AUTHORS NOTE: Thank you for clicking- ive put an obnoxious amount of time and thought into putting this together over the course of almost two years now, studying the lore and geography and obsessing over every detail and description so that i could produce something different than what other fanfiction writers publish- My goal is to bring the story of the Dragonborn to life in a way that the videogame couldnt, and maybe even make you forget that your reading a fanfiction along the way. That being said, im grateful for every view, and i would LOVE for you to leave feedback and constructive criticism as you go...and if its not to much to ask, stay with me passed the first chapter- i swear it gets better as you go. Read the reviews...aight. buh bye!

Call to Valor Prologue by J N Petersen

When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.

-Cersie Lannister

George R.R. Martin's "Game Of Thrones"

4E 201

High King Torygg, son of the late king Istlod, rubbed his right temple as he starred down at the members of his council with tired eyes, his head beginning to ache. Idly, he adjusted the heavy gold and ruby encrusted circlet that served as his crown on his brow, turning it this way and that in an effort to ease some of the discomfort it had caused since his coronation, when the Jarls had first placed it there.

The Imperial General- and appointed Governor of Skyrim, Tullius- ascended one of the two marble staircases that allowed access to the throne room from the reception hall below, his posture stiff and his features stern as he approached. He had arrived in Skyrim shortly before the moot, and had stayed to witness the new high King sign the thirty year old treaty between the Empire and the third Aldmeri Dominion- and Torygg had yet to see the man crack so much as a smile.

"Your Highness." Tullius addressed him formally as he stood at a respectful distance, giving him a surly bow.

"Rise, General- you may approach. What news have you brought?" He asked the older man seriously, trying for all the world to look as regal as his new status demanded of him in the presence of the Emperors appointed military Governor- at twenty three years of age, he felt great pressure to measure up to the expectations of his people, making him self conscious during council meetings and public appearances. Tullius though, was a man passed his prime, with short cropped dusty grey hair and tanned, leathery skin that was creased at the eyes and brow from years of discipline and experience- Torygg knew though, that despite the mans age, he was still able bodied beneath his splendid ruby encrusted golden armor. He had demonstrated his prowess many times, participating daily in the rigorous training regimen he had imposed upon his legionnaires, besting the younger soldiers under his command regularly as he did so.

"I have received word from one of my retainers in Windhelm, that Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak has called his banners and is gathering an army- He has yet to formally declare war, but the citizens whisper of rebellion..." Absently, Torygg stroked his thick auburn vandike with his thumb and forefinger as he considered the information.

"Aye," He retorted, annoyed yet unsurprised. "Ulfric spoke out at the moot, calling for secession from the Empire. He believes the terms of the treaty to be unjust- and I would have to agree with him on that." Torygg told the General boldly, shifting his position in his throne and searching the older mans steely eyes- If Tullius took offense to his opinions, he showed no sign of it, maintaining his usual mask of disciplined indifference.

"Never the less, he views you to be a traitor now that you have added your signature to the concordat." The general responded quickly, not missing a beat. " I would move to double the palace watch, and garrison the remaining soldiers within the prominent holds to discourage anyone who might be thinking of joining this...Rebellion." His features tightened as he spoke the word, and Torygg wondered if the measures Tullius sought to impose within his own keep werent also meant to keep him in line as well.

"What about security at the Castle Dour?" He asked the older man pointedly, watching him carefully as he did so. "Shouldnt you also fortify your own defenses in the event of an attack?"

"Castle Dour is the stronghold of the Empires Military presence in Skyrim- If the men there cant hold it, than they arnt worth the steel they wield." He retorted with absolute confidence. Torygg nodded, slightly peeved by Tullius's blatant lack of concern for his own men. "Besides- only a fool would attempt a siege on the Capital- we are surrounded on all sides by water and traitorous mountains- and Fort Hraggstad is less than two hours ride to the north."

"Very well, do what you will." Torygg acquiesced blandly, dismissing the general with a wave of his hand. Pleased, he gave the king another stiff bow, before turning on his booted heels to descend the steps, marching back the way he had came- As soon as the heavy wooden doors had slammed shut behind him, the court erupted into a cacophony of argument as the members of his council debated the implications of Ulfric's actions, and discussed the possible ramifications the war hero's words would have should they reach the ears of the other Jarl's. If war was inevitable, they would need to double labor forces in the steel mines, and thousands of weapons and sets of armor would need to be forged to outfit the Emperors Legion- as well as Torygg's own bannermen. Unfortunately, His coffers were already depleted, and he loathed to think of the debt he would owe the Emperor in the event of a Civil War- one that would be fought for the Emperor's own sake, at that.

