Dragonborn Rising Ch. 62

The five of them escorted me to the stables, placing my packs first before I made sure I gave each of them an extra-long hug. I didn't think I'd be gone for too long, but I was sure that, when I returned, whether as High King or not, I wouldn't have to leave again until all three of them had given birth. Mirabelle was the last to hug me, the other four giving us a moment to ourselves. Giving her a kiss, I leaned down to her ear and whispered, "If I become king, then I know I'm holding my queen."

"Are you sure?" she asked, leaning back to meet my eyes, "Politically... Elisif..."

"I don't care about politics. I'm going to marry for love. I did that the first time. I will be doing it the second and last. I have love for all my girls, Belle. I'm in love with you."

"You know I wouldn't mind being one of five or six, Ragnar. I truly mean that."

"I know."

"So you will have a wife and... mistresses. Who I will also enjoy too. How open-minded is your future wife?"

"If you ever wanted..."

"No," she stated sharply, "Because if you give them up, I do too. And I don't just mean the sex for both of us. Just having them in our lives makes everything so much better. We're going to have a household that will be a joy to live in. A lot of fun. And plenty of children to give our love to at the same time."

"Don't deserve you." That just made her smile, kissing her one final time, before I mounted up. Turning to look at them, all of them grinning, I added, "Not sure when I'll return and what my title will be. I'm sure you'll be the first to find out."

"I look forward to the coronation," Aela stated, "King Ragnar."

I groaned but chuckled at the same time, giving them a wave before I turned onto the road leading west towards Dragon Bridge. I didn't make it to Whiterun within the day, never planned on it. I'd packed camping supplies and stopped past Rorikstead, finding a small clearing away from the main road, making a small campfire before taking out my bedroll, sitting back and nibbling at a little food, sipping at a bottle of brandy.

Gazing up at the stars above, I couldn't help but think back about my life so far. Growing up in the Imperial City. My first time in the Thieves Guild. Becoming a warrior in the Fighter's Guild. The women I'd bedded during my time there. Being run out of Cyrodiil by a gang of angry husbands. Arriving in Skyrim and everything since then. The loves I'd found and lost. The adventures I'd been on. Who I'd become in the process. Saving the world more than once. I'd been a hero and a villain in the story of my life.

I'm sure even writers would look at my life and consider it nothing short of fantasy. But, still, I wouldn't change anything. Even losing Muiri, who I would love dearly until my dying breath, her loss had led me here to this moment in my life. I only wished she was still with me. I would have loved her to meet Mirabelle and all my other girls. But I knew without losing Muiri, I would likely have never met the rest, except for Haelga. Or, at least, never have formed the same bonds with them. I'm not sure if the gods plan out our lives or not, but while one or two of their choices for me might piss me off, I generally couldn't find too much to complain about.

Completing the ride the next morning, it was early afternoon when I walked into Dragonsreach. Balgruuf was delighted to see me as always, sitting down to enjoy a tankard of ale, of course discussing the Moot that was to begin in a couple of days' time. I didn't ask who he was going to decide to be High King, but we did discuss the ramifications of any decision.

"Are you staying at Breezehome?"

"Aye. No place like home."

There was still a couple of days until the Moot, waiting for the other Jarls and the Emperor to arrive. I enjoyed dinner at the Bannered Mare that evening though left early, enjoying a night to myself with a good book for company. I spent the next day wandering around Whiterun, chatting with the locals who all knew me well by now. Despite the passage of time, few lives changed much. The scars of the Stormcloak attack had faded, most of the city now rebuilt.

I rarely went to bed alone two nights in a row, and I certainly didn't that night, my eyes only for one woman in the Bannered Mare that evening. She only had eyes for me in return. We ate, drank and then we danced, though that only lasted a couple of songs before she whispered in my ear that we should definitely leave.

Ysolda had never been to my home before, we'd always gone back to hers. After the quickest tour in history, we headed upstairs, clothing was hastily removed, before I gently laid her back and lavished her body with attention before focusing on what we both really wanted. She tasted divine and made noises that suggested she loved everything I did with my tongue and fingers.

