Special Part 2 : Blood and Bonds
" I see," said Einar simply.
Then, suddenly, he moved his hand sharply to the side. A dull thud echoed in the air as the guard's jaw twisted to one side. The helmet now bore a clear dent before the man collapsed unconscious, his jaw likely dislocated or broken.
"So… how much was the price? I think your partner didn't get it right," Einar asked, looking at the other guard.
The man began to tremble as his hand moved toward the hilt of his sword. However, he hesitated. What unsettled him most wasn't the blow itself, but the fact that he hadn't even seen the moment his companion was struck. And the dent in the helmet made it clear it hadn't been a light hit.
"We're guards. Attacking us will only make you a wanted man… do you really want to do that?" he said, trying to muster some courage.
"I just blew up a castle because some idiot insulted me over my appearance," Einar replied calmly, as if commenting on the weather. "Do you think I'm afraid of being hunted? And if there are no witnesses… there's no crime, right?" He moved his hand slightly, as if the gesture alone was enough to make his point.
"Ahem… relax, all right. You can pass," the guard conceded, his voice tinged with fear. He wasn't the type who'd give his life for the job; more the kind to take advantage of it while he could.
"It's easier this way, isn't it?" Einar remarked calmly, gesturing for the children to follow him.
"Sir, couldn't the guard send a message after letting you in to have you captured?" Avento asked loudly enough for the guard to hear.
"No. Because if he does, I'll escape… and before leaving this place, I'll cut off his head," Einar replied in the same calm tone, as if they were discussing something mundane. The message, however, was clear enough to make the guard tremble slightly.
Einar smiled to himself. Avento had asked the question precisely to give him the chance to deliver that warning.
Upon entering Riften, the view unfolded quickly: wooden houses everywhere, people walking and chatting in the streets. But in the shadows, Einar felt eyes fixed on him, watching every step he took.
"Truly… the home of rats," he murmured, leading the children straight to an inn to rent a room. He had to go into the Ratway to get information, and it wasn't a place for children.
They stepped into The Bee and Barb. As soon as they crossed the threshold, several heads turned toward them from the tables where patrons were eating and drinking.
Einar ignored the scrutiny and approached the counter, where an Argonian woman was calmly cleaning.
"I want a room. And please, bring some food and hot water," he requested evenly.
The Argonian studied him for a moment, then nodded and led them to a room on the second floor.
It was a small space, with two straw beds covered with cloth, a chest, a table, and a chair.
"You two wait here. I have something to take care of. Don't try to go out. This place doesn't do foolish things like kidnapping people—it's thieves' territory, and we're still unknown here. Eat something. I'll be back soon," Einar said with a serious look.
Both nodded silently.
Einar left and walked toward the spot where he'd heard one of the Ratway's entrances could be found.
…
"These tunnels are really long," Einar commented, standing among a floor littered with bandits groaning in pain.
"Which way to The Ragged Flagon?" he asked one of them.
"Why should I tell you, animal?" the man mocked.
"Then you won't need to talk anymore," Einar replied, gripping the man's jaw.
"Ahhh! Wait, wait, I'll tell you… wait," the man cried, writhing in pain.
Einar released him and waited.
"You have to go through that tunnel," the man said, pointing.
"You know that if you lie to me and send me into a trap… and I survive… I'll come back and kill you in the most brutal and bloody way possible, right?" Einar said, his gaze making clear he meant every word.
"I think I was mistaken… it's that way," the man corrected, pointing in the opposite direction.
Einar followed the new path until he reached a hidden bar. Inside, several people turned to look at him. Many wore the unmistakable clothing of the Thieves Guild.
He walked up to the man behind the counter—a blond Nord with a mustache—who regarded him with calm interest.
"You're far from a safe place, boy. You should leave before you lose your belongings. Some psychos here wouldn't even leave you your clothes," the man warned.
"I ran into several who tried. Thanks to them, I now have enough gold to pay for the information I'm looking for," Einar said, dropping several bags of gold onto the counter. More than one patron immediately recognized who those bags had belonged to.
"Are they dead?" the barkeep asked seriously.
"No. They wanted to rob me, not kill me. If they'd tried to kill me… that would be a different story," Einar answered calmly.
Laughter broke out around the room.
"Hahaha… looks like the kid's got guts," a bearded man commented from a nearby table, raising his mug. "Hey, if you took down who I think you took down, you could try for a place in the guild."
"I wouldn't mind trying, but right now I have missions to finish… and some kids to help," Einar replied.
"Then come talk to me whenever you want to try," the man said with a nod, before going back to his drink.
"So… what information do you want?" the barkeep asked.
Einar placed a piece of paper on the counter with what he sought, but before stepping away he added:
"I also want information on the Honorhall Orphanage… and on Grelod the Kind," he said seriously.
