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Balgruuf

The mountains of central Skyrim gave way to a long and sprawling plain, their distant snow-kissed peaks like towers of earth breaching the sky. The plains of Whiterun allowed for much wind to come and sweep in, cooling anyone with hot blood.

"Finally, we're home soon," Father groaned next to me, his eyes all but saying that he wanted to rest. I can imagine he needed that. Travelling as a parapalegic was a difficult thing, especially at his age and with the whole medieval setting Skyrim had.

''You ought to rest when we return home, father," I told him. "I'll handle everything when we return, don't worry about it,"

"Oh I know, my boy. I know," he said, his horse snorting as we trod the roads of Whiterun Hold, our party a riot of noise and color. "You'll make a fine king, Balgruuf. One of the finest that we've seen in our history. I know I said this already but I am proud of you, my boy," Jarl Heorot smiled, patting my shoulder. Despite myself, I preened at his praise.

"High praise, father. Though what makes you say that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He snorted in the very same way his horse did. "Son, if you are willing to sit through the boring tedium of paper-pushing with bureaucrats then you are already doing half the trouble necessary to be a good king. Yes, we can gain glory in the battlefield or order monuments in our name but what truly matters is the ability to sit behind a desk and not lose your sanity through it all."

I laughed. "Well said, father. I gotta ask though. How well did you handle paper-pushing in your day?"

He looked at me seriously. "Aeschere has a generous salary for a reason, Balgruuf." He sat up straight on his saddle, an eagle flying by to pass over us. He smiled at the sight. "That's a good omen, that one." He shook his head. "Most day to day affairs, Aeschere handled for me. The bigger decisions, I handled personally. He and I have been breathing easier now that you've arrived from Cyrodiil and increased the clerks."

A silence descended as we trudged on. I was the one to break it. "Are you sure you want to step down, father? You're still quite young and Whiterun could still use you as its Jarl,"

He sighed. "Yes, I am quite sure. I..." He cleared his throat. "Your mother and I have given our best years in the service of the Hold. I think it would be alright for her and I to spend what remains in us in peace and quiet. And besides!" He suddenly started to cheer up. "We live in a new age, a new era. Whiterun has become High King after centuries, the world is changing. I am old, set in my ways. Whiterun can ill afford a relic like me, not when the world is changing." He glanced at me, smiling as he put another hand on my shoulder. "Now is your time, your generation's time. Make use of it, my son. Change the world."

I regarded him, my father. While he wasn't my actual father, there were times when the lines just blurred. He probably had no clue his Balgruuf was a different sort of man now. But I would be honored to call him dad, just as he was proud to call me son.

And so I smiled. "Thank you, father. I...I'll try my best."

He laughed uproariously. "You've done more than your best! You've surpassed me!"

My smile turned cheeky. "Well, what is the purpose of sons if not to surpass their fathers?"

Jarl Heorot glanced up at me. He snickered. "Perhaps, but there is one aspect you would not surpass me on."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

He laughed. "My boy, I've seen you when you were an infant. I am bigger than you, in all aspects."

I blinked at him, unsure of what he was talking about. Then, it dawned on me. "Oh, Oblivion take you, Father." 

To my fury, he rode off, laughing. Despite my words, I was happy that my relationship with my Skyrim pops was good. After all, having a good relationship with one's parents meant the family was stable and wouldn't end in some squabble. Having a good relationship with each other meant a source of support both practical and emotional for both me and them. I rode on in silence, reflecting on how I phrased my thoughts and realized that had to be tad bit sociopathic take for having a good family. 

Then again, this was my strength as much as it was a hindrance. Looking things as numbers allowed someone a certain...leeway in gaining a goal. I suppose the thing which made me somewhat different was my goals which was really the preservation and the victory of humanity. 

"We're almost home! I can see Dragonsreach!" Father cried out. And sure enough, it was there in the far distance, a monument of wood on top a high peak, it's roofs painted brightly that made it seem like gold was woven in its thread. And of course, there was a massive banner flying high on its peak, the stallion of Whiterun. 