Frustrated, Torygg stood from his seat on the deceivingly uncomfortable throne, and excused himself wordlessly as he made a quick retreat from the room toward the sanctuary of the kings courters- the grand suite once occupied by his own father and mother- where he knew his queen awaited him.

. . .

Upon entering the room he shared with his new wife, Torygg strode without pause across the floor to the balcony adjacent to their large feather bed, so he might look out over the city of Solitude- his city now- as the sun began to set on the horizon beyond the distant stone walls of Castle Dour.

The Imperial castle that housed Tullius and his legion had been built directly across the city, facing his families ancestral home- The Blue palace that now served as the seat of power within Skyrim's capital in Haalfingar hold. Doubtless it had been positioned intentionally just so, so that Skyrims own nobility would be reminded that it stood in the shadow of the great Empire.

The crown continued to weigh heavy as Torygg struggled internally with his own views, and what he knew was best for his kingdom- and soon the urge to throw the damned thing was threatening to overwhelm him. Quietly coming to stand beside her new husband and king, Elisif placed a delicate hand on his cheek, silently urging him look down at her as she looked up at him.

"What vex's my king?" She asked him in her soft, musical voice as her eyes conveyed a warmth that seemed to melt his heart each time he looked into their honeyed depths- She was known among Skyrims aristocracy as Elisif the fair- and though she was as beautiful as the godess Dibella herself- with honey gold eyes fringed by impossibly long lashes, delicately arching eyebrows other girls preened endlessly to achieve, and soft full lips that beckoned to be kissed- it was her deeper qualities that had made him love her in the short year he had come to know her.

Torygg's father, the late king Istlod had arranged their marriage, but with his death their marriage had been postponed until after the moot that had named him the rightful monarch. It was she- Elisif- who had been his strength and his safe haven as his advisers and officers argued around him, whispering in his ear and pressuring him to make seemingly impossible decisions- decisions he knew could have lasting impacts on his people, and would forever color their perception of him and his house.

He looked down at her with sad, tired eyes and smiled as he covered her small hand with his, holding it to his face.

"As soon as this crown was placed upon my head, it has felt as if the weight of mundus has been hefted upon my shoulders." He told her gently, letting his free hand wrap around her waist so he might pull her closer- her curves were soft against the hard muscles of his own heavily trained body, and the warmth of her brought him comfort as his thumb circled the flesh of her hip affectionately from over her silkin gown.

Elisif turned in her husbands embrace to look at him directly, reaching up on her toes to remove the heavy jeweled circlet that was the object of his discomfort- The setting sun highlighted the reds within his soft auburn locks, and as she starred up into his kind green eyes, her love for him made her heart ache inside for his plight.

"Speak to me then," She beseeched him softly. "Let me help you shoulder the burden."

Torygg searched the depths of those honeyed eyes as he tucked a lock of her own strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, seeing only Mara's love within them as she awaited his reply- she had no ulterior motive, no hidden agenda or desire to twist his mind as others did- purely wishing only to sooth his internal reverie.

He kissed her then, bending down to press his lips firmly to hers, thanking the divines for gifting him with a partner so true even as he searched for the words to explain the turmoil within his mind.

"As you know, Some of the Jarls think that we should secede from the Empire," He began, moving away from her as he re entered the sprawling sweet that served as the Kings courters. It smelled of honeysuckle oil and jasmine- like her. He inhaled deeply, hoping her sweet aroma would quell his unease as he spoke.

"You mean Ulfric Stormcloak think's so." She commented derisively as she followed him in, rolling her eyes at the thought of the narcissistic Jarl of Windhelm- Ulfric had become somewhat of a fanatic after his imprisonment at the hands of the Aldmeri Dominion, and after his fathers death he had become increasingly unstable- She had even herd rumors at court that he was gathering an army to revolt against the empire, contesting her husbands own authority as High King.

Torygg ignored her comment, not sure if he was pleased or disconcerted with her knowledge of such things- the last thing he wanted was for his dear wife to worry herself over matters he himself should be in control of, when she should be thinking only about their future together and the many children they would raise.

"The people cry out in anger as their right to worship has been taken from them- but my council continues to advise against secession. The master of coin says we cannot afford it, and my Thane's are adamant that we cannot win against the third Aldmeri Dominion- which i am inclined to agree- and even if i was to declare independence, the Empire's presence has been built so strong within our borders that it would be a small thing to simply retake it."

