A Dream from the Past
"That damn elf bitch… Even if her enchantments are good, that doesn't give her the right to raise the prices," spat a man, his voice filled with evident anger as he stepped out of the shop, followed closely by his companion.
"Don't worry. Her enchantments last a long time; we won't regret it. Besides, even if she's an elf, she's quite the beauty, don't you think?" his companion said with a lecherous grin, recalling the woman they had just seen.
The man clicked his tongue in disdain. "Tsk. Don't spout nonsense. She's that damned lunatic Grimnar's wife. Let's just head to the bar, wait, and then get the hell out of this filthy town. I haven't been here in years, and it still reeks the same."
As they walked through the dirty, neglected streets, his companion nodded toward an area littered with scattered logs. "Hey, isn't that the elf's kid?" he asked with interest.
A short distance away, a silver-haired boy sat quietly reading under the sun, several books stacked around him.
A twisted smile formed on the man's lips as he recognized him. "Well, well…" he murmured, striding toward the boy with arrogance.
"What are you doing, brat? Reading about smithing?" he mocked upon noticing the contents of the book in the child's hands. Without warning, he snatched it away, flipping through the pages with contempt. "Planning to follow in your idiot father's footsteps? With that scrawny body and that girly face, I doubt you can even lift a hammer."
With a careless toss, he flung the book into a nearby puddle, splashing mud.
His companion let out a chuckle, but the man crouched down with a cruel smirk. "You know, with that face and that little body of yours, you'd be better off selling yourself to some noble… You'd probably become his favorite toy."
"Hey, what the hell are you doing? That's Grimnar's kid!" his companion hissed, remembering the earlier warning.
But the man only laughed mockingly. "Hahaha, so what? Everyone in town knows he's a despised bastard. Maybe he'd even thank us if we sold him off somewhere."
Einar stared at them blankly, his face void of emotion. Saying nothing, he walked over to the puddle, picked up the book, and calmly shook it to clean off the mud.
The man frowned. "I'm talking to you, you little shit! Don't turn your back on me!" he roared in fury before delivering a brutal kick to the boy's back.
Einar was sent flying by the impact, hitting the ground with a dull thud. He didn't move immediately, but when he lifted his head, his green eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something dark… something about to break free.
For years, his parents had forbidden him from responding to the townspeople's provocations. He knew that even if he defended himself, the blame would always fall on him. And so, over time, he stopped trying.
But that didn't mean he had forgotten.
"Bah, let's go. Leave him there. He's not worth the trouble," his companion muttered indifferently, giving him a light shove to move on.
The man smirked arrogantly before spitting at Einar's face as he passed by.
Or at least, he tried to.
Einar simply tilted his head slightly, dodging the spit by mere inches, as if the man had bad aim.
Without bothering to respond, he calmly picked up his books and walked away, though not before casting one last look in their direction.
A cold look.
...….
Hours later, the two men returned to Einar's family forge to pick up their enchanted swords. They reeked of alcohol, their steps unsteady, but when they saw the quality of the enchantments, satisfied smiles spread across their faces.
"In the end, she's still good with magic. Too bad she's a damn elf," the man commented as he sheathed his sword.
"Should we find a place to sleep? It's already late," his companion asked, glancing at the darkening sky.
"Nah. Let's head straight to the ruins. We can use them as a base. I don't have a single septim left after paying that bitch," the man scoffed with disdain.
His companion chuckled greedily. "Lucky we found that map, huh? Everyone knows unexplored ruins are full of treasure, especially Dwemer ones."
"Hahaha! Once we leave with gold up to our necks, we can buy houses and women way prettier than that fool's wife," the man said, his voice dripping with greed.
His companion nudged him nervously. "Hey, keep it down… We're close to their house."
Grimnar was infamous for protecting his wife with terrifying ferocity. If provoked, he was capable of tearing a man apart with his bare hands.
The man scoffed. "Tsk. That idiot is just his wife's slave. He let himself get bewitched by that elf."
