(AN: One big complaint about "The Dragonborn and the Lioness" was that every challenge Eirik faced was apparently too easy, so obviously he needs to come through even more shit than before, that is one reason I keep saying "he's not had enough yet". Yesterday, while brain-storming ideas for this story, I was going for one idea, but then with that review, I've decided to go with the one I had originally intended, especially since it will return to importance the Dragonborn.)
(Here's something interesting, though. Eirik is the Norwegian variant of the name "Eric", which means "eternal king". I actually thought that I had made that form up, but apparently the Norwegians thought of it first. That is one big hint about who the "bear" might be [no pun intended]. As for the perspective, that was something I loved about my Soul Calibur fics. They each told a separate story, but each story was linked and when they did intersect, one person didn't know everything. They only saw or heard what was pertinent to their story or to their person. I intended to make that happen in this story, though there will be points of divergence where someone else's perspective will be portrayed [though in The Dragon of the South, the story will be told from a completely different perspective, perhaps not even the same story, though set in the same time and place].)
Flight to Riften
How many days Eirik spent in the dungeons of Windhelm he knew not. Though the siege had ended he had no food and was once more growing weary. The others talked little, for they had little to say to each other. Torvar sometimes called out for mead, but his pleas went unanswered. Lydia, however, seemed to be improving and Eirik could see her sometimes tossing gently about in her sleep.
For himself, his days of sleeping and waking were little different. One long period of sorrow and depression followed by the inky blackness of night, with no hope of change. All he knew was that the Dunmer ruling Windhelm, which they now called 'New Gnisis', were planning something against the Nordic populace. How long it would be before they turned their eyes to him he knew not, nor did he care much. All he missed now was Mjoll's company. He would give anything to be with her again and he realized, all too late, that he had thrown himself haphazardly into the arms of death rather than search for her. He begged the Nine Divines, especially Stendarr the god of mercy and Mara the goddess of benevolence, to look down upon him with pity and reunite his love with him once again.
In the outside world, two days had passed since Ulfric Stormcloak's execution: no one in Skyrim mourned him. Clan Silver-Blood in the west lay dead upon the stones of Markarth, while in Whiterun the bodies of Clan Grey-Mane were hung from the gate of the city as a warning to those who would take the side of traitors. Even in Riften, where the Snow-Shod family still lived, they could not mourn Ulfric publicly. Instead they lowered their heads while the people of Riften cried out in cheers of joy, praising the Eight (and some the Nine secretly) that the bloody civil war had finally ended and justice had been served upon the rebels.
Suddenly, Eirik was roused from his slumber. Looking up, he saw Galmar Stone-Fist prodding him from the cell nearby his.
"Wake up!" he whispered. "We're getting out of here!"
Eirik lowered his head and tried to return to sleep.
"Are you a Nord or aren't you?" Galmar retorted.
"What difference does it make?" Eirik asked. He realized suddenly that he was no longer gagged. Looking at Galmar, he saw two pieces of torn cloth lying near the bars of his cell. "I am imprisoned here with a host of enemies beyond and more outside the city. There is no hope of escape. And even if, by some miracle, I did escape, what can I do? Ulfric is dead, the Stormcloak rebellion has ended. The Empire has proven stronger. It is over."
"That's Colovian talk, kinsman," Galmar said angrily. "You're a Nord, and you know better. Don't you know the old Nord proverb? 'Damned is the man who curses the night but will not light a candle.'"
"Why do you care about what I do?" Eirik asked. "You never trusted me, as I recall. And you still don't, for all I know."
"They say you're the Dragonborn," Galmar stated. "I've seen you use the Voice like Ulfric did, and that power should be used to free the people of Skyrim."
"But why me?"
"Because there is none other," Galmar retorted. "Sometimes it is the burden of great men to do that which they would not otherwise do. Ulfric knew this, that's why he refused to bow down to the Empire."