"Yes..." I whispered. "We are home."

I think it was clear as day that I was becoming attached to Whiterun. First city to get into, first Jarl to talk to that was actually pleasant and acknowledged that you were the Dragonborn. First home, first everything. And the music that just played as you made your way inside. I enjoyed my time in Whiterun when I was playing the game. Now that I was living in it; smelt its aromas, walked its streets, touched its walls and spoke with its people, I was going to work hard to make sure that this place would be enjoyable for other people as well. 

Giving my people the opportunity to live better lives, that was a worthy goal more than anything. Certainly lasting longer than just plain pursuit of hedonism. What is a man after all if he does not change the world for the better? I could have started a harem and fucked my way till my cock shrivelled up from overuse but what would be left of me after I am gone? No, I was going to make something out of myself in this world, leave a place where my people could enjoy themselves and once that was done, I could start thinking about harems. 

"Whiterun truly is beautiful," I whispered to myself. Irileth and the terrible triumvirate which had been silently riding behind me for the whole time saw it as their chance to do so. Close as they were to me, no one just joins in a conversation between a Jarl and his High King. 

"It is, High King,'' Cassius nodded, a veritable fur forest on him. The poor Imperial was used to the warmer weather in the south. "Though the weather could use some warmth. It's Oblivion on my sinuses," 

''You know..." trailed Mira who at this point kept herself warm with a flame cloak. How her horse wasn't spooked by it, I did not know. Probably loved the warmth her cloak also provided. "If you want me to warm you up, I'd be more than happy to." 

I raised an eyebrow. 

"Phrasing," Gotz coughed. Realizing what she had said, Mira took in a breath. "I meant flame cloaks, you ninnies. I do not mean you, my lord, I meant these two fools." She lifted up her hand as a jet of fire surrounded her fingertips. 

"Warm me up with your hand, you mean," Cassius added with a little smirk. The breton rolled her eyes. "Yes, very original, Imperial. So, do you want to feel like you're in Cyrodiil or what?" 

''She's that good," Gotz said matter-of-factly, earning a groan from Mira.

I shook my head. Soldiers would be soldiers, no matter where. Whether in the modern day or in medieval times, no matter how elite or regular, soldiers would always be the naughtiest pieces of work bereft of morals this side of existence. 

Irileth joined me. 

"You don't approve?" I asked her, curious. 

''You're the High King now. The behaviour of your guard reflects on you," said Irileth, her eyes narrowed in disapproval. "I would rather not have it known that your personal housecarls behave like children." 

I laughed. "Oh my sweetest Irileth, we served in the Legion long enough that you cannot stop such behaviour. As long as they know how to behave themselves when the time calls for it then it is fine." I then grinned. "And besides, it's a hallmark of being soldier, acting like barely functional children. Why do you think they call it infant-ry?"

Twin red orbs, bright as rubies, narrowed. 

''I have plenty more where that came from," 

"Say one more of that and you will wake up with a dagger in your back," she warned me.

I shook my head. "Ah, my pun-ishment for having a sense of humor." 

Judging from how much she was glaring at me, I ought to sleep with one eye open tonight.

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Finally and after listening to the bickering of my terrible triumvirate, the procession arrived back at Whiterun. And just as expected, the city threw itself into a massive festive mood. 

Man, it was a good time to be a Whiterun resident. 

I put on my best smile as a wave of cheers and celebration clashed against me. By this point, many were absolutely ecstatic that their Jarl was elected as High King. Made more special when the last High King from Whiterun was in King Olaf's time, my distant ancestor up the family tree. 

"Hail Balgruuf! Hail the High King!" 

"Long live to you, High King!" 

''Glory to the High King! Glory to Whiterun!" 

It was all so celebratory and blatantly ass-kissing that I admit I felt pretty damn good with myself. But of course, I ought not to let too much of the blatant flattery get into my head, the temporariness of life and all that. I smiled and waved, with the aura and dignity of a practiced patrician. Not all cheers were for me though, some were for my father who at this point was still the Jarl. Soon enough, he would step down and Whtierun would finally and totally be mine. 

