Wanderer

Chapter One

Hi guys! I've been working on something new whilst continuing to write My Love and since I love Argis and Eve so much I ended up writing a little something that preludes both My Thane and My Love (OTP 4 LYF). I wanted to flesh out their relationship, discover more of Eve's past and re-live some of the events that happened at the beginning of Argis' and Eve's journey.

Wanderer is set a few years before My Thane and My Love.

Weeks after Bran's death Eve finds herself at the mountains. Dragons? Talking dragons? Were these old men serious? Why on Nirn was she expected to save Skyrim, why was it solely down to her? She was the drunkard, the wanderer with a past shut away, besides she wasn't even getting paid. No-one would outright walk to their death without getting paid first.

X

The doors to Understone Keep swung open, thudding against their adjacent walls and thundering an echo throughout the Jarl's Dwarven fortress. The guards fell to attention, a woman with large brown eyes and blonde hair and a man with wrinkles around his sunken blue ones with grey hair just visible beneath his helmet watched her cautiously. They both eyed the visitor that strolled through the hall. Blood splattered greaves and a dripping sword in one hand, Eve was the portrait of a warrior, or so she thought. She merrily hummed a tune to herself, sheathing her weapon and quickly wiping herself down. One must always look presentable she thought to herself.

Her boots echoed off the stone floor, her presence known before she had even tried to be silent. She was the Dragonborn after all and her face was famous. Servants scurried along in front of her, cleaning and dusting and making the rubble of the fortress a little sightlier. This place was falling apart, it was dust and mechanical whirring and there was something deeply unsettling about the whole Dwarven business. In fact the entirety of Markarth oozed with mystery and with the animosity of the ancients. Or maybe that was just the unwelcoming people.

She'd buy the house and move on like she had done with the other holds. She was rich and she needed ways to spend the coin that filled her purse. Buying houses was the sure way to go. Shame it was always a pain in the ass talking to the rich-ass bigots that sat happily on their throne barely doing anything for the people of their hold. Jarl Igmund was no different and Eve tried her best to keep conversations short and nonchalant, any talk of the war and she'd sever his throat in a second. He was a supporter of the Imperials and Eve was full of disdain towards that, and it clearly showed.

She wondered if everyone in this stony hell hole felt the same as the Jarl. She hoped they didn't or there wouldn't be any hope for the Reach when she joined Ulfric's legions. The thought excited her, one last task and she could hike to Windhelm and sign up and finally find a purpose and take revenge. She hoped he would take one look at her and accept her, a scrawny little brat that was thirsty for blood and gold. She'd be the best damn fighter the Stormcloaks ever saw, and the bonus was she'd get to see Ralof again and get to thank him properly for saving her ass during their execution.

The coals burned viciously, the fires licking up the old walls with smoke billowing out and causing her path to be obscured by its presence. Eve took two steps at a time, chatter abundant ahead. Dwarven machinery littered the walls and the pillars, the familiar gold and alien-like mechanics still as creepy as always.

Faleen the Jarl's Housecarl, a Redguard woman adorned in finely polished steel armour was stood in her usual spot next to the Mournful throne. Jarl Igmund slouched with one arm bent and his head resting on its palm, his eyes closing as the day's events of being Jarl and sitting on his ass, took hold. Eve was glad she had gotten to him before he decided to waddle off to bed in his expensive robes.

The Jarl's Housecarl eyed her suspiciously as she approached the throne; the Jarl turned his attention to her and shifted from his slouched position. He was obviously put off by the blood that coated her armour with the slight disgusted look plastered on his face. Eve ignored it, clearing her throat and hoping, in silence, that this was the last job that she would have to do to appease the son of a bitch.

"I've helped your people as you asked," Eve said clearly, hiding any trace of annoyance from her voice. Being put in prison and fighting her way out with the Forsworn had been the last straw, if there was anything more to do then she would damn well forget about Markarth and move on to some other city. The only bonus had been getting paid and getting a chance to improve on her skills.