"I am not Ulfric Stormcloak," Eirik said. "I'm no general, I know little of strategy or fighting a war. My only attempt at breaking a siege was to Shout the blockade apart, and look what good that did me! Besides, a man needs an army, doesn't he? If he wants to fight a war? And what army have we?"
"I for one," Galmar said. "And not all our brothers died in the elven attack on the Palace of the Kings. I'd say at least twenty more in this dungeon."
"Twenty-one is an army?" Eirik laughed grimly.
"We have you, my thane!" Lydia suddenly spoke up. Turning around, Eirik saw Lydia, leaning up and speaking to him from her cell across the hall. "I've seen what you can do with my own eyes. You called a dragon down out of the sky with your very Voice! What chance does anyone stand before you?"
"If I have my freedom," Eirik said. "I'm going to Riften to begin my search for my wife. The rebellion has failed."
"Riften!" Galmar exclaimed. "That's brilliant! We'll cut off the Legion's retreat to Cyrodiil and prevent further forces from entering Skyrim! You'll make a general yet, Dragonborn! Come on, now, you know what to do."
Eirik eyed the bars of his cell, then lowered his head.
"Your hands might be tied," Galmar said. "But you are Dragonborn. This cell shouldn't be any trouble for you at all!"
"Listen, my thane," Lydia spoke up. "You want to get out of here and start looking for Mjoll. Well, how else are you going to do that without getting out of here? Your goals and Galmar's align, so why not help him?"
Eirik sighed, then turned his face back towards the door. He remembered the words of Arngeir, "Sky above, Voice within", and tried to concentrate on the bars. He had never blown apart something this strong before and needed to harness all of the strength of his Voice. Suddenly it hit him like a bolt of lightning, though there was no lightning this far below ground. Eirik opened his lips and shouted: "Fus...Ro Dah!"
His voice was even louder and more powerful than he had imagined: the whole dungeon echoed with the magnitude of his Thu'um. Then, with the fury of the North Wind, the bars of his prison cell crumbled like dry twigs before a giant's fist. Eirik rose to his feet and walked out of the dungeon just as one of the elvish jailers came running down the hall to hear what awesome noise had sounded within the dark cells. Eirik saw a ring of keys upon his belt and struck him with both fists in one blow, delivering a kick to the groin just as he was stunned from the first blow.
"Get the keys!" Galmar roared.
Eirik leaned down, picking up the keys with his bound hands and walked over to Galmar's cell, placing them in his hands.
"How did you manage to break free?" he asked.
"I fought in the Great War," Galmar replied. "I escaped the elvish torture chambers on my own. These rope bonds were nothing!"
Once Galmar unlocked his cell, he helped Eirik out of his bonds, then took the chains to the other cells, where Eirik saw the twenty Stormcloaks who had survived the assault being freed. As they were making their way towards him, Galmar unlocked the cells for Torvar, Ria, Thorald and Lydia while Eirik turned to the newcomers. As he was looking into their faces - some of them no older than seventeen and others almost sixty - he saw that they were looking at him with waiting eyes. Then one stood out from among the others and smiled.
"Dragonborn!" Ralof called out. "We heard your Voice when you broke the blockade, but our captors said that you had been slain. I never believed it for a moment. Say the word, Eirik, and we'll follow you wherever you go."
"Kinsmen, no," Eirik said to them. "I'm no leader. I...I was named Harbinger of the Companions but couldn't even keep them together."
"Do you hear that?" Ralof asked. "The Companions are on our side now!"
"No, that can't happen," Eirik said. "Listen to me! I'm not a leader, I never have been. I cannot lead the Companions into any war, it is against their tradition. I...I'm one of you, just a simple woodsman from Falkreath..."
"You're the Dragonborn," Ralof stated. "But even more, you're our Dragonborn, a son of Skyrim. That you happen to come from humble origins means that you know exactly what we're like, how we feel about the Empire taking away our livelihood."
"But..." Eirik interjected.
