Special Part 1 — Flowers in the Snow, Blood on the Stone
A boy around thirteen years old walked through the gates of Windhelm, his hood covering part of his face and hair. His stride was firm, but his eyes clearly betrayed annoyance.
Few knew who he was, but rumors spread like wildfire through the snow:
The newly recognized Dragonborn had arrived—this time, sent directly by General Tullius.
"Tsk… that old cheat," Einar muttered with frustration, his youthful brow furrowed as he took in the frost-covered streets. Snow piled in every corner, and the shadows of poverty crawled through the alleys like vermin.
"He sent me to the most rotten place in all of Skyrim…"
He knew that if anyone found out about his mixed heritage—half elf, half human—they wouldn't just hate him… they'd probably hang him in the town square.
And that's if they could defeat him.
"Uh… hello? Would you like to buy a flower?" came a soft voice at his side.
Einar turned, ready to brush her off… but paused when he saw a girl no older than five. She was trembling. Her clothes barely covered her arms, and her legs were red from the cold. In her frozen hands, she held a small basket of wilted flowers.
"Aren't you… cold? Where are your parents?" Einar asked, his frown more concerned than harsh.
"I-I don't have parents. W-would you like a rose? I picked them myself…" the girl replied, shivering, her breath escaping in puffs of white vapor.
Einar looked at her for a moment. He wasn't angry at her—but at the world that had left her like this. Without another word, he removed his cloak and gently placed it over her shoulders.
"I don't have any money right now, but I'll leave you this cloak. An old cheat gave it to me, so it must be worth something. You can sell it if you need to… or at least it'll keep you warm."
With the cloak off, his silver hair and piercing blue eyes were exposed, drawing the attention of nearby passersby. Some looked at him with contempt… others, with confusion. His ears weren't quite elven—but not fully human either.
Einar pulled a steel helmet over his head, hiding his face.
The girl, confused but grateful, tried to offer him a flower in return.
"It's fine. I don't need flowers right now. It's a gift. But promise me you'll use whatever you earn to get something warmer to wear."
"...T-thank you," she murmured with a timid smile.
Einar smiled back faintly and continued on his way toward the castle.
…
Sofie clutched the cloak tightly. It was so warm… of course she wasn't going to sell it. Instead, she wrapped it around her back—too big, dragging in the snow—and kept offering her flowers, now with a little more energy.
"Would you like to buy a flower?" she asked softly. One by one, people ignored her or waved her away.
Still, she kept going, hoping she'd meet someone kind again… someone like that boy.
And then, a massive explosion shook the city.
Alarms rang through the streets. Guards ran in all directions.
Sofie, terrified, looked around wildly… until she saw someone fall from above.
Einar landed right in front of her, his face smudged with soot and his breathing heavy.
"Mm. Still here," he muttered upon seeing her… still trying to sell flowers despite the cold.
"Come on!" Sofie shouted suddenly, running off.
Einar raised an eyebrow, then sighed and followed. At first, he walked. But seeing her clumsy steps, he simply lifted her upside down in the air, carrying her under one arm.
"Just point the way," he said.
Sofie stretched out her arm, pointing between the alleys. Einar dashed like a shadow between the buildings until he stopped beneath a stone bridge.
There, between threadbare blankets and a dead campfire, was her home.
"Why did we come here?" Einar asked, confused.
"You're escaping, right? They won't find you here. It's… it's my house," Sofie said, lowering her gaze.
Einar said nothing. He looked around carefully. There weren't any real walls—the snow came in from every side, and the sticks in the fire pit wouldn't have warmed a rat.
"Have you always lived here?" he asked quietly.
"N-no. I lived with my mama, but she died. And papa… he was a Stormcloak. He threw me out. Said I was useless. Since then… I've lived here."
"How long?"
"A month… I think."
"Where's your father's house now?"
"He died last week. The jarl gave the house to another soldier."
Einar clenched his jaw. Not an ounce of compassion for a child. No respect for the daughter of a soldier—even if she was born a bastard.
