A/N: Hey guys, I was just replaying skyrim and was doing my usual archer/ thief build when I realized again how mad it makes me that you can't marry Brynjolf! I mean seriously? What a piss off. But anyways I decided I'd write M rated multi chaptered fic about his relations with my OC Dragonborn Aria. Probably going to be 3-5 chapters of about 1000 words each. Please enjoy and review if you so wish.

Rated M for future smut

Chapter 1: Newcomer

Something odd whistled on the afternoon winds. Brynjolf could tell right away the balance of the bridge way city had shifted; an alien feel in the air. Quick eyed and on his toes, Brynjolf examined the market carefully, eyeing up all the usual prospects. As far as he could see everything was the same, dull people with flat eyes selling wares that wouldn't even be worth snitching. Yet, he knew change was coming, in what capacity he yet didn't fully comprehend.

Sighing softly to himself, Brynjolf juggled the less than hefty coin purse at his side, disgruntled. He longed for the days when septims flowed easily, when a soft jingle could always be heard. Unfortunately, the guild had run into a dry patch, a curse as Delvin liked to call it, and every coin was a scramble these days; even for a seasoned pro such as himself. Deciding it best to return to the Flagon, Brynjolf swiftly closed shop and pocketed his earnings, a noticeable slump in his step as he returned home.

XOXOX

First things first, Brynjolf couldn't help but admire the minx. She sauntered around the market with a haughty eye and a quick tongue. Scars lined her arms and raven black hair was tied back into a long braid which swung over her shoulder, her hands seemingly permanently stationed on her generous hips. Her saucy tongue made even Grelka blink twice, and she haggled like no other he had ever seen.

Secondly, Brynjolf could feel her strength. It oozed in every step she took and the way her midnight eyes flickered around restlessly. It was then that her gaze met his, sizing him up in a way that made him feel entirely vulnerable.

Strutting across the cobble stone she stopped before him, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a elegant brow. "And what do you sell?" She asked mockingly, taking in the various oddities and potion bottles of Brynjolf's stall.

Clearing his dry throat, Brynjolf motioned to his potions elaborately, "well, only the most mystical and wondrous potions for well sodden adventures such as yourself." Brynjolf smirked comfortably, gauging her expression. " You've never done a honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying eh, lass?"

The stranger's cheeks brightened, brows tightening and her hips shifting almost angrily. "Oh yes? And what would you know about an honest days work?" She snipped back, voice ladled in venom.

Brynjolf would've laughed if he hadn't been so taken aback, "nothing lass. I know nothing about honesty and I don't particularly like the idea of becoming familiar with it." Brynjolf paused for dramatic effect, watching the girl's face. "But if you would like to know whatever it is I'm talking about I have a little proposition for you."

This caught the lasses attention, her eyes widening a fraction, the bow strapped to her back almost quivering in curiosity. "And what would that be?" She asked, her voice still edged in scepticism but listening nonetheless.

Smiling darkly, Brynjolf leaned over the counter to whisper in her ear, "it involves you using a particular set of skills which may or may not be illegal." When the lass didn't pull away, Brynjolf assumed she was still interested. Continuing, Brynjolf moved his mouth closer to her ear; her shoulders tensed at the action. "I need you to steal a certain something and plant it on that dark elf over there, I have a client who wants him, well . . . dealt with."

The lass exhaled sharply, side stepping away from Brynjolf easily. Glaring at him, her answer was clear on her face.

"No," She hissed through clenched teeth, "find something else to do your thieving dirty work." And with that she turned on her heel and marched towards the Bee and Barb, fuming.

Brnyjolf watched her go with a look of amusement on his handsome mug, a beauty she may be she was no thief. He may have misjudged her or his other head might have gotten the better of him, either way he'd find someone else for the job, their were always others.

XOXOX

The next time he saw her she was strolling around with a huge hulking mountain of a man and a fresh set of armour. Bruised and thinner than he remembered, she smiled as she hauled bags of goods to all the vendors of the market; selling every last piece of her salvage. Brynjolf watched her jaw dropped as she was handed mounds of septim, exchanging her equipment. She finished hastily, pocketing her buckets of money, a happy smile on her face.

Brynjolf continued to stare as she chattered with the beast of a man, buying them both a bottle of mead and a sweet roll. Laughing at something her companion said she shot a look over her shoulder, icy eyes meeting his. A sly grin passed her lips as his eyes held hers, his own face slack and shocked. Rolling her shoulders and cracking her knuckles in a motion that could be taken as cockiness she smirked at him.

Unable to even respond, Brynjolf just gazed after her as she vanished down the walkways, talking avidly. She mocked him with her pointed gaze, the damn woman must know that he'd never seen a single person pocket that much gold honestly in his entire life. Angry and with a damaged pride, Brynjolf decided he'd better make a hasty return to the rat way before he did something he'd regret.

XOXO

The lass's name was Aria. Brynjolf found out that tidbit of information not from the woman herself but from Maven Black-Briar, who was less than pleased with the woman's constituency in the city. For near an hour the woman griped about the new Thane of Riften, throwing all sorts of insults around.

"That damn wench doesn't know who she's dealing with!" Maven hissed, ignoring Brynjolf's presence. "I have ties with the Dark Brotherhood and that whore better not forget it."

Although Maven's hatred wasn't thoroughly misplaced, Brynjolf found himself amused at her empty threats. Ties or not, he had heard certain things about the lass that would unsettle Maven more than the news of her Thane-hood. Rumours were one of the weapons of a thief's trade and he had paid sorely to hear that piece of news. Apparently, the girl was running will all sorts of shady folk, assassins, mages and the Blades. That last one sent him reeling, the thought to be extinct order was interested in that snotty brat? The mystery behind her was almost enough to drive him wild, Brynjolf wanted her. He wanted her beneath him, withering in ecstasy as he pounded against her and he wanted her in his guild.

The sexual desire was understandable, one just had to look at the lass. The latter of the two was more personal; he wanted to see her skill, and he needed to know about her. It was a thirst that he almost couldn't control. Deciding silently he would make her his, Brynjolf gulped down his last swig of ale and pretended he was listening to Maven's rant.

A/N: So, how did you like it? Please review or tell me if I should continue. Thank you so much and have a good rest of your day.

3 Suicidal