Bromniir the Nordic Dragonborn looked at his Lakeview manor, appreciating it for all it's worth before taking a deep breath and stepping through the door. Lately, he had been having troubles with Ysolda, his wife of ten years, stemming from his long travels around the province and beyond. Unfortunately, his wife failed to realize the gravity of his position as the only man capable of actually killing a dragon, which necessitated his patrols around the provinces of Skyrim, Cyrodiil, Morrowind and High Rock. While most people would be completely happy with the money he was bringing in, his dearest had the honour of being one of a very few people with a rare condition: Being a trader who cared little for money. It was an infuriating dichotomy of situations that led to their spats, as one was used to working with others for their gain, while he himself was always capable of making it alone.
So, it was with that in mind that Bromniir prepared his mind and ears for the inevitable onslaught of "Where have you been"'s and "Why do you keep on doing this to us"'s and strode through the foyer... only for the 'inevitable onslaught' to greet him with a smile and a curt kiss on the lips, which left him dazed. His arms wrapped around Ysolda then, and the woman grabbed him gently in return speaking to him softly.
"Hello again, my love. Back from one of your many adventures, I bet. How have the roads treated you this season? You were out a very long time, and I missed you terribly."
Bromniir smiled wide at her kind demeanour, moving away from her to remove his bursting pack and travel gear as he answered her.
"Me? Oh, I'm doing all right. This was my longest patrol yet. I'm amazed that they haven't stopped coming, yet. 12 seasons I've steaded here, and another two before that I met Alduin, but it almost seems like I'm meeting the same faces over and over. However, these fights were harder than before. I must have seen 20,000 gold pass through my fingers as I sold my wares for potions and ingredients. It would have been a loss, had I not been so diligent in my studies at the College in my youth. I won't lie to you, Ysolda; I almost met my end a few times this journey, but your advice to pace myself more carefully has paid off. As promised, I have for you the bones of ten dragons, the scales to match, and two new sets of enchanted ebony gear, complete with weapons for all disciplines, as well as a new set of Stahlrim gear for your wait. May they serve you well."
She smiled, pointing to a chest in the corner and speaking.
"I put your share in the chest there, because holding it in pouches is just wasteful, now. You'll find a little something extra in there for you, too. You know, for your trouble."
He looked at her smile, a little too wide for the situation, before walking to the chest and opening it. Inside, a variety of objects were nested in mounds of coin and gemstones, which made his eyes balk.
"Y-Ysolda? What is this?"
The woman walked over to him, kneeling beside him and speaking softly.
"This is your share, you silly old man."
Bromniir looked up to the roof then, running some numbers through his head.
"... Ysolda, have things changed recently? It seems I've been grossly overpaid. These flawless sapphires and emeralds fetch ridiculous coin, as I remember it, and there seems to be almost a dozen of them here. Not to mention all the coin you've saved here. Was I really gone that long?"
Ysolda's look changed then, as she looked away and to the ground. Bromniir was about to backpedal and try to salvage the situation when he got a better look on her face, to see... embarrassment?
Just what has gotten into this wife of mine?
"... Ysolda, my love? Is... are you well?"
She looked up at him then, shaking her head and speaking slowly.
"Well, there is more there, but you were only gone a season, as you said. We... well, we came into a few... deals, lately that I... I couldn't ignore..."
The way she said that sent shivers down Bromniir's spine. He stood up then, looking around closely at the place as he observed everything he could. A few things here and there were missing, but that was to be expected. The usual people were milling about here and there, as his older adopted children watched over his and Ysolda's own children studiously. However, a door that was usually closed at all times was open, and the chills he had felt only increased.
"Ysolda... What deals did you make? What, EXACTLY, did you sell?"
...
Bromniir looked around at his Mage's tower, a visage of horror replacing his usually passive or happy face as he looked at the startling lack of all things daedric.
"Ysolda... You sold Dawnbreaker? The Black Star; Mehrunes' Razor? The Ebony Mail AND The Savior's Hide?"
Ysolda pointed up to the top of the tower, speaking again.
"... There were a few others, too. I... I think all of them, actually. Even the Three Scrolls. Not a one left, besides... besides your shield... of course... He was a mage, after all..."
Bromniir turned to Ysolda then, who started to wilter in his presence. He spoke loudly, with obvious fury in his voice as the ground started to shake.
"Ysolda... What. Have. You. Done? Do you even realize what horrible objects those were? What awful things could transpire now that those artifacts are out in the world again?!"
Ysolda bristled at the rebuke, putting her fists on her hips and shouting back at the man.
"What do you care!? They were collecting dust! You KNOW how much those items fetched for! Besides, what am I supposed to do with items so 'dark'? Keep them here, with our children?"
Bromniir grabbed Ysolda's arm, dragging her out to the porch and screaming to the heavens. The air trembled with the sound, and Ysolda staggered back at the terrible power of the enraged Thu'um.
"YSOLDA! You sold MEHRUNES' RAZOR! The dagger that can kill even a dragon in ONE BLOW! You sold the boon of Clavicus Vile! The Ebony Mail, The Skull of Corruption, the Wabbajack! THREE ELDER SCROLLS! Together, a mage with those items could terrorize, murder and eventually destroy all of Tamriel! ALL OF NIRN! There was a reason I collected them! Have you ever considered that a man with those items could kill us all? Even me? I collected them to stop things like this from happening! Precisely because I DON'T intend on using them! Look at me, Ysolda! Look at this scar on my cheek!"
Ysolda looked terrified, as Bromniir turned his face and pointed at his most prominent scar.
