Rise of House Sigeweald Book One (Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirty: So sick of complacency now

Lydia was so furious that she let the door to Breezehome slam behind her as she stormed inside, forgetting completely that Elspeth was probably still sleeping in her room upstairs. She was in a terrible mood. The night before they had come home to a cold house and she had to hold back her disappointment lest Elspeth discover that she'd invited Onmund to Whiterun and he hadn't yet arrived. She didn't even want to consider that he might not be coming at all. And now this. She could probably forget about being welcome in Blagruuf's court ever again But that really wasn't her concern right now. She threw down her satchel on the table and paced the floor, trying desperately to calm herself. Two seconds later, the door slammed again as Idolaf came charging in, screaming.

"Have you lost your mind Lydia!?!" His face was red and she could see the vein in his forehead throbbing.

He had some nerve, she thought. "My mind? Have I lost my mind?" She was livid. "I'm not the one who just left the market after berating an old woman!"

"I wasn't berating her," he protested. "I was merely trying to explain—"

"Oh come on! Olfrid was bullying her," she interrupted. "The fact that you just stood there while he called her names and threatened her isn't helping your case."

"He didn't threaten her!" he shouted. "And you didn't have to hit him."

"I didn't hit him!" She wanted to. Lydia wanted to pound Olfrid to the ground when she saw him shouting at Fralia Grey Mane, but she settled for shoving him back toward the Wind District.

"Are you finally picking a side now? Is that what this is? After everything my family has done for you?"

"This isn't about picking sides and you know it."

"I'm not so sure about that. You—"

"The Battle Borns are like family to me," Lydia interrupted. "They were there when I had no one and I have never stopped being grateful. But that doesn't mean I will just stand there and let—"

"Oh please! You've been barely tolerating Olfrid for years."

Lydia was silent. That was somewhat true; over the years she had learned things about the man that had left her image of him tarnished. But this had nothing to with that. "You have a lot of nerve talking to me about being grateful Idolaf," her voice had lowered and she spoke slowly now, betraying her disappointmentas well as anger.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his tone both angry and exasperated.

Lydia swallowed against the tightness in her throat. This was going to sting but she didn't care. Olfrid and Idolaf had gone too far. "When you were a little boy and your father pissed away all his money on mead, who made sure you always had food to eat?"

He looked at her, sheepish at first but then he turned defensive. "The Battle Borns were always generous with me, and your mother—"

"It was Fralia!" she interjected harshly, slamming her fist down on the table. "It was Fralia Gray Mane who never went to bed unless she knew for certain that Idolaf had a hot meal. Every night she went to your house, even if it meant confronting one of Grímnir's drunken rages." She shook her head and before she could stop herself, she shouted more. "Gods, even your inebriated father treated her better." Shit, she thought. She didn't mean to go that far.

But Idolaf just stood there silently, struggling to ignore lump growing in his throat. There was no one in all of Skyrim who could cut into him like Lydia could and she knew it. He glowered at her.

Lydia softened a bit as she watched him struggle to keep his face from breaking wide open. She understood, to some extent, why he needed Olfrid's approval. And if say, he'd married Olfina it would be Eorland's approval he would crave so desperately. But Idolaf was better than this. He had to be. "What happened to you?" she asked, her voice now pleading with him. "What happened to the little boy who used to come running home from the tundra with fists full of wild flowers for his tante Fralia?"