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Worthy	By : Allyrion Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 26822 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Skyrim fandom nor is this story for the purpose of making any money.

Chapter List
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A cold and cheerless meal awaited inside Breezehome.
It seemed to the Dovahkiin that his wife was even more distant than usual. The odd coldness was not unexpected, or even uncommon. The Dovahkiin was often off on his adventures and they did not serve his relationship well.
Their meal passed ten minutes in silence. The table was lit only by a few small candles, glowing faintly in the fading dusk light. Lydia's face was a still mask not entirely devoid of the beauty that had first attracted the Dovahkiin as he began his adventures in Skyrim.
Of course, as he had continued, he had known other women. As recently as the night before he had seeded Aela the Huntress. But that was not something that needed to be spoken aloud, particularly not at this frigid dinner.
The Dovahkiin continued his thoughts as he ate his meal.
Perhaps he should have been a little more active to Lydia and her needs. Only on occasion had he deigned to bring her along. Often the Dovahkiin preferred to travel by himself, to prove his worthiness and his strength. Other times he brought along a single member of the myriad of characters that had been attracted to his cause. It was enough to drive Lydia more than a little stir-crazy, forced to mind their household in Whiterun.
It was not a life suited for the martial Lydia who had lived her life as a housecarl, a noble soldier of Whiterun. Nord women were drawn to strength; how could they not be, in this beautiful, cold, unforgiving environment. They were unsuited to sitting inside houses.
Equally unfortunately, strength did not always lead to the best prospects of marriage, as the Dragonborn himself proved.
He did not delude himself. The Dovahiin was not the perfect husband by any means, as his continuing adventures and sexual escapades proved. But he was still fond of Lydia, and wished her no harm. However, he would not change his nature or his course for anyone. He was strong, which was what both drew her to him and drove her away.
"Dovahkiin."
A hugely-muscled form, scarred and toned by endless conflicts with giants, dragons, and other denizens of Skyrim, the Dragonborn turned his face to his wife. "What is it, wife?"
"This relationship...the way it is." Lydia spoke the words haltingly, and the Dovakiin flashed some anger. He was not the type to be patient about talk of feelings.
"What of it?"
"It cannot continue this way." Lydia took a swallow, steeling herself. She was a formidable woman, but the Dovahkiin was still intimidating even to the likes of her. A slayer of dragons, a bear of a man, few in Skyrim would risk facing his wrath. "I need to go on an adventure with you. Please."
The Dovahkiin considered. Lydia was no weakling, her sword-arm had contributed to the demise of many foes, even if it had not been recently. She was worthy, and he did not begrudge her desires...in or out of their bed.
"Very well." A man of many words was the Dovahkiin.
"I have scouted a cave hours away from here," Lydia confessed. "I believe it was a crypt of ancient Nords. The air was frigid inside, even near the mouth, and I could hear distant sounds of something I cannot place."
She paused. "It would be a worthy battle."
The Dovahkiin was more pleased at the prospects. He enjoyed conflict and battle, but not the long waits of searching in between. The beauty of Skyrim, pervasive, was something he had observed for far too long to continue noticing it. In his life, he yearned for only further challenges, to set himself against the best nature and dark magics could offer.
"Tomorrow you will lead me to this cave. Ready yourself for battle and collect your armour." The Dovahkiin took another bite.
"One more thing." The words were hesitant, halting, and less certain than before. They had been married for long enough that even the oblivious Dovahkiin could see a strange swirl of emotions on Lydia's face.
Confusion, trepidation, joy, mischief...
"What is that, wife?"
Lydia took a deep breath. "Bring Aela."

The Dovahkiin emerged from Breezehome into morning sunlight. Whiterun had a hard kind of Nord beauty, a functionality and baseness that passed the more urban settings of Windhelm and other towns the Dovahkiin had visited. Above it all, though, as if to remind the town of the true ruler of Skyrim, were the looming mountains. Only Dragonsreach, the hall of the Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun rose to the challenge, and it was a feeble one at best.
