1 Introduction

"So many great nobles, things, administrations, so many high chieftains, so many brave nations, so many proud princes, and power so splendid; In a moment, a twinkling, all utterly ended."

—Jacobus de Benedictus

/*~KF~*\

"Behold! The Hero of Skyrim! The Savior of Solstheim! An honorary member of the House of Telvanni! God-son of Akatosh! The Dragonborn! Pleasing to the eyes of all Man, Mer, and Beastkind! Talion Wraith-Blood! The Breton whose Thu'um crushed Ulfric the Rebeller into dust!"

The streets of Solitude burst with a cacophony of sound and stimulation. Nords lifted mead in my honor, musicians blared, and women and children jumped in jubilation. The smiles broke through my usually gloomy demeanor, today the joy was especially contagious but deep down I knew the violence was long from over.

Although the Stormcloak's have been defeated and many have put up their swords forever, the zealous of any cause never surrender. Many of these zealots have assimilated into the tribes of the Forsworn and attempt to raise an army that way. Some zealots have even turned to human sacrifice and necromancy creating cults. I continuously think of everything that they could run to, the daedra, even the remaining Dōv who are now without a king-

My wife, the Jarl of Solitude took my hand on the throne next to me. She lifted a flagon in my name and the crowd jeered. I couldn't let my countenance seem gloom, so I raised a flagon as well looking at my wife all the while saying,

"Long live the Empire!"

I pressed my lips to my wife's as the crowd screamed,

"Long live the King!"

Smiling at the crowd I noticed someone with a cloak. Seeing no one else noticed her, Serana looked me in the eyes and smiled. I raised a flagon to her and she raised one back before disappearing into the crowd. I also spied Lydia, Jarl Balgruf, Jarl Maven Black-Briar, and all of the Companions all here for me. Even Neloth and those from Solstheim made an appearance it was as if the puzzle had been finished but lo, the puzzle hasn't even been started yet.

The Civil War had raged for 17 years. I was eighteen when I awoke in Skyrim, driven by what I thought was destiny and knew nothing of my parents or past. Lo, soon my youthful vigor later ran out and so I bragged and brawled at mead halls. I had been killing dragons for three years up to that point so needless to say any drunk who challenged me fell and fell hard.

Steel Plate and Clavicus Viles' Rueful Axe were my armor and weapon of choice at the time. Barbas had said the weapon was given to a man as a sinister joke. The man had a daughter who was a Lycan and her father went to Clavicus Vile for the means of ending her suffering. Lo, he gave him the axe. Then it became quite ironic that a Lycan such as I was using his weapon till I went to Solstheim. Guards and adventurers ogled the axe as well; many saying the blade was sharp enough to cut a god.

Then I met Meridia, a good daedric prince, one of purity. It was Meridia who renewed my vigor and glorious it would have been if I had never met Boethiah, or that I ran into Miraak's henchmen. Somehow the cauldron of emotions of my soul were stirred and my zeal for Meridia was transformed into the lust of power from Boethiah and knowledge from Hermaeus Mora.

Was it fear that drove me to that place? Fear of waking up with Mirrak's cultists over me with torches? The fear of the Silver-Hand hunting lycans? The Thalmor? Or exhaustion? I was just so tired and desperate, I just wanted to not be hunted like an animal for five seconds. Then five years into adventuring I met Serana and I didn't care what others thought. I was a hot blooded male just like any other but she wouldn't have me, despite her love for me at the time.

Then a tide of patriotism came over me, I had bided power for ten years before I enlisted into the Legion and happened across Elisif. I speedily became Thane mostly because I wanted to court her. I was married at thirty-one, defeated Alduin and had a son, thirty-three when I helped Neloth and met Hermaeus Mora. I was 35 when I shouted Ulfric to dust. Three months later and I am High King, my life has been a whirlwind of blood, bone, steel and most of all stress. Studying, traveling, fighting, searching and more only to repeat it. If I was any older when I started my ambition would have died... there's a reason why they send young men to war: they're easy to motivate.

Elisif squeezed my hand harder as we waved to the crowds as we were paraded through the streets. My new and personal court wizard believes that I, like many others in Skyrim, am experiencing War-Shock. A problem with post-traumatic stress... whatever that is. Not even Serana knows of Boethiah and Hermaeus Mora but she's asked me about the armor before. Not any ebony mail can cause you to turn completely black and your enemies to slowly die around your feet if they get close enough.

Boethiah's Ebony Mail was the most... useful memento I received from a daedric prince. The magical armor fixed itself, and distinguished friend from foe as it slowly poisoned them. It also sensed danger, and in turn I would become shrouded in shadow. Such a powerful armor however came with a heavy price. I had to sacrifice a companion at the proverbial foot of the daedric prince of plots and become her champion.

I used to get a kick out of watching my foes die in a shroud of shadow. Now however, now that I have time to reflect on the things that I have done? I think I am only beginning to realize just how big some of the mistakes are that I have made.

How exactly have my hotheaded choices affected the world around me? I hope to have done most of the fighting in this era, so that my son can rule in peace. But if I exposed the fact that the Thalmor had Ulfric as a sleeper agent with the documents from the Embassy... no, if I did that, then that would compromise my claims as High King. As tempting as it would be to forcefully push the Thalmor out they have a political shield. If someone found out that I had been a Lycan, broke into the Embassy, slept with a vampire, and dealt with Deadra on a semi-regular basis would I have an army of Nords on my side? Much more, my son's side?

The Blades were now nonexistent. Delphine was going to try and kill Paarthurnax herself. I rushed to the Throat of the World and confronted her and Paarthurnax. A mock battle ensued as I defended my Dov friend and practically begged Delphine to cease. The violence finally ended with Delphine being pierced through with Dragonsbane and being shouted off from the Throat of the World. I let the old man go... and that might have been a grave mistake.

Then there was the Reach. The Thieves Guild had me break into a Dwemer museum. I also found out later that the Jarl was a conspirator with the Foresworn. Despite being a Breton, I had very to little good will for them. After being thrown into prison by the Jarl's goons, I'd much rather help my distant cousins if they helped me. I hate the Jarl of the Reach with a passion.

And THEN there was the Skaal's. After Hermaous Mora absorbed their tribe's knowledge our relationship was strained. Once Stormcloak refugees fled to Solstheim bearing tales of war they ultimately poisoned any salvageable good will that remained. Already I have heard rumors of the Skaal's housing and possibly joining with pirates and raiders; pillaging the Northern Coasts.

"Talion." My name broke my train of thought. I delved into brooding yet again. My wife took my chin and guided me into a warm kiss as we were paraded throughout Solitude. Once we parted she said out of earshot of prying ears, "Should I command the maids to bring silk and spices to our bedchamber tonight?"

I smirked, I needed to be distracted and women have their ways. No doubt she knows all I know and maybe more. I'm new to politics whereas she has been in thick of this with Tuilus and the war. She probably needed a good distraction too~

"Yes, tell them to make ready. Also tell someone to take care of the child for the evening."