Mortal (Book 3)

Chapter 15

"This must be some sort of joke. You all can't be serious." I mumble as Ulfric guides me toward the door.
"Not at all, my love." He explains, smiling calmly.
"Ulfric." I say, demanding his attention. "I don't understand. Why did you do this?" I ask as we're drawing nearer to the Temple. My stomach hitches, and I feel the need to vomit again but I hold it down as best I can. He smiles again and gently holds my cheek before kissing my forehead.
"You'll understand soon enough. Priest Rorlund, good to see you again." He says, shaking hands with the priest as we reach the courtyard of the Temple of the Divines. The courtyard is full to the brim with people, many of them I recognize from last night, but some are still pouring in through the gates.
"And to you as well, Jarl Ulfric." He says politely. "Stormblade, how are you? Feeling better than the last time we met, I'd wager." He asks.
"Yes, much better, thank you." I tell him, smiling nervously. He opens a door for us, revealing a small set of wooden stairs which can lead only to the balcony. "Ulfric, I can't do this!" I beg him, tugging at his arm as he pulls me up the stairs.
"Nova, I know you can. These people love you, Skyrim loves you. You're one of them, they'll trust you. All you need to do right now is trust me." He says before kissing me and opening the doors of the balcony, revealing a roaring crowd. My knees quake beneath me, but Ulfric waves to them, smiling happily. I follow his lead, and to my surprise, they cheer. He steps to the front and center of the balcony, and I take a step back against the door.
"People of Solitude, people of Skyrim, and whomever else may hear on this historic day; A new ruler of our beautiful homeland has been chosen!" He announces, and the people cheer. "The Moot has chosen someone to reunite the holds, a warrior more honorable than even myself." He says. A few cheer once again, but most of them remain silent, confused. "I have abdicated my claim to the throne of High King, in favor of someone who would, with the agreement of the Jarls, better serve this land that I love. The Moot has chosen and has voted in favor of my soon-to-be wife, Stormblade Novariana Septim of Rorikstead." He says, turning and gesturing to me, my cue to step forward. A few in the crowd clap, but most look to each other in confusion. "I'm sure many of you are surprised and even shocked at this decision, and have many questions and concerns. I promise you they will be answered in the coming months." He says, but the crowd is silent, gawking at Ulfric and each other. I take the silence as an opportunity to step forward on shaking knees.
"I know that Skyrim's people will be surprised, believe me, I am too. And don't think for a second that all of Tamriel, enemies and friends alike, isn't watching us today!" I shout. They look to each other and nod grimly; perhaps not the right thing to say while they're already confused. "We won the war, but the road to true independence is treacherous. While many things feel uncertain at the moment, I can promise a few things. While I am a Septim descendant, gifted with dragonblood running through my veins, I'm no Jarl. I grew up in Rorikstead; I'm one of you, and I will never forget where I came from!" I shout as I look to their smiling dirty faces and worn hands, and they cheer in response. I breathe a sigh of relief and smile back to them; Ulfric was right. "With that being said, someone who is not of Nordic noble blood has never been elected High Ruler of Skyrim, so I can also promise that the era of my rule will be an era unlike any other. Above all, Ulfric and I will always do what we feel is best for Skyrim and protect her with our lives if we must, just as we always have." I tell them, taking Ulfric's hand and raising it above our heads, and the crowd cheers even louder, pumping their fists.
"Tonight, we will celebrate once again. Tomorrow, anyone we can fit through the gates may witness the coronation of our new queen." He tells the crowd, even though they can barely hear him. He slips a hand around my waist and escorts me back through the door.
"So the coronation is that soon? Will I have to make another speech?" I ask as soon as the noise dies enough for him to hear. He only smiles.
"Yes, I think it'd be inappropriate if you didn't make a speech at your own coronation." He says. I groan.
"I could barely think up that one..." I complain.
"And it was brilliant, my love. You were born for this." He says, squeezing my hand and looking into my eyes.
