IMPORTANT!!!! IMPORTANT!!!!!
[AUTHOR'S NOTE ABOUT TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story will, unfortunately, contain scenes and/or mentions of child abuse (physical, mental, neglect). It's not gruesome or particularly excessive in a writing sense, but any at all is excessive in a triggering concept. This is a prequel, and technically the very beginning of Aphid and Kor's story together. This story, and its contents, are unfortunately "necessary", to avoid cramming too little info into too much of the other stories, plus this story contains characters that are relevant later. I have had this story nearly all the way completed for almost two years now, but have not finished the final chapters yet, because…well, abuse isn't something I'm comfortable writing and writing this story is draining on me. Aphid from my story "Let No Man, nor Beasts, nor Gods" probably thinks I'm lying lolol, but it's true. This story has been difficult to want to complete, but I think I will do it. I'm cleaning up what I have and will be posting that before completing the end.]
Chapter One: All He's Ever Known
The rickety carriage thumped its creaky, uneven wheels along the equally uneven patches of cobble that sufficed as a road.
Eight year old Kor sat alone in the passenger bay, coiled up in a corner nearest the front where the driver sat at his duty.
Kor's typically bright blond hair was dull and unkempt in its ponytail, his clothes were worn and tattered, and his usually bright and expressive blue eyes were cast downward, hidden behind his bangs, their usual sparkle and enthusiasm muted.
To say the last few days for him have been bad...was a rather grievous understatement.
In one single night he lost everything.
Everything but the clothes he wore.
All else…
Laid cold within smoldering embers.
The driver of the carriage seemed a friendly enough person, so it comforted the boy in a small sort of way to sit nearest to him.
Truth be told, Kor didn't really want to see or sit near anybody but his Papa, but his father was gone, and the boy certainly didn't want to sit on the other end of the wagon.
Even where he sat now, he felt almost utterly isolated from any source of a warm body, despite the driver being but just a piece of wood between them.
The driver must have thought the boy had been seeking literal warmth and had earlier offered to Kor a wool throw he kept in his lap.
When Kor declined, the driver didn't seem entirely convinced, thinking the downtrodden lad was just being sullen, so the man left it draped over the wood between them in case the chill snipped through the kid's mood.
Kor wasn't cold, though, no. He almost never was, but he had never passed on his father's warm arms or bundling deeply into the blanket his Papa would cheekily toss on him every morning.
Every time Kor even glanced the cloth draped behind the driver, the memories practically slapped him in the face.
Waking to the sound of his father's bear-like growl of a yawn during his morning stretch, and then that whip of air that was always followed by the soft thump of the blanket landing upon him…
Kor wanted that blanket. He so very badly wanted that blanket now and it was taking all he had not to toss the kind driver's offer over the side rail and under the raggedy wheels of the wagon.
He knew the driver meant no harm, of course, but Kor was still struggling to process never seeing his father's blanket again.
Never seeing his father again.
The bandits burned…everything.
Their town was ravaged to the ground.
Hardly a handful survived and Kor only managed to do so by the skin of his teeth.
His gentle soul of a father had found the fury of their ancestor, an ancestor of very long ago that had sealed a mysterious ancient spirit within their blood, and that blood in Kolgrim crushed its way through ribs and skulls to get them out, all while Kor clung to his father's neck.
But that spirit never fully awakened in Kolgrim.
When the numbers grew too great in their path…and a blade finally found its path through the father's ribs, nearly finding the son as well, the father tossed the boy as hard and far as his powerful arms would allow.
And it had been with aim, as another fleeing townsman intently caught Kor and ran, not allowing the boy to break free.
Not allowing him to get back to his Papa as the deadly crowd circled the man like ravenous wolves.
Kor now only wanted to recall that hastened moment just before his father had tossed him, when his Papa held their foreheads together for that last time, told his "baby bear, his little cub" how dearly he loved him, and kissed those two little moles on his cheekbone—the remnants of the boy's mother.
