There was nobody on the upper floor when he stepped inside, but there was evidence that Brynjolf had made himself a meal recently. Andante grinned. It was odd to see dishes left by someone else, when he himself so rarely ate any normal food aside from sweets.
He clumped down the stairs and kicked off his boots in the small bedroom, dropping his pack and the sack of coin for Brynjolf, the one he’d scooped up while planting that stolen gem in Whiterun, onto the bed. He hesitated for just a moment and then shrugged and slipped out of his clothing. Time to soak. Being a vampire had its advantages, but also its disadvantages, one of which was always being slightly cold. And Andante preferred being warm.
He peered into the master bedroom on the way by; it was empty.
Where is he, then? Did he leave? That would be disappointing in the extreme.
He smiled to himself and parted the curtains to the tub, then caught his breath.
Well, well. I wasn’t really expecting to see him in here but here he is.
Brynjolf was in the tub, leaning against the stone surround, head back and eyes closed, with a bottle of ale nearby. Andante just admired. He’d been imagining Brynjolf out of his armor for as long as they’d known each other. He was an older man than Andante, by at least ten years; but he was well built, with the broad chest and beefy muscles natural to the Nords. His long red hair was wet, lying in strands on his neck and back on the stone behind him.
Delicious. I’ve been with more beautiful men but… there is just something about him.
He found himself feeling a tiny bit intimidated, and that surprised him. Ordinarily, a good looking man in a bath was a situation he would approach without a moment of hesitation. But this was Brynjolf. He respected Brynjolf. He liked Brynjolf. He wanted his friendship with Brynjolf to continue and grow more than anything else, and yet he wanted this, too. He’d been imagining something like this for so long, and couldn’t bear the thought of doing something wrong by mistake.
“Well, alright lad,” he heard Brynjolf chuckle. “You’ve succeeded in getting me into your bath and corrupting me, now what do you intend to do?”
Corrupting him? Andante’s mouth curled into a grin. Well then. He has been into the skooma after all. My goodness. I wonder how I might work this to my favor.
“I intend to come into the bath and soak, is that acceptable? I promise I won’t try to take advantage of you.”
“Of course. You’re lying out your ass, lad, but of course.”
“You wound me to the quick, impugning my integrity. Well. First I’m going to get myself a brandy. I don’t know how you Nords can stomach that swill.”
He padded up to the kitchen and did just that, then returned to the bath with the letter to Brynjolf in one hand and his drink in the other. He slid in, perching on the stone bench, sipping his brandy and then setting the snifter down on the stones behind him. The warmth was wonderful. Andante slid the envelope from the Listener across the stone toward Brynjolf, looking at his closed eyes and grinning. “I have this message for you. From Dawnstar. Can you read it, or would you like me to?”
Brynjolf chuckled. “Hand it over. I think I can manage. It’s been a long while since I’ve had some of this and it’s hit me harder than I expected. It’s… quite nice, to be honest.”
“Mmmm,” Andante replied, smiling. “Of course it is.”
Brynjolf reached for the envelope, then opened it and read it.
And then he ripped it up and tossed it behind him with a strangled noise. He’d looked relaxed and comfortable a second before and now everything about him radiated anger and frustration.
“What… did it say?” Andante asked tentatively, not really expecting an answer.
“You mean you haven’t already read it?” he snapped.
“Well. I understand why you might assume that but no, I haven’t. I didn’t dare. Between the two of you I wouldn’t have liked my chances.”
“Sorry, lad. That wasn’t warranted,” Brynjolf murmured. “Basically, it said ’She’s alive.’”
Andante assumed that “she” meant the Redguard woman they’d all been searching for, but it didn’t matter. He was annoyed.
He was supposed to be relaxing. This was supposed to be a break for him. Whoever “she” is, she’s ruined it and I won’t have it.
