Dagnell headed home to Honeyside, then downstairs to kick off her boots and peel herself out of her Nightingale armor. It was nice, but she intended to slide back into her Guild armor. She had a couple of plain robes in her wardrobe; grabbing one of them, she scooted into the tub, hoping that the warm water would help her relax. Her hair needed to be washed. The rest of her needed to be washed. She did those things, then sat at the bottom of the tub, water up to her ears. She felt warm and clean. But she wasn’t relaxed.
I am insane, she thought. It’s not the first time I’ve thought that, but this time I’m certain of it. These are not the acts of a sane human being, especially one who was dead-set on getting to Cyrodill just a few months ago. I should have been packing to leave but I just asked the head of the Thieves Guild to marry me. And he agreed. What is going through my head?
She got out and dried off, then dressed in the robe and padded barefoot around the house fussing with little things. She arranged books in the bookcase, made sure her few jewels were still safely stowed in the strongbox, checked to see that the forge was still glowing. She looked around, hoping Brynjolf wouldn’t object to living here with her, because she surely wasn’t going to live in the Cistern and have the entire Guild aware of their married life. There was everything they could need here, it was comfortable, and it was just a few steps from the Guild.
Back upstairs, she ground some ingredients that she’d been neglecting into potions and checked on the food stores, pausing occasionally to shake her head at the absurdity of what had just transpired. She fixed a light meal and sat by the fire to eat it, staring at the flames. She had no idea what Brynjolf had meant by “soon.” It was warm and cozy by the fire, though, and slowly her thoughts stopped racing and her tension started to fade.
A click brought her out of her reverie; the door opened quietly. Brynjolf filled it, blocking the light, but there was no mistaking him.
“I see I need better locks,” she said, pretending to look cross.
He chuckled. “I thought I should come to see what it’s like here if we’re going to… Do you know, I’m having a hard time even saying it.”
“You’re having second thoughts?”
“No. I just never thought I’d be in this situation. I’m actually amazed that you aren’t the one having second thoughts. Sorry I just let myself in.”
“As though I could keep you out, thief. I like this house, and I like having you in it. I never thought I’d be saying I want to live in Riften but I do, and I want to keep you here with me. What have you to say about that?”
He looked around in appreciation, taking in everything. “I can’t believe that I’ve never actually been in this house before. Delvin has, and some of the others, but not me. I think it will do. It’s not full of cobwebs and grunge,” he said, grinning.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you.”
“Not ever,” he agreed.
Dag led him down to the lower level, where he toured the smithy room, the enchanting room, and the small extra bedroom, nodding as he took them all in.
“I like this,” he said. “Maybe I’ll be able to work out some frustrations on a bit of steel now and then, give old Balimund a run for his money.”
“Could you, indeed?” Dag asked him mischievously, leaving just enough ambiguity in her tone to let him wonder what she meant.
He swatted at her. “I made a fairly decent apprentice-level smith once upon a time. I’m sure it would come back to me if I ever had the time to practice.” Dag found that mental picture intensely appealing, Brynjolf in something other than black leather and sweating over a bit of white-hot steel. She was very warm, and it wasn’t simply because of the forge.
His eyes lit up when he saw the tub. “Ahh!” he said, with obvious appreciation. “That will be a treasure after a long day, for certain, lass. A nice bottle of ale and a warm soak for these old bones? I could get used to that.”
“To hear you talk a person would think you were ancient. I don’t see an old man here.”
“I don’t know how old I am, lass, not exactly.” He turned to look at her. “I never had family to tell me such things. But near as I can figure it I must be closer to forty than to thirty.”
Dag had a twinge of sadness. We’re all just a bunch of orphans, aren’t we. She stepped closer to him and poked him in the chest, three times.
“I. Don’t. Care.”
He smiled again, then looked over her shoulder to the room behind her. His eyes twinkled with mischief.
“And this is…?” he said, walking into the room with the big double bed. Dag hesitated for a moment before slowly following him in, to find him standing with his back to her, looking into the wardrobes on the far side of the room.
“You know perfectly well what this is, Bryn. I’ll wager you’ve seen such a thing once or twice in your life.”
Brynjolf turned to face her, grinning because he’d already undone all of the straps and buckles on his armor’s jacket. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms gently around Dag, and she slid her hands under his leathers, onto his chest and down his belly, just exploring his shape. He was muscular, hard, with just a sprinkling of red hair, his skin surprisingly soft, and he was very warm. Stendarr’s mercy, she thought. I shall now die and go to Sovngarde a happy woman.
