The Wager

She smiled in satisfaction as she hit the tip of the x. He returned her smile as he held out the dagger. “Very nice. You’ve definitely earned this.”

She went to take the prize, saying, “Thank you for a joyful evening, Brynjolf.”

As her fingers closed around the blade, Brynjolf moved his hand to envelop hers, his eyes searching hers as he responded, “We don’t have to let this night end, lass.” Then he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers a gentle kiss meant to test the waters.


She sat alone in the corner, a tankard of ale in front of her, her fourth since he started watching her. A couple of the local men tried to make conversation with her, but they soon gave up and walked away. His eyes followed the length of her legs, shapely and firm. Her black hair laid upon her shoulders in waves, some cascading down her voluptuous breasts. He felt a stirring within as he continued watching her, sizing up his mark. When she headed up the stairs he made his move, grabbing a couple bottles of mead and following her. He caught sight of her as she sat at the upstairs table, just out of view. He walked up on her quietly, saying softly in his lilting voice, “You look as if you’re a little light in the pocket lass.”

A pair of piercing emerald green eyes glared at him and her voice, cold as the winter’s winds off the water, “And what does that matter to someone who has no business in my coin purse?”

“Aren’t you a feisty one? How about a wager, lass?”

“I don’t have time for this,” she said as she turned back to her drink. From the corner of her eye she saw him set an ebony dagger that pulsed with a fire enchantment and bore what appeared to be a family crest upon it’s hilt outlined in gold with a diamond on each side. She set her tankard down and looked back at him.

“I thought that’d get your attention.”

“Damn straight it’s got my attention.”

He set the bottles down and sat in the chair across from her, smiling all the while. “Ever throw knives?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“How about we stick this poster on the wall and see who can hit the mark the most times,” he said as he pulled out what she saw was a wanted poster and took a piece of charcoal from the table and drew an x in the middle of the paper over the words “Thieves Guild”, then drew a circle around it. “The thing is, if you miss the target area, you have to take a drink. If you hit the target the most, you keep this dagger.”

“And if you do?”

He smiled even broader. “Spending the evening with you.” At her confused look he continued on, “I just watched you reject half of the men of Riften. I want to be the one who doesn’t get rejected.”

He was rewarded with the flash of a smile as she laughed. “You’ve got a bet.”

He took the poster and walked across the room. Taking another dagger out from inside his robes, he speared it to the wall. Then he reached into another inner pocket and withdrew a set of throwing knives. “How many paces shall we make this?”

“Three paces to begin with then increase a pace after every five turns?” she answered after a moment of thought.

This time it was him who raised an eyebrow. “The lass likes a challenge,” he said as he marked off three paces. He looked at her as she approached him; he liked the sway of her hips as she walked, he liked the mischievous glint to her eyes as she smiled sweetly at him. He thought about how he wanted to get to know her body intimately and not for the first time tonight.

“And how shall we decide who goes first?”

He held out the knives and said, “You may have the honor.”

Taking the knives, she walked to the spot he had marked off and assumed her stance. She felt the weight of the knife and took aim. He watched as the knife flew from her fingers and implanted itself in the middle of the x with a soft thud. Then he watched as she did the same with the other two. “I think I may have underestimated you, lass. I might just have my work cut out for me.”

For the next couple hours, they continued throwing knives, drinking and talking until Meliandra threw the last knife for the last time. She smiled in satisfaction as she hit the tip of the x. He returned her smile as he held out the dagger. “Very nice. You’ve definitely earned this.”

She went to take the prize, saying, “Thank you for a joyful evening, Brynjolf.”

As her fingers closed around the blade, Brynjolf moved his hand to envelop hers, his eyes searching hers as he responded, “We don’t have to let this night end, lass.” Then he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers a gentle kiss meant to test the waters. He was answered by her resting her hand on his cheek as she leaned forward and returned the kiss. He immediately deepened the kiss as he pulled her body into his; his hold was strong, protective, possessive. He could taste the sweetness of the Black-Briar Mead they’d been consuming upon her lips and he hungered to taste more of her. He ran his hand up her back to her neck and into her long black hair. He wrapped her hair in between his fingers as he claimed possession of her mouth. His hunger grew as she returned his kiss with heated fervor. He felt himself hardening; he had to have her. He broke the kiss and breathing heavily said, “We should take this to your room, lass. I don’t particularly care for giving a show.”

She nodded and led him to her rented room. She barely had the door closed when she felt his lips on the back of her neck, his arm wrapping around her waist, his free hand slightly gripping her throat; he felt her pulse race beneath his fingers. As he looked over her shoulder he caught sight of the Amulet of Dibella she wore beneath her dress; a smile spread across his face. He fingered the chain, drawing the amulet out and said, “I think I might be in for a treat tonight.”

A throaty laugh emerged from her as she looked at him through her eyelashes. “That makes two of us.”

He turned her around to face him, pinning her to the door as he crushed his lips down upon hers. His hand hiked the bottom of her dress up, then his fingers sought out the valley between her legs and was rewarded by discovering her wet in anticipation. He slipped a finger into the wetness and began massaging the inside of her womanhood. He felt her moan vibrate as he thrust his tongue into her mouth; he was throbbing hard as she welcomed his exploration with matched fervor.