He crouched down to her level.
"How old are you?"
"Seven," she said calmly.
Einar frowned. She looked five at most. Probably malnutrition.
The sound of soldiers' boots grew louder in the distance.
"Aah… it doesn't matter. Do you want to come with me? I'm traveling alone, and I have to leave this place. Anywhere is better than here."
"You'll… take me with you?" Sofie asked, hugging the cloak.
"Of course. And if you don't want to stay with me, I'll at least bring you to a warm place. A proper orphanage."
Sofie looked up at him with wide eyes. She gave a small nod.
Einar patted her head gently and stood up.
"Then let's go."
That's when the soldiers found them.
"You damn brat! You attacked Galmar! Surrender or I'll take your leg!"
"Quite the welcome," Einar replied calmly, lifting Sofie into his arms. She clung to his chest, nervous.
"I've got more important things to do than waste time here. My visit is over. Goodbye."
"Attack!" one of the guards shouted.
But before they could move, Einar lunged at the nearest one, striking his neck and knocking him out cold. He took down another with a swift blow, and without slowing down, dashed toward a nearby wall. He vaulted onto the rooftops, arrows whistling past him.
At the top of the city wall, Einar unsheathed a short sword and drove it into the stone, using it to slide smoothly down to the ground.
Sofie, still in Einar's arms, had a dazed expression… but said nothing.
Einar whistled calmly.
Immediately, a figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby house. He looked around cautiously, then gestured for them to come closer.
Einar entered without hesitation, with the same ease he displayed when walking into a battlefield. The man shut the door behind them and slid a heavy iron bolt into place.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed? You said this was a stealth mission. Blowing up part of the castle is anything but stealthy," the man muttered, his anger restrained as he glanced from Einar to Sofie, clearly confused.
"Don't worry about the details. The general gave me freedom to gather information however I saw fit. Stealth was… optional," Einar replied with absolute calm as he gently lowered Sofie to the floor.
The girl looked around with narrowed eyes, still disoriented. They were inside an old house—completely empty, except for a table, a couple of chairs, and a fireplace with a pot of soup bubbling over the flames.
The moment the warm aroma hit her nose, her stomach growled without mercy.
Einar turned to her.
"It's fine… we'll lay low for a few days before leaving," he said gently, walking over to the fire, filling a bowl with hot soup, and handing it to Sofie with care.
The man didn't answer right away, but a visible tic twitched in his brow.
"Tsk… fine. I'll be the decoy. But if I come out of this alive, you'll owe me more than just a meal, kid."
"I've saved your life more than once," Einar commented, unbothered.
The man pointed at him without turning back, threw on a cloak similar to Einar's, and stormed out the door.
Meanwhile, Sofie took the bowl in her small hands and looked up at Einar.
He gave her a faint smile—barely there, but enough to put her at ease.
She began to eat slowly, still a bit confused, but with every spoonful, life seemed to return to her little by little.
They stayed hidden in the house all day. At dawn, Einar went out briefly to buy some food and listen to the local gossip. He needed to know if it was safe to leave without attracting attention.
When he returned and they'd finished eating, he packed everything up and prepared to leave. He took Sofie in his arms again, gently settling her on one side as they walked.
"Where are we going?" Sofie asked, curiously glancing around. She was wrapped in an enormous wool cloak that covered her completely—only her tiny face peeked shyly from beneath the hood.
Einar, disguised as a blacksmith—with soot-stained clothes, his hair wrapped beneath a strip of cloth, and his face smeared with soot—answered without breaking stride:
"I heard a strange story. I'm going to check it out. After that, we'll leave this place."
They walked through the residential district until they reached a rundown house. It looked abandoned, but a faint candlelight flickered through one of the windows.
Einar held Sofie carefully, jumped with ease, and entered through the open window.
"Holy Mother, Holy Mother, send me your children,
for the sins of the unworthy must be purged
in a baptism of blood and fear…"
The child's voice echoed within, reciting with an eerie calm. Einar frowned immediately. He recognized those words.
