AN: Happy Birthday Skyrim! Three years ago I purchased this fantastic game. Now it's exactly three years later, and I felt obligated to start a story before 11/11/14 was over. So far the story is short and crappy. But it's a work in progress. It'll become something better when I have more time to dedicate to it.
Happy playing Skyrim!
Life After Skyrim
It was late into what had been a wonderfully sunny day—very unusual for a day in Frostfall when it should be snowing, but Delvin Mallory had his suspicions about that. He happened to know that the Dragonborn could keep the skies clear with a mere shout.
He smiled and whistled a happy tune as he came upon his destination, up the road from Falkreath. The trip from Riften had not taken as long as he had expected, because of the clear skies, clear roads, and his own two quick feet. (He was getting old, but he could still outrun a bear if he needed to.)
Situated by the lake was the Dragonborn's house. One of three of the Dragonborn's larger, and completely built with the Dragonborn's own two hands, homes. Lakeview Manor, he was told, was the Dragonborn's favorite homes, and when the Dragonborn wasn't out and about doing her thing, she spent her time watching the sunset over the lake while listening to her personal bard—Llewellyn the Nightingale, Delvin thought he remembered the name—playing his lute.
All this was explained by the Dragonborn to Delvin during a drinking match. The Dragonborn, of course won the drinking match, so the arrangement was that Delvin had to now visit Lakeview Manor and babysit the Dragonborn's two adopted kids for a week. Delvin was a man of his word, despite his occupation as a thief and an old codger, so here he was: Lakeview Manor. And he was impressed.
The house was beautiful. Large. And definitely full of riches. The Dragonborn's riches. Meaning, the house was, for a thief wanting the riches… untouchable.
At least for any thief in the Thieves Guild. Them thieves were smart. Them thieves did not want to piss off their own Guildmaster. Them thieves wanted to keep their hands, arms, heads—however the Dragonborn decided to maim them for taking her riches. Delvin kept in mind that the Dragonborn could also call upon the Dark Brotherhood. Hell, she was in charge of the Dark Brotherhood—he was one of the very few outside the Dark Brotherhood that knew this.
Not that he was afraid of the Dragonborn, you see. Delvin was actually very close to her; best friends forever type stuff. It was how he knew so much about her. And why he was more than willing visit Lakeview Manor to meet the Dragonborn's family. As awkward as it may sound outside the Ragged Flagon and the guild, he already felt a part of the Dragonborn's family. Perhaps he was the long lost uncle. (It didn't matter that he was a Breton, and the Dragonborn was a Dark Elf.)
Yeah… that's what he would tell the kids. He was their long lost Uncle Delvin.
Stepping into Lakeview Manor, Delvin was immediately greeted by the Redguard Rayya.
"Welcome. May I take your vest Mr. Mallory?"
"No, thank you," he said, chuckling. "I'd prefer to keep it on, if that's all right." He didn't usually wear anything underneath his Thieves Guild Vest.
"Of course," Raaya replied, nodding her head once. "We've been expecting you, Mr. Mallory. Unfortunately the Mistress is out for the moment. She promised she would return as soon as she is able."
"Well, that's why I'm here, isn't it? To watch the kids while she's out running errands?" He used the word errands because it seemed more appropriate than saying missions, or assignments. Or whatever else the Dragonborn did in her time while she ran around Skyrim.
"Yes," Raaya replied, hesitantly. Delvin realized that Raaya was offended by the idea of him being there. Perhaps because she did not understand why she, herself, couldn't handle watching the Dragonborn's adopted kids as the steward of the house. And Delvin knew she had once been a Housecarl to the Dragonborn, too. He had seen Rayya in the Ragged Flagon on occasion, back in the early days of the Dragonborn's start in the Thieves Guild.
Delvin knew that the Dragonborn now went on her adventures with her husband, Marcurio—some strange mage-mercenary that used to hang out in the Bee and Barb before he met the Dragonborn.
"Let's see these children, then," he encouraged Rayya. He didn't want Rayya to think he was more interested in the house and all the riches within. Rayya knew what Delvin was.
"Of course," she obediently repeated, showing no inkling as to how she really felt about a professional thief being in the Dragonborn's home—then again, Rayya knew that the Dragonborn was a professional thief, assassin, and so much else. "Lucia, Francois," Rayya called upstairs. "Our guest has arrived. Would you like to meet him?"
The first one down the stairs was a little girl. Lucia, Delvin presumed. She stood in front of Delvin with her hand on her hip. She was carrying a wooden sword attached to the other side of her hip. "Mama said a man would be showing up. She said you're supposed to watch us. Like we need watching," she laughed.
Moments later a boy came down. Francois was holding a book he was still reading and eating an apple. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he looked up from the book. "Rayya, what's this strange man doing in our house?" he asked.
"Children," she replied. "This is Mr. Mallory. The man your mother said would be visiting us this week."
"Just think of me as your Uncle Delvin," he was sort of late in saying. He didn't think it would take.
"Uncle Delvin," Francois repeated. "I've never had an uncle before. Or if I did, I was never told."
"Do you shave your head like that on purpose?" Lucia asked. "Or does your hair not grow anymore?"
"Lucia, try to be nice to our guest," Rayya admonished the little girl.
Delvin crossed his arms. And then he laughed. Oh, watching these kids was going to be fun, he thought. So much fun.