"I most certainly was not! I don't even know how a coronation works!" I hiss, pulling my hand away.
"I'll help you, Nova; it's all very simple, I promise." He says, gently holding my cheek.
We make our way back down the stairs, where four guards await to escort us through the crowd back to the Blue Palace. Galmar follows just behind the guards, somehow already back in his armor.
"You knew about this!" I accuse him when we get through the doors of the Blue Palace. He grins at me as I glare up at him with my hands defiantly on my hips.
"He suggested it." Ulfric laughs behind me. I throw my hands up, stomping up the stairs.
"Insufferable! Both of you!" I shout.
"Where are you going, majesty?" Galmar laughs.
"Don't call me that! Ever!" I shout back. When I get to the room I shared with Ulfric, Taarie and Endarie are already waiting to help cinch me into my corset.
"Stormblade... I see you dressed yourself today." Endarie says as she looks at the pea green dress in disgust. "A beautiful dress, of course, but what an... odd choice of accessories. Unfortunate you wore that on such a historic day." She says.
"Hopefully they were paying more attention to what I said than what I was wearing." I tell them, smiling patiently as they've already begun to undress me.
"Oh, but I wouldn't blame you at all Stormblade. After all, with your humble beginnings and lifestyle before now, what would you know about fashion?" Taarie adds. I can already see what they're both getting at; they think I need stylists, and they think they're the perfect ones for the job. I don't like the idea of other people dictating the way I dress and look, but if I'm going to be a queen, people are going to be paying attention to everything I do, from the words out of my mouth to the clothes on my back. Taarie and Endarie aren't particularly agreeable people, but they'll do.
"I suppose I could use some help. What would the two of you think if I offered you a job?" I ask, plastering another smile on my face. Endarie looks to Taarie in feigned surprise, her jaw dropping dramatically low.
"Why, Stormblade, we would be honored!" She says. Despite all of their bravado, they have their moments.
As they fasten me snugly into the blue dress, they bicker over how to design my wedding dress, something I hadn't even thought of.
"Well, either way, the dress has to be bold and attention grabbing. It simply wouldn't be appropriate to put the Dragonborn High Queen of Skyrim in something understated for her wedding, or any event for that matter!" Taarie insists as she paints my face once again. Someone knocks at the door behind me and Erdi shuffles to open it.
"Is she ready—" Ulfric stops when he sees me, and smiles softly. He gently takes my hand. "Every day, more beautiful than the last." He says. Taarie, Endarie and Erdi swoon behind him, and I try my best not to giggle at them.
"The announcement of the Moot's decision went out to all the holds as soon as we adjourned, and the gates are already bursting at the seams with people trying to get in for the celebration. I even received messages last night of nobles from the other provinces coming for the coronation." He says excitedly.
"Really? Which ones?" I ask.
"Morrowind, maybe even Black Marsh." He explains. "Anyone else coming could be considered an act of war." He scoffs. Technically, he's right. Elsweyr and Valenwood are under the rule of the Thalmor, and they wouldn't come unless ordered to. High Rock is still a part of the Empire, so acknowledging me as a true queen of Skyrim would be directly offensive to the Emperor. Hammerfell nobility is certainly too concerned with their own affairs to bother with Skyrim. Black Marsh and Morrowind are mostly independent however, so their presence is harmless.
"That's amazing!" I exclaim as I hug him and he lifts me off the floor. Suddenly the realization hits me that I know little to nothing about interacting with nobility beyond Jarls, and my stomach drops. "But wait, what should I say to them? How should I act?" I quickly ask. He smiles.
"Just be yourself, love." He says.
"But I'll probably offend them somehow! Ulfric I really don't know anything about—"
"Then don't bother trying to pretend that you do. People value honesty at all levels, always remember that." He says, kissing me on my forehead. He lingers there for a short while, and it's moments like these that I can forget all the chaos that our love was born into and just be with him. It ends all too quickly.
