The Moot Of All Evil

by Mystichawk

When a Redguard has had enough, she's has had enough. Skyrim is in turmoil and the only thing that can save it is one stubborn dragonborn and a little trickery. Join Djinn as she decides how best to deal with the friends, enemies and family she's made along her destiny as dragonborn.

I put up with it for about six months before finally putting my foot down.

In reality, it should not have taken that long. Hell, it should've taken about two seconds after they realized the world was going to come to an end if they didn't cooperate. But nooo. Ulfric couldn't let bygones be bygones and Tullius was...well...Tullius.

It all started before I took Alduin down. Well, technically it all started when I stepped foot in Skyrim, but that's going to take a long time to explain. Sufficed to say, my family banned me from ever returning to Elsewyr because of...let's say...complications having to do with my getting married. I left and didn't once look back.

Originally I planned to visit Hammerfell, but got side-tracked and ended up in this frozen wasteland known as Skyrim. It was...different from home. Much more different. Full of new monsters to face, new battles to fight, new things to learn, new foods, new people, practically everything about it was new. And I wanted to see it all. But what happens? I accidentally stumbled into a camp of soldiers- Stormcloaks, named for their leader Ulfric -and get rounded up with them and accused of treason! In a land where I've barely spent ten minutes!

I was headed to the chopping block, no doubt about that. Then the dragon attacked and...well...I got thrown into this insanity. Ma always said I had a knack for trouble, and Skyrim proved her right. After escaping Alduin for the first time I traveled around a bit, got mixed up what normal folks would call "bad company." They weren't though. They were great people. Wonderful. Sure a fair few tried to kill me, but that's what family does.

We went on grand adventures, trekking all across the continent, diving deep into the nastiest pits and dungeons in search of great knowledge, fabulous treasure and exhilarating challenges.

It wasn't all fun and games, though. I nearly died more times than I could count. Actually...I think I did die a few times. But my watchdogs brought me back. That's the Daedra. Big cosmic whoohas living Nirn knows what kind of plane. Before Skyrim, I knew only of my lord Sheggorath. Daedric Prince of Madness. They all thought I was pretty mad, to begin with, so why not keep the old joke alive?

I quickly discovered that Skyrim was a place ripe with magic and Daedra, looking for mortals to do their bidding. I went along with most of their inane quests. One got me thrown in jail, another had me slaughter a dozen people, and a third had me harvesting blood. Thankfully I'm not the squeamish type. I hang around vampires, after all.

Sufficed to say, by the time I'd defeated Alduin, I had become pretty well-known throughout the whole of the continent. And several other places besides. The Thalmor hated my guts, the dragons quaked at my coming, the draugr fled at the sight of my blades, kings bowed to me and the emperor himself died at my blade. I stirred up quite a bee's nest. Ma always said I had a hunger for chaos. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to learn all those spells...

Anyway. Sorry. I've got so much going on that I really start to ramble. My Keeper suggested that I write down the tales of my exploits so that "future generations" will know the brave tales of their ancestor, the Dragonborn. I'm not so sure. But it keeps him from asking me for constant sword-practice, especially since he knows I'm better than him anyway and it's just a waste of time, so I've decided to go along with it.

I've gotten pretty far. Sixteen volumes in the 'Redguard who was everything' epic. Like the title? I thought it sounded too pretentious but all the scholars I've talked to assure me it's great. Everyone except Urag. He never minces words. I like that about him. He tells me the truth, and the truth is...I think they're just buttering me up so that they can get a free copy.

I've recorded practically every step of my journey, from the beginning to just before the Moot, and now I think it's time to get that down before Hermaeus Mora shows up, begging for his own signed edition.

Like I say, it happened six months after my defeat of Alduin. I had plenty left to keep me busy; miscellaneous quests for my factions, things to do for the people of Skyrim, books to read, things to steal, people to kill, people to meet, places to loot, monsters to kill. You know the usual adventurer fair. But I decided to put it all behind me and focus on something I'd wanted to do for a long time.

Retire.

I guess I assumed, and by all rights it should've been, that once the gigantic black dragon plaguing the land was vanquished and everything was restored, people would be able to set aside their differences and come together to rebuild their war-ravaged land.

I was sadly mistaken.

Despite the main dangers being over and done with, political squabbled had hurt Skyrim far more than any dragon attack had. Wounds ran deep and I was definitely not high enough in my restoration skill to do anything about it. For all the money, time and effort I'd put into helping rebuild Skyrim, they were doing a pretty piss-poor job of helping themselves.

Give it time, I told myself as I headed back from selling excess loot. Something to help the Skyrim economy. My closest house was Lakeview Manor, which was good because that was the one with the big, soft bed. Give it time and they'll come around. Same old song I'd been singing for the past few months. But somewhere, in my heart, I knew it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

After Alduin's defeat, Paarthunax gave his permission for a few weeks of respite which I used to catch up on my alchemy skills, organize the massive piles of shit cluttering up my houses and in general take a break from the adventuring life. I basically hid out in my various houses, sneaking in and out of towns under cover of darkness so that nobody would bother me. Thank the gods for my sneak skills, and my fat money purse.

I had hoped that the world would forget me, but I have no such luck.