I glanced at my dear Housecarl and found Iri looking grave, her eyes shining ominously underneath her hood. 

"Iri, you know you can afford to smile a little," I whispered to her, my hands waving at the crowd, 

"I am smiling," Irileth frowned, her posture making her look relaxed but I knew that she was tense as hell. I knew her long enough to know how, with the way her fingers ticked every now and then. 

''Look at them, they're smiling," I gestured towards the terrible triumvirate. Mira was happily waving, Cassius doing so after much urging from Mira and Gotz...simply road with a frown. "Well, most of them are smiling. You ought to as well." 

"I'm your housecarl. My work is to protect you from threats, not be a parade piece," said Irlleth, "Or have you forgotten that there is a Daedric prince after me and you?" 

At that, I had to admit she had a point. However, to let myself be corralled by paranoia was not something I wanted to happen. Paranoia made you irrational. But...she had a point. "I have not forgotten, Iri. However, there is a difference between paranoia and vigilance." 

She looked thoughtful. "What was it you said to me in Cyrodiil? It is not paranoia when they are out to get you?" 

I held up my finger. She gave me a look. I held it back down. "Damn you for using my own words against me." 

"My lord, we both have our places in the world. Do yours in giving hope to these people," Irileth said, lifting up a hand to gesture around. "Mine is to figure out which one of them is likeliest to kill you. So please, let me do my work as much as you need to do yours." 

''When you put it that way, that does not exactly make me smile," I said, our path turning from the Plains and into the Wind District. 

"I am the brooding Dark Elf nightblade, my purpose is not to make anyone smile," Irileth said matter-of-factly. 

''I disagree. You made me smile plenty," I said quietly. Irileth perked, her hearing catching what I had said. She slumped slightly on her saddle. 

"That was a long time ago now," Irileth sighed before she shook her head, letting herself be cloaked by the darkness of her hood. I shook my head as well, as our path took us into the Cloud District, to Dragonsreach. 

To home. 

And there standing at the foot of Dragonsreach stood the welcoming party. Mother, Aeschere the Steward...Cecilia. 

I spurred my horse forward, suddenly breaking off from the party. Alarm filled them but understanding soon followed as I crossed the threshold. Cecilia saw me break off into a run and followed, her legs moving as she rushed forward. I halted my equine and jumped off. We both met and threw ourselves into a fierce embrace. Gasps and aw's erupted at the sight. 

"Once more tossing me into acting," Cecilia whispered into my air, her face buried against my shoulder. 

"Good soldiers think fast on their feet," I whispered back, our bodies warming each other in the frigid air. 

"And was I a good soldier, Honored Tribune?" the brunnete asked, looking up at me. I grinned. 

"The best," I then leaned down as we kissed, in a all too unchaste manner. Cecilia did not hold back, leaning into our impromptu makeout session. Loud cheers came from the juicy drama we gave to the public. If anything, this would cement my position even more as news would spread that the High King had a healthy relationship with his wife. 

Nothing makes the nobility and hoi polloi less anxious than knowing their King will not suffer a dynastic crisis. 

Cecilia was the first to pull back, her body just as inviting as I remembered it. "Someone is here with a surprise for you," Cecilia said, slightly out of breath from the kissing and with her pale skin, I saw how pink her cheeks were. 

A deep and more animalistic part of me growled at that. I forced the horny aside for now. "A surprise? Do show me," I said with cheer. At that, Cecilia turned back and made a ''Come here" gesture. Then, a face I had not seen in literal months came out. 

Freydis had a most pleased smirk on her face, a great-axe as tall as her, and with the stylized cast of a screaming Elf in it, went forward. "Months ago, you sent me into a great quest to find Wuuthrad. I am proud to say that I have delivered!" she roared, lifting up the great axe high into the air. 

Holy shit. 

