A/N: Thank you for all your immediate support for this story by two favourites and follows before it even hits the twenty four hour mark. I'm going to try to update daily ((if I can)) but that also means the chapters may be shorter. But it'll depend on my mood. Anyways, please enjoy and review if you feel so inclined!
Chapter 2: Had me worried
The lass hadn't been in town for over three weeks. Now, he'd never admit it but Brynjolf could almost feel the worry sink in. When she'd left nearly a month ago she seemed stressed; her eyes lacked spark and her smile was absence of it's usual mirth. He'd have to be blind not to see her concern and there was virtually nothing he could do about the matter. That girl was a anomaly, she spent less time around the markets and more time in her abode at Honeyside. If Brynjolf were to make a guess he'd say she was preparing; for what he didn't know.
He knew of her exploits and her hang outs; although he couldn't say he approved of her drifting around with those obnoxious Companions. Not that he could do anything about what she did, as he recently discovered the damn woman was Dragonborn. She had a lot of responsibility on her shoulders and he didn't envy her for that.
Albeit, he was ill at ease about her absence. Riften also missed her, everything seemed grey and dreary and everyone seemed to drift around a bit slower than usual. Brnyjolf couldn't voice his tension to his fellow thieves though; that bunch didn't much like the idea of recruiting a woman who demanded so much attention after all.
But that was where things didn't add up. The woman was an assassin. And a nasty good one he'd heard; and he had seen her demonic looking steed outside at the stables, but wouldn't her position as Dragonborn ruin her subtlety? What kind of waking legend went about murdering people for gold? All in all it was terrifying, yet the quick thief couldn't shake the racy images from his mind. His nights were haunted by vivid scenes of her soft mouth wrapped around his cock, stroking those long fingers down his dark treasure trail. It was beginning to verge on obsessive and Brynjolf knew obsession led to weakness. He convinced himself once he bed the lass the dreams would cease; he needed that mental security that the thoughts of her naked would stop eventually.
However, getting to the deed of a good tumbling would be much harder than he had previously anticipated. Almost every time she was in town she was accompanied by various men, all who seemed to watch her with predatory hungriness. The one she seemed to travel with most often went by the name Farkas, a large Nord with more scars and war wounds than one could count. It almost made Brynjolf jealous seeing how close those two were; they laughed freely with one another and Aria often giggled in a way that could only be described as girlish around him. It was only with the Companion that she made such adorable noises and faces; it made Brynjolf's teeth clench whenever he saw them together.
Now, he was not a petty man and envy did not suit him well, but he was positively green when it came to the strong headed lass. She teased him endlessly and the way she swung those hips he had to hold himself back from jumping her in public. Not to mention, the girl had a knack for gold. Never once had he seen her carrying less than a thousand septims, the comforting sound of gold clinking together calling his name. Damn, that woman would be the death of him and every time he thought about her he grew hard. He needed to fix this issue and fast.
XOXOX
It wasn't until a few days later that he knew something was seriously wrong. When Farkas and another man who shared a scary resemblance to the man came into Riften looking terribly angry he knew something had happened. The two looked like they were about ready to strangle a man, large great swords swinging on their backs, ready to kill. Almost like caged wolves, the two stalked around town, asking passerby's if they had possibly seen the missing Dragonborn.
Brynjolf ached to ask them what they knew about the current situation, but he decided it would be better to wait for them to approach him. Which they eventually did, after much shambling around and wasting time. Once one of them finally spotted him, Brynjolf steeled himself, getting ready for accusations.
"You," The one Brynjolf didn't recognize roared, pointing a finger at him. "You know Aria don't you?" The stranger's tone was rough, and his dark eyes blazed with anger.
Crossing his arms over his chest and appearing nonchalant, Brynjolf shrugged. "Yes, I know her. Who doesn't in this town? The woman is the Thane after all."
The mountain man did not seem amused with Brynjolf's little act, his eyes narrowed. "Cut the act, whelp." He snarled, "we're searching for our Harbinger and I don't have time for your gruff."
Farkas nudged past the other man, eyeing up Brynjolf testily. "I know this one, Vilkas." He grunted, "Aria says he's some kind of thief." Farkas shrugged, obviously his wit was not as sharp as his blade.