I don't know how they found me, but upon arrival to my house in Markarth, Argis greeted me at the door with a letter from the guilds who needed my help again. And the mages college for approval in various experiments. And confirmation of Paartnunax's death for the Blades. And questions about my progress in certain quests from pretty much everyone I'd ever talked with.

I tried to ignore it, I really did. Six more months passed, and the letters just kept coming. Some were pleasant inquiries about my well-being from commoners I'd helped over the years. I kept those in a bag somewhere off to the side. They kept most of the guilt away.

And then people started coming to my door. I know for a fact that the mages were behind this development because they are the only ones who could've possibly tracked me. Now, I consider myself a tolerant woman, but when you come to my door, knocking at all hours of day and night with requests and demands of me, expect a sharp Thu'um in response. Which is exactly what I gave them. One after another, until they stopped coming. At least I directed them to fall into the river.

I will not lie, I was ready and fully willing to pack up all my belongings and move to Solsthiem. Anything where there would be peace and tranquility. And if not for Argis, my housecarl, I might've. After slamming the door on my latest Thu'um victim, I sank to my knees and began to sob.

"What am I doing, Argis?!" I demanded, looking at the floor because I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. "I'm holed up here like a coward, hiding from all the responsibilities I brought upon myself, unable to face the people who depend on me!"

Argis set down his shield and sword, picked me up and sat be down in a chair. "My thane, you are many things. But you are certainly not a coward."

I laughed ruefully, laying my face down against the cool stone table. It felt good against my skin, soothing my perspiring forehead. "Says you. But what else can you call someone who hides from even the remotest iota of responsibility?"

Argis didn't answer me. I heard him chuckle, stand and the familiar clink and chopping sound of a meal being prepared in the kitchen. At least he knows what I like, I thought, smiling at the soothing aroma wafting around the room.

Not too long later, he set the bowl of carrot soup and leeks before me. I'd been dozing but the mouth-watering broth pulled me back from the void of sleep and I lifted my head, staring down my nose at the swirling steam curling up from the bowl.

"Eat up," he said, taking a seat beside me. "Before it gets cold. My thane."

I'll be the first to admit, I was still a bit out of it from my half-nap. My head rolled sideways and I fixed him with a narrow gaze. "Argis, we've known each other for seven years. You can stop calling me that any time you know."

He chuckled, taking a bite of fish. "Whatever you wish, my thane."

I gave him a stink-eye look but he politely ignored it, realized I wasn't going to get anything else out of him until I'd eaten something, and sighed. "Well, at any rate, thank you for the food. You all take such good care of me, I feel bad that I haven't taken you out on as many adventures as Rheya and the others."

The soup tasted like liquefied heaven and I swiftly drained the bowl. Argis offered me a boiled cream treat and, never one to refuse sugar, I accepted with a grateful nod. "It is nothing, my thane. That is what I'm here." And, once I'd finished eating, he asked me what I planned to do about this situation.

"Good question." I murmured, gazing into the depths of the table. Trouble was, I didn't really have a clue. I couldn't just storm the castles and halls, demanding solitude. That wouldn't work. I mean, I could, but it wouldn't help my image in the public's eye. And, annoyed or not, I was still an adoptive daughter of Skyrim. I had her best interests at heart.

Argis originally had the idea to call another Moot. He was a Nord, born and bred. He knew the significance of nordic tradition and was the best person to educate me. The first moot had decided the temporary truce of the sides in the Civil War, conditionally on the demise of Alduin. And now that he was dead, things were starting to get hot again under the collars of not only Tullius and Ulfric, but my friends as well.

Stormcloaks occupying the Rift had kicked the influence of the Thieves' Guild back into the sewers. Assassins turned up dead on the street for the first time in thousands of years, at the hands of Imperial soldiers. Mages faced blatant prejudice against the 'true sons of Skyrim' and the Blades, which were once protectors of the Empire, were now little more than a bunch of leather-clad grey-hairs with funny-looking swords.

Even the Vampires and Werewolves, who had faced practical annihilation more times than any creatures on Nirn and were used to running, hiding and keeping out of sight, were finding it difficult to remain living.

I wasn't about to let this stand. So, following Argis's advice, I called the Moot. In the traditional way. Lots of Shouting and fast-footed runners. I decided to set the place in a neutral venue, one where I would be able to make sure no one, regardless of their orientation or motive, would betray.

They took some time getting there. Most of the invitations to family and friends I delivered myself but even when they were using horses and carriages and the occasional magical teleportation item I still reached Helgen first. The city had been rebuilt- with my gold -a few weeks ago for just this purpose and it had become a bustling trading mecca between Skyrim and the people in Cyrodil across the border. People flocked there and it brought a smile to my face to see the little children running around.

We met in the largest keep building. A massive, newly-built stone fortress, furnished to the fullest. It had massive rugs spanning the entirety of the floors, tapestries, bedrooms, and a massive meeting hall in the center, decked out in resplendence of the late second-era. But the main reason I had chosen Helgen was not for the tasteful decor. It was for the fact that Helgen over-looked a good portion of Skyrim and I needed the mountains at my back if my plan was going to work.