Grimnar hadn't always been a simple blacksmith. Before that, he had been a feared warrior, a war veteran who had fought alongside Ulfric before his rebellion.
"Grab a torch to light the way," the man ordered as they walked into the darkness.
His companion lit one and glanced around with a frown. "It's a shame that brat isn't around anymore… We could've taken him and sold him off."
The other man laughed. "Yeah, sure…"
But there was something odd in his tone.
Unnoticed by them, two green eyes watched from the shadows of an alley.
Silent.
Cold.
Filled with bloodlust.
When they left the town, they walked for a few minutes before one of them felt something around them.
"Did you feel that?" the companion asked.
"What? It's probably just a wolf or a bear. Don't worry, if it tries to attack us, we'll just kill it," the man said confidently.
"No. I think someone… uff""
Before he could finish, an arrow whizzed through the air and pierced his throat, cutting off his words.
The man's eyes widened in shock as he quickly turned, drawing his sword.
"Who's there?!" he shouted in fury, glancing desperately at his companion, who was rapidly bleeding out, trying to call for help.
Then, two more arrows flew toward him. With quick reflexes, he managed to slash them mid-air with his sword. Just then, another arrow appeared"this one glowing. The man paid it no mind and swung at it as well.
To his horror, the moment his blade made contact, it shattered before his very eyes.
"What the hell…?" he muttered in anger, staring at the broken hilt in his hand.
Three more arrows flew toward him. He rolled on the ground to dodge them, but an arrow appeared out of nowhere and embedded itself in his leg.
"Argh! Damn you…! If you're so brave, show yourself!" he shouted in fury, feeling the pain in his leg rapidly intensify. The arrow seemed to be poisoned.
Soft footsteps began to sound, approaching him and his now-dead companion.
"You… what are you doing, you damn bastard? I'll kill you!" he roared as he saw Einar calmly approaching, staring at him. "What did you do to my sword?"
"You're more worried about your sword than your life… Interesting," Einar murmured coldly. "My father made me promise not to cause trouble in the village so as not to bother my mother… and I keep my promises. We're outside the village now."
"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" the man bellowed, his face twisted with rage.
"I'd let the poison finish the job, but if you keep making noise, you might attract the villagers."
Einar raised his bow.
The sound of the string drawing tight was the last thing the man heard before an arrow lodged in his chest.
He collapsed onto his back with one final, strangled breath.
Einar lowered his bow, emotionless, and turned away, vanishing into the night without even glancing at the corpses.
As if they had never existed.
When he arrived home, he carried a rabbit pierced by an arrow for dinner.
"Oh, you're back. Hurry up and prepare the food. Don't bother your mother," grumbled a muscular, thick-bearded man, sharpening a sword with a serious expression.
"Yes, Father," Einar replied, devoid of any emotion.
Since childhood, he had learned not to show his feelings in front of his parents. Not because he hated them, but he didn't hold much affection for them either.
As he stepped inside, he saw his mother seated, writing runes in a book with the grace of one who shaped magic itself. Her white hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her blue eyes gleamed with concentration. She was a beauty capable of captivating nations… and yet, her gaze never rested on him.
"Einar, the enchantments you used today on those men's weapons were lacking. Tomorrow, you'll spend the entire day enchanting daggers to improve."
Her voice was soft yet firm. She didn't even lift her eyes to look at him.
"Yes, Mother," he replied with the same calm indifference as always.
Without hesitation, he walked toward the kitchen.
He had long since learned that his emotions didn't matter.
...….
Einar awoke with an icy gaze that could freeze the soul of anyone who dared to cross his path. His green eyes, cold and devoid of emotion, scanned his surroundings cautiously until the familiar sight of his room in Hogwarts Castle registered in his mind.
Little by little, the stiffness in his expression faded, and his gaze regained some warmth, leaving behind the darkness that had engulfed him in his dream.
After a few minutes, he got out of bed calmly.
"Tsk. I'd rather have a nightmare full of death and blood than see them again…" he murmured in irritation, though there was still a faint trace of nostalgia in his voice.