Brynjolf looked out over Lake Honrich, watching the lengthening shadows and listening to the quiet lapping of the water up against the shore. He could see the tiny forms of guards patrolling Goldenglow Estate. It was still producing honey for Maven Black-Briar even though its former owner, Aringoth, was long since deceased, killed by Sayma when she had first arrived in Riften as Dagnell. It was so long ago now that he could barely remember what life had been like then.
But he knew what it was like now.
He wasn’t under Mercer’s thumb anymore. He was doing everything in his power to remove himself – and the Guild – from under Maven’s thumb. And yet it felt as though the weight of the world was still firmly lodged on his shoulders.
Two children and a wife. And yet here I sit.
Sayma had been outraged, when he had followed her into their bedroom. She’d kept her raspy voice as low as possible and yet he’d been vividly reminded of the fact that his wife was an accomplished assassin and a very dangerous woman indeed – far more dangerous than Maven, in fact, because she had no need of beefy bodyguards or hired hit men to do her work for her.
“How could you even be thinking of such a thing, Brynjolf?” she had hissed, her eyes flashing.
He’d focused himself on remaining calm. “I just explained it, lass,” he murmured. “I’m likely the only one who might have a real shot at taking Edwyn down.”
“We have two children! What about them?”
“What about them, Sayma? They are fine, healthy children. They have you and they have an extended family of wonderful, caring people around them.”
Sayma’s voice shook. “They have my brother. The Dragonborn. He has children of his own to take care of. And who knows what all he’s gone through may have done to him? Roggi has told me he’s worried about Dar, more than once.” She tossed her hands up in the air. “They have Roggi. He’s an inquisitor, Bryn. Hardly an excellent example, don’t you think?”
“And their mother and father are an assassin and a thief. What’s your point, lass?” He felt his temper beginning to rise along with his temperature and had to hold himself back from saying something more biting.
“But they won’t have their father if he’s a… a…”
He had tried to approach her, to take her into his arms, but she had pushed him away.
“Don’t ‘lass’ me, Brynjolf. I can’t believe you’re even considering such a thing.”
“Sayma,” he had said quietly. “If we don’t get rid of Edwyn Wickham, they may not have me anyway. He hates me. He wants me dead. Me, and Ulfric. And if Ulfric dies a violent death, what do you think that will do to Roggi? And Dardeh? And Frina, even though we don’t know her that well? She has a babe of her own to think about. What kind of life will all our children have if everyone around them loses their way?”
She had looked up at him with tears standing in her eyes and nodded.
“I understand what you’re saying, Brynjolf. But you’re not responsible for everything in the world. Don’t you love me?”
He had sighed at the unfairness of the question. He understood where it was coming from; but it was unfair, and it made him angry in spite of himself.
“I love you more than you could imagine, lass. I kept going when I felt like ending it all, because I wanted you back so much and I just knew you were out there, somewhere, if I only looked hard enough. And that’s exactly why it’s important to rid the world of Edwyn. I want you and Chip and Qara to have a good life and not end up in a world where Edwyn Wickham has taken over everything.”
She’d stood there with her head down, her hands balled up into fists, and he’d watched as two or three fat tears had dropped down onto her clothing. She was practically shaking as she spoke.
“I understand, Brynjolf. But right now I’m too angry. I – want to be alone tonight.”
“Alright,” he’d said. What else could he do, after all, than comply with her wishes, after dealing her such a shock? “I’ll go sleep at the Cistern tonight. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”
He’d done that, while Dardeh and Roggi spent another night at Honeyside and Ulfric and Frina stayed in the guest house in Riftvale. Iona had taken one of the spare beds in the children’s’ room, both to give the royal couple privacy and to help Sayma with the children. The next morning, they’d all decided it would be best if Ulfric and Frina spent one more day away from Windhelm, and that Dardeh and Roggi would escort them home when they left.
