Balgruuf the Great ch 39 preview (Patreon)

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Irileth

There was a certain solace in the realm between dusk and dawn. It was like a silent world, held between the bustling energy of the day and the muted rest of night. For Irileth, it was a time where she most enjoyed and preferred. Normally, it was where she could be alone with her thoughts as she patrolled her position or simply passed the time spying on other people. There had to be something ancestral in that considering that Lady Azura's sphere was the time she enjoyed the most and she like most of her people owed their existence to her, and others.

But recent events, no, a thorn she thought she had kept under lock and key manifested to her in growing strength.

''Look at him asleep as a babe, unburdened by the troubles and pains you bear,'' the voice whispered directly to her mind again. Irileth ignored the voice, taking a moment to glance around the guest room her Lord, no, King slept.

The High King's chamber, was like most rooms in the Blue Palace ornate and well-furnished with the trappings and gilded pomp of Skyrim's richest city. Nordic architecture, Breton furniture, rugs imported from Hammerfell, candles made from Cyrodiil. Truly, Solitude was Skyrim's gateway to the rest of Tamriel and even if Skyrim had a new High King, it was more than likely to remain as such. It was the premier port to import and export goods out of the province after all, making the city and the High King's that ruled it incredibly rich.

Said High King was now sleeping peacefully on his bed, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. Balgruuf slept peacefully thanks to the fact that he no longer had to think about contesting his position with anyone else, he had a right some peaceful sleep at least after the Moot. As if there was a contest to begin with. Torygg was a young, wet behind the ears Jarling so recently thrust into his position. Balgruuf was a war hero, a liberator of a Nordic hold and a proven statesman. if anything, the Moot simply was a formality on humiliating Torygg.

Balgruuf was now out of the battlefield of politicking. Now, he was to lead a Kingdom of fiercely independent-minded Jarls.

He wasn't the only one who had to struggle however. Irileth too had her own struggles.

That being a shadow that loomed over her ever since she and Balgruuf decided, for the good of Whiterun, to cease being lovers.

The voice seemed amused at her attempt at ignoring it. She moved from where she stood, a dark corner of the room to pace around. Irileth had long since given up trying to look where the voice came from, realizing that her conscious self was whispering her this. She once had the idea that maybe, she was going mad. The voice in her laughed at that however, addressing her as one might talk with a dolt.

''You are not mad, child.'' the voice told her. ''You are far far more.''

''Who are you?'' Irileth had asked the voice. There was a moment in time when she knew when she was having conscious thoughts and when she was having an actual voice in her head.

''Oh, but you do know me, child. In the days before, you served me,'' the voice whispered back, a voice that reeked of promises and sweetness. ''The daggers you left in people's backs, the secrets and lies you plotted and discovered. Each one, a service and supplication.''

Immediately, it clicked inside Irileth. She should have known better, seen the signs before the obvious decided to reveal herself to her. ''You are Mephala, the Prince of Lies and Deceit,'' Irileth spoke out with a tremble.

The voice, no, Mephala, laughed. ''I forgive you for not recognizing who I was, Morag Tong. Few can hear my whispers anymore, even those that profess to worship me.'' Immediately, Irileth willed her mental defenses to the highest. She was not going to be so easily swayed. ''But you? You I speak to for I see in you great power and...potential,'' Mephala ended softly, like how a mother would soothe and encourage their child.

''Your promises mean nothing to me.'' Irileth whispered back, surefire certainty in her voice. ''I have everything that I want and need.''

''Not everything,'' Mephala replied back, making Irileth curse. ''You have riches, but it is hollow to your touch. Blades, daggers, armor. But they are nothing to you. No, you do not have everything, Morag Tong. You know what I speak.''

Balgruuf stirred in his sleep. Irileth stopped pacing, biting her lip as she looked at her Jarl.

''Look at him, so defenceless and alone,'' Mephala was taunting her, she felt.

''I'm not so easily molded,'' Irileth grit her teeth. The Lady of Whisper's voice next was mocking. ''You may think so. But in the end, you mortals will always flit like fire with the winds of your desires and conveniences. And those winds issue from my whispers. Even now, the mere sight of him fills you with flame. You want him. You desire him.''

