Author's Notes:

-Firstly, nearly all of my writing experience comes from essays so please pardon me if my tone seems...detached.

-Secondly, this is intended to be a series of vignettes as I attempt to create an actual plot, so expect some disjointment.

-Thirdly, this will be based on a composite of several playthroughs.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Coming Home.

The swamplands of Hjaalmarch, while not inhospitable, were probably not high on peoples' lists of must-see destinations. On a good day it was half-cloudy and covered in mist. The rest of the time, it was usually storming (snow, rain, and stuff in-between) and clouded over. Naturally, the weather only accounted for maybe ten percent of Hjaalmarch's perpetual lack of settlements. The rest could be chalked up to the lack of solid land (only about half of the sole settlement of Morthal was built on solid rock) and the incumbent wildlife/natural inhabitants. While the usual bugs and mudcrabs were a mild nuisance (even a useful one, if one were an alchemist or supplier) and the horkers were big but not fast, the real problems came in the form of random giants and trolls, draugr from various ruins lumbering about, and infrequent vampire lodgings in the same. The giants were of particular concern as they generally preferred the plains to the immediate south and thus tended to rampage if they came up north.

None of this bothered the young woman making her way north along the mountain range on the eastern border, bow in hand and a plethora of daggers ready to go. Lucia clan Kiin-vah had spent much of the latter half of her adolescence in these swamps and had, in fact, seen far more hostile lands in her adventures across the continent. Her mother, Wyldruun, the legendary Dragonborn, had stumbled into Morthal once on a journey to the hold of Solitude. She solved a local murder case while accomplishing some tasks for the settlement residents and had been rewarded with an honorary title and the plot of land which served as Lucia's present destination, Windstad Manor.

It was a place she frequented at least once every two months, barring that one time she was delayed in Morrowind, to both see her brother, Alesan, and to stock up on travel needs. This time, though, she had one other, embarrassing reason: she broke her sword in a brawl with Braith Battle-born in Whiterun.

In spite of herself, she let out a light sigh of relief as she approached the expanded stables just south of the entrance hall. It had originally fit only two horses but her father, Jackson, had expanded it to six the summer before her eighteenth winter. Her papa then proceeded to add a new floor to the main hall and clear out and expand the cellar the following summer. He capped off the third summer by building a medium house just west of the main manor, which her mama's steward, housecarl, carriage driver, and bard currently lived in, and a large shack1 behind the alchemy tower which housed the combined smithery made from the various smelters, forges, and workbenches from around the property.

The sound of forge-fire and pounding metal was a comforting and nostalgic one for the eldest child of the Dragonborn. Although no master blacksmith, her mother picked up a lot of skill through her adventures. Hearing hammer strikes usually meant that not only was her mama home for a few days, but she also had some interesting loot2 to show off. It later also became a signature of her father, who seemed to always have some new idea for metal working. In this case, it also meant her sister-in-law was outside working.

Her brother and his wife were both master smiths and made a comfortable living off of their craft. However, even with the obscene set-up her father had left them, there was still not enough room for two smiths to work. Fortunately, Alesan had strong talents in alchemy and enchantments so, while Dorthe smithed weapons, armor, jewelry, and other tools and supplies, while the man of the house brewed tonics and cure-alls and enchanted his wife's work with arcane energies. Or, as Lucia described it, her sister slaved over a hot forge while her brother made spit-shined her work and served it up with a drink. She'll never forget the first time she mentioned this: the children and Belrund tried to muffle their chuckles, Valdimir looked indifferent (honestly, Lucia liked the man but his sense of humor was a bit lacking), her brother looked both gobsmacked and immensely insulted, and Dorthe was hunched over the floor laughing her head off. She'd never seen Alesan look more betrayed.

Heading to the back she knocked on the side of the shack with a greeting, "Hey! Can I get some service in this dump?!" The swift reply, "Order up! One knuckle-sandwich - hold the gloves - and a dagger in the side" put a grin on her face as Dorthe swept out with a bone-creaking embrace. Despite herself, Lucia was often startled by her sister-in-law's strength, considering her rather svelte frame.

