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Chapter Text

Like many of Jon Snow’s adventures it started with a dream.

Jon stands at the base of a giant wall of ice. The cold winds bite his cheeks like shards of glass, his raven locks scatter in every direction. The wall reaches so high it seems to rest among the clouds. Before long the beautiful sight gives way to darkness.

He now stands in a snow-covered forest, three figures running for their lives. He watches as these men in black are hunted down by moving corpses, much like the draugr of the Nordic Ruins. He is frozen, unable to help, as all but one of the men are slaughtered. One of these dark creatures walks slowly to the lone brother, and before Jon can see his fate, darkness comes again.

He realizes after a moment that he is flying. He is looking down at a snow-covered field that seems to go on forever. Then he sees them, The Others, horrors right out of Old Nan’s stories. A vast army of dead, as far as the eye can see. There are too many to count, hundreds of thousands of dead men covered the field below. The Dovahkiin had felt fear before, fear came with the job. But never had he felt it so keenly. It felt like a fist around his heart, a numbness in his head. It made him colder than even the fiercest of Skyrim’s storms. He flew over the field a few moments longer until there was a break in the dead’s formation. There, surrounded by the army of the dead, was a lone figure who looked to be made of ice. Their armor was dark and covered in frost, their skin as white as the snow-covered ground. Its lips were blue, and its head was covered in spikes, forming a crown upon its head. Suddenly, the figure moved and looked at him. Pain exploded in Jon’s head. Darkness overcame him and still the pain persisted. Then, nothing. Suddenly, images flew through his head almost too fast to follow.

The same wall as before, crumbling before his eyes like dead leaves under foot.

A beautiful ocean as far as the eye could see. The water was clear and glistening, the beach full of life. Then dark clouds appeared, and the light was gone completely, seemingly forever. Snow seemed to consume the land, destroying its once serene beauty. Before long the ocean itself started to freeze and the dead started their march.

He saw his Father, hunched over a map, more upset than he could ever remember him being. He had dried tear tracks on his face and despair in his eyes.

He saw a beautiful woman with golden hair and eyes the shade of emeralds in an intimate embrace with a man of identical beauty. Just as their lips met the scene had changed again.

A falcon soared through the sky and over a shimmering lake where it makes its nest by the bank. Suddenly, a trout springs out of the lake. The trout and the falcon collide and fall into the lakes glimmering depths. Only the trout emerges and makes its way to the falcon’s nest to squeeze the life out of the falcon’s chick. All the while a mockingbird watches from a distance.

A group of strong and majestic stags stand proudly on a field-stained ruby red. The stags fade away, only to be replace with a single fat stag, who grazes lazily away as the lions close in for the kill.

Under the cover of darkness, a dragon and a wolf meet. As the two reach out to one another they transform. The dragon is now a man, with long silver hair and deep indigo eyes. The wolf is now a beautiful woman with dark hair and intelligent grey eyes. They gaze at each other with passion and . . .

 *******

“Papa! Mother said its time to get up!”

Jon slowly opens his eyes to the sight of his youngest daughter, Sofie, standing beside his bed. The hand she had used to shake him awake still on his shoulder. Jon gives her a soft smile, “Thank you sweetling, I’ll be down in a moment.”

Sofie returns her father’s smile with one of her own. “Don’t take too long or Lucia will eat your bacon again.”

Chuckling, Jon makes to get up while Sofie leaves him to prepare for the day. After the door is shut Jon stays seated for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

He had suspected this day would come, but not like this. He had always wanted to go back to Westeros, if only to visit his family and show them that he yet lived. Now it seems he would be returning much sooner and with much more urgency.

Westeros wasn’t on any of Tamriel’s maps. He had mentioned to Elisif that all of Westeros’s maps ended west of Westeros. She had promised to investigate, as a favor to a friend. Together they had assembled a few ships and crew to try and find his homeland.

He managed to plant a few of his own men on the ships. He had tasked Brynjolf with keeping tabs on all the crew and keeping him updated. He had gotten news from him five moons past that they had been successful, they had found Westeros. From there he had ordered him to infiltrate Kings Landing and send him all he could find on its people and nobility. Brynjolf had gone even further and started a branch of the Thieves Guild in Kings Landing. Jon had been waiting for Elisif to tell him, not wanting her to know that he had an informant on the ship. He would need to talk with her about it at today’s meeting.

After enduring the perils of Skyrim, Jon had considered the merit of Old Nan’s stories. As a child he had listened to them, enraptured by the mythical creatures of legends. All those creatures could be found in Skyrim, and more.

This was no normal dream. If it were normal, he wouldn’t have been able to feel the Winter’s chill on his cheeks, wind in his hair, or the pain in his head. This was not the first time the young Dragonborn had such a dream. The Daedric Princes were known to use these methods to lead him where they wanted him. It hadn’t taken long to figure that out.

His house’s words were Winter is Coming, and the Starks were always right in the end. The army he had seen was beyond comprehension. Jon knew what he had to do. Skyrim would always be his home, but so was Westeros, so was the North. He had missed his family with all his heart, but he had made his own family here, in Skyrim, a family who were waiting for him downstairs.

Having made up his mind Jon started getting ready for the day. He dressed in a light grey tunic and dark breeches. Serana would most likely make him change into something more appropriate for their meeting with the High Queen. She always reminded him to mind his manner. The day he had married Serana had been one of the happiest of his life. After she confessed her feelings, Jon hadn’t seen her for months. Then one day she had popped back up, a human, cured of her Vampirism.

They had married not long after and she had officially adopted his daughters. They had thought her baren, due to her time as a Vampire. Imagine their surprise, after five moons of marriage, to discover Serana with child. Kodlak was a true blessing from the gods, named for Kodlak Whitemane, Jon’s mentor who had been like a grandfather to him. He was a healthy and happy babe, with Jon’s dark black curls and, surprisingly, vibrant purple eyes. They had been perturbed by the purple coloring at first. Neither of them thought to have had purple eyes in their families. Then Jon had remembered the rumors that Ashara Dayne had been his mother, now all but confirmed. Regardless, Kodlak was adored by all residing in the city of Solitude, where they had made their home.

Although Jon owned properties in all the holds of Skyrim, Solitude’s would always be his favorite. Here he had the most friends and lots of children for his daughters to play with. He also enjoyed teaching classes at the local Bard’s College three times a week. He taught the Harp, as well as singing to his ever-growing class of students, as well as admirers, much to his chagrin. When he wasn’t with his family or at the college he could be found in the Blue Palace, having tea with Elisif. They had formed a close friendship over the years.

With his many titles, such as Great Thane and Dragonborn, Jon was a member of the great council of Skyrim. There had recently been a vote amongst the Jarls and Thanes concerning the right of succession. High Queen Elisif had no heirs, and so there was a vote. Much to Jon’s utter surprise, he had been chosen. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, he had literally saved not only Skyrim, but the world, when he defeated Alduin. After a lengthy discussion with his wife, he had accepted his heirship.

Jon followed the scent of bacon, seating himself amongst his family. “Good morning, love.” Serana gives him a devious grin before plopping his son into his arms. “Glad your finally down, I need to get ready for our meeting with the Queen.” After a quick peck to his lips, and a disapproving glace at his cloth, she makes her way to their room. Kodlak was big for his age, he had been a big newborn as well. Jon sat his son on his knee and began to break his fast.

Jon glances at his daughters, giving them a warm smile. “What do you girls have planned for today?”

Lucia is the first to speak. “Me and Sofie will be going over to Kayd’s to play, Svari will be there too.” Lucia was a spirited girl, she often reminded him of his sister, Arya. Both of his daughters were brave and tough. They had to be to survive in the harsh lands of Skyrim.

“Just be safe and be home in time for your sword lessons.” Both girls easily agreed and went back to eating.

“Greetings, my prince. I have many letters and missives for you.” Jordis sets down a large pile of letters on the table next to Jon’s plate. Kodlak makes as if to grab them but finds them just out of reach. This causes everyone to smile fondly, except Kodlak himself. The boy gives a very indignant huff and leans back into his father’s chest.

Jon gives a fond chuckle at his son’s antics. “A very curious mind, much like his parents. Will that be all, my prince?”

“Yes, Jordis. Thank you. Please, have a seat and break your fast with the rest of us.” Jon looks up at Jordis as she starts attaching her sword to her hip.

“Apologies, my prince. I have many errands to run. I broke my fast earlier.”

“No apologies needed, safe travels.” After Jordis leaves, he turns back to his son, who is now attempting to pull Jon’s plate towards himself. This is not helped by Sofie, who is nudging it forward, assisting her brother in his attempt to cause more mischief.

Jon glares, jokingly, at Sofie before handing his son a slice of peach. Content with his handful, he, and his family start to eat once again. Jon picks up the stack of letters that Jordis had left for him. Many of the letters were congratulations on his son’s first name day. He has letters from Delvin and Tolfdir, both of whom he had left in charge of their respective factions.

Delvin gave a positive update on the guild’s activities. Business was well with Lady Luck on their side. Tolfdir’s letter was less than good news. A student had practically blown themselves up after a spell backfired on them. Jon made a mental note to have him tighten safety procedures and make sure they are enforced.

Not long after he was married Jon attempted to, mostly, settle down. He had enchanted boxes for all his properties and organizations he ran. He had also gifted one to all the Jarls of Skyrim, so that they would have quick access to Jon’s services when needed. These boxes were all connected to a single box in the Dragonborn’s possession. When a Jarl or Housecarl wanted to send him a letter, or even small to medium sized item, they would place it inside the box and shut the lid. Once shut they would touch the enchanted gem on top and the contents would be transported to Jon’s box. This was also how he kept up with Brynjolf in Kings Landing.

Skyrim was at peace, well, as peaceful as Skyrim could ever be. Jon would be summoned for the occasional dragon slaying quest, maybe even clearing out some bandits from a cave. A couple of times he had to mediate some squabbles between the defeated Stormcloak soldiers and Imperials. He tried his best to find a peaceful solution, but bloodshed cannot always be avoided.

Those squabbles had all but vanished in the past year. Soon after his son’s birth the Aldmeri Dominion made their move. They saw a weakened Skyrim; they saw an opportunity to assert their control.

Their biggest mistake was not accounting for him, The Dragonborn. They assumed that because he wasn’t a Nord he could be deterred by their overwhelming force. They were sadly mistaken.

When over one-hundred thousand soldiers in the Aldmeri Dominion touched down in Skyrim, their fates were already decided. With the help of Paarthurnax, Jon assembled a legion of dragons. When the Altmer were assembled on one side of the field and the Nords and Imperials on the other, the Dragonborn came.

The Soldiers tell many a tell of that day. They say the dragonborn descended from the sky atop an ancient dragon, with a small army of dragons at his back. He looked like Akatosh reborn, like a God, raining divine fury upon the sinners below. When all was said and done, less than twenty thousand Altmer remain. Most were heavily burnt; none had any fight left in them. The battle, if you can call it that, became known as The Dragonborn’s Wrath.

The White-Gold Concordat had been broken. The Aldmeri Dominion were soundly defeated and banned from ever returning to Skyrim. Talos worship was legal once again and the remaining Stormcloaks were appeased.

Once he was almost finished with his letters and feeding his son, Serana came back downstairs. Jon glances up from his current letter to watch his wife walk towards him. Two years later he was still astounded at her beauty. She was wearing a maroon dress with black trimmings. The dress accentuated her curves, he would have to remember to thank Endarie, not that she would care.

“You look lovely today, my lady.” He stands with his son still in his arms and makes his way over to her. She walks towards him with a gentle smile on her face.

“It’s been a whole year, I still don’t believe he’s real sometimes.” Serana walks into his free arm that isn’t holding their son, wrapping her arms around him, and resting her head on his shoulder. “I never imagined I would get to be a mother. I thought that path closed to me forever.”

They both stare at their son in awe for a moment, “Aye, I had never thought to have children because of my bastard status. I never wanted to put my child through what I suffered. I suppose none of that matters anymore, it never really mattered to begin with.” Serana smiled proudly up at Jon and pulled him into a brief kiss. Not one to be left out, Kodlak gives a shout before tugging on his father’s curls. Before he can pry his hair out of his sons’ tiny fists, he hears two sets of feet run up to them. Moments later two sets of arms wrapped around him and his wife.

“Don’t forget about us!” Lucia snuggles into Jon’s chest while Sofie snuggles up to Serana. Kodlak, seeing his sisters, lets go of Jon’s hair. Instead, he reaches over to Lucia’s head and gives it a few pats before grabbing a fist full and giving it a firm yank.

“Oww! No baby should be that strong, that really hurt!” Everyone breaks into laughter at Lucia’s cry of dismay, even her.

For Jon it was moments like these that made all the hardships he had to endure worth it. His daughters’ smiling faces and giggles. His wife smiling softly at his cooing son. Though, Jon thought darkly, this could all be taken away if the threat across the sea and beyond the Wall is not dealt with. He will have to disturb the very peace he’d fought so hard for if he was to preserve it in the long run.

****

After taking their son too Angeline, they made their way to the Blue Palace. After the war that claimed her daughter’s life, Angeline officially retired and left Angeline’s Aromatics to her niece, Vivienne. Angeline adored Kodlak, she was always happy to watch him when his parents attended to their duties.

They were escorted to Elisif’s sitting room. The Queen herself walked in as they were getting seated.

“Jon, it’s so nice to see you! And Serana, you look as lovely as ever.” Elisif gives them both a genuine smile before taking her seat across from them.

“You look lovely as well, my Queen.”

“Oh, none of that! We are far from prying eyes, call me Elisif. Unless you want me to call you Prince Jon?”

Serena gives an amused snort when Jon winces. “That won’t be necessary, Elisif.”

After being made the Queen’s heir Jon gained yet another, new title. He was now the Prince of Skyrim and since he was married his wife and daughters were Princesses and his son, a Prince. Luckily, the people of Skyrim, for the most part, didn’t treat him that differently. The children still played in the streets with their daughters and most of the towns people still called him Jon or Dragonborn. There were still those that called him Prince Jon. Worse of all was when his had to attend court, which was much more often now.

