A Master Thief (A Brynjolf Fanfic)

Nine

(Warning: Mildly graphic content ahead.)

To say I knew what to expect of Brynjolf would be a lie. I had assumed him to be no more than a thief, but slowly I began to wonder if perhaps he was capable of more. And if so, should I be afraid? Because I wasn't. If anything, I found him even more intoxicating than before. It also didn't help that his kiss lingered on my lips. I'll admit to the fact that, in my more rebellious youth, I had in fact kissed a few boys. But it had been nothing like that. And now here I was, unable to stop thinking of it. 

I was stuck with a permanent smile on my face and it I didn't dislike it. In fact, it was more than I'd smiled since the ball. 

I walked inside, feeling at ease once more. My body had been through an utter chaotic, emotional wreck and I longed for a bath to accompany my newfound hope. Once Sofia had drawn the hot water and put fragrance in as well, I slid down naked as birth and dozed. I imagined riding off on horseback with Brynjolf,  hand in hand; or perhaps I'd simply join the Thieves' Guild, where he and I could rob and live freely as we pleased. I had to remind myself to slow down, for a simple kiss--no matter what fueled it--meant very little to some men. And he was, after all, a thief. 

But he was so much more.

I was awakened by voices downstairs. I paused, my breath catching; they were too far for me to notice, but I could tell it was deep and masculine. I could barely keep myself from leaping from the tub and dressing. It had to have been Brynjolf! Maybe he had come dressed as a nobleman or a courier to alert me that I was needed elsewhere and would have to leave Riften immediately with him. My heart soared and I dressed quickly. After I tossed my damp hair over my shoulder, I hurried downstairs, still grinning like a lunatic. 

"Bryn," I said happily. "That was fast, I--" My words caught in my throat. Standing in the foyer wasn't Brynjolf.

It was Lord Telir. 

He stood garbed in his immaculate gold robes, a bouquet of lovely mountain flowers in his hands. To the unseeing eye, he was the epitome of elven beauty, with his yellow hair and smooth skin. But I saw it flashing in his ethereal eyes--the black burning violence there. The urge for blood and the desire for my flesh. I trembled where I stood. He merely smiled back. I prepared to scream but saw that it had been little Sofia to let the monster inside. She curtsied innocently and hurried off. 

I was alone with my worst nightmare.

"Lady Ria," he announced calmly. "I'm so sorry I haven't been able to reach out to you. I have been preoccupied with business and the Thalmor."

I felt ice crawling up my spine as he approached, clicking his snake's tongue. "My, my, but you've gotten pale since the ball, dear," he remarked coyly. "I hope you haven't been sick, have you?"

"What do you want?" I choked out. 

"What do I want?" he raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Oh, Riannia. Still stuck on what was seen at my ball, hmm?" Lord Telir laid the flowers down, now clapping his hands behind his back as he eyed me. "You know, Ria," he purred. "When I was told I'd marry you I  was very uninterested at first. Then they told me of your half-Breton, half-Imperial heritage. And I thought, 'well, that's the perfect bride, indeed!' With magic blood and your influence within the courts...." He didn't finish, but merely shook his head with humor written across his face. "And then I met you. That day you wore that silky ribbon around your neck. And I realized I was not only to wed a powerful woman, but a great beauty indeed."

I inched for the doors, panicked. "Tell me, Ria," he continued humming. "Would you do me a favor? I do so like you in that ribbon. Perhaps you could go put it on for me?"