Brynjolf had stayed mostly out of the way during the discussions, saying as little as possible and checking Sayma’s face from time to time for softening. But she was still livid. That was clear. So he’d left the compound quietly and without fanfare, and had spent the day cooking up more of Vitus’ special skooma blend. He’d done the same the following day. After notifying Delvin that there was a batch ready, he’d headed directly to Honeyside.
And here I sit, waiting. I don’t have any better answers, and nobody else offered any, either.
It was deep in the middle of the night when it finally caught up to him.
I’d love to be able to get a decent night’s sleep, but…
But he’d been restless, and uncomfortable, and it had been several nights since he’d been able to relax. He rose from the stool where he’d spent the past several hours and stepped back, intending to go back inside and at least try to rest.
Suddenly the world went red. He grabbed the railing and held on as tightly as he could, for his head spun and his stomach threatened to empty itself. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth – and then unclenched his jaw as he felt them beginning to extend, to lower, promising to pierce his lips if he fought them.
I should be dying. Why am I not dying? Was I not truly cured, and I’ve really been undead all this time?
No, that can’t be. The fact that Qaralana exists says I was cured.
The mild fever that had been dogging him for the past three days dropped away in the cool night air. Sensations heightened. He felt his mind opening, expanding once again with knowledge that was familiar to him but which had been hidden behind the veil of mortality. He felt energy flowing through him that had been absent for the many months since Vitus had cast his spell on that beach in Dawnstar.
Fitting, wasn’t it, that we were in Dawnstar when Serana agreed to turn me again. I wasn’t lying to them the other night when I told Frina I was just a regular man. I just didn’t tell them that the process of turning again was already happening. They would have made me visit a shrine, or swallow a potion. Between Dardeh, Roggi, and Ulfric I’d have never stood a chance.
He opened his eyes and gazed at his left hand. Drawing power into it he watched the flickering, blue power accumulating; then he pushed that power forward, down toward the lake, and grinned as the Flames of Coldharbour settled and continued dancing across the grasses with its deadly cold fire.
Shor’s beard. It’s back. It’s all back.
At least I think it’s all back.
He rose from his stool and jumped down the stairs, running along the shoreline and up onto the hillside behind Faldar’s Tooth. He almost hurt himself doing so; for his running was blindingly fast and what he’d intended as a tiny hop up onto a rock had ended up as a leap so far into the air that he couldn’t see where he was about to land.
Land he did, however, reaching his hands forward to balance himself as his knees bent, leaving him crouched on all fours like a beast, listening to the sounds of the night. That was when something else struck him.
He was ravenous.
He tilted his head to one side and concentrated. Slowly – faintly at first and then building in clarity and volume – the steady, strong beat of a human heart filled his consciousness. His mouth began to water. Without giving it a second thought he jumped his way to the top of the hillside and peered down at the lookout’s platform. He couldn’t make out exactly where his target was; but in a familiar act of reflexive focus he shifted his vision and the darkness became bright as day to him.
Unconsciously he reached up to his face and rubbed his eyes.
“Lello,” I’ll bet. Bright and glowing.
For just a moment there was a twinge of regret. Then he pulled the shadows in around himself and crept down the slope, moving up behind the bandit who stood looking out over Lake Honrich. He rose silently behind the man, pushed his head to the side with one hand and grabbed his shoulder with the other, and sank his fangs unerringly through the skin and into his jugular vein.
The hot, thick, sweet, metallic blood flooded his mouth and he drank greedily, feeling the warm life flowing into and through him, heightening all his senses. The prey squirmed a bit, for a moment, but then was still; and once it was empty Brynjolf lowered it to the ground and dashed away, leaping over the fort’s upper walls and running to the top of the hill once more.
Well. It’s done, then. There’s just one more thing to know.
