Chapter Text
Morning dawned on Whiterun, a typical sunny day ahead as the light to the east found its way around Throat-of-the-World and onto the cobbled streets. I stepped out of Breezehome drawing in the clear alpine air, Lydia following a few steps behind. To the west, towards the city gates, Adrianne was hammering away on some new creation at the forge next door, the clangs of her pounding ringing out across the valley. I wondered what new mace or helmet would be gracing Ulfberth's shelves in their shop later that morning.
"What adventures shall we go on today, my love?" Lydia asked from my shoulder, bringing my thoughts back to the day ahead. "Another dragon perhaps, or some bandit camps?"
"Good question! I've been running low on Chaurus eggs for my potions. How about we hit some caves and a few Falmer?"
"Divines, no! I hate those foul creatures!"
"Who? The Falmer, or their pets?"
"Both! Disgusting things, lurking in the dark, dropping on you with no warning. Can't say I'm fond of their inventions either."
I turned to gaze at the scar, and the sizable tear around it in her steel armor, just above her left hip where the trap had caught her a few weeks ago. We'd decided after that trip to leave the Falmer be for a while and turn our attention elsewhere.
"We could visit Lucan and Camilla in Riverwood? Share some mead and stories with them?"
"That's a wonderful idea! But no flirting with Camilla! I've seen how you two get a little too friendly after a couple of bottles of Honningbrew!"
I gulped, the guilt flashing across my expression, hoping it was fast enough for Lydia not to notice. No such luck!
"Ha! I knew it!" she laughed at my stumbling feeble attempt to reply. "It's OK love, she is pretty for sure, but I know you love me. You showed me how much last night!"
"Shhh!" I hissed, "not so loud!", as Belethor sauntered by in his arrogant swagger on the way to his general goods shop up the street.
At this Lydia burst into uncontrollable laughter, her mirth becoming infectious and soon the two of us were clinging to each other for support, barely able to stand.
"I do like it when we practice the Dibellan arts," she murmured in a low voice only for my ears, a sultry provocative smile on her face as her eyes met mine.
"And I also love. I must remember to thank Haelga for imparting that wisdom the next time we're in Riften, though I've been in the Dibella temple at Markarth and I'm pretty sure that's not one of the devotions," I replied and gave her an affectionate kiss before something collided with me in the back. "Oof!" I exclaimed, staggering to keep my balance and turning to seek the source of this annoying interruption.
"Braith! You should watch where you're going!" I exclaimed loudly, upon finding the young girl untangling herself from the bow fastened to my back.
"I'm not afraid of you!" she shot back, fast as lightning. "Boys, girls, dogs, elders, there's nobody I won't fight!"
The defiance in her voice gave me little doubt of her resolve. How she would fare against some of the adversaries Lydia and I had faced recently... that wisp mother near Ivarstead, the necromancers in Ilinalta's Deep, one of Hermaeous Mora's Lurkers. I shuddered at the thought of them.
"Maybe someday you'll get that chance young warrior", I said with a smile, trying to push the memories out of my mind. "Why don't you take on a more pressing campaign, the heart of Lars Battle-Born?"
"If he would just get the hint and kiss me, I'd stop bossing him around." she responded, a sulky annoyed tone in her voice as she walked away. Lars was a timid boy, anxious about the fate of his older siblings out fighting for the Empire in the Civil War with the Storm Cloaks.
I had no love for the Empire after they tried to execute me at Helgen, my crime of "being in the wrong place at the wrong time" inconvenient enough to warrant losing my head, which I was very much attached to. I'd vowed that day to drive the Empire from Skyrim, one way or another, but more pressing matters with the dragons had captured most of my attention.
And besides, I was hardly able to defeat the entire Empire on my own, especially with the backing of the Thalmor behind them. My best skill was much more intimate, that of an assassin, to sneak upon my foe - rarely more than two or three at once and smite them down with the advantage of surprise, to slit their throats while they slept or were distracted. I'd assassinated the Emperor himself in this way, twice if you include his body double - though that involved poison mainly - but still the Empire was in Skyrim. Dealing with the entire Imperial army in this fashion would take far too long.
My dagger snugly attached to my belt, ready for whatever I needed, had gotten me through many a ruin and cave, a trusty and dependable partner like a third hand in my life of adventure, carving a path to riches and fame as the Dragonborn of Skyrim. A title I sometimes wondered if I deserved, given the means I employed.
True, I had slain the dragon threatening Whiterun Hold and its capital city, starting my journey to put down the rising dragon threat facing all of Skyrim and been granted the title of Thane for that and some other efforts, but that didn't seem worthy of a fancy title. Jarl Balgruuf had assigned me a Housecarl - a servant steward warrior - Lydia - as a... reward?
Her service and dedication to me was undeniably genuine, and from the many adventures we'd shared my gratitude to her commitment grew, to admiration, to love. I preferred to use my talents of stealth and illusion to achieve my goals; not my beloved Lydia. Always eager to explore the next cave or attack entire bandit camps single handedly, she was bravery personified. If anything I should have been the servant to her.
