Outgrowing Skyrim

Virgins beware, this is a horny chapter.

 

 

 

“Release the girl and nobody gets hurt.” Lydia says.

 

“No! She's right where she belongs. Here with her family. Her real family, not those sell outs who dig up our silver for Nords. Turn around now and I'll let you leave. Stay only if you are prepared to surrender your life in one way… or another.” the Briarheart sorcerer responds.

 

He wears only a cloth on his hips which does little to conceal his package. A similar ruddy skin to his kin, unblemished save for the open cage in his chest. A Briarheart bud rests inside, like a young pineapple but much redder and sticky looking. On his head is a small network of antlers over which is stretched a piece of fur, like a demonic deer. Apart from his headdress and loincloth he's completely bare, lacking even shoes.

 

“What do you mean 'One way or another’? What's the other way.” Lydia asks.

 

“I think you know. You walked these halls, even a barbarian like you should know the hear of Dibella by now even if you reject her teaching.” the Briarheart says.

 

“Explain it to me.” Lydia says.

 

“This is a waste of time.” one of the surviving Forsworn women growls, wearing a bloodied feather headdress. “Let's just kill her and be done with it!”

 

“Now now, don’t be hasty. A warrior such as her, even a heathen, can still have a place in her worship.” the Briarheart says adjusting his cloth.

 

“You can’t be serious! She and that other bitch killed most of our sisters! There’s no way in hell!” a mohawked sister cries, pointing her stone ax at Lydia.

 

“It's not about what you’ll accept. If Dibella has sent such a powerful warrior to us, who are we to say no? Even if it costs us a little blood, have you forgotten who we are? We are the Forsworn and our blood belongs to the Reach and her God's.” the Briarheart preaches.

 

“You’re just a horny troll! She dies!!!” she yells, rushing Lydia.

 

Mohawk reaches Lydia and almost immediately eats a shield to the face. Teeth and blood fly as her jaw is half ripped from her face, the shield edge landing directly in her screaming mouth. An arrow shatters on Lydia’s armor as the feather headed archer fires from across the room. Lydia advances and is met by a shaved head and a blue mask tattoo berserker wielding two bone shortswords. The warrior immediately swings on Lydia when she's in range but it's hopeless. Nearly naked these would-be berserkers have nothing to stop Lydia from dismembering them and she does, taking the right arm and then the left arm. The female berserker stands there in shock, armless and gushing blood like some perverse fountain before falling head first in her own blood. The archer fires again and manages to hit Lydia in the neck, stopping the murderous housecarl for the first time today. It only lasts a moment. Lydia easily pulls out the arrow as if it were a splinter, the crude arrow only just penetrating her skin as if she were some great hulking beast (she is). 

 

“Gods no!” the archer cries moments before her head rolls off with the feather crown still attached. The Briarheart wastes no time complimenting Lydia.

 

“Very good. With a warrior like you at my side I’ll have no problems completing my work. Before long even Markarth will recognize this place at the true Temple of Dibella. But before that” he says, shifting his loincloth “I’ll have to induct you with the proper Dibellian rituals before-”

 

The Briarheart keels over dead before he can finish his disgusting thought. Behind him I stand clutching his apple sized briarheart. It's just as sticky as it looks and smells sickly sweet. I had to use my last invisibility potion and a pickpocket potion but I think it was worth it. 

 

“I was beginning to wonder where you were. I can't believe that worked.“ Lydia says astonished.

 

“I wanted to see if he'd say anything good but it turns out he was just a filthy pervert. It worked out better than I expected.” I reply.

 

“H-hello, is anybody there?” a frightened child's voice calls out.

 

“Oh sorry I almost forgot.” I say, running to a single cell prison in the back.

 

It was obstructed by a pillar before but inside the very small cell is a young girl in her preteens. Long flowing chestnut hair adorns an unsurprisingly beautiful face, the kind that gives other young kids their first crush. Brown eyes that glitter as if cut from a sparkling geode, she is without a doubt touched by the goddess of beauty.

 

“Who are you people? Please don't hurt me.” she says, using her big eyes like a puppy. I imagine it works very well on everyone else. 

 

“Fjotra, right?” I ask. The girl nods. “We're from the temple in Markarth. We're here to bring you to be the next Sibil.” I explain.

 

“Then it's true then, what they say. That I'm touched by the Gods?”