Without knowing how it happened – for he never had actually known how he had done it – he collapsed into himself and then allowed himself to explode outward. His human shell disappeared, to be replaced by a great gray being a third again larger, its muscles huge, those behind its shoulder blades grasping the base of a pair of enormous wings. He looked down at his hands to find the fingers long and slender and tipped with claws the size of daggers. He grinned to himself, then turned his head to the side and set his sights on a particular aspen tree. Where he had stood, a swarm of bats appeared and leapt the distance between the hilltop and the aspen. Then he reconstituted himself into the great gray Vampire Lord.
It’s all here. All of it. All I need now is my…
Another twinge of regret, of sorrow, stabbed him. He saw a vision of Volkihar Castle, and a dark-haired Nightlord draped in blue seated on the throne that he knew Edwyn Wickham now occupied. His memory flitted to the southern side of the Pale Pass and he could almost feel the weight of that same Nightlord in his arms, sobbing like a child as his memories returned to him.
I can’t wear it, the red. I can’t do it. I wore that for him.
He glanced down at the rings on his hand, one each for the two great loves of his life. Sayma would forever be his wife, his partner, and the mother of his children – and he loved her more than he could ever have imagined – but the ruby ring, glinting with the fire of the man who had made it, would protect him now as he tried to accomplish that thing that, possibly, he alone could do.
I wish you were here, lad. I don’t know whether I can do this without you. Stealing something? Certainly. Setting up a con? I could do that. Killing the strongest vampire I know of? I wish you were here.
We can’t let him get to Dardeh. Ulfric will help, if he can; but we need to keep him safe. Roggi’s a strong man, but he needs to protect both Dardeh and Ulfric, to say nothing of Frina and Sayma.
He sighed, and focusing his energies resumed his human form and then cast the illusion spell in the off chance he would run across someone he knew as he returned to Honeyside. He could almost hear Vitus’ voice whispering to him across time, telling him that he could never let them see what he really was.
“I’ll be more careful this time, lad,” he murmured as he trotted up the stairs onto the deck. Slipping inside, he made his way to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe.
He’d left a number of pieces of clothing there when he and Sayma had moved to Riftvale Lodge, pieces he’d collected with Andante that he hadn’t felt comfortable taking to their new home to serve as a constant reminder of that period of time. Among these, pushed far to the back of the closet, was a set of supple, lightweight grey robes topped with pauldrons. It was the same armor the nobility of Volkihar Castle wore, imbued by Vitus with the same protections against flame that he’d placed on the red armor. “In case you want to mix it up sometimes,” he’d said, grinning his infectious grin with his eyes sparkling.
Brynjolf pulled the gray armor out and held it up, feeling those magical energies running through it. I’m as much Volkihar nobility as any of them. Not that I expect them to acknowledge it.
This could be his uniform, now. He started to take himself out of his Guild Master armor and then paused.
There was one major issue with either of these sets, the red or the grey. As much as he needed their enchantments – particularly fire protection – as soon as he put one of them on the people he was close to would realize what he’d done.
It screams ‘vampire.’ They’ll all find out eventually. It’s inevitable. But the longer I can delay it…
He dug around in his wardrobes and chests some more. Tossed in one of the drawers under some common clothes he’d intended to use as smithing gear was a handsome set of armor they’d found in an out-of-the-way spot along the coast. It was reminiscent of both the Guild armor and the Nightingale armor while being identical to neither of them.
Brynjolf was hardly a mage, at least not under normal circumstances; but he did have a professional thief’s skill at alchemy. He had practiced enchanting things while living with Vitus and could, at least if he made potions to help, approximate the protections he needed. They wouldn’t be as strong as the ones on the vampire armor, but they would do. He started grinning.
A few enchantments, a little tweaking here and there and… yes. This will do nicely. It will be easy to pass off as me just wanting to look a little bit more pulled-together in my old age.
It took him several hours to get things the way he wanted them. Then he eagerly shucked himself out of the Guild armor, soaked for awhile in the hot water of the bath, and dressed himself in his new outfit. He grinned at himself, knowing what Andante would have said and done in response to his new look; but then he thought of the circumstances that had prompted this change and his smile faded.