Most everybody took their sweet time. Ulfric, Tullius, and the Aldmeri Dominion were among the last to arrive. Thankfully, the Greybeards had deigned to show up and that made things a whole lot easier. I showed everybody in and had them sit around the table. Every one of the influential people I'd met was there. All the Jarls, the High King in the making, the general of a splintered Imperial Army, the right-hand men (and women) of the respective Guilds and factions, as well as a single citizen from each of the nine holds.

In order, the seating went like this. Me at the head of the table, with the open courtyard at my back and the mountains beyond. To my right- Cicero and Karliah, An agent of the Thalmor, Arngeir, Ulfric, Maven Blackbriar, the Jarls of Falkreath, Dawnstar and Morthal with a partnering citizen. On my left, Tolfdir, Brynjolf, Delphine, General Tullius, the Jarl of Riften, and the matching Jarls and citizens of Eastmarch, Solitude, and Whiterun.

I'd chosen very carefully when picking the citizens to attend. Only the most important were in attendance; Maven Blackbriar represented Riften, of course. And really I only strictly needed her, but the others would help solidify my claims. I also had plans for...others...to show up. But that would come later.

First thing was first. I welcomed them and thanked them all for coming. I was met with mixed results. Most of my friends and Jarls were happy to see me. Ulfric was less than pleased and Delphine looked about ready to whip out her Blades' sword and charge the Thalmor agent. But, following my conditions, no one was armed. We all came on the equal ground.

My Keeper recommends that I record the words spoken as well as the actions. I think I shall. I begin with, "Welcome all. As you know, I am Djinn, the Dragonborn. Before I get down to the business at hand, I would like to introduce all and get each of us better acquainted."

Of course, the Thalmor interjected. "Pardon me, but we haven't got all day. You requested me personally, Dragonborn." She said my name with such disgust. Really, what have I done?! I just sneaked into her party and stole a few notes. Really, what was the biggie? "But I'm a busy mer and I have other business that is far more pressing than exchanging pleasantries with these..." she looked around that his fellow table-mates. "People."

I put on a placid smile. "Actually, Elenwen, if you read my invitation clearly, or pulled the cotton from your ears," Cicero giggled. Like how I snuck that in there? "You would've heard the Thu'um of myself and the Greybeards from high on the mountain. We were shouting to Slow Time, giving all of us ample time to discuss and visit with one another. Outside Helgen, the strands of time are moving far slower than within."

She made a derisive snort but didn't speak again.

I clapped my hands. "Now then, let's all get better acquainted, shall we? Cicero, why don't you start? Behave yourself!" I warned before he could even open his mouth.

Cicero nodded. "Oh yes, most assuredly Listener! Cicero will behave." He turned to the group. "I am Cicero, Keeper of the Night Mother and member of the Dark Brotherhood."

There were a few gasps but no one pulled anything. I nodded. "Good, good. Karliah?"

The Dunmer nodded and took off her masked hood. "I am Karliah, Nightingale. An agent of Nocturnal and a derivative of the Thieves' Guild."

Tolfdir leaned forward. "A Nightingale? I thought they were all wiped out many years ago."

"They were." She responded in even tones. "Now, all that are left are me, Brynjolf here, and Djinn."

He nodded, leaning back in his seat appreciatively.

"Elenwen..."

The Thalmor Agent, once again, was difficult. "Shouldn't we keep our identities at least somewhat of a secret?!" She demanded, slapping a hand on the table-top. "I mean honestly, are you all stupid?"

It was time to call in plan number one. I reached into my pocket and drew out a sheet of paper. It had been hanging on the door with a quill and ink, next to a warning that the castle was booby-trapped and anyone supposed to be there should write their names on the paper to gain entry. She stared at it.

"There is a very specific shout," I began, smoothing the list of names out on the table. "It's used in only the direst of times. I don't even use it very often, but in this case, I figured I had to." And so saying I Shouted, "Vaat, Kren, Aus!" The words burned into the table, seeping into the paper with a bright violet light that grew to an almost blinding radiance. Then it died down, leaving the dovahpel- the dragon writing, resting on the bottom of the page.

Arngeir immediately started fostering his objections. "Dragonborn, have we taught you nothing? The Voice is not meant to be used as an amusement as parties! It is an ancient, primal force which-"

"Arngier," I held up my hand. "Please wait. I understand this is going against your beliefs in the Way of the Voice, but this had to happen. I had to create this shout to make sure we were all safe here."

Ulfric interjected for the first time. "You...created a shout?"

I shrugged. "I am the Dragonborn." I replied, a little less-modestly than I probably could've done with.

"What did it do?" Asked Tullius, curiously. He'd probably never even seen a Shout before, let alone seen someone create a Shout.

I pointed at the letters. "Vaat, Kren, and Aus. Promise, break and suffer. This is now a binding contract, enforced by the ancient power of the voice. Saying that you made a promise and if you break it, you will suffer greatly for it. The promise, in this case, being telling anyone of the identities of people in this room or trying to kill any of the people in this room. You'll note that I added my signature at the bottom there," I pointed with a claw.

They all leaned in to view it. "So what?" The Thalmor asked. "What's some old magic going to do against us if we do break it?"

I grinned, rolling up the paper. "Oh, it's not the magic itself. It's who the magic will call upon to carry out that punishment. Even I don't know what will happen if you do break it. Then again, this is a Dragon-contract. Written on paper salvaged from the Elder Tree, where the Ancestor moths gather and the Moth priests prepare to read Elder Scrolls. Knowing that, I think you'd better not chance it."

