Ulfric pulled out his sword and shield, bashing his shield with his sword. "Boy! You should quit now! Your youth will not spare you, though you certainly don't lack for courage." He stalked to the left like a sabre-toothed cat, trying to get behind Harry.

Harry moved to the right, having to move his shorter legs twice as fast to catch up. He was already on the defensive. Not good. "Ulfric, please. It's High King Harry to you." Bit arrogant, but I must get him angry. "King at the very least. I'm afraid I must insist."

Ulfic growled in response. The verbal challenge raised Harry's hackles and lit a fire in his werewolf blood. He growled in response, full-timbre and resounding, unnaturally deep coming from Harry's young chest. Ulfric narrowed his eyes.

Harry was smaller, but with his werewolf blood he was almost as strong as Ulfric, the supernatural disease lending him the power as well as superior smell and hearing.

Harry's blood rose, pounding in his ears. The initiative was his. Harry launched a fireball at his chest, dual casting to increase the power. Ulfric raised his shield, and it bounced harmlessly off. Enchanted, Harry thought. Ulfric's defence against magic. Problematic, but not entirely so.

He spent the next few moments in a flurry of destruction spells, testing the breadth of Ulfric's defences. No good. He couldn't make it through. Harry couldn't pull out his trump card yet, not before Ulfric pulled his. It had to be in a moment of awe, the exact moment where everyone was watching. That was the point of this public spectacle, after all.

Ulfric swung his sword in a wide arc, attempting to break his right arm with the force of the swing. Harry jumped back to avoid the hit, but stumbled in the powdered snow. Ulfric used the distraction follow up with his shield. The razored edge caught the side of Harry's face, shattering his cheekbone and carving the skin wide open. Blood ran down his cheek and over his tunic. Someone in the crowd gasped, but Harry paid them no mind. He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek where he'd bitten it, swallowing the blood. He wasn't sure if blood-soaked spit counted or not, and he didn't want to find out.

They broke apart after the fierce mêlée, both of them panting heavily. With the familiarity of training, he shoved aside the pain. With his left hand, he gathered healing energy, and he ran it across his right cheekbone. Blood smeared the palm of his hand. Thank Erandur for his insistence on practicing Restoration skills.

Harry smiled, showing his sharp fangs, his teeth stained crimson.

He glowered up at Ulfric, whose ice grey eyes seemed almost fearful. Indeed, the man had a look of panic on his face, directed at Harry's hand. Harry looked down. Blood had beaded on his fingertip, threatening to drop. Ah, I see. Harry grinned, wiggling his fingers. The drop fell in what seemed like slow motion, Ulfric's face a rictus of anger.

Harry, still showing his teeth, reached down with his werewolf speed, grabbed the drop, and froze it before it hit the snow.

"As if I'd let you lose so easily, Ulfric." Harry said. He looked over at Arngeir and raised an eyebrow. "Funny rule that. Makes you dependent almost entirely on your opponent's goodwill."

Arngeir frowned. "A loophole. I should have considered my words more carefully." He sighed. "Nonetheless, the rule stands."

"Hear that, Ulfric?" Harry said. "Now everyone can truly see you are a butcher."

Ulfric's face was as stoic as stone. "Better a butcher than a mageling that cannot fight like a true Nord. Some king," he scoffed. "Doesn't know his steel from his prick."

Harry bristled. "I'll show you armed combat," he growled, pulling out his dagger to a derisive snort from Ulfric.

"Harry," Arngeir said carefully, "Do you want to continue? Though the letter of the challenge was kept, the spirit was not."

"Master Arngeir," said Harry with a shallow nod of his head. "I'm fine. I would like nothing better than to teach this old dog a few new tricks. Manners, for one." He took a deep breath to calm himself, rolled his shoulders, opened his stance. Ulfric was turning his tactics against him. And he couldn't let that stand.

"Very well. Begin again."

And they were on each other hammer-and-tongs. Ulfric had the advantage of range, now that Harry was magickaless to a point. It would be more difficult without his strongest asset, but Harry didn't mind. The more handicaps he used to beat him, the more the man would be humiliated when it was all over.

And Harry was looking for that humiliation. Now it was personal. He couldn't use the dagger to slash, but hopefully he didn't have to. Bee stings. He had speed, and he'd built up some fairly impressive stamina. The dagger was to catch the sword blade—a last resort sort of thing. He kept his arms up, dagger out to block strikes, stayed out of reach in a flurry of fast footwork..

Each time he jumped away, it made Ulfric angrier and more prone to making mistakes. He was stronger in a berserker rage—not a true one like the orcs—but sloppy, which was exactly what Harry was aiming for.

