Azalia // Skyrim Fanfiction

Chapter Fifteen

Brynjolf woke with his arms still wrapped around Azalia, who was sleeping soundly. He couldn't help but look at her. She was beautiful, from her angular cheekbones to her strong jaw and plump pink lips. He wondered if he could win her affections again. A deep anger bubbled inside of him at the thought of Mercer winning her heart, or even the thought of her going back to Vilkas. He didn't know if there was feelings there previously, or if it was just physical. Perhaps all Azalia would want from any man would be physical, even more so after the events that had unfolded the past weeks.

Knowing that she would regret asking him to stay, Brynjolf withdrew his body from hers. She whimpered but didn't stir. He decided it would be productive to busy himself by buying some supplies for their trip back to the Guild, and so he left The Bannered Mare.

~•~

There was a warmth missing when Azalia opened her eyes. She felt rested, and much more alive than she had the day before though her mind was troubled. She needed to know where she had come from, and who exactly her mother was if her father was Molag Bal. She still couldn't comprehend it, and the unanswered questions in her life seemed to irritate her so much more. She knew she needed to speak to Aranea. Perhaps the Dark Elf would know who her mother was, or where she came from and she could begin her search somewhere.

Azalia dressed herself with a sigh, untangling her white locks with her fingers. She had to tell Brynjolf the truth, and she had to tell him she needed to leave again to find Aranea.

"I got us some things for the journey back," Brynjolf announced as he ascended the wooden stairs. He had a brown sack in hand and a warm smile on his face.

"I can't go back," Azalia said and Brynjolf's face dropped, "I have to go back and see Aranea. You know I need to do this."

"Yes, lass," He said, concern evident on his handsome face, "But you can't go alone, especially not after what you just went through. You asked me to come with you once, and I'm coming now."

"Brynjolf you're needed back home," Azalia sighed, shaking her head. She didn't want to drag him into the mystery and danger that was now her life.

"I don't care, Azalia," He argued, and she knew better than to challenge him. There was no way she would win, "I promised myself-.."

"Promised yourself what?" She asked once he cut himself off, a questioning look on her face.

"Nevermind, lass," He said, evading her, "But I'm coming, and you cannot stop me."

In truth, Azalia didn't really want to leave him. She couldn't help the feeling of safety and calm she got when she was around him, and the rhythmic increase of her heartbeat each time he smiled at her. She didn't know just the extent of her feelings for him, but she knew that she could not act on them. It was foolish to even fall so far in the first place. Even if he did care for her, how could she tell him about her lineage. The Prince of Domination was evil, and somewhere in her, that darkness existed, waiting until the perfect moment to take her over.

"The Shrine is near Winterhold," Azalia said with a sigh, "We must leave now if we wish to make it there and to an Inn before nightfall."

Brynjolf's face wore a look of triumph and Azalia almost smiled. She left Whiterun and headed for the stables. Her horse still remained in Markarth, and she figured that she'd never see that mare again so she shared Brynjolf's horse. They rode through the day, from the warm air into the snow capped hills that surrounded the cities of Windhelm and Winterhold. She knew the route, though she had not returned to the Shrine or Aranea in years.

"It's best if we continue on foot from here," Azalia said from behind Brynjolf, her arms wrapped firmly around his torso, "It's going to be too steep for the horse to climb with both of us."