She reached for the ties that held his fine coat closed, then her hand expertly found its way beneath his pants after quickly loosening them. She wrapped her slender hand around his thick shaft and started stroking it. After a moment, she broke their kiss, nipped his lip and smiled at him before trailing her fingernails down his chest as she slowly got upon her knees. She flicked the tip of his member with her tongue before taking him into her mouth, eliciting a pleasured humming from the Nord. As she suckled on him she massaged the ball sack; he hardened even more.

“By the Eight, Meliandra,” he breathed heavily. He ran his hands through her hair gripping both sides of her head as he gyrated his pelvis; the feel of her lips on his cock as it slid back and forth between them was pure ecstasy. “Keep this up and you’re going to make me cum too soon,” he warned.

“Oh, we can’t have that now, can we?” she taunted playfully.

He stepped back and said, “Why don’t we move this to the bed, lass?” He removed his boots and finished undressing while watching her walk over to the bed. She started to pull her dress over her head when he said, “No. Leave it on. I will take it off.” She turned to look at him, a slight smile hiding upon her lips. “Get on the bed and lay back.” At her hesitation, he said, “Do as you’re told, Meliandra.”

She walked over to the bed, cast a furtive glance at Brynjolf and climbed atop the bed, pulling the bottom up above her supple rear. Once again, she cast a sidelong glance at the man. Her green eyes gazing out behind long, thick eyelashes. Her lips curled into a seductive smile as she laid back on the bed, watching him.

Brynjolf undressed, watching every move this young Breton made. He was throbbing hard and needed to release. He gazed at this ebony haired beauty in front of him, licked his lips in anticipation and walked toward her. He climbed onto the bed by her feet and began trailing kisses on the inside of her legs working his way up. He kissed her nether regions eliciting coos of pleasure from the girl. His tongue flicked through the folds of her womanhood and he felt her fingers going through his hair. He continued kissing his way up her belly until he was at her breasts. With one hand, he massaged her breast while he took the other in his mouth, suckling upon her. He smiled as he heard her moaning in pleasure. He moved his hand back down to the warmth between her legs. He slipped a finger into her and started stroking her insides. As he listened to her breath quickening he slipped a second finger in to be rewarded with even more increased breathing and the gyrating of her hips.

After a moment, he stopped and worked his way back down. He tasted her fully this time, not some small taste but rather he relished the succulent taste of her. While his needs were easily satisfied by any number of the local women he wanted her tonight and possibly the next night. There was something about her that grabbed his attention from the moment he saw her. As the night progressed he had found himself wanting to ravish her body completely. His desire was growing stronger the more she writhed beneath him as he enjoyed the nectar of her womanhood until her body started to shake with her powerful orgasm.

Satisfied that he had pleased her orally, he crawled up atop of her, trailing his lips across her fair stomach. He playfully bit her perky nipples, eliciting a moan from her lips before continuing to trace his lips up her chest and into the hollow of her throat. She smelled of wild flowers, intoxicating to his nostrils. He threaded his fingers through her hair as he crushed his mouth upon hers, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth, dancing with hers. He held himself above her for a moment; his hunger had been building to this point and now it was about to be sated and he wanted to savor these last few seconds of anticipation. He plunged himself into the wetness he had tasted; she cried out in pleasure, her hands upon his chest as she watched him watching her. As he thrust in and out of her, she clawed at his chest leaving red marks all over; this only made him thrust harder and faster, his hunger only growing deeper as he felt his excitement building more and more with each thrust he made.

He felt her body start quivering the way it had earlier. He thrust harder still, grunting as he slammed into her. She gripped the furs under her with clenched fists as she cried as her body convulsed with her second orgasm.

Brynjolf could not restrain his own climax any longer as his body went rigid, his warm seed exploding into her wetness. He moaned in pleasure as his release flooded her; he thrust himself inside of her a few more times, then he collapsed on to the bed next to her.

He laid there a moment catching his breath. He pulled the young woman into his arms as they laid there, both silent save for their breathing. She laid her head on his chest and he absentmindedly stroked her hair. “I think that that might have been the best loss I’ve ever experienced,” he chuckled.

“It was more of a win-win situation,” she replied as she stifled a yawn.

“Aye, lass, that it was.”


Meliandra pulled her boots on as she listened to Brynjolf. After a morning romp, he started telling her about his outfit and how if she wanted to make more coin she should hook up with them. She listened intently; she wanted to set sail from Skyrim and forget her time here, but she needed to make sure she could set herself up for a while. All she wanted was a small farm where she could be alone with her alchemy studies. “So, what do I need to do to join your little group?”

He sat down next to her on the bed, bending over to pick up his boots. “There’s a Dunmer in the marketplace, Brand-Shei, sells odds and ends. He needs to be kept quiet so we need to put him jail. I just need someone to steal a silver ring from the Argonian’s stall and plant it on the elf. I’ll create a distraction so that you can get into the safe where Modesi keeps this ring. The rest is up to you, lass. Can I count on you to do this?” He looked at her, blue-green eyes smiling.

