Hullo, everybody! Back to Marrick's POV. I hope you enjoy; don't be afraid to inbox me! Please R&R and I hope you enjoy! -LR

"Yeah?" I snarl, "What else?"

I've never been so heated in all my living life.

I sat in the Solitude hole for three whole days before the Queen got around to seeing me.

"What do you mean, what else?" Elisif scoffs. She stands on the other side of the room, even though my cage lies between us. We aren't alone, either. Her scribe stands before me, where he's been marking off all the crimes I've confessed to as Elisif reads them to me. She shrugs. "Is there some other criminal offense I've forgotten?"

If I could just get two seconds of time to strangle you. . .

"You're really gonna make me say it," I mutter. She can't hide her small grin. "My base-birth," I sigh, shaking my head. "It en't in the list of my 'criminal offenses', as you so tidily put it."

"Base-birth, what base-birth?" She cocks her head, as if it's empty and she's naive. "Who said anything about trying you for base-birth?"

My brows pull in as I study her carefully.

"What are you playing at here?"

A thin smile crosses her face, "Leave us," she tells the scribe. He obeys.

Elisif draws closer to the bars and sighs, exasperated.

"Oh, calm down, won't you," she shrugs. "Base-birth? Straight-birth? Such trivial matters." She shakes her golden head. "Nobody has to know it, you see," she says. "If you were to confess your straight-birth, no one need try you for anything."

"And why the fuck would I vomit out such an outrageous lie?"

"Lie?" She scoffs again. "You have a lot of nerve, for someone of your circumstances."

I smirk, "For a bastard, you mean? Or, for his bastard?"

She struggles with that for a few moments before deciding to ignore it.

"I am offering you a chance here, Marrick. A chance to renounce the lies surrounding your birth, and give the people order."

"Order, maybe," I shrug. "But, not the right order." She huffs, as if I'm some child, being difficult, set in wanting my own way. She huffs, as if I'm in the wrong. "The only lie here, Elisif, is the one you want me to tell. I am Torygg's son." She flinches. "There's no escaping that."

We lock gazes in s battle of wills before she relents. She eyes the thick stack of parchment that is my record and brandishes it.

"This. . . this is enough to kill you, you know." I'm silent. Been wondering when she'd bring it up. "First offences, accidents, those we usually let go with a fine." She shrugs, "There are accounts of your being a Dark Brother. There are accounts of your association with the Thieves." Elisif half-laughs, shaking her head. "There's no way out for you, boy. Take this chance; don't be a fool. You can live a moral life."

I can't hold in my laughter.

"Moral, hn? When it'd all be based on the biggest lie of all?"

"Lie, truth- call it what you will," she argues. "Renounce it, and I will wipe your slate clean. All your crimes, in all of Skyrim- gone. Forever. We could kill you off in a death transcript. Give you a new name; a fresh start. . . " She comes a little closer. "I know you've been a help to the people of Whiterun. I know that you have helped to keep the peace with her refugees. Do this thing, and in addition to your fresh start, you will be so richly rewarded that a future will be ensured for all of them."

A silence follows her words, her bribe, and I use it to study her.

The thief of my father.

"Rewarded?"

She nods slowly, "Your weight in gold, fifty times over."

"Twenty times over," I echo. "My weight in gold."

"You and so many others could live in comfort, for the rest of their children's children's lives. Think about it," she whispers. "Don't be a fool."

I take this all in, and nod carefully.

"A fool."

She gives a sharp half-laugh, "Well? Do you agree? Or, will you simply sit there, repeating everything I say?"

I glance at her, take her in. I smile.

"I never wanted to be his kid. You know that?" I shake my head. "Never. Came with too much bullshit. I spent my whole life, hating that man. Hating how he's in me; how he'll always be in me." I shake my head, chuckling as I study my palms. "Now, here I am, twenty-nine years later, faced with the chance to be rid of him, forever. And, now. . ." I close my hands in to fists, and raise my head to look her in the eyes, "And, now. . . I can't do it." I let the words sink in; let her brow contort and her face twist up like saltwater taffy on Freddas nights. "I can't do it. I won't do it. I don't have a right to."

Elisif the Not-so-Fair eyes me, her face full of contempt.

"You would challenge me," he snarls, "You would challenge my claim to the throne, just to spite me."

"When were you ever a part of the equation? I would challenge your claim because it is my right."

Elisif is not like me, in her anger.