After returning the embrace (and making a show of checking her armor3 for damage) Lucia quickly turned the topic to the family. "Oh, you know how it is: swing the hammer through the day, wrangle the kiddos in the evening, ride Alesan into the night." Another old joke, this one explicitly at Lucia's expense. She didn't consider herself a prude but her four nieces and two nephews were all the story she needed on the subject of her brother and sister-in-law's 'activities.'

"So, need any help out here?" Like her mother, Lucia had a tendency to volunteer help to almost everyone she talked to, which was why she even owned Windstad in the first place. Wyldruun, though, was more brusque than her daughter. "I'd hate to leave my beloved sister-in-law, whom I absolutely adore, out here alone!" Lucia may be more soft-spoken but she was also more sarcastic. Her father frequently compared her to his father, whom none of the clan had ever met. Her father was annoyingly evasive about that.

"Nope." I really rankled Lucia that her sister could simply smile, even when covered in soot and dirt, and be the most beautiful thing in the room. "Unless you've brought some work for me?"

The reminder of her blunder in Whiterun caused her cheeks to turn pink. She gave a weak chuckle as she retrieved the cloth wrappings from her travel bags. "Perhaps I brought you some scrap metal, actually." The blade had first bent about seven centimeters from the hilt before finally shearing off. The shorn-off blade was also very visibly cracked and had probably been ready to simply shatter.4

Her sister's expression was halfway between 'impressed by the carnage' and 'irritated-beyond-belief mom'. "Are there some dragon bones in that bag to go along with this mess?"

"No," Lucia sheepishly rejoined, "just some wounded pride." She proceeded to give an account of her encounter in Whiterun which culminated in a duel and a broken sword. "Apparently, the shield Lars had just bought turned out to be one of father's so, you know-" she gestured vaguely to the broken sword "-that happened."

"Well then, I'll just toss this in the scrap heap and we'll head in." The aptly named heap was a true hodge-podge of broken and twisted metal. Most visitors5 would likely gawk at the massive pile of metals but Lucia knew most of it came from Solitude. Old Beirund had semi-retired and Windstad was the next closest operation able to fill war orders. "Hope you're not too worn out from your trip; the children have been gnawing at the bone for you to visit."

For once, the radiant smile now adorned Lucia's face.

Chapter Notes

1. The "Smithery" resembled a primitive assembly line with the ad-hoc smelter able to reach temperatures of approx. 2200°C and various precision tools and support apparatuses for armor working. The improved weapon grinder could even run in a semi-automatic mode for basic grinding.

2. Thus began the honored clan tradition of stepping away from any cabinet or wardrobe in case a weapon or armor piece came tumbling out, as Wyldruun had a bad habit of storing nice armor and weapons "for later" and promptly forgetting about them. So it was that nearly every chest, barrel, and cubby in the clan's holdings had at least one weapon or piece of armor in it.

a) Breezehome in Whiterun was the worst offender as the chest in the master bedroom alone had enough weapons to arm the entire city with plenty to spare.

3. Mythic Armor, crafted for her personally by her father. The aesthetic borrowed heavily from Jackson's old Glass Armor but in blue and violet tones with harvest gold accents. There was a glass covering in the front of the helmet (Lucia knew it was no ordinary glass as she had taken a heavy mace strike right to her face and her helmet had been fine) which was entirely opaque on the outside and the suit had and underlayer of leather-like material that only appeared when all the armor was worn. Jackson explains that he weaved a kind of Conjuration spell into the armor as he was making it. For the reader, its similar to the undersuits used by MJOLNIR.

4. The truth of the matter was that it did shatter, right along a transverse crack which caused the blade to finally break off.

5. Of course, there was a large stand just past the garden where most business was transacted so most patrons never actually saw the scrap heap