He still managed to catch Harry again with his shield, cracking his collarbone this time with a loud snap. Idiot! Harry said to himself. He fell to the ground in pain, but he had enough awareness to roll out of the way of a kick that would have been strong enough to crack his ribs and finish him, even through his armour. Harry struggled to his knees. He chanced a quick look behind him. Harry was in the path of the open cliffs now, and Ulfric seized the opening.

"FUS RO DAH!" Harry darted out of the way, falling to the snow. Ulfric had finally made the first move, proved he couldn't defeat him without resorting to Shouting. So much for grizzled war veteran. Now was his chance.

"SU!" Harry's quick Shout of elemental fury gave his limbs speed to dart under Ulfric's guard and hit him with a rabbit punch to the throat. Ulfric staggered back, clutching his trachea. He jumped back just as quickly, keeping out of Ulfric's reach, pressing a hand to his collarbone and attempting to heal. The bone fused together with a crunch, and Harry said a few choice words under his breath. The healers would have to rebreak it later.

The talking amongst the spectators had died down. No one spoke. The silence seemed to echo in the courtyard, magnifying the slightest of sounds.

Harry paid it no mind. Ulfric had two hits. He only needed one more. Harry couldn't let that happen. But before he could make his next move, Ulfric broke the silence. "You—" he began.

Harry grinned. "Me," he agreed. "I am the Dragonborn, I am the rightful king of Skyrim, and I will not sit back and let it fall to apostasy and ruin due to a war orchestrated by the enemy." He glanced over at the crowd. "Everyone, take note." That started the whispers up again.

Ulfric was still numb with shock. "How? You are just a boy. It took years for me to—"

"I am Dragonborn," Harry repeated. "As is my half-sister and surrogate mother, Venathel. You would be aware of this if you would have let me finish my speech earlier. The gods are on my side, Ulfric Stormcloak. I do not yet see yours. Do you surrender yet?"

"A true Nord never backs down," Ulfric said, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "And you'll get yours, boy."

"Very well." Harry said, shaking his head. "It's not so easy when your opponent carries the same weapon as you do, is it?" Harry asked, pity filling his voice.

"I will not be mocked! FUS RO DAH!" Ulfric Shouted again. This time Harry couldn't dodge in time, knocking him off his feet in the snow. His head hit against the stone supports of a set of gates, but he staggered to his feet, fighting his blurry vision to get back to the ring. He hoped to Aetherius that that didn't count as a hit. It shouldn't; only direct hits counted.

It was time to end this. His jaw ached, his shoulder ached, and he was more than a little angry. Harry Shouted "ZU HAAL!" and knocked Ulfric's sword and shield from his hand with the Disarming Shout. He sheathed his dagger in one quick motion and attacked him with what little he knew of hand-to-hand. Luck was on his side, however, as it seemed Ulfric was no great master at unarmed combat either. He had a longer reach than Harry, but in his anger, Ulfric was throwing wild punches, and Harry was quick enough to dodge them. Still, Ulfric was wearing him out. He'd only get one chance for this.

"SU," Harry Shouted again when he caught his breath. Harry's vision shifted to elemental fury's quickened perception. He dashed faster than the eye could see behind Ulfric, jumping on his back, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing his fingertips under the corners of Ulfric's jaw in a blood choke.

The man scratched and scraped at Harry's arms, but he held on for his life, and kept the pressure up on Ulfric's neck. The man grabbed his shoulders and tried to sling him off, but Harry was relentless in his chokehold. The struggle increased the amount of oxygen trying to cycle through Ulfric's brain, and he fell to his knees, his arms losing strength. Harry didn't let go until he felt Ulfric go slack in his grip, and he laid the man on the ground.

Harry ran his hand through his sweat soaked hair, having long since escaped from his tie. "Well?" He said, turning to Arngeir, casting his eyes over the crowd of Jarls and their attendants. They watched him in shock, murmuring rippling through the crowd. It seemed no one had expected him to win. No one but Ven, who was smiling widely, a look of great satisfaction on her face.

The Greybeard walked over to check on Ulfric, holding a hand above his mouth to check for breath, making sure he was still alive and not in violation of the terms. "Winner. King Harry," Arngeir said quietly.

Harry sniffed, wiped some leftover blood from his lips, and spat on the ground. He raised his voice. "Anyone else want to have a go while I'm still fresh?" Silence. "No? Good." Ven handed him a restorative draught, and he downed it in one gulp, taking a deep breath. "Good."

At his feet, Ulfric stirred, clutching his head. He'd have a fierce headache for a while. Harry held out his hand. The Nord looked at it, torn. "I would not have you as my enemy, Ulfric."

