For those of you who aren't familiar with the Skyrim game but come from the Dragon Age Universe, the Dark Brotherhood is the assassin's guild. The Thieves Guild has no fancy name, but they're under the city of Riften. I think the high fantasy characterizations are pretty typical. There are werewolves and vampires and they can, for the most part, pass for ordinary people.

In the course of the game the PC can chose to murder the nasty old lady that runs the orphanage in Riften. There's a boy in another town who is desperate to get rid of the Grelod because he's making his life a misery, and that of the other orphans. So I figured Nessa would leap at the opportunity, having been an orphan herself. The Dark Brotherhood used to have a spiritual connection to a god-like creature and she would tell them when someone had performed the "Dark Ritual". They would contact that person and then, if the contract were accepted, go kill someone. Unfortunately that spiritual connection doesn't exist any longer. Nessa took it on herself to answer the boy's dark ritual herself, thus landing her in hot water when the assassins find out what she's done.

~o~o~o~

Delvin looked up when Brynjolf took him aside in an empty corner of the Flagon. "We've got a bit of a problem, old friend."

The older man looked up and cocked his head. "Oh? Something more than usual, eh? What's Vipir done now? I'll get the boys and we can spring him. Which jail is he in?" He scratched the back of his neck with a peeved expression. "I dunno though, maybe we should leave him set there a few days to teach him a lesson."

Brynjolf chuckled. "Not Vipir, Del, it's the new girl."

"Oy, she's not giving you trouble already is she? Mercer will have her hide if she brings us problems and yours too for bringing her here."

Brynjolf frowned. "Yeah, I'm well aware of that. I don't think we need to bring the old man in on this yet. Maybe it'll resolve itself."

Brynjolf was good at guarding his face, but Delvin had known him a long, long time. Taught him everything he knows. He couldn't hide the concern he had for the girl. "Well, better out than in. What'd the lass do?"

"She's in trouble with the Dark Brotherhood." Brynjolf had convinced her to let him keep the message. He'd told her he might be able to do something about it, but he was pretty sure that had been a lie. What he really wanted to know was how much trouble was headed to the guild.

"Nine Divines," Delvin swore quietly. He clamped a hand on his friend's shoulder in a kindly manner. "If you were intent on bedding her, best get to it. I doubt you'll have much more opportunity. The question is how does she even know? Most poor sods only know they've got trouble with the Brotherhood when an assassin is standing over them fixin' to plunge somethin' pointy into their vitals."

Brynjolf handed Delvin the note and watched his expression as he read it. The old pickpocket whistled in disbelief. "Well don't this beat all? The Dark Brotherhood don't announce themselves like this to their victims." He folded the note up and handed it back. "I don't know what they want, lad, but I figure they'll be telling her soon enough."

Pacing the floor, Brynjolf rubbed at his chin. The guild certainly didn't need any friction with the Dark Brotherhood. Sometimes they worked together on some very lucrative contracts, but if anyone knew the Dark Brotherhood, it was Delvin. He'd worked with them frequently over the years; in fact, long ago Delvin had been as assassin. It was something he rarely spoke about. "What's our exposure, Del?"

Delvin shrugged. "None that I can see, long as we don't interfere. Maybe they're just trying to scare the girl. Or…" He stopped talking abruptly and frowned.

"Or what, Del?"

"Naw, it's nothing. For a minute I was going to say they might want to recruit her. She's a good thief, I'll give you that, but I can't see them taking on a girl that green. That lot is right blood thirsty and Nessa… well, other than her partiality for lifting valuables, she's a good girl. I doubt she's ever even bloodied her dagger."

Brynjolf barked out a laugh. "Sweet Nessa, an assassin? Well, sleep on it. If anything else comes to mind. Let me know. I'll tell her she might want to stick close to the cistern awhile. We can keep an eye on her."

"No, lad, don't say anything. We don't want to be in the middle of this… whatever it is," Delvin warned.

Brynjolf frowned with that warning but nodded his assent. He walked back to the cistern thinking about Delvin's warning and considering whether he should listen to him or not. He at least wanted to say a few reassuring words to the girl, tell her it was probably nothing too serious, so she wouldn't lie awake all night worrying about it. She was staying in the cistern now, at least most nights, so he headed to the curtained cubby hole they'd set aside for her privacy.

"Lass," he said quietly, "can I disturb you for a moment?" He waited outside the curtain for a reply but all he heard was silence. Not even the deep breath of a sleeper. By the Nine have they killed her here in the cistern? He pulled aside the curtain and found she was gone. Relief flooded him. He would have felt horribly guilty if she'd been killed here, amidst all her brothers, where she should be safe.

But where did she go? He pulled aside the curtain to let in more light and then he saw the parchment lying on her bed, nearly a twin of the one she'd given to him. It had that same black handprint, but this time there was no text. The message was clear. The Dark Brotherhood had taken her right out of the cistern. The Nine only knew why. His heart felt unaccountably heavy when he considered the empty bed.