''I...I do not. I no longer,'' Irileth bit back. But there was no fire to her rejection.

''Then why did you peer into Balgruuf's lovemaking with his wife?'' Mephala whispered sweetly, making Irileth freeze as her mind poured her memories, of standing by as Balgruuf and Cecilia made love, and her fingers right between her legs. ''Why is it, you still moan his name when you pleasure yourself? Why is it the very sight of him fills you with life and seeing him with his new woman instils in you a fierce jealousy?''

Her cheeks flushed. Memories flooded her mind, of how Balgruuf pleasured and had his way with Cecilia. How she was filled with intense desire and jealousy, how she had wished it was her that was laying with Balgruuf, not the Imperial.

''You love him,'' Mephala so helpfully brought the words out. ''You still do, even despite telling yourself that you and him are over.''

And she did. Theirs was not something so easily forgotten, set aside. Balgruuf had shown her kindness, fairness and love. She replied in kind. But despite that, they had a higher calling greater than themselves, Whiterun's stability and future. For that, they could not continue on.

''I know your thoughts, Morag Tong. I can see it know, on your face. But, have you and him not given much for Whiterun? Aren't you and him not due happiness?'' Mephala suggested. ''Here, behind these walls, there is no one but you and him. Go, let your passions run wild, Morag Tong. Not anyone can know of this, but you and him.''

Irileth knew that was an option she could always do. That he and her could do. Present a public face, and a private one. She knew that as a nightblade. Be a dutiful Housecarl to him and in the quiet corners of Dragonsreach, have him all to herself. It was a tempting proposal, an inviting one. An intriguing one.

But Cecilia, despite Irileth's jealousy, was good to her. Cecilia had been kind to her and instead of ordering her to leave, she had trusted her to look after Balgruuf. Most women would be suspicious of former lovers staying together nevertheless a Housecarl and their Jarl. She wasn't going to betray that trust.

''You may whisper to me of passions, and promise me of greater glories with...Balgruuf,'' Irileth whispered back to the voice. ''You can offer me those powers, of endless ecstasy. But that will be bought with ash, sealed with betrayal.'' She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. ''I will not betray my Lord for my own selfishness. I will not live in the shadows with Balgruuf.'' Her heart raced in her chest, knowing her next words would be taken as damnation. But she knew she had to say them regardless, to make her stance clear once and for all. ''I reject that life. I reject that shadow. I reject you.''

For a second there was silence. Then, Mephala answered. ''You reject me, Mephala, that which had guided and moulded your people and ancestors?''

''There are other gods,'' Irileth replied. She was never particularly religious to begin with, only keeping up with worshipping the True Tribunal, that being the so-called Good Daedra of Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala. ''And you mistake me. I have long since left the Morag Tong after they abandoned me to rot in Cyrodiil. I have a new master and lord now. And his name is Balgruuf of Whiterun.''

''Then, my child, we shall see how effective you are in the service of your new master,'' Mephala replied without any heat. It seemed that the Daedric Prince of Lies was amused with her little rejection. ''A web is large and there are more than enough flies for the spider to feast on.''

And with that, the shadow that loomed in her left. Her being and soul felt light. Taking a breath, she forced herself to calm. Despite her bravado, Irileth still felt fear. Rejecting a Daedric Prince was no simple and easy thing. There was going to be consequences after this.

Blinking, she turned back to Balgruuf and resolved to warn him that a Daedric Prince was lurking in the shadow and it would be best to be careful. As soon as he would wake up, she would tell him and not a moment too soon.

She bit her lip.

No, it would look like she had lost her mind. In his place, she too would be off put if someone spoke of voices in their head and a plot being hatched somewhere.

Irileth shook her head. She could care less if Balgruuf thought she was mad. He had to be told.

From the bed, she could hear Balgruuf stirring once more. Turning, the Nord was starting wake up, eye lashes flashing as he got a hold of his bearings. He scanned the room before his eyes settled on her. He smiled. ''Ah, there you are,'' his voice was low and deep, starting a fire in her stomach. She shook her head. A time and place for everything, she told herself.

irileth rounded to his side, earning a off-put look from Baglruuf. ''Balgruuf, there is something important I need to tell you,'' her voice was laced with warning. She took in a breath. ''I must warn you that the Daedric Prince of Lies and Deceit had been whispering things inside my head ever since we decided to break things off. I had been resisting her influence since she first spoke to me but her voice has gotten stronger. She had spoken to me about a web and different flies drawn to it. I fear that she must be plotting something against you.''