She seemed to agree and said no more. I put the paper away and the others went around the table introducing themselves before I needed to speak again. Ulfric actually asked a question and I was required to answer.

"So, Dragonborn. Why have you brought us all here?"

I was actually zoning out, watching the sunset and didn't hear him at first. He had to repeat himself twice. "Hm? Sorry, what's that Ulfric?"

The potential High King of Skyrim growled deep in his throat and I swiftly snapped back to reality.

"Ah, yes, right. Why I've called you here." I stood up, ready to give my big speech that I'd practiced in every puddle of water I caught sight of on the road here. I cleared my throat, stood tall and elegant, opened my mouth and...

My mind went blank. Totally. Complete darkness. So I just said the first thing that came to my mind. "Skyrim is a trash heap."

A few people laughed. Some snorted. Cicero giggled and Ulfric bristled. Most just sat there looking shocked. I pushed on.

"It's a land ravaged by war, strife, death and destruction, no more so than in the past few years. Our holds have become divided, our people live in fear. The roads aren't safe to travel, people murder in the street without consequence. The real power in the holds resides not in the Jarls, but in the people. Am I right Maven?" Here I turned to the most influential woman in the Rift who nodded.

"She is right. I owe loyalty to no Jarl, only to the Rift. I run practically the whole city of Riften, from the Ratway and Thieves guild to the shops and shipping warehouses."

I let Ulfric ask the question, looking at the other citizens. "Is this true for you as well?"

They all nodded. "Yes." Said Muiri. "In Markarth, the Silverbloods own everything. They make their workers sleep in the warrens, in deplorable conditions. There are barely enough jobs to get by because practically anyone the Silverbloods don't like end up in Cindha Mind."

The others murmured their assent, and the Jarls looked stunned. "I...never knew." Admitted Laila. "I thought the thieveries were going down. Are you telling me they're actually increasing?"

Brynjolf interjected. "Miss, we aren't as bad as we're made out to be. We don't steal off of folks that can barely make it on their own. We only...redistribute wealth a little. Too much here goes there, too little here gets added to from there. We're just trying to level the playing field. It's what we're best at, and isn't that encouraged? To make what your best at your job?"

He was a smooth talker, I'll give Bryn that. In a matter of seconds, he had Laila wrapped around his little finger. "I suppose..."

Cicero cackled. "Oh yes, yes! The same goes for the Brotherhood! We don't kill unless we're told! We get a contract! Oh yes, yes! Someone only contacts us unless they wish someone dead. We are just the instrument! For the Night Mother! For Sithis!"

"It's the same thing all across the board, Ulfric," I interjected, sparing the room from the ramblings of my lovable madman. "And this goes for you too Tullius. Regardless of politics or war, we all want what's best for Skyrim, correct?"

Ulfric nodded hesitantly. "Yes. First and foremost, I am a son of Skyrim."

"That's another thing we need to get straight before we proceed." Good thing he reminded me. I picked up several thick volumes, dropping them onto the table. "These are historical accounts, just in case you don't believe me. Skyrim does not just belong to the Nords. It belonged to the Snow-elves first."

Jarl Balgruf, who was devout in his beliefs of the origins of man, jumped to 'his country's' defense. "Read your history! Skyrim is the fatherland, the birthplace of all life!"

I rolled my eyes and opened the book. "No. Humankind was born much farther north, in Atmora. They came to Skyrim and settled in the Merethic era. Read your history." I slid the book over to him. "But that's not my point. My point is, that Skyrim cannot truly belong to anyone, as long as someone else is around to contest it. And, unless all but one person in all of Skyrim is murdered, there will always be a contest. So why not concede that the land is the land. What religions practiced on it, actions performed on it and words spoken in its defense are... well...moot." I chuckled. Others weren't so happy.

"What does this mean, Djinn?" Ulfric asked. "Are we just going to let the Empire take control and tell us how to live our lives?"

I shot Tullius a look but he was simply leaning back, watching all of this. I sighed. "Ulfric, I would not presume to tell anyone how to live their lives or what gods to worship. And I would say that any who do are heretics or worse. That being said, some religions do conflict with others. And you know what I say to that?"

He shrugged. "I cannot even begin to guess."

"Let them practice somewhere else."

They were surprised, but not the Thalmor. "Oh yes, of course. Typical Nordic treatment. Don't like it, go away." She scoffed.

"Actually it's more like, you can't contend with peace and acceptance that others believe in for all religions, go practice your religion somewhere that does as you do. Really, it's simple. So many people can't be unified under one government, as your people believe Elenwen. It's just not possible. Feel free to include all that wish to participate in your ideal of a unified Nirn, but forcibly acting that way and coercing, bribing or threatening people to join your cause will not be tolerated. Once again, I would not presume to tell anyone what gods to worship. But attempting to force unity under a single banner which the people do not believe in can only end in disaster."

Tolfdir decided that it would be a good time to interject. "That is correct. In the Mages' College, there are some members who practice arts not suitable to be affiliated with the college. I speak, of course, of Necromancy and its' like. We did not originally turn necromancers away, they left after they discovered our conditions to their staying required them to practice their art somewhere secluded. We tried to include them in all our decision-making, but their views and ours conflicted too much for us to live together in harmony."