Brynjolf stared down at the water for a time, took a drink of his ale. “She’s alive,” he murmured. “That’s good, very good.” He sat quietly like that for several moments. Andante sipped his brandy and watched, puzzled, but not wanting to disturb whatever was going on.
Suddenly Brynjolf hurled his ale bottle across the room. It struck the upper step that led out of the bath and shattered, throwing shards of glass everywhere.
“But she’s not here, is she?” he bellowed. “Gods damn the bitch, she’s not here!”
He buried his face in his hands.
“She’s not here,” he said quietly. He pulled his hands down over his face and dropped them into the water, then rotated his shoulders and blew out a breath. “What a gods damned mess.”
Andante was frozen, stunned. He could hear Brynjolf’s heart racing as he struggled to get himself under control.
What do I do?
“Um, is there anything I can do?”
“No, lad. There just really isn’t, not unless you know how to turn back time.” Brynjolf took another deep breath and blew it out, then leaned back against the stone again. “I’m sorry for exploding like that. I’m usually better at controlling myself.” He sighed. “And there’s not a damned thing anyone can do except what we’re already doing, looking for her. You met her once or twice, didn’t you, before she left? The Guildmaster?”
“She? You mean the Redguard girl? Wait – she was the Guildmaster? I thought the former Guildmaster was dead. I’m confused.”
Brynjolf shook his head. “No, no. The one who is dead is Mercer Frey, the old Guildmaster before her. His bones have been soaking at the bottom of Bronze Water Cave for some time now and we’re all glad of it. But yes, that’s her, the Redguard girl, as you put it. Dagnell.” He paused, and shrugged. “You remember Dardeh, yes? The Dragonborn? She’s Dardeh’s half-sister. She’s also the one who eliminated Mercer Frey. She left not very long after you joined us.”
He reached up behind him and took another bottle of ale from the stone shelf, opened it, and took several long swallows, then placed it back, carefully.
“She’s still Guildmaster. Technically. I am her Second, as I was when you met me. That didn’t change when she left. I’ve been Second for a lot of years and I like it that way. But I’ve been doing the job since she left because unless someone else steps up, it’s left up to me, and nobody has had the nerve to pass judgment on her, including me. The thing is, she hasn’t actually done anything to harm the Guild except – disappear.”
Andante struggled to close the mouth that was sagging open. “I know you told me otherwise, but all of this time I’ve assumed that you were actually the Guildmaster, Bryn.”
Brynjolf nodded, staring at the water. “I’m not surprised. She wanted me to have the job after Mercer… died… and I said no, but she found a way to rope me into it anyway.” He looked up at Andante. “Do you know, I hadn’t really thought very hard about why I wanted to go into your rather impressive stash until after I did. It’s been years and years. Decades, even.” He looked at Andante with the smallest grin. “It also happens to be the single thing that would bother her the most. I guess that makes me a vindictive son of a bitch. I don’t care. I’ve earned the right.”
“She dislikes skooma?”
“That would be an understatement. It made for some tense times with Guild business.”
Andante furrowed his brows, thinking about the exchange he’d just had in Dawnstar. “That’s… odd. The Listener has a rather vehement aversion to skooma as well, as I learned just recently. Thought she was going to have my hide when I offered her some.”
“Huh. Very odd,” Brynjolf said, frowning. “Well I suppose the Dark Brotherhood isn’t exactly in the import and export business.” Then he sighed and looked at Andante. “I’m sorry. I made a mess. I really thought I had all of this under control now and it seems that I was wrong.”
“It’s all right Bryn,” Andante said, “just relax. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing right now. I’m sorry to have been the bringer of upsetting news.”
Brynjolf chuckled and let his head drop backwards, stretching his neck out. Damn, Andante thought. I really should have found a meal before I came in. I’m hungry and that’s such a temptation right there.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brynjolf said. “It’s not your fault, and you did what I asked you to do. Thank you, lad. Unfortunately I’m not sure I could focus well enough right at this moment to clean up that glass. I’m seriously tempted to have another but that’s probably not a good choice.”