Balgruuf stared at her. She glanced back.

'This was delicate?' her conscience told her. She bit back the growing awkwardness that was swelling inside of her, opting to fall into her usual stoic look as she and Balgruuf exchanged glances.

Alright. Maybe she was a bit hasty in her approach.

To her surprise however, Balgruuf sighed. ''Can't have shit in Tamriel.''

She blinked again as Balgruuf pushed away his blankets and swept his legs to the side as to sit on the bed, a bath robe being the only thing that covered a body of scars and muscle. A grave look came on his face as he looked up at her.

''Tell me more about the voices,'' Balgruuf commanded.

And she did.

''When you and I...'' Irileth paused, trying to think of a better way to put things. ''Settled on our arrangement, the Prince of Lies whispers started to form.'' She peered at Blagruuf to see his reaction and found no judgement, only a serious and grave look. Her heart swelled at that, seeing him treat the matter to her well-being seriously. ''At first, I simply thought it as my own conscience whispering things to me so I did not pay it much attention. Then, it got worse in each passing day, telling me to...partake in you.''

''It is a credit to your honor that you hadn't,'' Balgruuf commented, a smile on his face. She preened slightly at the praise. ''And now, Mephala spoke to me directly, tempting me to you. I...I refused." She took in a breath. ''I fear that she will attempt something else now, aimed at you.''

''And knowing that it is Mephala, we must assume that she already had a plan if you did not fall in line,'' Balgruuf remarked, rubbing his beard. He looked up at her. ''I have my orders for you. Today, I shall be crowned by the Moot. Tell my men to be on alert. My rogues, they shall be faces in the crowd. Archers, all shall be posted on high vantage points. I want Cassius standing guard with my father, just in case.''

She nodded once more, taking in Balgruuf's orders. ''And the normal household guards?''

''Tell them to keep their blades sharp and their eyes and ears sharper,'' Balgruuf replied, standing up to his full height. Irileth's eyes followed him, subtly eyeing his chest.

''And send word to Whiterun to keep Dragonsreach on alert. Tell Cecilia to be armed, always.''

Balgruuf continued. ''They've already been told that I have won the throne?''

Irileth nodded, taking her eyes away. ''They have. Your mother wonders why the coronation isn't being held in the city.''

''Because all the Jarls are here in Solitude and the Temple of the Divines is here,'' Balgruuf answered, his legs taking him to a nearby wardrobe. ''I will have yet to make conversation with the Imperial representatives about my intentions as High King. I feel we will have much to discuss.''

''You are taking this rather well, Balgruuf,'' Irileth commented, her worry about being taken as a madwoman gone. Balgruuf sighed at her. ''Iri, we live in a universe where miracles occur, where magic is a way of life, and the Aedra and Daedra either raise lives or ruin them. It is only natural that I believe you.''

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The coronation went by without a hitch. It wasn't a ostentatious ceremony like the Bretons were wont to do with their fireworks, and musicians and steamers nor was it entirely a grand affair like how the Imperials would crown their Dukes, Princes, and Emperors, trumpets and horns blowing in high and low places, signalling to all that a new Lord was there to lead them.

But it still had its own respectable ceremony. Irileth saw.

In the Temple of the Divines, a long red carpet, its flanks guarded by Whiterun guardsmen, was laid out that to the inner sanctum where shrines of the Divines sat in little niches. On their own little niche, a stained glass image of the Divines presented a picture of what they looked like or rather, what the Nords thought they looked like. She doubted if the early Nords actually had a fondness for putting the images of their gods into such a ornate way. This was most likely an Imperial influence that the Nords quickly adopted as the Empire got to its business of spreading its culture around as a positive force as the Imperials would say or something akin ot how rats or plague might spread, as suggested by some detractors of the Empire.

The glass windows and their designed formed in the sanctum was formed in a sort of U and had light seeping through its glass, allowing it to not just tower over supplicants but to figuratively and literally bathe pilgrims in light. Thanks to recent continental developments however, there only eight glass windows compared to what was Nine, a grumbling she could hear amidst the crowds here and there.