I’m sorry, Nocturnal. I know you can tell what I’ve done and I know you’re going to be angry about it. But understand that if I was certain there was anyone else who could do what I must do, I wouldn’t have done it. The Guild’s in good hands. The best. Sayma can do everything I can do and more, but she can’t go to Volkihar. Trust her and Karliah – and Delvin. We’ve got the business started and it’s going to be even better, soon. And know that I’ll still hold up my end of the bargain as long as I can do it. And if I can’t, for some reason, well…
He sighed.
“If I die, look to Roggi. He’ll keep an eye on Chip until he’s old enough to join the Guild himself. A little bit of me will keep the contract, one way or another.”
He went back out onto the deck and took a seat, resting his elbows on the railing. He ran his tongue over his fangs. Then he dropped his head into his hands.
“Shor’s beard,” he whispered. “What have I done?”
___
Edwyn made his tired way into the lower level of Proudspire Manor and heaved a heavy sigh. It had been a frustrating and exhausting few days and he wanted nothing more than a nice, long soak in his tub, followed by – if he was lucky – a good long sleep. But he would have to wait, to work around the inevitable confluence of Elisif and Geor. He frowned in annoyance.
At least I should be able to bathe. It is not yet late enough for Elisif to return.
He walked upstairs to check on things and found Jordis in the kitchen. His mouth watered, and he realized that he was peckish.
I believe I shall feed before I bathe.
Jordis flinched when she saw him, and pulled back into the corner.
“The Jarl isn’t here yet, my lord,” she said nervously.
“That’s good,” he said. “Now turn your back.”
She cringed. “Must I?” she murmured.
“Yes!” he growled. “You must.”
Jordis nodded and turned, but was visibly shaking.
By the mace of Molag Bal what is wrong with this one? It’s not as if I’m going to ravish her.
He cast his calming spell on Jordis, then leaned forward and refreshed himself on her blood. In spite of the spell she shook, clearly fearful. When he was finished he tsk’d and turned away.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, girl. I’ve not harmed you in the least. Stop sniveling.”
“Y-yes, my lord,” she said softly, hugging her arms to herself, but not turning to face him.
He threw his hands up in disgust and stomped his way back down the stairs to the bathing room. He found the bath already occupied – Vyctyna had stripped down to her smallclothes and was seated on one of the stone benches. He admired her for a moment and then spoke up.
“I intend to join you,” he said. “I trust this will not be an issue?”
“As long as you keep something on, Boss, it’s fine with me,” she said, grinning at him.
“Of course. I would never subject you to anything that made you uncomfortable.”
Yes, and more’s the pity. Agryn does have such good taste. It’s been difficult to restrain myself all these years.
“And where is your counterpart, my dear?” he asked as he began removing his boots and gauntlets.
“He ran out to find a snack.” She giggled in her most appealing way.
So we are alone? How… unfortunate.
Edwyn finished disrobing and waded into the deliciously warm bath, taking a seat across the space from her. “Ahh,” he said, sliding down into the water. “This is just what I needed. After our encounter with the dragon I find myself unusually sore and tired.”
“You two killed a dragon?” Vyctyna’s voice was tinged with both interest and concern.
“Not precisely. I killed a dragon, with the help of a conjuration. Your partner was nowhere to be found. He says that he was fighting some Vigilants. Honestly, I was quite disappointed in him. He should have been by my side.”
“Um…” Vyctyna said no more than that but was frowning.
Edwyn didn’t wait to find out what she intended to say. “It was the most irritating thing. I thought that, perhaps, the Hollowfangs might have had some insight into how the Dragonborn absorbs the life-force of one of the creatures. It makes perfect sense that the power is in the blood; after all, that is how we vampires propagate ourselves. So I attempted to feed on the beast. It was a futile attempt. I’m fortunate that I did not chip one of my fangs.”
Vyctyna snorted. “You … tried to feed on a dragon? What are you, nuts?” She laughed at him.
Edwyn felt his temper flaring.