He lifted his head up from his palm and leaned back against his throne, the circlet on his balding head slipping down to his eyebrows.

"Then by my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of the Reach. Congratulations." It didn't feel like congratulations, in fact he looked damn right unhappy that he had just declared her such. Eve avoided a pout, what was she supposed to get a hug and thanks for saving the Reach? Yeah would have been nice.

"I grant you a personal Housecarl," He continued, "To watch over your home and a weapon from my armoury to serve as your badge of office." She didn't need another weapon, or another Housecarl. In fact she didn't even want the home; it was just a store-house for all the random junk she had collected on her travels to Markarth and the shit she had picked up whilst trying to appease the Jarl. Eve didn't even know how she could carry all of it.

"I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble now," He said with a little chuckle. Even with words from the Jarl she was sure the guards would still throw her dirty looks and mutter about how she was still an outsider to Markarth, and good too. She didn't want them getting too soft when she decided to cause a little ruckus now and again.

Faleen appeared at her side holding in her hands a short one-handed axe. Eve looked at it, that was her prize? An axe? Eve took it off the Redguard with a sigh and resigned herself to thanking the Jarl and leaving. So she was Thane and now had an axe to show for it.

After buying her new house and handing over the gold it had cost, she left Understone Keep with a half-smile. Her pouch felt light and although it would be filled in no time Eve still had that sort of empty regret. A house she thought, yes that what she had been here for in the first place, the damn house.

Eve navigated through the city, following the stream and crossing over the bridges she needed to before finding the large stone steps that lead up to her newly purchased home. Suddenly nervous that someone was already in there made Eve's palms sweat. She had been exactly the same with Lydia and with Iona in Honeyside. She hoped her new servant would remain as quiet and uninterested as the others had. That kind of attitude had worked so far. After all Eve didn't have friends, she had learnt the hard way that loved ones always got hurt and she would rather have none than let them get hurt.

She pushed her way through the heavy iron doors and let them slam behind her as she walked into Vlindrel Hall. In a strange way it felt homey, with the fires burning and the food in the pantry. As she kept walking she stepped into what seemed the largest room. It was adorned with one large oak table surrounded by oak chairs and cluttered with drink and an assortment of food. On one side of the room lay the fire place with a cooking pot and spit, food was already cooking and it smelt divine. On the other side lay doors to other rooms and Eve was eager to explore her newly purchased house.

With a grin she slipped her sword from her back and let it drop to the floor with a clatter. She undid the laces of her armour and peeled off each layer until she remained in her linen undershirt and small leather shorts she had cut out from a stolen pair of trousers. She left all of her stuff in a heap on the floor and shuffled about the house, peeking into each room.

One for Alchemy, not exactly her speciality but if she stayed here long enough she could always learn. Racks adorned the walls ready for her weapons and several wooden mannequins in the main room were ready to be clothed. The smell of food followed her around the house and her stomach let out a little growl. She didn't know how to cook and usually bought what she wanted at the time, but with something already cooking on the spit she felt rude.

Eve opened the one of the last two mysterious doors and found herself in heaven. The double bed was situated in the middle of the room with an ottoman at its feet. Wardrobes lined the walls and a chandelier sprouted from the ceiling, giving off a calming aura of pale orange. Belly forgotten, Eve flopped down onto the bed and rolled herself up in the duvet. This bed was perfect, was more than perfect and she was tempted to forgo the Stormcloak rebellion if it meant she could stay in this bed forever.

A bang of a door jolted Eve upright. She wiped her eyes quickly realising she had fallen asleep. She slipped quickly from the covers, reaching for her sword before remembering she had left it out near the hall. She cussed and crept towards the door, opening it up only the slightest amount and peeping through the gap.

