Chapter 9

Jorik swallowed nervously, unsure what the man wanted. He didn't see rage, or anger, actually he saw no emotions in the man's eyes. It made him very nervous not knowing what Argis was thinking.

"My Thane is that…?" Lydia voice trailed off, when Jorik head snapped towards her with a warning look.

"You're a Thane now?" Argis asked with a raised brow, surprise clear in his voice.

"A Thane of Whiterun. It was Jarl Balgruuf's idea to give me the title," Jorik answered quietly.

Argis turned his attention to the woman sitting across from Jorik. She was alert, ready to protect her Thane in a moment's notice. He noticed her hand hovering near her sword as she watched him carefully. He glanced at Jorik and back to the woman, "Give us a few minutes," Argis requested, but he already knew the answer. No housecarl would leave their Thane's side, not when they thought there was danger near. And he could see this woman thought he was a danger. He didn't blame her, it wasn't as if he was a small man, and with the scars he carried people knew he was a fighter.

"No," Lydia stated, not budging an inch from her spot. She glared at the man audacity in asking her to leave. She glanced at her Thane and noticed sadness in his eyes. He wasn't scared, but whatever was going on bothered him greatly.

"Lydia, give us a few minutes," Jorik murmured tiredly. He heard her sigh, and noticed the worried look but he ignored it all. He sat there rigidly as he listened to her retreating steps. Once he knew she was away from them he turned his attention to Argis. The moment he had been dreading had come. He wondered what was to happen now.

Argis took the seat Lydia had sat in. He watched the man across from him and could see defeat in his eyes. The past sat in between them, making this meeting awkward and tense. He wondered what Jorik was thinking, what he was expecting. From the looks of it, nothing good. The larger man sat there tense, waiting for a blow or something worse.

The silence was tense, and Argis decided to fill it. He knew if he didn't start the conversation, then nothing would be said. "After you left, my father had me working for your father for a time," Argis commented. "After a year of working for your father I went back to my own family and found them dead," Argis stated. Anger burned through him for a moment, but long ago he had forgiven Jorik. Jorik's father had told him many times why the man left. How the man sitting across from him never forgave himself for the loss of his eye. Most would still be angry, but he remembered the look on Jorik's face when the injury happened. He remembered how quickly Jorik reacted to fix the injury. He remembered the tormented look on the young man's face.

He couldn't be angry, not with all he remembered and he could see that Jorik still hadn't forgiven himself.

"I didn't know," Jorik answered softly, with his head bowed. He would take whatever anger this man wished to dish out. He deserved no less.

"Haven't you talked with your father yet?" Argis asked belligerently, his eyes narrowing. He was surprised that Jorik hadn't spoken with his father.

"No. Instead I watched him die," Jorik answered, raising his eye to meet a crystal blue eye.

"What?" Argis was startled, he hadn't heard Aden died. He didn't even know Jorik had come back until he stepped into the inn.

"The dragon attack on Helgen took their lives. Dad died just before they place my head on the block," Jorik told him.

Argis nodded, "Your father told us why you left," he muttered shaking his head in annoyance.

"You're proof that I was a danger. Instead of training with people I knew, I left to learn elsewhere," Jorik stated with a sigh. He really did want this talk. He just wanted to be done so he could forget all the mistakes he had done in his life. From the sound of it, him leaving caused a lot of problem.

Argis stayed silent, he didn't know what to say to that. It was true, because of Jorik he lost his sight in one eye. But from what he knew of the lad back then he didn't strike him as someone who ran. Argis knew more was going on, nothing added up.

"Why were your heading for the headman block?" Argis asked. It bothered him slightly that Aden's son might be a criminal.

"For crossing the border," Jorik bit out. His voice cold, a warning not to ask anymore.

Argis stayed silent, with the rebellion going on it didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was Jorik's attitude. He had heard many stories, from different people while he was a lad, but none of those stories match the man sitting here.

He gave a sharp nod and rose to his feet, "I need to head back to the Jarl," Argis said and walked away with a glance over his shoulder.

~ooooooooooooo~

Lydia moved back to her Thane's table and took a seat. She hadn't been that far away, but she worried for her Thane now.

"We'll sleep here the night and head back to Whiterun in the morning," Jorik ordered and stormed from the table. He made his way to his room slamming the door in the process. His frustration was at an all-time high. He paced the small room trying to keep control of himself. He knew if he didn't control his emotions…

He felt it, a pressure in his chest wanting release. The shout was just on the tip of his tongue ready to fly from his mouth. He sat heavily on the bed covering his face with his hands, taking deep easy breaths.

"Jorik," Lydia called through the door. Hesitantly she opened the door and saw her Thane staring at the door with black eyes. Quickly she stepped inside and closed the door waiting for him to get control.

"Jorik, you should take a walk outside of the city," she told him quietly. She backed away as he opened the door and left. Quickly she followed after him at a distance.

~oooooooooooo~

Jorik stepped outside of Markarth and kept walking. He felt the cold air on his skin and did nothing for him.

He walked over to the clearing near where the city lay and felt it. Chanting, a thrumming beat through his being. He glanced around for the wall, but saw nothing. The beat grew within him and a loud roar filled the skies.

Jorik looked up and met the eyes of a dragon hovering above him. FUS RO DAH he shouted and watched the dragon sway. He drew his bow, knocking an arrow and letting them fly one after another.