"Yes, thank you Tolfdir."

"But we are much more different than a few necromancers in a college," Elenwen argued. "We are an entire race, several races! Would you turn us away from Skyrim entirely and invite more war?"

"Did I say that?" This stubborn high-elf was starting to test my patience.

Cicero could feel it by how close we were and leaned in to whisper, "Shall a blade find her heart, Listener? Just give me the word."

I ignored him. "Elenwen, I agree that history has ruined the potential for any sort of alliance between Men and Mer. I'm afraid that's just how it was, is and might well continue to be. However, there are many Mer families scattered throughout Skyrim. Her people. And I would not ever presume to tell them to leave their homeland. No, there will be elves in Skyrim. Just...not their government."

"And what of the Empire?" Tullius asked, breaking in for the first time in a good while. I turned to face him. "Tullius, I think you and I both know there is no more Empire is Skyrim."

He looked at me for a long moment, golden eyes connecting with my dark violet. His gaze was so intense, but not burning with anger or hate. When I looked into those eyes I didn't see someone who wanted to raze Skyrim to the ground for his principles. I just saw an old man in beautiful dragon armor who looked tired.

Tulllius nodded. "Yes, I know. I have been trying to come to grips with it, ever since Vittoria was assassinated. Somehow I think I always knew..."

Cicero giggled at the mention of the killing but I shot him a look and he composed himself. There was still a little smirk playing on his face, though. He knew I still had her wedding outfit, stowed away for my own wedding. I'd been lucky the fabric was already red.

"It was business, General. Just business. The Brotherhood received a contract, and we carried it out. He died well," I added. "No blubbering or talk of bribes. I killed the man who hired me as well." I didn't mention where my payment had gone. "It's the dawning of a new age, General. Tithus knew it, Morro knew it. Astrid knew it. It was just a matter of time before something happened. Would you rather it was by my hand or some monster who would've made him bleed and weep for hours before finally allowing him the dignity to die?" My voice had gone cold and quiet. I needed to let Tullius know that what I had done had been nothing short of what needed to be done, for the future of Skyrim.

During this conversation, I had practically forgotten the presence of others in the room. Until Ulfric spoke up, that is. "What are you saying, Dragonborn? Is the Empire going to try and put us under their jackboot again?"

Vexed, I turned to face the Nord. "Ulfric, weren't you listening? There is no Empire to take control! It was splintered, cut down by an assassin's blade. So no, in a word. You won't have to deal with the Empire telling you how to live. But the same goes for you as it does for the Altmer. We will not just kick them out of Skyrim. Many Leigoneers have families here. They have people. Tullius here has two strapping boys and a wife, living in Dragonsbridge. Right Tullius?"

"Hirome and Kray. They're both seventeen winters." He added. "And I would just as soon throw down my sword and shield to live the life of a common man than raise them to protect my family."

Ulfric, who had no children, nodded his respect. "I see."

Someone coughed and the whole table turned to look at Maven Blackbriar. She coughed again, looking a little uncomfortable being the center of attention but quickly grew back into her role as leader. "Ahem. Forgive me for asking, Dragonborn-"

"Good gods Maven, we've known each other for almost eight years now, just call me Djinn. I hate it when people use my title to refer to me. The only reason I let Cicero do it is because...well... he's Cicero. Anyway, continue."

She nodded. "Ahem. Yes, Djinn. Well, I was just wondering... if the Emperor is dead... are there any who would assume the throne?" Before I could even muster up an answer, Tullius spoke.

"No. None of legal birthright, anyway. Tithus Mede the second's last family died at her wedding."

Several people looked my way. Ulfric wasn't one of them.

It looked like it was time to reveal my killer hand. "Which brings us to my next item on the list of things to discuss. Leadership."

All eyes were on me and both Ulfric and Tullius leaned in, eager to hear what I had to say. But what I said next was not to be directed at them. "Jarl Elisif."

Elisif looked up. "Yes, my Th- I mean... yes Djinn?"

I waved the slip-up aside. "Are you happy being the Jarl of Solitude?"

She blinked, a little perplexed. "Excuse me?"

I repeated the question. "Are you happy with being the Jarl of Solitude? I know you were High King Torryg's wife, and you must've seen all that he had to contend with. Would you want that for yourself?"

Ulfric was on his feet faster than any of us could blink. "You're choosing her, over me? I defeated Torryg in single combat! That is the way of our people!"

"It is not usual for a woman to ascend the throne of High King," Tolfir interjected. "I don't remember any true High Queens from Urag's histories, save Potema and Freydis."

Ulfric actually cackled at that. "Oh yes and it will be quite good for Skyrim to have another Potema on the throne!"

"I would never sink to such levels," Elisif snarled, rising to her feet with the grace and poise of a true queen. "Unlike you, murderer!"

"WILL YOU LOT SHUT UP?!" Roared Tullius. "The Dragonborn is trying to speak!"

Once again all eyes were on me, which was good. As I'd been about ready to unleash my Thu'um at them all. "Thank you, General." I nodded in his direction. "Sit down, both of you. Please. Nothing is going to be solved here by screaming at one another. Ulfric," I looked at him pointedly. "I am not appointing Elisif the High Queen. Not unless she truly feels that she can handle it, as she does have the strongest legitimate claim to it."