Despite the fact she enjoyed herself, and I always loved going down on a woman, the smile on her face that appeared after I slid my cock inside her suggested we were both getting what we really wanted. The easiest way to describe the next couple of hours would be to say we just fucked. It was hot and wild, and the only time we stopped was after I'd cum, as she'd keep going through her own orgasms, and she'd simply blow me to make sure I was nice and hard again before we continued.

"So, what are you here for?" she asked sometime later, now snuggled into my side.

"The Moot."

"I've heard rumours that was happening here. You're here because you're the Dragonborn?"

"Aye."

"Any idea who they'll elect as High King?"

"No idea, to be honest. Can't be Ulfric or the Jarl of Winterhold. Anyone else is a chance. Tradition suggests Elisif, but I don't think she has the support of the Jarls who backed the Empire."

"How long will you here for?"

"A few nights." I glanced her way and her face was a picture. "Yes, Ysolda, I don't sleep with anyone else when I'm here."

That made her rather happy. So happy, in fact, that she mounted me yet again, and I had the delight of her riding me nice and slowly for what felt like an hour, enjoying the feel of her soft skin under my hands, her rather firm breasts and arse, her rather passionate kisses, and the feeling of her tight, wet pussy kept me nice and hard until I couldn't resist any longer.

Sleep came quickly once we were finished again.

The Jarls began to arrive the next day. There was no real fanfare as I had a feeling the fact the Moot was being held in Whiterun hadn't been shared. The presence of Legion soldiers wasn't a particular surprise, though if one looked hard enough, you could definitely see more on the streets, and more patrols taking place around the Hold itself.

It was only when the Emperor himself arrived the day before the Moot that streets were cordoned off. The carriage couldn't be taken into the city, so even the Emperor himself had to walk through the city and climb the stairs to Dragonsreach. Crowds did form at his presence, hearing whispers that this was the first time an Emperor had set foot in Whiterun for generations.

After he passed Breezehome, I headed inside and merely waited around to be summoned to Dragonsreach. The Moot wouldn't take place right away, knowing there would be a further meeting between the Emperor and Ulfric. From rumours I'd heard, told to me by Balgruuf, of course, their first meeting had started tetchy, with some rather harsh words between the pair, but as the meeting continued, they managed to work towards common ground. Ulfric had still been defeated, and if the Emperor chose, could still be executed for treason, but there was an agreement of sorts of Windhelm surrendered, so now it was working out the details.

It was the second morning after the arrival of the Emperor that I found myself invited to Dragonsreach. Ysolda had been staying with me, noticing the guards glance past me at her, before looking back at me, desperately trying not to grin. "Tell the Jarl I just need to dress for the occasion and I'll join the others. Let's say an hour."

"Of course, Dragonborn," they replied, giving me the now usual salute before disappearing.

Ysolda stayed with me as I dressed, noting her appreciation for the finery I'd brought for the occasion. I admitted to being tempted in heading up in my armour, sword and shield, nothing but a warrior, but I figured that would give a fright to more than one housecarl. She found the idea amusing but agreed that regular clothing and no weapons would be the wise route to take.

We headed out together, though she headed home, enjoying a final embrace before I headed up the stairs to Dragonsreach. I'll admit to feeling a touch of nerves. I knew the next few hours could change my life, if what might happen was voted on. In some ways, my future wasn't in my hands. Not exactly.

I was surprised that they announced my arrival when I walked in the door. The Jarls, Emperor and housecarls all greeted me, and it seemed to be friendly, on the surface at least, though the splits were still apparent, those who had supported the Empire, those who supported the Stormcloaks to different sides. After taking an offered goblet, I simply stood to the side and observed, waiting for the Moot to begin.

As Balgruuf was hosting, he took the lead, asking everyone to approach the table and take their designated seats. The Emperor sat at one end of the long table, Balgruuf at the other, while others had designated places. I noticed that there was a mix, Ulfric sat next to the Jarl of Markarth, the Jarl of Dawnstar, who had not been replaced but, like the Jarl of Winterhold, signing a treaty and paying a tithe, next to Maven. I sat closest to Balgruuf. Food was served first. The most succulent of meats. The freshest vegetables. The sweetest of desserts. All washed down with ale, mead or spirit. Whatever one desired, it seemed.

Once our appetites were sated, Balgruuf took the lead again. I glanced at the Emperor and I was left thinking he was merely observing. I wondered if he would interfere at all. Maybe his presence would swing minds one way or the other? Or perhaps he was just interested in what would happen, regardless of the outcome?