But the ferocious beastly death howl of his father's last stand kept roaring above it all.
Kor coiled up further in the corner of that wagon and slumped into the wool draped near him.
He closed his teary eyes and tried as hard as he could to pretend he sat comfortably curled on his father's lap, wrapped in the safety of his arms as the cricking and swaying of their rocking chair lulled him to sleep.
But the cricking of the wagon wheels practically screeched in his ears, constantly remindering him that he was riding further and further away from that comfortable place. From the only home he had ever known. The home he was never going to see again.
"Have you ever been to Riften?" the carriage driver suddenly broke the silence that had been between them.
Kor jolted, startled out of his thoughts.
He looked up at the driver who looked back at him.
"I'm sorry," the driver said, realizing he startled the lad, "Had you nodded off? Did I spook you awake, young man? …You go on and rest your head. I'll be quiet as a cloud…Oh, but not like a storm cloud, I mean—"
Kor shook his head.
"I'm awake…," the boy replied and dropped his gaze.
It was moment before he replied to the man's previous question, his voice tired and slow, "...No. Papa made…a shipment there once, but he wouldn't let me go with him. Made me stay with our neighbor until he… returned home…Is it a bad place?"
An older Kor would have been able to read the answer that flashed across carriage driver's face at that question, but little Kor hadn't quite yet got the grasp on deciphering all these telltale expressions.
The driver quickly blinked the answer off his eyes and replaced it with a softer, sympathetic look.
"I'm sorry about your Papa, young man," he said, avoiding the question and trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, "I bet he was a strong man, wasn't he?"
Kor initially smiled a small grin and began to say something, most likely a prideful comment about how big and brawny his Papa was, but his brow quickly furrowed instead. Tears rimmed his eyes as his mind washed over with the image of his seemingly indestructibly built father being torn through by the blades of those ravenous wolves.
The carriage driver quickly began fumbling in the burlap sack at his side, trying to fast find another path to pull this conversation to. Seems his carriage driving experience help none in steering conversation well.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, pulling a wrapped skewer of a honey nut treat out of the sack and inwardly praying it wasn't a treat the boy and his father fondly shared--he didn't want to keep emotionally draining the poor lad.
He was worried he was doing just that, and that the floodgate was about to burst, when Kor simply stared at it, his expression unchanging aside from his air quickening.
But then the boy took a steady breath, exhaled, and gently accepted the treat.
"...Thank you," Kor said quietly, but politely.
However, he held it limp in his hand and looked ahead with a miles away stare.
The carriage driver wanted to encourage him to eat, but he decided maybe leaving the boy be for the moment would be better.
The driver had four children of his own, but had no idea how to console even one grieving child. His family had been, probably unfairly, lucky in this world. He was used to comforting scraped elbows and hurt feelings, not tragedies--despite how dramatic children can be about the scraped elbows.
"Have you been to Riften?" Kor suddenly asked that same question that was asked of him earlier, giving the driver a startle this time.
The carriage driver cleared his throat.
"Yes, I have…," the man answered after a brief hesitation. He somewhat regretted bringing the city in question up, even though it was their destination, "I've driven there a handful and half of times now, but I have only been beyond the stables, been inside the city, twice."
He was being honest. He really has only set foot twice inside the gates, but all the rumors he's heard and the little he's seen for himself...He realized he wasn't quite sure what to tell the kid of the place.
He certainly didn't know a thing about Honorhall, the orphanage, but the driver did think the city must have its bright spots and surely that must be one of them.
"It's a sight, that's for sure," the driver explained, "A big water channel cuts around the heart, and the most bustling part of the city sits on an upper deck above this channel—I'm not sure what all lies on the dock level, but I imagine kids probably love running up and down them decks. Oh hey! You're from, what was that lake town, Sognsvann Shore, right? Bet you love to fish, huh?...I bet Riften has good fishin'. A fishery, too, so who knows? Maybe you'll be working there when you're a wee bit older."