She actually fucking found it. 

"How?" I said in total disbelief. While the Companions quest line was a breeze for us, this was not the game. Freydis was not a super-powered Dragonborn. While sporting an amazonian body with thighs capable of crushing watermelons, she was still a normal Nord with mundane powers. She had to go through all the shit with the Silver Hand, so many traps and the other threats...

Freydis simply laughed as she rested the greataxe on her shoulder and with her other free hand, flexed. 

"Behold, Brother-in-Law," Freydis boasted. "These hands which have fought draugr to merceneray. And these hands which now offer Wuuthrad to you," With that, she twisted Wuuthrad around and bowing slightly, held up her hand to offer the axe to me, balancing it on her palms. 

Seeing her bow, the rest of the assembled Nords foll0wed, whispers of ''High King'' under their breaths. A silence descended as Jarl, Guard, lowly servant dipped their heads in respect and reverence, pride in their eyes and chests. Above, the flags of Whiterun fluttered in the breeze. 

"Rise, all of you," I said, my voice echoing in the silence. "Just because I am High King doesn't mean I myself have changed. I promised that the future that we shall heave, we shall do it as one. I did not lie. So rise, my friends." 

At that, they slowly did. Cecila stood on one side, a smile on her face. I turned to her and smiled as well. "Tonight, we feast!" I then declared, to the cheers of the many. With the amount of partying I had been doing, I had to admit I felt a little bit sick of it but it was necessary, with the shit that lay ahead. 

These people all deserved every single moment of peace and happiness in their lives, as much as they could have, for in the future, peace will be nothing more but a memory. Turning back to Freydis, I accepted the axe. "I shall hold on to this for now, Sister-in-Law. Please, head inside. I hear they will be opening casks of ale and mead soon." 

"Already on it!" Freydis cheered, turning on her heels. Beside me, Cecilia stepped forward with a bemused expression on her face. 

''She's an interesting sort of woman," Cecilia noted. "You'd think with her brash attitude, she would not be so womanly. Wait until you see her handle Lydia and you would swear she was different person entirely." 

"She hadn't been troubling you, I assume?" I asked, hefting Wuuthrad onto the ground. Cecilia took the moment to embrace me, her face buried into my chest. We stood there in silence until she pulled back. 

"Oh, not at all. She had been happily telling me how her journey started," Cecilia revealed as we both started to walk, into Dragonsreach. "Mercenaries, trolls, the undead. Why, it all sounds like a cheesy adventure book." 

"That it does," I nodded. "But then, we are in a cheesy adventure book aren't we? You, the soldier-princess. I, the savage Barbarian chief." 

Cecilia snorted, elbowing me in the side. "Not so savage, you charlatan. You speak like you were raised in a Breton court." 

I laughed. "I am agog, I am aghast." I shook my head. "So, adventure book, eh? Was there a magical sword involved? Every book needs one."

Sweet chuckling came from my wife's lips. "Oh yes, if it wasn't cheesy enough. Freydis told me how she had discovered an ebony blade deep in the bowels of Dragonsreach, in an old and forgotten cellar in the basements. She swears that it must have been a relic of the Five Hundred Companions who store it there, waiting until someone worthy could wield it." 

I laughed along with her, until what she said registered in my head. 

I stopped walking. 

"What did you say? Ebony Blade?" A part of me swears that was important, somehow. 

A confused look came onto her face. "Yes...an ebony blade," Cecilia confirmed. "Freydis told me it came to her in a dream, a voice beckoning her to find it." 

Her face turned from confused to concern as she saw all the color drain from my face. 

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A/N: Oh noes. 

So this be the reason why Balty hadn't deep dived into the basements trying to look for the blade. This is a man who at the start of the fic came from a five year war, seeing things that normal folks would never have to see in any day of their lives. Being so far away from home and being stressed by the war, there are some details that Balty set aside or forgot. 

And now, with a stark reminder in his face, he has come to remember that Dragonsreach is now a ticking time bomb.