The other one didn't seem quite so relaxed. Gruffly snatching the front of Brynjolf's robes, Vilkas pulled the man close to his face, lifting him off the ground. "A thief eh? Well isn't that something. You so much as see Aria and you don't inform us first I'll cut off your ruddy head." Vilkas barked, releasing Brynjolf promptly and pushing the man away from him. "Until next time, whelp." He said, turning on his heel and marching off, Farkas following in tow.
Brynjolf glared after them, fighting the urge to draw his blade and sink it into the mans shoulder. What made those two scum rats so damn entitled? Furious, Brynjolf cursed under his breath and slammed his fist down on the counter top, mind racing.
Where was that girl?
XOXOX
The moment he saw her his entire body stiffened. She looked bone tired and her previously long hair was shoulder length and dirty. Her footfalls lacked their usual luster and a new scar curved down the dramatic slant of her right cheekbone; nightfall eyes weary.
Brynjolf wanted nothing more than to run up to her and shake her stupid for being so selfish. The damn girl had everyone worried! Even Maven had been whispering such nonsense as maybe her threat to call the Dark Brotherhood was a bit unnecessary. Honestly, the lass had him in a cold sweat at night. Where previous lusty dreams of her in bed with him romped freely, they were unwittingly replaced with horrific images of her body bloodied and eyes unseeing. At first the dreams had angered him, why should he care if the lass got herself offed? At least his worries would cease, but then he genuinely became stressed about the girl's well being. He had scoured through all sorts of contacts hoping to find a hint about the girl, coming up empty handed.
Some thick headed courier told him the girl had gone and joined the Stormcloak army and was now the personal knife in the side of the Empire. Brynjolf choose purposefully to ignore that rumour, although it's truths were somewhat undeniable.
So, when she casually walked through the market place without even acknowledging his existence he became very angry. Before he was even aware of what he was doing he was on his way over to her, storming over to her tired form. He was going to give that fool a fair piece of his mind, fully intending on expressing every inch of his rage.
Catching her by the arm, and silencing her yelps with his hand he dragged her behind the high walls of the Temple of Mara, pressing her back against the stone wall. The lass struggled against his hold and probably would've broken it too if she wasn't so tired. Giving up on her futile struggle she just glared at Brynjolf heatedly, lips struggling to speak against his hand.
"Shh, lass," he warned, casting an eye around, hoping he hadn't drawn attention. "We need to talk. Now." He growled as her fighting began to pick up again.
The seriousness of his tone stilled her, dark blue eyes waiting for him to begin talking. Seizing his window of opportunity he leaned in towards her, unshaven whiskers rubbing against her cheek bone.
"Where have you been!?" He demanded, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. " You had half the town worried sick about you." He paused, seeking for the proper words. "You had me worried dammit."
This really took her by surprise, a sharp exhale of breath breezing across his constricting palm. Her brows furrowed together in question, almost begging him to elaborate.
Brynjolf shook his head, upset with himself for letting that bit of information slip. "Never mind that," he snapped, "where were you?"
The Dragonborn's nostrils flared in irritation and her pupils narrowed, she didn't want to tell him, that much was obvious.
Shaking in pent up annoyance, Brynjolf brought his other hand to rest on the wall beside her head, face hovering inches from hers. "Tell me," he breathed, hot breath panning against her face.
That was when she did something completely unexpected, she licked his palm. Hot tongue darting past her lips, she teasingly licked the salty flesh of his hand.
Brynjolf was so shocked he jumped away from her, bewildered. Giggling, Aria swiftly nibbled the fingertip of his outstretched hand, before whipping around and sprinting away.
Shell shocked, Brynjolf watched her run away, staring at his moist hand in disbelief. He hadn't thought in his wildest dreams she'd tempt him so recklessly. Shaking his head, and smiling Brynjolf wiped his hand off on his pants, unable to stop the tightness of his groin. That lass was playing with fire and soon she'd get burned.
A/N: How was it? Please review ((if you feel so inclined)) and have a good day.
3 Suicidal