She's calm and composed, watching me in the darkness, hands folded neatly in her lap.

"You want to go to war with me, boy," she whispers, "We can go to war. But, remember when you poised for the chopping block: you had a choice in your fate."

She walks off, leaving me alone in the darkness.

"You're right," I murmur to myself, grinning. "I do."

To take my mind off the dark, I think of my woman and my son. Mostly my woman.

I think of the night she spent in a jail, just like this one, in Windhelm. How she faced her fate, fearlessly, knowing that she was innocent. Knowing that I thought she was betraying me.

It would be a lie to say that I didn't understand how it could hurt me so deeply.

I knew I loved her; had known it for a while. She didn't love me, though.

I knew that, too.

Even when we stayed with the Greybeards, even when I'd made my first move on her, I knew she didn't. I was so affected. My blood was up and I trembled to touch her. My dick ached like nothing else, and my heart was in my throat and out of commission.

When I checked her reaction. . . she was into it, aye. But, she didn't love me.

It was as if even though everything had changed for me, nothing at all had changed for Rontu.

It hurt me.

And, it hurt me especially, when I found out she was to be whipped.

It wasn't even that she was going to use me, I didn't give a fuck about that. If I wasn't her first choice for a man, I didn't mind being her first choice for an out. At least she knew that she could depend on me; that was one step closer to being who I wanted to be to her.

I could do that.

I could be her slave, if it meant someday being her man.

No, what hurt was that she hadn't told me. She was going to use me without a word, like my concern wasn't good enough for her. Like it wouldn't mean anything to me, that I couldn't protect her. That was when I realized it.

It wasn't that she was outright ignoring how I felt. It was that she didn't see it at all.

Nine lashes. Nine from Galmar Stone-Fist. . .

Aye, that hurt. It really fucking did.

I couldn't get it out of my mind, not even the next morning. Tried to convince myself that she must have known how I felt; there must have been a moment. Then, I remembered. I remembered the cave, going after the Horn. We had something then, I could feel it. I saw it in her awe at my words, as if no one had ever told her how amazing she is. Then again, maybe no one had. She wasn't indifferent then. And, maybe it wasn't love, but it was definitely a start. I could have kissed her then.

I should have kissed her.

She knew all the time, that she could take the whip. She knew all the time that she wouldn't let me bear her wounds.

I've never run faster in my life.

I followed the crowd to the Windhelm courtyard, and there she was. It was like seeing her for the first time. Her longshirt was torn from her, hanging in rags from her waist. In spite of it all, her chin was high and stubborn and proud; she didn't waver. Her breasts and her tattoos were exposed almost defiantly for all to see, and in spite of the situation, I remember thinking that there was never such a goddess as her.

She turned her face up to the winter sky, and she took a deep breath.

I was standing between her and the lash before she let it go.

The invisibility potion didn't last as long as I expected, but that was alright. By the time it wore off, I'd already taken all the nine. Her jailor hadn't been wrong; Galmar Stone-Fist had a rare talent in regard to ripping flesh from bone. I lost so much blood by the end, that I was delirious.

Not so delirious, however, to miss it when she screamed for me. When she hollered for them to release her to me. When she ripped from her bonds and crushed me to her, uncaring of her nakedness and muttering my name over and over like a prayer.

Maybe she didn't love me then.

But, it was a start.

I think of Elisif, and my fate. Of the chopping block she promised me, and the woman and child I'd be leaving behind.

"She can't kill me," I tell myself. "I won't let her."

My blood is literally boiling in my veins as we stare each other down: the Queen and I. Her court is exploding around us, from the Thanes filling up the hall from the spiral staircases behind me, to the slummers spilling out of the Blue Palace doors. She sits on her throne as I hold audience before her, in chains. It's as if only she and I exist; my father's son and his widow.

Her frigid beauty has endured the years.

Golden hair frames that austere, ever-judgemental face. Eyes as blue and as cold as the Sea of Ghosts. She's dressed in ruby red and gold, jewels adorning her arms and neck; jewels framing her face.

Jewels that should have been my mother's.

But because she wasn't gently born; because Elisif was the respectable choice, it was the one he made. The one I could never forgive him for.

"I admit to all of my transgressions; every crime!" I shout over the din. "But first and foremost, let it be known that my offenses could never amount to those of the Hagraven you call Queen."

The court explodes.

"Apologize for your insolence!" barks her steward. "Apologize to your Queen!"

