Chapter 31: Admiration

Astrid stepped out into the large, central cavern, following the echoing footsteps of Zirath and Arnbjorn. Her eyes narrowed in on the dark passage that led to the entrance of the sanctuary, watching as the two assassins emerged into the dim light of the open area.

"Ah, Astrid. I see you are indeed awake." Zirath purred, stepping out from beside Arnbjorn, who appeared to have a slight scowl on his rugged features. "I believe it's safe to assume that you aren't accustomed to sleeping well during the nights?" he asked, his pointed brow arching up in curiosity.

Astrid paused a moment, feeling instantly tense with the subject of her current insomnia. However, she brushed the underlying dreadful memories away, reminding herself that this was a simple question that one did not have to delve deeply into. "Yes. I guess you could say I'm a light sleeper." she shrugged coolly, hoping that none of her inner-turmoil would bleed through enough for Zirath to detect.

She watched as the corner of his lips curled up in an ever-so-slight smirk, causing her to ponder on just what was currently traveling through his thoughts. "Ah, I see...As I stated before, you are born for this life among us, sister. Being so easy to wake is another necessary quality for an assassin." he beamed, clasping his thin hands behind his back as he analyzed the matter. "One never knows when one will be gutted in their sleep. Those who slumber heavily never live to find out."

An involuntary smile spread across Astrid's lips as instant satisfaction and gratitude began to seep into her emotions from his seemingly endless praise. She found herself watching with fascination as his own features reacted with the same appearance of contentment.

Arnbjorn crossed his arms and grunted to himself from behind their leader, before leaving them and heading toward the dining area. Astrid watched him make his abrupt exit, while feeling her insides prickle with a strange wave of unease. Something inside of her wanted to follow him, yet Zirath's strangely engulfing presence urged her to stay put.

"I-is he alright?" Astrid asked before thinking, instantly cringing from the unusual vulnerability in her voice.

Despite the strange tension that had once again formed in the air, Zirath remained as calm, suave, and effortless as ever in his demeanor. "Our brother will be just fine. He simply becomes angered by that which he does not understand. However, he is but a whelp. Arnbjorn has not yet grasped the magnitude of my actions. If our clients insist that I meet with them in private, then in private I must go. The subtle art of negotiation is something he has yet to learn. Let us say that the foundation of our livelihood must be laid with all the nuances of diplomacy when need be. I expect that he feels I am...hiding something from him..." Zirath explained, pacing about slowly and dismissively studying his surroundings. He paused briefly, before turning his crimson gaze to her once more. "Do you understand this concept, Astrid? That one must be flexible when the situation calls for it? That if one becomes too hard and rigid, that under the right pressure one can break?"

Astrid thought over his words for a moment, before slowly nodding. "I think so." she replied, feeling a bit interested in why a supposedly powerful force such as the Dark Brotherhood would bend to anyone's will. Apparently, Zirath had noticed her doubt, and instantly honed in on it.

"But you are conflicted, Astrid." he interjected, stopping her thoughts from wandering any further with his accuracy.

Astrid sighed, feeling a bit put on the spot. She hated to admit it to herself, but things had been quite murky when it came to the mixed opinions and lingering doubts among her dark family. The fact that Zirath was being so secretive and cryptic wasn't helping in the least. Why would he bow to any demands? "It's just...Are you hiding something?" she boldy asked, knowing that he was remarkably talented at gaging her honesty. Astrid was no stranger to boldness, and that in and of itself allowed her to question him in such a challenging manner. Of course, a hidden side of herself was a bit unsettled in the same way that a small child would fear challenging his or her father. However, that part still remained hidden in her subconscious, with her only vaguely feeling its effects.

Astrid tensed a bit, watching the gears turning in his mind, as he seemed to calmly formulate a response to her inquiry. Apparently, he'd noticed that subtle tightness in her body language as well. "It is fine, sister. No need to fear. You have right to question me. I would expect no less from such an astute observer." he began, drawing her in with yet more praise, in spite of her questioning nature. It wasn't that she wanted him to affect her in such a powerful way - it was simply that he did, somehow against her will. He did possess an uncanny ability to both peak her curiosities and fill some pieces of her deep void with such precision, praise, and flattery. She simply stood speechless, waiting for his next words.