At court he was announced by all his titles: Prince Jon Whitewolf, Heir and Great Thane of Skyrim, Protector of Solitude, Dragonborn and Master of the Thu’um, Harbinger of the Companions, Archmage of the College of Winterhold and Master Enchanter, Slayer of Alduin, Dragon Slayer, Vanquisher of the Aldmeri Dominion, and Defender of Skyrim.

Elisif’s face takes on a more serious expression. “I have news of Westeros. My men arrived two moons past. I didn’t tell you until now because I needed you here. As your position as Heir is secure, I thought it best to inform you. We have made contact with Westeros.”

Jon's eyes widen, feigning surprise. This wasn’t news to him, it was best not to let Elisif know. “That is wonderful!” He looks too Serana, who is listening with a neutral expression. “We must make preparations to go within the moon.”

“Not so fast Jon, it isn’t that simple. You aren’t just a son going to visit his father and siblings after a prolonged absence. You are a Prince of a newly discovered, foreign nation. When you go to Westeros you will be representing not only myself and Skyrim, but all of Tamriel.”

Jon frowns, considering her words. “What would you have me do?”

“Go to Kings Landing with a small fleet of our fastest ships and present yourself to their court as my heir. They will be expecting you. One of my men had a letter of introduction, written by me, for the King of Westeros.”

Serana, who had been listening attentively until now, speaks up. “What did this letter say?”

“It told of our people and of our reason for seeking Westeros out. All they know is that we heard of a land called Westeros and sent a group of our men to find it. We were given a map of Westeros and of all the nations they know of. The letter said that if Westeros’s King allowed it, I would be sending my heir as a diplomatic representative to foster relations between our people. They know that you are not my son and that you were elected by the nobility of Skyrim as the next High King. I said nothing of Westeros being your homeland.”

It was silent for a moment while Jon and Serana thought this over. Finally, Jon spoke. “Was anything mentioned about magic or the many races who live in Tamriel?”

“After your warning about The Seven I thought it best to leave out as much as I could about magic. However, there was a Dunmer and Khajiit in the group of soldiers that delivered the letter to the throne room. I was told that they received many stares and whispers. The King even asked about their appearance. I told my men that they were to tell Westeros’s people about all the races of our land. I thought it best to have as few surprises as possible between us and them."

Jon wasn’t so sure. “I hope you’re right. However, I would still expect some backlash from the people of Westeros. They aren’t exactly known for their hospitality to those who are different.” Jon thought about the Children of the Forest, who were butcher to near extinction by the First Men.

“As I understand it, Jon must present himself to the King and Queen of Westeros and only then may he go and see his family.” To most Serana would sound and look indifferent. But Jon knew her better than most. He could see that she didn’t agree with the Queen’s judgment.

“Yes, I believe that would be best. I know you have missed your family, and I am truly sorry to ask this of you. When you agreed to be my heir, to one day lead the people of Skyrim, you agreed to put our people before yourself.”

Jon could see the wisdom in her argument. Still, he could work with this. As much as he wanted to see his family as soon as possible some things just couldn’t be helped.

“Alright, I will meet with the King. But, as soon as I meet with him, I will tell him who I am. I will stay as long as I need to before going North. I have spent seven years away from my father and siblings. I will wait no longer.”

Elisif smiled proudly back at Jon, “That is more than acceptable. You are a good man; you will represent Skyrim well.” Elisif rose, “Now, how would you like to meet the crew who will be taking you to Westeros?”

*****

After talking to the crew, Jon made his way home. Meanwhile, Serana went to pick up their son from Angeline. The girls were out back with Jordis practicing with swords. Jon watched them for a few moments, inspecting their form.

Lucia was by far the better sword maiden. She was good for her age, and fast. She had been so small and sickly, back when Jon had seen her on the streets of Whiterun. At first, he paid for a bed at the local inn, as well as food, for her. Once he had been able to afford his first home, he had asked Jarl Balgruuf to officially adopt Lucia. Balgruuf had been surprised, after all, Jon had only been five and ten at the time. Jon had seen his little sister in Lucia, he had promised to do his best by her. She was very tall and strong for her age, but no less beautiful. She idolized his friend, Aela. She wanted to join the Companions as soon as she was of an age.

Despite being only a year younger than her sister, Sofie, was almost a head shorter. While not as good with a sword, she had a talent for conjuration and restoration magic. Jon and Serana gave her lessons on magic themselves; she was a fast and eager learner. Sofie had almost broken his heart trying to sell flowers for food on the cold streets of Windhelm. He had decided to adopt her that very day. He had spoken to Windhelm’s Steward and taken her home as soon as his business in Windhelm was concluded.

He still remembered the battle for Windhelm like it was yesterday. After the fight, while still on the battlefield, it had occurred to him that Sofie could have been killed during the battle if he hadn’t taken her home with him. The thought still saddened him greatly. She was a very kind and gentle soul, always smiling and helping others. Serana had joked that he would have to beat the suitors back when she was of an age to marry. He doubted that would be much of a challenge with the help of her sister.

“Alright girls! That’s enough for today. Looks like your father is home.” Both girls looked in his direction and beamed back at him.

“Where’s mother?” Sofie was always the first to notice Serana’s absence.

“She went to get Kodlak. You girls head inside and get cleaned up, me and your mother have some big news.”

The girls gave each other curious looks and headed inside. “I wonder what it could be?”

“The last time papa sounded like that he told us we were going to be princesses.” Lucia said this with a pinched look on her face. It was no surprise that she was not most pleased when they had told her. An opinion she and Jon had shared.

Once the door had shut behind them Jon turned to Jordis. “You should hear this as well; it affects all of us.”

She gave him a curious look but nodded her head before they both made their way inside.

****

Once Serana was home and everyone was gathered Jon told them of his dream from that morning. Serana and Jordis looked resigned, and more than a little concerned. The girls were understandably afraid but curious.

“You saw the White Walkers? Like the ones from your stories?” Lucia, ever the brave one, spoke first. Next to her Sofie was clutching her hand, tightly.

“Yes, there were more soldiers than I could count. More even than the battle of The Dragonborn’s Wrath. I watched the Wall, that protected Westeros, fall and the storm froze even the sea. I fear that if I don’t stop them, the whole world could be swallowed by that storm.”

After a time, Jordis spoke, “Are you sure this wasn’t just a dream?”

He shook his head immediately, “No. You don’t feel cold or pain in your dreams. This was a vision. It was showing me what will happen if I don’t intervene.”

Serana was looking at him, they made eye contact and stared at each other for a moment, speaking to each other in a way only they could. Finally, she smiled. “So, I guess it’s time for the Dragonborn to save the world again, huh?”

Chapter Text

The next morning found Jon in his cellar, putting on his armor with the help of Jordis. She was fastening the chest piece of his favorite armor, Deathbrand. The chill from the enchanted ice helped counter his overly warm body.

Ever since coming to Skyrim and learning he was dragonborn, his body had been different. The only fire that could burn him was dragon and magic fire, and even then, the burns left his skin pink instead of red and inflamed. They also healed quickly, even without the help of a healing potion. The cold had never bothered him, being from the north. Now he welcomed it, even in the fiercest of blizzards.

“Are you sure you do not need me to go with you?” Jordis had always been the most protective of his Housecarls. Before Jon answered, he finished attaching Mehrunes Dagon’s Razor to his hip.

“No, I’m not going anywhere dangerous. I will be fine, Jordis.” He gave her a reassuring smile and double checked his gear. He had Dragon’s Breath, his own creation, a dragon bone sword with a powerful fire enchantment, attached to his hip, opposite of the Razor. He also had enough supplies to get him there and back. After all, it wasn’t but a four-day journey.

He made his way upstairs, where his family was breaking their fast. Lucia and Sofie were discussing the various houses of Westeros. Elisif had gotten a book of all the houses for Serana and the girls to familiarize themselves with. They had stayed up late and gone over the book together. Even now, they had it open on the table while eating.

Serana looked up from where she was feeding Kodlak. “Leaving already?”

Jon smiled grimly. “I’ll only be gone for a few days; I want us to be on our way as soon as possible.”

Serana understood her husband’s eagerness. She too was excited to meet her good family. Jon talked about them in such detail, she felt like she already knew them.

“Be safe, my love. And no unplanned stops! You always seem to find trouble, wherever you go.”

Jon chuckles good-naturedly and walks over to his daughters. “You girls be good for Jordis and your mother. I love you.” He bent down and wrapped his daughters in his arms. They were quick to return his embrace and gave him a kiss on both cheeks. He then walked over to give a kiss to his wife and a peck on the head for his son.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” With those final words Jon makes his way to the streets of Solitude. Seeing him in his armor the people shout words of encouragement and wish him luck. He walks until he is a few miles away from the city and stops in front of a clearing.

OD AH VIING

After Jon’s shout, there is silence. Then a roar can be heard in the distance. After a few minutes, Odahviing can be seen in the sky. Soon he lands in front of Jon.

“You called, Dovahkiin?”

“I need to go to Solstheim and retrieve a friend to assist me in battles to come. Soon I will be traveling to a faraway land. I trust you will be coming?” Jon looks at the dragon, expectantly.

Jon had dealt with many dragons over the years and could still barely discern their facial expressions. He would still swear at that moment, Odahviing had rolled his eyes at his request.

“I will go where the Dovahkiin goes.”

Jon laughs, “Of course, my friend. Let us be on our way.”

*****

It takes them the better part of a day to get to Solstheim. Jon lands in a secluded spot a couple of miles away. From there he makes his way to his home in Raven Rock and goes over his Inventory.

He will be sending all his extra supplies by ship, to Solitude. Considering the importance of his task, he will probably be in Westeros for a while, maybe even years. He loads all his surplus supplies into boxes and sets them aside to be loaded onto a ship in the morning.

The night he had told his family about his dream he had sent out many letters all over Skyrim. A letter had been sent to each Jarl, stating that he would be on a diplomatic trip to his homeland to establish relations and trade.

His letters to his housecarls were a little different. He expressed concerns that their stay would be prolonged, from months, to years. He had all of them to pack the supplies in each of his homes and bring them to Solitude. Once they all got to Solitude, he would be bringing them to Westeros as members of his honorary guard.

He had also sent a letter to the emperor. After The Dragonborn’s Wrath, the Emperor had formally thanked Jon for defending not only Skyrim, but all of Tamriel. He had promised to reward him, offering anything within his power. At the time Jon didn’t need anything, so he had accepted one favor from the emperor. This favor could be used at any time.

Jon had already discussed this with Elisif. He had told her that in the event that they successfully located Westeros, Jon would use his favor to ask that the emperor allow him to travel to Westeros to establish diplomatic relations. She admitted that it was a good idea. He had already proven himself a strong diplomat when he had successfully convinced Hammerfell, Morrowind, and Black Marsh to unite with the Imperial Army to help push back the Thalmor.

He had sent a letter to Vilkas, asking that he send a couple of Companions to Solitude to accompany him to Westeros. He has asked for Aela and Farkas, but he wouldn’t force any of the Companions to leave their homeland, the choice would be theirs.

His letters to Delvin and Tolfdir had been much the same. He told them to keep up the good work and continue to update him on their progress. He had asked Tolfdir to send a volunteer from the College to assist him in Westeros, preferably a mage that specialized in fire magic. Delvin would be sending as many recruits as he could spare to assist Jon and Brynjolf in Westeros.

He had sent letters to his property in Honeyside and Windstad Manor, to Marcurio and Illia, respectively. He and Marcurio had struck up an unlikely friendship. His friend was blunt, proud, and prone to dramatics, but also a kind and strong soul. His unusual humor had been like a breath of fresh air after a long and hard fight. It helped that he was an excellent mage and loved by Jon’s children. He had let Marc stay in his home in Riften since it wasn't being used. This made it easier to correspond with him and continue their friendship. However, Marc and Iona, his housecarl in Riften, did not get along. Jon found this endlessly funny considering their blunt personalities. Somedays he would get letters from both, complaining about the other. Jon secretly thought the two had some suppressed feeling, he was looking forward to the ship ride to Westeros with those two on board.

It was the same with Illia. After they had killed her mother, who was trying to use innocent travelers as sacrifices, he hadn’t felt right leaving her alone. For a while they had adventured together. At one point he had suggested she attend the College in Winterhold with him. She had accepted and stayed there even after he had become the Arch-Mage. Years later she now stayed at his manor, Windstad, to practice her magic in peace. He would want people like them by his side in the battles to come.

*****

After getting some rest, Jon heads out to Raven Rock’s shipyard. He meets with a trader who would be going to Solitude in a weeks’ time. Jon pays him not only to deliver his supplies but to leave for Solitude the day after tomorrow.

The Dark Elf’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at the large sack of gold Jon gives him. “Of course, sir! We will leave out the day after tomorrow, at first light. I’ll have my men prepare your lodging.” It wasn’t every day he got a wealthy and mysterious client to board his ship.

“There will be no need, I have other arrangements to get home. However, I will have some quests who will need passage. I’m not sure how many yet, but you will be fairly compensated.” The Elf looks at him strangely, clearly confused. After a moment he shrugged it off. What did he care if the coin was good?

Less than an hour later the same dark elf watches as a dragon flies around Raven Rock with a man on his back, in the direction of the Skaal’s village. Needless to say, he knew how his not-so-mysterious client was getting home.

It wasn’t long before Jon was climbing down from Odahviing and making his way to the Skaal’s village. He is greeted almost immediately by Nikulas.

“Dragonborn! We haven’t seen you in sometime!” Nikulas had wanted to become an adventurer. He had asked Jon to convince his mother that he was ready to make his own decisions. Jon had convinced her, promising to provide funds for armor that would help keep him safe. He had even given him an enchanted sword to defend himself, one made with Stalhrim.

“Well met, friend. I’m here to see Frea. Is she around?” Jon observed the young man for the first time in almost three years. He had definitely put on some muscle since last he had put eyes on him. He looked much happier too. His armor looked warm and well cared for, as well as the sword he had gifted him.