 

“Well one god in particular. I don't know about the others but I'm sure they like you too. We'll take you to see your parents and then drop you off at the temple when you're ready.” I reply.

 

"I've heard stories about the wonders of the great Temple in Markarth. But I never dreamed that I would even get to see it. I am honored to be called for this duty. Please, lead on.”  she says cooly.

Fjotra doesn't seem to mind the bodies and blood or even the smell of feces from the corpses. She's also fantastically easy to handle for a kid. Too easy. If she were my kid I would be worried about her mental state. Her only complaint is that I take too long looting but it's a small price to pay for a well behaved kid. As we approach her village, Karthwasten, I decide to at least pretend that she might be a normal kid.

 

“Your home town is just up ahead. A lot of grown ups are going to tell you that you need to head to Markarth and be the next Sibil. That it's your only choice. I'm telling you that's not true and if you don't want to go you don't have to. Just let me know and I'll figure something out.” I say.

 

Fjotra stares at me like I'm from outer space. After a moment she giggles.

 

“Thanks for your concern but I want to be the next Sibil. I'll miss my mom and dad but… it'll be worth it. I'm sure of it.” she replies confidently.

 

“Alright but just remember it's a lifelong commitment. You're not going to get to do or be anything else but be the Sibil the moment you step foot in Markarth.” I say.

 

“I'm confused, weren't you supposed to bring me to the temple in the first place?” Fjotra says suspicious.

 

“I was and I am. I just come from a culture that likes to think it can defy fate. That and I couldn't stand it if a little girl was bamboozled into something she didn't want to do.” I say as I start walking again. 

 

Fjotra looks to Lydia who shrugs and we continue to the village.

"Father!"

 

"Fjotra, dear! Did they hurt you?" Enmon says hugging his daughter.

 

"Of course not. My spirit remains strong." she says seriously.

 

"My little girl. Always strong. Do you know where you have to go?" he asks.

 

"I'm to go to the temple in Markarth. I... I'll have to leave you and mother.”

 

"It's our honor to have you there. These women are going to take you to Markarth. Are you ready?"

 

“Actually….” Fjotra says, glancing at me, “I was wondering if it would be okay just to spend one more night with you and momma. Pleeeaaase.”

 

“Of course. If it's alright with your escorts I mean.” Enmon says gesturing at us.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Yay! Thank you so much. We can go to the temple first thing tomorrow, I promise.” she says beaming.

 

“You're welcome to stay the night here if you want. It's the least we can do after you've saved our daughter.” the wife Mena says. “I'll ask around and see if I can't get some bedding from the others.” 

 

“That's alright. I packed bedrolls so you don't need to trouble yourselves.” Lydia replies. “Just let me know where I can put them.”

 

That's my girl. Always prepared. Camilla catches my attention and we head to a quiet place.

 

“Alex,” Camilla says quietly. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

 

“Sure, what's up?”

 

“I know it's not any of our business but I wanted you to know this town has more problems than just a missing girl. I don’t know if you can do anything about it but a wealthy family sent some hired thugs here to bully the owner into selling the mine while pretending to fight the Forsworn. I know it's a long shot but I promised several of the townsfolk I’d at least ask if you could do something about it.” she says, trying not to sound too pleading.

 

“M’kay, what do you think?” I ask. 

 

“I think it's terrible. I think those sellswords should be taught a lesson about bullying the weak.”

 

“Okay, what do you think I should do about the town's situation?” I ask.

 

“I really want you to show those mercenaries what for! These are good people and they just want to be left alone.” she huffs.

 

“Okay… but what then? I have to leave eventually.” I reply.

“Hire mercenaries? I don’t know. That may not even be an option out here, they’d be pretty expensive. They could arm themselves but they could have done that already. And both options may just draw the attention of the Forsworn who might raze the town thinking it's a stronghold for the Nords.” she ponders.

 

“That's true. Either way I’m not too sure about butting in on something like this. Unless we can think of a good idea in the next twenty four hours the town’s probably best left alone. The thugs aren't stupid enough to kill the labor so no one is in immediate danger.” I say.

 

“Still it doesn’t seem right…” Camilla sighs.

 

“Would selling the mine be the better option?” I ask. “There would be guards at least.”

 

“That would depend on the terms of the deal. It's probably an all or nothing deal that most Nords are fond of but no one here wants that. They really care about the town since they’ve all poured so much into it.” Camilla explains.

