Prologue
"It is horrible and depressing, but the Empire will survive."
- Piner
Taken out of context, and from a different period of time, but you get the idea...
An echoing silence grasped the frigid air in the crypts beneath Castle Dour. Though contrary to immediate thought, it wasn't an eerie one. For truly so, it was the only sound ever to be had beneath the arched rock that supported the blue jewel of the North.
In any case, it may have come to a surprise to anyone as the sound of footsteps, echoing faintly against the smooth stone of the hall, drew nearer. A torch light crackled at the end of the hall as a figure, clasped in a heavy fur hood and cloak, followed this beacon of light.
The figure, while not necessarily large in stature, cast a great shadow behind him, across the many statues of those forgotten to the times. No sooner had those stone faces appeared in the torch light, did they vanish behind the vale of darkness with an inanimate sigh of relief; alone to themselves, once more.
The figure's pace slowed as the light of the torch finally flickered against what appeared to be the back end of the crypt. A smaller, squared section contained, and by the light of the torch, a series of stone steps which led up to a beautifully crafted, stone sarcophagus.
It was a respectably large sarcophagus, with splendid ornamentation licking every side of the stone tub. A stone king lay with arms crossed, hands grasped round a sword, atop the massive lid of the sarcophagus.
The figure moved up to the sarcophagus. As he did so, he outreached an arm and placed the torch on the sconce immediately to his right along the wall. He did this without diverting his gaze, which was always fixed upon the sarcophagus. The figure gently removed the hood from his head, revealing the hardened face of young man. He had a short, well-kept beard, the color of autumn leaves. His face, while commonly pale for a northerner, sheltered spots of pink on his cheeks and around his nose. His eyes were a deep shade of green, and his general expression, was that of a man in considerable thought.
He stood with his arms hanging down by his groin, hands interlocked by the thumbs, in a fashion indicating some degree of respect for the deceased in front of him. He must have been standing there for at least an hour before the sound and sights of more torches and more bodies came thundering from down the hall.
Two armored guards, clasped in the crimson color of Haafingar, bore torches and spears. They walked briskly, and in unison, down the hall, their steel boots clanking against the stone with each passing step. A tall, stern looking woman marched not three feet in front of them.
She wore an elegant, dark winter-blue dress with gold trimming and a heavy, white fur along the shoulders and breast. Her hair was long and naturally brown, but it was done up in this particular moment. Around her forehead, was a golden circlet with three sapphire gems embedded at the front.
The two guards both columned in opposite directions before halting, about facing, and assuming a position of attention. The woman continued about her pace towards the young man. She slowed as she came upon the man and the tomb at the back of the crypt. Standing there for a moment, she watched the young man in front of her curiously as he to stood motionlessly in the crypt hall. Several moments passed before he turned his head but ninety degrees. He let out a slight grunt before returning his head face forward.
"News has reached my ear," the young man begun in a stern, deeper tone, but took a pause before continuing, "My cousin has been crowned Kintyra the second...Emperor." He turned around and assumed a position of parade rest.
"So tell me, Mother," he continued, "What exactly did you accomplish while you were away? Because as we speak, the entirety of the Empire celebrates a coronation that should never have happened in the first place."
The woman squinted her eyes sternly before smiling and saying, "My king, my only son, you haven't seen your mother for some weeks and the first thing you ask about is the coronation?"
"Indeed." the young man said angrily, "The entire point of your expedition to the Imperial City, need I remind you, was to ensure that the Elder Council saw the illegitimacy of my Cousin's claim to the Ruby Throne, and prevent her from taking it!"
The woman smiled before saying, "You and I both know that your cousin has the full support of the Elder Council, as did her Father. You knew this long before you sent me south. And I'm certainly sorry to be the bearer of bad news, as any mother should be, but I'm afraid you'll just have to act like a King now, and deal with it."
The young man grunted in dissatisfaction, "This was your plan all along, wasn't it Mother? You've always hated politics. The only thing you lust for is bloodshed."
The woman diverted her gaze for but a moment before smiling and saying to the man, "This was always OUR plan. You were too blinded by the compassion you hold for those who share in your family name, to even consider the greater possibility that you'd actually have to go to war with them, to ensure the survival of our great Empire, and our Family proper."
"War," the young man sighed, "I would never have thought it come to this. How could the Elder Council be so blinded to the bastard child that now reigns over them? You'd of thought they would at least consider their options. I am a man, a king, a rightful heir to the Ruby Throne."
"Then prove it to them." the woman said sternly, "To all of them."
"Assemble the War Council," the man said, "Tell them their King wishes to take what's rightfully his."
The woman nodded, "Of course, my darling." she then turned and walked away. The two guards stepped off as soon as she passed them, marching behind her once more. As she stepped out into the bitter cold of Northern Skyrim, a slight smirk began to form about her face. Her plans, it seemed, were very much in motion.