“Yes, she is in the Great Hall. I’ll take you there.” Jon knew his way around the village, humoring him, he followed. As they made their way through the village Jon waved and spoke to the people he knew. Some people stopped them for several minutes, offering him gifts or their wares, some asking if he was married yet.

What should have taken a few minutes took the better part of an hour. Finally, they entered the Great Hall. Frea was sitting by the fire, sharpening the Stalhrim axe he had enchanted for her during their adventures on Solstheim.

She looks up and widens her eyes. “As I live an’ breathe.” She sets down her axe and makes her way over to Jon. Grinning, she pulls him into a hug and slaps him, hard, on the back. “The famous Dragonborn has finally decided to grace us with his presence. I heard that you were a Prince now, is it true?”

Jon winces, at both the slap and that the news had travelled even here. “It’s good to see you too. And, yes, that is true. But please, do not treat me any different.”

Frea pulled away and took on a faux serious expression. “Oh sorry, no can do. You’re a fancy prince now. How can I, a simple village girl, treat one such as yourself like one of us common folk?” She held her serious façade for a moment longer before they both broke out in laughter.

“Don’t you worry Jon. You’ll always be a friend of the Skaal and my fellow shield-brother. Not only that, but I’ve also seen your dumbass try to tame and ride a Bristleback. It would be hard to bow and simper at your feet after seein that.” Frea gave a bellowing laugh at Jon’s expense. Jon chuckles, blushing a bit at his own foolishness.

“Wait did he really?” Jon and Frea turned to Nikulas, having forgotten he was there. At Jon’s embarrassed smile and Frea’s continued laughter his eyes widened, then he too was laughing.

“Alright, Alright, laugh it up. Everyone makes mistakes.”

After some time, they both settle down, someone clears their throat from the door. Morwen stands there with a little smile on her face. “What did I miss?”

Just as Frea is about to speak, Jon steps between them.” Nothing! I was just about to tell Frea what brought me here.”

Morwen gives him an amused look but relents. “Alright, do you need us to leave?” She motions at Nikulas.

Jon’s face grows solemn. “No, you can both stay. Come, join me by the fire, it’s going to be a long story.” At once everyone becomes serious and takes a seat.

*****

Everyone takes a few minutes to think about what Jon has told them. Jon looks at the three around him. Nikulas was staring into the fire with a troubled expression marring his otherwise handsome face. Both Frea and Morwen had perturbed expressions and worry between their brows.

Nikulas spoke. “These Others, are they different from the draugr?”

Jon thought for a moment. “As far as I know they’re pretty much the same. The only difference I can think of is that they all have one source, the night king. He raised them all to join his army.”

Frea turned her gaze to Jon. “You haven’t come all this way just to tell us this.”

Jon looked back at her, gaze still solemn. “I came hoping to get your help. Your people are some of the best warriors I know, the Skaal are also well versed in killing draugr. Your knowledge and fighting strength would be invaluable.”

Frea smiled viciously and stood. “Your damn right. You saved my people, that is a fact I will never be able to repay. We may not be a large people but any of our men or women are worth 10 mainlanders. You will have my axe, friend of the Skaal.”

Nikulas stood as well. “You believed in me when I wanted to follow my dreams and helped me pursue them. All that I am I owe to you. You will have my sword as well.” His face was serious, his eyes taking on a stubborn glint. Jon had seen those eyes staring back at him through his own reflection many times. He knew he could not dissuade the boy.

“I may be older than you young ones, but I can still fight. I was the strongest shield maiden of the Skaal, until Frea came of age. I will come with you. I will protect your family, just as you did mine.” Morwen gives him a gentle smile, but there was a sharpness to her gaze.

Jon was touched by their words. The Skaal where much like the men of the North when it came to loyalty. It was why he liked the little village and its people.

“Nikulas, go spread word around the village that all the Skaal are to gather in the Great Hall tonight.”  Nikulas left quickly to do as he was told. “Morwen, gather some other Skaal and prepare for a feast. Come morning, some will be leaving the village, perhaps for the last time. We will make this a night to remember.”

After Nikulas and Morwen had left she looked to Jon. “Now then, tell me all you know of this land, Westeros.”

*****

All the Skaal in the Village, including the women and children, were gathered in the Great Hall. There were well over a hundred people gathered there. The building was the biggest in the village and was able to fit them all comfortably. Jon thought of the Great Hall in Winterfell, how it would fit more than five times the amount of people as this one. The thought that he would soon be returning to those very same halls excited him. Around him everyone was waiting for the announcement they knew was to come.

Finally, Frea stood. “Thank you, everyone, for coming today. As you all know the Dragonborn has come to visit our village.”

Her eyes search the ones of her people. “Almost three years ago the Dragonborn came to us, in our greatest hour of need. Without him, none of us would be standing here today. He is a dear friend of the Skaal, and he has come seeking our help.”

Hushed whispers can be heard around the hall. Men and women both straighten themselves and facing Jon, waiting for him to speak.

Jon stands, bringing himself to full height. “Not all of you know this, but I was not born in Tamriel. I hail from a land called Westeros. I know not how I ended up in Skyrim, nor does it matter. That is not what I came to talk about today.”

Jon pauses and looks around the room filled with nords. “Almost eight thousand years ago, Westeros faced a threat just as powerful, if not more so, than Miraak. This threat was that of the Night King. An undead with skin as pale as snow and horns on his head in the shape of a crown. He was like the draugr, but different. He was smarter and could raise as many dead as he wanted. He assembles a massive army and almost destroyed all of Westeros.”

“However, my ancestors, as well as beings known as The Children of the Forest, were able to push him and his army back. They erected a massive wall of ice, interwoven with magic, that the dead could not pass through. This Wall is seven hundred foot tall, three hundred foot thick, and three hundred miles long, sealing Westeros’s northern border.”

Many of the Skaal balked at this. Even Frea, who already knew of the wall, looked impressed still. “In all these years the Wall has been guarded by the Sworn Brothers of the Night’s Watch. A once respectable order that has now fallen to near ruin. There were once seventeen fully manned castles on the Wall. Now only three are manned.”

“Most of Westeros believes the Others are myths used to scare naughty children into behaving. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. The Others are real. I’ve seen the Night King’s army in my dreams. His forces number approximately three hundred thousand.”

At once the people started talking urgently amongst themselves. A man from the front raised his voice with a question. “You said you saw this in a dream? How do you know it real? That their real?” He seemed skeptical, but not overly so. 

“It was a dream that brought me here, to face Miraak. I saw the stones that were enslaving your people and Miraak himself in these dreams. These aren’t simple dreams. These are visions disguised as dreams. I’ve had them ever since coming to Tamriel and discovering I was Dragonborn. If not for these ‘dreams’ I may have never come here.”

At his final statement the room became silent once more. Most looked worried, some looked determined. There were some who still looked skeptical. One of these few spoke up. “You said that The Wall had stood for eight thousand years, what’s to say it won’t stand for eight thousand more?”

That created some more murmuring and curious looks shot his way. Jon spoke once again. “In my vision I didn’t just see the army of the dead. I saw The Wall crumble and fall. I saw a beach; from this beach I watched as the sea froze over and the dead marched across it.”

The room grew as silent as the grave. All eyes stared at him in horror, as the reality of his last statement sunk in. However, the Skaal weren’t known for being cowards. A man who looked to be in his late thirties stepped forward. “Frea said you came here seeking our help. You would have us fight these Others?”

Jon nodded his head in confirmation. “I will tell you what I told Frea. The Skaal are some of the hardiest warriors in all of Tamriel. You all have invaluable experience with fighting draugr. I won’t force you to leave your families, I only ask for volunteers.”

Jon held this Skaal’s gazed until finally he gave Jon a determined smirk. “When do we leave?”

Jon returned his smirk with a relieved smile of his own. “Anyone who wishes to fight with me, to fight for the living, will leave the village in the morning. We will make our way to Raven Rock. I have a ship ready to leave out at first light the day after tomorrow.”

The Hall broke out in noise. Men and woman talking amongst themselves, and rowdy laughter rang out across the room. Frea smiled at him and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.

“You did well, my friend. Any volunteers we get tonight will have been hard fought.” Frea looked out at her people and eyed them proudly.

Frea takes a large breath. ”Skaal! You have heard the Dragonborn’s request. If you wish to volunteer, you may do so by coming to me or Jon. Until then, let the feast begin!”

Cheers rang out through the hall, and everyone took to the tables to begin the feast.

*****

By first light they had twenty-two volunteers, twenty-five counting Frea, Nikulas, and Morwen. Jon traveled with the rest of the Skaal on foot towards Raven Rock. They encountered some bandits along the way, they were quickly dispatched by both Jon and Frea.

Upon returning to Raven Rock, Jon secured rooms for all the Skaal. He purchased rooms at The Retching Netch and let some stay in his own home for the night. He made sure all were comfortable and had what they needed before returning to the dark elf captain.

As he was approaching the port he was spotted by the very same captain. “Dragonborn! Greetings! What can I do for you today?”

The elf rung his hands nervously while waiting for Jon’s response. “I have brought twenty-five Skaal who will need accommodations, will there be enough room?”

Jon was smiling kindly at the elf. However, he still looked nervous. “Yes, o-of course! We will have plenty of room for your goods and men. Please, do not worry.”

“Thank you, here, for your trouble.” Jon handed the man another bag of septims before returning to Frea to say his farewells.

He finds Frea at The Retching Netch with the rest of the Skaal. “I’m going to head back, take this.” He hands her a box with a crystal on top.

She looks at it skeptically. “It’s pretty, but what’s it for?”

“If you put a letter in it and tap the crystal on top three times the letter will disappear. It will then reappear in the box at my home in Solitude. I want you to keep it, in case you run into any trouble.”

Frea gives the box a double take and stares at it in disbelief. “By the All Maker, you really are something.”

Jon chuckles and pulls her into a hug. “Safe travels friend.”

Frea laughs fondly, “You as well, friend. Try not to fall off that dragon of yours.”

Jon says his goodbyes to the other Skaal and makes to exit the city.

*****

Jon gets back to Solitude by the next morning. He had stopped briefly in Dawnstar and slept at the Inn for a couple of hours before resuming his trip.

As he walks through the door to his home he is immediately greeted by Serana. She looks worried, which immediately sets Jon on edge.

He quickens his pace until he is in front of her. “What’s wrong? Are the children safe?” He gently sets his hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort her, as well as himself.

Despite the situation Serana smiles at her husband’s reaction. His first instincts were always to protect and comfort. She had never imagined she could be loved like this.

“Everyone is fine, my love. We are in no danger.” Jon lets out a sigh of audible relief. “You received a summons from the emperor last night. You are to immediately report to him. He says it is a matter of national importance.”

That does not bode well. Jon knew he would have to leave again, despite just walking through the door.

“I will need to leave immediately then. I will go down to the cellar and resupply. Tell the girls I am sorry.”

Serana smiles sadly at him. “They will understand. Their father is an important man. Now go, I’ll at least put a hot meal in you before you go.”

Jon makes his way down into the cellar to restock on supplies. He then, quietly, makes his way to his room to grab an extra change of cloth for court. When he was ready to leave, he goes down to the kitchen where Serana and Jordis are talking quietly to each other.

Jordis spots him first and meets him halfway. “My prince, I will be coming with you.” Her tone brooked no argument.

“Alright, I hope you’re ready to travel by air.” Jon smirks when she frowns.

“I will manage. You need to have someone by your side when you meet with the emperor. Especially considering the open hostilities with the Thalmor.”

Jon nods in agreement. Serana sets out two bowls of porridge. “It’s a long ride between here and the Imperial City, eat up.”

He and Jordis eat quickly. Once done, Serana follows them to the door. “I will meet you at the city gates, my prince.” Jordis leaves, giving him some privacy to say goodbye to his wife.

They embraced, holding each other closely for a moment. They both were thinking about what a summons from the emperor could mean for them and all of Tamriel.

A little over a year ago, the Thalmor had brought an armada to the shores between High Rock and Skyrim. They had docked in the Icy Coast and taken Farrun with overwhelming force. From there they had planned to march straight to Solitude and take the capital city of Skyrim.

It had been thirty years since the First Great War. The Imperials were back at full strength at this point. However, elves do not procreate as fast as humans. This posed a problem for the Thalmor. One they had hoped to counter by building an enormous armada and invading where no-one would have suspected.

They would have been completely unprepared; the people of Skyrim would have been quickly and soundly defeated. That would have been the case, had it not been for Jon’s dream. A week before the invasion was to arrive Jon was granted a vision. He was able to prepare himself and all of Skyrim, thanks to his enchanted boxes.

The Thalmor had planned to take advantage of a weakened Skyrim. Once Skyrim was under Thalmor rule, the emperor would be forced to send troops to defend the border between Skyrim and Cyrodiil. If he didn’t, he would have left himself open to invasion from the North.

While the Emperor positioned his troops, the Thalmor would have used their overwhelming numbers and the element of surprise to simultaneously invade Hammerfell and Morrowind. Once they successfully conquered these two provinces Cyrodiil and High Rock would have been completely surrounded, with no help in sight.

However, that never happened. After the battle of The Dragonborn’s Wrath, the current Emperor, Titus Mede II, launched a counterattack on the weakened Aldmeri Dominion. The Thalmor never suspected they would be defeated. When the Emperor sent all his forces into Valenwood and Anequina the Thalmor were caught completely unprepared. However, the Thalmor had almost conquered Tamriel all those years ago for a reason. Even with a vastly depleted force the Aldmeri Dominion still fought on.

Last they heard, the Imperial army had taken both Anequina and Pelletine, what used to be the Elsweyr Confederation. The Imperial army was stationed inside Valenwood at Elden Root and Vinedusk Village.

After Jon defeated the Thalmor, the Emperor had ordered Jon to travel to Morrowind, Hammerfell, and Black Marsh. He had hoped that Jon, being both the Dragonborn and the voice of the emperor himself, would be able to convince these nations to rejoin the Empire.