Kor didn't say anything. He loved fishing, yes, but he also had a feeling that, even if he heard the city was something out of his wildest fantastical imaginings, it wouldn't make him want anything but home. He just wanted to be home with his Papa.
The driver continued on with what he knew of within the city himself.
"There's a Temple of Mara there, it's a peaceful chapel. I've actually been in it."
"Mara?" Kor repeated, "…My Papa praised Mara a lot."
"Did he?" the driver casually responded, "…Well, perhaps you may seek him in that chapel, in her grace. Perhaps this...may be a sign he is guiding you to Riften, hm?"
Kor didn't say anything again, but he did look just ever so slightly eased.
"There's a meadery, a famous meadery, there," the driver spoke on, "Black-Briar. Have you had a sip of the stuff? Heard of it?"
"Uh-uh, I don't think so," Kor shook his head no, "He made our own…and had …hon…honey brew?"
"Honningbrew?" the driver corrected and gave a light joke, "Uh oh, you best not mention that stuff once we get to Riften."
He glanced at the boy to see a questioning, and a slightly worried, look on his face.
"I'm kidding, young man," he said, "…Though competitors do give ya quite an ear full about how much better their stuff is, so if you don't want to hear it. Don't mention it, right?"
Kor reflexively nodded and remained quiet, while the driver seemed to be thinking of what he could mention next, but Kor spoke first.
"Honorhall?" he said, asking of the orphanage.
"I don't know much about it," the driver responded, "but I hear it's run by an elderly woman the folks call Grelod the Kind…"
The driver gave a small pause, having heard a couple rumors outside of Riften about her, but he never had reason to question it when inside Riften before.
He hoped the rumors were just tall tales derived from those parental threats of sending misbehaving kids to scary orphanages.
The woman was fit with the title of "the Kind", so those rumors had to just be playing off the irony, right?
"You look like a sweet kid," the driver said, "I'm sure with that freckly face and minding your manners, you'll have no trouble winning over that Grelod and finding a…"
He stopped himself from saying "finding a new family" as he immediately realized the sensitivity there.
He may not have experience in such tragedies, but he damn sure knew he wouldn't want to hear something like that, fresh from burying an irreplaceable loved one.
Instead, he quickly changed it to: "Finding a friend."
"But what if I'm the only kid there?" Kor asked.
"It's an unfortunate fortune that you surely won't be," the driver assured, knowing even with being personally spared such tragedies himself, in this world, orphans may likely outweigh those still with parents.
He looked at the boy with what paternal tenderness he had experience with and assured him again.
"You won't be alone," he said softly.
That fatherly tone sank into Kor, as it seemed to pull every memory, all at once, of his Papa's loving voice.
Even though the driver had intended not to provoke this, Kor buckled in his grief and broke into a sob.
The driver reached over the wood between them and kept his hand on the boy's back as the boy grieved.
"I'm sorry, young man," he patted and consoled, "I truly am…Would you like to sit up here the rest of the way?"
Kor was too wracked with his sobs to answer, or even acknowledge an answer with a nod or shake of his head, but when the driver fully reached over and began lifting him up, the boy didn't resist, so kindly man went ahead and sat him up front next to him.
He kept his arm around the boy and allowed the kid to lean into him to let out his cries, but after couple minutes, when Kor collected himself a bit, the boy scooted away and withdrew himself on the other end of the bench.
The driver didn't take any offense by it. He pieced together that the boy's father must have been an affectionate fellow, and so, the grieving child was struggling right now to accept any gentle arms that weren't his father's.
They sat quietly for a while, but the boy did eventually break the silence again with a muted question.
"Are we almost there?" he asked of the remaining length of travel.
"Not quite," the driver answered, "But we should be there before late afternoon."
The man reached over that bit of wood and into the passenger bay of the carriage to retrieve the treat that Kor had dropped earlier.
