After checking around him for anyone, Brynjolf headed into Riften's graveyard and the Thieves Guild's false crypt. He entered the mausoleum, stopped before the single stone coffin, and pressed the hidden button on it. In a grating of stone, the empty coffin slid back to reveal the steps leading down to a dim passageway lit only by a lantern sitting beside a grate set into the ground. He descended and pulled the chain to re-cover the hidden entrance; once the coffin settled back in its place above him, he lifted the grate and headed down the wood ladder.

More light, noise, and the smell of stew surrounded him when he reached the bottom. He turned to see Garthar, one of the newest recruits, stirring the cooking spit.

He nodded at Brynjolf. "Good run?"

"Very good," he answered with a smile. The stuck-up Thane in Windhelm he went to rob practically swam in the gold and jewels he had lying around his house and had absolutely no security.

Garthar shook his head as he turned back to the food. "Joining the Thieves Guild is the best thing I've ever done for my pockets."

Brynjolf left the Nord to head into the Cistern. He had honestly never seen it look this good: banners showcasing the Thieves Guild symbol hung everywhere; refurnished beds, individual chests, and walls to provide privacy; mounted animals; more light and actual color to awaken the Cistern, making it less gloomy. A granite statue of Nocturnal stood in one pool; three banners holding the Nightingale symbol hung behind her, representing the three members.

They had come so far since Mercer Frey and his betrayal in stealing the Skeleton Key, murdering Gallus, and robbing the Guild. In stealing the Key, he invoked the Daedric Lord Nocturnal to punish the Guild by taking away their luck, so simple jobs were no longer successful. As the Guild's reputation declined, Mercer flourished since he was robbing the Vault and had the powerful Skeleton Key to increase his wealth immensely.

All of this was happening under Brynjolf's nose and he never realized it. He should have realized the sudden turn wasn't natural, but he passed it off as plain bad luck. Until Macayla arrived; she turned things around practically single-handedly and opened the Guild's eyes by exposing Mercer. With the help of Karliah, they killed Mercer, Macayla returned the Skeleton Key to regain Nocturnal's favor, took Mercer's place as Guildmaster, and revived the dying Thieves Guild. Now they were strong, swimming in riches, and feared throughout all of Skyrim—things were back to normal.

His eyes went back to the statue of Nocturnal. Her possessing Macayla had been the main reason why they had discovered Mercer's schemes, but he still couldn't see the Daedric Lord in a favorable light since she had tried to take Macayla from him. Maybe his resentment of her would fade one day, but he highly doubted it.

Thinking about that beautiful woman, he looked over at the Guildmaster's desk; the shelves behind it were now stocked full of glittering memorabilia or treasure Macayla thought should be viewed instead of locked away in the Vault. His wife was nowhere to be seen.

Brynjolf smirked; knowing her, she had probably grown bored and went out on some heist. He caught sight of a small figure seated in the middle of the Cistern and playing with a boat in the waters; he headed for her. Aadalyn would know where to locate her mother.

Aadalyn came along not long after they married. Being five now, their daughter looked more and more like Macayla every day. She had taken much of her mother's features but took Brynjolf's red hair, just in a darker hue.

"Aadalyn," he said as he approached.

She looked up; he met his emerald eyes and Macayla's beaming smile. "Papa, you're back!" She scrambled to her feet and ran to him.

He caught her under the arms and swung her up, Aadalyn giggling the whole time; he playfully nibbled her jaw to pull out more laughter.

"Look what I got you," he said as he pulled out a rose made entirely of cloth—it had been stained to look like the flower in reds and greens, and soaked in fragrance to give it a flowery smell. She oohed, then took it to admire it.

"Where's your pretty mama?"

"She's in the Flagon talking with Delvin." She smelt of it, like a real flower.

"Let's go see her."

Brynjolf held Aadalyn in his arms as they headed for the door to The Ragged Flagon. They passed by Sapphire and Rune, and Aadalyn proudly showed them her newest gift. Brynjolf had reached out for the handle when he froze—a chill ran through him, raising the hairs on his neck. He recognized the sensation: it happened when Nocturnal was present, and he felt a tugging on his soul to go to her in the Twilight Sepulcher.

"Papa?"

He blinked back to focus, to find Aadalyn looking at him curiously. He set her down on her feet. "I'm sorry, Aadalyn, something's come up and I have to speak to your mama about it." He looked back at Sapphire and Rune. "Can you two watch her?"

"Sure," Rune said, as peppy as ever.

Brynjolf turned from them and quickly opened the door; he flung it shut behind him as he ran down the passageway to the Flagon. Fear had been impressed upon him, originating from his tie to Nocturnal. He heard the false storage cabinet open ahead of him and Macayla appeared, looking just as frantic as he felt.

"You felt it too," she stated.

He nodded. "The Twilight Sepulcher's in danger."

She grabbed his hand and started for the Cistern behind him. He stopped her.

"No lass, Aadalyn's right at the door; she'll get scared seeing us worried."

Macayla nodded in agreement and they turned to exit through the Flagon, and race to the Twilight Sepulcher.