Chapter 8

Ionuin was in no rush to get to the Inn and made her way down the stairs slowly. The amulet still burned a hole in her pocket, begging to be brought out and worn. She thought about fastening it around her neck, just to see some of her potential suitors, but quickly changed her mind. Later in the night she might put it on, but the time wasn't now. After all, who knows how long Erik will be sleeping?

Pushing through the doors, she swept her eyes around the room before moving in any further. Even then, she made it a point to walk the perimeter to check for would-be enemies before settling into a small, tucked away table to order. The barmaid came around and offered her a meal, which she politely declined, opting instead for a strong drink. She wasn't accustomed to drinking, but felt as though tonight was a good night to partake.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was different about tonight. Nothing tangible, but something just felt different. She hoped this was a good thing, that it was an omen of good things to come, and not the opening lines of a tragedy. I can be happy with Erik. I know I can.

A group of men that Ionuin recognized as mercenaries came falling through the door, talking and laughing the whole way, the evidence of battle still obvious on their armor. She started to check if Argis was among them, but quickly stopped herself. If he was here, which she knew he wasn't, he'd have no interest in seeing her. She had waited over a month for him to come back to her at the hall, but he hadn't come, prompting her to leave. Her new housecarl had let her know that he had stopped by while she was away, but that he was hardly coherent with drink, and had taken his armor and left quickly. She wasn't surprised to hear this, but was surprised as how much it make her heart ache.

Ionuin choked back a sigh and waved for another drink, holding up two fingers this time. The barmaid was by her side quickly with her two drinks…the Dragon Born did not wait…and Ionuin tipped her generously to keep the tap flowing.

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Argis snatched up his bag and stalked through the all grass towards the road. He could find the brothers, could ring their necks and get into a fight, but it wasn't worth his time. He had delayed enough. The time had come for him to get to Markarth and find Ionuin, to stop whatever it was she was planning on doing. He didn't care who she married or where she went at this point, but he knew that he'd live the rest of his life full of regret if he didn't pin her down and kiss her at least once.

The thought of her lips on his had the usual reaction. His heart skipped a beat, and he almost staggered in physical pain with want. It wasn't the kind of desire you had when you were presented with a particularly well-proportioned woman, but rather it was the sort of desire that was unexplainable, the kind that made you realize just how fierce your love is.

Not that he wasn't a man, of course. He remembered when she was sick after that last injury, how she could barely move with pain and infection, and how he had helped her clean up and get dressed on more than one occasion. He tried so hard not maintain eye contact with her, to not let his sex drive overpower his mind…but he was just a man, and men will do what men will do.

Ionuin, of course, had never taken off any of her undergarments in his presence, but they admittedly did little to hide her body, and his imagination had no problem filling in the gaps. He remembered how when he first saw her he had thought her average looking, with her light brown hair in a knot atop her head. He smiled at the thought. She's anything but average.

For once Argis allowed his mind to wander. He remembered pulling off the tight material of the breast band after removing her armor, and how even under that she wore more cloth to hide herself. He remembered wondering how someone so perfect could be so afraid of her body, and how much it had made him love her. His mind drifted to the perfect roundness of her chest. She was larger than he thought, on the bigger side of average, and he realized the physical pain she must be in on a daily basis having to strap herself down. He remembered the perfect tone and definition of her arms, and how they contrasted so much with the little pouch she sported around her midsection. Argis smiled at the memory. Too many sweet rolls.

She wasn't without her imperfections, of course. She was riddled with scars, up and down her arms and legs, around her torso, and especially covering her back. One scar stood out prominently in his mind. Running the length of her right collarbone, it stood out from the rest. This one was no accident, no result of a fight, but rather was a calculated move made by someone with a precise hand. He had run his hand over it, noticing how her body tensed and shivered as a result.

"How did you get it?" he had asked, and in a rare moment of openness Ionuin had responded.