It's probably best, he told himself, we can't have that sort of trouble here. That thought didn't make him feel much better for the girl but at least he'd stay out of trouble with Mercer. He could always say she'd had a change of heart about thieving. He knew Delvin wouldn't tell the ornery old guild master what he knew.

He picked up the piece of parchment and folded it, sticking it into a pocket. Then he found a ribbon she used to tie her hair up in braids. It was blue, almost the same color as her eyes. He didn't know why but he picked that up and put it into his pocket as well.

~o~o~o~

There wasn't much to it, really. Babette was virtually invisible in the dark of the night. Slipping a little something into the thieves' mead to ensure they all slept well was… child's play. Never mind that the child was a three century old vampire in a ten-year-old girl's body. The little vampire silently directed Nazir through the cistern to the girl she'd seen that night in Grelod's room.

Nazir chuckled to himself. The Nord girl had stolen a kill from Babette; she was quite put out about the entire matter. Oh well, Astrid will sort her out. He bent over her bed, plunging a doctored needle into her arm, ensuring she wouldn't wake and cause a fuss. His hand covered her mouth in case she woke and struggled, but it was an unnecessary precaution. She must have had a lot of the treated mead before she went to bed.

He bent over her bed and folded a blanket around her unconscious body, covering her head and body. It was easy to pick her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She was a tall girl, like most of these Nords, but on the thin side. He felt strong muscles under her nightgown.

Babette left a piece of parchment on the girl's bed and collected her gear. Assuming that Astrid didn't kill her she'd probably need her armor and weapons.

Nazir looked over at Babette and she nodded. He couldn't see much in the gloom, but he saw Babette's white teeth. She looked highly amused and he wondered about that. The pair stole out of the cistern as noiselessly as they'd come in with the girl who had pretended to be one of them.

Arnbjorn waited not far from the stables with a horse and cart ready to transport the interloper to the shack where they held and questioned prisoners sometimes. Why Astrid had ordered her taken and not just killed, he couldn't imagine. He'd even questioned her about in private.

"Just get rid of her, love. I don't want to have to cart her across Skyrim. We don't need a problem with the thieves." His hand traveled up her side and rested on her bare belly.

"Hmmmm?" she said dreamily, trapping his hand under her own. "Babette did a little investigation into this imposter's background and she seems to think that I should meet her." She moved Arnbjorn's hand lower down her belly and guided it between her legs. Her fingers interlocked with his and they both rubbed languorously over that slick spot that made her moan. "I've learned not to question Babette's judgment."

They'd not discussed it after that. Truthfully he'd forgotten about his concerns shortly thereafter. Astrid might not have been as old as Babette but, over the course of her unnaturally long lifetime, she'd picked up a lot of ways of make a man forget himself. In the end, he did as she wanted; he always did.

Still, he didn't have to like it. They set out for the shack well before daybreak. Babette didn't like being out during the day. They had Babette's bed – really, it was a nicely padded and lined coffin – in the wagon with the Nord girl. When the sun came up, she sought shelter inside it. At noon they stopped and checked on the girl. Arnbjorn peeled back the blanket covering her face.

"Talos!" he swore. "Take a look at her, Nazir."

The Alik'r assassin stood up and joined his brother to peer down at the unconscious girl. He hadn't really gotten a good look at her the night before. "She seems far too young to be a murderer. Do you think Babette made a mistake?"

Arnbjorn looked closer at the girl. The color of her hair, her white skin and pink cheeks, those cheekbones... He peeled open one of her eyes and saw a blue iris. "Take a closer look, Nazir. Doesn't she remind you of someone?"

Nazir looked at her more closely. "A very young Astrid, I suppose." He remembered Babette's smug smile the night before. Babette had perfect vision in the dark; she knew exactly what the girl looked like. It wasn't an accident they were taking her to Astrid.

Arnbjorn nodded. "A hundred years ago, this might have been Astrid. What is Babette playing at?" He knew the answer even as he asked the question. Vampires get bored, maybe Babette had seen the signs of restlessness in Astrid, certainly he had. This girl… Was he bringing his wife a toy? Something to play with?

He fought the urge to transform into a werewolf and rip the girl's throat out.

Is Astrid bored with me?

~o~o~o~

Notes: Thanks for the reviews! I've been feeling a little bummed at how few people are reviewing lately and I wonder if my stories are bad or what. I need your reviews to keep my interest going in these projects. Truly, I feed off your feedback. It stokes the creative fires and I love to hear your ideas as well! It's a bit embarrassing to admit to it, but I need some validation that I'm not just wasting time.

Now, I realize there's no reason to believe that Astrid is a vampire. However there's something so darkly seductive about her I truly did wonder if she were a vampire. I'm not normally attracted to women, but she got to me. I see her almost like a Vampire Lestat.