I often felt stabs of shame at her courage and undying commitment to even the most ridiculous of my plans. She would follow through and never waiver in the face of peril, carrying my burdens, protecting me and everything I own with her life, and I loved her for it.
Life for a Dunmer in Skyrim was not easy. Nords were generally tolerant towards the Mer, to varying degrees, but this was a thin veil over their true sentiments in many places. Windhelm for example had the largest contingent of my fellow brothers and sisters from Morrowind, refugees of the Red Mountain eruption, but they were not entirely welcome there. One Nord had challenged me to an open duel on a recent visit.
Luckily my dexterity and hand to hand skills had improved immensely from facing many foes in my travels with Lydia, from skeevers to Draugr Death Overlords. Needless to say the Nord left our fight with his tail between his legs. I don't think it improved his outlook on the Dunmer, which in hindsight is probably unfortunate, but at the time his bigotry, false accusations of alliances with the Thalmor, and general ignorance of my peoples' plight caused me to lose my temper and he suffered for it.
Lydia, also a Nord and proud of it too, with her fearless battle cry, was completely different. She accepted me for who I was - a lithe wiry Dunmer woman in her mid 30s, black shoulder length hair with a thin braid on one side to keep it from blowing in my face. I was short as most Dunmer are by Nord standards, often earning being referred to as "little elf", with a few scars here and there from scuffles so long ago I can't even recall them.
Lydia's faithful and unconditional devotion to me was unquestionable. It brightened my day no matter the weather when she was in my presence, and darkened it in the most intense sunlight when she was not. I once almost lost her in a bandit skirmish at Fort Greymoor, and since that day I swore to myself to never allow her into serious danger again.
Oh, she can handle most anything, trolls, Draugr, even dragons, and her undying spirit sends her into battle without question. But the thought of being without her pains me more than a fatal wound. On a whim one time I sent her back to Solitude to spare her some upcoming adventures - and, truth be told, because those quests required some stealth, finesse, and careful navigation; hearing "Skyrim belongs to the Nords!" in full battle cry as you're nocking your arrow for the kill tends to throw off your concentration, and the whole quest goes downhill from there. And so on this day I suggested she return to Proudspire Manor in Solitude and check in on Runa and Lucia, our two adopted daughters, though I had little doubt that my Solitude Housecarl Jordis would be out of her league with the girls.
"OK, I'll be at home if you need me" Lydia cheerily said, as I knew she would, turning to begin the two day walk back to Solitude, and I instantly regretted letting her go. After a moment's indecision I resolved to walk with her, in her company, though I had my faithful massive horse Shadowmere and would have much rather Lydia rode him for a change instead of running behind me in her heavy armor. I followed her from a distance, trying to determine the path she'd take, so I could watch over her like a benign shadow, and come to her aid if needed. Truthfully I missed her company, even the ever bubbling optimism about exploring the next cave we'd encounter.
She'd been walking at a slow pace, and Shadowmere likes to trot, and before long we had overtaken her and found ourselves near Halted Stream Camp. Of course the bandits in residence started showering us with arrows and spikes of ice, and I thought I could take care of these fools quickly and be on my way. Five minutes later the camp was cleared, and I turned to seek Lydia again. She was gone from sight, and panic rose in my throat. I scoured the entire valley that afternoon searching for her, pushing Shadowmere at a hard gallop as remorse and emptiness grew in my chest. As night fell I returned to Breezehome defeated, exhausted, morose and in a foul mood for my mistake.
"Love, are you OK?" Lydia's question broke into my thoughts of that day, thankfully pushing them aside.
"Yes... yes my love" I smiled. "You pulled me away from a dark place. What were we talking about?"
"Today's adventure. I think we should get going while the day is young."
"Agreed. Let's be on our way. I'd like to stop by the river to freshen up though."
"Oh that sounds like a wonderful idea!"
We made our way out through the main gates, greeting the guard on duty and waving to Adrianne as we passed, and walked on to the stables where Shadowmere waited patiently in the middle of the road. It was a good thing most horses didn't travel closer to the city than this, as Shadowmere was no mere pony, and his bulk covered much of the cobblestone pathway. I waved to Ri'saad and his trading caravan of fellow Khajiit as we passed their encampment on the edge of town, making a mental note to check his selection of wares when we returned that evening. Seeing the Khajiit in Skyrim always brought mixed feelings.
Their tales of the sands of Elswyr and their travels through Skyrim always excited me, but that was tempered with the knowledge of how, like myself, they were outsiders and looked down upon by the Nords. Ysolda had some great tales of her travels with Ri'saad and his group, walking the roads of Skyrim to ply the locals with exotic goods, moon sugar, and tales of far off places. Someday I hoped to travel with them for a while; it sounded like the right blend of adventure, peace and good company for me.
Arriving at the stables we found Shadowmere up to his usual stable mischief. When out seeking dragons and frost trolls he was a fearless force of nature, but back in town he was quite the ladies' stallion, sweet talking the mares with his tales of bravery and heroics at whichever stables he was hanging around at the time.