"Talos was Dragonborn," Ralof said. "And he founded a great empire and became a god. You are Dragonborn, your destiny is no less great. Lead us and we will follow."
Behind him, Eirik heard the cell door opened as the others poured out into the corridor, gazing in wonder at Eirik. He looked at them in surprise, but they did not speak nor tell him why they looked upon him with such awe. Lydia then knelt down and the others slowly took knee around him as well.
"I am not worthy of worship," Eirik said.
"Save us, Dragonborn!" a young Nord man said.
"We're with you to the end, my thane," Lydia added.
Eirik gazed speechless at them for a moment, but then looked up at the doorway leading to the Bloodworks. Nearby, he saw a collection of weapons which had been confiscated from them. He then turned to those kneeling before him, sighed wearily and spoke.
"Rise," he said. "Stand on your feet, kinsmen. No Nord knee shall be bowed to any save the High King and the gods."
"What are your orders?" Ralof asked.
"We're leaving Windhelm," Eirik said. "We're going south to Riften. As Galmar has stated, it will cut off supplies and troops from Cyrodiil."
"But the city is still surrounded," a Nord woman stated. "How will we get through the blockade?"
"Leave that to me."
Those behind him began scrambling for weapons when suddenly someone entered into the Bloodworks. More than a few weapons were turned towards the newcomer, as well as Eirik, Ria, Torvar, Thorald and Lydia. To their relief, they saw that it was only the blacksmith's apprentice walking down into the Bloodworks.
"What are you doing here?" Ria asked.
"I came looking for him," Hermir said, gesturing to Eirik.
"Why for me?" Eirik asked.
"Oengul told me that you were with the Stormcloaks," she said.
"The Stormcloaks are finished," Eirik said grimly. "The Dunmer made sure of that when they killed Ulfric."
"The White take them!" Hermir growled. "Ulfric was the only one who could have united Skyrim and saved her from the folly of the Empire." She walked towards Eirik, almost kneeling down in his presence. "Take me with you."
"What?" Eirik asked.
"There's nothing for me here now," she said. "Let me fight at your side and make weapons and armor for you and for these others." She nodded to those standing behind Eirik. "Lead me and I will follow you as I would have followed Ulfric."
Eirik did not answer. Though they were doubtless following him to avenge the death of Ulfric and save Skyrim from the Empire, or whatever new goal they had in mind, Eirik's only thoughts were of returning to Riften. He would find Mjoll and make amends for his actions and they would never be apart. Slowly his thoughts about the rebellion were fleeing from his mind, but here he was, once again, being thrust into the place of leadership.
Suddenly they heard shouting and Hermir fled to the side wall of the Bloodworks away from the entrance. Eirik gestured to the others that they do likewise, and they did. Three Dunmer appeared, walking into the Bloodworks to see who had made the loud noise they had heard earlier.
"For Ulfric and for Skyrim!" Galmar shouted.
Galmar and several warriors leaped out from the walls and tackled the Dunmer to the ground. Several of them gathered weapons from the Bloodworks and cut down the Dunmer without so much as a second thought. Eirik was not looking at them, though, for his eyes were back on the stairway leading up to the main hall of the Palace of the Kings.
"They'd have heard that," Eirik said. "We need to get out of here now!"
The rebels ran up the stairs first, with Eirik and the others bringing up the lead. As Eirik turned to the left, he saw Galmar and the others pushing the doors to the main hall open with all their might. Galmar shouted for them to run outside quickly, and Eirik helped Lydia out of the hall first. Afterwards came Ria, Torvar and Thorald, carrying weapons. As Thorald passed by, he tossed something to Eirik, who took it in hand, hoping that it was a weapon: it was a wooden staff.
"Really?" Eirik asked. "That's the best you can give me?"
"Shut up!" Galmar shouted. "Now is not the time to be arguing like children!"
