Azalia // Skyrim Fanfiction

Chapter Six

The next morning came much quicker than Azalia had wanted it to. She had slept better than she had in a long while with Brynjolf's strong arms holding her tight to his body. When she awoke, her head was resting on his broad shoulder and her lips were grazing the stubble on his jaw. Stealthily, Azalia slipped out of his hold and off the bed. She brushed her newly browned hair with her fingers and braided it like the regal women usually do.

Azalia slipped the fine blue dress that Mercer had provided for her over her head and tightened the corset. Brynjolf had woken to that sight, the way the dress seemed to beautifully hug and accentuate her curves. Her soft breasts swelled over the top of the corset. She pulled on her boots, turning to see that Brynjolf had awoken and was now watching her intently.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Azalia said, her voice soft. An awkwardness of unspoken words hung in the air, it was clear that neither of them were going to acknowledge what had happened, "You could still sleep for another hour."

"You didn't, Lass," Brynjolf replied with a short cough, "We should get ready anyway."

Azalia nodded and looked for her escape.
"I'll get us something to eat."

Azalia hurried herself out of the room, closing the door gently behind her before letting her head fall into her hands.
What have I done?

Azalia  decided it would be best to ignore that it had even happened, and continue as she usually would around Brynjolf. It was a moment of weakness, a moment of frustration where they had both just needed some release. That was all it was, just a physical encounter.

When Azalia returned to the room, with fresh bread in hand, Brynjolf was already dressed in his finery. She took in his appearance, he looked like the owner of a large estate and a cart of gold. But beneath the finery, she could see the soul of a thief; a soul of freedom.

"Here," She said, tossing him a half of bread. He accepted with a nod of appreciation. Azalia finished hers quickly, and began strapping weapons discreetly onto her body. She grabbed the invitation that Maven had procured for the pair, dropped it on Brynjolf's knees and threw her fur shawl over her shoulders. Lastly, she placed the gold circlet on her head. She looked at the reflection of a different woman, that lead a different life.

"Our names are Mallus and Lisette Thornwood," Brynjolf said with a sigh, "Apparently we're cousins."

The irony wasn't lost on Azalia.

When they boarded the carriage bound for the Thalmor Embassy, petals of snow began to fall from the overcast sky. Azalia didn't much mind the cold weather. She used to enjoy hunting in the frosty forests, tracking the footprints of a large elk through the trees. Brynjolf tucked the invitation into his coat and silence fell on the pair as the horses galloped forth.

The sight of the embassy made Azalia cringe. Of course she had scars from her last visit, but they had faded over the time that had passed. Oddly, she felt much more at ease than she thought she would. Perhaps it was because she trusted in her skills, or more likely because of the fact that she had someone with her this time. Azalia swallowed her fears and painted on her perfect disguise of calm and nonchalance.

"Here goes nothing," Azalia whispered to herself, "May Nocturnal bless us."

Brynjolf approached the guard and Azalia stood by his side like the obediant young woman she played the part of. She gave a striking smile to the High Elf guard as they passed. Brynjolf held the door for her and she passed through the threshold to the foyer of the Embassy. The gentle sound of the lute and the smell of alcohol floated through the warm air. Azalia took her time to look around at the guests as Brynjolf spoke to the Thalmor noble that greeted him.