"My fellow Jarls, I welcome you to Dragonsreach on this day and thank you for attending this Moot. It has been many decades since the last Moot was convened. There are reasons why we have had to call this, but we are not here to rake over recent history. What is important today is that we set forth our future plans. For too long, our country has been divided, brother and sister fighting each other. But now that the fighting is over, the peace now must be maintained. If anyone is concerned, the Emperor has assured me, and therefore assures you, that he is as my guest and merely as an observer. He is not here to interfere with the proceedings of this day. However, Skyrim is part of the Empire, and it is his right to be here today. The future of Skyrim is the future of the Empire.

Tradition dictates that the Jarl of Solitude also inherits the title of High King. But with the death of Torygg, and no heir to take his crown, the throne now lies empty. Many would assume that Jarl Elisif would assume the title of High Queen, but that is not how it is done. If they had issue, the child would have inherited the crown with Jarl Elisif ruling by proxy until the child was of age.

Traditions exist for a reason. However, all traditions must end at one time or another. The High King has not always been the Jarl of Solitude. We can choose to continue tradition or we can set forth a new course. The decision lies with us, my fellow Jarls. The floor is open to anyone who wishes to share their opinion and cast their vote as to who should be the new High King."

Maven wasted little time clearing her throat and rising to her feet. "My fellow Jarls, our country has, until recently, never been more divided than it has been. We could all stand here now, casting accusations about what was happening until recently, but Jarl Balgruuf is correct. We must now look to the future, repair the old wounds, and move forward as one. Our cities must be rebuilt. Trade must flourish once again. And our fighting men and women need focus on the threats externally.

Through it all, there has been one person who has been protecting Skyrim while we have been at each other's throats. I could stand here now and list his achievements, but you already know of most of them. All I know is that it is, thanks to him, that I now sit on the throne of Riften, and it is an undertaking of which I humbly accepted at the time.

There was a time when a man of the Dragon Blood resided on the throne of the Empire itself. Though those days now but a distant memory, let us remember that the first man was Tiber Septim, a brother Nord. At this table today is another man of the Dragon Blood, and a fellow Nord. Ragnar Dragonborn. It is true that tradition must dictate we vote one way or another, but I am of the firm belief that the tradition must lay to rest. Jarl Torygg has now lain dead for many years. And while we thank Jarl Elisif for her service, a new leader must be found. A new king, who will unite our lands to a common cause and led us into what we can only hope is a brighter future.

I cast my vote for Ragnar Dragonborn, future Jarl of Solitude and High King of Skyrim."

I met her eyes briefly and nodded as she sat down. I had kept my eye on Ulfric the entire time and he wasted little time rising to his feet. He was... rather magnanimous. "I stand before my fellow Jarls defeated, but unbroken. I retain no bitterness towards any of you, even the Emperor himself. I fought for an ideal I believed in the day I chose to rise up, and continue to believe in it to this day.

Though I stand here defeated, I agree with some of the words already stated. Our nation is divided and must unite again. If we are to remain part of the Empire, we must be its sword and shield. The Empire is surrounded by enemies who mean us harm. If that is so, then we need a leader who can take up the mantle, the sword, shield and flag, and lead us against this foe.

There were reasons behind all of this, and those reasons have no yet been resolved entirely. However, I have fought Ragnar Dragonborn, and he is a true warrior. And I am aware of all his deeds. I cannot vote for Jarl Elisif. I am sure you all know why. And none of the other Holds wield the power that are required to lead this great nation of ours. Therefore, I vote for Ragnar Dragonborn as High King of Skyrim." He looked across the table at me. "I am putting my trust in you, Dragonborn. I hope you continue to earn it."

I nodded my head in his direction as he sat down. Elisif wasted little time adding her voice, rising to her feet straight away. "I loved my husband and I love my country. And while I loved my people, I wish to also exercise correct judgement when it comes to my own position. I arrived at this Moot aware there was a chance a decision would be made, and from the casting of the first two votes, I will stand before my fellow Jarls now and state that I will not vote, though if I did, my vote would be for Ragnar Dragonborn. Instead, to help ease the process that is bound to follow, I will abdicate the throne of Solitude and hope to see it filled by someone that will have the majority of support."