"A thief had stolen the Razor from my home shortly before we were first to be married. You remember when I missed the first date, and didn't show my face around you for a month? The thief joined the Brotherhood, and promptly started murdering everyone with the thing before I faced him down and took it back! This scar was what I received from that fight! I almost died for that Razor, not to mention the time I first got it, when a man aspiring to revive the Mythic Dawn reforged the thing and teamed up with a pair of Daedra to kill me! I can't even – Who bought them?"
Ysolda was crying now, and barely managed to stutter out a response.
"An – An old Orc, calling himself U-Urag..."
Bromniir's rage instantly deflated, as he turned away from his wife, looking out to the lake.
"... Urag... Did you catch his surname?"
Ysolda sniffled, running up behind him and clutching him tightly, speaking as quickly as she could.
"Bromniir, I – I didn't know! I'm sorry! I – I don't want you to die! Please! I just thought -"
"Urag... was his name Urag Gro-Shub, Ysolda? Do you remember?"
Ysolda went slack a little, and Bromniir turned to face her. Her lip was quivering as she nodded her head, unable to speak. With that, Bromniir slumped down before her, looking up to the heavens and letting out a huge breath of relief.
"Oh, thank the divines..."
Ysolda walked up to him then, sitting beside him and saying, "... Bromniir?"
Bromniir looked at her, speaking.
"Urag is a librarian at the College... of which I am the new Arch-Mage. Thankfully, he was one of a very few in all of Tamriel who could adequately secure the artifacts, and would not be tempted to use them. All he cares about is knowledge, and history. He mentioned that he would one day make a museum of all the objects I acquired, and I told him that it would take a decade, at least. Well, he's almost there, now. We really lucked out, Ysolda."
She nodded her head, sitting astride him and resting her forehead on his. He held her back, suddenly feeling the weight of the season and the past hour weighing down on him.
"I... I haven't felt that scared since Helgen..."
Ysolda opened her eyes then, looking at him seriously as the door behind her opened and their adopted children came out, looking at them intently. Bromniir stood up then, setting Ysolda onto her feet gently before looking at the kids and Ysolda and speaking.
"... I... I have some things to talk to you all about. Let's go inside, and gather the house."
...
They nodded, and walked ahead of Bromniir as he walked over to his modest throne and took a seat, looking at his family and friends gathered there. He took a deep breath, before speaking out loudly.
"Thank you all, for waiting for me this long season. I... I know that my absences have been getting longer, and that the waiting is killing you all, and I'm... I'm sorry for that. But this last trip was... harder than I'd like to admit. Truthfully, I think I'm getting on in my years now. I'm no longer the spry young man I once was, able to scale the Hafkasejuun in a single day or defeat ten dragons in two. I'm... I'm tired, tired of all the killing and the violence and uncertainty. Therefore, I've decided that, while this home has been good to me, to us, I can no longer stay here. I've decided to take up teaching at the College of Winterhold, and I'd ask you all to come with me, if you would."
Ysolda was overjoyed at the prospects of her husband taking up that task. Her children were also overjoyed, as having their father around more often would be nothing but a boon to them. Their steward, a Dark Elf named Brelyna, was also happy, because it would mean that she could return to her college and continue her studies at last. Their adopted children, however, had different thoughts. The boy, Aventus, looked down, twirling a dagger in his hands as he thought. Lucia, however, immediately went rigid, speaking up suddenly to the group.
"D-Dad... Mom... I've been courting someone. Here, in – in Falkreath. Hamming. He works at the mill..."
Ysolda looked shocked at the sudden confession, but Bromniir merely chuckled, shaking his head and smirking.
"So that's why that boy became so nervous around me... Come, Lucile, let's go pay him a visit then, shall we? He and I had an interesting conversation when I passed through there earlier today."
Lucile went rigid, but followed the man as he walked out the door, whistling happily as he planned what he would do next. He had a lot of work ahead of him, and the dragon slaying couldn't stop immediately, but he was much more confident now that he had gotten all that out of the way and off of his chest. Unknowingly, Ysolda had freed him of another burden by selling his artifacts. Now that he was no longer their master, he felt surprisingly light and happy.
Skyrim was a dangerous place... but he was confident that it would only get better from here.
A.N: Hey, everyone! Nanaiomoyeah here, and man is it good to join the Elder Scrolls FF Community! I've been working on some other Skyrim stuff for a while now, but got stuck, and it just didn't feel right to up and stop posting, so... I made this monstrosity! No, in all honesty, thanks for taking the time to give this a once-over. I was inspired by the idea of the Dragonborn coming home, and seeing all his hard-earned loot sold out from under him by his loving wife, but the funny idea quickly devolved when I realized just how serious a problem that could be. I mean, can you imagine someone in the Dark Brotherhood having Mehrunes' Ra - Oh, wait... You probably CAN! :-D
Anyway, think of this as a preview of the kind of writing I will be doing for this game. If this interests you, and you have an Idea you would like to share with me, then by all means, please do so in a Private Message. If you have to do it in a comment, then do so, but remember that it's against the R&G of the Fanfiction Archives to do 'Choose your own adventure' stuff, or things like that. Alternatively, I have an email at nanaiomoyeah through gmail, right as it's spelled in this sentence, if you have any questions or concerns. Finally, I would say that if this little blurb has you intrigued, then let me know, and I may convert it into a series following the life and times of the Mature Dragonborn as he tries to solve a recurring dragon menace, as well as deal with the problems that age can pose on one with big dreams. I'll be looking for... say, 25 favourites on this first chapter to convert it to a series, so remember to share it around if you liked it!
Best of wishes,
- Nanaiomoyeah.