As soon as his feet touched the floor, he saw a boy kneeling in front of a skeleton. His hair was black, his clothes were ragged, and in his hands he held a bloodied heart, stabbing it again and again with a rusted dagger.
Without a word, Einar covered Sofie's eyes.
But it was too late.
She had already seen part of the ritual… and let out a soft whimper.
The boy turned instantly. His eyes weren't wild with madness—but shining with hope.
"You came! I knew you would!"
Einar observed him calmly, though inside he was puzzled.
"You brought a girl with you? Is she your daughter? No matter—what's important is that you're here."
"…I have a lot of questions, but I'll ask just one. What are you doing?" Einar asked, his voice serious, though not threatening.
"I performed the Black Sacrament! Again and again. With the body… and the stuff I found. And it worked! You came! A Dark Brotherhood assassin!"
"I'm not—"
Before he could deny it, the boy continued quickly.
"Please. I need help. It's a contract. There's this woman… evil. She hurts the kids at the orphanage. I—I escaped, but I couldn't just sit and do nothing. She forces them to work, beg for coins, and hits them if they don't bring enough. One of them… I saw his hand, twisted all wrong, like it was broken…"
Einar didn't reply. He just listened. Calm. Silent.
"It's the orphanage in Riften," the boy concluded.
"Riften, you say?" Einar murmured, stopping for a moment.
As it happened, his next destination was exactly that—Riften. He had planned to gather intel there after his last mission had gone sideways. And now this…
He looked down at Sofie, who stared up at him without fully understanding what was happening.
He thought… if he cleaned out that orphanage, maybe he could leave her there. A place with other kids. Something that resembled a home. After all, his next missions would be far too dangerous to bring her along.
He turned back to the boy.
"How did you get here from Riften?" he asked with a flicker of curiosity. The kid couldn't be older than eight.
"After my parents died, the jarl sent someone to take me to an orphanage called the Honorhall," Avento began, voice low but steady, never breaking eye contact. "But… I couldn't stand that place. So I spent weeks cleaning the scouts' armor or begging for food… and at the same time, I kept gathering information about travelers heading to Windhelm. Once I had enough money, I befriended some people in a caravan so they'd think I was one of their kids. Especially the cart driver—he didn't let me ride alone."
Avento gave the faintest smile, a flicker of childish pride in his eyes.
"People thought I was just a friendly kid traveling with his family. But that wasn't true… and that's how I made it here. Then, with some money my mother had hidden away, I bought what I needed to perform the Black Sacrament. Got it in the Gray Quarter."
Einar watched him in silence, analyzing every word. His mind processed it all with calm precision.
Avento was young—but smart. Too smart for his age.
"Either way, I have to head there," Einar said at last, glancing around the empty house. Then he turned to Avento.
"I wouldn't mind taking a look at the Honorhall Orphanage for you. If that evil woman is no longer there… it might be better than trying to survive on your own. Believe me… she—" he nodded toward Sofie, "—also lived on the streets for a while. And it wasn't easy. Especially in this world."
Sofie nodded firmly, looking at Avento with honest eyes.
Avento hesitated. He thought it over for a moment.
He knew Windhelm was a cruel city. All the gold went into the military, and no one cared about orphans—or the Argonians, for that matter, who lived in miserable conditions down by the docks. The jarl hadn't opened a single orphanage, even though war kept leaving children parentless.
"…Alright," Avento finally said, his voice serious. "But only if Grelod is no longer at the orphanage."
Einar looked at both children. For a moment, he wondered if he was getting too involved.
But even so… he didn't hesitate.
They left the house together.
Einar still carried Sofie in his arms, as she remained weak, while Avento followed with a steady step.
..
The three of them walked until they were outside the city walls. A few guards eyed them with suspicion, but Einar ignored them as if they didn't exist.
At last, they reached the stables, where his horse awaited.
But seeing the two children and all the gear, Einar realized one horse wouldn't be enough. He could push it… but he didn't want to risk them.