And to speak of the crowds, Irileth could only describe it as suffocating and a massive security risk.

The Temple of the Divines was jampacked with people, The usual blonde and blue eyed Nords was the most numerous, their clothing plainer compared to the doublets and style of the Bretons or the robes and turbans of the Redguards or the cosmopolitan raiment of the Imperials but between the fashion choices that the race of men decided to wear, the Nords was well suited to their enviroment.

The nobility was much more better dressed, in terms of color and scale at least. Rich thick robes of brown or yellows, or the more brighter fur-clad tunics here and there. She wasn't much to comment on their fashion however, her eyes and ears focused only in scanning the crowd for potential assassins or dangers that didn't fancy Balgruuf becoming High King.

As soon as she could, the Whiterun contigent had been sufficiently alerted and each man and women that came to protect their Lord made sure that if anyone would attempt to interrupt, a most gruesome death would await them. But so far, nothing too dangerous had occurred and Balgruuf successfully walked the length of the red carpet and onto the main altar.

At the main altar, a throne made of oak, fashioned in the Nordic style of waves and flowy designs awaited. There, Balgruuf walked and met with the priests of the Temple. They lowered the heads at him and he lowered his head in turn. He then turned to face the crowds and sat on the throne. He cut a dashing figure, the armor of Whiterun clad around him, brown and yellow plate with a golden cloak that half-covered him. His head was bereft of a helm however as the Jagged Crown would be placed on him.

The priest spoke at length of his duty, of how he the High King being chosen also meant that the Aedra had chosen him as well through the Jarls, the trials that Balgruuf would face.

At the end of it all, the priest then got into position and deftly placed the Jagged Crown onto Balgruuf''s head easily. The elderly Nord turned to the crowds, proclaiming in a loud voice. ''All hail Balgruuf, High King of Skyrim!''

A barrage of sound hit them as the Jarls, the chiefs, and clan-heads unsheathed their weapons; swords, axes, maces and held it high. The room flashed with light as steel gleamed. ''Long live Balgruuf! Long live the High King!'' they all proclaimed. To his credit, Balgruuf dipped their head at their proclamations, maintaining a look of stoic dignity.

Not two seconds in and he was already cutting a kingly figure. Now time would only tell if his reign would be blessed.

Now, the crowds thinned as the Jarls stepped forward. Closely, Irileth watched the attire of the Jarls. Jarl Igrod wore her usual clothing though the cloak of black feathers she wore around her shoulders was a interesting choice. Whatever statement she was trying to say, Irileth could not pierce. The Jarls of the Old Holds, so named for them being the oldest established settlements of Skyrim wore armor of their Holds save for the Jarl of Riften, a symbol of them willing to serve Balgruuf both in peace and war? The Jarl of Falkreath was concerning however as the old man kept his appearance plain. Perhaps he was showing his displeasure at Balgruuf for not marrying his niece? A small part of her felt good at that. At least Blagruuf wouldn't be marrying a cow. Taking in some self-satisfaction, Her red eyes focused on Jarl Torygg, Balgruuf's humiliated other. He cut an interesting figure, a set of embroidered garments of red and green, a golden belt around his waist and a circlet of gold with rubies and emeralds. From a certain point of view, that sort of set would be kingly. Was he showing his displeasure in the results?

What ever displeasure he had, Torygg kept it well in himself as he joined the other Jarls in taking their oaths, recognizing Balgruuf as their High King. The Jarls all took their oaths together, to symbolize they were all equal with each other and as a group, they simply recognized Balgruuf as the one most worthy to lead them.

She turned her head to scan the crowd, feeling a little tired from watching the nobility play their games with each other. Irileth quickly spotted the other housecarls milling about in the crowds. So far, nothing untoward was happening and the security held up. Irileth did not allow herself to let her guard down at all. It was not a matter if an assassination attempt happened but when. Putting aside that they had to worry about a Daedric Prince, there was more than enough threats out there for her to be concerned with.

A few minutes later, the Jarls all finished their oaths and returned to their seats. Jarl Heorot had to be escorted however, his disability plain to see but he trudged on regardless.