Zirath calmly stepped over to a weapon rack, slowly pulling a sword from it and examining it in the dim lighting. "You are aware of the nature of children, are you not?" he asked, eyeing his reflection in the blade.

Astrid furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure I follow..."

"You will, sister." he stated with a hint of coldness in his tone, before running his finger slowly down the sharp weapon. "Allow me to explain..." he began, placing the weapon firmly back into place. "You see, the nature of a child is rather egocentric. Children only think of the benefits or harm to themselves, as they are not yet capable of seeing yet a larger picture. They only realize the immediate results of the here and now, and are not tempered to see the long-term effects of an event. A parent, however, is in complete and utter obligation to do this for them, in order to preserve the child and teach the child. Often, the child will not understand the things the parent says or does. The child will feel need to rebel and take matters unto himself, due to his inability to see the greater picture the parent has long known. All the while, the ever patient parent still performs those actions that the child despises, and all for the greater good of the child, despite the outbursts and rebellious nature displayed. Such is the nature of children, Astrid." Zirath explained, stepping toward her with purpose. "Are you beginning to understand, my child?" he asked, stopping in front of her.

Astrid stared into his eyes, feeling him analyze her every minor movement and expression. "I take it we are the children." she commented, attempting to hide the strange feeling of confusion she was beginning to feel.

"Hm." he hummed briefly, seeming unimpressed with her tone, before continuing. "I do what I must to help my dark family survive. If that means I displease them with my actions, then so be it. Even so, it must be this way. I hold obligations to you all - to care for you, provide for you, nourish you..." he cooed, stroking her hair and causing a strange yearning for his approval to resurface. "I do not ever wish to offend our brother, or you, for that matter, precious sister..." he spoke, nearly whispering in her ear. "But I must love you all and remain devoted, despite upsetting some of you. I must provide your contracts, and this family holds wealth and much power. They only wish to communicate with me in confidence, and in return for my silence, I will nourish you all with blood and gold to be claimed. Is that not my calling in life - my obligation to you, Astrid?" he breathed, now holding her face in his hands much as if she were, indeed, a small child.

She nearly gasped as something buried inside of her reached its breaking point. Astrid couldn't contain the alarmingly wonderful feeling that had overcome her. She simply gazed into his eyes, feeling such deep fondness and affection for him. It was as if Zirath knew her every empty space and need, and how to fill them all. Her leader held guidance, devotion, and a disturbingly accurate understanding of her dark, hidden spaces. Gazing into her eyes, he'd proclaimed to serve both Astrid and her dark brethren in any and every way. He was her inspiration - her protector.

"I...see...now..." Astrid whispered, feeling almost hypnotized by his close proximity.

Zirath nodded with satisfaction, before allowing his hands to leave her face. He swiftly turned away, pacing slowly toward his quarters. "I knew you would, Astrid." he paused, turning a final time. "I figured you far too sharp to remain shrouded in misunderstanding. You continue to excell, sister..." he purred, before slinking out of her sight.


"What?" Arnbjorn asked flatly, his back turned to Astrid, as he sucked the meat from a nearly devoured rabbit haunch.

"My, aren't we polite..." Astrid remarked, seating herself beside the scowling Nord.

He took a large gulp from a greasy tankard, before locking eyes with her. His icy expression seemed full of anger and hostility. "What did he tell you? That he's just doing what he thinks is right? That all this bullshit secrecy is for our own good?" he growled, pushing his plate of discarded bones away.

Astrid shrugged, remaining as calm as possible, despite feeling a bit unhappy to see Arnjorn so irate. "Something like that."

"Figures." he muttered, before downing the last contents of his tankard. "He'll say whatever you wanna hear to get his way. Don't listen to him." Arnbjorn spoke in a stern, demanding tone.

Unfortunately, Astrid had not only did just that, but did so intently. She couldn't help the fact that, despite Arnbjorn's complete distrust and Dar'Sien's cryptic doubts, she felt completely intoxicated by their leader. It wasn't necessarily lustful or romantic - it was far more hidden, confusing, and deeper than that. It filled the empty spaces inside of her with fire and warmth. All the rejection and humiliation dissipated in his presence. He was devotion, acceptance, and love. He was every kind word she'd never received. He was every warm embrace her father never wrapped her in. He was every validation her mother never offered her. He was the sole symbol of those wonderful feelings she'd been so cruelly deprived of in her existence. He was to be observed. He was to be admired.