AN: First off, I make no profit off of this and Bethesda owns everything. I put out the first chapter for this fic a while ago, but as this is my first fic the first chapters are in need of additional work. The story itself, like the summary said, is centered around Argis and how he eventually marries the dragonborn. It will focus primarily on Argis' life. This will contain M/M pairing, and eventually explicit sex, but the graphic scenes will always be flagged and allow for you to just move to the next chapter without missing relevant information.

Reviews/criticism/comments are greatly appreciated! Even if you hate it, I would like to know why.

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"It doesn't have to end this way," called the figure from above as two globes of fire magicka ignited in his hands. Squinting his good eye against the sudden light, Argis the Bulwark raised his shield with a resigned sigh and knew that it would not stop the attack. Argis was old and tired, and having lived well for decades he really couldn't complain about the ending to it. As the two hands pulled back to throw their fiery burdens, Argis raised his shield one last time. Under the illusory shelter of the dragonbone shield, he snorted in surprise. It really was true what they say – your life does flash before your eyes right before you die.

In a small farm somewhere to the east of Markarth lives were unravelling.

A dishevelled looking farmer bellowed at a young man, "You can't leave! You know we need you for the harvest. Besides, you're too young for this!"

Shouting back, the young man replied, "You heard what he said – if I don't go, we'll all be branded traitors."

A young girl clung to her mother's skirts and looked fearfully at the two men who continued to exchange harsh words, not understanding why her brother would have to go.

"Stop chasing empty glory and fortune, boy!" roared the old man, "They'll take you nowhere and get your nothing!"

"I'm not!" shouted the boy, and then in a much quieter voice, "I'm not. I have to go, because if I don't, we're all going to get hurt."

The man sucked in another breath for a loud rebuttal but his wife stepped forward and gently placed her hand on his arm, forestalling his tirade. She spoke softly, having listened to the angry words long enough, "Let him go. He's been itching to leave the farm for a long time and he's doing what he thinks is right. You'll never really stop him if he believes he's on the right path."

The old man seemed to deflate under his wife's touch and quietly nodded, all of the fire had gone out of him, "Go, Argis. Go and fight and die for a war that has nothing to do with you. Die for a man who doesn't care about you at all." He stepped back and looked away for a moment before looking back to Argis with his eyes glassy from unshed tears.

The woman stepped forward and gently embraced her son, who was quivering with the effort of holding back his own tears. She crooned soothingly as he stroked his blonde hair, wished him well, and released him with a brave smile.

His father held his composure for a moment more before rushing forward and sweeping his son into a tight embrace, uttering in a cracked voice, "Stand tall, lad. If you think you're doing the right thing, then do it with all your heart. Go now."

Argis quickly shouldered the pack he had prepared and opened the door, stepping outside. The last thing he heard was his sister's shrill voice asking, "Mama, where's Argis going? Mama? When will he come back?"

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Argis strode quickly towards the military camp that was set up not far from his home of Frost Oak Farm. He was still emotionally shaken by the events that went on at the farmstead, but he was resolute in joining Ulfric Stormcloak's army to fight the Forsworn menace. While Argis' family had never been attacked by the Forsworn, he knew of other families that had suffered greatly at their hands. More importantly, he had heard of what Ulfric would do to those who didn't support his campaign and he wasn't about to let that happen to his family.

The sparse trees around the farm were so familiar to Argis that they barely impeded him as he wended his way through them to where he knew the soldiers were waiting for locals from the area to join up with the army.

He slowed his approach as he got closer to the camp, nervousness overcoming him. He began to second guess his actions as the first flickers of the camp's fires became visible through the boles of the trees but he bit his lip and continued on.

The soldiers' lone sentry spotted Argis and hailed him, "Another volunteer here to join up with the army?" He grinned as he said "volunteer," knowing the situation that compelled so many of the locals to join the Stormcloak army.

Argis nodded wordlessly, too nervous to trust his voice.