He escorts me out into the main throne room, full to the brim with nobles and common people alike. Even more shocking, all of them stare at me with a small terrified glint in their eyes, from the dirtiest beggar in the room to the fattest Jarl. Ulfric is directing us toward a Dunmer woman standing at the top of the stairs. She's dressed in elegant blue-black robes and an elaborate circlet, her long ears almost covered in shining piercings. On top of that, she's accompanied by two male servants, dressed in more simple clothes yet still matching hers. She's intently focused on me, sizing me up even. However, I don't feel so much intimidated as I am intrigued by her.
"Just follow my lead." He mumbles to me as we approach her. "Princess Redoran Satherea of Morrowind, pleased to meet you. I am Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm." Ulfric says, briefly letting go of my hand to take a step ahead of me and bow to her almost as low as he can manage. Despite his effort, the Princess maintains eye contact with me and barely glances down to him.
"'Pleased'? You didn't seem so content as to answer my father's many letters." She says, blinking her red eyes slowly at him. Ulfric stands, realizing his bow will not be returned with a curtsy of any kind.
"I do apologize, your highness, but with the present situation in our homeland—" He begins, but I can already see the anger boiling over in her eyes, so I cut him off and step in front of him this time.
"Stormblade Novariana Septim of Rorikstead, your majesty. I can't say I've heard anything about these letters, but I'll arrange for all of Jarl Ulfric's personal papers to be sent from Windhelm as soon as possible and we will read them together personally after the coronation." I explain calmly, maintaining eye contact. For the first time, a smile spreads across her painted lips and she returns the curtsy.
"Finally, the girl I've heard so much about. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Stormblade. I have much to discuss with you. Shall we?" She asks, offering me her arm. I glance back to Ulfric, half risen out of his bow and his face beet red.
"I'll find you later, dear." I tell him, taking the dunmer princess' arm. She waves off the two servants, and they quickly scurry away. The Princess and I walk arm in arm around the crowd of dancing people, and she quietly observes.
"My father and brother apologize for being unable to attend. My father's illness grows worse by the day, and my brother must serve in his place." She explains.
"I'm very sorry." I tell her, but she doesn't seem to notice.
"Tell me Stormblade, how did you come to call yourself 'Septim'?" She asks. The question is very direct and she seems to know, but I doubt she cares.
"I would guess that you may have heard that I'm Dragonborn, but perhaps you haven't." I tell her.
"I have, but forgive me, I don't understand. How has it been that for two hundred years, no other dragonborn Septim heir has surfaced until now?" She asks, studying my every move.
"From what few records I've been able to find a well as the time I spent studying with the Greybeards, I've concluded that the Dragonborn ability likely remained dormant in my ancestors. The only reason it was awakened in me is because of the return of the dragons." I explain.
"So you're saying this gift could be present in any distant relative of yours?" She asks.
"I won't deny that possibility your majesty, but as far as I know, I have no living relatives. Of course I would be delighted to be proven wrong, but..." I explain, trailing off.
"My condolences." The Princess says softly, obviously deep in her own thoughts. "Stormblade, what I am about to tell you, I hope you're prepared to hear. In recent years, as I'm sure you're aware from the many refugees that have flooded your gates, my homeland has faced many trials and remains scarred for years to come. We have only just begun to rebuild." She says. She looks almost younger than me, but with elves it's always almost impossible to tell; she could be one hundred years old for all I know.
"Congratulations." I tell her, unable to think of something smarter to say. She smiles a real smile, her white teeth standing out from her dark skin.
"It's not exactly a personal achievement, but thank you for the sentiment." She laughs. "However, as a province we've come to realize that the Emperor has no sympathy for our troubles. We've received almost nothing in return for all that we've contributed to the Empire in the past. They've truly abandoned us to fend for ourselves. No offense to you Stormblade, but humans have short lives and appreciate nothing." She scoffs.
"None taken." I tell her. She laughs again.