The stubborn Nord opened his mouth to retort but I raised a finger.

"Jarl, can you tell me, truthfully, that you would be able to contend with all that is required to become High Queen? Everything, not just hosting fancy dinner parties and parading around. Would you go to war for your people? Would you shoulder their responsibilities as your own? Would you put yourself on the line for them? Would you be willing to do whatever it took to keep your people safe and Skyrim free?"

Elisif thought about it for a few moments. Then she shook her head. "You are right, Dragonborn. I am not fit to be High Queen. It is true, I love my subjects and want what is best for them, but I am no warrior. I can protect Solitude, but not much else." She turned to Ulfric. "But know this, Ulfric Stormcloak. Should you ascend to the throne of High King, I expect you to be able to do what I cannot. You must protect Skyrim and her people, you must be free of corruption and selfish desire. And you must be true to Skyrim."

Ulfric seemed a little taken aback by the pronouncement. He blinked slowly, unable to form words and I was gladdened to see a glimmer of respect in his eyes. Finally, he nodded. "Thank you, Jarl Elisif. I still feel your husband's death was an unnecessary one, and I wish he could see you now. You are a brave, courageous woman."

Perhapse it was Mara's work, perhaps I was just seeing things but I swear, Elisif blushed. "I will be willing to offer my council," she told him. "Should you need it."

Again, Ulfric nodded. "I should very much like that."

Several of the people at the table rolled their eyes and Cicero made smoochy-smoochy noises that snapped the two out of their haze. Both sat, looking uncomfortable.

"So, that takes care of that." Three headaches down, two to do. "But she is right, Ulfric. You cannot and should not maintain that Skyrim is only for Nords. That is one of my conditions to letting you assume the throne of High King."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your conditions?"

"Of course. This is all going down because of me, and I should think it's not too much to ask for a few things in return."

"Like?"

"My interests are not solely for personal gain." I answered. "I would like to see the best results for Skyrim come out of this. That being said, I do have certain obligations to friends." I clapped my hands and the doors opened, revealing three people. My oldest and most trusted friend Serana, Isran and Aela, the Huntress. Ulfric stood, his hand gracing his hip where a dagger would've lurked, had I not Shouted for the door to disarm any walking through it.

"What is the meaning of this, Djinn? A vampire?"

I ignored him. "Serana, Isran, Aela, thank you all for coming. If there are empty seats please, take them. You are quite welcome here."

My mastery of the Voice had grown somewhat in the past few months from the pathetic (by comparison) Thu'um that had taken down Alduin. Well, I had to do something while I'd been on a month of bedrest! Reading seemed optimal, as well as practicing my Thu'um and I had learned, through careful concentration, to project not only my Thu'um, but my su'um as well. My breath itself became a weapon, whispering my will with the power of the Thu'um. I felt a little guilty about using this power on Ulfric, but no more guilty than when I used it to stop my children fighting.

Ulfric's eyes went foggy and he sat down, mumbling, "Quite welcome here." No one seemed to notice except Elisif, and after a few moments his eyes cleared. They were no longer hostile.

"Everyone, this is Serana. Yes, she is a vampire. But she will not hurt anyone here." I stood up and embraced my old friend, then Aela. "This is Aela, the Huntress. One of the Companions of Jorrvaskar. This is Isran, of the Dawnguard. Loyal to Skyrim and his cause." Everyone nodded their greetings. "Aela is a werewolf," I informed them. "One of the few who choose their gift. I was once too, but managed to cure myself. I'll come to that later. My point is, there are many issues lying underneath the skin of Skyrim which need to be remedied, if Ulfric is going to assume the throne."

"And one of these issues is the vampire menace?" Ulfric asked sardonically. "And the werewolf threat?"

Neither of my friends rose to the bait. I had told them to expect this. "Actually, no. Isran and I have already dispatched many of the wild, feral vampires that pose a threat. However, Vampires are still beings with emotion and feelings. They feel loss, hatred and pain. If I cut Serana, she bleeds. Just like the rest of us."

"You aren't actually going to cut me, are you?" Serana asked, raising an eyebrow. "Coldharbor blood is pretty valuable and I'd like to keep mine."

I laughed and socked her shoulder. "Don't worry Serana, no one is going to bleed today. Well, apart from their coffers."

One of the Jarls spoke up. Balgruf. "Dragonborn, Djinn, will you please explain what's going on? Why are these-" I glared. He gulped. "People...here?"

"They are here to illustrate what a dire situation Skyrim is in." I told Balgruf. "Several of the people in this room belong to secret factions and societies. The Blades, the Dawnguard. Nightingales, the Theives' Guild, even the Dark Brotherhood are meant to reside in the shadows. Everyone knows they're there, but they can't show their faces in the light of day for fear of being carted off to prison or just doing what they need to do to survive."

The meeting room echoed with a heavy, shocked silence as I let that sink in, only to be broken by Serana a few seconds later.

"That..." she told me firmly. "Was the absolute worst vampire pun I've ever heard."

The entire room erupted with laughter, none more so than me and Cicero. At first, he seemed a little ticked that he hadn't caught it before her, but then he lapsed into helpless giggling and me right along with him. Even Arngier chuckled.

