"Alright, court in order".
The words of a great man rumbled throughout Dragonsreach, the only other sound being the clinking of various dishes and cups as the "hero" of Tamriel traipsed over one of the great tables of the hall. He'd stop him, but Balgruuf was more worried about the Dragonborn shouting his soul from his body.
"Um…", said the accused on his knees in front of Balgruuf. "I'm the only one here". "Not true", Balgruuf stuck a thumb out to the dragon skull behind him, Proventus being stuck in the maw and fully conscious, courtesy of the Dragonborn, who wasn't too pleased when his status was doubted by the man. The worst part was that the Dragonborn had used a sword crafted by Adrianne Avenicci, Proventus' daughter. If only he had listened after the Dragonborn had shouted all of the silverware away...
"And Farengar's over there looking at that useless-ass tablet", the Dragonborn pointed out. "But he's not even participating!", Nazeem shouted, almost rising from his knees. "Shut the hell up!", Dragonborn shouted as he jumped to the other table, pacing again. "You're always talking about the Cloud District, well here we are motherfucker!"
"You can't do this!", he cried. "Where are the guards, they won't stand for this!" "Them?", Dragonborn laughed. "I sent them on a hunt for a sweet roll I put in a dragon's nest. They won't be coming back!" Dragonborn jumped down from the table, walked over to Nazeem, and crouched down next to him. He could see the sweat running down his face.
As for Nazeem, he could see nothing past that dragonbone helm. Nothing except those burning orange eyes, staring into his, boring a hole into his mind. "I have a secret, you know", the Dragonborn whispered directly into his ear. "You wanna know what it is?" If Nazeem shook his head, the Dragonborn didn't seem to care, and Nazeem was too afraid to register if he had shaken his head or not.
"I turned your wife into the sweetroll, Nazeem". Nazeem gasped, and he was sure he saw the Dragonborn smile behind that accursed helm. "How?", he whispered, beginning to shake. Shakes turned to whimpers when the Dragonborn held out a black staff, and Nazeem was sure that the face carved at the top was laughing at his misery.
"Maaagic", the Dragonborn explained, then abruptly stood, pointing at Nazeem. "As Thane of Whiterun, I sentence this man to death for not letting me steal his clothes while in open market, with respect".
Balgruuf sighed, placing his face in his palm, adjusting the seat on his throne. The Dragonborn had asked for many ridiculous things over the years he'd known him. A free house, his own legion of guards, a lifetime's supply of sweetrolls, but this was too much. "Homie, I am saying that right, correct?" This new "hip" language Dragonborn was making everyone learn added to that ridiculous list. Dragonborn nodded, "Yeah, homes". "Homie, you cannot sentence this man to death for this act. It is unjust, and quite frankly ridiculous".
"What's unjust and ridiculous is that I've saved this world three times and haven't gotten a single reward!" He had a point there. "Just let me have this one, man". It hadn't been easy for the Dragonborn either. He'd killed, what? Alduin, an ancient dragon that wanted to devour everyone's souls? Harkon, a crazy vampire lord who wanted to blot out the sun? Miraak, a dragon priest (and dragonborn) that wanted to brainwash everyone? If that didn't get him immunity over the law, nothing would.
Finally, the Jarl relaxed. Mostly out of fear. "Fine", he sighed, "do as you wish". "Sweet!", the Dragonborn exclaimed. Almost immediately, the Dragonborn equipped a weapon none other than the Mace of Molag Bal. Nazeem couldn't describe the black mace, other than by the twisted spines and the wicked faces carved into the sides, mostly due to the fact that the mace was bashed into his face, sending his body sprawling into the fire pit.
Balgruuf watched in horror as Nazeem burned, his screams echoing throughout the hall, not noticing the purple energy flowing from his body to a book that the Dragonborn was holding. "I have a confession to make", Dragonborn announced, tossing the book at the Jarl, who caught it flawlessly. "I needed a sacrifice and I chose Nazeem because the dick was just so condescending".
Balgruuf eyed the book, noticing the black, frayed edges and the strange symbol in the middle; an orange, dimpled ball with two black, curving lines at each side, one straight line in the middle, and a fourth line cutting across the three. It was the title, however, that intrigued him the most. "The Book of Ball?", he read, glancing at the Dragonborn, who shrugged. "Molag Bal", he corrected.
"Yeah, it turns out that being his champion and a vampire lord can get you some pretty cool shit from the guy. Like that book, it does something pretty trill if you read it". "I don't know…" "Dude, seriously?" I just fed it a soul for nothing is what you're telling me". "Fine!", he snapped. "I'll read your godforsaken book, damn you!"
Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached for the book cover, grasping to edge, and beginning to- "Wait wait wait!", Dragonborn shouted. "I almost forgot, if some of those guards come back can I have them? We're running out of food at Castle Volkihar". "Don't care", Balgruuf deadpanned, opening the book.
And then all hell broke loose as Balgruuf screamed, orange energy enveloping him. The hall shook as tendrils of light shot past the Dragonborn, and like a flash, it was all gone. All that was left in the throne was Balgruuf. "Ye gods…", the Dragonborn, who was not one to be surprised, gushed.