His voice, that deep purr of a great beast, rumbled next to her ear. “I have seen such a thing, but I haven’t seen it with you, and I don’t want to waste another night playing games.” As usual with Brynjolf, it was not a question, but a statement.
“I don’t either.”
As Dag fumbled with the front of her robe, her fingers refusing to do what she intended, he finished removing his leathers. Dag stopped and stared. He was, to her eye, magnificent, every inch of him from tip to toe. She had always expected that, really, but…
“Not bad for an old man,” she murmured, to be greeted by a mischievous smile. He knows how fabulous he is, the bastard. Always figured he did. She suddenly laughed, seized by a thought that had to be said.
“So do you really make love like a saber cat?”
He laughed again, the big hearty laugh. It is a good laugh, Dag thought. I want to hear it forever.
“Well now. I’m fresh out of Falmerblood Elixir at the moment, but let’s see,” he replied, and helped her shed her robe.
It happened that Brynjolf was anything but a gentle lover. In fact, he was a bit startlingly opposite that. He was experienced, that much was clear, and he knew exactly what he wanted and how to give her what she wanted. Dag found herself responding in kind, the accumulated desire she hadn’t recognized before finally finding an outlet as they were utterly consumed by doing what two thieves did best – taking what they wanted to have, exuberantly, joyfully. It was as though they had known each other through several lifetimes and had finally found each other again, and it felt familiar, comfortable, and right.
After a great while, they lay beside each other, catching their breath. Brynjolf turned to look at her and laughed.
“Well, well,” he said.
“What was that?” Dag asked, grinning back at him.
“I’m not quite sure,” he snickered. “I’m sorry, lass, I think I haven’t behaved very well in the past few hours.”
Dag laughed. “It’s all right. The feeling was mutual. I hope you could tell.”
He grinned at her. “It did seem that way, but we’re new at this part of things, aren’t we.”
“I think I’m glad that this room is underground,” she snickered. They had rather made a lot of noise. “Although I wouldn’t put it past DELVIN,” she yelled, “to have been listening at the door up there.”
“Well he got his money’s worth if he was,” he laughed.
Dag smiled at him, then snuggled in close. Look at that, she thought, admiring them tangled together. Another pale Nord. She sighed happily as he slid one large arm around her and pulled her onto his shoulder. “I still can’t believe I just walked up to you wearing an Amulet of Mara. I think I was crazy. I wasn’t even sure you’d notice. Or that you’d be offended by the whole idea. Really, I’m just not very important in the grand scheme of things, and you… are.”
“You did catch me by surprise a bit, the way you led me into noticing it,” Brynjolf said. “That was a slick maneuver.” Then his voice became soft.
“I want to tell you some things, and I don’t know how well I’ll do it because, like I told you, I’ve learned to keep things to myself. So just listen, alright?”
Dag nodded.
“I knew you would be a natural for the Guild the first time I laid eyes on you. It’s my job to find the new recruits because I’m good at spotting them. I’m not just bragging about that, lass, before you give me a hard time about it.”
Dag laughed.
“I’m not kidding. I knew something was up from the moment you walked into the city and I heard you laugh about the Falmerblood Elixir.”
“You heard that??!”
He grinned. “Of course I did, lass, just like you heard me. That sell works on lots of people, but I’d never had someone outright laugh at it before. You knew a con when you heard it, and that just made me all the more certain I was right.”
He stopped to brush a light kiss across her lips and push a stray strand of hair out of her face.
“So I watched you, before you joined the Guild and after. I knew you were important, more important than most of the others I drag into our little family. I just didn’t know why. Until you and Mercer were fighting…” He trailed off, his eyes raging.
“I thought he was going to kill you right in front of my eyes. I couldn’t stop fighting with Karliah, and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. I would have torn him to pieces with my bare hands if only I could have gotten to him, and not just because of what he did to the Guild. That was when I finally figured out that you were important, not just to the Guild but to me. But I thought that by that point you probably hated me, after … well, after what happened before, in the Cistern. I wouldn’t have blamed you. I wasn’t ever going to say a word to you about it.”
“I wanted to break your nose, but I didn’t hate you. I tried to, but it didn’t work.”
