Erik went back to Rorikstead that day, Brynden insisting on riding with him. He'd cited his reasons as wanting to catch up with some friends in Solitude anyways. They separated outside of Frostfruit Inn, Brynden pulling Erik into a tight hug before mounting his black stallion once more. As Erik watched him ride off, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. He couldn't meet his father's questioning gaze when he finally turned away from Brynden's retreating form on the horizon.
One week later, Erik found himself setting out on his silver mare. He was bound for Falkreath once more. Though his head claimed it was for the sake of adventure, his heart said differently.
---
It was three months later when Brynden caught up with Erik once more, by the Thalmor Embassy of all places.
Brynden was travelling to Solitude with Meeko, a stray dog he picked up near an abandoned shack after the untimely death of his old owner. That was something he realized he did a lot, picking up strays. Strays like Meeko and Etienne Rarnis and Erik himself.
Though he could not admit it aloud, Brynden missed Erik more than he missed Neverwhere Hall sometimes. The difference wasn't that he could actually find Neverwhere Hall instead of Erik. The difference was that the Thalmor couldn't.
The note reached him by a trembling courier, just outside of the Solitude Stables. Five minutes after he had read the note, Brynden had already composed his own note to be sent to Falkreath, and then was astride Onyx once more with Meeko charging beside him. The Thalmor had made their last insult against the Nothing's Men. Brynden was prepared to raise all of Oblivion if it meant getting Erik away from that twisted bitch of an elf.
---
Five riders and a scrappy dog approached the Thalmor Embassy at midday. It was like the start of a bad joke, except it wasn't the start and no one was laughing. A rarity for the Nothing's Men, who could find a laugh in almost any situation. Brynden usually laughed the loudest of them all. His tight-lipped silence only added to grimness of the situation.
"Wait for our signal." Instructed Atla to her chosen riders as she and her son dismounted. "The smoother this goes off for us, the better. This is about rescuing Erik first, and sending our message second."
With that the six parted, three remaining under the cover of the trees and three walking forward in the riskiest heist they had planned in their lives.
---
Erik felt cold despite the dungeon's stifling heat. His sides ached from relentless dry heaving. His sword and armor sat just outside of his cell, so temptingly close and yet always out of reach. His memory was still fuzzy and his disorientation had not yet left him. How long had it been since the Thalmor Justiciars had seized him outside of Riften? A few days? A week? Time seemed to stand still within the tight walls of the cell.
A gentle scratch of footsteps caused the mercenary to shudder. The guard who walked by him didn't give a second glance, ignoring the shaking prisoner in his shackles. He had fought at first, they all fought at first. They bared their teeth and snarled like wolves, until Elenwen came and made them tuck their tail and whimper like whelps. Erik was not different than any other the others. Elenwen herself had made it clear.
---
Brynden might have actually had some respect for Elenwen had she not been so uppity and self-righteous. The woman had the sort of cunning that could topple nations to build new empires. Elenwen had a beauty to her, but it was a beauty like a well-forged dagger or a particularly strong dragon. One not to be messed with lest you were suddenly met with the pointy end.
And as she looked at him with her slick smile, his soul burned with dragon fire.
"You're a talented man, Brynden Stark. I hate to kill you." She said smoothly.
"You're a talented mer, Elenwen. I hate to die." He replied.
Nothing Gold Can Stay (Part 5/?)
---
Erik went back to Rorikstead that day, Brynden insisting on riding with him. He'd cited his reasons as wanting to catch up with some friends in Solitude anyways. They separated outside of Frostfruit Inn, Brynden pulling Erik into a tight hug before mounting his black stallion once more. As Erik watched him ride off, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. He couldn't meet his father's questioning gaze when he finally turned away from Brynden's retreating form on the horizon.
One week later, Erik found himself setting out on his silver mare. He was bound for Falkreath once more. Though his head claimed it was for the sake of adventure, his heart said differently.
---
It was three months later when Brynden caught up with Erik once more, by the Thalmor Embassy of all places.
Brynden was travelling to Solitude with Meeko, a stray dog he picked up near an abandoned shack after the untimely death of his old owner. That was something he realized he did a lot, picking up strays. Strays like Meeko and Etienne Rarnis and Erik himself.
Though he could not admit it aloud, Brynden missed Erik more than he missed Neverwhere Hall sometimes. The difference wasn't that he could actually find Neverwhere Hall instead of Erik. The difference was that the Thalmor couldn't.
The note reached him by a trembling courier, just outside of the Solitude Stables. Five minutes after he had read the note, Brynden had already composed his own note to be sent to Falkreath, and then was astride Onyx once more with Meeko charging beside him. The Thalmor had made their last insult against the Nothing's Men. Brynden was prepared to raise all of Oblivion if it meant getting Erik away from that twisted bitch of an elf.
---
Five riders and a scrappy dog approached the Thalmor Embassy at midday. It was like the start of a bad joke, except it wasn't the start and no one was laughing. A rarity for the Nothing's Men, who could find a laugh in almost any situation. Brynden usually laughed the loudest of them all. His tight-lipped silence only added to grimness of the situation.
"Wait for our signal." Instructed Atla to her chosen riders as she and her son dismounted. "The smoother this goes off for us, the better. This is about rescuing Erik first, and sending our message second."
With that the six parted, three remaining under the cover of the trees and three walking forward in the riskiest heist they had planned in their lives.
---
Erik felt cold despite the dungeon's stifling heat. His sides ached from relentless dry heaving. His sword and armor sat just outside of his cell, so temptingly close and yet always out of reach. His memory was still fuzzy and his disorientation had not yet left him. How long had it been since the Thalmor Justiciars had seized him outside of Riften? A few days? A week? Time seemed to stand still within the tight walls of the cell.
A gentle scratch of footsteps caused the mercenary to shudder. The guard who walked by him didn't give a second glance, ignoring the shaking prisoner in his shackles. He had fought at first, they all fought at first. They bared their teeth and snarled like wolves, until Elenwen came and made them tuck their tail and whimper like whelps. Erik was not different than any other the others. Elenwen herself had made it clear.
---
Brynden might have actually had some respect for Elenwen had she not been so uppity and self-righteous. The woman had the sort of cunning that could topple nations to build new empires. Elenwen had a beauty to her, but it was a beauty like a well-forged dagger or a particularly strong dragon. One not to be messed with lest you were suddenly met with the pointy end.
And as she looked at him with her slick smile, his soul burned with dragon fire.
"You're a talented man, Brynden Stark. I hate to kill you." She said smoothly.
"You're a talented mer, Elenwen. I hate to die." He replied.