Father
There it was.
How could he forget it?
As a child, he would reach up to grab it as he sat in his father's lap, eager to wear it proudly and regally like Father did. Ulfric would always laugh every time his son tried to grab it off his head and would plant an approving kiss on the toddler's cheek. He remembered looking up at Father in admiration because he looked mighty and powerful, two things he wanted to be.
Those days swiftly disappeared as the child grew up. He became a well-known womanizer in their tribe and was forever being chastised by Father. He wasn't turning out to be the man Father wanted him to be. One night, they had argued and he had stormed off.
Unbeknownst to him, this was the last time they would ever speak again.
"And this?" queried Eric as he looked closer at the crown.
"Just some random tribal crown" answered Talbot.
It's more than that you whiny little bitch.
"Uh this one's Asythian, I think"
His grip on the crown tightened as his face twisted with rage.
"Viking"