Author's Note: This is a short, silly little thing I thought up as a raced through the Thief Guild quest line for the hundredth time. Most of it's told from Brynjolf's perspective but there is a bit of time framing, where Brynjolf remembers things, this is told between the breaks. The second chapter bounces back and forth between the Dragonborn's POV and Brynjolf's.

- A Thief Shaped Puzzle Box

Boots barely kicked up ash and dirt as she made her way over to the forge, the sun was setting over the water. She was tired, exhausted and her dagger was broken. Resting against the pillar by the blacksmith, she waited for him to cool the blade he was working on. He greeted her with a raised brow. "Guild Master, kill Miraak then?"

She jerked her head in what she hoped was a nod, she'd replaced most of her Nightingale armor, with a light Stalhrim set. After all fighting Miraak hadn't required a lot of sneaking and mostly being able to survive. Only her hood had made the journey, she'd thought she might need the bit of Nocturnal's luck to see her through. Handing the blacksmith the bits of her dagger she watched him make a face. "You heading up to rest?" She nodded her head again.

"I'll have you something when you show up again." Reaching into her pack she handed over a large chunk of Stalhrim ore for him, before he could say anything she walked off. Heading to the House she'd gotten here in town. Collapsing in her bed with nary a thought to do much else.

The next few days were spent recovering from the arduous fight, replacing her gear or upgrading it. Still she lingered in this ash covered town. She didn't really want to go back to the mainland yet, to the Guild and red-headed Seconds who refused to talk to her. Her sword swung around landing hard against the practice dummy. She'd been attracted to Brynjolf from the moment he called her 'lass'. Never in all her travels had she heard anyone with his accent, it did sinful things to her insides. She dreamed of hearing him whisper wicked things to her under the cover of night. She'd tried to approach him several times, but he'd brushed her off. It'd hurt. He'd gotten distant since she became Guild Master. Did her lofty title meant he no longer wanted to be her friend? Or, as the dark voice in the back of her head said, had he passed on the responsibilities he didn't want and no longer needed to keep her happy?

The dummy's head rolled mockingly on the floor from where her cut it off. She scowled down at it, it wasn't like she wanted to be mute. But ever since absorbing a dragon's soul she found even speaking could have disastrous results. Sure she didn't fling people across the room, but much like the Grey Beards her voice had simply become too powerful to use. Stabbing the straw dummy with her sword she flopped down against the wall staring around at the dark home. She was being foolish, she had duties not just to the Guild but Ulfric as well. Closing her eyes against the onslaught of emotion that particular thought brought. She was well aware that several prominent figures wanted to see her marry Ulfric. Imagine, the High King who conquered the land with the Voice and the Queen who was Dragonborn, Slayer of Alduin!

Huffing at her own mockery she stood, time to bathe, pack and face her fears. She'd just gotten dressed when she heard the sounds of her front door opening, a frown instantly maring her face. Glover had a key, encase of emergencies but she couldn't imagine him ever actually using it. Slipping into an alcove along the wall she conjured a dagger into her hands. Listening to the almost non-existent footsteps coming down the stairs. Who would break into her house? Had to be more Morag Tong agents, twisting the hilt of the Oblivion dagger in her hand she waited on bated breath for the figure to finish skulking down the stairs.

She watched the figure pass, narrowing her eyes in the dark and mentally cursing herself for not illuminating her home more. It was just one, in dark armor and clearly a male. He was bulkier than more dark elves. Still without much thought she slipped behind him and brought the dagger up to his neck. To her surprise instead of attacking he rose his hands in the air.

"All right lass, I suppose I deserve that for sneakin' into your house."

Her mouth went dry, she knew that voice, that Void cursed voice. Jumping back from him, she banished the dagger watching Brynjolf turn around to face her. A soft whisper cast a ball of light into the air. Exposing his rugged appearance, a feast for her starving gaze. His forest green eyes flickering over her in as much surprise as she appraised him with. She was only in a loose tunic, revealing her legs and arms for all the world to see. He was dressed in Guild armor, with a sword on his hip.

"Listen lass I came here to get you-"

A snarl was barely kept back, but still a word ripped it's way through her throat. "What?" That one word seemed to have stolen all the rest out of her fellow Nord's mouth. He stared at her mouth slightly agape, her eyes narrowed on him, watching him snap his mouth shut like a bear trap.

"You can talk!"

Rolling her eyes she brushed past him, heading towards the back of the house, subsequently her bedroom but also where she kept all her mead. She had a feeling she would need it to deal with this particular house guest.

"Don't roll your eyes at me lass! No one has ever heard you speak before! Hell, there is a betting pool on whether you are missing your tongue or not-"

Slamming the mead down she glared at him, the Nord wisely stopped that peculiar bit of monologue. With a sigh she turned to face him, crossing her arms under her bosom, waiting on the man to regain the sense she knew he had.

Brynjolf sighed dragging calloused fingers through his already mused red hair. "Look lass, I came to get you, to bring you home. Back to the Guild and.. back to me." He watched her closely, as she took up a clearly defensive stance. He still couldn't believe she spoke, or rather growled at him. It had sounded very much like he expected a dragon to sound like, perhaps that was why she didn't speak often?

".. To you?" These words were softer, barely a whisper and yet he could feel the power coming off them. All at once he understood why she never spoke. If just two whispered words felt like the ocean breeze on his face, how would anyone be able to withstand more? Sighing a bit, something he seemed to be doing a lot since he arrived on this blasted island, he looked over the young woman. It was almost surreal to see her like this. Her visage completely exposed to his eyes. Her own eyes argent and just as bright as he remembered. This time however he noticed a scar running faintly under her left eye, which he absently wondered if she'd always had or had gotten it since that night in Nightingale Hall.

Her long copper hair was hanging in loose curls around her shoulders, he hadn't known it was curly as the only other time he saw it it was tightly woven together. Like so many things about her, he was quickly learning to set aside all things he thought he knew. "Yes lass to me. Look I know I was being difficult.. But I, was coming to terms with things and it just got out of hand."

She shut her eyes and seemed to be practicing how to breathe; she didn't move, didn't open her eyes but she also wasn't shouting him across the room or drawing more daggers on him, so he'd count his blessings. When she finally opened her eyes he was taken back by the sheer level of pain with those expressive orbs.

"I wanted to tell you.. Everything. But every time I tried.. you pushed me away. Now you come here to say you what? You want me back? You'll have to do better than that." The words were barely a whisper but he felt them down to his core. The sorrow laced with the words were more piercing than any arrow and cut him deeper than any blade.

"Lass I'm sorry- I.. " He rubbed his face, "Evergloam why is this so difficult!" Giving up on trying to express himself verbally he chose to risk life and limb to show her what he meant. Walking across the space between them he seized the back of her neck, his fingers brushing briefly through her fiery hair and yanked her up. Bringing their lips together in a glorious collision. They stayed locked together for a moment before he heard another word, one he was sure he didn't know.

"Fus!" He found himself stumbling back, nearly sprawled out across the floor. Staring at her, completely startled.

"Did you just Shout at me? For kissing you?" The woman had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, a warm flush deepening her tan cheeks. "Shadows woman what would you do if I said I loved you?"

"Kiss you back."

He laughed at that, because it was the only reasonable response to this ridiculous mess he found himself in. In love with the enigma that was their Guild Master. The puzzle of the Dragonborn and her inability to even pretend to be a normal person. He grinned fondly at her as she helped him up off the floor, he supposed given how good she was at everything else, being just as bad as he was at expressing herself wasn't such a horrible thing. This time when he reached for her, she met him half way and this time the kiss didn't end with one of them being shouted across the room.