 

“Could the rights to the mine be sold separately from the town?” I ask.

 

“The mining rights could be sold, sure but what is the point? Mining is all this town has. There’s not really much else out here.”

 

“Not yet but I bet this place gets real popular after the sale. An inn and a store or two would probably make these people just as much coin as they did before servicing travelers, guards and the new miners that come by after the sale.” I offer.

 

“That… could work. It's so simple I can't believe I didn’t think of it. It’ll be a hard sell but if it works then everyone will get what they want. Except maybe the Forsworn but I think I can live with that.” Camilla says happily. 

It took some convincing but Camilla and I convinced the owner that selling the mining rights was in everyone's best interest. Part of that was helping the more prominent miners with their business plans. Enmon and Mena want to open a general goods store with some alchemy on the side. The owner plans to open an inn. His foreman and an orc girl are still going back and forth on whether to start a forge or hunting shop. The rest of the miners will just sign on with the new owners when they come. Per the new contract the mine will run as it has for a year and then the new owners will take official management. That pleased most of the miners and best of all we get to deliver the paperwork for a nominal fee. The buyers still have to approve the deal but the owner doesn't think it'll be a problem.

 

The negotiations do take us the better part of the day so when we return to Markarth it's late afternoon. Most of the city is in shadow, only the very tops receive any twilight. Dwarven effigies catch the light exaggerating already stylized features of the faces carved into the high walls and mountains. Fires already light the way to the temple. Once inside the mother immediately greets us.

"You... you found her? I can't believe it. Let the girl come with me and we can begin her preparation.” the other sisters immediately take her by the hand, leading her deeper into the temple. “I will send word to her family that she is in good hands. You've truly earned the Blessing of Dibella, child. Prostrate yourself before her altar, and she will bestow her gift.”

 

With that she leaves and I let out a small moan of relief. The fighting, traveling and negotiating had done a great job suppressing my libido but one whiff of the aphrodisiac compounds from the temple and I was hard even before the sisters started moving. They jiggled everywhere while attending the brand new Sibil. One of the sisters nearly gave herself a black eye when she bent over too quickly to attend Fjotra. I have to take a moment to compose myself or else I might just cream my pants right here. After I'm sure I can move without triggering an orgasm I turn around to the basin in the center, recalling my memory of the game on how to proceed.bI kneel, say a little prayer and drink the water just like you would in the game. That should work as far as I know so after praying at the shrine (the little one that gives a temporary buff) we leave to find an inn room.

 

The girls have been oddly quiet ever since we entered the temple. Even when we check in I don't hear a peep of the usual banter. One of the changes I was hoping for after I accepted my new life here was that being a (mostly) girl would have made me a touch more social. It hasn't and I sometimes feel bad that I don't have more to add whenever girl talk happens. They don't seem to mind but it's times like these where I wish I could break the ice to start conversations. Entering the room I start getting settled when I hear the door close and lock. It's a little early for bed so I look at the door to see Camilla looking back at me biting her lip.

 

“I can't take it anymore Alex.” she growls.

 

“I'm sorry what?”

 

“Here my Lady let me help you with that.” Lydia says starting to peel off my armor.

 

“Help with what?!” I ask as bits of my leather are forcefully stripped off.

 

“Oh come now even you can't be that dense.” Camilla purrs as she sashays over. “We did want to wait after we got married but Dibella had other ideas. It took everything I had not to jump you in the temple.”

 

“We're basically married now anyway by ancient custom. There's no reason to hold back.” Lydia says, pulling my chest piece off.

 

“Exactly. Here let me help.” Camilla says pulling down my pants, exposing my once again erect cock. “Oh my, you really were built to be a husband.”

 

“No fair. I was saving that for last.” Lydia whines as Camilla takes my dick in her hands.

 

“Sorry sister but I can't wait. I'll make sure you have a turn, don't worry.” Camilla replies as she begins to stroke my already leaking cock.

 

Yeah that's not going to happen. Before Camilla can get to ten strokes I erupt like an over pressurized water gun, cum flying everywhere. Camilla jerks my cock in surprise causing an even bigger mess. I ejaculate mindlessly for a good thirty seconds earning a soft “wow” from Lydia. After several moments I collect myself to find the girls just staring at me.

 

“Sorry…I've been…pent up….” I manage.

 

“Yeah I can tell.” Camilla says, decorated with ribbons of white cum.

