A thick blanket of snow lay across the plains of Eastmarch. The river bank loomed over by the city of Windhelm was undisturbed, all but for two sets of childrens footsteps that soon became a mess of crushed snow. The trail led to two young pre teens playing. One with medium length golden hair and a thick northern accent for his age, and the other of the same build but light black hair and a slightly darker complexion. His voice was northern too, but sometimes the Imperial voice of his mother would weave its way into his words. The two brothers were mock-fighting with sticks, giving swift swings at the air taking down imagined foe after foe. The blonde boy shouted while heroically standing before his brother, "Look out Emperor Lucian! A dragon!" He shouted mythic sounding gibberish and jumped in the air spinning, his stick with him before landing on his ass. Lucian laughed at his brothers fall and shouted his own gibberish and said "Quick before he flies away!" The two boys yelled battle cries in a flurry of swings until they both fell back into the snow exhausted. "That was fun, but next time i wanna be the Emperor!" Lucian panted and laughed to his brother, "But Blades are cooler! They have really cool armour."
The two boys loved playing Dragonborn. They had heard the stories of terrific heroes who conquered dragons and fought alongside brave warriors called Blades. They played many games together. Sometimes fighting Elves or other times exploring ruins of the ancient Dwemer. But Dragonborn was their favourite. They lay there catching their breath looking up at the city when on the battlements of the bridge above them appeared the Thane. "Masters Lucian, and Ulfric! Your father Jarl Stormcloak requests your presence and made sure to note it is very urgent."
The two boys hopped up from the snow and made their way up the river bank and through the main gate to the Stone Quarter. Ulfric nudged his brother, "Race you to the Palace of Kings!" and he took off. Lucian bolted a second after. His brother had strength over him, sure. But not speed. He sped to catch Ulfric then matched his pace. He stuck is tongue out and raced off up the steps and past the Guards almost ploughing straight into him. He called out after him, "What's the matter? Someone steal your Sweetroll?"
When Ulfric got to the Palace doors Lucian was leaning against one with a teasing smile. "Oh shut up." His voice got very northern when agitated. Then again, when wasn't something annoying him?
When the boys arrived they could see their father on his Throne. Beside him stood his wife, Ulfrics mother. She had a look colder than the wind on the Throat of the World. Standing in a circle were 4 men in dark grey robes with cowls covering their faces. From what Lucian could tell they were old, as he could see one of their great bushy beards was as grey as stone.
The Jarl beckoned his sons to come sit on his lap. When they sat he spoke to them both. "Boys, I have some news for you. It may be difficult to accept at first but please, hear me." The brothers shot each other a look, then back to their father. "Ulfric. Our guests here are very revered people. They are called 'The Greybeards'. You already know of the tales of using Shouts? Well they are the Masters of what is called the Thu'um, or shout. They believe you possess the capability to learn the ways of the Thu'um with ease, and so they have requested you return to High Hrothgar with them immediately to begin your studies. I know this is hard but –"
"Hard? I would love it father! Just like the Legendary Dragonborn!" Ulfric was ecstatic; he was going to really learn to shout. "Wait. W-what about Lucian? Is he not coming too?"
"...I'm sorry boys. Lucian... It is time for you to return home. I have decided that your mother should get to raise you."
Lucian jumped from his father's lap. "No! I can't go back there, THIS is my home father!" His eyes were misty. He looked over to Ulfrics mother, brandishing a smug look of triumph. "It was you, wasn't it? Father is sending Ulfric away for study so you feel even sending his other son away!"
Ulfric stepped down and stood by his brother. "I'm not going if he has to be sent away!" The Jarl got off from his Throne, and before his court the Jarl of Windhelm himself dropped to his knees on the dusty stone. Not as a leader, but as a father. "Boys. I love you with all of my heart. You may only share my blood, but it is MY blood you share. You are Stormcloaks. You will find each other again one day. Ulfric, as the oldest and therefore my heir you will sit on the Throne behind me one day. It will be in your power to grant Lucian access back to this great city once more. But for now this is the way it must be." The Jarl embraced his sons and kissed them both on the head.
The next morning two carriages awaited the Stormcloak Brothers. One to go south to Cyrodil. The other was to travel to Iverstead in Skyrim, from there Ulfric was to walk up 7,000 steps to the High Hrothgar Palace alone. The boys gave each other a long hug, and Ulfric promised to teach his brother everything he was about to learn. With that they departed. The next time they would see each other they would be on a cart to a town named Helgen, unaware of who sat in their company, and unaware of what was to come..