Andante chuckled. “Definitely not. Too easy to end up with, how did you put it? A real habit. But I understand. Tell you what. I’m going to get you another… what, ale? Mead? Brandy? I’m going to get you so relaxed that you won’t be able to resist me.”
I’m an idiot. What am I saying?
“Hmm. That’s an interesting idea.”
Andante stared at him in disbelief. What…?
“I haven’t had one of your fancy Colovian brandies in ages.” His eyes were twinkling, and he grinned.
Andante smiled and stood to leave. You’re cruel, Bryn. He reached down to pick up some of the larger pieces of glass as he reached the stairs, trying to see where the smaller ones were hiding so that he wouldn’t step on one by mistake. He heard Brynjolf clear his throat behind him.
“You know, that’s quite a view.”
Andante stopped still. Did he just…make a comment about my backside?
“Did you just say what I thought I heard you say, Brynjolf?”
“I did. I’m sorry, I thought you might have enjoyed the fact that I noticed.”
Andante turned and grinned at him. “I did indeed. You apparently know me too well.”
Brynjolf chuckled. “Of course I do.”
Andante went up to the kitchen, got rid of the broken glass, and filled a snifter with his best Colovian brandy for Brynjolf. And took several deep breaths.
Gods, this is not as easy as I had thought. He is teasing me. He knows what he’s doing. At least I hope he knows what he’s doing. Because if he doesn’t cut it out I’m going to end up just grabbing him, and I’m hungry, damn it all.
He made it back to the tub with Brynjolf’s drink and a mischievous idea. He handed one of the snifters to Brynjolf, then slid back down into the tub with a happy sigh. Nice and warm.
“Well, Brynjolf,” he began. “You are definitely very good at sizing up people, but you aren’t right about me. You see, I enjoy women just fine. A great deal, in fact, and often, if I can get away with it.” Brynjolf had closed his eyes again but had a smile playing about his mouth. “Women are so nice and soft. And they smell good. And they make the most delightful little noises when they’re excited.”
Brynjolf laughed. “Ha! Right, lad. You’re the voice of experience in this matter.”
Oho, so he doesn’t believe me? Then the game is most definitely afoot.
“Let me tell you about a thing that happened a couple of weeks ago, then, o doubtful one.” And the best part, he grinned to himself, is that it’s completely true, not a shred of it made up, and so many lovely details to share.
“I was sent up to Solitude on a job for our mutual friends in Dawnstar, and ended up in the Blue Palace. A wonderful excuse to wear some good clothing. I look good in blue, it seems, because the most delightful serving girl took especial note of me.” He sighed happily. “Gods but she was pretty. Blue, blue eyes, just like ice, and a perfect shape. Her hair was almost to her waist. Flaming red hair. A lot like yours, actually.”
Brynjolf grinned at him. Andante grinned back. He still thinks I’m just making this all up.
“Well, I found an opportunity to chat with her, and she took us down to a nice, quiet little room in the lower level where I took full advantage of the setting. There was a spot, just on the far side of a cabinet so that we were out of sight, and I pushed her up against the wall there. Nuzzled her neck, discovered how loose the bodice of that dress really was with her practically spilling out of it to begin with – as one does. Soft, I’m telling you. And kisses like…” he held up his snifter and swirled the brandy in it. “She was lovely.”
He stopped to gauge Brynjolf’s status. Yes, he is interested now. His heartbeat is telling me so.
“Then I made the most remarkable discovery, Bryn. The scamp wasn’t wearing a stitch under her dress and, of course, I just had to kiss more of her. All that lovely skin and me with such a sensitive mouth.”