In Morrowind he had used his influence with House Telvanni and his part in preventing Miraak’s return to convince them to rejoin the Empire. It helped that Jon was a natural born leader and very charismatic. By the time Jon left Morrowind, to go to Black Marsh, the dark elves looked upon him with reverence.

The Argonians of Black Marsh were a lot harder to convince. He traveled to each known settlement within Black Marsh. Not much was known of the Argonian culture because of their reclusive nature. Jon spent a whole month getting to know them and convincing them to trust him.

 He did finally convince the Argonians to rejoin the Empire. A lot of concessions had to be made, one of which was the past enslavement of their people. If this was to ever happen again the Empire would have to intervene. Jon had given a passionate speech in front of the argonian Shaman, who led the people of Black Marsh, stating that if his people were ever force into slavery again Jon himself would come to their aid. He promised to have the heads of any who would dare enslave another. His speech had been the deciding factor for the Argonians. When the Dragonborn himself had sworn to protect his people, the Shaman had signed the agreement, then and there.

Surprisingly, Hammerfell had been the easiest to convince. Most thought that since the Empire had practically abandoned them thirty years ago, they would be completely against rejoining. Upon arriving, Jon was taken to meet the acting king of Hammerfell. The man who greeted Jon had shocked him.

During the time Serana had disappeared, Jon had begun to wander aimlessly around Skyrim. It was during this time that he met the mysterious Ebony Warrior, who had wanted to fight Jon to the death. Jon had been victorious, but just barely. In the end he had spared the Redguard’s life by knocking him unconscious and taking him to his home.

Jon had worried that he would react violently when he woke up. However, his worries had been for nothing. Upon coming home from Solitude’s market, he had found his daughters talking the ears off his simi-unwilling guest. The redguard, who Jon had discovered was named Divad, was quickly endeared by his daughters.

He never did learn much about his guest. He had left after two weeks, saying that he had something he needed to do. He had seemed to come to some kind of realization during this time. He had thanked Jon for sparing his life and been on his way.

Upon meeting the King of Hammerfell, Divad, had embraced Jon and introduced him to his daughter. Jon had been more than a little confused at the time. After the initial introduction, Divad explained his situation to Jon.

When The Second Treaty of Stros M'ka was signed the Crowns and Forebearers had ended centuries long civil war with a marriage between Divad and his wife. His wife had died giving birth to their daughter, which had caused unrest between the Forebearers and the Crowns. Divad had decided to stage his own death so that his throne would pass onto his daughter, despite her wishes. He wanted to avoid another civil war at all costs.

Jon had saved him from that fate, so he felt as if he owed Jon a debt. In the end, Hammerfell’s King had signed an agreement to rejoin the Empire, with a lot of concessions, of course. Thanks to Jon the Empire was stronger than it had been in the beginning of the Fourth Era.

With the additional soldiers the Empire was said to be doing quite well in the fight. Many were calling Jon the Hero of Tamriel or the Bane of the Thalmor.

Jon gives his wife one more kiss before letting her go and walking towards the door. Before he can reach the door, he hears a voice from the hallway.

“Papa? Are you home?” Sofie walks into the entranceway, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looks at him happily, before seeing his hand on the doorknob and his sad expression.

Sofie’s face turns into a pout, as she realizes that her father was leaving again. “Oh, u-uh.”

Jon sets down his bag to kneel in from of his daughter and pulls her gently into his arms. “I’m sorry, sweetling. Your papa received an urgent summons from the emperor. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Sofie pulled away from him and smiled sadly. “Just be safe, papa.” Sofie laid her head back on her father’s shoulders and hugged him tightly.

*****

It takes them three days to get to the Imperial City. It would have taken Jon less than two, but Jordis couldn’t ride for as long as he could. They arrived during the late afternoon and were escorted straight to the emperor’s solar.

Along the way Jon noticed an open door. From previous visits he knew this room was a sitting room for important guests. When they passed by, he glanced inside. He only looked for a few seconds, but a few seconds was all he needed. Inside were Thalmor wizards and a few guards. In the middle of all these mer and men was the leader of the Aldmeri Dominion. 

Jon walked into the emperor’s solar, his mind racing with questions. Conveniently, the one man who could answer all of them was waiting for him just inside. Jordis and the attendant that escorted them stayed outside while Jon walked in.

“Your Majesty.” Jon bowed before standing to face the Emperor, Titus Mede ll.

The emperor glanced at the seat before him. “Jon, have a seat. I’m afraid this will be a lengthy conversation.”

Jon sat in front of the emperor and looked at him imploringly. “Excuse me, your Majesty, but why is the leader of the Aldmeri Dominion here?”

The emperor sighed, giving Jon a fond smile. “Please Jon, it’s just the two of us. I believe we’ve come to understand each other over the years. Humor this old man and speak casually.”

At this Jon smiled a bit and nodded. “Good. Now, as to why the Altmer are here. It’s quite simple really, they’ve come to surrender.”

Jon stared at him, blankly. “The Altmer came here to surrender?” Jon stresses the words Altmer and surrender. Even saying it out loud sounded ridiculous. The High Elves were a proud species, the Thalmor of the Aldmeri Dominion even more so.

Titus let out a little surprised laugh. “Yes, they did. We were very suspicious when we got word that they wanted to arrange a meeting with me.”

The emperor picked up a stack of papers on his desk and handed them to Jon. “Two months ago, my main forces pushed the Altmer out of Valenwood. From there we set up a blockade between the Summerset Isle and the rest of Tamriel. This wouldn’t have been possible if you hadn’t burned well over half their fleet during The Dragonborn’s Wrath.”

“According to one of our spies, six months ago, mid battle of The Second Great War, there was an outbreak of what the High Elves are calling dragon pox. Apparently, the Summerset Isles have been devastated by this disease, mostly children. Several thousands have died, almost an entire generation of their young have perished.”

The emperor looked grim, the death of children was always a sad affair, even if it was the enemies’ children. “My trusted advisors and I sat down with the Thalmor yesterday. They came to sue for peace. At one point they tried to make demands, I promptly shut them down. I informed them that we knew of their epidemic. I told them that the war was over. They had lost.”

Jon finished reading the reports and handed them back to the emperor. “What happens now?”

“I had already written the treaty to end this conflict before they arrived. I informed the leader of the Thalmor that it was nonnegotiable. That they would sign it, or we would finish them off.”

The emperor paused. Jon looked at him and raised his eyebrow imploringly. The old man and his dramatics. “And?”

He smirked at Jon’s exasperation. “They signed it, not without a lot of grumbly, of course. The terms were rather straight forward. The Aldmeri Dominion is to be henceforth, disbanded. The Summerset Isles will once again become a province of the Imperial Empire. The Altmer will govern their province with strict empire enforced restrictions. They will not form a military force for the next thirty years; empire generals and solders will occupy Summerset as its military and law enforcers in that time. The empire will send its best healers from all over Tamriel to help offset the spread of the dragon pox.”

Jon thought those terms were fair, after all it had been Altmer that had started this entire conflict. “What about the other provinces? Will they be okay with these terms? Some may think them lenient.”

“There are a couple other stipulations, the ones I told you of are the most important. I suppose we will find out tonight if it appeases the other provinces. I invited envoys from all over Tamriel. I intend to announce the signing of The Treaty of the White Dragon at tonight’s dinner.”

The emperor’s smiled brightly at Jon, making him more than a little nervous. “I will also have another announcement to make, one concerning you and the future of Tamriel.”

The emperor’s smile dimmed as his expression turned solemn. “As you probably already know, I have no heirs.” Jon’s froze, his breath catching. Oh gods, not again, he thought. “Both of my sons were killed in The First Great War and my one Grandson more recently in the Second. I am the last male descendant of the Mede line. However, there is one last female. Three months ago, my grandson’s wife gave birth to a daughter. She is the spitting image of her father, a strong and healthy babe.”

Jon was starting to feel like he knew where this was going. “I would like to betroth my granddaughter and your son, Kodlak. Also, in the event that I pass on before your son is of age, you will be names Lord Regent and acting emperor until you deem the two ready to rule.”

Jon sighs. “Your grace, you honor me-“

The emperor smiles kindly at Jon before interrupting him. “I already know you do not want it. You are not a man consumed with greed or envy. You are a good man. I know that you have done things you have regretted, we all have. However, because of you, all of Tamriel is united once again. My family united Tamriel through conquest, you united them through your own actions and words.”

“That is not the only reason I have chosen you and your line as my successors.” The emperor stands and picks up the box that had been sitting to his left while they were talking. He speaks as he makes his way around the desk and towards Jon.

“At the beginning of the Third Era, the Septim Rule was established. Most believe the High Elves were responsible for the end of the Oblivion Crisis. They would be wrong. It was the sacrifice of the last Septim that closed the oblivion gate for good and ended the Third Era.”

He was now standing in front of Jon. As he sat the box in front of them Jon also stood. He opened the box and took out an amulet, handing it to Jon.

“The Amulet of Kings was shattered in order for the last Septim to close the Oblivion Gate. However, soon after the Gate was closed, the Amulet reformed. No one was sure why, not many knew it still existed. I believe it existed for this very moment. It exists for you.”

The emperor motioned for Jon to put the amulet on. Jon did as he was bid, the amulet fastening around his neck. The amulet shone brightly; Jon felt adrenaline rush through him. He felt his entire being overflow with power. It was similar to when he absorbed a dragon soul but multiplied tenfold. After the shining stopped, the feeling still lingered for a few moments before it seemed to settle within him. He traced the edges of the amulet with reverence. It felt so familiar, like a piece that he never knew had been missing.

When Jon finally looked back at the emperor he was still smiling gently, with a look of amazement in his eyes. “You were glowing, just now. It felt like the whole room swelled with power. I’ve never seen something so amazing in all my years.”

The emperor rests his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Please grant an old man this selfish request. Let me put a worthy emperor, with dragons’ blood, back on the throne. With a father like you, I’m sure your son will be the emperor this country needs in these coming times of peace. As well as the emperor to defend the peace, should the need arise.”

“I am not from this country, are you so sure that the people will accept me and mine?”

“The people have already accepted you. If that were not enough, you are the dragonborn. The blood of Akatosh runs through your veins. The people are calling you Talos reborn. The only province you are not practically worshiped in is the Summerset Isles. Even there the people fear and admire you.”

Jon knew he was right. All over Skyrim the people treating him like some kind of God. When he had visited the other provinces, they had treated him with respect and reverence as well.

“If I accept, will you still allow me and my family to go to Westeros?”

The emperor started making his way around his desk, back to his seat. “If you do accept, I think it would be best if you planned for an extended stay in Westeros. While the people may admire you, I will need some time to convince the nobility to come around. I wouldn’t put it past them to go after your family. What better way to get my heirs out of harm’s way than sending them to a faraway country that we know nothing about?”

He smiled mischievously. “They won’t try to kill my granddaughter; she is the key to holding the throne. That is, if they take care of you first. If my granddaughter does not make it to adulthood, I still intend for the throne to pass on to you and your son. In fact, officially, you will be my heir. The betrothal is just a stipulation. You may step down for your son whenever you wish. Elisif is young, she can rule for many years still to come.”

Jon thought for a moment about what Serana had said to him when he had told her about Elisif asking him to be her heir. She had told him that he should follow his heart. He should do what he thought was right and she would always stand beside him.

He had always wanted to do more for the people of Skyrim, he just hadn’t had the power. After being made heir, he did. While traveling through the many provinces his mind had been racing with thoughts of how he could help the people of Tamriel, how he could improve relations between the many races.

He had fought beside so many different people, mer, and beastmen. He had come to know their customs and beliefs. He knew there were good and bad in every race, he had met many of both. If he were to accept the emperor’s offer, he would have the power to act on all the ideas had formed over his venture in Tamriel.

He would also be leaving a legacy for his son to inherit. If he were to have a second child, they would be the future King or Queen of Skyrim. If he and Serana could have one child, surely, they could have more. In the event that they couldn’t, Elisif would live for many more years. More than enough time for his son to ascend the throne and Jon to go back to Skyrim to rule.

Jon realized he had already made up his mind. Tamriel was his home, he would see peace last, and its people grow strong.

“Your grace, I will accept. However, I will not force either your granddaughter or my son into an arranged marriage. However, I will accept a tentative betrothal.”

The emperor nodded. “That will have to do. I had expected you to refuse outright, this is more than I could have hoped for.”

The emperor stood once again. Jon noticed he was quite spry for his age. Jon hoped he would live for many more years to come. “I will announce you as my heir tonight. I will also announce the tentative betrothal between your son and my granddaughter. I will give you time to prepare.” The emperor reached Jon and extended his hand. Jon stood as well, taking his hand in his own. They exchanged meaningful looks, before parting ways.

*****

When Jon arrives at the party he is dressed in mostly black, his signature color, as his wife often loved to point out. He spotted Divad almost immediately, considered his large size, and made his way over to his friend.

“Jon! It’s good to see you! Here, have some wine I brought from Hammerfell, I even brought the kind you like.” Divad hands him a goblet of wine and starts introducing him to people around him. After talking with these people for several minutes, he starts glancing around the room.

He catches the eyes of an Altmer, who had already been staring at him. His eyes held so much hatred Jon was taken aback for a moment. He held his gaze for a moment before looking away. Jon understood that many of the Altmer were going to hate him, he had killed thousands of them on the battlefield in one of the most gruesome battles in Tamriel’s history.

Jon tried not to let it affect him. It was the Altmer who started this conflict. Had he not acted how he did this war would have dragged on for decades and resulted in thousands more deaths.

Jon made his way through the room, talking to those he knew and those he didn’t. If he was to rule these people, he would need to get to know them. Many of the others in the room stayed far away from the Altmer. Most shot glares and hateful looks their way.

After an hour the emperor made his entrance. “Introducing his Imperial Majesty, Titus Mede ll.”