A chair creaked and she caught the silhouette of the intruder. Long blondish hair hung to his broad shoulders, a sword lay on the table with a shield at his heel. His armour groaned as he moved, pouring himself a drink and smacking his lips together in satisfaction. The nerves Eve had felt before returned in full force and her hunger turned to sickness and she pouted. He definitely had the build of a Nord, the hair colour for it. But those could be misleading, maybe if he turned his head and she could catch a glimpse and she'd see that he was secretly a flesh coloured Orc.

Catching her nerves Eve moved from her bedroom, purposefully slamming the door behind her so that her presence would be known. The man at the table held his drink in mid-air, pausing before slamming it down and before Eve could even speak he had grabbed the sword from the table and was holding it against her neck.

"Uh," Eve feared even swallowing, "Can you not." She muffled, staring from the blade to the man wielding it. Definitely a Nord, handsome too, but clearly a bit dim.

"Who are you?" He looked her up and down, jaw clenching and pupils dilating. Veins bulged at his biceps and his knuckles were blanched white as he clung to the blades hilt. Eve noticed the muscle underneath his armour, he was huge and Eve was dwarfed in front of him. She thought of all the things she could get away with him at her side, she'd be the best thief in the business, with houses full of jewels and gold. No enemy could stand a chance against him.

"I'm you new Thane," She said more clearly, trying to carefully move her neck away from the blades edge, only for the man to press it against her again. He really didn't believe her? She'd never had this much trouble with Lydia or Iona, then again it wasn't as if she had spooked them.

"Aye," He moved the blade from her neck and placed it back down on the table, probably to be sharpened later, "Long life to you Thane." He turned his back and Eve caught the glimpse of his broad shoulders again, admiring the way his armour fitted him. She was still too scrawny to fill out her armour and after recently favouring her guild armour she really did need to bulk up a bit more.

"No apologies that you almost cut my head off?" Eve watched him move to his chair, take a seat and pick up the cup of drink he had put down. She crossed her arms imperviously realising that she probably didn't look like any Thane he had seen before. She still was in her a smalls with a light blouse barely covering her and not exactly looking like the toughest warrior. But he didn't need to know that she had accidentally fallen asleep.

He turned his head, the light from the fire flickering against his face. He gave her a questioning look and she finally noticed the colour of his eyes; amber, "I don't like people who don't know how to look after their armour and weapons."

"I know how to look after my things!" She insisted, rising onto her tip-toes and seeing the heap near the entrance to the hall. Okay, sort of, but she had been itching to undress, to feel the freedom of her small clothes. And besides she had every right to do what she wanted, she owned the house and he had no right to judge her. Lydia and Iona hadn't uttered a word about her messiness so she was definitely not going to have any from him.

"Aye," He replied, words dripping with sarcasm, "If you need anything just call." He re-filled his tankard, brought it to his lips and took a large gulp of whatever he was drinking. Just watching him made Eve want to drink it too.

"Call who?" She mocked, "How do I call a man with no name?" She moved to a chair on the opposite side of the table. She sat down and watched him for a moment before pouring herself a drink. Eve licked her lips and felt the alcohol burn her throat as she accidentally drank too much.

"Argis," He scowled watching her splutter for air, "Argis the Bulwark."

"Nice to meet you," Eve croaked, clearing her throat several times before reaching for a pail of water to soothe the burn in her throat, "I'm Eve or Evelyn, whichever you prefer."

"No need my Thane," He didn't even look at her. Divines what was his problem? "I'll call you that and nothing else."

Eve made a little face at him before reaching for another drink, avoiding the ale completely. That stuff was strong, nothing she had ever had at any Inn she had stayed at on her journey. It was similar to what Brynjolf had given her that one night, well that one night she would not like to remember. Was Argis trying to poison her to get out of his oath or something, and why was he acting so cold? It wasn't as if she had done anything to him. Divines he didn't even know her and she wasn't even sure why it bothered her so much.

She frowned, staring into the bottom of her tankard at the swirling liquid inside it. She glanced at him quickly catching the faintest of smiles curling at the corners of his lips. That was it. He was definitely trying to poison her.

