First of all, thank you to everyone that helped with the birthday story! You know who you are, and I've Pm messaged you. To those guys who wanted to do it, but couldn't, also, thank you.

In addition, I just wanted to thank you guys for the massive amount of reviewing that you guys did. So, again, brilliant. Also very cool to see lots of 'veterans' return to review, so cheers! Have a drink! I was given plenty for my birthday.

The thanks; To Blade Agent99, thanks for all the reviews. I like being spammed with them; not only are they fun to read, but they increase the review count, so cheers. The Sheograth thing really freaked me out, but it was very funny, so nice one. Sorry about the mistake and I'm also really pleased with the progression and how you liked it. You're analysis was pretty damn good; is Jon turning into Alduin? Hmmm. An interesting question, that one. To be fair, Jon never really considered himself over Balgruuf, but being a hero is technically up there with a King. Still, some great stuff there. Guess we'll see what happens. I also liked the Delphine and Paarthy story. Weird, but… connected. You were perfectly on tiem with the birthday congratulations, so thanks. To shamesh, thanks for the Story Favourite and Story Follower! To Delphine hater, thanks for the review! I' really pleased you liked and great insight into Jon's inner conflicts. It was really cool and great to read. You were right on tie with the birthday congratulations, so thank you!

The reviews were great this time, and there were loads, so thanks! Really, it was amazing!

And unrelated, I'm hoping Jennifer Lawrence will win the Oscar tomorrow. I mean, she was in a movie that wasn't boring and she's hot, so that should be enough.

… And she's a good actress, but that doesn't really matter. Any ideas on what you want to win tomorrow at the Oscars?

A little slow, this one, but Thorek returns next time and we all know how… unslow, he can be. Thanks again.

Idgrod, the Younger

Idgrod Ravencrone II stared out of her window, as the riders set off. She sighed, and traced her finger along her windowsill. It came up dusty. Her mind wandered back to the dream she had had earlier so vivid, as always.

Riders in the dark, the fires appearing under her window. Like before, the dream stopped just as they were about to dismount, leaving her frustrated, despite the cold fear that travelled down her spine at the sight of them. That had melted away to be replaced by the silver dragon. This time, gold shimmered off its scales, possibly from the armour of the men that surrounded it. They stepped forward, ready to finish it off, but then it opened its eyes and roared. Idgrod had woken in a hot sweat, though she was sure that wasn't possible. Even so, it felt like she had been hit by the dragon's fire. Breathing heavily, Idgrod had sat by the window, waiting for the dreams to leave her. But they didn't. And that found her here, watching the empty square of Morthal, back to the dull life it offered. She missed Thorek. His fire, as uncouth as it was, had been exciting and liberating. She hadn't felt so constrained, and if there was one thing she hated, it was constraint.

It was early morning and Idgrod needed to get out so she pushed away from the window, taking the steps two at a time into the main hall of Highmoon Hall. Her mother was sitting on her throne, staring into the middle distance. She snapped her attention to her daughter as soon as she entered the room.

'Are you going to see Djurien today?'

'Maybe,' the Younger mumbled.

Mother pursed her lips. 'Things are about to change rapidly, my daughter. You will need to be ready for the worse.'

'Spare me,' Idgrod said, turning away, suddenly angry when Mother started pressuring her.

'Idgrod!' her mother snapped. 'Listen to me. While Father is away fighting in Balgruuf's war, you will need to be careful. Keep Djurien close; you will need him far more than you expect. I also want you to look after Joric.'

Idgrod bit her lip, concerned. Joric was her thirteen year old younger brother, and sickly. He couldn't control the visions the Ravencrone's were prone to have. He entered the room now, his black hair messy and unkempt, looking paler and thinner than he had been the last time Idgrod had seen him. With a sharp stab of guilt she realised that she had hardly thought of him since she had left for Whiterun.

Joric Ravencrone turned his deep green eyes on her. They were dazzling, and scary. They looked as if they had seen a thousand years, with thin trails of gold that tore apart the dark, murky green. But his face was happy, and he smiled. 'Hello, sister.' Joric seemed more mature than when she had left him before the court at Whiterun. Recently, since returning, Idgrod had looked in on him, but not as well as she should have. That was going to change. Ravencrone put on a big smile.

'Hey, little bro. How was your sleep?' She gave him a big hug, to try and remove the feelings of being trapped between two unstoppable forces that were her mother, and now, unsettlingly, Joric.

'Fine, I guess. When I actually managed to get to sleep, that is,' he said with a depressed edge.

Idgrod eyed her mother. 'I'm going to see Djurien. Do you want to come?'

Joric shrugged and mother leant forward. 'Shall I get Carl Gorm to go with you?'

Gorm was Mother's Housecarl, a big brute of a man, uncommonly skilled with his greatsword and axe. Idgrod shook her head; he unnerved her, and besides, Djurien would be good enough to protect them.