Everyone looked up at the terrace as the emperor came out, all bowing when he was in sight. Jon notice the Altmer bowed last and not as low as others.

The emperor thanked everyone for coming and announced the reason for the summons. He told them what he had told Jon, the stipulations of The Treaty of the White Dragon. They were all shocked to hear about the epidemic in the Summerset Isles. Most seem pleased with the treaty, some seemed less than, but stayed quiet on the matter. Around the end of his speech, he grew a bit more somber.

“I’m sure many of you have heard of the death of my grandson, he left behind a wife and a daughter. He was dearly loved and will be dearly missed.” Everyone grew quiet, with a silent respect to their past prince.

“With his passing I am left as the only male decedent of the Mede line. As such I have need of a successor. As it would be, my first choice has done me the honor of accepting. As of today, I name Jon Whitewolf my successor and heir.”

His decree is met with hushed whispers. At once all eyes are on him, the Altmer are, unsurprisingly, outraged. The emperor beckons him forward, towards the terrace. Jon makes his way to stand beside the emperor and looks out at the many in front of him. For the most part the people seem pleased.

The Bretons of High Rock seemed mostly indifferent, though some seemed to welcome the news. Jon hadn’t travelled to High Rock yet; he didn’t know its people as well as the other provinces. High Rock was the first province invaded during The Second Great War, though only a small area. Most of the people who were unable to flee from Farrun had been ruthlessly murdered by the Thalmor. They saw the Bretons mixed blood as sacrilegious and tainted.

The people of Hammerfell seemed more than happy with the announcement. The nobles of Hammerfell were thinking of their king’s close relationship with their future emperor and how they could use it to their advantage. Divad had a huge smile on his face and seen content to see the young man acknowledged for his feats.

The dunmer of Morrowind looked to be overjoyed. Most of the Great Houses had supported him, especially Telvanni. His stay in Solstheim had left him a friend of dunmer and an honorary member of house Telvanni.

The Argonian seemed contented, some more than others. Jon hoped he had made a lasting impression on the argonians of Black Marsh. He had left there feeling confident that the people thought better of him than most others.

The Khajiit of the now reinstated Elsweyr Confederation and the bosmer of the more recently freed Valenwood seemed mostly indifferent as well. Jon hadn’t been to either of these provinces. He did, however, know many bosmer and Khajiit personally. Jon felt confident that he could win them over.

The High Elves of the Summerset Isles were none too pleased. The leader of the Altmer didn’t look enraged like the rest, just resigned. When Jon looked at him, he noticed how tired he looked, like all the fight had been drained out of him. Jon remembers the epidemic in the Summerset Isles. He wondered if that had anything to do with their leaders’ mood.

The emperor begins to speak once again, his strong voice resonating though the room. “It was those with the dragon’s blood that united all of Tamriel many hundreds of years ago. It would be my honor to restore the dragon’s blood to the throne once again. Jon, the amulet?” Jon pulls the amulet out from under his shirt for all to see. Those in the room are shocked to silence. Even the Altmer forgot their hatred long enough to gawk at the amulet Jon had revealed.

The emperor wore a cocky smirk before speaking once again. “Many believed the amulet lost to time or destroyed. As you can see it was not. My family has kept it safe, until now. Soon we will usher in a new era. An era, once again, of dragonborn emperors.”

With that the room erupted in clapping and cheering. Jon smiles pleasantly, hoping his nerves didn’t show. He felt the emperor’s hand once again on his shoulder. He looked at him and saw him smiling mockingly, as if to say, I told you so.

*****

Jon spent the rest of the week getting to know the representatives that had attended the emperors summons. He tried to focus on the representatives of High Rock, Elsweyr, and Valenwood, as he hadn’t formed any relationships with their provinces as of yet.

When he mentioned that he would be journeying to a newly discovered continent the High Rock representative, a Breton by the name of Olyver, was very interested in knowing more. He explained a bit of what he knew about the customs and people of Westeros. By mid-conversation he had attracted quite a crowd. Even some of the Altmer were listening and asking questions.

Jon didn’t know what to think of the interest many were taking in his homeland of Westeros. Olyver, a Breton, expressed interest in coming with him. He offered to provide more of his own ships. He also offered to map trade routes between the continents of Tamriel, Westeros, and even Essos.

Jon didn’t see any harm in allowing him to join him on his journey. The more relations he established with his homeland, the more excuses he would have to go and visit. He promised to meet with Olyver in the morning to draw up the details. Jon would meet with many over the course of the week for various reasons. He tried talking to some of the Altmer representatives, but this did not go over well. Their conversations were stilted and brief at best. He had a much easier time with the Bosmer and Khajiit. He listens to their stories of being under the Aldmeri Dominions rule and what they were hoping to accomplish now that they were free. His most accomplished relationship was by far with the Bretons of High Rock. They had been overjoyed with the results of their meeting. The emperor himself had approved of them joining Jon on his journey.

By the end of the week Jon was exhausted, he had never suffered so much politicking in his life. On the last day, Jordis had to practically drag him out of bed.

“Jon, please, you have a meeting with the emperor right after we break our fast, you must get up.” Jordis was absolutely done with Jon after three failed attempts to rouse him out of bed.

Jon peeks out from under his pillow to blink with exaggerated disbelief at her. “Did you just use my name? Am I about to die?” Jordis makes as if to grab his pillow. “Alright, alright, I’m up.”

Jordis gives one more glare, promising retribution, before leaving Jon to get dressed. Having wasted most of his morning Jon quickly breaks his fast before he makes his way to the emperors solar.

The emperor is waiting for him as he enters. “Ah, Jon. Glad you could make it. I hope you are faring well. This can all be a bit tiresome for a person not used to this sort of lifestyle.” He gave Jon a knowing look and gestured for him to sit opposite him.

“I will admit I’ve found it a bit tedious. It is much more demanding than the court in Skyrim.” Jon was constantly being harassed by different nobles, constantly trying to win his favor or force their opinions on him.

“It’s not always so bad. Things are much more hectic with the end of the war and all the different representatives visiting. It’s been a long time since so many important figures have gathered in one place at one time. You’ve helped make history once again, my boy.” The emperor laughed mirthfully at Jon’s exhausted sigh.

The old emperor had grown quite fond of Jon, and Jon of him. Whatever Jon had expected when he had met Titus for the first time was not what he got. Titus was a friendly and most times soft spoken man. He had a pension for dramatics, much to Jon’s dismay. He could also be serious when the need arises. He had a presence about his, when he entered a room, he commanded the attention of all within.

After the emperor was done laughing at Jon’s expense he spoke again. “I hear you will be leaving today.” He didn’t seem upset, more like he expected it.

Jon nodded. “Yes, I’m expecting several friends and allies to arrive any day now. I want to be there when they do. I’m sure some have already arrived.” Jon was eager to see some of his friends he hadn’t seen in years.

“Yes, I’m sure you are also eager to be home with your family. The High Rock Representatives left yesterday. It should take them two to three weeks to get to Solitude. That should still leave you with plenty of time to prepare for your departure. I won’t keep you much longer. I just wanted to wish you luck and see you off. I do have one last piece of advice before you go.”

The emperor gazed at Jon solemnly for a moment. He seemed to be gathering himself before speaking. “While you are in Westeros do not forget who you are. There, you’re just a bastard of a great lord. Here, you are the future of our nation. Keep your family close and remember, you are dragonborn, and dragons bow to no one.”

Jon smiled slightly, taking his words to heart. “Thank you, your highness. We already have everything packed. Would you like to be on our way?”

The emperor stood up with a spring in his step. “Yes! Let’s be off! I’ve always wanted to see a dragon!”

Jon laughed at the emperor’s excitement. When he had asked Jon to let him see him off and meet the dragon he was known to ride he had been surprised. He really shouldn’t have been, knowing the emperor’s, eccentricities.

Jon and the emperor exited the solar. The emperor was escorted to his guard unit while Jon went with Jordis to get their supplies and gear. They quickly change into their armor and riding gear and meet the emperor and his guards at the entrance to the city and make their way to an open field.

OD AH VIING

The emperor and his guards all watched in fascination as Jon used the Thu’um. A few moments later Odahviing lands in the clearing near Jon. He eyes the men nearby distrustfully, his body coiled tightly, ready to attack any second.

“Be calm, friend. These men will cause you no harm. These are friends of mine who wished to see me off and meet you.”

Odahviing grumbled in displeasure. “I can barely stand the stench of that woman who insists on following you everywhere. I’d like to distance myself from these mortals,” he says the word mortals as if he is disgusted by the mere thought of them, “as soon as possible.”

Jon laughs outright. “What about me? Are you saying I stink too?”

“You have dragons’ blood; you smell like any other dovah.” Jon didn’t know how he should feel about that.

The emperor spoke then. “What is he saying?”

Jon snorted. “He says you stink and he’s ready to go.”

The emperor looked shocked for a moment before breaking out in laughter. Jon wondered if he would be okay, he had never seen him laugh like that. The guards didn’t know whether to be more shocked about what Jon had said to their emperor or that the emperor was laughing so openly.

Finally, he seemed to calm down. Wiping tears from his eyes he spoke once more. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Good luck, dragonborn.”

Jon smiled warmly. “Thank you, your highness.”

Jon looks to Odahviing. “Alright, let’s go!”

The dragon lets out an exasperated snort. “Finally.”

Chapter Text

After the tedious days spent in the Imperial city, Jon and Jordis were both eager to be home and away from the high court of Tamriel. They flew for the better part of the day and stopped at the newly rebuilt town of Helgen. Once there they spent a night at the local inn. After a good night’s rest and a hearty meal, they made the rest of their journey to Solitude the same day. Just as the sun began its decent upon the horizon, Jon and Jordis dismounted from Odahviing and made their way to the gate of Solitude.                        

The townspeople were waving and shouting as Jon and Jordis walked through the streets, welcoming their prince back from his journey. Jon was well loved among the vast majority of Skyrim’s citizens, but nowhere was he more revered than in Solitude. Jon often walked among them, getting to know as many as he could. From the wealthiest of merchants to the mothers shopping in the market, Jon made time for them all. It had become a common site for the citizens of Solitude to watch their prince pray his harp and sing, with a voice so captivating he would draw in everyone around him, to the children in the square. Earning himself the title of ‘The Bard Prince’ among the smallfolk.

Finally home, Jon made his way up the steps of Proudspire Manor with an excited smile on his face. Only to be met with a sight more terrifying than a cave filled with Falmer. His mother-in-law, Valerica.

From behind him Jordis breaths out silently. “Fuck.” Jon feels that is a perfectly valid reaction to the sight in front of them.

Valerica is sitting between his daughters, a large book that appears to be a grimoire of sorts. Despite the very large and suspicious book in her lap, she meets his eyes almost immediately, flashing him a nasty smile.

“Welcome home, son.” She draws as Jon steps fully into his home and Jordis shuts the door behind them. At her greeting both of his daughters look towards him with wide eyes and matching smiles. Jon barely has time to set down his gear before two small children latch on to him.

“Papa! Welcome home.” Despite the unpleasant surprise, he was happy to be home with his family. He cheerfully wraps both of his daughters in his arm and hugs them just as fiercely.

After greeting his daughters, Serana approaches him, having come from the cellar, smiling softly. “Welcome home, my love.” She greets him with a brief kiss and leads him to the sitting area his daughters had just come from.

Valerica is still sitting in the same spot, now without the nasty smile she had greeted him with, a neutral expression replacing it. The girls sit on either side of their father while Serana sits beside her mother. Jordis, after a nod from Jon, sits at the chair closest to the door.

“Now, what did the emperor have to say?” At Serana’s question, Jon goes on to tell everyone about what had happened at the Imperial city. Everyone listens with rapt attention, Serana interrupting when the betrothal is mentioned.

“A betrothal? Jon, our son just had his first name day.” Serana’s discontent is obvious to everyone listening.

Jon continues in a placating tone. “It is only a tentative betrothal, if Kodlak does not wish it, he will not have to marry her, and neither will she.” At this Serana softly scoffs.

“If our son inherits even a quarter of his father’s sense of duty he will marry the girl, whether he wants to or not.” Her eyes gaze at him intensely, brows softly furrowed, but her tone is fond, if a bit resigned.

Here Valerica intercedes. “I do not see what all the fuss is about. While Jon and I may not always see eye to eye, I believe his decision to be a sound one. One day Kodlak will be the most powerful man in all of Tamriel. Power is power, daughter. An arranged marriage is of no consequence.” While speaking her brows were furrowed as well, looking frightening like her daughter, if one were to ignore the upturned nose and condescending tone she used while speaking.   

Now it was Jon’s turn to frown. “Well, if you’re agreeing with me, maybe I have made a mistake.” Valerica’s nasty smile returns, showing far too many teeth, in Jon’s opinion.

His girls snickered softly behind their hands at their father and grandmother’s banter. It was a well-known fact to the Whitewolf family and friends that they were not fond of each other. Valerica had been livid when she discovered that Serana had cured her Vampirism. All for the love she bore for a mortal man. She had been beside herself with rage, only her love for her daughter staying her hand at vengeance. She hadn’t spoken to Serana for almost a year. Only putting aside her grievances after meeting her grandson and granddaughters. She had formed a close relationship with all of Jon and Serana’s children. Going so far as to teach Sofie both alchemy and conjuration when she visits.

After shushing the girls Serana gestures for Jon to continue. He doesn’t get very far before he is interrupted again, this time by Sofie. “The amulet of kings! Can I see it? Please, papa?” She looks up at him with her signature pouty lips and expectant eyes. Jon smiles softly at her and indulges her childish curiosity. As he pulls the amulet from beneath his shirt everyone, excluding Jordis, leans forward to get a better look. Even Valerica, who seems to always keep up a dignified front, is looking on in interest. After unlatching it from his neck, he hands it to Sofie to hold. From there everyone in the room inspects it with curiosity. Valerica inspects it for the longest with thinly veiled interest before giving it back to Jon.

With everyone’s curiosity sated, Jon launches back to his conversation with the emperor. Once he finishes explaining the surrender of Altmer, Valerica is the one to interrupt.