Once the laughter died down, Ulfric spoke. "So, just exactly what is it you want from me, Dragonborn?"

I smiled. "Easy. I would like for you to publicly commend Serana here for helping to destroy a real threat to Skyrim. Namely, her father Lord Harkon."

"Harkon?" The Dawnstar Jarl, who hadn't yet spoken, asked. "That old family living in the island castle off the coast? They were vampires?"

"More like vampire royalty." Serana replied. "He was trying to use an elder scroll and my blood to block out the sun and let Vampires roam around freely, killing as they wished. We, Isran, Djinn and I, stopped him."

"And, as well as commending her as a hero of Skyrim, putting out a national decree to all vampires that, should they wish to be cured, potions of cure disease will be plentiful in all apothecaries at cheap rates. For those that wish to live among society, functioning for the benefit of all and Skyrim alike, potions will be available to substitu

"You want vampires, living among us?! Are you insane?!" This was coming from Jarl Elisif and I thought it be an apt time to let her know just who she'd been keeping in her court.

"Jarl Elisif, Vampires already live among you. They merely act as seclusive residents in the cities, preferring to keep indoors. One resides right this very moment in your court, as your wizard."

"Sybille?!" She was on her feet. "Impossible! Sybille has been in the court since before Torryg's birth! She helped raise him!"

"And she hasn't aged a bit."

"No-" Elisif cut herself off, momentarily stalled. "Wait, what?"

"Sybille hasn't aged since she came to your court. Am I right Falk?"

Falk Firebeard nodded. "It's true, Ma'me. Prisoners periodically go missing from the dungeons. The Dragonborn brought this to my attention some time ago but asked me not to intervene and treat Sybille as normal."

"You did? Why?"

"Because I thought we might have used of her later. And I was right. Sybille is a perfect example of vampires living in society. She doesn't hurt anyone besides the prisoners, whom she needs to survive. This could be the beginning of a new era!"

Isran took it upon himself to speak. "Make no mistake, while I am a friend to both Djinn and Serana, I still believe the vampires to be a blight on Skyrim. Under this contract, Djinn has promised that vampires will be allowed to seek refuge in the cities, live and act as normal humans. Agents of the Dawnguard will be posted in each of the cities, making sure than no unpleasantness happens in response. But if one so much as bites another man or mer, they forfeit our protection and they will die." "And this isn't just for Vampires," Aela interjected. "This contract involves Werewolves as well."

"Correct. We have a permanent cure for Lycanthropy and it costs us nothing. We have enchantments which will help new werewolves in their changes, people who will accept them and give them good work, and if all works out well we will have an even more thriving community!"

Ulfric thought about this for a moment, scratching his chin. "You think you can guarantee our people's freedom?"

I shrugged. "Nothing's a guarantee, Ulfric. I can only promise we'll try our best to keep everyone safe, alive and happy. Isran and the Dawnguard are good as what they do. They'll protect us. And Aela will keep an eye on the other Werewolves. Trust me, their loyalties lie with Skyrim."

He considered it for another few moments before agreeing. "Fine. I suppose it will strengthen Skyrim's moral and spirit to have more citizens and more inclusion."

"That's the spirit! Oh, and the same goes for the Guild, the Brotherhood, the Nightingales and the mages. There will be no more raids on the Ratway, no more burning of sanctuaries and no more interrogations of innocent old men who just happen to find magical artifacts. These groups are a part of Skyrim. They make up the underlying fabric of the continent's population! Without them, the cities' power would be out of balance and everything would be in turmoil."

"So we just let ourselves be robbed blind?" Demanded the Jarl of Falkreath. "Let ourselves be murdered?"

Both Cicero and Brynjolf were glaring murderously at him. I stood and addressed him calmly. "The thieves only steal to survive and keep their fellows alive. One can only use so much gold. The Brotherhood only does as they're told. In both cases, our duty to ourselves is to do the job without being caught. By being caught, we forfeit any protection we would've had and are fully subjective to the law."

"Now that hardly seems fair lass," Bryn objected.

"Hey, it's a good incentive not to get caught." I replied. "And if you've got a better way to make sure we all keep our sides of the bargain, I'd love to hear about it."

He didn't, and we both knew it.

"Well, that's that then." Ulfric muttered, ticking off on his fingers. "Vampires, werewolves, thieves and assassins legitimized. Anything else you would like, Dragonborn?"

"The legitimization of the Blades."

"The what?"

Everybody looked pretty confused, so I gestured for Delphine to stand up. "As I said before, my name is Delphine. What I neglected to mention is that I am a member of the Blades, an ancient order charged with the protection of the Dragonborn, and later with the protection of Emperors. Our primary function, however, is that of dragonslayers."

"Dragons still roam the lands," I added. "Even with Alduin gone, some still remain. I can't fight them on my own, so it is with this in mind that I propose we reinstate the Blades as official protectors of Skyrim and her people. Fund their training in Skyhaven Temple, outfit them and use their expertise to keep the holds safe."

"As dragonslayers?"

"Of course! What else?"

"Our purpose was lost for so long," Delphine told the assembled group. "But once I found the Dragonborn and she defeated Alduin, it became clear that our purpose was restored. To defeat dragons that pose a threat and protect Skyrim!"