Andante proceeded to describe just exactly what he had done. Just exactly, in exquisite detail; her shapes, her taste, all of the whimpering and moaning that had gone on. It was almost as enjoyable in the telling as it had been in the doing and the best of it was watching Brynjolf as he went along, him trying to keep his face composed while everything else about him was not. Yes, the girl had been trembling like a leaf on the breeze by the time he’d gotten finished with that part of the evening and it had been the most satisfying thing to just slide into her like a hand into a glove, and her ready and waiting.
“Oh and I always find it a good thing to make sure the girl knows how lovely she tastes, don’t you? A nice, long kiss…”
Brynjolf made a sound. Well there, Andante thought, trying hard not to laugh. I do believe I just had a whimper out of him.
“It’s really quite remarkable that we didn’t attract any attention, I think. I did some of my best work that evening.” What I won’t add is that once everything had reached a satisfying conclusion, my next kiss was on her neck and was, sadly, fatal. She did have very tasty blood, though. That was the most enjoyable contract I’ve ever fulfilled.
It was very quiet. Andante grinned.
“What, you didn’t notice that I came back to Riften rather… content?”
Brynjolf didn’t speak for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.
“All right, lad. I believe you now.” He shook his head and smirked. “You’re a cruel bastard, do you know that?”
Andante laughed. “Of course I do. I deserved some revenge for all the teasing you’ve given me since I’ve known you, including tonight, and don’t try to deny it.”
Brynjolf chuckled. “All right. I won’t.”
Oooh. Interesting. This is getting better by the moment. I hope I’m not reading too much into it.
“Now, none of that tale changes the truth, Brynjolf. I like women. I … just like men better. That much you got right. Including the fact that I was admiring Hofgrir the other night.”
Brynjolf laughed, the sort of laugh Andante remembered from when he’d first met him, big, hearty, and full of nothing but amusement.
Well it’s worth making a fool of myself to hear that again, he thought. It’s been a long time.
He reached over and patted Brynjolf on the arm, almost without thinking about it. “Enjoy yourself a little, Bryn. The goal for the moment is to relax and get warm.” He pouted. “I’m almost never warm enough anymore.”
Brynjolf leaned back against the back of the tub again, turned his head to the side, looked at Andante, and snickered. His reply left Andante sitting in the tub with his mouth hanging open.
“Well of course not. Vampires usually aren’t all that warm.”
“Uh…” By the Eight. He knows?
Brynjolf snickered and rubbed his eyes. “Do you think I’m completely stupid, lad? I’ve known what you are for a long time now. Not quite from the beginning, but close. There are a few spells that can influence a person’s mind, but you’ve never shown any signs of being that kind of mage. No, nobody but a vampire or a Nightingale could do what you do, and I know for a fact that you’re not a Nightingale. There are only three of us, and you’re not one of them.”
It was all very matter-of-fact, and Andante’s head spun. The silence hung there, over the bath, while he tried to collect his thoughts and struggled to close his mouth. Brynjolf is one of the Nightingales? Really? So that’s how he does it, those little nudges. My, my.
“I see,” he said slowly, “that I’m not quite as clever or well informed as I thought I was.”
“Andante,” Brynjolf said, closing his eyes again, “generally speaking, I know a person when I meet them. It’s why I’ve done this job for so many, many years. I have to make an exception now; it took me a bit longer to figure out your particular secret.” He grinned. “Still. I could see how nimble those fingers of yours are, slipping that amethyst right out of Madesi’s pocket just like it was your own. You’ve been a thief all your life, I can tell, even if you say you don’t remember. You want things, and wealth, and you want power. I thought I knew what had happened when you disappeared for a time and then came back, but almost never during the day.”
He opened his eyes and sipped his brandy, then smirked at Andante.
“That was your power talking. And it’s been getting stronger ever since. I could see the fire in your eyes. Which, I would wager,” he said, slipping Andante another sly, sideways glance, “are at this point a nice golden color under that illusion spell. You may fool almost everyone else in Riften but you’ve never truly fooled me. It took me a while to find out everything I wanted to learn, but I wasn’t fooled.”