One by one the others started running out of the hall as the Dunmer guards realized they were escaping. Now they were running through the streets of Windhelm, trying to reach the gates as they were suddenly being closed before them. Eirik almost tripped over a body lying in the street, then noticed that there were more bodies lying in the streets of the Stone Quarter. But he did not have much time to ponder this when someone shouted at him from the gates.
"Quickly!"
Eirik hobbled across the body-strewn streets towards the gates. There he saw Galmar and the Stormcloak rebels holding the gates open while several were running up to the gatehouse to close the gates on them. Suddenly Eirik heard shouts and arrows skittering on the pavement. Before he could move, he was tackled to the ground and he heard a loud cry from somewhere near at hand. He suddenly noticed Hermir Strong-Heart lying on top of him: there was an arrow sticking out of her back. From this he gathered that she had leaped upon him to protect him from the arrows. It was the first time someone had saved him since Mjoll and Lydia.
"Hurry!" Ria shouted.
Turning around, Eirik saw that the gates were slowly closing regardless of the rebels holding the gates open. Eirik picked up Hermir and hobbled towards the gates as fast as he could. Once he passed through, the gates were sealed, leaving them to cross to the second arch of the bridge of Windhelm before archers on the walls behind them shot them down. They then ran as fast as they could to the first arch, seeing before them the lines of the Imperial Legion before them.
"What now?" Galmar asked.
"Do what you did before," Torvar said to Eirik. "Shout them apart!"
"I don't have the momentum I had before to do that," Eirik said. "But it might."
"Just do what you need to do," Galmar stated.
Eirik nodded, remembering how he had escaped the Falmer-infested path to the Inner Sanctum of Auri-El's Chantry in the Forgotten Vale. But he also remembered that Durnehviir was not able to stay long in the world, nor would the spirits of the heroes of Sovngarde. He needed something powerful to break the Imperial lines, something living that could overwhelm the Legion and give them a chance to escape. Then it dawned on him.
"O...Dah Viing!" Eirik shouted.
Once the booming echo of his Thu'um, like the crash of thunder, died about the air, Eirik made his way slowly towards the front-lines of the Imperials. He could see their gladius swords being aimed at him, their spears leveled towards him, and arrows and cross-bows being loaded, bent and aimed towards him. Would the dragon come before they were cut down by the Imperials?
"Fus...Ro Dah!" a loud voice boomed from above.
Suddenly a great scarlet dragon dove down out of the clouds above and sent the front-lines of the Legion scattering away with its voice. Mighty may have been the Thu'um of Eirik the Dragonborn, like unto that of Tiber Septim and Ulfric Stormcloak, but the voice of a dragon was much louder and stronger still. In the confusion at the front-lines, Eirik charged towards the broken lines, eager to be free once again. The opposition stood no chance. Chaos was brought to their ranks with the dragon attack. Some tried to stand their ground but were quickly cut down by Galmar and the Stormcloaks. Others threw down their weapons at the sight of a dragon and fled as fast as their legs could carry them. Even some saw Eirik approaching, armed with only a staff, a host of men behind him and a dragon overhead, and ran in fright or let their weapons fall from their hands in terror.
"The Bear!" some cried in fear. "The Bear of Eastmarch lives again!"
Eirik did not listen to their words, for he had as his goal the woods and valleys of Eastmarch. From there he would speed to the Rift, if only to search for Mjoll. Damn them and their 'Bear of Eastmarch'. It meant nothing to him, merely words spoken by men in terror. Above the Snow Hunter rained down fire and death upon the Imperial Legion while Eirik and the Stormcloak remnants fled from the siege of Windhelm.
At last they reached a knoll somewhere far away from the rear of the Imperial lines in the snows of Eastmarch, where they could look down upon Windhelm and see what was taking place. The great red dragon flew overhead, breathing fire down upon the lines while Eirik looked on silently. Nearby where Ria and Galmar, who also looked down upon the wrath of the dragon.
"Call it off," Ria said to Eirik.
"No, let them all burn," Galmar said.
"You have to call it off!" Ria retorted, turning to Eirik. "It's not right!"