She ran her long slender hands through her hair, a sigh escaping her lips. “I’ll do this, only so I can find out more about this thing you’ve got going.”

He winked at her, the smile in his eyes now also upon his lips. “I had a feeling you would. You come down to the marketplace in a bit and let me know when you’re ready, alright, lass?” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

She smiled at him, a mischievous look in her eyes then watched as he left her rented room. She sat back thinking about the last month. After barely escaping Helgen she had made her way to Riften, earning some gold by picking up odd jobs along the way. Now there was this chance meeting. If there was anything her mother had taught her was never to look a gift horse in its mouth. She picked up the dagger she had won off the redheaded Nord and examined it and estimated how much gold she’d get from it. Twirling it in her hands she gave thought to perhaps slaying in Skyrim or moving on to High Rock.

Sighing she stood up and dressed, opting to wear a dress with a cowl, sliding her steel daggers into the folds at her waist. She slipped a gold ring on her finger, a slight hue pulsating off it, and proceeded down the stairs.

She slipped out the door, glad to avoid the Argonian’s gaze. She walked over to the blacksmith and inquired if he could fix her box, a nice hunting bow she had bought off a Khajiit she came across on her way from Whiterun to Riften. Unfortunately, in a scuffle a couple days before arriving in Riften part of the wood had splintered when she came across a couple bandits on the road. Satisfied with the estimate he gave her, she promised to return later with the bow. She walked toward the city center where various stalls were set up; she saw a woman selling armor and weapons and on either side, she saw the Argonian and the elf Brynjolf had mentioned, and off to the side she saw the tall redheaded Nord wearing finer clothes than the simple tunic and pants he left her room in. His eyes caught her amber ones and a slight smile touched his lips. She smiled at him briefly, gave a slight nod and pulled her cowl a little further down her face.

She made her way towards the Argonian’s stall, listening to Brynjolf as he called out to the others for their attention. She discretely swallowed the contents of a bottle she had in her pouch and felt the potion of invisibility take effect. She withdrew a lock pick from her pocket and set herself to work opening the stall and then the lockbox. She quickly withdrew the gem and pocketed it. She quickly closed everything up and drank more of her potion before finding her way behind the elf. She slipped the ring into the satchel on his hip and made her way toward the cart next to the Bee & Barb. She paid Marise for a piece of food and chatted about how she kept the food fresh and she agreed to bring the vendor some more ice wraith teeth. She watched as Brynjolf closed up his stall then watched as the city guard approached then arrested the elf. Excusing herself she made her way back toward the doors of the inn, conveniently bumping into Brynjolf.

“You definitely are full of surprises aren’t you, lass? Let me buy you a drink.” They walked over to the meadery where he dropped some coins on the counter and ordered two Black-Briar Reserves. They sat at a table to the side and spoke in lowered voices.

“You know, with how things have been going around here, I’m surprised this went off without a hitch,” he said before taking a swallow of the mead.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“My organization has been having a bit of bad luck, but I suppose that’s just how it goes. But never mind that. You did the job and you did it well.” He slid over a coin purse.

“Here’s your pay as promised.”

“So, you going to tell me more about your organization?”

“Maybe.” He took another swallow. “If you can make it down there.”

“If I can make it down there?” she repeated.

He smiled at her. “Let’s put your skills to the test, shall we, lass? The group I represent has its home in the Ratway beneath Riften… a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece and we’ll see if you’ve really got what it takes.”

She glowered at him as he finished his mead and walked out.


She pushed open the door and was greeted by the sounds of people talking. She slowly crept forward, listening and watching. She heard Brynjolf’s voice as he spoke with a group of people. He was no longer wearing the fine clothes he had on before but now he wore what she recognized as the clothing of the Thieves Guild. She heard the man behind the bar say, “Give it up, Brynjolf…. Those days are over.”

“I’m telling you, Vekel, this one is different.”

The man on Brynjolf’s left laughed. “Yeah, like we haven’t heard that one before, Bryn. Quit kidding yourself.”

The bartender nodded his head. “it’s time to face the truth, old friend. You, Vex, Mercer… you’re all part of a dying breed. Things are changing.”

At that moment Brynjolf turned his head and seeing her, said, “Dying breed, eh? Well what do you call that then?” He turned his full attention to her, a smile spreading across his face. “Well, well… color me impressed, lass. I wasn’t certain I’d ever see you again.”

“What? That?” she jerked her thumb toward the door leading out of the Flagon. “That was a walk in the park. Come on, Brynjolf. Give me a challenge.”

The guys behind Brynjolf looked at each other then back at her. The bartended chuckled and said, “I think you’re right, Bryn. This one is different.”
Brynjolf chuckled at Vekel. He looked back at Meliandra, crossed his arms in front of his chest and cocked his head to the side. His lips turned up into a pleased smirk. “Reliable and headstrong? You are definitely turning out to be quite the prize.” He took her by the elbow as they walked toward the platform that sat above a pool of water. “So… now that I’ve whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam.

“Tell me more,” she said as she returned his smile.

Author: AisleenHaus

Leaving the real world for one of my own making.

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