"The first thing you'll do is sell us out to the Thalmor," he muttered.

"Did you ever consider, Ulfric, that this was exactly what the Thalmor wanted? The Empire losing provinces left and right? The Civil War at a standstill, constantly losing soldiers to both sides?" Harry glanced over at Ven, who inclined her head and shooed the curious crowd away by beginning a speech. "I also have it on good authority that they were funnelling supplies in order to keep it that way."

"Proof?" Ulfric asked.

"I have certain Aldmeri documents in my possession. They listed you as an asset. That's not a good thing," Harry said. "And one thing I learned early from my previous family was to pick your battles. A crusade won't do anything but wipe you out, guerrilla or not. Much better to step back for a moment, take time to think, set the battlefield to your liking." That was Ron's beginner chess advice.

"Harry?" Ulfric asked, still a bit dazed. "And Talos?"

"High King Harry," Harry corrected. "I have no plans to bow my neck to elven overlords. But first, step back, lick our wounds, gather information, build a unified army. The Civil War may be over, but the Great War isn't. Not until Tamriel is united and free to worship how they will. Remember, the Empire was Skyrim's first."

"You are an ambitious little runt, aren't you?" Ulfric said.

"King Runt, if you must. I do insist on the title. How many of Skyrim's sons and daughters are in the Legions and would jump at the chance to reclaim their home? How many have already done so in the Stormcloaks? Together, we can be so much more."

"So, finally the point emerges," Ulfric said. "You're a long-winded Breton."

"Yes," said Harry. "A partnership. Your army alongside mine." He flicked his eyes over to Ulfric and met them in a challenge. "You as an adviser to the High King."

"And if I refuse?"

"It is not honourable to kill someone right after you've spared them, and your death would make you a martyr. I could deal with that, but personally, I'd rather have your influence within my reach."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" Ulfric asked.

"You do realize that never works, right?" Harry asked. "I would prefer friends. Our goals are the same. Our methods of achieving them? Rather different."

"But you play the long game, rather than risk it all on a short gambit," Ulfric mused. "But I dislike dishonourable actions."

"Yes," Harry said again. "I play the long game. Like hiding Talos worship for a time. That is nothing, in the long run. There's another word for forthrightness in this context. They call it stupidity." And there goes his Hermione vocabulary for the day. Gods, court language was exhausting!

Ulfric sneered at the roundabout insult. "But you are a boy. You weren't there at the end of the war."

"Man enough to defeat you. And I don't have to be. That would be what you would be for. A chance to influence policy, no?" Harry said. "As opposed to an outcast and a rebel? I will remind you again we have the same goals. I, however, must be a little more—what was that word Hermione said that me and Ron needed to be?—circumspect, due to my position." Yeah, that was the word. Hermione, you'd be so proud!

"You have a point," Ulfric said slowly from his position on the ground.

"I serve the people of Skyrim first," Harry said. He held out his hand again. "Now is the time to decide."

Ulfric wavered for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Harry's hand, surprised at his ease of helping him to his feet. "Very well." He looked at him askance. "Dragonborn, huh?"

Harry showed his teeth. "Oh yes. They've yet to see my fangs or feel my breath." He raised his voice as Ven was finishing with her rambling speech. "Lords and ladies, shall we reconvene to High Hrothgar for the treaty?"

A series of murmurs and discordant sounds of assent. Harry strode forward, Ulfric and Ven at his heel. Therefore, it surprised him when Tullius matched him and spoke. "I suppose you're the one I must treat with now," General Tullius said.

"So it seems," Harry said. "But not just me. I prefer to have my fellow Jarls with me, as this does not concern only me. I look forward to a positive relationship with the Empire." Ulfric snorted. Ven kept her face blank.

Tullius chuckled. "You lack confidence, huh? Need some adults looking over your shoulder to make sure Skyrim is getting what it needs? When I was your age—"

Harry growled again, rumbling and deep, interrupting him. "Do not patronise me, Tullius," Harry said sharply. "I am High King by right of Moot and by right of victory. My age means nothing when I have already proven myself. Why? Do you think my youth implies Skyrim will bend to the Empire like a bitch in heat?"

"King Harry, I wasn't implying—"

"Then what were you implying, exactly? You and I both know this is but a pause for the Aldmeri Dominion. The Concordant is worth less than the paper on which they wrote it. It's only a matter of time before they storm the gates. 'Provincial dispute?' Please! I could do far worse for the insult you gave me and you know that. That's why you have fear in your eyes."