Silence descended in the temple as Balgruuf stood up and take a step forward, standing tall and regal with his crown of dragonbone and scale. Then. he spoke.

''Today marks a momentous occasion for Skyrim. To our east, Morrowind still yet suffers from the Red Year and the Argonian Invasion. To the south, Cyrodiil still buries numerous sons and daughters in graves and in our West, Hammerfell spills its blood in defiance of the Elves,'' Balgruuf rumbled. ''Only Skyrim remains as the sole Imperial province that is totally untouched by war. Our fleet remains full, our armies are spent from war but still strong and growing stronger by the day. I see no reason as to not improve on our situation. Before any new plans can be drafted however, We must know what is the full extent of our arsenal that can be utilized. And thus, I announce a census of Skyrim, to fully take stock of what we have and from it, to know what must be improved.''

Balgruuf turned to the Jarls who stood straighter. ''My Jarls, I task this endeavour into your capable hands." They all nodded and that, Balgruuf glanced back up.

''As rumors suggest, Whiterun had begun the process of reorganizing its farms and road-networks and from it, the Hold had profited immensely from readily available food as well as swifter roadways of transport. In that vein, such methods and road improvements shall be introduced into the rest of Skyrim. Beginning first with the most used roads. This improvements however will begin only after the census has been completed for Skyrim to better act with knowledge.'' Balgruuf declared. Well, that was certainly a hook of loyalty for the Jarls. That and a carrot to get them to be swift with their census taking. It too sounded absurdly expensive but then again, Whiterun had plenty of septims to spend.

''Let it not be said that Skyrim forgets those that had fought for her and the Empire she proudly stands with. We announce the creation of the Veteran Fund, a charity organization whose purpose is to look after the orphans of those that served in the Nordic Legions as well as offering stipends to widows and veterans otherwise unable to find normal work or experience difficulties into readjusting to civilian life. We owe much to our heroes and they shall not be forgotten. It's chief shall yet to be determined. Donations to the fund will also be welcomed,'' Balgruuf said, a genuine smile on his face. Irileth bit back a laugh. Balgruuf was anything but subtle and this act was a blatant attempt at bribing the Imperial Legion, not that they needed bribes. Balgruuf was one of them after all and the Legion looks after its own. The Legionary representatives certainly looked pleased.

''In that same spirit, the Skyrim Disaster Relief Organization shall be a sister group to the Veteran Fund but as the name suggests, it shall be an organization that focuses on the victims of natural disasters of both mundane and magical natures. Let it not be known that Skyrim abandons its people. It's chief is yet to be determined as well and donations to it will always be welcomed.''

Everyone certainly looked pleased thought the guild heads looked apprehensive, notably the Smithing Guilds. Irileth could understand as Balgruuf had spread cheaper methods in producing weapons and arms in his Hold.

''Now as We have no desire to evict the Jarl of Solitude from his home and We wish for a efficient administration, the administration and governance of Skyrim shall be relocated to the Hold of Whiterun.'' He declared. A low murmur broke out among the assembled men and women but it all fizzled at Balgruuf's gaze.

''That is all to announce at this time,'' Balgruuf declared. ''Make merry and rejoice, my Jarls, for the future shall be good and prosperous.''

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Far far away, back in Whiterun, a party of adventurers returned. The guards halted them for the usual inspection. They quickly recognized the party as they had seen the same men and women leave Whiterun many many moons ago. 

''Lady Freydis, with a gift for my brother-in-law!'' The boisterous wife of Hrongar declared, in her pack a ornate box filled with shards of history. 

''Lord Balgruuf is in Solitude at the moment, as is most of the nobility for the Moot,'' one of the guards replied. ''We have had messages that he has been voted as High King.'' 

''Is that so? Well, I'm not going anywhere. I will be here, waiting,'' Freydis said nonchalantly. ''May we pass now, kinsmen? Anymore and I fear the Companions that I bring with me will die of thirst!'' 

''Of course, my lady,'' the guards saluted, standing aside to let her pass. Smiling with great cheer, she urged her horse forward. As the guards watched them enter, they took note of a peculiar looking blade on Freydis's person. Quickly, one of the guards identified what it was. 

''Ebony, how luck of her,'' they moaned.

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A/N: Oh noes.