"What ain't right about it?" Galmar asked.
"These are Nords down there," Ria said sorrowfully. "Your kinsmen! And they're dying because of you!" She turned to Eirik.
"They'd rather stand with their dying empire," Galmar stated. "They've betrayed Skyrim. Let them die."
"You're the Harbinger of the Companions!" Ria added. "You're not supposed to fight for any side in any war!"
Eirik shouted the dragon's name once again, and the Snow Hunter broke off from the slaughter of the Imperial Legion. The giant dragon suddenly came to rest on a hill nearby, causing Eirik to curse underneath his breath. Now the Empire would be able to guess that someone had summoned the Dragon, that he had been the one who broke through their lines and that he was fleeing this way.
"Hail, thuri," said Odahviing.
"Go on about your business," Eirik said to the dragon. Then he pointed west. "But be sure to fly that way. If they choose to follow you, that should lead them off my scent."
"Geh, Dovahkiin." The great crimson dragon spread his wings and took off into the sky, turning towards the sky that was still untouched by the sun's daily path across the sky.
"Now, we go to Riften?" Galmar asked.
"Aye," Eirik said, looking southward towards the long expanse of snow-clad trees. "We go to Riften."
"This is good," Galmar said, then gave the orders to the others. Eirik, meanwhile, turned to Ria.
"There were other ways," she said. "Other methods of getting through the Imperial lines without burning them alive."
"Yes, there may have been," Eirik said. "I'm sorry. I did not behave honorably."
Ria said nothing as she walked back to Torvar. Shortly they made their slow progress southward, towards the trees Eirik had noticed. As they were walking, Eirik made his way to where Galmar and the others were and spoke to the old warrior while they made their way southward.
"What do you know about what they were saying back there?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" Galmar returned.
"They called me 'the Bear of Eastmarch,'" said Eirik. "I'm not from Eastmarch, and I was born under the sign of the Warrior, not the Bear."
"The Bear of Eastmarch was a title given to Vegard Stormcloak, the former Jarl of Windhelm," Galmar began. "He had protected his realm from an invasion by the last of the Glacier tribes in the Pale, and was granted that title. They said he protected the people like a she-bear protecting her cubs. Although, the origins of that title stretch back to the first King of Windhelm who ruled after Ysgramor."
"Stormcloak," Eirik sighed, feeling as though he had heard the name more than enough. "Was he a relative of Ulfric's?"
"He was his father," Galmar replied.
Eirik knew not how to respond to this and so continued on his way back to the front of the group in silence. What Ria had said about his actions still stung: was this his legacy? To continue the bloodshed of the Stormcloak rebellion? Could he not be free to protect his loved one as best he could?
(AN: Hey there, i hope some of you are still with me. Lack of consistent internet access means that updating this will be hell. Some of the story is being brought together, especially Eirik's own personal trials. I realized that, even in the game world, the time they give is too short to form a valid relationship. Even in real life, three months [which i had in the game] feels pretty rushed. While some who saw all the trials they went through in The Dragonborn and the Lioness will doubtless say that I'm putting them through too much, I feel that they should have a rocky relationship because they only got married after three months. They might have more troubles in their future...once they are reunited, that is.)
(Aside from some controversy about boring characters in Doctor Who which turned the whole of the internet against me, not much to say. What do you all think about Paarthurnax? Can he be trusted or is he just another obstacle to be defeated? Also, does anyone remember if I gave a specific birthday for Eirik? I have it down to year, roughly 4E 171, but I forgot if I had a month and a day. I'm pretty sure that it was after Last Seed because of what I wrote in the timeline, but I forgot. Anyone else know?)
(Remember to review, because I like the feedback, especially about characters. I want to expand a bit more of Thorald and Hermir, but also Lydia and, possibly Aela. The main ones will be Eirik and...well, you know. Also we have a Bloodmoon in real life, so stay safe and if you see any werewolves, don't fight them!)