Torygg shook his head, as if trying to shake away his frustration at his own inept behavior- for he had spent nearly a month deigning to make his own political views and intentions known as the sons and daughters of Skyrim protested in the streets of the capital and Ulfric called for action- whatever was said of the man, Torygg respected him for the role he played in the Great War, and couldnt help but feel disappointed that he had earned his contempt.

"Oblivion take the master of coin and your Thane's," Elisif declared passionately as he faced away from her. " You are the High King- by divine right, your opinion is the only one that matters- not theirs, not the general's, not your stewards, and especially not Ulfric Stormcloak's."

The broad shouldered, wide chested nord king turned back to her then, smiling softly at the determined set of her jaw as she looked up at him unflinchingly from below her lashes- making her appear fierce despite her small stature as the light from the setting sun shone from behind her, bathing her in an Aetherial golden light. Much to her despair, that smile fell away as he replied.

"Tiber septim labored hard to forge the Empire into something that would last for thousands of years...On one hand, i am loath to be the first to tear apart his legacy- but can i allow the Thalmore to corrupt my land and opress my people? Do i lead the citizens of Skyrim into a war that they cannot hope to win? Or is banning the worship of one god a small price to pay for peace?"

The people already doubted him, naming him "the puppet king" within the privacy of their own homes- was that to be his legacy?

"Am I to be remembered by the histories as the king who bowed to the Thalmor?" He asked her, desperate for an answer as he searched her eyes, closing the distance between them once more as his hands found hers.

Elisif looked up at him unflinchingly, wishing for all of mundus that she had the answers he saught- but she didnt, so she settled for giving him words of encouragement, so that he might find peace to get the rest he needed to face tomorrow.

"No matter how you are remembered, know that i love you, and will stand beside you for the rest of your count of days- no matter what you decide...You will always be a hero to my eyes."

Torygg had kissed his queen then, taking her into his arms and carrying her to their bed as he had upon their wedding night, where they once more made love as the sun dipped below the horizon and gave way to the moons that illuminated the night, bathing Solitude their pale blue glow.

Elisif never felt more complete than when her husband moved inside her, and as she cried out her release, her insides tightened around his member, coaxing his own orgasm from him and filling her womb with his seed as he held her tight, groaning before letting himself fall beside her upon the feather matress.

"Divines be praised!" He exclaimed as he struggled to catch his breath and the weight of his exhaustion turned his limbs to jelly.

"No," She told him as she rolled over to place her head against his heart, so that she might fall asleep to its rhythmic thumping. " Leave the divines out of our bed- here it is just you and me." She told him as she closed her eyes.

Torygg wrapped an arm around her to resume his affectionate caressing of her skin as he yawned, the other hand stroking her hair gently until his breathing became deep and even as he succumbed to sleep. Elisif sighed then, breathing in the familiar scent of the man she loved- and in that moment, everything was perfect in her world. If she had only one desire, it would simply be to remain there in his arms for the rest of eternity.-

. . .

. . .

Riften was a city situated in the southeastern corner of Skyrim, within the hold known as "the rift", at the eastern end of the lake called Honrich. surrounded by sprawling, beautiful forests that seemed to swallow up the village despite its size, most of the city actually spilled over the waters of the lake itself, having been built upon large wooden piers that were bisected by a large canal that served to give cargo boats access for trade- though less and less traders seemed to be coming through those days.

Due to its geography, the weather was often overcast, and the frequent rains fed the greenery around Riften, resulting in thick wonderous foliage that clung to the wooden structures in the form of thick moss and climbing vines that wound around the wooden planks and up the sides of its many wooden huts. The villages visitors often thought it to look run down and impoverished, but the locals enjoyed the closeness to nature, and saw its beauty as a blessing from the Godess Dibella- knowing full well that the city was anything but poor.

It was the 10th of suns height- merchants day- and the many merchants of Riftin rose early to set up their shops and stalls in preparation for the rush of customers they would receive for the holiday, reducing the prices of their wares by near half. For the pourer citizens of Skyrim, it was the one day of the year that finer items were priced within their budget, and they stood a chance at acquiring desired goods- but, not without struggle; crowds gathered early to rush to their favorite shops in hopes of being the first to peruse the selections, and fights had been known to break out over particular items.

On an ordinary day, Riften was alive with the hustle and bustle of provincial life- despite the dip in trade via the waterways, it still had a strong economy fueled by hard working fishermen, local merchants and prestigious mead makers- making merchants day one of Riftens most anticipated annual holidays, as well as giving shop keepers an opportunity to clear out some of the lesser selling items in their inventories to make way for newer items of intrigue.