The arrogant bastard probably didn't like serving a woman. Eve slammed her tankard on the table and reached for a loaf of bread, breaking it apart and stuffing one end in her mouth before she could accuse him of anything. So they had gotten off on the wrong foot, tomorrow would be better, or maybe she'd leave and never have to see him again. But that bed was calling her, the little slice of heaven in her very dark world, yes, that bed would keep her here and she'd have to deal with Argis' bad attitude for it.

He'd have to remember that he served her and not the other way around. She called the shots, and she had the right to boss him around in whatever way she wanted.

"Argis," She said through a mouthful of food.

"Yes, my Thane?" Again not even a glance in her direction, he stared at the pages of a book he had taken off the shelf a moment ago.

"Pick my armour off the floor and put it on one of the mannequins will ya?" She picked crumbs off the table with her index finger and popped each one into her mouth. A smile curled at her lips when she heard the annoyed little huff he made followed by the scratching of wood against stone.

He did what she asked without question and then moved back to his seat. Eve caught his glance briefly, mouthing a thank you. After that he went back to ignoring her, and Eve was persistent in her attempts to either annoy him or just get him to talk. No-one infuriated her like Argis did, his whole attitude made her angry, she didn't even know the guy and she was sure she was going to hate him or end up maiming him, either way it was less for her to be concerned about.

Later that evening Eve was mooching through the pantry, delighted over the amount of food that was on display but saddened at the fact most of it had to be cooked. Hares were strung up by their feet above her head along with garlic and ginger. In baskets lay apples and oranges and other fruit that she used to grow on the farm when she was little. She picked up an apple, one that was a delicious looking red and rubbed it against her shirt before taking a bite out of it. Eve hadn't tasted anything this good since she had resided in the cistern. Vekel was a great cook and Divines she would miss it.

Searching through baskets she put together an assortment of vegetables and untied one of the hares from their perch, she stuffed it all into a basket and carried it to the stove with an apple still in her mouth. Argis could cook for himself; he deserved that after his bad attitude. Besides she was sure her cooking would likely poison him or worse and she'd rather not deal with a sick Nord as well having to deal with his awful mood.

Eve rolled up her sleeves and tucked the ends of her linen shirt into her leather shorts and tied them tightly. She curled her hair behind her ears before finding a little band to tie it up with. Then she started on the cooking, a sweat prickling on her brow almost immediately as she leaned over the stove to pour water and stock into the cooking pot.

After leaving home she hadn't really needed to cook for herself, when she was younger she got a hot meal at an Inn and when she was older, well she learned how to steal things. There was a part of her life where she hadn't needed to do anything but her job; the rest was obsolete in her mind, meals came easy and so did the men. Until she found him.

Eve wiped a knife she had swiped off the table on her shirt before using it to cut the vegetables she had taken from the pantry. Her dark past riddled with corruption and deceit, and yet he, Bran, was the never-ending light that had given her a reason to keep on breathing. Not that it mattered now, the light had been extinguished almost a year ago and she had slipped back into her old ways.

She threw all the chopped vegetables in the cook pot along with the skinned and diced hare. She also poured in some sort of sweet tasting mead for good measure. The outcome of the meal would be decided whenever she thought it looked cooked, an hour tops, she hoped.

Occasionally she stirred the mixture, the smell rising from it not exactly the nicest and definitely not as mouth-watering as the food she had smelt when she walked in. Clearly Argis had eaten all of that, leaving none for little old her.

"You're over-cooking the hare," The rumble of a man's voice made her jump.

"Divines, what the hell is your problem?" Eve almost shrieked, swinging the ladle in his direction. He caught it easily before it could collide with the side of his face. Quick reflexes, lots of muscles, a strong jaw line definitely a capable warrior...

"You're over-cooking the hare," He repeated handing her back the ladle. She took it with a scowl.

"And what's it to you? It's not your hare," She snarled, face burning and not really knowing why. She poured over the cooking pot and stared down at the bubbling brown liquid within. It really didn't look appetising at all.