Lydia stay back shooting arrows as Jorik switched to his swords. Right now she thought her Thane insane. Though it wouldn't be the first time that thought came to her. Her Thane was once more fighting a dragon while talking to it in the draconic language. She didn't understand a word of it, but the dragon seemed to and wasn't happy. The really odd thing, it wasn't his voice, her Thane had a deep smooth voice, one of someone who was educated. This voice held power, someone who knew they couldn't be defeated.

She gasped when another figure joined the fighting. Her eyes widened when she saw it was the man from earlier. They were both using bows while Jorik fought up close. The other guards were fighting too, but they were using iron arrows. Iron barely worked on dragons other than piss them off.

"Why is his eyes black?" Argis asked as he watched Jorik.

"That is for him to explain," Lydia stated, not once stopping to shooting arrows at the dragons. She sighed in relief as the dragon fell. Quickly she moved to Jorik's side ready to catch him when he collapsed.

Jorik felt like his body was being ripped apart and being remade as the soul entered him. He hated taking the soul. He groaned and collapsed to one knee as the soul flood him, filling him beyond endurance. He felt like his mind was about to explode. One good thing, the chanting was gone and his body didn't feel like something calling to it anymore.

He hissed as Lydia helped him to his feet. "I'm heading to the inn," he muttered.

"What was that?" Another voice asked. Jorik looked up sharply and found Argis standing there looking at him curiously.

"I'm dragonborn," Jorik told him. He took a step, his worst mistake. Blackness ate his vision and the last thing he remembers was Lydia's annoyed voice.

"What the fuck!" Argis jumped quickly and caught the limp body from falling to the ground. "What the hell happened?"

"He moved before he should have," Lydia muttered with annoyed scowl.

Argis shrugged and hoisted the limp body over his shoulder. It was a struggle, Jorik was larger than him by a little. He followed the housecarl to their room at the inn. "I need to report this to the Jarl." He muttered and left.

~oooooooooooooooo~

"What do you mean the dragonborn is in my city and passed out?!" The Jarl Igmund shouted at Argis.

"We fought a dragon outside of the city," Argis explained.

"Why isn't a priestess looking him over?" Jarl Igmund growled his annoyance. Argis may be his best fighter, but he was costing him more than he was willing to pay for one person. In a way he wished Argis wasn't so good, then he could keep him in his military, but with his aptitude with fighting, the price he should be paying for Argis was too much. Pretty soon he would have to replace Argis. But first he would have to get rid of the Nord. There was only one mission he knew of that would do the job. No one had survived getting the shield of his father yet. In a bit, after the dragonborn left and things settled down he would send Argis out to retrieve the shield.

"His housecarl said there was no need," Argis answered, bowing his head respectfully.

Igmund hissed "Dismissed, but if the dragonborn dies…" his warning was clear.

Argis rushed out of the room and headed to the inn where the dragonborn was. He was shocked that Jorik was the dragonborn.

The inn was bustling, he didn't see the housecarl or dragonborn anywhere. "What room is Jorik's?" Argis asked.

"To the right," the bartender answered with a nod.

Argis knocked on the door, and was surprised that it was Jorik that answered. "Something I can do for you?" Jorik asked as he opened the door wider to allow the man in.

Jorik watched as he took a seat on one of the chairs. He was surprised seeing him here again. Lydia had told him what happened earlier, and wondered if it had to do with that.

"Jarl Igmund, wanted me to make sure that you were fine," Argis answered with a scowl.

"You can tell him that I survived," Jorik said with a slight chuckle. Yep it was definitely time to leave this place, he thought to himself.

~ooooooooo~

A week later Jorik walked into Jorrvaskr, Farkas was at the table eating with everyone else. "Finished the mission," Jorik told him as he took a seat and grabbed some food.

"Good, Skjor wanted to see you," Farkas told him.

"You know what he wants?"

"It's your time boy, Farkas will be your shield brother on this mission. A scholar stopped by and told us where one of the fragments were," Skjor explained from across the table.

"We'll leave in the morning," Jorik stated.

"Jorik, follow me," Vilkas ordered. Jorik looked at him curious and with a shrug followed him down to his room. "How did…"

Jorik cut him off abruptly, "Things are fine. I've talk to Argis," Jorik said, his eyes warning not to push further.

"What about…"

"Vilkas, leave it!" Jorik snapped and stormed out of Jorrvaskr.

"No, I'm not going to leave it," Vilkas snapped, following the nord. He stopped Jorik, with a rough hand on his shoulder. He could feel the tension coming off of him in waves.

He didn't want to see Jorik running off again, they needed him here. Things were running smoothly now that they had a worthy fighter. The requests that they had been backed up on were getting done. He knew it was mostly to do with Jorik.

"We talked, thing are settled… I guess. He doesn't want me dead, so that is good news," Jorik answered with a shrug.

"What else?" Vilkas asked, with an intent look.

"Why? Why do you want to know?" Jorik asked, frustration thick in his voice.

"The last time you ran it affected your family," Vilkas told him.

Jorik sighed, he was hearing a lot of that. First his family, then Argis, and now Vilkas. He didn't know how his leaving affected him or anyone here, and he didn't want to know. Right now, it was too much. He looked up at the mountain where the Greybeards lived and made his decision, he would do what he is supposed to be doing and quit dwelling on everything else.

It was time as far as he was concerned.