The man turned back to the camp and called out, "Hey, we got another farm boy here. We'll have to teach him how to swing a sword instead of a ho." He looked back to Argis, "Go to the other recruits over there." After surrendering his bag of food to the soldier, Argis followed the pointing finger to a small lean-to where several other Nords sat.

The group was made up of a wide spread of ages with many being as young as Argis, but a few were much older as well. Sitting down amongst the dejected looking group, he looked around for a familiar face but didn't recognize any of them.

A young man with red hair and piercing blues eyes glanced at the new recruit, and Argis took the opportunity to try to get a feel for what was going on, asking as he extended his hand, "I'm Argis – are you also here to help fight the Forsworn?"

Nodding, the man took Argis' hand, "Name's Calder. It's good to meet you. I take it from what the other soldier said that you're a farmer? My father is a travelling merchant who frequented the surrounding farms to both sell his merchandise and offer his – and my – labour for a price."

Argis was glad to have found someone who was actually talkative. The other recruits looked more like prisoners being dragged off to their deaths than volunteers trying to protect their lands. Under the circumstances, Argis wasn't surprised that they felt that way. None of them truly wanted to be there but the threat of retribution for non-cooperation is what ensured that most, if not all, of the volunteers joined.

Argis and Calder spent the rest of the day simply talking about their lives as a way to stave off the despair that seemed to permeate the recruits' lean-to. A few of the others commented now and again but their silence always returned quickly.

As night fell, the soldiers brought bread and cooked-but-cold beef for the recruits. The men ate quietly and the soldiers carried on as if they didn't have so many hungry, tired, and despairing faces watching them.

After a cold night's sleep, the camp packed up and began a march westward. The brisk weather didn't bother Argis as his Nord blood protected him from the worst of the biting wind. A stern looking officer raked his gaze over the assembled recruits and began barking orders. "Form up!" he shouted at them. The men scrambled to obey and formed a rough line in front of him.

The officer's critical gaze swept their ranks before he barked, "Not good enough. You wretches will learn to march as we head back to the main camp and you will be useful in protecting your families and lands from the menace of the Forsworn. Do you understand me?" A ragged chorus of "yes" and several nodded heads had the officer smiling. His loud voice continued, "Good. The rest of the camp has been busy while you slept. We march NOW," shouting the last word at the recruits. They rushed to obey and fell in behind the other marching soldiers.

Once they had the cadence of the march, Argis and Calder were able to keep close to each other and continue their conversation despite the punishing pace they had to move at. Conversation remained quiet, simple, and comforting as the two men gradually left behind the land they knew.

Gradually, large puffs of smoke could be seen on the horizon and the recruits nervously, and rightfully, assumed that they were approaching the main camp. Catching their first glimpse of it from afar, many of the volunteers were amazed by the sheer number of other people there.

Some of the smaller villages would be able to fit in the camp without being cramped.

The camp was a cacophony of noises and it shocked the small town recruits. They openly gawked at the formations of soldiers practicing thrusts and were deafened by the clanging of the many blacksmiths who churned out swords and shields for the army. As their formation marched through the heart of the camp the whispers from the soldiers in front of them filtered back to the new recruits who followed their gaze. Argis caught his first glimpse of Ulfric Stormcloak himself as he stood in a tent with several other important looking men and jabbed his finger at a map on the table before him.

They wended their way through the busy camp and out to a small field outside of the main building. The marching officer met with a man dressed in a bear pelt and exchanged quiet words with him before they shook hands. The man in the pelt stepped forward as the other officer walked away without looking back. Surveying his new charges, the training officer briskly announced, "My name is Fjorn Squallshield, and I don't care what you think you can do or what you're made of. You're now mine to train and to make into something worth noticing if you die." His cold gaze locked briefly with the eyes of each recruit who stood mutely looking at him.