This time it was the dappled mare I'd been considering for Lydia, but I was holding my decision till we'd had a chance to see how she handled herself when a dragon attacked. No good having your ride home run off and leave you stranded at the top of some mountain with your pack full of gems and broadswords and a three day march to the nearest town.
"Come along, you" I said, bemused at his casual charm and coy-ness with his lady friends. "Adventure awaits."
Lydia and I walked Shadowmere along the road eastwards to our favorite spot in the river to bathe, just beyond the bridge under the falls, and we removed each other's armor down to the undergarments with the care and efficiency of seasoned warriors. We had done this dozens of times, wanting nothing more after a hard battle to be done and rid of our heavy and soiled apparel, easing tired muscles and bruised forearms with the firm and constant pressure of the cascading water.
Its coldness always shocked me, but Lydia loved it; her Nord blood being more tolerant of the icy fresh snow melt than mine. We sank into the depths at the base of the falls and let the water pound the aches of yesterday's travels out of us. We'd have done this yesterday, but the allure of a warm bed and hot meal drove us directly home to Breezehome instead.
"No lollygagging!" The sound of a woman's gruff voice reached us over the crashing falls. I opened my eyes to see her walking past, her watchful guard's gaze directed at the male guard stationed at the bridge. It was no secret among the guards of Whiterun that the Dragonborn and her wife liked to bathe under the falls near the bridge, and a never-ending supply of ready volunteers would offer up their days off to take a shift at the bridge in the hopes of a sight of the Dunmer skin of the famed Dragonborn, glistening in the clear mountain air.
I smiled to myself, closed my eyes and relaxed, allowing my hips and bare midriff to float to the surface for all to see. Such a tease! To taunt him more, I slowly rolled over to give Lydia a long, slow passionate kiss, then turned to face the guard and winked at him. Shocked at being discovered, he fumbled to regain his composure, mumbling "Ya, no lollygagging. Right", before turning his attention to the road northwards.
We lingered under the falls a while longer; no matter how much I scrubbed my skin never looked clean, but at least it felt clean. Lydia's sword arm shoulder was troubling her again, and I worked my hands over the tight muscles feeling the tension of a few too many recent heated battles slowly easing out of her.
"Thank you my love," she said, relaxing and leaning into my touch, flexing her shoulder. "It's been getting a bit stiff lately. Too much striking Draugrs and blocking bears."
"Are you sure you want to go on another adventure today?"
"I think a short trip would be OK, a visit to Lucan and Camilla, then I think I'll head for Solitude to spend a few days with the girls. They're likely missing us, and I don't like to leave them alone for too long. That's too much work for Jordis, watching those two."
"Yes, I'm wondering if it was a good idea to give them those ebony daggers."
"You gave them those?! I thought they'd found them in a cupboard in the house!"
"No, they came from me. They were all I had on me that was suitable for the girls when I returned from some bounty quest or another of Jarl Elisif's. Lucia was over the moons about hers, and promptly destroyed the practice mannequin in their room. She fights like a cornered Sabercat, that girl. Probably learned from growing up on the streets of Whiterun."
"I think there's a bit of tension between them. Better to destroy the mannequin than slash up Runa. I talked to her about it, and the pair of them are getting along a little better now."
"No more calling each other parts of a skeever?"
"Not lately, which is a relief."
"Yes... OK then, let's get on our way to Riverwood and then we can head to Solitude for a while. Whiterun will have to fend for itself for a few days."
We helped each other dry off and put our traveling armor on; Lydia's, some nice daedric pieces I'd crafted that gave her the appearance of a wingless spiked metal bird, offering some protection of the still-healing Falmer injury; mine a more fluid enchanted set of light leather armor I'd picked up from a Dunmer vampire we'd fought some time back. I had made some improvements to it that complimented my assassin's skills nicely - freedom of movement, good protection from most weapons and magic, and nearly silent. Very attractive too, I thought; it fit my smaller Dunmer form perfectly.
It troubled me that my fellow Dunmer sisters and brothers fell in with the vampires; it was bad enough to come across them aligned with bandits and necromancers, but that was the sad truth of Skyrim : you fitted in where you could find a place to stay alive; the cities all too frequently exclusive to those whose family had lived there for generations. Newcomers, particularly non-Nords, found it near impossible to obtain a place to live, so for many, the open countryside was a more available - and less expensive - option.
"How is your wound healing up?" I asked, concern furrowing my brow.
"It will be fine love, don't worry" she replied cheerily, but I noticed her wince and a sudden intake of breath when the armor brushed against the wound, indicating she still suffered from a possible lingering poison of some sort. The Falmer were known for using such things, concocted from the saliva of the Chaurus insect, giant scaly six legged things the size of a horse which they kept as pets, guard animals, sources of material for their armor, weapons and housing. I must remember to ask Lucan if he has a potion that could counteract the poison when we reach Riverwood; journeying to Solitude with that would be unwise.