 

“Let's clean up a bit and then it's my turn.” Lydia says getting a rag.

 

After a minute or two of clean up Lydia sits me on the bed with my legs cranked as wide as possible to allow her hulking frame access to my crotch. Even though she's between my most powerful limbs there's no doubt in my mind that I'm completely at her mercy, her arms are thicker than my legs by a wide margin. I've also leaned out since last time I saw myself without clothes, my abs are visible and I helplessly watch them contract as my housecarl has her way with me.

 

To my surprise she ignores my dick and fondles my spent balls for a minute before lifting them up and going to town on my wet pussy. I nearly jumped off the bed in surprise but one hand is all Lydia needs to pin me down. She starts greedily at first but slows down to stop me bucking my hips. Once we get into a good rhythm she eventually releases my balls and lets them fall on her face like a perverted blindfold while she savors what must be the most delicious pussy in the world.

 

Camilla slides behind me on the bed and props me up on her lap and torso. Looking up I stare into her big brown eyes and see the primal cloud of lust that's infused around her. I don't understand why other women in my old world hated being stared at like a piece of meat, this is awesome. Before I know it my head and lips are being caressed softly with. Camilla softly moans as she does and sends me over the edge. 

 

My testicles lift away from Lydia's face and I blast her and the ceiling with girlcum and cum. Not as long as the first time but I'm still too stunned to speak, just panting and heaving amid the occasional drops of my semen that drip from the roof. Camilla holds me for a few moments longer as Lydia wipes both of us down. 

 

“How are you holding up my love?” Camilla asks.

 

“Abamfa….” I mumble out. This having a dual orgasm thing is mind blowing but I'm about outta brains.

 

“I don't think she can take much more.” Lydia states, jiggling my boneless body.

 

“That's what potions are for.” Camilla says matter of factly popping open a small stamina potion and pouring it over my body. My fading erection pumps with new vigor much to the girls excitement and my horror.

 

“I was sure you were going to use a health potion but I can't argue with the results.” Lydia says gently stroking my cock.

 

“That's next. According to some ‘scholars’ you need a combination of both to completely restore male vigor.” Camilla replies, popping a small health potion this time. My dick gets even harder and starts leaking fluid again as if I hadn't just had the two greatest nuts of my life.

 

“Yes I can certainly see the difference. Would you like me to hold her while you take your turn?” Lydia says, still lightly playing with my cock.

 

“I think that's a great idea.” Camilla says.

 

The girls trade places. Lydia removes everything to reveal her gargantuan muscles, bouncing breasts and glistening folds. Camilla removes her Imperial battle skirt with her back turned to fully reveal her thick thighs and fat jiggling ass. Lydia takes my still lifeless body and props me up on her monster thighs which are thankfully still soft enough to be comfortable while I watch Camilla dance slowly. Once Camilla’s sure I've had plenty of time to admire her wobbling backside, she spins around to straddle me on the bed.

 

The potions they used restored my body but not my mind or my nerves. My motor control is totally fried, I doubt I could grip a sword or even a mead bottle right now. I'm helpless as Camilla starts to grind on my erection, her sopping wet pussy banishes any friction as I become a water slide for her pleasure. A few more eager strokes later and my cock slips inside causing both of us to moan. I nearly cum again, saved only by Camillas own pause to orgasm all over my cock.

 

“Oh… wow… that's amazing.” she moans breathlessly, slowly starting to grind on me as she recovers. She gets faster and faster until I can't hold it anymore and blast my load inside her. Camilla shudders into another orgasm at the sensation, her walls milking me for everything I'm worth. Finally she collapses on top of me and we lay there in a sweaty panting pile of sex. 

 

Lydia doesn't move either of us. Even our combined bodyweight must feel like nothing compared to her massive quadriceps. She simply caresses my head and plays with my hair while she waits for her turn.

 

“Gods I needed that. What about you Lydia? I've got a few more potions if you want them.” Camilla says.

 

“No, I think I'll be fine. I want to try something anyway.” she replies.

 

“Alright.”

