The bandits capture Lydia and put her in irons

What followed was not a fight, more like a couple of bullies picking on a kid. The bandits soon capture Lydia, tying her hands behind her back with handcuffs and her legs together with metal irons.

“That was good for a laugh,” said the chief bandit. “Ok darling, since I´m in a good mood, we´ll let you go on your merry way. Next time, bring enough coins for the toll.”

“Ugh! This is so horrible! I'm a fool! No Nord woman would ever allow herself to be humiliated this much!” Lydia thought as the bandit carried her to the start of the forest trail. “I must regain my honor!”

The bandits pushed her away with a spank on her firm behind. Lydia only had one choice. She would have to go to Solitude, no matter how embarrassing it was, and find a blacksmith to unshackle her. No way to reach Whiterun otherwise.

She starts making her slow way toward Solitude. Lydia can´t cover herself even from the slightest breeze, her exposed skin filled with goosebumps. As her legs are bound together, she can´t even walk normally, instead jumping like a kangaroo toward her destination. Her bouncing chest is also starting to hurt a bit. Her breasts have no support from the continuous hopping.

It´s a hard trek, but her amulet kept her protected from the worst. Lydia is cold, somewhat hungry, and tired from the walk. But the determination to regain her honor, or at least stop its freefall, keeps her going. As she grows closer to the path, she sees travelers.

They smirk and whisper behind her back. The guards seem to be debating wherever they should arrest her for indecent exposure. They decide that the cold and the humiliation are punishment enough. One of them approaches before she can enter the city. “Halt, what business do you have here?”

Lydia struggles to make eye contact with him, her mind swimming with nervous thoughts. “I know I look pathetic and ridiculous. I am in no condition to speak with the guard. If only I had my helmet. And my sword. At least then I would look like a warrior, and they would respect me.”

She bows deeply to the guard and says: "Please sir, let me in, I am a housecarl!"

“A housecarl, heh? From what hold do you hail? And why do you drag yourself here in chains? How do we know you aren´t an escaped prisoner?”

She raised her head, still bowing. Lydia looks at the guardsman with ****, pleading eyes. "I am Lydia, Nord Housecarl. I was captured while on duty by bandits. I am making my way to Solitude to find a blacksmith to remove the chains so I can recover my honor, my position, and my sword."

“No self-respecting Nord would make up such a lie. Sure, go in, but don´t make any trouble or I´ll haul you to the dungeon.”

“Thank you, sir. I promise I will not stir up trouble, all I want is some warm, fresh food, a bath, and a blacksmith,” Lydia says. “And for the love of the gods, some clothing. It will be hard to look a blacksmith in the eye,” she thinks.