"Here now," the man returned it to the boy, "You go on and eat you something, young man. And rest a bit. I'll let you know when we're close."
Kor accepted the treat again, with a light nod and a quiet thank you, but it was a silent few minutes before he finally unwrapped it and took a bite.
Slowly and gloomily he ate, idly sliding one of the rolled oat balls up and down the skewer.
The driver just knew the poor kid was thinking about the last treat his father had given him…
But Kor was at least holding himself together about it this time—or perhaps he was too tired and too drained of his tears to break down again.
The boy picked through most of the treat, and finally, seemed to pep up a little. He asked bout the two horses drawing the wagon. What breed are they? Their names? How old are they? Even if they knew how to spit.
Kor even scooted back towards the driver again as they talked, and he let out a little giggle when the driver told him the horses were notorious gas passers.
Kor giggled more when one of the horses' guts indeed gave a warning groan, and the driver pretended to shield the two of them from an impending waft.
Seeing Kor's quick flip to liveliness put the driver at ease. He was certain that the boy will alright with time, and with that adorable freckly face and bunny tooth grin, the kid was certain to win over the heart of that orphanage and soon a family. Right?
The man had a passing thought that, if his humble cottage wasn't already brimming wall to wall with his own gaggle of children, he'd certainly want take this little guy home in a heartbeat.
Kor began to talk a little bit about the horses he liked to feed in his hometown, and of a shiny coated palomino that "sparkled like a sunny lake" and was a favorite of his father's to rent for travel.
The driver could see the kid's spirit starting to wane again, though, at the recollection of things gone, so he decided to ease in an interruption. He began telling the boy of his travels as a carriage driver, and of the unique and colorful people he's met being one.
This seemed to quell the clouds forming behind the boy's eyes, as he intently listened to the tales as the carriage rolled on.
Only when they stopped to relieve their bladders, and for the driver to refresh the horses with a snack and a quick drink from a creek, did Kor look upon the sun.
Seeing the boy look to him, the driver answered the question before he asked.
"We're close now," he said, patting a horse on its nose, "less than an hour."
The man could see Kor wasn't sure how to feel about it, as the boy turned his eyes back at the flowing water of the creek with an empty gaze, lightly shuffling pebbles on the bank with his boot.
Anxious he was, obviously, but rattled with just how anxious should he be.
The man stepped near and gently guided the kid back towards the wagon. He lifted him back up onto the driver's bench and offered him the reins.
"You ever steer a wagon?" he asked and hitched himself back up next to the boy.
Kor shook his head, despondency creeping back into his demeanor, so the driver initiated this new distraction with teaching the boy a bit of the reins. He let him have some fun with it, as they traversed the final bit of road to Riften.
When they rounded the last curve in the path, and the city and its gates became visible in the distance, Kor slowed their speed to an almost stop and stared ahead, taking it all in.
It didn't look as dark and foreboding as his imagination had tried to convince him it would.
In fact, from what he could see, it didn't look all that different than Sognsvann— but he figured it was much bigger beyond the gate of course.
It looked old, but Kor knew old didn't necessarily mean feeble…
The foliage surrounding the area was perpetually autumn, much like Kor's home for most of the year—although Sognsvann Shore did have its harsh winters.
Kor never minded that though. He wondered if it ever snows here.
The boy stared for a moment longer before taking a shaky breath, letting it out, and letting the driver have the reins.
As the carriage rode closer, the two guards who stood at the gate, the face plates of their helmets open, lazily eyed them as driver halted at the stables nearby.
The carriage driver waved, but the guards did not wave back.
It didn't particularly rub Kor the wrong way. His home didn't have guards, but he had seen them on the travels he did accompany his father for.
Guards never seemed openly friendly, but anytime he ever struck up conversation with one of them with his barrage childishly curious questions, they metaphorically let their guard down and entertained him in good sport.
