Elder Scroll series 1. Chapter 1

"Did you and Karliah have a falling-out, lass?" Brynjolf asked, though the answer was rather obvious – Laela sat at the bar in the Flagon, downing a tankard of mead. Her fifth, Vekel signed, and Brynjolf knew. Rubbing her back gently, he sat at the bar next to her. "Do you want to talk about it?" He murmured, as Vekel set a tankard in front of him.

Laela shook her head. Very well. She would talk when she was ready. During her time with the Thieves' Guild, they had become very close, and their friendship was very strong. Downing her mead, Laela grumbles that she never wants to talk about it again. She rests her head on Brynjolf's shoulder, and he takes a sip of his mead. "It's okay, lass." "No," she groans, rubbing her temples and pouring herself some more mead. "I messed up and lost one of my best friends, probably forever." "Don't be so hard on yourself, Lae," Brynjolf murmurs, attempting to comfort her. "You don't understand, Bryn. She's gone. She went to stay in Nightcaller Temple. She's not going to come back."

Brynjolf sighed. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" Laela lifted her head from her folded arms for a split second, and her eyes seemed to light up. "I'm not sure," she grumbled, uncorking another bottle of Black-Briar Reserve and downing half of it. "You should probably slow down," Brynjolf nudges her, and she protests. "No way. I don't wanna remember any of this." "You know you're going to remember it anyway." Laela sighed, defeated. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the ass, Brynjolf?" He chuckled. "All the time."

* * *

It wasn't that Karliah didn't like Laela. Hardly. They'd been best friends literally all their lives, and strong ones, too. It wasn't any of the typical things that pushed relationships away or wedged friends apart, like mutual differences or fights could. It was just fear. Taking that kind of step could bode ill for their friendship, and that was the last thing Karliah wanted.

She felt rather awful about the way the situation had unfolded, especially because she felt she was running away from the issue, from her best friend. Maybe this had a good side. Laela was an agent of Nocturnal now; perhaps she'd come back to the temple to commune with Nocturnal. Then Karliah could sort this mess out. And if Laela didn't return, Karliah could always send a letter. Letters worked, right? Mabe Brynjolf could break the news?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Laela was just a friend. Not just a friend, but a sister, and that was all. Laela was a good friend, and she needed it to stay that way.

* * *

"Laela," Brynjolf bit his lip, flushed. "I don't think this is a good idea." "Well, I do," Laela growled, canines grating roughly over the hollow of his neck. "You've had a lot of mead, lass." She bit his neck, and he elicited a moan in response. "Mead just makes it easier to do things I already wanted to do. Like _you_." Laela chuckles into the warm flesh of Brynjolf's neck, tangling one of her nimble hands into his rusty red hair.

"Come on, let's go," Laela purred. "Go where?" "Honeyside. There's no way I'm gonna fuck you in the cistern where Vipir can see."

Iona must have been out running errands, because she wasn't home. That didn't bother Laela, though. In fact, it did just the opposite. She kissed him with a fierce passion that the redheaded thief didn't know she was capable of, and that turned him on. He pulled her tight against his him, making her moan softly. He kissed her roughly, pushing her onto the straw and furs bed.

He managed to get Laela's armor off, buckles undone and the cowl pulled off, revealing her long, curly tresses – rather unnatural for a Dunmer, but he loved it. It complimented her dark eyes, and looking at her face only spurred him on. She looked great in her Nightengale armor, and even better lying beneath him, dark blue flesh soft and faintly marked by midnight blue scars along her body.

Laela smiled softly, pulling Brynjolf close and undoing the leather straps of his Guild armor. She pressed searing kisses to his neck, lifting the armor over his head, along with the hood. Brynjolf slowly moved her hands to his crotch, where he bulged against the soft leather. When they were both in their underthings, Brynjolf cradler her head in his hands, kissing every inch of her, nibbling her collarbones, licking her sensitive, elongated ears. When his tongue grazed the cartilage of her ear, she let out the sweetest moan he'd ever heard, and he pulled her even closer, one of his hands massaging her breasts.

"Bryn," Laela groaned beneath him, eyes blazing. He acknowledged her plea by removing the last of their garments, nibbling her thighs and kissing softly at the pale bluish-pink flesh between them. She groaned as his tongue met her lips, cold against the heat between her legs. He continued licking and sucking softy, her juices clinging to his facial hair.