The old imperial worked his jaw. Harry kept his face impassive, not letting any of the triumph he felt show on his face. "That being said, I am quite willing to sit and discuss terms with you, even after the insult. Just because Skyrim will not bend does not mean we cannot find a mutually beneficial agreement to both parties."

"All right, King Harry. We'll do things your way."

They sat in the conference room of High Hrothgar, all nine Jarls plus the General, Ven, and High King Harry, debating the terms of the provincial agreement for a long time. It went well into the night, with magelight dissipating and candles burning to stubs. They had a base in the old treaties, but enough had changed that it wasn't a good fit anymore. And of course, now that he had given the Jarls an in, certain of them thought it was to be their right. Skald and Igmund were two of the worst. He had to remind them frequently and in Igmund's case, painfully with a light shock, that he was High King. If this was a taste of what ruling was, it was no small wonder Ven didn't want it. Though she would not have to deal with those that thought his youth was a weakness. He may be young and inexperienced, but he was willing to learn and confident in his ability to handle everything, and ask for help with what he didn't.

As the night wound into early morning, an exhausted Harry called for a recess. He still had to get his collarbone checked by a proper healer. "We will finish this tomorrow afternoon. We have taken up enough of Master Arngeir's time."

With that, he retreated to the special rooms the Greybeards had made up for him and Ven. She helped him out of her armour, and he helped her out of her own, leaving them both in loose tunics and leggings, perfect for sleeping in. They set both their sets on the armour stands provided.

"By the Nine, that was exhausting," Harry said, flopping bonelessly back into his bedroll. He turned to see Ven's smile. She was lying on her side on her bedroll on the other half of the room.

"Better you than me," she said. "We made a great step forward today, Harry."

"The Thalmor won't dare do something publicly now," he said.

"No, not publicly, though Julianos save you from the assassins. You've taken to your responsibilities better than I thought," she said. She came over and sat on the end of his bedroll, dragging hers along with it. She ruffled his hair. He scowled, but it was all in good fun.

"I'm not a genius like Hermione was," Harry said. Then he sighed, missing his friend. "She'd probably be better at this than I am. She was brilliant, almost a year older than me. Ron, too. He was my age, but he could beat most of the seventh years at chess."

Ven raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she said.

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, sitting up and crossing his legs.

"Tell me about them," she said. "You never really talk about them." She cast some kind of illusion spell. Harry wasn't great at them, but he figured by the deadened sound it was muffle.

He knew her spells were strong, so Harry did. He told her about Hogwarts and the magickal and mundane world. About Hermione's sharp wit, and Ron's family, and the troll attack at Halloween that had her gasping and laughing in turns. He told her about how it felt to finally have friends, about how loyal they were, about how they saved him in turn from the bewitched broom, about Neville breaking his wrist and discovering Fluffy.

"They sound like true friends," Ven murmured.

"Yeah," Harry said sleepily. "You'd like them."

"You must miss them terribly," she said.

"It's not so bad anymore, not with you here," he said. "It's almost like we really are family."

"Oh, Harry," Ven said, pulling him into a hug. Harry still tensed, but he was ready for it this time. He sagged in her arms, putting her head against his shoulder. She stroked his hair, singing a soft lullaby of nonsense words and hums. Harry laughed as he recognised the tavern Dragonborn song. He really was too old for this. And had grown older still in Skyrim. But she was trying. And he felt safe. Safer than he had felt in a long time.

Almost against his will, he felt himself relax. "You are my family," she said, laying him down on his bedroll and kissing his forehead. He wasn't Harry Potter, wizarding celebrity, or Harry the High King to her. He was her son. Just Harry.

Home, Harry thought.

He heard a thump of someone tripping in the low light over something as he was almost asleep. It sounded like a bag spilling. "Harry?" He heard Ven say.

He cracked one eye and looked over at his mum. "Yeah?" he slurred.

"Why in Aetherius do you have about 2000 septims worth of moon sugar in your pack?"

—End Arc One: Origin—

Because I've received comments about Harry/Dragonborn, I am addressing this here: Harry is eleven right now, and Ven is his mother figure. It's not happening. Romance involving Harry doesn't begin until the middle of the third arc, where he is sixteen, and he is solely interested in women. Ven will have some earlier encounters in this next arc, both male and female. As an aside, there will also be other minor het and slash background pairings. This is the second and final warning.

Also, when sex occurs for Harry, it shall be in the future when he is older and those sections won't be on FFnet. I think their rules are stupid, but I follow them. I don't do M or E violence or sex on this archive. It will happen when it happens, it will be fade-to-black here, and people will be adequately warned on Ao3 if it's not their sort of thing.