Not one for wasting time, the Dovahkiin was already dressed for battle. His iconic horned helmet hid the top of his head, exposing only the lower half of his hard face and dark eyes. It lent him an almost demonic appearance, amplified only further by his near legendary status as a conqueror of Skyrim's evils.
Denizens found their eyes drawn to him and his form. A few of his female conquests favoured him with furtive smiles. The Dovahkiin ignored all of it. He had no time to waste as he strode forward determinedly.
As he approached Jorvvaskr, he saw some of his fellow members of the Companions. While the secret of their nature as werewolves were known to him, he did not let it faze him in the slightest. The Dragonborn gave a nod to a sparring pair of burly Nords, the brothers Farkas and Vilkas. The Companions themselves were among the only people in the town worthy of his notice and respect.
Aela was in the middle of her morning workout already as he stepped inside Jorrvaskr once again. She was swinging with her fists at a workout doll, striking with surprising strength. Despite that, it was the kicks that the Dovahkiin remembered most from so recently, which she unleashed less often, but more devastatingly, rocking the doll.
She was beautiful. Slim, for Nord women as a rule favoured towards athletic, toned, strong, and balanced. Her arms were thin but corded with muscle. Her toned thighs awoke a number of memories of their last coupling two nights past. The curtain of red hair, framing the fierce tattoos on the face, was tangled in sweat but that somehow made her all the more endearing.
"Aela." The Dovahkiin stood in the doorway, huge and armoured. Aela finished a series of blows, then brought a cloth-clad hand up to wipe at her nose, panting slightly. Her eyes met his and her face broke from its still, determined mask to favour him with a smile.
"Dovahkiin. How can I serve." Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but the Dovahkiin had no time for such now. Death and battle awaited first.
"Armour yourself, Companion. You will have the privilege of joining me in battle."
He paused. "And Lydia as well. You once told me that was what you wanted."
Aela contemplated that with the sly smile of a minx.
"Delightful." Aela's normal tone was deeper than most women, but still managed to convey a definitely noticeable note of sultriness. “Sounds like fun."

The morning was not old when the three of them set out from Whiterun together. As they passed into the green, uneven fields surrounding the town, the Dovahkiin took a moment to reflect on the surroundings.
He had been around Whiterun hundreds of times by now, unsurprising given he had chosen it as home over the other potential settlements. By now, he had explored much of Skyrim, from the very bowels of the earth to the Throat of the World. He had seen so much that he now ignored sights that might have inspired others.
It was undeniably pretty though. An idyllic environment of pure nature, and perhaps it had some extra power to him to view it through company, particularly the company of two women.
Lydia, clad in her housecarl outfit and dark hair braided for combat, took a joyful breath of the clean, pure Skyrim air. There was a sense of joy about her. The frigid mask and coldness of the household, cloistered Lydia was gone. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, her legs bare. A faint smile played among her face. It had been some time that Lydia had looked so fair in the eyes of the Dovahkiin.
Aela herself was more serious and reminded the Dovahkiin of a formidable serpent poised to strike. Her sinewy form bore her own standard combat outfit of cloth that slashed down to reveal the curve of breasts and the pale chest. Her eyes were keen, her hair windblown, expression poised and serious.
Aela was the Huntress, and she was looking for her prey.
Together they marched for several hours, well into the uninhibited wildlands of Skyrim. They passed a giant walking along with some mammoths, shuffling along on huge, shambling legs with downcast eyes. The Dovahkiin approved of giants. Fierce fighters when roused.
The only conflict emerged at midday when a pack of wolves found the courage to attack them. Perhaps regarding the Dragonborn as the most threatening, one each dove instead at his companions. Lean grey creatures, products of a harsh environment, wolves were formidable foes. But not formidable enough, As the Dovahkiin brought his own Daedric longsword up, dark but gleaming with enchantment, to ensure no further wolves approached, each of his companions gutted their attackers. For good measure, he gave a ferocious Dragon Shout to drive away the pack, who fled yelping with their tails between their legs.
Lydia's sword was red with blood from where she had thrust it deeply into the wolf mouth. She was breathless, and looked even more excited than before at the experience. The Dragonborn studied her with approval, as Aela herself methodically wiped her own blade off, already prepared for battle again.
