He was covering the rear of their retreating forces when he heard it.
"Get a move on!" The captain called out from the front, his breathing ragged, as they attempt to scale the Reach's treacherous terrain. Treacherous, as no matter how high you think you've climbed, you're only a few arrows away from meeting a certain death. Especially from the Forsworn, having been raised and molded by this landscape.
He grits his teeth, abruptly reminded of the reason why they had to flee, and tightened his hold on his shield. He swore the next time he meets them in the field, he'll tear them apart, limb to limb, to show they aren't the only savages that inhabit Skyrim—
"Help!"
Turning to the call's direction had been his last mistake.
Or so it should have been. When he came to, he was greeted by the shadows dancing against the stone walls. Funny, he thinks, how he feels as though half of the world had been stolen from him. He attempts to sit up, and almost fell at his lack of balance. It was his left hand that saved him from the fall, yet somehow… he can't see it.
His head swam. No matter how hard it is to simply sit, he fixes his posture up and took deep breaths to calm himself. One… two… three… He can see his right hand and the periphery in the area quite well, he sees his fellow soldiers curled up in their furs, the fire—
The pain came much like the Forsworn into the city; unannounced.
He lurched forward, clutching at his left eye when suddenly he found himself restrained. Hands clung from his legs to his arms, binding him effectively.
"Calm down, Argis," the captain's voice said, yet he could not see him. Footsteps lightly rebounded along the walls and soon he found himself looking up at the man.
"Sir, I…" Even to himself, his voice sounded too rough.
A wooden bowl was thrust under his nose and he felt the cold wafting from it.
"Drink."
He didn't have to be told twice. The hands binding him disappeared now, and he saw his friends taking their places beside their captain, a somber look overtaking their faces.
"The Jarl and his son will be riding to Windhelm," the captain spoke once more, with the terse tone he was known for. "I will accompany them, along with a small contingent of five."
"We're not soldiers," Argis found himself blurting out, "how are we to—"
"We're not soldiers," was the mirrored reply he got, "but we're guards. And that's what we'll do until the Divines take us."
Silence enveloped them. He took this time to look carefully at the faces in front of him; faces he ate with, got drunk with, sparred with… faces he might not see again, not until this uprising has been quelled. Faces he might not see ever again once they depart.
"When?"
"Before the sun breaks on the morrow." The captain answered, "Lord Raerek will stay behind to look after the citizens. The Silver-Bloods have a pair of cooks in their employ; hence they'll oversee the meals. Nothing too fancy, you'd do well to remind them. The goal is to survive." He tempered the last statement with a look that Argis could only reply with a nod.
"What is expected of me, sir?"
"Recover. Know that you only lost an eye, not the will to live. The safety of the citizens depends on each one of you that will be left behind. Am I understood?"
Seeing the shadows dance in the stone walls of Vlindrel Hall remind him of that night.
He might be surrounded by the lavishness that come with being a housecarl, but his blood still sung with rage he wishes he had ample time to drain from his veins. Yet here he was, not quite past his prime but also not quite in those years anymore, and stuck guarding an empty house against foe that will never materialize.
Of course, he asked Jarl Igmund to instead give him a post outside where the action is, but was declined. Graciously.
"The captain asked this much from us," the young Jarl had said, almost as if placating him, "In fact, he advised me to tell you something more demeaning if it meant that you'll stand down. Wine?"
"My gratitude, my lord, but I must refuse."
He didn't mean to ambush the Jarl, but he simply had to. Just because he lost an eye doesn't mean he'll perform less with his duties!
"I implore you to understand, Argis, your father simply wanted to keep you safe… and I will never refuse a man of his dying wish."
Perhaps it is his father that the shadows remind him of. A shadow he'd chased since he was young, a shadow he never got to see after they'd left for Windhelm. A shadow he really should face someday, with pride, to tell that he'd lived out the second lease in life his father had afforded him, in his deathbed.
Perhaps he needed wine, after all.
The creak of the front door begged to differ.
"This is kidnapping."
An outlandish gasp resounded from the front door.
"In the eyes of the law, you are my children—!"
"Right, children you forcibly took home, more like."
"I agree."
Their footfalls bounced off the walls, as though announcing an impending doom. Or responsibility the housecarl didn't ask for.
"Argis! Just the man I was looking for."
The Dragonborn walked in, a wide grin plastered across his face, a tell-tale sign of trouble. He never would have walked in if he didn't have bad intentions to begin with.
"See I found these little unfortunate souls—"
"We were getting by quite nicely by ourselves, if we're being honest."