“Dragon pox? Aren’t high elves known to have exceptional immune systems?” Her tone was curious but her face neutral as she spoke.

Jon continued. “While it is true that high elves have an above average immunity to most diseases, this disease is new, and seems to almost specifically target Mer. The disease targets the magical reserves of its victim, slowly depleting them of their magicka. It is more deadly when contracted by the younger Mer, as their magicka reserves are smaller and still developing. The saying that high elves are magic made flesh is commonly known for a reason. This is why they were so affected by the disease. The older and more powerful adults could fight off the disease with little difficulty and with minimal lasting effects. The children were not as lucky. The mortality rate for all Mer children was high, three out of every five children who contracted the virus perished. As for the surviving children, two out three were left with permanent side effects, including magicka reserves that may never again grow. Over half a generation of high elves have been lost to the disease.” Jon finished sadly.

Both Sofie and Lucia looked saddened and shocked by the news. While they had known their fair share of hardships in their short lives, being two-and-ten and three-and-ten name days respectively, it did not quite prepare them for such news. Valerica and Serana looked solemn as Jon spoke, hearts heavy for the children lost to such a fate.

Jon finished his tale with few additional interruptions. At one-point Sofie and Lucia had inquired about Divad and were told that he was doing well and had asked after them as well. After he had finished his tale, he asked if he had received any replies to the many letters he had sent before his departure to Solstheim.

At his inquiry Serana seemed to perk up. “You received several letters while away, I have read through them and replied to the more urgent ones. They are in your solar. You will be pleased to know that two of our guests have already arrived, and a third unexpected one as well.” At this Serana’s smile turned mischievous. He did not have to wonder why for long as the surprise guest spoke from behind him.

“Honestly, you would think with this being the home of the dragonborn the security would be a lot tighter.” He turned to see Sapphire, smirking back at him.

“By the nine, woman. How long have you been there?” Jon asked in fond exasperation.

She continues, wreaking of nonchalance. “Since you took out the amulet to pass around. Honestly Jon, you seem to be losing your touch, not a good look for Nocturnals chosen. Tsk tsk.”

“Who in their right mind would try and steal from the legendary dragonborn? If my lofty titles do not scare them away, I’m sure my wife can take them down with nary a hair out of place.” Jon says in an overtly snooty voice, causing his daughters to break out in giggles and his wife to smirk wickedly.

Sapphire sneers slightly in distaste. “That damnable snarky mage is rubbing off on you. How you are friends with him I will never understand.”

As Jon rolled his eyes at Sapphires quip, Serana continued. “Illia and Valdimar arrived two nights ago. Valdimar has been given a bed in the Housecarl quarters. I have put Illia in the family wing, next to the girls’ room.” At the mention of Illia’s name Jon’s disposition brightened significantly.

Jon had been just three-and-ten name days old when he had gotten lost in the storm that had taken him from Westeros and into the Stormcloak ambush. He had been scared, alone, and in an unfamiliar land. After narrowly escaping Helgen, he had made his way to Riverwood and then Whiterun. It was only by complete luck that he made it through Bleak Falls Barrow and defeating the dragon outside of Whiterun with the help of the city’s guards. Everyone had been calling him Dragonborn and saying that he needed to go to The Greybeards to fulfill his ‘duty’.

It was at this time that Jon had met Kodlak Whitemane, the man who would quickly become more than just a mentor, but his family. Jon had spent a full year living and sometimes fighting with the members of the Companions. After coming to Tamriel his reflexes had become faster, his body unnaturally strong and hardy. He had flourished under Kodlak’s tutelage and within the year could easily hold his own against over half of the Companions.

He had become close friends with Farkas and Vilkas, with them being the closest to his age. The twins had trained, laughed, and fought with him. Aela and him becoming closer later, after the death of Skjor when Jon was six and ten.

Jon set out on his own to answer The Greybeard’s summons not long after he was four-and-ten. He had been set upon by a group of bandits during a winter storm and lost his way. It was while he was lost that he met Illia. She had been fighting a mage who had been trying to stop her from leaving the tower when Jon found her.

Illia became concerned for Jon, saying that as powerful as Jon was, a boy of four and ten name days shouldn’t be out on his own in Skyrim. Illia had traveled with him to the Throat of the World and accompanied him on many adventures thereafter. She has become like a big sister to him, they cared for each other like family. Illia had taught him magic and helped him discover his natural proclivities for illusion magic and how to use his raw power to create potent and destructive fire and ice spells. She had been puzzled at first. Most mages either excelled in fire magic or frost magic, very rarely both and never to such an extent.

She had been with him when he decided to join the College of Winterhold, even going so far as to join as well, as her mother never allowed for a formal magical education. After saving the college and being appointed the Archmage, Jon decided to leave the college and continue his quest to defeat Alduin. Illia had decided to stay and finish her education. Even after all these years they kept in touch with each other. Jon has even given one of his homes to his pseudo sister. Windstad Manor had been built especially with Illia in mind. It was close to Solitude that she could visit as often as she wanted. His children also adored her, calling her ‘Aunt Illia’. Valdimar had remained there to help guard the home from bandits and the occasional giant. Illia and Valdimar were more than a match for any who came poking around looking to stir up trouble.

Jon was looking at Serana when he spoke. “Is she around?”

Serana smiles softly. “She and Valdimar are visiting the gold district, I’m sure they will be home in time for dinner. Perhaps now would be a good time for you to look at those letters. The girls still need to finish their alchemy lesson.”

She looked at the girls pointedly, both pouted before taking their seats beside their grandmother once more. Jon makes his way to his study, ruffling Lucia’s hair as he passes, earning himself an indignant huff from the offended party and a giggle from Sofie.

*********

Proudspire Manor is one of the largest homes located in the blue district of Solitude. The home is three stories tall, not including the sizeable cellar. The third story is made up of several guest rooms, a library, and a recreational room, used primarily for the girls’ studies. The family quarters made up the entire second floor, this includes 6 bedrooms and a solar. One room had been turned into a research room, where Jon practiced and experimented with enchanting. The ground floor is where the kitchen, living, and dining areas are located. The cellar includes an extensive alchemy laboratory as well as a vault built by Jon himself for his riches and weapons. The servant and housecarl quarters were also located in the cellar, servant quarters were mostly empty except for one cook and two maids.

Solitude is the largest city in Skyrim, with a population of just over 250,000 citizens. While mostly made up of nords, there are still a sizeable number of Mer and Beastmen living in the various districts. The queen, as well as the nobility of Solitude, live in the blue district, the smallest of the seven. The soldiers and guards made up most of the red district, as well as their families, if they had one. Also located in the red district is the Solitude jail. The gold district includes the market square, shops, taverns, smiths, and brothels. There are other inns and taverns located in various other districts, but the most popular are located within the gold district. The largest of the inner-city districts is the green district. This district is home to the middle working class and their families. The brown district is inhabited by the poor and riddled with illegal activity. The brown district is home to several secret markets and organizations that aren’t strictly legal. The last two districts are located outside of the city gates. The white district is made up of farmland and fishing areas. Many stables, farms, and breweries can be found here. This district is also the largest of the seven. After years of her requests being rejected, Maven Black-Briar has recently started a branch of Black-Briar mead in this district. She was only able to achieve this after receiving permission from the prince himself. The final district is the black district, home to the largest and most diverse port in all of Skyrim. This district is always filled with activity, both legal and not. It is also a major port for the East Empire Company.

Jon sat within this solar, reading through the letters he had received while away from home. He picks up the letter bearing the seal of the Winterhold College. Tolfdir has written to him, letting him know that he is sending a group of experienced fire mages, all volunteers, for his trip to Westeros. He mentions that they will arrive in a fortnight and to arrange for them to stay at a local inn. Jon notices Serana’s penmanship at this point in the letter, marking this task as completed. He smiles at the letter, thinking on how luck he is to have such and amazing woman by his side. His smile is wiped from his face as he gets to the end of the letter. Here Tolfdir ‘casually’ mentions that he is sending the ‘strongest’ fire mage that the college has to lead the group, J’zargo. Swearing creatively to himself, he sets the letter to the side with a bit too much force, before moving on to the next.

This letter is sealed normally, giving away nothing as to who it may be from. However, as soon as he sees the curved and exaggerated handwriting there is no doubt who the letter was written by. Marcurio has written to him, letting him know that he and Iona have left his home in Riften and will be arriving in Solitude a few days before they are meant to leave for Westeros. He also briefly mentions how he may not make it at all if Iona keeps her promise to gut him and leave his corpse along the road for the bears to find. Jon huffs out a fond laugh at his friend’s dramatics.

The next letter is from Delvin. He tells him that Sapphire is in Solitude for a job and should be willing to accompany him. He also tells him that he is sending three volunteers from the guild, Etienne Rarnis, Niruin, and Rune. Jon is already thinking on how he can use these new additions while he is in Westeros.

He finds that he has received letters from almost all his housecarls, Lydia, Argis, Calder, Rayya, and Gregor. All reports are mostly the same. They will be bringing various supplies from their respective regions and will be leaving the stewards to oversee each home. Lydia’s is the only one to include something different. She lets him know that she, Aela, and Farkas will be traveling together with a few other companions who volunteered.

He also belatedly reads the letter from Illia, stating that she and Valdimar will arrive in a few days’ time. He reads a few more letters from Jarls and Stewarts before he set them all aside.

Finished with his letters, Jon sits back and begin the reminisce about his adventure in Skyrim. After parting ways with Illia in Winterhold, Jon had found himself in need of a new traveling companion. He had, on a whim, hired the help of Marcurio. At the time he would have never imagined that the snarky mage would become his closest friend and confidant. Marcurio had been with him when he was recruited by the thieves guild and together they had brought the dwindling organization back to life. It was with Marcurio that he learned the world was not made up of good and evil, black or white. After six months of adventuring together they had met Borgakh the Steel Heart. The same orc woman who would adventure with them for years to come.

They had been restocking some of their supplies when they met Borgakh at an Orc Stronghold. Jon had gotten to know her after rounds of fists and drinks. He had encouraged her to follow her heart, not to just marry whoever her father commanded her too. It was his belief that everyone should have the freedom to make their own way in the world. He had even paid off her dowry, leaving with her the next day, 500 septims lighter and a companion heavier.

She and Marc had gotten along surprisingly well. Borgakh nicknaming Marc and Jon ‘pretty boys’ and Marc referring to her as ‘a beast of a woman’, which Borgakh took with pride. Their adventures had been the most exciting, and often times most dangerous, of their lives. They had been with him when he had lost both Skjor and Kodlak. It was with his these two, his closest friends, that he defeated Auduin and saved the world.

After defeating Alduin, they had all three joined the Imperial army. The three had quickly moved up the ranks given their strength and reputation. Jon had become one of the top generals in the army with Borgakh becoming his second in command. Together they lead the foot soldiers in the front lines. Marcurio became the head of the Empires battlemages, obliterating the enemies’ frontlines, leaving them open for Jon and Borgakh to sweep the field for the remains.  To this day she still swore over a bottle of ale, that she had led with a battle cry so fierce it had Stormcloak soldiers shitting themselves.

After the Civil War had ended Borgakh stayed in Solitude and became a leading general of Skyrim’s army and was put in charge of training Solitudes guards. Jon could often find her in the training yards, putting the fear of Talos into any new recruits she was training that day. She came over to his home, even when he was away, to have dinner with his family and help with his daughter’s sword lessons. Lucia in particular admired her, wanting to be a fierce warrior, just like Aunt Borg.

A knock at the door of his solar brought him out of his reminiscing. “Come in.” From where he was seated, facing the door, he watched as Illia walked in, smiling happily at him. Before she could close the door completely, Jon was out of his seat and spinning her around in his arms as she laughed loudly.

“Put me down you big oaf! Honestly, sometimes I can’t believe how big you’ve gotten. I remember when you were just a wee runt of a boy.” He sits her down gently and is assaulted by pinches to his cheeks in retribution for his behavior.

Jon had grown taller than even his father, standing six foot, three inches tall at twenty name days. Even at fourteen when he had met Illia, he had been tall for his age, have grown almost a whole foot in his first year in Skyrim alone. His dark curly hair had been short and cropped where Lady Stark had sheared it awkwardly. Now his hair hung in bouncy waves just below his shoulder. He put it in a bun or tied it up when leaving home or out on an adventure. He had considered cutting it for awhile but decided against it when Serana mentioned that it looked good on him. Marc had been smug for weeks afterwards when Jon suddenly no longer wanted to have it trimmed.

Jon and Illia quietly chatted while walking to the dining room, arm in arm. Upon walking into the dining room, he was greeted by many faces. To the right of his seat at the head was Serana with a small highchair sitting beside her with Kodlak messily eating some mashed fruits and vegetables, Valerica watching him with a slight smile. Across from them were Lucia and Soffie. Illia took her seat beside Sofie, with Valdimar standing to pull out her seat and take the seat beside her. Jon watched them suspiciously, watching Illia smile fondly at Valdimar and him at her. Sapphire sat beside Valerica, talking softly with Jordis.

After Jon and Illia had gotten comfortable everyone tucked in and talked quietly to each other. Sofie was talking excitedly to Illia about her lesson with Valerica, Jon listening silently while also glaring subtly at Valdimar as he made eyes at Illia beside him.

Suddenly, the front door opens loudly, slamming shut moments later. Familiar, heavy footsteps could be heard walking towards the dining area. From behind Jon, he could hear the maid huff in exasperation and quickly walk to the kitchen, likely in search of a plate and utensils for their new guest. Lucia turned to her father, smiling brightly, practically vibrating in her seat with excitement. Serana and Jordis smiled slightly in exasperation, Jordis rolling her eyes for good measure. Valerica sneers in distaste, looking at her one would think she had smelt something displeasing. Illia and Valdimar, after a slight pause, continued their quiet conversation.