He laughed. “It’s odd, though.” He paused, obviously considering his words. “I don’t know exactly how to say this and I hope you won’t take it in the wrong way, but – I’ve never had much trouble finding someone to warm my sheets before, lass.” Dag smiled. Many women tended to fall for dangerous men and he was nothing if not that. She was glad of it.
“Yes. You’re a wonder. I remember.”
He grinned. “You’ll even hear some of the rogue’s gallery down in the Flagon try to tell you I bedded Vex. Not that I didn’t try, mind you, but it didn’t work out. Her eyes were elsewhere and she made sure I knew it.”
“Vald,” she said, rolling her eyes. She could imagine how unequivocal a rejection from Vex would be and it made her want to laugh.
“Aye. My greatest failure, you might say. Back to the point, though,” Brynjolf continued. “You were different.”
Dag heard the echo of her first steps into the Ragged Flagon. “This one’s…different.” She smiled at him.
“I didn’t want to just bed you like some tavern wench. Well, at first you made me too annoyed to even think about it, but even after I did, I didn’t know how to even speak to you about it, and that’s the first time that’s ever happened to me. There weren’t any words for it. Trust me, if I’d had them I would have tried. I was convinced you weren’t interested, and then after my little outburst, well.” He grimaced. “So I just put it to the back of my mind.” Then he smiled. “Except once. You told me I have beautiful eyes. It was very hard to let go of you right then.”
Dag groaned. “I really said that out loud.”
“Aye.” He stopped and looked at her again, questioning. “I still don’t understand why you picked me, lass. I’m just an old thief. I’m not good looking. And you’ve seen the state of my wealth after Mercer got done with it.”
“Brynjolf,” she said, running her hand down his arm. “You don’t have to give me things. I can take things. I always have. You and I, we’re good at making coin, and we’ll be even better if we’re working together. The wealth will take care of itself.” She paused, thinking.
I don’t even know what words I need, myself.
“I don’t think a person can choose who to love. All I know is that I don’t want to be without you, not any more. You’re… my partner. You’ve been that ever since you asked me to help frame Brand-Shei. You’re my friend. I love you. It doesn’t have to make any sense, it just is.”
He smiled. “I can’t honestly say that I ever thought I’d hear someone tell me that again and mean it.”
“Well I do. I’m just as surprised as you are. I certainly never expected to find anyone again. Just like you said, it never works out. When I first got to Skyrim I met someone up in Kynesgrove who I really cared for, but that didn’t work out either.”
“Oh.” He looked at the ceiling. “The ‘friend’ you took with you on the Honningbrew job,” he said, stressing the word.
“Yes.” She cast him a sideways look. “What, were you actually jealous?”
“Truthfully? A wee bit, I think, but I wouldn’t have admitted it even to myself, even if I had realized what it was.”
“He’s a good man, far too good for the likes of me. But it doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ll never see him again.” She couldn’t help it; she knew she looked sad for a moment, even though she tried to hide it. Brynjolf just watched her, thoughtfully. She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts.
“It really is all Mercer’s fault, you know. When he tried to kill me at Snow Veil Sanctum he made it clear that he was going to make you hate me. I don’t remember ever feeling so frantic before. I don’t ever want to feel something like that again.” She shuddered a bit just remembering it.
“I hardly know what to say. Except that if I have my way, you won’t ever need to feel like that again. I want you to be mine, lass, and I’m a fool for not telling you sooner.” He held her even tighter.
“I’ve been yours for an awfully long time now, Brynjolf, in one way or another.” She had started to say that as a joke, but it was actually the truth, and saying it made her happy. “I just have one question,” she asks.
“Yes lass? What is it?”
Dag knew the answer to this question already. There was no reason to ask it, but she wanted to hear him say it anyway. “Was it – this – alright? Will I do?”
“Dagnell,” he whispered, and kissed her, gently.
When the kiss was finished, Dag smiled. “What did you just call me?”
“You told me I could call you that, you minx. What should I call you? Thief? Boss?” He kissed her forehead. “Shall l call you wife?”
“Call me lass,” she whispered. Brynjolf smiled, and began to show her again just what he meant in the way that said they had always known each other.
Much later, Dag rose with the idea of making a meal. Brynjolf was sound asleep. She smiled. I’ll let him sleep, she thought. I’ll let him sleep as long as he needs to sleep.