Elisif met my eyes and gave me a sad smile. Convention be damned, I leaned across and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. I was relieved when she squeezed back. As soon as she sat down, everyone stood and applauded such a magnanimous gesture. Even Ulfric showed his respect for it. Once everyone sat down, the rest stood up and spoke, explaining their reasons for whoever they voted.

Jarl Idgrod of Morthal voted for Ragnar Dragonborn, primarily in thanks for protecting her city from the vampire menace. Jarl Igmund of Markarth voted for Ragnar Dragonborn, primarily in thanks for protecting his city from the Forsworn threat. Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath voted for himself. That earned plenty of snorts of derision, one or two whispered comments about the 'arrogant young fool'. Jarl Skald of Dawnstar wanted to vote for Ulfric, but when that was denied, even Ulfric explaining that the vote could not be counted, he abstained. When Jarl Korir of Winterhold voted for Ragnar Dragonborn, that certainly earned a few surprised glances, until he explained that my time with the College had ended with our saving of Winterhold from the Thalmor threat within.

And though his vote was not particularly necessary, Jarl Balgruud talked for a good ten minutes before he proudly announced that he would vote for me too. "My fellow Jarls and Emperor, I believe that the votes are as follows. For Ragnar Dragonborn, the Holds of the Rift, Eastmarch, Hjaalmarch, the Rift, Winterhold and Whiterun. For Jarl Siddgerir, the Hold of Falkreath. There was no vote from Haafingar due to the abdication of Jarl Elisif, and Jarl Skald of the Pale abstained. Does anyone disagree?" There was a sea of shaken heads. "Your Majesty, I do believe the Jarls of Skyrim have elected their new High King."

"Indeed you have. Jarl Elisif, your abdication will require an Imperial decree and would need to be signed."

"I will do so whenever required, Your Majesty."

"Very well. Ragnar Dragonborn, the Jarls of Skyrim have voted. Do you accept their decision? Will you accept the position as Jarl of Solitude and High King of Skyrim?"

I rose to my feet, making sure I met the eye of each Jarl and the Emperor before I replied. "Thank you for honouring me with all your kind words. When I first entered Skyrim all those years ago, I would never have believed I would find myself here, at this moment, standing before you with the vote of a Moot suggesting I become High King. And, of course, I graciously accept your votes. I would consider it the greatest honour to become High King and lead Skyrim into what I can only hope would be a brighter future. I will admit that power of this kind is something I have never sought. For those of you who know me, I live in Solitude now, but as an ordinary citizen.

All of you have spoken of the divisions and conflict that has led us to this point in our joined history. I can only assure you that I will work with each and every one of your as a partner going forward. We must all work together to ensure the wounds are healed, the divisions between us are eradicated, and that we all work together under the guidance of our Emperor towards a better tomorrow.

Jarl Elisif, I thank you for your graciousness today. To give up a Jarldom is no small decision, and I hope that you will remain within the court of Solitude, to impart your wisdom and provide guidance, particularly in the early days of my rule."

"Of course, Ragnar," she replied softly, a slight smile on her face. Guess I was saying the right things.

I dipped my head. "You all my thanks for the vote today and I only hope I will prove worthy of your faith in the days, months and years ahead."

Taking a seat, the Emperor rose to his and gave a small speech, thanking the Jarls for coming together peacefully and he approved of the selection. Not that it was required, but I figure gaining his approval would help relations between Skyrim and the Emperor. Once he'd given his small speech, Balgruuf stood up, asked if there were any other matters. When no-one said anything, he stated the Moot was now closed.

Once that was the case, all I could ask was, "So, um, when is the coronation?"

"We'll organise that once you return to Solitude, Dragonborn. You will need to become Jarl of Solitude and High King of Skyrim. Your fellow Jarls will need to attend to swear fealty. You will then need to do the same with the Emperor. After that, the crown is yours to do with as you wish," Balgruuf replied.

While the rest of the Jarls chose to stay at Dragonsreach for the evening, I wasn't Jarl or High King yet, so I returned to Breezehome. Of course, I didn't do so alone, escorted by a pair of guards. I wanted to tell them I didn't exactly need protecting, but they were just doing their jobs. I'd been home only a few minutes when there was a knock on the door, opening it to see Ysolda behind the two guards.