“What did you say?”
“I asked if you have lost your everloving mind, Edwyn,” she said flatly. “A dragon’s hide is one of the toughest things in the world. I’ve heard of the best smiths making armor out of it. And weapons of their bones. You don’t just… stick your fangs into a dragon. How ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous, am I?” Edwyn felt as though he was outside himself. A part of his mind heard the bitter chill in his voice; and yet the flames of his anger rose higher and higher, burning him from the inside out. He rose to stand before her, and she stood to meet him face-to-face.
How dare she. She is nothing but an… underling. I am the handpicked Lord of the Volkihar Clan and the husband of the Jarl of Solitude! How…dare…she…
Vyctyna’s eyes flashed. If Edwyn had been paying attention, fully paying attention, he would have recognized the anger of a woman who was much stronger than she appeared on the surface.
“Yes. And frankly I’m a bit concerned, boss. I thought the idea was for you to be High King, and we’ve been making decent progress on that. But all you do these days is obsess over this Dragonborn business and it’s silly. You keep getting Aggie nearly killed and I won’t have it. You’re not Dragonborn. You’re a vampire. And if you don’t stop wasting all your time and energy on that instead of paying attention to what you’ve always told us was your plan – Harkon’s plan – you’re going to lose it all!”
“SILENCE!” He roared. He saw red. He pointed toward the outside world and howled. “I am your lord and master, and if you cannot treat me as such I will throw you out there and leave you to the Vigilants and their silver weapons!”
“Is that so?” she said, crossing her arms and looking unimpressed. “And you will lose the handy little thrall I created for you, to do the job that you can’t do yourself, Master.” Her voice positively dripped with sarcasm as she shook her head. “You don’t really think he will stay and do your bidding, do you? You’ve been around long enough to know how this works. If I leave, he follows me. If I die, he’s not a thrall any longer. Besides, oh great and powerful lord, I think he likes Elisif. As himself. I think she likes him, too. I’m not so sure they haven’t figured it all out on their own. If she’s not pregnant, it surely isn’t from lack of trying.”
“You stupid bitch,” he growled, stepping forward. A part of his mind observed, quietly, that he must look terrifyingly menacing at that moment, for Vyctyna raised her hands as if to ward off attack. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Perhaps it is time that you and I come to a full understanding of who is in charge here.”
He reached for her arm and pulled her to him. Before he really was aware of forming any sort of plan he had placed his other hand firmly behind her neck and taken her into a vicious embrace, grinding his mouth against hers. Vyctyna struggled against him, and made noises of resistance; but strong as she was she was no match for him, not in any sense.
Ahhh. I have wanted to do this as long as I have known you, my dear. You are indeed delicious.
There was a huge roar behind Edwyn’s back. Startled, he released Vyctyna, who skittered away. He whirled and found himself face to face with Agryn Gernic, the Vampire Lord.
“Take your hands off her! And step back. Or I will tear you into so many pieces they will never even know your miserable body was here in this place!” Agryn raged.
“Agryn. Calm yourself, sir,” Edwyn said, holding his own hands up before himself, defensively. He couldn’t very well transform to face Agryn on equal ground; there were moments involved in which he would be utterly vulnerable and with Agryn as angry as he was, he didn’t dare risk it. “It was nothing more than a harmless prank.”
“Harmless prank?” Agryn’s oddly-distorted voice howled. “You laid hands on Vyctyna! My Vyctyna! How could you? Have you lost your mind?”
Have I what? Have I lost my mind? How dare these two? Hundreds of years of planning and working, all according to Harkon’s plan, and now they dare question me?
He heard another loud sound behind him and took a step backward, closer to the wall, only to find himself flanked by two Vampire Lords. Vyctyna didn’t look nearly as delectable as a huge, grey beast; but she certainly looked more dangerous.
“You tried to take me. Against my will. This is the end of it, Edwyn Wickham. I’ve followed you for so long now and done whatever you wanted me to do but not that. Never that. I belong to Agryn. Do you understand me? You may… not… touch… me!”