"I don't remember. I don't remember anything before being captured at Helgen…but every time I see it or feel it, I get cold all over, like whoever did this to me wasn't right in the head. Sometimes I have these dreams at night, of bandits around a campfire, and one of them showing off his elven blade, and I wake up sweating and shaking. I wonder if it was him, if he was the one who did this to me, but I don't know."

He had put his hands on her arms then, wanting so badly to hold her and not knowing how it would be received. Instead he just stood there and looked at her, not knowing what to say, before clearing his throat and gently slipping a robe over her head, allowing the moment to pass.

He groaned remembering this. Idiot.

Footsteps on the road behind him snapped him out of his memory. He spun to see the brothers jogging to catch up, leading all three horses by hand.

"Argis," Vilkas panted, "Argis wait."

"It was a joke, Argis!" Farkas gasped.

Argis regarded them coolly before grabbing the reins and easily mounting his horse.

"I don't have time for jokes," he said before kicking it into a trot towards Markarth.

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Ionuin looked up from her corner to see Erik come through the door, smiling when he spotted her.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked, slumping into the open chair across from her and signaling for some mead.

Ionuin smiled. Erik was such a heavy sleeper. Not like Argis.

"I did try to wake you, you wouldn't have any of it."

Erik smiled warmly in her direction, "That doesn't even sound like me," he joked.

Ionuin laughed easily. Everything was easy with Erik. Looking across the table at him, she could see their lives together. They'd travel for a while, exploring and enjoying each other's company, maybe taking a trip into Morrowind or Cryodil just because. Eventually they'd buy a piece of land and build a house together, somewhere close to town but not in a large city. They'd spend their days hunting the forest, tending a small garden, and teaching their children how to hunt, fish, mine, fight, and do whatever else it was that they wanted to be taught.

They would be happy. Their lives would be filled with laughter and comfort, and they would enjoy the friendship they shared for the rest of their lives. They would never leave each other's side and would hardly fight, and every morning they'd each wake up and smile at each other all the while wondering what it would be like to be in love. Because they weren't in love and never would be. They were best friends. Their marriage would be fun, and easy, and comfortable, and without love.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ionuin caught sight of Vorstag, who looked so much like Argis that it made her heart skip a beat and caused her to almost drop her drink.

"Whoa, you ok?" Erik asked, "What are you looking at?"

Ionuin searched the room, looking for anything to point out to Erik to deter him from discovering the honest truth.

"Cosnach over there," she finally responded, "Talking about the Forsworn again, and challenging everyone to a brawl."

"You could take him," Erik said conspiratorially, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

Ionuin downed the last of her drink, her fourth, and pushed back from her chair.

"Let's find out," she said, and before Erik could stop her, she was already at the bar and taking up Cosnach on his bet.

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It was well after dark by the time they reached Markarth, and Argis was bone weary. They had ridden the day in silence, only pausing briefly to rest the horses and allow them a quick drink at the stream. He paused by the doors of the city, acknowledging the guards with a nod.

"Did she really do it?" he asked, turning towards the brothers.

"Do what?" they responded in unison.

"Tip over a mammoth."

"No!" they laughed, "Only an idiot does that!"

Argis clenched his teeth and pushed through the doors to the city. He stared longingly at the Silver Blood Inn and contemplated stopping by for a drink before thinking better of it. If Ionuin was anywhere, it wasn't the Inn. He made his way through the empty streets and up the stairs to the hall, where he was greeted by the new housecarl.

"She's still not here, Argis," she said before slamming the door in his face, "I don't know where she is."

Argis pounded the door with his fist in frustration. She wasn't here. Over a month of searching, and she wasn't fucking here. Slowly he sank to the ground and put his head in his hands, noticing numbly that his fist was bruised and bloody from its recent encounter with the steel door.

"You don't want to see her this way anyway, Argis," Vilkas started.

"You sort of smell," Farkas added.

Vilkas glared at his brother before continuing, "What we mean is, it might be best to get a drink in you and get you cleaned up before you start looking again tomorrow morning."

