Dinin Lives!
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tales_of_faerunTo Live and Breathe (500 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Dinin Do'Urden, Jarlaxle Baenre, Drizzt Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Drabble Sequence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:
He'd have to see what kind of life he could make here in this strange city called Skullport, and manage the flow of surface goods back to Jarlaxle.
If, he amended, the man survived whatever chaos was about to be unleashed.
Never in all his life had Dinin been so grateful to another man for his life.
"Two things," Jarlaxle began as he settled in his lieutenant's office in Skullport. He'd already stashed Entreri in a room to keep sleeping off his injuries. "Your brother is terrifying, and Menzoberranzan is currently resorting the power structure."
"These two facts are related?" Dinin asked, mouth gone dry as he imagined that dangerous… not-drow, not vaguely thinking warrior from years before.
"Oh yes. He pulled in enough magical aid to let the damned dwarves beat back the armies, and went hunting Matrons. Successfully."
Dinin shook his head. "He is very much Zaknafein's son."
"Entirely too much, I must agree, Dinin.
The last thing Dinin ever expected, based on his intelligence that Drizzt was tied firmly to the Silver Marches, was to find himself staring into those eerie purple eyes. The dim lighting was low enough that the glow was present, but at least both blades were in scabbards.
"Hello, brother," Drizzt said. There was no threat, nothing but calm, and the face was clearly sane.
Dinin still felt a terror inside his soul to be facing him.
"It's been a while," Dinin said, feeling like a fool.
"I'm glad you escaped," Drizzt told him. "Care to make a lasting truce?"
When he had been younger, and wished to meet all the ambition expected of him, Dinin might have envied the mithral shirt, or the enchanted weapons. Now, sitting and talking with his brother in the Dimmed Lantern, he was just glad once more that he had his life here.
"Next time, I'll bring my son," Drizzt told him at last. "If you wish to meet him?"
"Yes." Next time… Dinin calculated the risk, decided it was worth the offering of ties, even if they ran far apart.
Especially then.
"Why?" he did ask, after another drink.
"Family matters to me."
"Did you tell him where I was?" Dinin asked Jarlaxle calmly, on the mercenary's next visit.
"My associate let it slip," Jarlaxle told him. "Over blades."
Dinin toyed with his tankard, thinking. "I think I can trust him, and I really don't know what to do with that."
Jarlaxle leaned forward, putting a hand on Dinin's wrist. "Try to keep that. It might be useful to us. That idiot is entirely too good for my tastes, but he runs in powerful circles."
"Got that impression too." Dinin sat back, accepting his lot. "Hell of a thing."
"Yes, yes it is."
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Dinin Do'Urden, Jarlaxle Baenre, Drizzt Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Drabble Sequence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:
Dinin wasn't available to be turned into a drider. This is his life after.
To Live and Breathe
Dinin read the dispatch, then burned it, still amused to have access to candles of his own. He — and his strange brother — were the last of the House. And Jarlaxle didn't want him to come back to Menzoberranzan. That was even better news.He'd have to see what kind of life he could make here in this strange city called Skullport, and manage the flow of surface goods back to Jarlaxle.
If, he amended, the man survived whatever chaos was about to be unleashed.
Never in all his life had Dinin been so grateful to another man for his life.
"Two things," Jarlaxle began as he settled in his lieutenant's office in Skullport. He'd already stashed Entreri in a room to keep sleeping off his injuries. "Your brother is terrifying, and Menzoberranzan is currently resorting the power structure."
"These two facts are related?" Dinin asked, mouth gone dry as he imagined that dangerous… not-drow, not vaguely thinking warrior from years before.
"Oh yes. He pulled in enough magical aid to let the damned dwarves beat back the armies, and went hunting Matrons. Successfully."
Dinin shook his head. "He is very much Zaknafein's son."
"Entirely too much, I must agree, Dinin.
The last thing Dinin ever expected, based on his intelligence that Drizzt was tied firmly to the Silver Marches, was to find himself staring into those eerie purple eyes. The dim lighting was low enough that the glow was present, but at least both blades were in scabbards.
"Hello, brother," Drizzt said. There was no threat, nothing but calm, and the face was clearly sane.
Dinin still felt a terror inside his soul to be facing him.
"It's been a while," Dinin said, feeling like a fool.
"I'm glad you escaped," Drizzt told him. "Care to make a lasting truce?"
When he had been younger, and wished to meet all the ambition expected of him, Dinin might have envied the mithral shirt, or the enchanted weapons. Now, sitting and talking with his brother in the Dimmed Lantern, he was just glad once more that he had his life here.
"Next time, I'll bring my son," Drizzt told him at last. "If you wish to meet him?"
"Yes." Next time… Dinin calculated the risk, decided it was worth the offering of ties, even if they ran far apart.
Especially then.
"Why?" he did ask, after another drink.
"Family matters to me."
"Did you tell him where I was?" Dinin asked Jarlaxle calmly, on the mercenary's next visit.
"My associate let it slip," Jarlaxle told him. "Over blades."
Dinin toyed with his tankard, thinking. "I think I can trust him, and I really don't know what to do with that."
Jarlaxle leaned forward, putting a hand on Dinin's wrist. "Try to keep that. It might be useful to us. That idiot is entirely too good for my tastes, but he runs in powerful circles."
"Got that impression too." Dinin sat back, accepting his lot. "Hell of a thing."
"Yes, yes it is."
