Chapter Text
The boy walked through the forest, shoes crunching the fallen leaves as he hurried along. The pack on his back weighed heavy, his few belongings wrapped in it. Until a week before, the child had had a quiet life, living peacefully with his parents in their small cabin. That was a good life, his father hunted and kept their bellies full and his mother taught him his histories and how to read. It was all over in a matter of minutes, the Thalmor setting his home aflame with his parents trapped inside, begging him to run for his life. He’d run to Falkreath, tears stinging in his eyes as his life went up in flames. The innkeep took him in, having been good friends with his father. Now it was time for them to part ways, his remaining family in Bruma.
“Keep yer head up, boy. You might trip an’ hurt yourself if not.” The innkeep patted his shoulder, beckoning him to follow.
The boy grumbled a response, adjusting his pack as he followed the man. The innkeep was friends with his father, buying meat from his hunts and exchanging them for other goods. They’d both fought in the Great War, in separate legions, but were shield-brothers nonetheless. After it ended, they set their sights on living quietly, never picking up a sword again if they could help it. Yet still, the boy’s father was killed, the peaceful life he’d built for his wife and child stolen from him. The innkeep figured the least he could do was make sure his friend’s son was safe.
The two walked along until they encountered the border marker between Cyrodiil and Skyrim. The post seemed to be loosely guarded, no more than 3 guards visible. They stopped as one guard approached them.
“Halt. This is the border into Cyrodiil. What business do you have here?”
The innkeep shifted on his feet. “Just passing through. I’m trying tah bring my nephew here to his family in Bruma. That’s it.”
The guard grumbled, taking a quick look at the both of them. “Right. Don’t look like you’ve got any weapons. Go ahead through the gates.”
The innkeep nodded and beckoned the boy to follow again. The land began to incline steeply as they headed into the Jerall Mountains. He pulled out a cloak from his pack and handed it to the boy. “Put this on. It’s spring, but the weather is colder in mountains like these.”
The two were mostly silent as they trudged along the path, the air becoming more frigid as they steadily climbed. The air whipped around them as they climbed higher, whistling as they struggled against the wind. The innkeep had to grab the boy several times to keep him from falling. The sun was beginning to set when the walls of Bruma came into view, coaxing a sigh of relief from the innkeep. “Whew, there it is. We’ll be inside and warm soon, kid.” The boy nodded again, his face red from the cold.
The massive gates to the city were open as they approached, the cold wind seeping through the wood and stone. They entered unimpeded, walking briskly towards their location. The boy had only visited his extended family once, when he was barely 4 years old. He could only hope they hadn’t moved to another city.
“They have an alchemy shop. The building is probably in the Market district,” the boy muttered, the innkeep nodding in response. They only walked for a few minutes before coming across a sign picturing a mortar and pestle, a tell-tale sign of an alchemist or herbalist. The boy took a deep breath as the innkeep knocked on the door. A few moments had passed when the door sprung open, a man with scars and a white beard awaiting. He took a good look at them before speaking, squinting particularly hard at the child.
“Ava! Your nephew’s out here!” He yelled into the house, beckoning for his wife before turning back to the two. “Well this is an unexpected visit. Come in, it’s cold out.”
The innkeep and the boy shuffled in, sighing at the warmth offered by the hearth. The boy’s aunt came rushing down the stairs, breathless as she ran to him.
“Brynjar! By the nine, what are you doing here? And with a stranger no less!” She gave the innkeep a look, frowning at his presence.
The innkeep stretched his hand out. “Greetings. I go by Vorri, I was friends with the lad’s father. He asked that I bring him here.”
Ava kept frowning. “My sister’s husband, I remember. But why? Has something happened?”
“Aye, a lot recently,” Vorri looked back at the boy, feeling bad for him. “It’s been a long journey. Maybe the boy can have something to eat first?”
Ava nodded, her face falling, knowing what news she was about to receive was grave. “Right. Larus, take Brynjar upstairs please. Make him a plate and have a bed ready for him.”
Her husband nodded, grabbing Brynjar by his shoulder to lead him up the stairs. The boy hesitated to leave Vorri, but followed anyway, leaving Vorri and Ava in the shop alone.
Vorri sighed when he disappeared up the stairs, his shoulders sagging as he faced the woman. “It was the Thalmor. Word must’ve gotten out that Baldr was a Talos worshipper. They came and burnt their homestead to the ground. The boy was the only survivor.”