The training began immediately as he had them retrieve a wooden practice sword and shield each. They were quickly introduced to various stances and when each was useful. Fjorn ensured each recruit had a strong grasp of each stance before moving onward. Argis was young and used to hard labour of farm work so he weathered the exhaustive training well.

It was three weeks of hard training, but Argis endured it and even grew to like it as time went on. After all, he had wanted this sort of adventure; it was a rough but honest fulfillment of his desires. It helped that he had Calder to talk to as well, for the two had become fast friends. The simple fact of having someone else to talk to made the training easier to bear, and a sense of camaraderie developed between all of the trainees as they endured the humiliations and triumphs of their practice. A few of the recruits, especially the older ones, remained separate from the forming community as they couldn't forget what they had left behind. They bemoaned the harvests that would go to waste in the fields or families that would struggle due to their missing presence.

The squad of backwater recruits was lined up before Fjorn on their last day of training. Fjorn looked down on them with something approaching pride instead of disdain they had first seen. Two large boxes sat next to Fjorn and he kicked one open to reveal the steel swords they contained and showed the other to have shields. He announced, "You've all come a long way from the shivering skeever who first were thrust in front of me. Ahead of you lies a great and glorious battle against the filthy Forsworn. Any who fall march to Sovngarde!"

He hesitated once before adding, "Tomorrow you will join other units, and we will march on the Forsworn army." This final announcement sent the warriors into a fit of whispers to each other and they almost missed Fjorn's gesture of dismissal.

Fjorn had given the newly minted soldiers the day to themselves before they were sent off to fill in holes in already established units. Argis had quietly slipped away from group as the evening stole over them and returned to their communal sleeping area alone. He sat before a small fire quietly thinking about the last tumultuous weeks of his life.

The crunch of a boot on gravel stirred him from his reverie and he turned to see Calder also approaching the fire. He hesitantly asked his friend in a forced playful tone, "Not going to spend the night drinking, Calder?"

The red haired Nord shook his head, "I missed the quiet. Everyone else will be out drinking, but none of them think about tomorrow, you know? Tomorrow, we could all end up dead and they drown that thought in mead."

Argis merely nodded as the other Nord sat down next to him and joined him in his fire-staring vigil. The silence settled around them, leaving them to their own thoughts, and they were both grateful that the company of the other was not intrusive.

Quietly wondering what the next day would bring, Argis was completely shocked out of his reverie when he felt a hand gently intertwine with his own. He looked up and met Calder's blue eyes with his own brown ones and became aware of the quick smile that was flashed at him as the other man resumed looking at the fire. Questions tumbled through Argis' head, but he didn't want to break the silence which had become sacred with that small gesture. He also resumed watching the fire, but it was more of an act than anything else, as the feeling of the other recruit's hand in his own completely distracted him. He luxuriated in the feeling of possibility that the hand gave him until he heard the tromping of many booted feet returning. He sighed as the other soldiers returned, and the two men pulled their hands apart. They quickly retired to their own tents to await the morning and what it would bring.

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Fjorn had to kick many of the hung over soldiers awake, but the squad managed to make a proper line in front of their sergeant. Looking them over, Fjorn began to announce names and squads. Argis held an outward calm as he heard Calder's name and unit announced and waited for his own. He desperately hoped that he would get to be put in the same unit as Calder, but he was assigned elsewhere. A deep disappointment settled over him as Fjorn finished the last of the assignments.

The men began to disperse, and there were many soldier's pounding each other's backs in farewell, but Argis and Calder immediately gravitated towards each other.

Argis tried to find the words, speaking softly, "I-I don't-"

Calder interrupted with, "We'll see each other again one day. Wait for that day." He extended his hand, looking at Argis with a grin.

The blonde gripped his foreharm in a warrior's handshake, and as they loosened their grips, Argis felt the fleeting touch of their finger tips.

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AN: And so you have the rewrite for the first chapter. I hope to gradually rewrite most of the early chapters, and especially ones that I think have major problems. Please, review and tell me why you liked or hated it!