Idgrod ushered her brother from the hall, pulling two thin, fur-lined cloaks off the wall and wrapping him in it tenderly. With bemused surprise, Idgrod realised that Joric was near as tall as her, with a lanky build. His thin face didn't give off the impression of strength though, so she put an arm around him and drew him close. Joric tried to pull away.

'What is it?' Idgrod asked, a little hurt as they stepped along the street.

He looked around furtively. 'I don't want to be seen being mollycoddled by my sister,' he mumbled.

His reaction was so funny that Idgrod started laughing. 'No, of course not! What was I thinking? You know, when I was younger, I hated it everytime Mother took my hand when touring the estates.'

'She never took my hand,' Joric commented, not at all jealous.

'Must have been because I'm her "little girl".'

'You're going to be the Jarl though. Of course Mother is going to be protective.'

'I don't think it's quite like that,' Idgrod replied quickly, lengthening her stride. Joric matched it though.

'I do. You know, Mother is so obsessive with you because she wants you to be a good Jarl. She believes in you, and you should too. Both in yourself, and her.'

Idgrod stopped walking, her brow furrowing. 'How do you know this?'

'I see things,' Joric replied, giving her a pensive look.

The Younger only had to glance at his eyes to agree. I bet you do…

Instead she said; 'I'll treat Mother with more respect then from now on.'

'That's all I ask,' Joric told his sister, before walking again. Idgrod followed him with an amused expression. Here he is, giving me advice now. How the times have changed. That said, she was till unsure as to how exactly she was going to deal with Mother in the future.

Idgrod glanced around the town to distract herself and wrapped her arm around Joric again. 'I wouldn't worry about being seen with your big sister.' Her eyes scanned the houses and road, and she frowned. 'There are few enough people around now.'

Joric nodded. 'The war will be the death of Morthal.' He jerked his head lightly in the direction of the mill, the sole source of income for the town, as they exited the town from across the bridge. 'I don't know how they plan to keep the town going, especially after Mother had to pay so much to raise the banners.'

'We'll be fine,' Idgrod assured him. 'This isn't the first time that Morthal has been to war. It'll be you leading our banners soon, you know. You'll be mighty.'

Joric looked unsure. 'Mighty, and dead. War doesn't suit me. You'll be Jarl; why don't you lead the banners?'

'I'm female,' she said with a twist of her mouth. 'There are very few women in war.'

Her brother shrugged. 'I don't think it makes a difference. You can lift a sword, can't you?'

Idgrod frowned. 'Of course I can.'

'Then you can fight,' Joric said simply.

'Maybe. I think you'll find there is a lot more to it than that.'

Joric nodded, acknowledging her point but he disagreed. 'I don't think so. As a leader, you must set an example. It only has to be a sword in your hand, at the front, to inspire your men.'

Idgrod just looked at him, deciding how to respond, eventually deciding just to treat it like a playful remark so she ruffled his hair. 'I think I should just pass the title to you.'

'I don't want to be Jarl. I wouldn't make a good one.'

'Why not? You could do it,' Idgrod urged.

Joric shrugged non-committal. 'Maybe.'

Idgrod saved him the awkwardness and changed the topic. 'You could help out with the mill later then. It'll give the people hope.'

'They'll want word of the war.'

'Then give it to them,' Idgrod told him. But now she was distracted. It was true what Joric said; he would never be Jarl, most likely. In Skyrim, there was no male prerogative; all children were equal in the line of succession. That said, it was a stupid idea to expect the Nords, the warrior race, to hold to this principle. It was custom, but most Thanes and Jarls chose their eldest son as their heir, but dared not push it further, onto the second son, for example. If Mother didn't favour Idgrod so strongly, it wouldn't be so unlikely that Joric would become Jarl after her death. The King was saved this 'struggle'; his sons came before, as dictated by the need to have a 'strong leader' on the throne. Apparently, girls didn't fit that bill.

They finally reached Djurien's farm, just as the sun was reaching its peak. It was a warm spring day, for Skyrim, and the crops shone in the new sun. Idgrod sighed, stopping outside the boundaries, one hand on Joric's shoulder. This was going to be rough. She could see Djurien now. On her approach, he looked up, and leaned on his hoe, watching her with dark eyes. He had grown out his blond hair, so now it reached to his shoulders, lightly curly.

'Idgrod and Joric Ravencrone,' he muttered. 'I haven't seen you in a while.' Without warning he rushed forward, lifting Idgrod and spinning her. Despite herself, the Younger let out a giggle and kicked him, completely caught off guard with pleasant surprise. He dropped her with a grin. 'How are you, Joric?' he asked her brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'It's good to see you out of bed.'

Her brother shrugged. 'I'm fine. Bored though.'

'No longer, I think. Follow me.' He led them back into the house and through a door into his bedroom, as if the last few months had never happened. Idgrod hadn't told him of Thorek, and he was obviously willing to give her space since her return from Whiterun and she loved him for that. His bedroom was fairly small, but there was an elaborate chest in one corner, which he rummaged around in, finally pulling something out with a triumphant cry. With a flourish he turned around, presenting Joric with a sword.