The barkeep took the paper, his expression turning grave, then looked at the gold on the counter.
"You'll need more if you want me to send someone to get information of that level. And it'll take at least two weeks," he warned.
"That's fine. This is just the first payment. When you deliver the information, you'll get the rest. If you can send it to Whiterun, even better… I have business there too," Einar replied calmly.
"All right. And about Grelod… I won't charge you for that. The main job is already big, and getting that info isn't exactly difficult," the man said with a relaxed smile before beginning his explanation.
…
Einar left the Ratway with a slightly annoyed expression and headed to the inn.
Upon arrival, he went straight up to the room. Sofie and Avento were still there, reading magic tomes. Sofie was even practicing—her hands glowed faintly, revealing a natural talent.
"Einar," Sofie exclaimed, standing up with joy.
"Let's go to the orphanage. Let's finish this once and for all," he said calmly, giving her a couple of light taps on the head. Avento immediately stood, his expression serious.
The three left the inn and walked toward the poorest part of Riften. The wooden houses there were crooked, rotting, or partially collapsed.
The orphanage was a large building, but no children were playing outside. That alone said a lot—in a normal city, the absence of laughter and running feet was always a bad sign.
Einar pushed the door open without knocking.
The moment he stepped inside, he heard shouts and sobbing.
He quickened his pace down the hallways until he reached a large room full of makeshift beds—piles of straw covered with ragged cloths. In the center, a woman held a horsewhip over a kneeling child, whose bloodied hands were raised as he cried in pain.
The rest of the children knelt in a line, in the same position.
"Is that all you managed to get? I should sell you as a slave… I'd make more money that way," the woman shouted before raising the whip to strike.
She never got the chance. A brutal kick from Einar's boot sank into her stomach, launching her across the room. Her head slammed hard against the wall before she dropped to the ground, leaving a smear of blood behind.
Einar glared at her with fury. For an instant, the green of his eyes showed a golden point at their center… then it was gone.
He approached, but when he leaned down he realized she was dead. She had died far too easily, and that only made his anger worse.
Then he looked at the children. Maybe he'd acted too impulsively, and he might have frightened them. Yet they stared at him for only a moment before breaking into celebration.
"Yeees! Grelod the Kind is dead!" shouted a redheaded boy with a wide grin. A tall boy, almost Einar's height, nodded in open satisfaction.
Einar blinked, genuinely confused.
The children crowded around him, cheering. He noticed their bloodied hands, so he lifted both of his own and cast a healing spell over them. Their wounds slowly closed, which only made them celebrate more.
"You seem new… but you deserve to be our leader," the redhead said proudly, planting his hands on his hips.
"He's not an orphan, he's an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood," Avento said with pride.
"An assassin?" they all repeated, looking at Einar with interest—especially a blonde girl, nearly his age, who was holding a small four-year-old with a clumsily carved wooden hammer in her arms. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at Einar.
"So… assassins can protect too," she said with emotion.
…
"Listen, Sofie. I have to leave. I left plenty of gold with that young man, Blaise, so he can improve the orphanage. They seem like good kids… it might be a good place for you," Einar told her, pulling her aside to speak privately.
"Will you stay with us?" she asked.
"I have many things to do. An old man tricked me into joining the army, and I'm looking for something. I'll be moving around all the time," he replied, his tone soft.
"But… I want to go with you," Sofie said, tears in her eyes.
"It's dangerous. I can't put you in harm's way. I don't know what's ahead, and you're too young," Einar answered, conflicted, as he pulled out a magic staff. "Here—this is for you, to protect yourself," he said, handing it to her.
"Will you leave me too?" she whispered, staring at the floor.
"I…" Einar paused. He wasn't good with emotions, but he could feel Sofie's attachment to him. And he understood it—he had taken her out of a nightmare and kept her safe. Leaving her now would be… even worse than what had been done to him as a child.
He sighed. "Aaah… I'm going to do something reckless. Listen: I have to go to Whiterun, in the center of Skyrim. It's a safe, warm place. I'm going to buy a house there; it'll be my base of operations. I'll travel all over Skyrim, but I'll always come back. If you want, you can stay there. I won't be there all the time, but I'll return as often as I can. What do you say?"
"Will I get to stay in your house? Will you adopt me?" Sofie asked, eyes full of hope, ignoring everything else.
Einar smiled faintly. "I suppose so."
Sofie beamed and hugged him. Einar, though a little uncomfortable, returned the gesture.
…
Outside Riften, the children stood in a line, watching as Einar prepared to leave.
"Avento, you can sell the horse or use it to teach the others how to ride. It's yours now, do what you want… but don't pull another stunt like traveling alone," Einar said, looking at the boy with the black horse, who listened with a serious expression before nodding.
"Sir… thank you for everything you've done for us," Avento replied.