Idrissa, a local street rat turned nightengale, wound her way through the throng of shoppers in the market place, smiling as she made her way toward her mentor's own market stall, listening to the sound of an indignant customer protest against his prices as she approached.

" 500 septims?" She overheard a middle aged dunmer protesting rather loudly as she approached. "Thats the same price it was last week!"

"Nay- I raised the price only yesterday after having it appraised." The vendor- Brinjolf- lied smoothly, trying to appear sincere. "As it happens, its worth 1000 septims- Id have been a fool to let it go so cheap! But, since it is merchants day..."

"You-you...you robber!" The elf blustered angrily, face turning red as a vein in his temple throbbed and he clenched his fists tightly at his sides.

"Hey- there's no need to be unpleasant." Brinjolf exclaimed, feigning a sense of indignancy. " If you dont like my prices, feel free to visit some of the other shops- they might have some goods better suited to your budget."

Huffing indignantly, the mer straightened out his worn out, sweat stained belted tunic and stomped off toward another stall, allowing Idrissa to take the place he had previously occupied at the counter, grinning broadly as she did so.

"500 septims for a ring?" She asked incredulously, raising a brow and giving her adoptive father- and mentor- a small smirk.

"The band is gold, and the sapphire is of pure quality." He told her defensively, without shame. "I must turn a profit, after all- whoever thought of this whole "merchants day" thing must have been soft in the head!"

"Come on, you and I both know you didnt pay a single septim for that ring- or a single thing you have on offer here for that matter." The items in question that were displayed so innocently upon the table had in fact been stolen, making every coin he had made off of them pure profit. Brinjolf chuckled, brown eyes sparkling with pride as she regarded his daughter.

"Aye lass, but they dont know that." He told her, referring to the crowd of competitive shoppers bustling around them as he gave her soiled work gown a critical look. " I wish you didnt feel the need to dirty your hands at the forge- We have plenty of coin, and anything you might need or want is within your ability to get..." Idrissa looked down at her worn blue gown and soot stained apron, furrowing her brows as she smoothed out the wrinkles with her dirty hands.

"Weve talked about this before- Petty thievery is beneath me now." She told him seriously, reciting the same words she had used the last time he had broached the subject. " There is a sense of accomplishment that comes with hard work, and someday i want to look about me and feel proud knowing that i earned what is mine..."

After ridding the guild of their traitorous leader, Mercer Frey, and being inducted into the old and secretive order of the Nightengales, it seemed as if the excitement and romance of the thieves guild had gone from her. She no longer took pride in fulfilling a contract, and there was little sense of accomplishment in pilfering jewels or coins from unsuspecting nobles- not after the excitement of their short lived adventure chasing down Mercer and retrieving and returning the Daedric Prince Nocturnal's skeleton key back to her shrine- It had opened her eyes to a whole new world beyond the wooden gates of Riften, and given her a thirst for adventure in the great wide...well, somewhere.

"If you wish to get your hands dirty and spend your days sweating before a forge, I'll not try to persuade you otherwise- Im proud of you- but i wish you would see that there is more than one way to "earn"."

"Do not worry Pa," She retorted, using the affectionate paternal title she had assigned to him so long ago after he had saved her from the villages local Honor Hall Orphanage. " I wont be a Blacksmith's apprentice forever- It is just a temporary means to an end."

"I hope you are not implying that you still plan to leave Riftin- You have yet to even see your eighteenth name day. There is talk of rebellion and Dragons...If you cannot continue with the guild, than why not settle down with a nice man here at home?" Even as the words left his mouth, Binjolf could scarce believe he had spoke them himself- while it was true he loved her as his own, he had never thought of himself as a true father, but every time she spoke of leaving he became fearful, and while he couldnt imagine a man putting his hands on her in any way, it was still a preferable thought as apposed to imagining her being accosted by briggands on the roads of Skyrim, where he could not intervene.

"You know as well as any other that i am perfectly capable of protecting myself," She told him, trying to keep her indignation out of her tone. " So many people die in the same corners of the world where they are born, never seeing anything of the word beyond...I dont want that to be me."

"Perhaps i shouldhave thought better before getting you all of those novels when you were younger..." He muttered, feeling a sinking feeling in his gut- he had often brought her story books when returning to the honeyside hut where they resided, after completing a contract. She had read everything from the epic tales of The Tongues, to the adventures of Ysgramor and his companions- her favorite tale being of the archmage Shalidor, who built winterhold, the laberythian within the ruins of the ancient capital of Bromjunaar, as well as the mage sanctuary of Eyveah...Brinjolf had never imagined that the dusty old tomes would ignite a hunger for adventure within her that would only grow in its intensity as she got older...