Andante was stunned. He had nothing to say, just gazed at Brynjolf in awe and, if he were to be honest with himself, dismay that he hadn’t realized Brynjolf had long since recognized him for what he was. Pitiful. Amazing. That must have been what that huge smile was all about, a few nights prior.
“Well. I hardly know what to say.”
He did, actually; he always had things to say, and even the shock of being completely surprised wouldn’t stop him. He slid lower into the tub.
“So. It seems that all those occasions when you were giving me a hard time about my…indulgences, you really did know how I do it. There are definite advantages to this kind of metabolism. No poisoning.” He paused for a moment, considering how much to reveal. “And yes, they’re golden, my eyes. I don’t know how much you know about – us – but I’m what we call a Nightlord.” He’d bitten thousands of necks, taken more blood than most people could imagine, created other vampires in almost every part of Skyrim.
“Oh I see,” Brynjolf nodded. There he sat, calm, relaxed, apparently unaffected and unafraid. “You’re much stronger than I thought, then. That’s impressive, lad.”
“Mmmm. Well.” He looked at Brynjolf, gauging the situation, wanting to make sure his next words would be well understood. “There aren’t very many stronger, as it happens. A few, to be sure, but the number is dwindling. It certainly helps in my other line of work. Like that poor delightful serving girl.”
Brynjolf raised an eyebrow, quick to pick up on the implications of his statement. Andante grinned, sipped his brandy and set the snifter back down.
“Don’t worry. As much of a temptation as it is, I won’t do anything to you.”
Brynjolf chuckled, and gave Andante a knowing look.
What is that look supposed to mean? What does he think he knows that I don’t? I don’t like being confused.
Then Brynjolf sat up and turned to face Andante. “Show me.”
“What?”
“Show me. I want to see your eyes, lad. Truly, I’ve never seen such a thing up close and I want to.”
“Well… I suppose so.”
Don’t read too much into it, he told himself. Just go with it and see where it leads.
He drew power into his left hand and released it, allowing his illusion to dissipate. Now what is going to happen? His eyes were black, their irises a deep orange, the pupils glowing and golden. Some ran away at the sight of those eyes.
“Let me look at you,” Brynjolf said, leaning closer and reaching out to touch Andante’s face, gently tipping his chin up to catch his eyes in the candlelight. He heard Brynjolf’s heartbeat speeding up, and felt his own following suit at Brynjolf’s touch.
“Beautiful,” Brynjolf breathed as he dropped his hand, and Andante knew that it had been an honest reaction. “They truly are.”
Sweet Mara, he just told me I’m beautiful.
“Andante,” Brynjolf said quietly, his own eyes sparkling.
They’re glorious. Just like emeralds.
“What is it?”
“It’s several things, lad, and none of them can happen if you’re over there and I’m over here. Come here. Please.”
Brynjolf’s pupils were dilated, his heart rate accelerated.
It’s the skooma, yes? That’s all it is. His system is just stimulated.
No, that’s not what it is.
Andante was surprised at himself. He’d been picturing this moment for months and yet here he was, hesitating.
It would almost be easier if I couldn’t hear his heart, because then I could pretend he wasn’t excited.
“Um…”
Come. Here. Now.
His mouth dropped open. Brynjolf hadn’t spoken but it was as clear a command as he’d ever experienced, the merest whisper of what he’d heard a Nightingale could do, the power to send a person into a killing frenzy with a simple thought. He was sitting there, the slightest curl of a smirk on his mouth, eyes flickering with amusement. And oh yes, Andante felt the frenzy rising in his gut, if not a frenzy to kill. What control the man had. It had been the tiniest of nudges, less than a tendril of power, and it spoke to him as strongly as if the man had shouted in his ear.
So. We’re both powerful. What we could do together boggles the mind.