'A tourney blade,' her brother said unnecessarily.

'Right. I'm going to teach you to fight.'

Joric glanced at Idgrod. 'I'm not sure that it's a good idea-'

The Younger looked at Djurien, pleased. Her brother needed to learn eventually, and he might even enjoy it. 'Nonsense,' she exclaimed. 'I think it's a brilliant idea. Here, we'll take it into the woods. You still have my bow, Djurien?'

He put on a look of mock affront. 'Naturally. Here.' He fished it out of his chest and handed it to Idgrod. The wood felt unfamiliar under her hand, but good, and welcome.

'Let's go,' she said, leading them out. Djurien grabbed his own proper sword, and a tourney one.

'You'll enjoy it, Joric. It's a precise skill, but impressive, and exhilarating,' Djurien said as they made their way across the field.

For his part, her brother looked a little sick.

It wasn't that far to the forest, and then they were among the trees, their sheltered blanket. Idgrod breathed in the fresh air, taking a look around while Djurien made his way up to a clearing, surrounded by fallen trees. 'This will do,' he announced, sticking his tourney sword in the ground before glancing around, his eyes sharp. He always did that when they entered the wood. Idgrod took a seat on one of the fallen trees so that she could watch Joric.

Djurien came up to her brother, pulling him into the centre, before starting to instruct him on the grip. Idgrod watched with an amused expression, drinking in the sounds and smells of the forest, enjoying the way it seemed to fill her up. The wind stirred her hair lightly, and she let out a breath. Djurien and Joric started fighting, lightly, with the former calling out instructions. Idgrod decided it was time to catch up with the Carl's son, and forget about Thorek.

'How is your Carlhood going?'

Djurien blocked a clumsy swing from Joric. 'Good. I was actually hoping to be inducted soon.'

'Really? Why aren't you fighting in the war?'

He looked round at her. 'Father left. I had to stay and watch the farm. In truth, I was waiting for you to return.' He parried a swing to his head.

Idgrod looked away to hide her blushing. 'Is that so?' The ring of steel echoed throughout the clearing.

'It is,' he agreed. 'Higher,' he told Joric, before addressing her again. 'I think I will be Carl Djurien soon, which is good.'

Idgrod nodded absently, her mind caught up on another new problem. What would happen if he did go off to war? She would be left alone, again. The thought soured her mood.

'Left, Joric. Yes, good. And then, good.' Djurien stepped back, appraising her brother. 'Idgrod, did you know how good a fighter your brother is?'

She shook her head. 'What do you mean?'

'His technique is clumsy at best, as is to be expected, but the boy can just seem to predict my every move. It's a rare talent.' Idgrod shared a look with Joric. A rare talent…

'Okay, let's make this harder then. I'll attack, Joric. You just try and guard yourself.' Her brother nodded and Djurien stepped forward, swinging for his head, side and foot in rapid succession. Joric's parries were bad, any real fighter could have knocked them aside, but sure enough he checked all of Djurien's light strikes. The future Carl stepped back, bemused. 'Very good. Okay, let's give it a rest.'

'Did you bring any food?' Idgrod asked.

'No,' Djurien said. 'I forgot.'

'Right, well, we'll just have to make do with nothing.'

'Very funny.' He sat heavily and looked around. Joric was holding his sword, watching it carefully. 'It's a special thing; your first blade,' Djurien said him. 'You'd need a proper one, really, but I don't think Jarl Idgrod would object if you asked nicely.'

'You don't know our mother,' the Younger joked, resting her hands on the bark. Suddenly, a noise caught her attention; voices. She hushed Djurien quickly and turned, slowly creeping forward, away from the clearing, curious. The voices were getting louder; one was deep, the other higher, but both male. A rustle behind her made Idgrod whirl round, only to see Djurien there, his blade drawn. Joric stood behind him. Ravencrone shot them a look, but they stayed, so she continued forward, coming up behind a tree. The voices were just a few metres forward. They were lucky that they were so engrossed in their conversation and that the tree line was so thick, otherwise they might have noticed them.

'We need to do it soon,' the first voice said.

'I know, I know. We'll have to move quickly.'

'Why can't we just strike now?'

'The King needs Sorli to be ready for when it happens. We must be careful. If we're caught, it will mean both our deaths.'

'Murdering the Jarl. A hanging offence?'

'Hung, drawn and quartered, actually.'

Idgrod hardly heard the rest though. Murdering the Jarl. Mother… She turned to Djurien, aghast. He gave her a grim look, and edged forward, but she held him back, feeling weak in the knees. They had no idea who was behind there; it could be two trained fighters for all they knew, or more. Joric wasn't ready, and she was next to useless in this situation so Djurien sank back, while Idgrod continued to listen with growing dread as the men plotted to kill the Jarl of Morthal, her mother. The wind rustled lightly.

Hmmm. Please review and the next one should be good.