Both of them moved closer to him. Both of them were snarling. He found himself with his hands up, trying to fade backward into the wall, and unable to focus any part of his mind long enough to do any of the things he might reasonably do to escape, to shield himself, or to reassert his dominance over them.
“It was just a joke!” he cried. As soon as the words left his mouth a part of him laughed silently. A joke. Do you really think they will believe that? Ever? What have you done, Lord Wickham? The voice in his head telling him that sounded odd, a strange mix of his own voice and Harkon’s; and he found himself shaking his head in confusion.
“It’s over, Edwyn,” Agryn Gernic said, his voice only barely something other than a growl. “I am done with you. You have no consideration for anyone who is not yourself. I should have left you decades ago. I am finished. Do you understand me? It. Is. OVER.” He looked at his partner hovering above the bath and nodded. “Let’s go, Vyctyna.”
They turned and left the bath. Edwyn stood stock-still with his mouth open, listening; a few moments later he heard the sound of the door closing.
What have I done?
Surely they will be back. We haven’t worked this long and this hard for them to simply… leave me.
He blinked, slowly looking around himself, and realized that Elisif would be returning to Proudspire soon.
I can’t deal with her right now. I must leave.
He dressed himself, hastily, and slipped out the door into the night.
___
They’d reverted to human form as soon as they left Proudspire. Agryn was practically incandescent with anger as he pulled Vyctyna by the hand out into the streets of Solitude and down through the back entrance beneath the tower. Once they had cleared the doorway and were standing on the roadway, he turned to her.
“Come on. Let’s cross to the other side of the inlet.”
They transformed back into their Lord forms and flew across the water to stand on the far shore. Several mudcrabs took great offense at their presence; Vyctyna conjured a familiar that took care of them, while Agryn turned to face her.
“Are you alright, my love?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m madder than a wet hen, Aggie, but I’m fine. I can’t believe the nerve of that man!”
He blew out a deep breath. “I can. I truly can. He’s not right any more, Tyna. It’s like he’s lost himself somehow. He put me out in front of the Dragonborn and almost got me roasted alive and then barely acknowledged it. He gave me a hard time for not covering his ass from a dragon – while I was being stuck by silver arrows!”
She grabbed him by the arms and peered at him. “Are you ok?”
“Yes, I’m fine. But he’s crossed the line. I will never serve him again. Never. It is time for us to strike out on our own, Tyna. If you’ll still have me.”
It was hard to say such a thing. He hadn’t been lying to Edwyn when he’d told him, not so long before, that he was a true friend. It hurt more than he could have imagined to acknowledge that the man he’d trusted and admired for at least two centuries was no longer the same person he’d trusted and admired. It was frightening, too; for who knew what support Edwyn might be able to muster, to come after them?
That vampire we met on the road. He was right not to trust Edwyn.
Vyctyna smiled, and touched Agryn’s face. “Aggie. You know I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere except where you go. It’s not the first time I’ve ever had a man try to force himself on me. I could have handled him if I hadn’t been completely caught off-guard.” She shuddered, and wiped a hand across her mouth. “Ugh. I don’t know what he was thinking.”
“I do,” Agryn growled. “And he should have known better. Let’s go. We’re going to fly down the coast to Windhelm and then take a carriage to Riften.”
“Don’t you think he’ll follow us to the Crypt?”
“He might. But if he thinks about it he’ll think better of the idea and back off. We’ll be safe there for a bit, at any rate, and I have a couple of ideas brewing. If they don’t pan out, well, we can head to Cyrodiil.”
“I’m with you, Aggie. Lead the way.”
They transformed to their winged Lord forms and traveled along the frigid Sea of Ghosts. Hours later, they stood together in the old crypt south of Riften, contemplating what had happened to them and what the future might hold for them.
Whatever that future would be, it would not include Lord Edwyn Wickham.