Einar smiled as he climbed onto the horse with Sofie. The children waved at them cheerfully. The horse began to trot.
…
Einar's horse moved at a steady pace while Sofie hummed happily. He allowed himself a small smile, until he noticed someone following them. He turned his head and, among the trees, spotted a familiar horse trying to stay hidden.
He smirked slightly and rode on. All through the day they traveled, until it was time to rest. He pitched the tent and tended to the horse, while Sofie, a bit tired, rested inside, calmly reading her magic tome.
Einar approached the animal and spoke quietly:
"Watch her for a while. If someone comes near, make noise."
The horse stomped the ground as if it understood.
Einar leapt into the trees and moved a short distance into the forest, where he found Avento with his horse, feeding it and giving it water as he built an improvised bed high among the branches to avoid dangerous animals.
Einar nodded to himself, acknowledging the boy's resourcefulness, though he knew some predators could climb. That night, he would make sure to watch over the area.
They traveled like that for four days, Einar silently protecting Avento from dangerous creatures that got too close. He admired the boy's endurance and courage.
When they reached the gates of Whiterun, Einar left the horse behind and continued on foot with Sofie to the entrance. There, he spoke with the jarl, bought a house from the court wizard, and received the title on the spot. The house was already furnished and clean.
On the way to their new home, he saw Avento wandering the streets as if looking for them. Einar smiled, took hold of him, and brought him along.
He thought it would be better for Sofie to have a brother so she wouldn't feel alone when he was away on his travels. He decided to stay for a couple of weeks so both could settle in.
When the information he had been waiting for finally arrived, he prepared to leave. However, as he reached Whiterun's gates, something stopped him.
A small group of children from the Honorhall Orphanage was being held up by a guard. They all saw him and waved excitedly. Something latched onto his leg—it was little Lucia, looking up at him with radiant joy.
Einar realized these children weren't going back to Riften… and even if they did, they would just escape again. So he spoke with the jarl and founded an orphanage right next to the Companions' headquarters.
He spent some time taking jobs near the city and training the children. Some of the Companions joined in the teaching. A few even adopted children, like Aela and Skjor, who couldn't have children of their own due to a curse in their blood.
In time, Einar returned to more dangerous missions and his name became well known. But now he had a new rule—always come back to his kids, even if it meant failing a mission. He only took contracts that would help make Skyrim a safer place for them and their future.
Every time he returned, he was met with smiles, surrounded as both their teacher and father, watching them grow.
…
"You truly are strong, current Dragonborn… Tell me, what is your name?" asked a man in a rough voice, his body covered in wounds and the charred remains of once-imposing armor. He was known as the First Dragonborn, the original chosen of the Thu'um, standing upon the corrupted ground of Apocrypha—the dark realm where he had been imprisoned for centuries, enslaved by one of the most feared Daedric Princes: Hermaeus Mora.
"Einar," he replied, voice and gaze steady. He held his sword, his armor in tatters, and a burning passion for battle in his chest. He knew he could not lose. His children were waiting for him at home. The fate of the world weighed on his shoulders… but he cared far less for that than for theirs—that was the only thing keeping him on his feet.
He unleashed one final Thu'um that struck Miraak full force, weakening him until he collapsed to his knees. He had won.
Einar stepped forward to claim victory over the only man who had ever given him a real fight, the one who had earned his respect. No… his true rival—the one who had defeated him multiple times and forced him to make deals with half the dark powers in existence just to reach his level.
But before he could speak or act, a dark tentacle pierced through Miraak.
"Miraak has fulfilled his purpose. It is time for him to return to oblivion," declared the unmistakable voice of Hermaeus Mora.
In an unexpected gesture, Miraak removed what he could—his mask, his gear, his sword—and hurled them toward Einar.
"You've earned it," he said.
Then, an immense surge of power exploded from his body. Einar ran to get away, catching sight of the very fabric of reality tearing open for an instant before the blast consumed everything.
It left a bitter taste in his mouth. While the Daedric Prince he had struck a bargain with showered him with praise, Einar ignored him and walked away, staring at Miraak's mask in his hands.
...
In another time, space, and world…
A blond-haired man wearing a hoodie with the word Death written across the back held a harpy, while a short distance away, a boy with a bronze sword stared at him with a mixture of confusion and fear. He lay on the floor of a Greek museum, with messy black hair and sea-green eyes.
The man glanced to the side for a moment and spoke to the boy calmly:
"An interesting weapon."
———
End of special.
Was it good? Of course it was. And if you say it wasn't… Miraak will give you a kick in the backside.
By the way, that last fragment belongs to Percy Jackson: The First Dragonborn (pending), a future novel I'm working on at a relaxed pace. So, stay tuned for it.
Now, let's get back to the final chapters of HPDC. There's very little left… far too little, and that makes me sad.