Gillian settled into a comfortable routine while she waited for news from Aela. If she could help it, her days began with breakfast in bed (apples and cheese) accompanied by coffee and a book or two. For the rest of the morning, she brewed potions and cooked using whatever ingredients Argis had picked up in the marketplace or apothecary. He joined her in the kitchen on baking days, as he was a deft hand at making bread, although as a general rule, he'd rather shop than cook. Gillian looked forward to those mornings, as the two had developed an easy companionship, their initial misgivings about each other having vanished over the past month. She wondered if she would miss him once her time in Markarth was over, or if she simply imagined the attachment she felt for him, or looking up from her book during their fireside evenings together to find his gaze on her, the hard lines of his face softened by…attraction? Lust? Genuine affection? She wasn't sure, and although part of her wished to explore that connection, she had no idea if it was appropriate, given his duty toward her. He was right, she thought, friendship between a man and a woman was indeed a delicate thing.
They spent their afternoons together, either training, delivering supplies to the Warrens, attending council meetings with the Jarl and his staff, or hiking in the hills, where they collected ingredients for cooking and alchemy, or hunted for meat and pelts. Argis found he was happiest during those afternoons away from the city, as Gillian seemed to relax more the farther they ranged from the stone walls. As a bonus, he knew few people who could hold their own against wolves and bears, and who weren't squeamish when it came to preparing what they caught, but she proved a constant surprise.
She wasn't a typical Thane, he grudgingly admitted. For one thing, she wasn't born into money or social status; if not for the dragon blood burning through her veins, she'd be just another warrior or mage, albeit a talented one. For another, she didn't seem to want to be a Thane at all. Rather than political and scheming, she was solitary and forthright, ignoring the privileges and gifts her position and celebrity afforded her. She avoided large-scale society, and her natural Breton loquaciousness stayed hidden until she'd had a few cups of wine or a particularly exhilarating hike or training session, he mused, remembering her laughter and bright eyes as she'd finally disarmed him last week, after attempting the move a dozen times. It would be easier if she were a typical Thane, easier to think of her only in terms of the job, and not as…something else. Something he hadn't known he wanted.
He realized how much he'd become accustomed to their routine after missing Gillian for the past two days. She'd awakened Morndas morning feeling ill, and had stayed in her room all day, taking only some bread, cheese, and watered wine on a tray he'd left by her door. Although she'd claimed to be sick, Argis thought her voice had sounded strange and forced, as if she were uncomfortable with her words, but why lie about being sick? On the third day, he knocked on her door. "My Thane? Do you need me to call a healer?" He'd heard light snoring before he knocked, and blankets rustling across the bed before she answered.
"No!," she yelled, sounding half asleep. "I-I'm fine. No need to worry about me. Maybe…one more day should do it?"
He heard her head fall back on the pillow, and the feeling that something wasn't right intensified. Why would she be nervous about calling a healer? If her potions couldn't cure her after two days, someone needed to be called. If she wasn't ill, but involved in something dangerous, her bodyguard needed to know about it.
Argis camped out in the living room for the remainder of the day, dressed not in armor, but in robes enchanted with a chameleon spell. He'd taken them off a Thalmor justiciar, and they'd been useful in more than a few scouting missions over the years, as were the chameleon rings he wore. If anyone looked closely, they might see a shimmer or shadow next to the fire, but it would take a trained eye and rare focus. As night fell and the hours stretched on, he started thinking he'd made a mistake in not believing Gillian; wasn't it silly to see a plot when the simpler explanation was an illness? But, a little before midnight, her door opened. She (looking perfectly healthy, he noted) walked silently through the house and out the door to the city. Argis padded after her in his softest boots, making sure to sidestep the guards.
She walked on the high path toward Understone Keep, nodding to the palace guards as she opened the door; Argis followed, sneaking in just before it closed. She walked up the pile of rubble leading to the Nichuand-Zel excavation. What could she be doing at midnight in an old Dwemer ruin? He followed her, carefully stepping over shifting rocks and broken stone, and watched as she walked over to a mage's laboratory complete with an arcane enchanter and an alchemy table. To the right of the lab stood a small bed, upon which someone lay, curled up, blanket to chin. As he watched, the person disappeared, and the blankets shifted and flattened. Only years of training prevented him from gasping in surprise, and he followed the shimmer of a person cloaked in a chameleon spell to the passageway where he hid, pressed against the wall. The shimmer moved down the rubble-strewn incline and to the left, toward the throne room.
Argis didn't know whether to follow the shimmer or confront Gillian, who simply stood in front of the alchemy table. She was dressed like a mage, in blue robes glowing with enchantment. She carried a staff on her back, the finial pulsing with otherworldly fire. Looking down the pathway once more, he made his decision and crept up behind her. "Gillian, it's me. Chameleon gear, no one can see me."
She stiffened. "What are you doing here?" she hissed between clenched teeth. "Did you follow me?" Gillian's heart beat faster. She knew she shouldn't have pressed her luck with her 'illness,' but Aela was sure one more day was all they needed to move forward with their mission. For it to fail because she'd underestimated her housecarl…
"I did. I'm your bodyguard, remember? It's my responsibility to follow you, and I'm embarrassed it took so long for me to do so. Please tell me what's going on."
Gillian took a deep breath. "I can't tell you-"
"I. Am. Your. Bodyguard," he snarled, emphasizing each word by tapping on his chest and feeling ridiculous because she couldn't see it. "Gillian, what would it look like if you were found dead in the Keep while I was at home in my bed?"
"It would look like plausible deniability, Argis," she said, furious. "I'd rather you be a disgraced housecarl than a prisoner in Cidhna Mine, you stubborn man!"
Argis was stunned silent for a minute. "Well, that's...very thoughtful of you, but you don't get to protect me. I protect you, and if I'm to do that, I need to know what you're up against, here." He took a breath and looked over his shoulder. "And could you turn around? There's no one here, and I know you can't see me, but I feel weird talking to your back."
Gillian smiled at the uncertainty and softness in his voice, and rolled her eyes. He had no idea how to deal with anyone looking after him, for a change. "Argis, I can't leave. This is important. If you must stay, stay. But keep camouflaged, and keep out of sight." She swallowed hard, thinking about her choices. "I need to know," she said, turning around, holding a book in her hands and pretending to read it, "are you loyal to me first…or to the Jarl?" Her heart hammered in her chest, awaiting his reply.
Argis was nonplussed. Hardly knowing what to say, he fell back on his duty as her housecarl. "As long as you're not trying to overthrow the city or assassinate the Jarl, you have my loyalty and my discretion." He paused, and thought for a moment. "You're not, are you?"
"No, of course not! Gods!" Gillian sighed in relief. "Alright. I'll tell you everything, but not now. My partner will be back in a couple of hours, and I have to stay here until then, acting like…like I'm supposed to be here." Gillian frowned at Argis's disappointed huff and stretched her hand out tentatively, barely touching his invisible shoulder before pulling back and turning to her work. "I have to stay. You'll understand soon, I promise. Just stay out of sight," she pleaded with him.