The carriage would take five days. On horseback, only three.
So he made a decision.
He purchased another horse—a young, strong, dark-coated steed. He named it Storm.
He loaded Avento and the gear onto the new horse, while he and Sofie rode on Tornado, his usual mount.
And thus, their journey began.
..
They rode along lonely roads, Storm tethered behind Tornado, making their way to Riften. They stopped from time to time to let the horses rest and eat.
Einar would cook simple soups to keep the children warm, and when night began to fall, he'd dismount and set up a small tent among the trees. He didn't sleep. He stood guard, just in case wild animals—wolves or bears—wandered too close. More than once, they did.
And by the next day, they became dinner.
Sofie quickly grew fond of him. She asked questions constantly while they rode, her eyes always wide, always curious, taking in the landscape with wonder and joy.
Avento, on the other hand, was quieter. But he listened. He paid attention to everything Einar said.
"Once, I saw a mage heal a man who hurt his foot," said Sofie excitedly. "The magic was so pretty… bright like the sun." She waved her fingers, mimicking the light.
Einar smiled softly.
"Do you want to learn magic?"
Sofie shook her head, a little more serious now.
"No… Magic tomes are too expensive. Really, really expensive," she added, as if she already knew she'd never afford one no matter how hard she tried.
"Well… I have a few tomes. Want me to lend you one?"
Sofie's eyes lit up, and she craned her neck to look back at him with genuine excitement.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I have a few I… bor—found," Einar replied, casually correcting himself as he brought the horse to a stop.
"Let's take a break. We still have nearly a day left to ride."
He gently helped Sofie down, then walked over to Avento and helped him off too.
Reaching into one of Storm's saddlebags, he pulled out several magic tomes—five in total, each with runes etched into the covers.
Two were for Restoration, and three for Destruction, each tied to a different element.
"Pick whichever you want. You too, Avento," Einar said calmly.
Avento looked at him in surprise, a faint sparkle appearing in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
"Really? I can?"
"Of course," Einar replied without hesitation.
Both children eagerly selected a tome and sat on nearby rocks, flipping through the pages like their lives depended on it.
Einar watched in silence, then began to unpack the horses to set up camp.
It wasn't dark yet. But seeing the joy on their faces made the delay worth it.
After all… he felt something too.
A connection with them.
He knew that once they reached Riften, he might have to leave them behind. Find them someplace safe.
And then keep walking alone.
But for now…
They were together. And that was enough.
…
"We've finally arrived," Einar murmured as his eyes rested on the blackened walls of Riften. The hooves of Tornado and Storm echoed gently on the stone path, setting the pace of their arrival.
Sofie stared in awe. Her expression was pure innocence and wonder, eyes sparkling as she took in the city walls, rooftops, and people—like it was the first real city she had ever seen.
Avento, however, furrowed his brow slightly. His gaze carried a trace of disgust, as if he already knew too well the rotten secrets that festered beneath Riften's lively surface.
Einar turned toward the stables. An old man sat slouched in a chair, bored out of his mind, keeping half an eye on the travelers' horses.
On one of the stable's pillars, Einar spotted a set of etched markings—discreet, but clear to those who could read them.
A silent warning:
"Property under protection of the Thieves Guild.
Stealing here comes at a price… and it's not gold."
He glanced at it without expression. Then calmly dismounted, helped Sofie down with care, and then Avento.
After checking his pack was secure, he tossed a septim to the old man.
"Feed them well. They'll be here a couple of days."
The man caught the coin in mid-air and nodded with a knowing smile—he understood not to mess this up.
Without wasting more time, Einar took the two children and walked toward the city gates.
But after just a few steps, a guard stepped in front of them, raising one hand to block the way.
"Hey, hold it. The city's closed," he said, a mocking grin hidden beneath his helmet.
"If you want in, you'll have to pay the toll. If not… find somewhere else to loiter."
Einar stared at him silently for a second. Then sighed, as if this were all too predictable.
"How much?"
"132 septims. Per person," the guard replied, clearly enjoying himself.