When he decided she'd had enough, he positioned himself over her, sliding inside as she sighed in pleasure. With each thrust, they moaned, together, louder, breathing raggedly and exchanging kisses and rough welts from nails digging into flesh. Brynjolf's pace quickened, thrusts harsh and short, until they climaxed, Laela's nails embedded in his shoulders and their lips joined, riding out the climax for all it was worth.

* * *

"Run a job with me, Bryn. Like old times…?" The redhead met Laela's longing, nostalgic gaze and shrugged. "What kind of job?" She smirked, nose crinkling as a laugh followed. "Whatever Delvin gives us. He's been talking about some job in Solitude that sounds pretty important." Brynjolf could see why she was smiling, and he found himself grinning as well. Solitude was always ripe for picking. "You had me at 'Solitude', lass."

Delvin had given them the job that would be the most fun in a city like Solitude, plus a few extras in case they needed more of a thrill. Usually only five hundred septims' worth of goods was enough loot, but for the pair, Delvin made it a thousand – he encouraged a difficult job. Hard work was good work and good work was the most fun.

The pair got a room to share in The Winking Skeever, settling down at the bar for a quick bite. "I guess we'll rest up today and start the job tonight. Don't want to fall asleep climbing through a window or hiding in a bush," Laela chuckles, taking a bite of her bread. "Not that you would fall asleep climbing through a window anyway, lass. There aren't any here to climb through."

The two were disguised as an adventuring couple, just passing through. The ruse wasn't really necessary, but it was better to be safe than sorry and in jail. Brynjolf enjoyed it, not that he would ever admit it – nobody needed to know that the fiery Dunmer was his favourite partner for any reason other than her thieving talent.

They retired for the night to their small, shared room, where Laela began to remove her armor, and replace it with nightclothes. Brynjolf tried to busy himself so he wouldn't make her uncomfortable, since leaving the room was out of the question. When she was finished, she curled up in the bed with a book, leaving him to remove his Guild armor and crawl into the space next to her. He pulled her close and reveled in the dark blue flush of her cheeks, pushing his nose into her hair and smiling.

"Bryn… are you enjoying yourself?" Laela purred, while he chuckled into her neck. "Aye, lass, I am." "Good." She set _Advances in Lockpicking_ aside and turned to face him. "How about another reason for you to enjoy yourself?"


	2. Chapter 2

Brynjolf woke from a rather peaceful slumber to find his arms around Laela and her face buried into the crook of his neck. Rousing her tenderly, he kissed her shoulder. "Up, lass. It's time for work." She yawned and stretched, sleepy eyes fluttering open and dragging one of her hands through her hair. As Laela washed her face in the bowl of water on the dresser, Brynjolf pulled on his armor. "Who do you want to hit first, Bryn?" came her voice; muffled by the scrap of linen she rubbed her face with, and he grinned in response. "You've been mentioning your affection for the forge, how about we find some materials and you can prove you're as good as you say?" "You want me to prove it? After the years I spent in Windhelm making weapons to afford food, I have to _prove_ it to you?" Laela chucked, feigning incredulity as she pulled the dark leather of her armor over her legs. "Only because you've never forged a damn thing since we met, yes," Brynjolf teased, sliding leather straps through iron buckles and tightening them into place.

They continued to tease each other playfully even as the slipped outside into the warm, clear night, Laela's hand brushed Brynjolf's more than once before he linked them together. He leaned over and murmured in her ear, "You don't really have to show me how good your smithing is. I believe you." He paused momentarily before adding, "I mean, look at how good of a thief you are. Once you learn something, you really _learn it. _That's what I like about you." Laela seemed pleased by this, because she squeezed his hand gently before pulling him towards Castle Dour. "I'm going to show you how well my smithing is anyway, Bryn. Let's get some ebony." "Ebony, you say? If this is how the night is going to go, we're going to end up with less loot than I thought!"

* * *

They were feeling ambitious, but the pair managed to stay away from the Blue Palace for the night, instead tackling the other minor jobs Delvin had pushed their way. A few changed ledgers later, they were back in their room in the Winking Skeever, a pack full of ebony ingots and bags of septims. Laela flopped onto the bed, laughing with satisfaction. "This might just be one of our most successful little escapades, I think! I doubt Delvin will believe we got it all in one night," She settled down and looked up at the ceiling, sighing heavily. "I wish there was a river nearby. I feel like I need a bath. Yuck." "There's always the docks. Care for a swim before bed, lass?"