"With that being said, my brother and I have, in recent years, developed an interest in possible complete secession from the Empire. Of course with the support of my family and all of the Great Houses, an all-out civil war like you experienced here is an unlikely scenario, but the promise of Skyrim's support in such an endeavor would make it much easier for the Great Houses to agree." She explains.
"I would have to discuss it with my fiance and the other Jarls of my court, but I can't see a reason that we all couldn't agree that an alliance couldn't be mutually beneficial." I tell her, smiling.
"I admire your naivety, Stormblade. Morrowind can only promise as much help as it can give in any future endeavors of Skyrim, which we can't expect to be much—" She begins to explain.
"I understand, Princess. Leave it to me; I have a way of convincing." I tell her, winking. She smiles back at me.
"And so I shall leave you to your fiance." She says, directing her eyes to him and some Argonians dressed in fine silks and colorful feathers across the room. "I do hope I didn't scare him too much." She says.
"Just enough, I think." I laugh as he awkwardly makes conversation with the Argonians. Across the room, I briefly meet eyes with a small, wiry young man dressed in fine robes, giving me the most peculiar stare. Someone on the dance floor passes in front of him, and suddenly he's gone.

~

As the night drags on, most of the guests seem to have cleared out, aside from a small horde of drunken people that refuse to let the celebration end. Ulfric and I entered into some shaky agreements with the Argonian princes as well, but I would still consider it a successful night. The few bards that remain play a slow lullaby, lulling me to sleep.
"May I have this dance?" Ulfric says, appearing behind me, his hand outstretched. I take his hand and he pulls me out into the dance floor, guiding me into a simple two step dance. He twirls me clumsily around and we laugh, but we're interrupted.
"If I may." a voice says behind Ulfric. It's the same man, short with a neat dark ponytail at the base of his head, that was staring at me earlier in the party. He's quite small, only a bit taller than me. Ulfric seems more than irritated at the interruption, but something about the man's lingering gaze tells me he knows something important that he'd like to tell me. It's an odd time to ask for a dance, but I'll comply. I give Ulfric a pointed look as he backs away, and he nods, understanding. The Breton man bows to me deeply.
"Pleased to finally meet you, your highness. My name is Prince Amaund Motierre of Daggerfall." High Rock? It's an Empire province; How can he be here?
"I am Stormblade Novariana Septim of Rorikstead. Forgive me, but most people are holding off on the honorifics until tomorrow." I joke, but he only smirks softly, immediately drawing in close to me to begin the dance.
"Perhaps, but anyone of Septim ancestry will always be royalty to myself and my house." He says softly.
"Well... Thank you, I suppose. May I ask what miracle it is that the Emperor allowed you to join us tonight, your majesty?" I ask him. He chuckles to himself.
"The Emperor? I laugh at the thought. The Emperor has no idea I'm here, Princess, and I don't plan for him to find out." He says.
"Why take the risk, then?" I ask.
"All I shall say for now is that in recent years the five houses have begun to unite over a common cause. We've been making very careful plans and preparations for decades. In fact, your highness, we've been watching you for years." He says, smiling at me like a snake would a rat. I watch his eyes, carefully weighing my options.
"Is that so?" I say demurely, as if uninterested.
"Yes, and we know exactly where your father sent you five years ago." He says. My blood runs cold, and it shows. As I stop in my tracks, terrified, his wicked smile widens into a grin.
"Do not be afraid, your highness.. So long as you cooperate, revealing your secret would be beneficial to no one, not even myself and my associates. But believe me, what we have planned is in your best interest as well." He says.
"What do you want." I growl through gritted teeth.
"We will speak more of it later, your highness, I shall not bother you with it the night before your coronation." He says, backing away from me. "Goodnight, your highness." He says, bowing again and backing away from me with the same terrible smile on his face. I could stop him, order the guards to block the door, but I won't, and he knows it. I want this awful little man as far away from me as possible.
Ulfric is at my side in moments, seeing the anger and confusion in my face.
"Who is that?" He asks, watching him leave.
"No one. Just a snake." I tell him, seething with anger.