Argis sighed. They were right. He could smell himself, and it wasn't pleasant. He grunted a reply and started making his way down the stairs. Looks like he was headed to the Silver Blood Inn after all. Just one drink, he told himself, just one drink to take off the edge before heading back out to find her.

Argis smiled when they reached the doors to the Inn. Sounds like Cosnach is at it again. Wonder who he's fighting this time? Cosnach had lost to them all at one time or another, always too drunk to fight, but too drunk to know not to. He shook his head and pushed through the doors, his jaw dropping at the sight.

Over a month of searching, and here she was, eyes glossy, lip bloody, face flushed with drink: brawling Cosnach bare handed. Her teeth were clenched, and Argis knew it was to prevent herself from shouting, and she wore no armor, just a light linen dress. He could tell by the way she moved that she was hurting, still not completely healed from the knife wound, but she was determined to win the fight.

She wouldn't get the chance, of course. Argis wouldn't let that happen. Cosnach threw a punch, which Ionuin easily ducked underneath, only to be caught by the upswing of his left fist.

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Ionuin was caught offguard by Cosnach's upswing, and staggered backwards a few feet. Before she had time to react, to raise her fists even, Argis was suddenly there. He picked up Cosnach with one hand and threw him clear across the room.

"This is over," he growled, before gripping Ionuin by the back of her neck and roughly shoving her out the doors.

"What the fuck, Argis!" she shouted as she stumbled over the threshold, only to be caught and spun back around to face him.

"What in Oblivian do you think you're doing, Sweetheart!?"

"I was winning 100 gold!"

"No, you were drunkenly brawling! Why the fuck did you think that was a good idea?"

"I don't have to answer to you, Argis," she said stalking away. "You left!"

"Oh no, Sweetheart, you don't get to walk away from this one."

"Oh fuck off!"

They were at the stairs now, and people were coming out of their homes to see what all the commotion was. She was stomping up the stairs, and Argis was right on her heals. They reached the landing outside the hall, and she suddenly swung around to look him in the eye.

"I swear by the nine, Argis, you leave me alone or I'm going to push you down these fucking stairs."

He leaned in close, only inches from her face, "Sweetheart, I'd like to see you try."

Ionuin responded by turning on her heel and pushing through the door, slamming it behind her. She wasn't surprised to hear it promptly bang back open, the heavy footsteps of Argis reverberating off the stone floors. He walked past her and into the main room, immediately dropping into the chair in front of the fire and hanging his head in his hands.

"Look Sweetheart…"

"Why did you buy me the box of sweets?" she interrupted. Argis slowly raised his head from his hands and looked at her, letting the silence stretch between them before answering.

"You know I've spent the last month and a half chasing you all over the damn country," he said.

Ionuin shrugged in response as Argis stood and walked to the fireplace, picking up knick knacks from the mantle and examining them before setting them back down. Vaguely Ionuin wondered where the new housecarl was, before realizing she had sent her to her parents, so Erik could sleep in her bed. Erik. Who was probably getting pretty worried about her, and would be coming through the door any minute now to check on her.

Argis abruptly started talking again, still facing the fire. "Sweetheart, I left because you didn't want me to stay, and I thought leaving you a box of sweets would let you know that I did." At this he turned and faced her, meeting her stare with his good eye and refusing to let go.

"I've searched in every nook and cranny between Riften and here…twice…and finally find you, back home brawling with the town drunk. I love you, Ionuin. You can take that information and do whatever you want with it, but there it is. I'm in love with you Sweetheart."

Ionuin held her breath, her mind racing. She didn't know what to think. Argis had just done two things she thought would never happen: Called her by her real name, and told her he loved her. The giddy drunkenness she felt earlier had long since faded, and Ionuin did the only thing she knew how to do is such situations…stand there with mouth wide open, gaping like a fish.

He's waiting for a response, she suddenly realized, so she said the first thing that popped into her mind.

"Don't call me Sweetheart."

