The Stormcloak Queen - A skyrim Fanfiction

[20] Its what makes Riften.

Storming up the worn and rickety wooden stairs, I stood on the edge of the market, looking at the ginger man selling potions. Falmer blood elixir. I doubted the potion did anything, but I was more interested in the man selling it.

The man selling it was Brynjolf. He was tall, even for a Nord. Quite like me in that aspect. He also had the same piercing blue eyes as me, the same nose, the same high cheekbones. Brynjolf looked like a masculine version of me, well except from the red hair. He got his flaming hair from our father.

I couldn't quite bring myself to believe that the brother I thought was dead or imrisoned by the thalmor was standing before me selling useless potions to gullible people.

And I hadn't even got a damn letter.

Walking over, I observed the market scene, then punched my brother square in the jaw.

People gasped, he clutched his face but waved the guards away.

"Nice to see you too." he groaned.
"You're supposed to be dead." I hissed menacingly.
"What a warm welcome." Brynjolf said, brushing off his fine clothes.

Still ridiculously wealthy after all these years. I'm going to hazard a guess and say he didn't come by it legitimately.

"You made me believe you were dead!" I hissed.
"Woah there lass! I'm sorry!" He said, throwing his hands up in surrender.
"Sorry doesn't quite cut it Brynjolf." I said flatly. "All it would have taken was a bloody courier."
"You have to understand..." He started softly and I cut him off.
"Understand what? Understand that you couldn't employ a courier? Couldn't have stoped me when I came to Riften? Couldn't have stopped someone from court?"
"Balgruuf knew I was alive." He shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal.
"That little shit!" I spat.
"I can understand why he would have kept it from you." He shrugged nonchalantly.

Oh my gods.

"I can't!"
"Well I'm exiled from Whiterun!" He hissed quietly, looking to see if anyone was listening.
"Not anymore your not! Your coming home and serving as Thane!" I said, stamping it foot slightly.
"Since when did you tell me what to do?" He said, laughing and rolling his eyes.
"Since as long as I can remember." I laughed slightly, letting my guard down. At least my brother wasn't dead. Still had explaining to do.

"Look, meet me in the ragged flagon, we can talk freely."
"I'm a gods damn jarl Bryn."

The wooden table was sticky, stained and rickety. The mead was stale and the food was bad.
The smell from the sewers wasn't all to good either.

The looks I was getting were anything but reassuring, I guess Orcish armour didn't exactly scream lowlife.

Bryn better hurry up.

"Whatever your selling, I'm not buying."

Delightful.

"Why drag me down here?" I sighed when he sat down.
"People are less likely to overhear." he shrugged.
"There were vagrants." I sniffed.
"If I remember, you can handle yourself just fine, despite your hammer being about as useful as skeever dung." He said with an eye roll.
"The imperials have my dwarven one." I muttered, though he heard just fine.
"Why do you always throw yourself into war? It never ends well." He said disapprovingly shaking his head.
"Shut up. Can we get to the reason we're really in the ratway?"
"I'm guessing you already know, lass?" He sighed, kicking back in his seat.
"I have suspicions, I'd rather they'd not be true." I sat up in my seat, countering him.
"They are."
"What would father say? Honestly Brynjolf?"
"What would father say to you? You've never done an honest days work in your life! You claimed you throne by betraying your cousin." He snapped.
"I fight for the Stormcloaks, I don't steal." I hissed.
"We both know you don't have a moral compass."

I don't dispute that.

"How did you get out anyway?" I sighed, rummaging in my bag for a stamina potion. it's been a long day.
"They're bad for you."he said, raising his eyebrows.
"You sound like Lydia." I said with an eye roll.
"She not dead yet?" He smirked
"Shut up! I quite like Lydia!" I said tucking a strand of hair that had escaped the bun away behind my ear.
"We both know you..."
"For the love of Talos..."
"I had a Lockpick." he shrugged.
"A Lockpick?" I said in disbelief. "Singular, one, a lonesome lockpick?"
"You see why I chose this line of work?"
"I think I do, but while this had been fun and all I need to save the world Thane Brynjolf."
"Save the world?" He said doubtfully.
"We skipping over the Thane part?" I laughed
"I'm used to that, saving the world? A touch arrogant, even for you." He smirked at me.
"Well you can afford to be when your Dovahkiin." I matched his smirk, quirking an eyebrow
"You always were destined for great things." He mused.
"Well got to go do those great things bryn, must dash, good luck with your outfit, your gonna need it!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" He called after me as I turned and sauntered out.

"You look like a massive twat!" I called over my shoulder.