"Sleeping under the stars has its merits, after all."
"For the love of Mara, shut up and let me talk!"
For someone whose power comes from his voice, it's almost too easy to talk over him.
"Right," he continued after clearing his throat, "These little urchins (said urchins made a face with this word) aimlessly walked around the Reach, scamming people off their honest gold—"
"Hey!" Was the resounding objection.
"Selling useless Dwemer junk." The Dragonborn looked pointedly at the two children, who looked away in response. "So, I've taken it upon myself to provide for them, lest the Forsworn chance upon them and," he stared them down further, "carve their hearts out for them. But you'd rather prefer that, don't you?"
"Uh…" the dark-haired boy muttered, "no?"
When the other boy didn't react, this child elbowed him in the ribs. He got a glare instead.
"Right, that settles it!"
No, it doesn't, was what Argis wanted to say, but for some reason, he found himself speechless. First, his Thane who comes by only once a moon's turn, makes his second appearance right after leaving last week. Second, he brings back children of all things.
Sure, his opinion of the Dragonborn hasn't really been favorable. The man was inside Cidhna Mine and promptly broke out, then became Thane—anyone with eyes can see why that's suspicious. His actions after becoming Thane made him even more suspicious; who in their right mind would break into the Temple of Dibella, shortly after being pardoned? Even if he blames it on some guy challenging him to a drinking contest… something's clearly not right inside the Dragonborn's head.
Perhaps it is the fact that he is the Dragonborn that makes him strange. Too bad he ruined everyone's image of the legend the moment he existed.
Said Thane probably said something more that he missed while he was lost in his thoughts.
"...They're pretty self-sufficient, I'm sure they know how to cook for themselves. They'll stay out of your way if you prefer, but I think it'd be best to share at least one meal a day together." He rambled on, before giving Argis a look that's almost apologetic, "I imagine it can get lonely being all by yourself, after all."
He found himself speechless once more. Perhaps there's more to this man than just his eccentricities.
"Now children, introduce yourselves to Argis the Bulwark. He will be with you most days especially when I'm—"
"Out enjoying Skyrim on your own?"
"Getting almost killed by a bear?"
"There are far worse monsters than just bears!" The Dragonborn exclaimed, before hearing the snickers the two rascals were exchanging at his expense. "The Divines must really hate you both for you to end up in my house."
"They hate you more though," the redhead retorted, "it was you who had the misfortune to meet us."
The man deflated with a sigh, as more snickers filled the hall. Argis finds that he doesn't hate the sound at all.
"Anyway, Argis will look after you—"
"How can he look after us if he only has one eye?"
That child got elbowed in the ribs once more. At least he has a brother to keep him in line.
"I lost one eye," Argis found himself saying, "but not my will to live."
The dark-haired child is called Bottar, the redhead is Sond. They were not brothers, they clarified as they told their story over dinner, but friends. Now they're brothers.
"Legally, thanks to one meddling man," Sond had commented loudly.
The housecarl noticed that they talk quite a lot, but not once did he see a bored expression cross over his Thane's face. Perhaps he too, understood how it is to be out in the wild, with only yourself to rely on. After the children has exhausted their chatter for the night and retired to their room, he found the Dragonborn adjusting the straps of his armor near the hearth. His shadow, Argis noted, made bigger by his plates and longer against the wall, was steady. He remembers the night his father bid him goodbye, and steels himself for the departure.
"Argis," the other man called out, hands now putting on the Orcish gauntlet that completed his ensemble. "You'll find gold in the chest at the foot of my bed. Should be enough for months, but I'll still send couriers to deliver more. They're growing children; they'll be a handful and annoying, so I ask for your patience in dealing with them."
He stood now, facing him, with the flames behind giving him a glow so powerful that almost made the housecarl buckle in his presence. Perhaps it is the dragon in his Thane addressing him now, making him want to cower in submission.
"Don't hesitate to send a courier should any danger arise. I know that I'll be leaving them in your capable hands, but one can never be too sure. With the war raging in and out of Skyrim, the goal is to survive."
The familiarity of words brought warmth to his chest. Even long after he's left the hearth to see off his Thane, he remained warm, no goblet of wine needed.
"Look after the house for me, won't you?"
Argis inclined his head a bit lower than the usual as the Dragonborn exited.
"Honor to you, my Thane."
A/N: Sure, the kids will move to the nearest settlement wherever you meet them, but why oh why can't you just adopt them!? Still, hope you enjoy this one, even if it's not as biting as the first one. Cheers!