Erik can remember the day with the clarity of a fresh snow. He was on hands and knees with a spade in one hand and a mud caked potato in the other, toiling away in the crop field across the way from his father's inn when the wood elf came into view, still a far ways off down the road.
Or: how Erik meets the love of his life, and gets the opportunity to live.
Or VR2: a fic I wrote three to four years ago, found in my Google Docs, and thought to upload here without touching up. I'm dying squirtle.
When a trip to Shearpoint goes awry, the dragonborn is forced to use a long guarded secret to save his most trusted companion before it's too late.
- Part 1 of Brynden the Nothing's Man