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"How about Beloved?" Argis said, pushing the chair aside and moving closer.

"Beloved?" she asked.

Argis stalked her around a table, finally getting her in a corner.

"Aye," he said, slowly walking closer. "A Khajiit told me that's what Ionuin means. Beloved."

There was nowhere else for her to run. Her eyes swept side to side, searching for a way to escape. She was trapped, and he knew it. Ionuin's heart pounded erratically in her chest as he came to a halt in front of her.

"What if I don't want to be called Beloved?" she asked, her breathing coming heavier as he put a hand on either side of her head.

He dipped his eyes down to bore into hers, one milky white and the other perfectly clear.

"What if I don't care? What if I'll call you whatever I want to call you, Beloved?"

"No. My name is Ionuin…"

"Yes," he said cutting her off and drawing ever closer. "Ionuin," he very nearly whispered, lowering his lips to gently graze her own. "Beloved," he murmured, "They are one and the same," and before there was anything that she could do to stop it, his lips were suddenly moving against hers, his hands on her hips locking her in place.

Ionuin couldn't help it. She kissed back with a year's worth of pent up emotions. Argis was here, and he was holding her against a wall, kissing her stupid. And she was enjoying it. A lot.

She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, leaning in to the kiss, encouraging the kiss to go deeper. Argis lifted her slightly and pushed her against the wall, a soft grumble sound coming from deep in his chest from delight when she uncharacteristically snaked her legs around his waist. At the sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway, he broke the kiss and looked over his shoulder. It was the brothers, Farkas and Vilkas, standing with Erik behind them.

"We're going to go," Vilkas started, "head on back to Whiterun."

"Take Erik here with us," Farkas continued for him. "Reunite him with Lydia."

Erik pushed through the middle of the twins. "You don't mind, do you Ionuin? If I ask Lydia out with me? She's just so pretty…"

"Not now!" the twins said in unison, gripping him by the back of the neck and spinning towards the door.

"Have fun!" they called over their shoulders laughingly, letting the door slam behind them.

Argis turned his attention back towards Ionuin. She had managed to extract herself from his grip and was standing against the wall with wide eyes.

"Argis," she began.

"No," he cut her off before she could get started. "No, Ionuin, don't 'Argis' me. I'm going to kiss you again, and you're going to like it; and whatever else you have floating in that head of yours is just going to have to wait. Understand?"

He didn't wait for her response as he moved and drew her into a kiss once more, this one much gentler than the one before. Her lips were soft and pliable against his own, her mouth parting to allow the kiss to go deeper, easily drawing another low groan from him chest. Argis moved his mouth from hers, slowly making his way along her jawline and down her neck, kissing along the slope and down to her shoulder, where he gently nibbled along the scar at her collarbone. Her hips bucked against his own, whether willingly or not he didn't know. He moved his attention back to her lips as he gripped her tighter, lifting her up so her legs could once again circle his waist.

This time her lips came crashing against his own, and her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close. Never loosening his grip he made his way towards the bedroom and kicked the door open. The room was dark, and he tripped on the stone floor, falling with her onto the bed. Still, the passion never stopped, and Argis hoped, prayed, that it never would.

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The two lay a tangled mess on the bed, she on her back and he on top of her, head propped on his hand while the other traced the Amulet of Mara against her chest.

Talos help me, she thought, I'm never going to be able to leave his man.

"I thought I was too late," he murmured. "Thought I was going to find you married to Erik."

Finally confident enough to speak to him without stuttering, she gently replied.

"No. For a while I thought maybe I would, but in the end I couldn't do it, so I came back here to Markarth...to look for you."

"Mmm," he murmured in reply. "You know this is an Amulet of Mara you wear? You looking for marriage?"

"I am…why, you interested?"

He moved his hand to rest against her waist and lowered his eyes to meet her own.

"Won't lie, I think you know I am. And you?"

She smiled and met his lips with her own.

Maybe another trip to Riften is on the books after all.