Borgakh stomps in, barely pausing to take in the room. “Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time, was having to much fun with the new round of recruits.” She smiles nastily before walking towards Jon. Jon stands just in time to be almost lifted from his feet in one of Borgakh’s bear hugs. “How have you been, pretty boy?”

Borgakh is ruffling both girl’s hair when the maid hurries back into the dining room with her tableware. She takes a seat next to Valdimar, and winks flirtatiously at the maid filling her glass. The maid reddens slightly, winks back at her before sauntering away. Jon gives Borgakh an exasperated look. She smirks and winks back at him.

Dinner soon returns to normal, if not a bit more boisterous than before. Once everyone was starting on dessert Illia stood and asked for everyone’s attention.

“Valdimar and I have some news we would like to share with everyone.” Here she looks towards Valdimar, he stands as well, taking Illia’s hand in his. “Valdimar and I have decided to be married. We wanted to have the wedding before we leave for Westeros.” Here she looks at Jon, hopefully. “While I know I do not need your blessing, I want it all the same. We may not share blood, but you are my family, my little brother. So, what say you?”

Jon smiles happily, his joy clear for all to see. “All I’ve ever wanted for you is your happiness. I am grateful for you to have found that happiness in Valdimar. You have my blessing, sister, for now and always.” Illia’s eyes glistened with tears as she and Jon embraced for the second time that night. They pulled away slightly, still holding each other close, basking in the others’ happiness. Jon leans down to kiss her on the top of her head.

He releases her before turning to Valdimar, holding out his hand. Valdimar shakes it, looking Jon in the eyes, smiling. “Thank you, my prince. I promise to honor Illia and protect her always, you have my word.”

Jon is smiling as well. “I am sure you will, you are a good man. I am glad that fate has brought you and Illia together. I am sure I do not have tell you the consequences of hurting my sister?”

Valdimar smiles ruefully. “No, my prince. I am quite aware.” Illia smacks Jon’s arm playfully, “Really, Jon?” Jon smiles back at her, unperturbed.

Serana stands and gestures towards the same maid as earlier. “Mia, please get our best wine and ale from the cellar. Tonight, we celebrate!” Everyone but Valerica cheers at this, even Sapphire, who never turns down a free drink. The girls are talking excitedly to their aunt about her upcoming wedding. Wanting to know the color of the dress, where it will be held, when it will be. After a few moments Mia comes back with the wine and ale, pouring everyone a cup. The girls are even given some wine, watered down. By the time everyone has had a glass Borgakh is ready for a refill.

Everyone is almost finished with dessert when Borgakh looks over at Valerica. Valerica hadn’t had anything to eat, occasionally sipping on her dark red wine and talking softly with those beside her. Jon notices the moment that Valerica and Borgakh’s eyes meet.

“Only wine again, Val? Startin to think you never eat!” Borgakh smiles evilly at Valerica, whose sneer only deepens.

“I had a rather large lunch.” At this she smiles with too many teeth, flashing her fangs, eyes staring hatefully back at Borgakh. Jon hides his grin by taking a swig of ale.

Borgakh smiles back too, tusks on full display, before taking a bite of her dessert, continuing to talk. “Not much into wine myself, have any recommendations?”

 Valerica, losing her composure a bit, does not hide her disgust at the open display of horrid table manners. From the satisfied look on Borgakh’s face, was exactly what she wanted. “I doubt a dog such as yourself could appreciate the subtle flavors of a fine vintage.”

Borgakh swallowed, staring back at Valerica, seeming to be contemplating something, before smirking. “I think you would be surprised at the kind of vintages – “here she looks Valerica up and down lustfully, “I would enjoy.”

Jon chokes on his ale, Serana smacking him on the arm, barely containing a smile herself. Meanwhile, Valerica’s normally pale face is lightly pink and looks more indignant the Jon has ever seen her. “You foul beast!” She stands up suddenly and shoots a reproachful look towards Borgakh before storming from the dining room.

Borgakh is smirking with satisfaction at a job well done. Serana is looking at her disapprovingly, her eyes betraying her amusement. Jon, finally done coughing up his ale commends her. “If you keep that up, I’ll have to ask you to come to every family dinner.”

At Lucia and Sofies’s confused expressions Jon and Borg break out into loud, booming laughter. Even Sapphire has a small, amused smile on her face.

***********

Not long after Borgakh’s spectacle everyone retires to the sitting room. Jon fills Borgakh, Illia, Valdimar, and Saphire in on his dream and what they hope to accomplish once in Westeros.

They drank and spoke late into the night, having sent all the children to bed early. Serana discussed the wedding with Illia, helping her decide some details. Borgakh and Jon were well into their cups by the end of the night, singing obnoxiously, much to everyone’s amusement. Illia and Valdimar were the first to turn in. A very tipsy dragonborn giving her one last spin and kiss on the cheek before she could leave.

The next morning found Sapphire and Jordis nursing their own nauseating hangovers while glaring resentfully at a chipper Jon while he broke his fast. He smiles brightly at them. “You ladies look horrid this morning, was it something you ate?”

Sapphires lips curled. “If you don’t stop your shit now, Whitwolf, I’m going to smash the sunshine right out of that infernal smile of yours.” Jordis flashed the middle finger, seemingly in agreement.

Not one to be discouraged, Jon’s smile widens further. Just as he was about to open his mouth, with something clever, no doubt, loud steps could be heard coming from the cellar. Borgakh, looking no worse for wear when one considers the amount of ale she consumed the night before, sits beside Jon serving herself from the spread laid out on the table.

Successfully distracted, Jon turns to Borgakh. “Did you just come from the cellar? Forgive me if I am mistaken, but do you not have your own room in the family wing?”

Borgakh smiles innocently back at Jon. “I find the beds in the servants’ quarters to be most comfortable.”

Jon scoffs. “Yes, I’m sure you do. And it’s just by chance you prefer Mia’s bed to your own?” Jon smirks mockingly, bringing his cup to his mouth.

Suddenly, from the entrance to the dining room Sofie asks, innocently. “Papa, why would Aunt Borg sleep in Mia’s bed instead of her own?”

Jon chokes on his water when he catches his wife’s glaring eyes from behind Sofie and Lucia at the entrance to the dining room. Borgakh takes one look at Serana and the puzzled looks on the girls faces and is unable to contain her delighted laughter.

************

The next week has everyone busy for various reasons, the most noteworthy being preparation to go to Westeros. The wedding between Illia and Valdimar is scheduled to take place the night before they set sail for Westeros. The next month seems to fly by as one group after another arrives in the Skyrim capital to prepare to follow their dragonborn across the sea to a faraway land.

The Skaal arrive the morning after Jon. Jon has them stay in an inn located in the white district, away from the loud and busy city. All the Skaal, including Frea, were grateful for this. Nikulas being the only exception. He is seemingly fascinated by Solitude and can be found almost everyday exploring the city with some of the younger Skaal to accompany them. Frea and Morwen visit often, cooing over Kodlak and teaching the girls ancient Skaal fighting techniques. Borgakh and Frea become quick friends, holding drinking competitions multiple times a week in the Winking Skeever. Much to the entertainment of the locals, they manage to drag Jon with them a few times. Watching their prince drink two hulking warrior women under the table quickly turns into a favorite song for the local bards to sing.

Aela, Farkas, and Lydia arrive with over a week to spare. Lydia taking up her bed in the Housecarls quarters and Farkas and Aela staying in guest rooms in the manor. Uthgerd the Unbroken had accompanied them as a volunteer and was given a room in the Winking Skeever, paid for by Jon.

 By this time the whole city was aware that Jon would be going on a diplomatic mission to a newly discovered continent. The whole city seems to be a whirlwind of excitement and gossip. This only worsens when Jon puts out an advertisement for maids, cooks, and handmaidens who would be willing to accompany him to Westeros.

The mages arrived and were given rooms in the Blue Queen’s Inn, an inn located in the blue district. Serana organized for J’zargo to have the best room, so as not to have him complaining and saying how J’zargo deserves the best. Jon has the volunteers from the Thieves Guild disguise themselves as servants while on the ship, staying at an inn located in the brown district until they leave.

Jon and Serana worked together to make sure that they would have enough supplies to last them until they arrived in Westeros. Jon takes advantage of his connections with the Khajiit Caravans and is able to get everything need in time for their departure. This also has the added bonus of meeting Kharjo once again, who offers to join him in his adventure overseas.

The dozens of trade ships from High Rock arrived less than a week before they were scheduled to leave for Westeros. Jon and Serana held several meetings with the Breton merchants and High Rock officials that would be coming with them to Westeros and then Bravos.

Not long before the wedding, Marcurio and Iona arrived in Solitude. Marc announcing his arrival in a typical Marc way, dramatically. Jon was having lunch with his family when Marc walked into the room and sat right beside him, in the spot Lucia had just vacated. “I am NEVER traveling with that woman again. She threatened to kill me no less then twenty-seven times. TWENTY-SEVEN. Look at my hair! I swear it’s been falling out due to the stress! Have you ever seen it look so horrible? It looks worse then went we were stuck in Blackreach for a week trying to find that damn snow elf. I started to hope she would kill me, as long as it meant I could escape the wench. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times that women could- Oh hello Serana! By the Nine you are positively glowing, you must let me your secret.”

A few days before the wedding he was having dinner with his family and his many guests when there was a knock at the door. The chatter around the table quieted as Jordis made her way to the front door. Everyone sat quietly, listening as Jordis talks with the person at the door. After a moment the door closes and two sets of feet make their way to the dining room. Jon hadn’t been expecting Divad to come in behind Jordis.

He is smiling when he walks in the room, his smile only broadening when his eyes land on Jon.” My friend! It has been ages since we last saw one another! Have you missed me?” Jon smiled back at him, leaving his seat to greet him with a handshake, before being pulled into a hug.

After the brief interruption, Divad was bullied by Sofie and Lucia into sitting between them. After patently answering all their questions, he goes on to tell Jon his reasons for coming. He tells them that he has left his daughter in charge of Hammerfell so that he may assist Jon in his journey to Westeros. Jon had told Divad about his dreams while visiting the emperor. Divad confessed that he had been conflicted but felt that he owned the Dragonborn his life. Fighting beside him was the least he could do for Jon.

The day before the wedding was to take place Jon receives another surprise visitor. Glover Mallory enters his solar after being escorted in by Jordis. Glover sits across from him and offers to accompany him on his journey. “I’m not much use in a fight these days, but I’m a damn good smith, lots better than the milk drinkers you have coming with you.” Jon himself had no skills in smithing. His skills were in enchanting the weapons afterwards. The decision was simple in the end. Jon secretly hopes that Glover and Sapphire will take the time to reconnect while on this adventure with him.

Before they knew it the day of the wedding was upon them. The ceremony was to take place in the Temple of the Nine Divines, with high priest Rorlund leading the ceremony. Illia’s gown is made by the same dress maker that made Vittoria Vici's dress. The only difference being her dress is green instead of pink.

As the guests all find their seats, Illia and Jon wait for Sofie to tell them to come out. Jon gazes at his sister in all but blood, shifting nervously beside him. She is a vision. Her dress is a soft green and the wreath upon her head is made from fresh sunflowers. Serana had applied a light covering of makeup as well. Despite her nervous disposition, she was glowing with happiness. It was a bittersweet moment for Jon, as he felt his longing for both Arya and Sansa keenly.

A gentle knock came from the door, startling Illia slightly. Knowing that this was their queue she faced him one last time. “How do I look?” Smiling softly at her he replied. “Like the most beautiful woman in the world.” She smiles softly back and faces forward. Jon wrapped his knuckles on the door, signaling that they were ready. The door opens before them, light spilling into the room.

*************

Even after warning everyone not to get too carried away with their celebrating, there were still quite a few obviously hungover the next morning. Jon had gathered everyone, excluding servants and the crew, in his manor for a brief meeting. Serana had similarly gathered said servants and crew at the docks for a more watered-down version of the speech he was now giving.

On either side of him stood Marcurio and Borgakh. Behind him stood Frea, Divad, Glover, and Sapphire. “Good morning, everyone. In less than two hours we will be leaving the port of Skyrim. I want to once again make something clear. If you board that ship, you may not come back to Skyrim for many years. I have no way of knowing how long we will stay in Westeros. If you are having any second thoughts, you may leave at this time. I will not shame you for it, nor hold it against you.” Jon pauses here for a minute, making eye contact every man and woman in front of him. None of their gazes’ waver, all of them confident in their decision to follow him.

Jon smiles. “Good. Now, I have a few last-minute appointments. I would have all my housecarls step forward.” Eight men and women step forward, backs straight and proud, gazing at Jon with a steadfast loyalty that few will ever know. “These eight men and women have sworn their swords in my service and have protects not only myself. but my family as well. They will continue to do so while in Westeros. You will be my personal guards while in court. You will be tasked with guarding my family and defending their lives if need be.”

Jon pauses before speaking again. “Valdmir, of all my housecarls it is you that is the wisest and the strongest. You will lead my personal guard. As a mark of your station, I have enchanted a full set of glass armor for you to wear. I have also enchanted a glass axe, just for you, called Dragon Frost. May they guard you well.”

“To Lydia, I give you The Pale Blade. To Argis, I give you Gauldur Blackblade. To Calder, I give you Dragons Thunder. To Gregor, I give you Stormfang. To Iona, I give you Daedra’s Claw and the Bow of Zephyr. To Jordis, Valdmir’s second in command, I give dragonsbane. And finally, to Rayya, I give Bloodscythe & Soulrender.” As he spoke Marc and Borgakh handed each weapon to its new owner.

Applause are given from all around the room as the housecarls move to stand behind Jon. After they have taken their places, Jon speaks again. “Illia, please come forward.” Illia comes to stand Infront of Jon, a barely there smiles on her face. “You are one the most powerful mages I know, and a master at restoration magic. I fear we will have great need of your skills at some point in our journey, and so I want you to be properly prepared.”

