Adventures of the Dovahkiin: A Midnight Surprise!
The front door to Lakeview manor burst open, letting in a shroud of snow, whirling in the night air, and the pale light of a full moon. A figure stomped inside and shut the door, testing his Nordic strength against Skyrim's harsh winds. At last the wooden panel slid shut and he barred it. The man let out a long breath and closed his eyes a moment to pause and recouperate after his journey. A sword hung on his hip, and a round shield lay across his back covering a quiver and an ebony bow, shining with unknowable magic.
The Dovahkiin carefully laid his shield aside and hung his bow by the door. He stepped futher into his home, past the foyer into the main hall. A fire was burning low, and against its flickering light he could see the profile of Ysolda, his beloved wife, a welcome sight for sore eyes and wearied feet.
"Hello, my love. Back from some adventure, I'll bet." The Nordic woman greeted quietly.
"Aye, Hircine's hounds could not match the winter's bite!" The Dovahkiin replied enthusiastically, shrugging off his furs. He laid them down on the table and glanced to his side, towards the family bedroom. "Is Sophie to bed?"
"She is." Ysolda confirmed shortly.
"And Llewwllyn and Rayya?"
"Both asleep as well."
"I was in Winterhold!" He told her excitedly. "Far to the North. During the winter nights, the sky lights up with the gods' own fire. It is truly a sight to behold!"
"And before that, where were you?"
He studied her. Ysolda was hunched over the table, raising a half-full bottle to her lips. If she was not drunk yet, she was clearly well on her way.
"I told you." He said carefully, moving further into the darkened room. "A Draugr tomb in East-March. I sold the treasures and bought us more goods.
"And that woman accompanying you?"
"Serana. A very capable warrior."
"With very full bust." The woman said dryly.
"You insult me, Ysolda." The Dragonborn replied in a warning tone. He felt somewhat betrayed, finding himself being verbally ambushed upon his return. "I would not consider it. She is a vampire Besides, you and I are married."
The woman set her bottle down on the table. "And those are your reasons. In that order."
The Dovahkiin took a deep breath, glaring at his wife. "I am not so impulsive as to see this household torn apart, as sleeping with her would surely do. I swore an oath to you; I will always keep it. And I had expected a warmer welcome."
"A well-deserved one, no doubt." She said acidly. "What could possess you to travel with a Vampire?"
The man frowned. "We were allied temporarily. And why should a greeting not be well-deserved? What troubles you, Ysolda?"
She stared idly into her bottle. "If I told you that Llewwllyn took me to bed. If I said he wooed me with drink and song, made me happy, what would you do?"
"I would end him." the Dovahkiin declared, his hand landing on the hilt of his sword.
"Because you are but a savage brute." She murmured.
Jealousy and suspicion overtook him. "Has he touched you?"
Yoslda remained calm. "Has she touched you?"
"No! She did not. I will swear it on Talos' name!"
She studied her husband, measuring the truth of his words. "And he has not touched me."
"Then why would you ask me that question? What is this? I provide for this family, I care for this family, and I will not be spoken to like this!"
"Ha! Oh Dibella, why did you tempt me so?" she asked mournfully, her face in her hands. "I never should have left Whiterun."
"You were happy to!"
"I was." She agreed immediately. "At the time. Yet I cannot say the same now."
"You swore the oaths of bondage just as I did."
"And more than ever do I feel their weight." She took another drink, spilling a small amount down her sleeve. "I cannot leave for doing so I would bring dishonor upon myself. None would dare look at me for fear of Dibella cursing them with impotence. What would become of Sofie? Not that this is terrible enough, but to be adopted and yet still raised without mother or father…"
"She has both."
"She has a mother!" Ysolda kept her voice low, but there was no mistaking the fury in her eyes. "Any father worthy of calling himself one would be with his family. You are not where you belong."
"I must wander. I must learn and grow and practice. You know the legends of the Dovahkiin. Alduin is on the move."
"Must these battles draw you so far from home?"
"Skyrim is a vast land-"
"Of that I am perfectly aware." Ysolda laughed. "I could not leave if I wanted to. I cannot even find this place on a map, and I cannot navigate the wilds."
The Dovahkiin's brow knitted in confusion. "We dwell in Falkreath hold, just north of Pinewatch. Besides you should never have to leave. I bring back plenty of wealth and food. We grow our own crops. There are books in the library and Llewwllyn the Nightingale is always good for a song -though I hope for your sakes that is all he is to you- You are well cared for here. You can live a peaceful life here."
"It does not matter!" Ysolda finally stood, her rather unsteady rise blunting the edge on her angered defiance. Nonetheless, she rallied magnificently. "It does not matter where I am most safe! Or where is most peaceful!" she took a few steps forward, keeping careful control of her balance as she confronted the tall, bearded Nord. "Your wife is woefully unhappy here. Do you understand that?"
"Sofie is happy." He said immediately.
The woman fought back tears as she nodded. "You do not care for me at all. But yes, Sophie is happy. That is why I stay." She turned away, reaching for the bottle. "That is why I do not throw myself off of the nearest cliff."
"Don't be absurd. And I think you've had more than enough of that wine."