 

Camilla moves off me and Lydia wraps herself around me gently massaging me all over. I moan when she kneads my breasts, which had been neglected this whole time. It feels quite nice and even when she rubs my hardened nipples it's not overwhelming. Eventually she moves lower and applies the same gentle touch to my chubby dick having never fully deflated from the last orgasm. Slowly it rehardens by her gentle touch ready for service. Once she’s satisfied she flips me around on top of her coaxing me in. I’m made of wet spaghetti at this point but with her support I manage to enter her properly and begin weakly thrusting. She then wraps her legs around my hips and smiles, aiding my thrusts and then slowly leading them. She keeps it at a slow pace staring into my eyes and I struggle not to break her gaze. This doesn’t make sense, even lifting my head is impossible right now. Only discomfort can motivate my jello body to any kind of action. Squirming around her solid frame I look for an anchor point as we undulate, unable to find any position that will keep me upright and comfortable. Finally I give up and bear straight down on her tits with my hands, locking my arms and squishing her breasts mercilessly with all my weight. Lydia moans as her palm filling boobs get used as support pillows. I can feel her nipples stabbing at the center of my palms so hard it's almost uncomfortable. She picks up the pace, going faster and faster from the sensation. They may be comfortable but her boobs are far from stable causing me to thrust deeper as her tits jiggle up and down. Her pace gets more and more furious as we slap together so much that I’m afraid I might actually tear her tits off. Lydia doesn’t seem to care as she moans like a wild animal, her pussy tightening in the telltale signs of incoming orgasm. It comes and she wraps herself around me as she convulses on my cock. Hilted painfully deep inside of her something flips inside of my brain and I forcibly ejaculate just as Lydia's own orgasm starts to fade. Just like with Camilla the sensation of my blasting release on her womb triggers something within her and she starts orgasming all over again, her walls and folds milking my cock hungrily. 

 

She holds me close until she feels me go soft and I eventually slip out of her. even after she releases me she doesn’t move me, just letting me rest on top of her I lay there practically paralyzed and barely conscious. Something is definitely wrong with sex in this world. I shouldn't be able to jog all day but get laid out flat by nutting. Keeping myself awake with sheer willpower I try to work out how I’m going to move when Camilla picks me off of Lydia and starts wiping me down. 

 

“There there,” she coos. “It’s alright. You can rest. I’ll clean you up and you should be fine in the morning.”

 

All it took was that little bit of permission and I was out.

I was not fine in the morning. Weak, wobbly, and with a case of brain fog that I hadn’t experienced since coming to this world, I am a shadow of my former glory. Even my bits and pieces look shriveled up; my balls are only half their normal size and even my boobs seem smaller. Nothing like this was a part of the game suggesting its yet another crazy consequence of world logic. At least I should be able to ask someone about this.

 

“I think you're suffering from mage bane.” Camilla says seeing me struggle. “Mage bane is what supposedly happens if a magic user engages in any kind of intimacy and that's why many magic circles prohibit it. I thought it was a lie to control fellow spell casters but I think last night proves it's a real thing. It should go away on its own,or so I’ve heard.”

 

“Great.”

 

It's not the end of the world, today should be an easy day. We're visiting Fjotra today after delivering the message from Karthwasten about the mine sale. It shouldn't take too long so we'll probably be on a carriage before midday which should be enough time to just reach Morthal before dark or at least Dragons Bridge for the night. As much fun as we've had, no one wants to stay another night on Markarths stone beds. The wood and hay would be a welcome change from the stone and whatever kind of bronze the dwarves built with.

 

We deliver the letter to the Treasury House with little fanfare, only a curt acknowledgement from the receptionist. It doesn't really matter since we received a nominal fee from the mine owner beforehand but you'd think they'd be a little more excited. Well the boss might be at least. 

 

Fjotra is doing just fine despite my suspicions, for now at least . She says she's just begun to hear Dibella's voice thanks to the temple sisters. She says she doesn't understand a whole lot of what the goddess says yet but Fjotra says that she seems to like me. That's a good thing I suppose but what's troubling is that the temple sisters like me too. Within ten minutes of the visit they had draped themselves all over me, whispering about the arts they wanted to practice on me. Camilla and Lydia dragged me outside almost immediately after that.

 

I am dragged stumbling to the stables outside the city and sat on a kart like a four year old in time out. Once I'm safe from the ‘harlots’ Camilla goes back for some supplies the girls wanted while Lydia guards me from any would-be predator. I tried convincing Lydia that what just happened was not my fault (I can barely move after all) but my pleas fall on deaf angry ears. Camilla returns sooner than expected shaking and pale.

 

“A woman was murdered in the marketplace. One of the workers stabbed her screaming about the Forsworn. The guards were on him right after that but I don't think I can stand this city a moment longer.” she declares.

