Chapter Two
It had been a long time since Vlindrel Hall had been occupied and a thick layer of dust had formed on the stone counters and on all of the ornaments. It was Eve who complained first, she stepped into the centre of the hall and let a huge exasperated sigh, dropping her satchel to the floor and peeling away her armour to let her skin breathe. He watched with interest as she flitted about the rooms, picking up fallen platters and goblets and putting them back in their rightful places. She then started to clean, wiping down everything with old rags until the house seemed relatively decent.
"Well?" She stared over at Argis who had followed her around, doing nothing to help her whilst she cleaned.
"Well?" He pulled off his helmet and placed it on the side, brushing his thick ginger mane of hair out of his face.
"Don't act all innocent," She snapped, searching for weapons to hang up on the weapon racks for decoration. She had already filled the others with all the special kinds of weapons she had already found.
"I'm sorry?" He seemed a little dumbfounded but she knew he was a little stupid; years of war had messed up something in his brain.
"You could have helped clean up," She retorted a little less angry this time, "You live here more than I do," She brushed past him and began to stoke a fire in the fireplace, to give the old Dwarven stone walls some warmth and life, "Make yourself at home," She said to him knowing that he would just stand there and watch her.
He moved to the table, pouring two goblets of ale, one for himself and another for her, knowing that she loved the alcohol perhaps more than she loved having a follower. He fetched food from the pantry, tossing away any rotten fruit or bread, and even searched for ingredients to make a stew wanting to make her happy.
"What are you doing?" She watched him loom over the cooking pot, adding herbs and meat. Sweat prickled on his forehead as he worked over the fire.
"Cooking," He stated in a matter of fact tone, she scowled and poured them both another ale, getting up and handing him the goblet, "For all your hard work," She said softly catching his gaze and holding it intently, her cerulean eyes impenetrable. She smiled watching him drink and then taking the empty goblet from his callous hands, "Smells delicious," She piped up looking down into the pot, the warm bubbling coloured liquid cooking inside.
"It's almost done," He replied, pulling out two bowls and pouring the contents of the cooking pot into them both. He placed the bowl in front of her on the table and watched her devour the stew, spluttering on the hotness but preserving through the heat, wanting more to feed her belly.
"Oh God Argis," She blurted out, dunking a piece of loaf into the stew, "When did you learn to cook this well?" He let out a laugh and tore off another piece of bread to eat.
"Always," He replied with a mouth full of stew, "You never asked me to cook for you," He swallowed, his tongue burnt.
"Yeah but I didn't have to ask you to cook now and you did," She drowned the rest of the contents in her bowl and demanded seconds, "If only you'd have been in Sovngarde with me, I needed a good meal after defeating Alduin," She got herself another bowl full and readied herself to eat more, wanting her belly stuffed before another adventure.
"Aye," He replied leaning against the back of his chair, his armour a little uncomfortable to sit down in. He watched her eat another bowl, watching her stuff herself so much that she complained once it had all gone.
She slumped in the chair, a little tired and her eyes closing. Argis cleaned the bowls and put them away on the side to use again, he stoked the fire some more knowing that late at night it would become too cold. He packed away her things, putting her armour on the mannequins and placing her satchel in her bedroom that smelled faintly of them both. He perched on the end of the double bed, watching her sleeping on the chair; he remembered that night which she had since forgotten. The last night they had spent together in Vlindrel Hall before taking on Alduin, they had celebrated the Stormcloak victory, drowning themselves in wine and ale, so much of it that they were both dazed in stupor, their minds swimming with ideas and thoughts and hers had taken Argis off guard.
She had kissed him first, tossing away his helmet and crushing her lips against his. He protested slightly, thinking it was wrong to take advantage of his drunken Thane, but she kept on insisting and as she undressed he had already forgotten his morals. He embraced her, snaking his arms around her body and planted harsh kisses on her heated skin. She tugged at his armour, and muttering with a heavy thick voice for him to take it off. He obeyed not wanting to deny his Thane the satisfaction, or himself.
He carried her to the bedroom, tossing her body onto the bed, she grinned wickedly, her hair fanned out across the pillow and her posture inviting. He pulled himself on top of her, nibbling her neck and listening to her moan. She pulled away his trousers, running her fingers down his length, he growled, a little shocked by her forwardness. He had never seen this side to his Thane. She moved her hands quickly up and down his length, he groaned through gritted teeth and she relished in his enjoyment.
He moved his lips to her nipples and fondling her breasts, she squirmed against him, her blue eyes glossed over, her lips trembling. He grabbed her hands and held them against the pillows above her head; she held a wicked gleam in her eye, certainly turned on by her Housecarl's sudden dominating nature. He pushed himself into her, feeling the wetness and her arousal, she sighed fighting against his strong hands, moaning as he thrust into her, claiming her against the sheets. She revelled in the bliss, moving her hips against his movements, finding whatever leverage she could to claim him with every move.
His mind was swimming with drunken thoughts of how easy it was to punish his Thane with pleasure. He felt her body clench around him, he moved faster, moving one hand to her breasts whilst the other kept her hands at bay, knowing her wrists would bruise from his grasp. She writhed against him letting out guttural moans from the back of her throat, catching his lips and pressing desperate kisses against them.
He slammed home, feeling her groan against his lips, feeling her tighten, feeling her body arch. She caught his gaze and let out a strangled moan as pleasure cascaded through her, wetness greeting him as he lost himself in the ocean of her eyes.
She had forgotten it all by morning and had woken up with a headache and bruising on his wrists. He had moved away from the bedroom before she had stirred and was already eating breakfast, feeling awkward about last night's performance. She greeted him like nothing had happened and that was when he realised she didn't even know.