Ysolda was not listening. "You wander where you please, arriving with tales of great Dragons and Draugr tombs, of lordly halls and Dwemer caverns brimming with treasure. Yet you expect me to sit here and read and be happy waiting for you. I am always waiting for you… that is my life now. I wait. It is defined by you. Everything here is defined by you! We do not matter at all! Why did you build this family when you are not interested in being a part of it? We are not the source of your passion, we are just your alternative should your life go awry." She chuckled. "Should you take an arrow to the knee and live your life a cripple you would come crawling back here and expect me to be a generous, loyal lover. I know you, Dovahkiin."
"I have a name."
"I refuse to use it." She snarled, growing ever louder in volume. "For you are a stranger in this house!"
"Enough, Ysolda!" The Dovahkiin took a step forward, furious. "I am not a stranger. I built this home. The wood in these walls?" he motioned around the enormous dwelling. "I chopped down those trees, shaped these walls with naught but an axe and my bare hands. I mined and placed the stones in this floor, and I tied the thatch on our roof. The hay in our beds, the glass in our cases, the books on our shelves all collected by me!"
She snarled at him, meeting him eye to eye. "What a perfect dream! You even put mortal people in it, to amuse yourself when you tire of wandering, an occurrence which is beyond rare!"
"I have built you a life."
"Yet you choose not to be a part of it!" She gestured at Sophie's bedroom door. "Of course, you are aware that there is a child here who relies on you for love and support?"
"I support her as best I can. I bring back books and toys and wealth for us all."
"We have enough wealth to build a small town!" Ysolda argued hotly. "Love of this home is not what drives you! This is where you pause, not where you live!"
"Daddy?"
Both adults froze, each an inch from the others' face. Sofie was standing at her bedroom door, clutching a doll the Dovahkiin had retrieved for her. The young girl had a stricken look; she had clearly been awoken by the couple's argument.
"Sofie…" Ysolda said, her icy demeanor vanishing in a cloud of worry. "Why are you out of bed?"
"I heard you yelling."
"It is the business of adults, little one." The Dovahkiin said, not unkindly. "Now to bed."
The young girl hugged her stuffed figure. "Are you staying?"
Ysolda cleared her throat pointedly and raised her eyebrows at him. The Dovahkiin responded with an equally cold look. "Yes." He said, "Tomorrow we will play."
"Really?" the young girl managed a small, hopeful smile.
"Yes." The man promised. "And I shall read to you from Kolb and the Dragon."
Sofie shifted her feet, looking somewhat happier.
"Come, Sofie." Ysolda offered. She stepped past her husband and around the table, laying her arm across her daughter's back. "Let me put you to bed."
"What were you and father arguing about?" the girl asked as the door swung shut. The Dovahkiin could not hear his wife's reply, though he could make out soft whispering beyond the wooden partition. Temptation passed through him, and he turned towards the front door. Adventure awaited him. And violence, as well. He longed for the Draugr tombs and hunting through the wilderness with naught but his wits and his bow. How could any quiet life produce the excitement and adrenaline of dragonfire against shield? Yet he knew if he followed his instinct, he would arrive at an empty, unguarded home. This argument was not over, so he staid his feet and awaited his wife's return.
Ysolda reemerged after a few minutes. She quietly closed the door behind her and crossed her arms, her heart still possessed by anger. "You're still here."
"You sound surprised."
"I am."
The Dovahkiin sighed. He tore off his fur hood and tossed it onto the table. Then he leaned over and shook out his dark mane, splattering droplets of melting snow across the floor. A few landed in the firepit, making it splutter and hiss. When he was done, he once again regarded his wife, this time with a softer expression. "I am sorry, Ysolda. I did not build this life intending you to be unhappy."
She shook her head slowly. "And I'm sorry, but a hollow apology is not enough anymore. I want a life and friends and family of my own." She said, now pleading faintly. "I know you built this home, and your perfect life, but I want something more for myself. I need it. I feel that I am but a prisoner in this home. Please… free me."
The man stared at her, his arms crossed. Due to the apparent failure of his softer words, his scowl had once again reappeared. Indeed, it had nearly taken permanent root upon his scarred face. He was a man clearly far more comfortable in a physical altercation than a verbal sparring match. He reached up with one enormous hand and ran it down his short beard, staring thoughtfully into the fire.
"Tomorrow." He said. "Tomorrow we will speak of moving to Whiterun."
"No." Ysolda shook her head. "Tomorrow you will play with your daughter, as you said. For as long as she wishes. You will tend to this household, greet your housecarl and our resident bard with due respect. You will clear the rats out of our basement, restock our pantries and catch us a deer for a dinner which you will happily attend. Then after you read to your daughter and put her to bed, we will discuss moving."
"Very well." He said impatiently. " Shall we to bed, then?"
"I will retire to my chambers." She told him coldly. "You will no doubt find more comfort in the stables, they are closer to the wilderness you love so very much."
"Very well." The man gave her a bow, tinged with irony. "As it pleases you, my beloved."
She glared at him, unmoved. "Goodnight, Dovahkiin."
This is the same Dovakhiin as my other skyrim fic, 'A Good Death'. He is probably the only one I'm ever going to write. I'll probably post more stories as they come, and not all of them will be this serious. But I have no plans for a novel.