lie or manipulation, where lives have been put at risk for your sake, there is no point in believing in anyone but yourself.

At this consideration, I exhaled shortly through my nose, the air stopped slightly by a sorrow-induced plug. What was I to do when that damnable man turned me away, so roughly and harshly? I hated him for it. Self-pity is no excuse for lazing about and refusing to return, I told myself. Now stand up, you pathetic excuse for a savior. For a Companion.

The Companions. What would they think if they knew where I was, what I was doing? I walled up that part of my mind, desperately trying to focus on what was right instead of what was wrong. Then again, what's right? Even the voice in my head sounded depressed. Besides, I turned my back on the Companions long ago. They likely wouldn't care anymore. I'd be another thief for them to slay.

Ignoring the screaming in my limbs to remain still (likely caused by the extensive "exercise"), I forced myself to my feet, shaking slightly when I placed my weight on them. Stumbling to the wall nearby, I had to lean for at least a minute or two before my body managed to gather itself up and react. 

With slow movements, I left the estate, nearly falling twice. Along the way, I tried to convince myself that my cautious movements and automatic whimpers were nothing more than results of a long night. Sadly, it seemed that I couldn't lie to myself.

It was too difficult to force Brynjolf out of my mind, so I gave in to my mind's desire to fill myself with thoughts of him. However, with a bit of persuasion, I managed to twist it into something darker, something far more full of hatred. Every kind memory was burned in the fire of my anger. Every smile, every teasing touch, every lesson I'd ever received from him was gone in a second. There's a fine line, indeed.

I knew that I'd have to face Brynjolf sooner or later. Here, I steeled myself for the inevitable confrontation. My chest was tearing itself apart, disliking the combination of desperate memories and cruel hatred that fought for domination. 

The pavement shone like silver from the rain that I'd unintentionally conjured the night before. Out of habit once again, I headed for the back of the Temple of Mara. I pressed the button, the trepidation of meeting the eyes of my fellow Guildmembers-- Who are you kidding, Russet? You're only afraid of meeting Brynjolf-- freezing my legs.