"I bought it." Eve could still feel him next to her after a long pause. Did he plan on giving her cooking lessons or something? Or was he waiting for her to open her mouth so he could insult her again?

"Do you have to stand and watch me fail? You're making me nervous," Eve said quietly, shuffling away from his personal space but still being able to reach the stove.

"I didn't mean to my Thane," This time Argis moved away and instead slouched against the corner of the stove, watching her. Eve pouted into the cooking pot, so now he was interested in looking at her when her face was shiny from the sweat pouring from her forehead? Great. "You could have asked me to cook you something."

"I don't need someone to cook for me," Defences back up, Eve swirled the ladle in his direction again, and quick enough that he didn't even catch it. It bounced off his shoulder plate and onto the floor. She turned to him and glared up at the man at least half a foot taller than her, "I can cook," She punctuated every word with a growing stare, hoping it might force him to stop picking on her. Eve was tired of whatever game he was playing and thoroughly debating just getting her sweet ass out of Markarth and moving on to better prospects.

"Aye, by over-cooking the hare I bought," Eve caught onto the hint of playfulness in his voice. Her gaze softer she gave him a pout and moved to pour the disaster into a bowl to eat.

She moved to the table feeling Argis' gaze follow her but he remained slouching against the stove wall. Wasn't he getting all hot over there? Especially in his heavy iron armour, which Eve still admired. He did look great, there was no denying that and with his sudden change in attitude perhaps all wasn't wrong with the world.

With a little satisfied smile Eve picked up a loaf of bread and began breaking it apart. She moved each bread piece in the bowl until it was coated in the stew playing with her food more than she should have. But she couldn't deny that it wasn't exactly appealing and just looking at the lumpy brown concoction didn't really make her stomach growl, in fact it clenched in horror. Maybe that was why Argis was watching her.

Eve looked up. Yep, still looking and still wearing a fiendish little smile that twisted the corners of his lips. Idiot, she cursed herself, stop looking at him. But she couldn't help it and managed to take the first mouthful of the stew without acknowledging the taste. That little smile. Everything about that smile.

The light from the stove served to make him look even more attractive. Divines what was her problem? Eat the stew; forget about the man in front of you who clearly is only interested in making your life worse. He probably has a girl he is sweet on. Get a grip. The thought made Eve's stomach sink, disappointment already? What was there to be disappointed about? He was a man she could quite easily get into her bedroom if she tried, she was certain that it was possible but she wasn't going to cross that boundary. He was the Housecarl, she was the Thane he certainly had other uses to her other than keeping her bed warm.

Like all that muscle. Yes, that muscle. Argis was clearly a capable fighter and she would test out his abilities as soon as possible. Maybe she would even ask him on his standing on the war and make him tag along on her adventures. That would surely cure the incessant loneliness she felt on long adventures. Perhaps she could even make a friend out of him one day, give it some time let him adjust to her messy ways and hopefully things could progress from there. But no flirting, she insisted to herself. Definitely no flirting.

"Nice?" Argis' voice brought her from her reverie and she nodded in earnest, face red as the coals that burned in the stove. He didn't know of course, that she was thinking about him, innocently of course but Eve could see that changing if she didn't rail in her thoughts quick. She'd end up being strung up over his muscles and amber eyes in no time.

Argis wasn't her type. He was the opposite of what Bran was. But he was devilishly charming and she cursed Jarl Igmund for giving her this hunk of a man. Eve stop she insisted to herself. She gobbled down the rest of the soup rarely chewing and avoided choking completely. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve gave Argis a look over and abandoned the room.

The bedroom was her safe haven.

Forget about him Eve and curl up and go to sleep. She repeated the words to herself like they were a divine mantra. Tomorrow was a different day and she'd deal with it completely differently. It would not be like today that was for certain. There would be no snide comments coming from Argis. There would be no teasing or blushing, instead Eve would show him the warrior that she was, the kind of warrior that she wanted to become. No flirting, no small talk, just business.