The chill that entered the stable had nothing to do with the morning breeze and everything with the way his gaze hardened and he didn’t even glance downwards to her exposed chest. His eyes were firmly set on hers, as though he was trying and possibly succeeding in looking at who she really was. Most men, especially the Nords, were ridiculously easy to wrap around her little finger. A bat of an eye while biting a lip, swaying the hips a little while walking, and her all-time favourite of showing a bit of cleavage all worked wonders. Money, booze, and pleasurable company was the norm for her. Yet, here she was, throwing almost her full arsenal at the stranger to get herself out of yet another self-inflicted predicament with zero success. If anything it was having all the effectiveness of trying to breach Whiterun’s walls with a sculptors hammer.

  The stranger had nothing. There was none of the usual arousal or interest, just a careful glance that started at her eyes and studied her from top to bottom. His gaze was precise and controlled, working its way down her body and over her bare flesh to the rest still hidden under the blanket. Unusually though there was not the slightest hint that he noticed her nudity.

  “What if I’m travelling beyond Whiterun? What if I was even leaving the province?”

  “That’s fine by me.” Still not covering herself, she continued to give him her best smile with all the confidence she could muster. “I’m not tied down anywhere and I’m used to travelling around. I actually prefer it.”

  “Because of enjoying the travel, or because you get yourself into trouble at the places you stay at?” Such a simple statement framed as a question was more wounding and concerning than if he had drawn his broadsword and cut her. It showed that he too was just as, if not more of a better judge of character than she was. "I suppose I could use someone to watch my back."

  Sofia was stunned. This was so unusual to her, especially his reactions and she sat further upright, ignoring the way that the blanket fell further away and revealing more than just glimpses and hints of her body.

  "Is that it? Aren't you going to flex your muscles and tell me how great you are? That you are a big strong independent man that doesn’t need the help from a young, beautiful woman like me? You should know that is practically the customary greeting in Skyrim."

  Flicking the ragged ponytail back over her shoulders, she shook out some of the hay that had managed to get tangled in its mass. "Anyway, there's no ‘suppose’ about it. Everyone could use someone a little more like me helping them out."

  “Well, I ‘suppose’ I could use someone like you. I was going to be staying in the city for a while looking for work, but is there somewhere you would want me to take you?"

  “Nowhere in particular. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ll just go wherever you are going. In return, I’ll repay your kindness by fighting alongside you. Surely that’s an offer you can’t refuse?"

  “Probably not. Travelling by yourself in Skyrim these days is more dangerous than I expected. What happened to your clothes anyway?”

  "Ugh. I have no idea. My memory is a little fuzzy." A few confirmatory glances around the stall confirmed the fact that wherever the rest of her possessions were, they certainly weren’t nearby. “I kept the important bits anyway.”

  Still locked in its own scabbard, her nordic shortsword thudded into the top of the blanket in a puff of straw and dust as she drew it out from where it was hidden. It was difficult not to sigh to herself as she saw his eyes look at it more intently than her body. Somewhere in the back of the mind she wondered whether she had somehow encountered a eunuch or whether all his fun bits had been frozen off by Skyrim’s notorious winters by the way he seemed more interested in her sword, than its naked owner. At least he was earnest in his offer to help her, as his travelling pack thudded to the floor as well, and he started rummaging through its contents.

  A pair of heavy, hob nailed, Cyrodiilic caligae were dropped into her lap followed by the frayed and worn cloak from his shoulders. Of everything the sandals were the most welcome as while she had no issues with public nudity, walking around the streets without footwear was not an inviting prospect despite the relative cleanliness of Whiterun. She was also extremely thankful that they seemed to be of Imperial Legion design that consisted of two, semi-adjustable sizes; too big, and too small.

  Feet covered or at least her soles covered from standing in whatever unmentionables lined the city streets, Sofia wrapped the cloak around herself experimentally for size as its original owner continued to rummage through his personal items for anything useful. He had been watching her as she wrapped the lengthy strapping around her calves and ankles and she couldn’t help but grin at him and feel amused at how she was still completely naked, and no longer hidden under the acquired horseblanket.

  “You don’t need to keep staring at my body.” Tossing her head back she shifted slightly into one of her favorite poses that almost, but not quite covered everything from view. “It’s like you’ve never seen a naked woman before.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Again, there was nothing in his expression as he met her eyes with his own. He had been staring, yes, but not at her body. He had been watching her and not taking advantage of her nakedness. Somehow, the way he was able to ignore her state of undress and appearance and instead focus on looking for clothing or items of use was more unnerving than any lecherous behaviour. She was used to that and found herself surprised at how she would have preferred it to the coldness he was radiating like the northern winters. Walking naked down the street didn't bother her. It had been something she had done on numerous occasions and she knew how to look after herself. Men wanting and lusting after her was one thing, this was something else entirely..