The driver hopped off the seat and turned to the boy with his arms up and ready to help him down, but Kor suddenly seemed rigid.
All the wrongness he had been feeling ever since…
It was once again clutching a weighty, icy hand around his stomach.
The driver patted the boy's knee gently and then reopened his arms once again.
"It's alright," he said assuringly, "…I know it may not feel it, but it will be...Perhaps you may seek him here, right?"
Kor then remembered the mentioning of Mara's temple here, of seeking his father out there.
The cold grip on his stomach eased, he put on a brave face, and slid into the man's arms.
The driver sat him to his feet on the ground and gave a once more reassuring pat on the shoulder, before walking him to the gate.
One of the guards, a Nord woman with a sonorous though monotone voice, finally spoke.
"What business you got in Riften?" she asked, the only inflection sounding of boredom.
The carriage driver pulled some papers out from his vest pocket and made a motion at Kor.
"…'Fraid I got an unfortunate sort of delivery," he said.
The guard looked down at Kor, staring for just a moment before giving what almost sounded like a sarcastic chuckle.
"Unfortunate indeed…," she said.
Kor wasn't sure what to make of that, as neither did the driver. The man decided to simply continue what was going to say.
"I was told the most important bulk of the paperwork should have already reached the Jarl," he explained, "and that Honorhall should be well expecting the boy's arrival today?"
"Yeah, probably so," the guard continued her rather bland replies, "...I'll take him from here."
"I don't mind walking him—" the driver began to say, but the guard held up her hand.
"I have to accompany either way," she explained, "so if you're needing to head out for other business before dark, I suggest doing so. Before you're stuck at Bee and Barb for a night—which I don't suggest tonight. Dealing with a bit of clean up…"
"Clean up?"
"You've been here before?"
"Yeah…?"
"Then you know what kind of clean up..."
The driver noticed Kor looked up at him in question, so the man immediately kept himself from making any sort of aghast expression, but he certainly probably looked about as confused as the child.
The man had seen some rough and questionable things here before, but nothing of the caliber the guard seemed to be suggesting. Perhaps she just meant a rather bloodied nose after a bar fight…hopefully…
"Thank you for the ride," the driver suddenly heard the boy speak up to him, "…And the food!"
The man knelt down to the boy.
"Would you like me to walk with you?" he asked the kid.
Kor stilled, before glancing at the city gate and then the guard.
He seemed anxious, but he quickly put his attention back on the driver with a smile.
"I'll be alright," Kor said.
"Oh brave," the guard woman deadpanned, to which the boy and driver glanced but mostly ignored.
"Alright. Okay then, lad," the carriage driver nodded and gave a squeeze on the boy's arm, "You keep that chin and grin up. And mind yourself, young man. Better days will come."
That guard woman gave a blow of her nose and a roll-of-the-eye nod, but at this point, the man believed she was just a brute sort, dismissive of affections, and he decided not to think of it being anything beyond that.
Perhaps for his own comfort, so he could be able to leave a destitute child here…
"Should my reins find route here again," the man ignored the woman and continued his farewell to the boy, "…I'll come see you, if you like. Hey, unless you're plucked up by some rich snobs, eh? And don't want to see some poor measly driver of a rickety bit of wood on wheels. Hm?"
Kor's smile widened.
"I'll hire you personally," he giggled.
The driver chuckled back.
"Thank you, kind sir," he replied and gave the boy once last parting affection with a ruffle of his hair, "Take care, young man."
Kor nodded and stood back as the man stood up and handed what papers he had over to the guard.
The driver and Kor exchanged farewell waves, and with that, the driver made off back to his carriage to leave.
Kor stared at him a moment longer before looking up at the guard nosing through the papers. She twisted her lips in an uninterested sort of way, before looking back down at him.
Despite what she said next, even little Kor could pick up the cold pity in her tone.
"Come on then," she said, motioning him to follow, "…Time to meet the kindest person you'll ever know."