 

I couldn't agree more. It's all I can do to fumble out of this kart to hug her right now, I can't imagine getting involved in this mess. Thank the gods for Lydia otherwise we would have had to stay until I recovered.

We make it to Morthal by carriage in one shot, uninterrupted by Forsworn, bandits or even beasts. We passed through Karthwasten and the general area of the Broken Tower so maybe our activities made the area momentarily safer. Leaving behind the treacherous mountains of the Reach we cruised peacefully down into the swamps of Hjaalmarch hold. Morthal and it's cool swamps produce nothing of real value so here it's easy to understand why we can pass so easily. There's hardly anything good to raid for except the alchemical ingredients that are abundant everywhere. Arriving in Morthal we're treated to the sight of a mob in front of the first visible building, the Jarl's longhouse illuminated by dim twilight. This is the first time I think I've seen one of the more rugged hold capitals, of which there are four out of nine. The longhouse is built similarly to those Scandinavian churches from my old world only brighter in color from the thatched roof. The other three should have the same design just like the rugged inns do. The mod is decidedly unimpressed the same way I am though.

 

“What's the Jarl going to do about it?” one man says above the clamor.

 

“How are we supposed to feel safe in our own homes?!” shouts another.

 

The crowd agrees with the two men and gets even rowdier. No cries from anyone else can be heard, drowned out by a braying herd of angry citizens. One haggard man is all that stands between them and the door, though he looks fairly young despite the stress.

 

"Please, enough already! I have told Jarl Idgrod of your concerns. She'll look after you all. Please, go back to your business.”

 

Two guards previously hidden by the throng push the closest protesters away from the stairs with their shields.

 

“We have no need for wizards in our midst!"

 

"Morthal has enough problems as it is!"

 

More guards start to appear, flanking the mob. Their sash is a light green, which is confusing because Markarth uses dark green.

 

"Bah, its no use. Let's get back to it then.”

 

The menfolk start to disperse, still grumbling but no longer aggressive. I clock a woman with dark hair and revealing outfit watching from afar under one of the awnings that all the homes seem to be built with here. It's crazy what people will protest here.

 

Morthal has the rugged model of inn which we have all to ourselves. It's only claim to fame, besides the terrible Orc bard, is the ale which I can actually tolerate. Normally I can't stand the stuff and stick to mead. Apparently the innkeeper and the town alchemist conspired to make it. Also there are no doors on the inn rooms here, which is a choice. It supposedly helps with air flow and mold. I don't think it's working. If I wasn't ninety percent sure the local vampire was going to ignore us I might have an issue . 

The morning comes and I have all of my blood (I think). Despite immediately heading for an ancient Nord crypt and then fighting necromancers, draugr and giant spiders the day is relatively uneventful. Filed firmly under the category of ‘I have a Lydia’. Just like in the game the horn I was sent for is gone and in its place is a letter telling me to head to Riverwood. Part of the reason I'm here despite having known this is to keep up appearances and not come off completely as an omnipresent demi god but also to avoid any pitfalls that blindly following my game knowledge might create. It would be laughably easy to set up a trap that would end me if there's a third party that knows as much or more than me so my best bet for now is to take it slow.

 

There is sadly no carriage out of Morthal so we have to spend one more night in the swamp town to avoid night travel. It's not all bad though; the apothecary is surprisingly well stocked and I get a chance to visit the wizard everyone was talking about. He is a perfectly reasonable Redguard mage, if a bit guarded. After a brief chat I buy a spell of Fire Rune and a Flame Atronach spell off him and I part ways no worse for wear.The smell of mold is somehow stronger the second night.

The next day we leave Morthal, and its problems, for another day. Although Whiterun hold is technically next door there is no direct road to the hold capital and a full day's travel would only carry us as far as Rorikstead, so sayeth the innkeeper. Solitude, the capital of Skyrim and the next hold over to the west, is less than a half a day's travel by comparison so it was decided that we’d stop there insead so Camilla can sell the remaining merchandise and we can catch a kart the next morning. Surprisingly Camilla herself was the one who was most against this plan, wanting nothing else to do but return to Whiterun, but she agreed to go after I told her about the dress shop I wanted to visit for the wedding.