As the sun was sinking into dusk and evening descended, they finally found the cave.
It was a large fissure in the rock, with a total darkness inside that would have daunted many common travellers. It only served to excite the Dovahkiin and his two beautiful companions. After receiving a nod from Lydia, the Dragonborn led the way inside.
To address the darkness, the Dovahkiin shifted his sword into one hand. From the other emerged a bright fiery ball of threatening magic. The enchanted sword shone with a low light of its own as the Dragonborn descended, a huge form lighting up the darkness.
Queer sounds echoed through the cave as they descended, and the culprit was soon caught. As the Dovahkiin passed an open coffin, the skeleton inside it suddenly stirred, bearing an ancient Nord sword and with cold eye sockets glowing with bright blue light.
The Dragonborn did not even bother to throw his fireball at the creature. It would have been too easy, and it was his preference to keep it in reserve for further threats. His sword swing sheared the skeleton's weapon arm in half, dropping the sword from his hands. As it clattered unnaturally at him, he swung his sword again through its neck, decapitating it. The bones fell to a pile below him, now devoid of magic.
All around him he could hear the clattering and stirring sounds of more skeletons. The Dovahkiin smiled, and plunged into the fray, his companions following.
It would have been a slaughter, if sending skeletons back to the grave could be counted as such. A dozen attackers drove towards them, and the Dragonborn sped through them like a whirlwind of destruction. One skeleton was deprived of a steely end by a fireball that incinerated it where it stood.
It was not all that easy, however.
There was a strange sound, as if some cloth were being faintly parted. The Dovahkiin cast his eyes upward to see the thick white web and spindly black legs slicing through it. And then there came a louder sound, a hiss from the above, and a huge spider clawed through and began to fall towards Aela.
The Dovahkiin shouted, but was unable to act, parrying the blows of two skeletons to drive his sword into a third. Aela looked upwards to see the horrible sight of the spider falling down at her and then suddenly there was a flash of steely light. A sword suddenly sprouted from the spider's round backside, piercing deeply into its vitals. It was thrown with such force that the spider's diving attack was driven off and it fell off to the side.
Aela looked at the spider and the sword thrown into it, but her attention was driven back towards the skeleton attacking her. The wounded spider, huge and horrible with its mandibles clacking, leapt forward again.
Then a huge sound filled the chamber.
"Fus Ro DAH!"
A huge hurricane of sound and air passed Aela's side, setting her hair flying. It struck the spider square and drove it backward from its second attack. It hissed in confusion and fury, sword hilt still protruding from its body. The creature began to stir for another attack.
It never happened. A fireball followed, a huge, hellish inferno of power thrown by the most powerful man in Skyrim. Some creatures were capable of dodging such, but certainly not a dazed spider struck by a fierce Dragon Shout. The fireball struck the spider square, and its body simply liquified. If the creature could have screamed it would have, but its face and mouth were point of first impact. The legs twitched horribly and then they too disintegrated, until there was nothing left but a foul stench and cinders.
Aela dove under her skeleton's blow and raised her own sword in a vicious uppercut to shear the skeleton's skull in two, the front of the skull falling away. As it reeled she swung her sword in another blow to decapitate it.
Hers had been the last. Silence fell on the cavern.
The three stood there, panting. The room was the last of the cave. Inside the coffins were a variety of goods, the odd gem and heirloom buried with the skeletons. It was evidently a traditional Nord burial site.
"Was that worth the walk, husband?" Lydia commented. She no longer bore her own sword, which was now completely disintegrated, a casualty of the fireball that had claimed the spider.
The Dovahkiin nodded, then turned to loot the cavern. Availing themselves of any equipment they deemed worthwhile after the battle, the Dovahkiin and his companions made ready to depart. Through the darkness, their feet often met the bones of the defeated skeletons.
Lit by the light of the Dragonborn's sword and fireball once more, they made their way out to see a dark night that paled before the darkness of the cave. As they continued forward, the Dovahkiin saw Aela throw a curious glance at Lydia, but no words were spoken.
They would need to camp for the night.
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Worthy