Disclaimer: Don't own and never will.
AN: This is set approxinately a day or two after you discover you're the Dragonborn. The characters in this story aren't the Dragonborn though.
"You're a long way from the Black Marshes friend," a tall blond haired Nord said as he looked down at Deren Meseh.
Deren took a sip of his beer and grimaced. Human beers were always so unsatisfying. What he wouldn't give for an Imperial Red Marsh beer, but alas, Argonian beers were impossible to come by in Skyrim.
"I am indeed, friend," he finally replied after what felt like a long time.
"And what brings you to the city of Markarth?" the Nord asked in a slightly threatening voice. "Tis a long way from home for you I wager."
Deren shrugged.
"Some might ask what business drags an Argonian to this divided land," the Nord continued and Deren shrugged once more.
"They may well ask," he said, waving his hand in the air. "But I would say that it's no business of theirs."
"It might well be their business," the Nord replied. "They might claim you to be an Imperial spy, here to trap true Nords from reclaiming their lands."
"I thought that's what they accuse the Dunmer of being," Deren said dryly before taking another swig of his beer.
"They face the same problem as you. They are," the man paused, a slight look of disgust on his face. "Outsiders from the Empire."
"The Black Marshes have left the Empire," Deren pointed out nonchantly, sipping his beer. "The Argonian people do not live under the yoke of Imperial rule any more."
"No, they do not," the Nord said and Deren returned his attention to his beer.
"However," the Nord continued, "They say that the old Argonian loyalists of the Empire found their way to the the very heart of the Empire. Some even as far as Imperial City itself"
"People say a lot of things," Deren replied nonchantly. "Not all of them true. Or clever, for that matter."
The Nord flushed and Deren resisted the urge to chuckle. This obvious Stormcloak supporter was not as subtle, or as clever as he liked to think.
"Argonians are past masters at fighting the Empire," he continued. "The Black Marshes are very hostile to outsiders and the Argonians fierce and capable fighters. I would not want to be a man who crossed them."
The Nord frowned and Deren continued.
"I cannnot imagine why an Argonian would care much for the war in Skyrim. Nor could I imagine the Empire resorting to using Argonians or Dunmer as spies. Not when they could find Nords who could take that role far better."
The Nord frowned and walked away without another word. Deren sighed to himself. Maybe coming to the Silver-Blood Inn was a bad idea tonight. Especially with rumours of the Dragonborn floating through the city. Standing up, he gulped the rest of his beer in a single swallow (although it didn't improve the taste in his opinion.) and left.