I recoil, face twisted, "My Queen?" My gaze collides hard with hers. "That en't her. That en't anybody's Queen."

The crowd around us roars their objections, but again, they don't exist; it's just me and her.

She raises a calm hand and they quiet down.

"Let's return to the question at hand," she suggests. "The list of his offenses, Steward. Continue it."

"If it please you," he says, with a nod. "Fraud. Embezzlement. Piracy. Thievery. Armed thievery. Attempted thievery-"

"Husband thievery?" I offer. "No, no, no. Son thievery. Heir thievery?"

Her steward ignores me, "Resisting arrest. Whore mongering."

"Oh, but I guess you'd say it's just my father in me."

He gets louder: "Impersonating a Thane."

"You didn't mind it when you wanted me to pretend to be your kid."

Her steward is shocked into a dumbfounded silence, and the rest of onlookers with him. All at once, the court explodes, both the rich and the poor screaming for two different justices- Elisif's and mine.

"Order!" she shrieks out "Order!"

"Order?" I seethe. "How can you expect order when you, when this city, when this whole fucking country is out of it?"

"Silence, you!"

I raise to my feet.

"You would sell us. You would sell us to the highest bidder to keep your scrawny ass in that throne. It's all you know, and yet you understand jack shit about it."

She bristles uncomfortably.

"What I know-"

"What you know is exactly this: it en't cute to be de-throned. You couldn't stand it when my mother queened his heart over you, and you can't fucking stand it now with Ulfric! You'd see the Dominion in power, first."

"Order!"

"Do you see her? Do you see her, as I always have?" I raise a shackled wrist, trembling in my rage. "She troubled my mother to death. She brutalized her with reasonless evictions, with thugs, with ostracizing rumors, and worst of all, it was because my mother had two things she never could."

"SHUT UP!"

"One, was my father's love. Two, was his rightful son and heir." An anguished cry rips from her throat, and she seems to sink deeper into her seat. "So, if you charge me, it won't be with Stray-King, no. No, it won't be with the alias my mother gave me." I whirl around to face the court, all of hell in my gaze. "My name is Marrick Toryggson, and I am the son of the King." I pause to jerk back my sleeve. "His blood runs through these veins!"

"Take him!" she shrieks. "I want him out; take him out!"

"You all remember!" I turn my back on her worshippers and face the city's people. "You remember the fear we lived in." I shake my head fiercely. "For too long, we've been under the thumb of these Jarls- uncaring. Inconstant. Letting us go cold and hungry and worse while they gorge themselves on our taxes. By right, they are our servants! The servants of the people, not the masters. Skyrim belongs to the people!"

"Shut him up!"

But, no one can. All, even her honor guard, are in rapture.

"Don't stand idly by, while they teach your children, and your children's children to live as slaves to High Elven whips! Strike your chains, Brothers!" I bellow. "This country is yours; you have to claim that!" I cast a glance backward, at the Queen, and I shake my head. "She wouldn't know how to rule you. How could she? She's known privilege all her life. It en't her family, going with less and less, living as people oughtn't and dying even worse."

"Lies! He's a coward and liar!"

"Just last night, before speaking to you, she begged me- tried to bribe me to renounce my birth!" The crowd is outraged with me, for me. "That's right, she tried to protect her own bullshit claim."

"Guilty!" Elisif shrieks, "Execute him! Execute him!"

"You stupid bitch," I half-laugh. "You can't kill me. Not then, and most certainly not now."

"Oh?" she sneers, "And what's to stop me? Your mother?" She scoffs laughingly, "Your father? The Divines?"

I shake my head.

"The Dragonborn."

"Friends in high places, indeed. Could you please- when you next see the Dragonborn- let him know that we've some need of him?" The court explodes into laughter. "Incompetent boy. The Dragonborn? He's been dead five years, if ever he lived at all."

I chuckle softly.

Then I start to laugh.

Then I start to howl, shaking in mirth.

"Oh, he en't dead, my would-be Queen. And, he does indeed exist." I raise my head, arrogantly. My eyes are sardonic and mocking. My smile is both knowing and telling; I've found him- I've found that me again. "In fact, you're looking at him."

The court hushes like a child at the coax of its mother.

"You-" stammers Elisif. "You. . . You're saying-"

I grin, "I'm saying, I'm him. He's me." My spine straightens and I stretch my arms out wide. "I am the Dragonborn."