Laela left her armor in a pile on the docks, diving headfirst into the cool water before surfacing for breath. She started to scrub herself clean with a little scrap of soap, and after she was satisfied, she rubbed what was left of the soap into her hair, attempting to lather and clean it all at once. She could hear the soft calls of the hawks overhead, and she flipped over, floating on her back. "The stars are always so nice," she murmured to Brynjolf, who was treading water beside her. "Aye, they are." "They don't look any different than the stars I used to see in Vvaardenfell, to be honest." Laela remembered that the skies were just as dark, but maybe not as blue, but the stars were still there and they were still the same now as they had been then.

"You never told me what it was like there, Laela." "I know. It's a long story and sometimes it's still frustrating to think about. I still regret not staying with my parents." "What do you mean?" "When Dagoth Ur, er, the Red Mountain erupted, the leaders of the five houses decided we needed to pack up as many people as possible and leave. A mass exodus, in case we couldn't survive the aftermath. Karliah and I were both to leave with the others, along with a few other of the childen. There were maybe seventy people out of our town that got to leave. My parents were not among them." "Why not?" Laela sighed. "I suppose that's what bothers me the most – of all the people that were important in our town, my parent were among them. I mean, my family wasn't one of the Houses, but we devoted everything to our town and helping others. Somehow that wasn't enough, and I had to leave without them."

Brynjolf was silent for a long while. "Lass… Laela. I'm sorry." "Bryn, it's history. Even if they were still alive, I couldn't change what happened. I miss them still, but I know that even they wouldn't want that to keep me from living now. They may or not be proud of who I've grown up to be – hell, if they met me now they might not even recognise me, but I'm not going to try and live up to what I think they would have wanted, especially when I don't know what they'd expect of me anyhow." Laela swam over to the dock and pulled her armor into the shallower water to clean it. "I just hope and pray to the Tribunal that they'd be proud of me no matter what happens." She rubbed her calloused fingers over the soft leather and dunked it underwater a few times before arms wrapped around her waist in a tight hug. "I'm sorry," Brynjolf breathed into her neck, eyes shut tight against her dark flesh. "I think the fact that you are this strong is the only reason your parents would need to be proud of you. You're a fine woman, whether or not you're a thief."

* * *

"Brynjolf, you can't have gotten all of this gold in one night. This has to be at least a thousand septims, not even counting the ebony Laela brought." As expected, Delvin was reluctant to believe that the Dunmer and russet-haired Nord had nicked all of the gold they'd dumped on him, especially not in one night. Laela and Brynjolf did fantastic work, there was no denying that, but this was a ridiculous amount even for them. "I prayed to Nocturnal beforehand," Laela had chuckled before walking off with a wink. "I'll balance the ledgers later, Delvin. First, I'm going to see to it that Laela shows me the smithing "talent" she says she made a living off of in Windhelm." "Oh, really, eh? Good luck with that. Hope you didn't bet on it, because with the gold she brought in, Nocturnal's obviously got her back, and you're going to lose."

* * *

The flames flickered and glowed bright, pulsing like a breathing being. Laela was pumping the bellows and preparing the metal. Brynjolf leaned against the cold brick of the alcove the forge was built in, and he and Arnskar watched the Dunmer intently. At first it seemed she was a little lost, but she quickly found her way and began to hammer at the white-hot metal, the metallic sound ringing throughout the Flagon. "She certainly knows her way around the forge," Arnskar commented, as Laela dipped the metal in the water trough nearby and began to examine her work. "Seems that way," Brynjolf nodded. The unusually tall Dunmer was rather absorbed in her work, now moving to the grindstone to sharpen the slender black dagger she had produced. "Have you ever thrown a dagger, Bryn?" Laela asked from her seat. "No, I haven't, lass." Before he could process it, the sound of metal slicing through air was heard before the dull crunch of a blade embedding itself in wood. The dagger was now lodged firmly into one of the barrels by the cistern's pool.

"What – Laela. You just." "Brynjolf," Laela huffed, hands on her hips, "I told you I was going to make you a dagger, and I told you it was going to be a good one. Now go get it before I make another and throw it at you."

* * *

A/N: I suppose this is the end of it - I'm not too unhappy with the ending, but you can tell me what you think.

Thank you for reading~


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Elder Scroll series, Romance