 

The only road out of Morthal briefly touches the beginnings of snowy mountains that stretch towards the Pale, one of the northern holds and the last hold to border Hjaalmarch. We follow tiny streams flowing from the rocks as we walk away from the mountains and towards the swamp. No sooner had we left the rocks behind did we encounter a shaggy sheep dog whining softly for our attention. It bade us follow it to its home, a small but tidy shack in a fairer part of the swamp not 5 minutes from the road. If I didn't have vague recollections of the upper I might have ignored it. Inside the shack is the corpse of a man who is not nearly as fresh as his in-game counterpart was. His journal conveniently refreshes my memory and explains the situation. This is Meeko (the dog) and that the man was suffering from a case of rockjoint that he knew would kill him. A thought occurs to me.

 

“Lydia, could this man not have simply gone to Solitude and prayed to any of the divines for healing?” I ask.

 

“If he had the coin. Potions that cure disease or a priest's healing are quite expensive for the average person.” she replies.

 

This confirms that normal people can’t pray at a shrine for healing like I can. It also highlights that I am somehow connected to the gods more deeply than I first thought. I don’t really know what to do about it but it's something to think about.

 

Meeko to her credit is a really smart dog and seemingly understands my intentions to adopt her with little coaxing. After taking anything useful we set the shack ablaze. Even tiny dwellings like this could become a home for something nasty and burning the corpse prevents it from a freebie to whatever evil might have set up shop here. Meeko whines as her home burns but after the roof collapses she picks herself up to follow us. Cheese also helps.

 

From the swamp to the river that feeds it we can see Solitude easily from here. It looks like if Hogwarts decided to become a full city. The Blue Palace, the Jarls' home, sits atop a great pillar of stone that used to be part of a greater cliffside until the river decided it was time to carve a great hole through the center. The palace itself gets its name from the deep blue roofs adorning it, I would guess. If it sank to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean my people would think it was part of the lost city of Atlantis. The rest of the town is connected via the land bridge the river has yet to steal. At several stories high it looks quite precarious to me. The rest of the town is mostly obscured by the well maintained medieval looking walls, save for the occasional roof or tower. We cross the river at the town of Dragons Bridge, a town whose main purpose is to facilitate traveling to the capital via an ancient bridge decorated with a rather accurate dragon skull sculpture. We make it to Solitude by midday and I’m dragged off to look at dresses. I endure it and enjoy a nice bed made of actual cloth and stuffing instead of hay and pelts that night.

The kart ride back to Whiterun is relatively peaceful but not uneventful. We passed a couple of giants and their mammoths a few miles outside of Rorikstead. We debated after that whether a distant bird may or may not have been a dragon but it never got close enough to know for sure. Camilla and Lydia are making wedding plans on the ride home, apparently I get little say in the matter but it's not an overly gaudy process like it was in the old world. Camilla will get married first and take the title of Hearth Wife that I just learned today existed. Lydia will be married a different day and take the mantle of Shield Wife. 

 

Apparently there are four respected titles a wife can lay claim to and they are, mostly, universal. Most wives in common families here in Skyrim are by default Hearth wives but very few common spouses claim the title. It’s actually more common for them to claim the title of Shield Wife since many Nord women were warriors before settling down as a way of preserving honor and dignity. Hearth wives are only referred to as such when there is more than one wife.

 

“What are the other two titles?” I ask curiously as we bump along 

 

“The only other one I know of is called the Fire Wife. They are Bards mostly so the title gets a bad reputation and is rarely used. I don't know what the last one is.” Camilla says.

 

“The last title is the Clever Wife and it's used even less in Skyrim these days.” Lydia explains. “Those who seduce their way into prominent families usually get slapped with the title Flame Wife but the Clever Wife has an even worse reputation thanks to it being associated with magic. The title supposedly refers to an intelligent or crafty wife so strategists, alchemists and even blacksmiths are thought to be included in the title but most don't want the stigma associated with it.”

 

We continue chatting at length until we get to Whiterun around dusk. I make my intention to buy a house clear as I stroke Meeko's head and the girls seem to approve. I don't tell them I intend to adopt a certain little girl if she's still around. I'm fairly sure it'll be fine though. Theres also a job I have to do for the Thieves Guild while I'm here but I don't tell the girls that either. It would only upset them and this one should be easy. Lastly we should check up on Hrongar so I ask Lydia to look into his whereabouts if we don't see him in Dragonsreach. The girls are pretty keen on getting married quickly so I may not have as much time to spend on him as I'd like. I'm settling down after all.