I took an assessment of the expressions at the table. Everybody seemed fine, apart from Arngier who looked very uncomfortable with this current turn of events. I almost smacked myself. Right. Parthunaax. "Delphine, there is something I should let you know."

Delphine sat at attention.

"Just like werewolves and Vampires, there are dragons who will aid and assist us. Most dragons are mindless beasts but some, like the one who resides atop this mountain, can be spoken to and reasoned with."

"Dragonborn-"

Arngier went to interrupt but I stayed him with a raised hand. "The dragon of whom I speak is named Parthunaax and he is a very great friend to me. I also have other dragons, Odaviing and Durnvere who will not be harmed. Any other dragons will be slain only if they attack without provocation. I will train each and every one of the Blades in the dragon tongue, so that if a dragon wishes to speak or reason it can. They are not mindless beasts, they are intelligent and powerful and I will have them be treated as such. That goes for everyone," I glanced around the table. "Any objections?" Ulfric seemed pretty happy about the idea and nodded. Delphine was less pleased.

"I don't see any problem with that."

"Any of you object to having Blades in your city?"

The Jarls shook their heads.

Excellent. Things were going according to plan perfectly.

"Dragonborn, I don't agree with this aspect of your plan." Delphine told me plainly. "The dragons are a blight on this land, and they should be exterminated."

"I'm sure they say the same thing about us," I told her just as plainly. "This is non-negotiable. And if you don't like it then you can go back into exile and I will train future dragonslayers."

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I will concede. Training for a poor cause is better than sitting around on our backsides with no cause."

"Great. I'm glad that's settled. You've made a good choice. Now, Ulfric, Elisif made her choice. Now you must make yours." I picked up the Jagged Crown from where it had been resting under the table. His eyes glowed.

"Is that..."

"The High King and his Jagged Crown." I recited the old verse, smiling at the delight on his face. "I present it to you, if you will honor the conditions we have set forth. Conditions of love, peace, prosperity and joy for the whole of Skyrim."

Ulfric suddenly snapped back to reality, blinking the mistiness away from his eyes. "You...you would make me High King?"

I nodded. "If you agree to maintain these terms until your dying breath."

The man whom I had once thought to be nothing less than a racist blowhard who needed to be taken down a few pegs, nodded solemnly. "I will."

"Then rise and kneel."

He did so and I placed the crown upon his head. "Hail the new High King Ulfric Stormcloak."

The Jarls bowed their heads in reverence. "Hail High King Ulfric!"

Ulfric beamed at me and rose, pulling me into a hug. "I promise I will make Skyrim great again," he whispered into my ear. "With all her people."

"That's what I like to hear." I replied, pulling away. Elenwen was staring blankly at all of us, too confused to even muster words. "What's the matter, Elenwen? Haven't you ever seen a king being crowned?"

Elenwen's face snapped back to mine and she swallowed. "The Dominion will not allow this..." she told us hollowly. "The Empire will fall. Without their Emperor, they are like sheep. We will crush you..."

Ulfric took a step forward but I laid a hand on his shoulder. "Ulfric, sit down." He did as I asked and I walked around the table to face Elenwen. "Elenwen, the Dominion has no power here. It's time you just accepted that and moved on. Skyrim belongs to her people, not to politics or government. Those things simply keep them from strangling one another in their sleep. As for the Empire," here I shot Tullius a look. "Who's to say they don't have an emperor?"

Tullius's eyebrows shot up. "What are you saying, Djinn?"

In answer, I reached into my backpack and pulled out a set of clothes. I unbuttoned my outer tunic, casting it aside and pulling on the emperor's robes I had stolen from Tithus Mede's body. I finished it off with a simple ruby and copper crown, smoothed the front a bit and looked around. "Well? What do you lot think?"

No one spoke. I think they were pretty well dumbfounded. Then, out of the blue, Brynjolf spoke.

"I...don't think red is quite your color, lass."

A few nervous chuckles echoed around the room and Cicero cackled. "Oh no, no my fine feathered thief. Listener knows full well that she looks lovely in red!"

I glanced around at the faces, trying to gauge their thoughts. Ulfric looked ecstatic, Jarl Elisif looked proud and most of my friends had varying degrees of approval and amusement. The other Jarls and Maven just looked stunned.

Then, in the middle of the silence, Ulfric stood up and began to clap. The jarls dutifully echoed the applause dully and, once they snapped out of their varying degrees of shock, the rest of the room followed suite.

"I, for one, could think of no one more deserving to be Emperor." Ulfric proclaimed. "The Mede dynasty is at an end. As Skyrim's new day dawns, so too does a new day dawn on the Empire!"

"Here here!" Echoed Elisif.

"Long live emperor Djinn!"

"Long live the listener!" Cicero practically shrieked, clapping violently along with the rest.

I smiled, looking around the room at all the people who had supported me in my path as Dragonborn. "Thank you, thank you all. I would never have gotten this far without you, any of you. But this isn't a decision I can make by myself. All of you have to want me to be Emperor. And if you don't want me to-"

"Of course we want you to be Emperor!" The Dawnstar Jarl called.

"Who else is going to take the job?" The Jarl of Morthal added bluntly.

I didn't really have an answer for that, but things were going too well for me to continue on this actually important note. So I simply smiled. "Very well then. Very well."