She was about to retort with something smart, but they were interrupted by a Breton woman in fine robes of green and red, embroidered in gold and trimmed with fur, who wished to peruse his wares.

"We will continue this discussion later." He told her pointedly as she stepped aside to allow the woman a better view of his inventory. Rolling her eyes and heaving a small sigh, she nodded and gave him a strained parting smile before she turned to disappear into the throng of competitive shoppers.

Feeling restless, Idrissa found herself heading toward eastern Dryside- the less crowded portion of the city toward the shoreline of lake Honrich, where the temple of the Godess, Mara, was located. Mara was the godess of love to the people of Tamriel, and it was within her temple that those who wished to marry would go to recite their vows and engage in the binding ceremony of marriage- the air seemed fresher there, smelling more of lakewater, dirt and incents rather than fish, smoke and stagnant canal water, and she inhaled it gratefully.

Starring up into the blank eyes of the moss covered godess, she shook her head discontentedly before continuing up the stone steps and entering into her inner sanctum. Inside, the temple was dark and smelled of flowers, lit only by the candles and lit sconces at the end of the center isle where the alter stood before another statue of the Aedra's likeness.

Idrissa had never truely believed in the Aedra or Daedra before her quest to return the skeleton key, but it was hard to deny their existence after being in the presence of the physical manifestation of the Prince Nocturnal herself- and if Lady luck herself truly existed, then it wouldnt be a stretch to believe that the others existed as well, though, she wasnt sure what exactly she was doing before the statue of Mara's likeness. her discontent and restlessness had nothing to do with love.

"Can i help you, child?" A voice behind her asked kindly. Idrissa turned to see the local preistess regarding her with a soft expectant expression. She was the wife of the temple's main preist, a Dunmer woman named Dinya Balu. If she had not been of slight build and short stature- and very pregnant- her ashen features and blood red eyes wouldhave been unsettling to most, but for the residents of Riften, they had come to respect her genuine personality and soft spoken nature.

"I doubt it- Im not looking to get married."

Dinya stepped forward to join Idrissa before the alter as she looked up into the perceived eyes of the statue, her empathetic nature allowing her to feel the restlessness and dissatisfaction rolling off of the young woman before her.

"Mara's domain encompasses the emotions we strive the most to embrace; love, compassion and understanding- sometimes its difficult to appreciate her gifts in times of strife, but you should consider her light a beacon in the storm. Her warmth can see you through." She promised, her hands cradling her swollen abdomen as she looked down at the child within her womb. Idrissa looked to the curiosity growing within the mer womans womb as well, wondering if that wasnt more inexplicable proof of the Gods right before her eyes- Dinya's husband, Maramal, was a Redgaurd. relationships between man and mer werent uncommon throughout Tamriel, but it was rare for such a union to yield offspring. No doubt she had prayed relentlessly for such a miracle to occur.

"I was always told that mara didnt approve of interracial relationships." Idrissa stated, immediately regretting it for fear that she would seem rude, rather than curious.

"no, not at all...Mara believes that the spark of union comes from inside us, not from our appearance. These lies are spun through prejudice, and are meant to discourage relations outside our race- that is not love." She told her matter of factly, her expression guarded.

"My apologies if my words seemed forward- i meant no offense." She told the mer shyly, face heating up as it had when she had been a child caught doing a bad deed.

"And i have taken none," She assured her with another warm smile. " Take some time to say a prayer- Lady Mara will provide you with strength and guidance in the wake of your troubles."

" How will i hear her guidance if she will not speak?"

Dinya balu seemed to consider her answer before she gave it, fixing Idrissa with a motherly expression. "Some things you hear with your ears- others, you hear with your heart." And with that, the priestess waddled off to continue her duties, leaving Idrissa to her thoughts, and allowing her the privacy she may need to pray.

And pray she did, before leaving the temple to return to the hut she shared with Brinjolf. There, she gathered her things and waited for darkness to fall before donning her nightengale armor, leaving a note for her family, and setting off into the night.

. . .

. . .

Ch 1 Kingsbane Preview

Ulfric Stormcloak stood before the throne of Solitude, where the young High King sat gripping the arms of his throne tightly as he regarded the famed " Bear of Markarth". He had heard countless stories of Ulfrics endeavors throughout his youth, and respected him greatly for the role he had played in the last great war- yet, as he stood before him, Torygg got the sinking feeling, that his respect was not reciprocated by the bold Jarl of Windhelm... The man starred up at him with an icy, determined expression as his three retainers flanked him firmly on either side.

"Jarl Ulfric," He addressed the older man formally, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my court?"