He slid closer, and Brynjolf pulled Andante onto his lap. He reached up to brush a loose strand of hair out of his eyes. His eyes were serious, face calm, as he ran one hand down Andante’s cheek. Andante leaned into the warmth of his palm. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this is happening.
“Bryn. Do you really think this is a good idea? I mean I’m…” I’m hungry. This isn’t a good idea.
“Shhh,” Brynjolf said. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax.”
His gaze never left Andante’s as he began running his hands over him, slowly, down his chest, following every muscle. He leaned forward and left a few light kisses along Andante’s neck, onto his shoulders and down his chest.
I can’t believe this, Andante thought. He could feel his heart pounding. He didn’t want to do anything but wait, see what Brynjolf intended.
“This is good,” Brynjolf murmured, seemingly almost to himself. “I don’t know why I’ve waited so long for this.”
Andante bit his lip as Brynjolf’s thumbs slowly traced a rough path down his stomach, just under the surface of the water and then stopped, tantalizing, his hands resting atop Andante’s thighs, never looking away from Andante’s face the entire time.
“Gods, Brynjolf,” he moaned, in spite of himself. What is he doing, Andante’s mind flailed about. Does he not know what a bad idea this is?
Brynjolf chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Was there something else you wanted, lad?”
“Um…”
Andante made a sound that was something between a moan and a gasp as Brynjolf’s warm hands continued their explorations. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he’s done this before. This isn’t a new experience for him. He knows what he’s doing as well as I do. It was like dancing without moving, slow and sweet, and he couldn’t do a single thing except feel.
I thought I was the one seducing him. I’ve been toying with him for months and he gave no sign of being interested. Finally. The only person I can ever remember truly wanting. Sweet Mara, I wasn’t expecting this. Out of nowhere, completely out of nowhere, and more than I could ever have imagined happening.
I will have it, however. I will most definitely have it.
He opened his eyes and shifted himself around to straddle the big redhead, then ran one hand up behind Brynjolf’s neck, moving closer to let their skin touch, taking his mouth. Brynjolf’s tongue explored the fangs that couldn’t be hidden, not from this, and he made an excited noise in the back of his throat, then pulled back. His eyes were flashing, and he smiled.
“My, my, lad,” he said, moving so that his mouth was next to Andante’s ear, his breath warm on Andante’s neck. It put chills up his spine. “Those are some impressive fangs you have.”
Andante threw his head back and laughed, to be met by Brynjolf’s mouth slipping down his neck and along his collarbone. Andante tasted Brynjolf in return, under his chin, down to his chest, and then up again to the side of his neck, the sheer, warm humanness overwhelming him, all the while lost in the sensations of having the man’s big hands all over him and touching him in return.
Don’t get too greedy, Andante. Make him feel good but don’t get too greedy.
Another kiss, this one more insistent, urgent. It went on like that, for minutes that seemed like hours.
“Andante,” he heard next to his ear, an intense whisper. “I want to…”
“Oh yes. By the gods yes. Please.” Andante knew he was babbling but didn’t care, and then he was gasping in pleasure, and so was his partner. He arched backward for a moment as they danced together, a part of him wondering what he had done to deserve something so perfect.
“I’ll stop if you want,” Brynjolf murmured a few moments later, but not stopping and not sounding like a man who wanted to stop. “Just tell me.”
“No, don’t. Don’t you dare,” he whispered. I’ve waited so long. I want it to last.
“You don’t have to hold back, lad. Do what you want.”
He closed his eyes and lost himself in the pleasure that he’d been dreaming of ever since he’d met the man, then leaned forward again to explore Brynjolf’s neck with his mouth, tasting the salt of his sweat, feeling his pulse beneath his lips, and finally after long moments he couldn’t bear it any more. He didn’t even stop to consider what he was doing. He just sank his teeth into Brynjolf’s neck and tasted the sweetness that was his life’s blood.
Brynjolf gasped, and moaned.
And then he laughed.