  Taking an obvious moment to consider his options, he sighed softly, reaching to his sides and tugging at the series of belts and straps keeping his breastplate firmly attached to his chest as he began pulling it off.

  "So… Why were you out here on your own?"

  As he continued to strip out of the few pieces of armour he wore, and trying to ignore the weird sensation in her belly at his respectful indifference to her, Sofia picked up and rolled the cloak around in her hands. It was a legion cloak, similar to all the others she had seen on the legionaries throughout Skyrim but the colours were faded, the deep maroon turning into the colour of ancient rust or old blood and the Imperial Dragon was a dark grey rather than a deep black. At a glance it appeared old and perhaps salvaged, but the smell of fire and ash and the way it stained her fingertips told her otherwise. It was singed, burnt in places and coated in the remains of fires only recently cooled in the previous days. The bottom portions especially had been burnt away, leaving it just over two thirds of its original length and the entire mass of cloth was rough to the touch.

  "Am I not allowed out on my own?" Finding the top of the cloak, she stared suspiciously at the mostly-fresh bone that he had used to clasp it around the throat. It looked like a sharpened needle of a bone taken from a rabbit or other small animal and it was obvious he had used whatever materials he had at hand to repair his equipment’s functionality. "I had a bit to drink. So what? I guess I must have passed out."

  "I hope I didn't cause too much trouble." Sofia continued, trying to work out the best way to wear the cloak so that she could walk into Whiterun without being reacquainted with the interior of Dragonreach's dungeon. "Actually, I'm not really that bothered."

  Almost without warning, and with his armour removed he lifted his shirt up and over his head, becoming as bare-chested as she was before holding it out for her to take. For the first time she was truly lost for words, stuck in place and staring at him almost unblinkingly as his flesh was revealed.

  Many, many veterans of the Great War between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Mede Empire could be found on every street in the Holds, and most bore wounds of various severity. Even those few involved in the more recent rebellion between the Stormcloaks and the Empire were filtering their way throughout Skyrim, but Sofia had never seen anything like this.

  Before, while dressed in his long roughspun pants and tunic, his body had been covered from throat to wrist to his feet, but now some evidence of his life was revealed for her to see. There was barely a centimetre of skin that hadn't been ravaged by conflict, and every move he made bunched and twisted at the maze of damaged tissue. Burns overlapped gashes, and the kiss of blades sliced through the burns. There was no mistaking the fact that whoever he was, he was somehow by far one of the strongest individuals she had ever laid eyes on, but also the most heavily injured by a huge margin.

  “Are you alright?”

  Shaking herself back into the real world, she tore her eyes away from the livid burn that started somewhere below his hip beneath the woollen pants and wrapped up and around his abdomen. It looked as though someone had covered a portion of his side in cooking oil, before setting it ablaze.

  "Of course I'm alright. Don't start fussing over me, I'm more than capable of handling myself."

  "So, if you are so tough and independent, then why do you need my help?" The snort of amusement wasn't one born of disbelief, but was at least some sign of humour from him.

  Pulling on the shirt that smelled of male sweat and ash, she shook her hair free and watched as he leaned down to pick up his armour. There were blade cuts in his flesh that ran deep. One looked like it would have scoured the ribs under the puckered tissue but it was a single gash amongst a forest of overgrown pain. Arms, chest, shoulders, and she could only guess there were more on his thighs and legs, the thought of which amused her as she couldn’t remember the last time she had tried to imagine what lay underneath a man’s pants that didn’t involve interacting with those parts shortly after.

  "I don't." Sofia paused again, as she realised that he had very few wounds on his back. Unlike the rest of his body it was practically pristine, and a clear sign that whoever he was he didn’t believe in running away from his fights. "Instead, I thought I would help you out."

  "I didn't ask for any help, though." Pulling the leather straps tight despite the protests of their rusted buckles, he seemed genuinely curious as he rapped his knuckles on his breastplate, testing how it rested upon his bare torso.

  Scarred, strong and perceptive. Normally these would be traits that Sofia would have admired or found extremely attractive, but not when she was attempting to get herself out of her latest mess. Kind and generous too, especially given the fact that he was literally supplying the clothes off his own back for a complete stranger which increased her unease proportionally to her finely attuned perceptions of a potential source of money, food, booze and entertainment.

  Allure wasn’t working, and was likely to annoy or otherwise insult him and so a different strategy was needed. Acting the part was easy enough, she had years of experience behind her after all and so she fidgeted, chewing a lip and making it appear as though she was trying to look everywhere but him. That part was surprisingly difficult, as the number and details of the scars on his body were sickeningly fascinating.