At this point Borgakh is handing the bundle over to Jon. When Illia’s eyes stray to it they widen in recognition. “To you I am giving my full set of Archmage gear, including the robes, crown, and amulet normally worn by the Archmage.” At this point Illia was unable to hold back her tears, staring at Jon in wonder as he placed three incredibly powerful items in her arms. She silently made her way to stand behind Jon, on her husband’s left-hand side.

“To Marcurio, I have already given him three of my most powerful staffs, Miraak’s Staff, Sanguine Rose & The Eye of Melka. And to Borgakh I have already given my best blade, The Bloodskal blade. These two are my right and left hand. Unless their orders go against mine own or my wife’s, they are to be followed as if I had given the order myself.” At this Jon pause, locking eyes with his more prideful allies.

Next, he calls Aela and Farkas forward. “To Aela, I give my Nightingale Bow and a special ring that I think you may find useful.” Aela takes the bow and ring from Marc staring in wonder at the Ring of the Hunt before placing it in her right hand, sending a wink Jons way. As she is taking her place behind him, he continues. “To Farkas, I give a Daedric Greatsword with my own enchantment, and a ring that you may also find useful.” Borgakh hands him the sword and the Ring of Hircine. When he sees what the ring is he laughs briefly at the irony before taking his place beside Aela.

Jon gestures to those around him. “The men and women behind and beside me have my utmost faith. I have trusted them to guard my back more times than I can count. I trust them to make decisions on my behalf, should a situation arise were I am not around to give orders.” Again, Jon looks every person, Mer, and Beastmen in the eyes before turning away.

“Now, I have also brought with me a large number of weapons I have found or enchanted myself over the years. Anyone may come and chose from the rest of the weapons behind me, consider it a part of your payment.” Jon smirks slightly, before stepping aside.

Once everyone had chosen their weapons, they all made their way to the dozens of ships that would be taking them to Westeros. As his ship left the harbor, Jon and Serana watched their daughter run up and down the deck, watching and the sailors in interest. Serena looks at Jon with a nervous smile. “No going back now.”

Jon smiles back, calmly. “No, no going back.”

Chapter Text

Meanwhile in Westeros . . .

King Robert Baratheon made his way to the small council chamber with his kingsguards, Sir Barristan Selmy and Sir Jaime Lannister. Robert had been attending more and more meetings since the arrival and subsequent departure of the envoy from Tamriel. Jon Arryn had been thrilled with Robert’s attendance, even if it was only to hear more about the incoming envoy from Skyrim.

He had been enraptured by the tales of both Tamriel and Skyrim. The leader of the crew that had been sent to treat with them, Hadvar, had told Robert many tales and histories of Tamriel, but mostly Skyrim. They had traded tales of their most recent wars over dinner and wine, mostly wine, in Robert’s case. Robert had spoken of his glory days during the war, alongside his brother in all but blood, Ned Stark. Hadvar had spoken of his unwillingness to kill his kinsman, but ultimate resolve to join the fight.

Hadvar had also spoken of the Prince of Skyrim and his adventures. He had told Robert of Jon’s defeat of Alduin and performance in the war. Robert has listened, enraptured by his tales of slaying dragons and leading men into battle. He had told Robert of the assassins’ guild that had haunted the shadows of Tamriel for thousands of years. The prince himself has told Hadvar the tale over a few pints of mead at a local tavern. The leader of the group of assassins had been trying to recruit Jon and had given him a trial. He was told someone had put a price on his head and that one of those people was in that room. Three people had been presented to him, bound, and gagged; he would have to kill one in order to leave the cabin alive. Instead of killing the civilians, he turned is blade on the assassin. He had then worked with the Imperial army to destroy the guild, all with Jon at the head.

Robert had not been the only one who had been in awe of the young prince and his adventures. Several tales had been shared between the King’s court and higher-ranking soldiers. The whole court had been talking about the envoy’s arrival and the foreign prince that the soldiers spoke of as if he were a god. Tommen has been trailing after a Khajiit soldier, asking every question he could think of. The soldier, Mokir, had been patient with the boy, telling him all he wanted to know about him and his people. The soldiers and sailors had been speaking to all within the city of the land they had come from and its prince.

The streets of Kings Landing were filled with tales from Tamriel and of a dragon slaying hero. There were many nobles and commoners alike that doubted these tales or thought them exaggerated. Even so, all the soldiers and sailors spoke with such conviction that more and more of the people of Westeros began to believe them. Traveling merchants from all over the known world were also subject to these tales and rumors, taking them back to their lands to spread the news of this foreign land even further.

Robert walks into the small council chambers, Sir Barristan trailing behind him and Sir Jaime shutting the door behind them to take his place outside. The chatter died down a bit while Robert and Barristan took their seats. The meeting continued with Lord Jon Arryn, the hand of the king, and Lord Stannis Baratheon, the master of ships, discussing the maintenance costs for the country’s ships with Lord Baelish, the master of coin. Robert waited, feigning interest when he needed to, till the end of the meeting to ask about the envoy, and whether there was any news.

Jon Arryn smiled placatingly. “Grand Maester Pycelle received a raven just this morning bearing the crest of Tamriel.”

At this the old Maester straightens and pulls out a letter with the dragon seal of the empire. “The letter was written by prince Jon Whitewolf himself, addressing the King.” At this he hands the letter to Robert, who takes it excitedly. Pycelle continues. “He tells us that the envoy has left Solitudes port and will be arriving in just over two moons, if the weather and tides show them good fortune. He mentions that he is bringing his entire family and a number of nobles and merchants from Skyrim and surrounding provinces.”

“Family?” Littlefinger asks imploringly.

Varys speaks up here. “He has a wife and son. He and Serana Whitewolf were married over two years ago and their son, Kodlak Whitewolf, just celebrated his first name day. It is said that she is very beautiful and has an active hand in Skyrim’s politics. He also has two adopted daughters. Lucia Whitewolf, who is three and ten name days, and Sofie Whitewolf, who is two and ten name days. He dotes on them as if they are his blood daughters.”

After Varys finishes Pycelle continues. “The letter brings more news. The emperor of Tamriel named the prince as his heir as well. Evidently, the country has just ended a great war that had almost ended the Mede male line. All that remains is the emperor himself and a female babe. As it stands prince Jon stands to not only rule as King of Skyrim, but as Emperor of Tamriel.”

Robert lets out a mirth filled laugh. “This Whitewolf fellow keeps getting more and more interesting! Jon! Make plans for a tourney to welcome our guests.”

*********

Olenna Tryell nee Redwyne had left luncheon with her son and his heir when she decided to take a stroll through Highgarden’s many rose gardens. She was being escorted by her guards, left and right, and would look to be lost in thought. Mace and Willas had been discussing the newly discovered continent, Tamriel.

Tamriel held great promise for her family. Oldtown would be the closest port between their respective continents. The discovery of a new continent always presented a chance to build relationships and broker trade agreements. A fool her son may well be, but even he knew that. Though Olenna knew her son would be more interested in getting to know the nations prince and various odd races than brokering trade agreements. Olenna would have to see to them herself, as her more competent grandson would not be able to make the trip to Kings Landing. Though she too was curious to meet an elf or cat man.

She looked forward to seeing if the rumors were true about this foreign prince. So seldom did men live up to their reputations. She would be bringing her granddaughters with her to Kings Landing, including her golden rose, Margaery. There would be many important lords and heirs present, hoping to meet this prince. With the blue rose of Winterfell set to marry the heir of house Karstark, her golden rose was sure to catch the prince’s eye. After all, who better for the golden stag than a golden rose.

Margaery had been unmarried for too long. The prince was now seven and ten and more than ready to marry. She would see her family grow strong. Even if she had to wrap her thorns around the entire country to see it done.

**********

Summer had lasted for eight years and was looking to be the longest Summer on record. Ned Stark knew that a long Summer meant an even longer Winter. Even with Winter nowhere in sight, Eddard Stark was still preparing for its arrival. He spends many afternoons pouring over parchment with detailed accounts of the North’s larders, granaries, and glass gardens.

While looking over these reports Maester Luwin entered his solar. “My Lord, a raven has arrived from King’s Landing.” Maester Luwin handed him the letter. It is written in Jon Arryn’s hand, and despite himself he is happy to hear from his father in all but blood.

Had Jon Arryn not been a strictly factual man, seldom giving in to fantastical thoughts, Ned would have thought him mad after reading his last letter sent all those months ago. The letter told of a faraway continent, filled with several races of humans, elves, and beastmen. It told of a dragon slaying prince, loved and admired by his people. The letter should have been nonsense, but Jon did not seem to have left his senses, his penmanship the same as always and his words straight to the point.

In this letter Jon mentions that the land the prince hails from is very similar to the North in both climate and its people. He asked if he would send a northern party to meet with the envoy, said to be arriving in less than two moons. Jon thinks that having men of a similar lifestyle will help endure them to Westeros as a whole.

Ned would do almost anything for Jon Arryn. Sending a party to Kings Landing would be of no consequence. Rob had been wanting to travel and see more of the country he lived in and the Kingdom he would one day lead. Robb’s wife of almost one year, Wylla Stark, nee Manderly, had been missing home as of late. They would pass through White Harbor on their way to the capital, spending a few weeks there before continuing their journey.

Ned passes the letter back to Maester Luwin. “Read it.” With his permission, Luwin begins to scan the letter’s contents. While waiting for Luwin, Ned begins to reminisce.

When his son, Jon, had gone missing Ned had been wracked with grief and sorrow. He had searched all over the country, no kingdom had gone unmolested in his search for his son. In that time, he was quick to anger, snapping at the smallest of slights. It was during one of these moments that he had finally snapped at his wife and revealed his best kept secret.

It had been a month since Jon had been missing. Ned had been in his solar, double, and sometimes triple checking reports and ravens from his various scouting parties. Cat had stormed into his solar in a fury of rage, demanding why he was so concerned for the bastard, and whether or not he even remembered he had other trueborn children who still needed him. Ned had lost is composure, all of the Starks famous icy anger directed at the woman he had come to love.

In this fit of unbridled rage, he had admitted his most dearly held secret. The secret that Jon was not his son, but Lyanna’s. His shoulders had shaken with sobs, he’d held his wife by her arms, and bellowed his sorrow and regret into her shocked, tear-stained face.

He had been fortunate that Jory had been on duty that night and had sent the rest of the guards away at the start of their argument. Ned had left Winterfell the very next morning, escorting the next round of search parties himself. He would not return to Winterfell for the next six moons.

Robb had been left as Lord of Winterfell, a grieving and frightened boy of three and ten. Looking back Ned would become immensely proud of his heir. He had stood strong in his grief, comforting his younger siblings, and managing the North as only a true Stark of Winterfell could. When Ned returned six moons later, he would meet a man where he had left a boy.

His relationship with his wife had been strained for a time. She had been remorseful in her treatment of the boy, toeing the invisible line he had drawn between them. Ned had eventually forgiven his wife, almost a year after Jons disappearance. He had been visiting the crypt on a cold summer’s morning when he heard quiet sobs coming from his family’s side of the crypt. He had found Cat sobbing into the cold, hard ankle of his sister’s statue, mumbled apologized into the unforgiving stone. Ned had gathered her into his arms and let her sob her apologies into his chest.

The Lords of the North had stood strong for their liege Lord. None had looked down at him for his grief. Instead admiring him for his love and dedication. All his Lords had lent men and supplies for the effort. None more so than Lords Rickard Karstark and Wyman Manderly. Both men had proven not only their loyalty to their lord, but their unyielding friendship as well. Wyman had sent ships and men as far as Slavers Bay, search for a young boy with the Stark look. Rickard had led men from the Neck to Dorne, checking every inch of the Seven Kingdoms for Ned’s son. Only when the search finally ended, did Ned allow himself to truly grieve and release the anger he had been holding.

Rickard and Wyman had accompanied him back to Winterfell. Despite his grief he came to admire and respect both true men of the North. Two years later, during Robbs five and tenth name day celebration, betrothals were mentioned. Initially he had wanted to turn them down or push them aside, but instead he considered the offers. Both Rickard and Wyman had proven themselves trustworthy vassals and true friends of the Starks. When Wyman had mentioned his youngest granddaughter was still unbetroth Ned had thought. When Rickard had mentioned his heir had yet to take a wife, he had considered.

He remembered watching Robb spin Wylla around the hall, smiles on their faces and Wylla’s dyed sea-green hair brushing Robbs’ face and making their laughter impossibly brighter.  Ned had turned to Wyman and asked if he thought Wylla would like to become Lady of Winterfell one day. Wyman had looked at him in shock before puffing up in pride, claimed he would be honored should she be considered.

He remembered Sansa’s heart filled eyes when she had met Rickards son and heir, Harrion. Harrion had looked at Sansa as if she were the Maiden born again, kissing her hand in near reverence. Rickard had met his eyes with a raised eyebrow, amused and questioning. Before, Ned may have scowled and thought his daughter too young for such things. Instead, he had raised an eyebrow back and smiled slightly in agreement.

Ned had gone a step further than betrothals. When Lords Rickard and Wyman left Winterfell for their respective castle, one had left a Stark heavier. He had Robb foster with Lord Wyman until the time for his and Wylla’s wedding. While there he would learn both Northern and Kingdom trade and get to know his future good family. Robb’s sense of adventure had seemly met an untimely end with the disappearance of his brother and other half. It had been reinvigorated with his fostering in White Harbor. He had flourished while there and fallen deeply in love with his now wife.

Sansa had been ecstatic when her betrothal had been announced to the young and handsome heir. Ned had also discussed sending his son Bran to foster with the Karstarks when he was a bit older. He had in turn fostered Rickards youngest son, Torrhen. Sansa had been sent to foster on Bear Island with Maege Mormont and her girls. Ned hoped that the She-Bear would help his daughter become the northern lady she had hidden under her mother’s southern teachings. Ned had similarly fostered one of her daughters, Lyra, who got along exceedingly well this his youngest daughter, Arya. 

Ned was disturbed from his musings by Maester Luwin, clearing his throat. “The Hands letter is very . . . unusual.” Ned chuckles softly before discussing the letter and how to respond. Ned tells him of his decision to send Robb and Wylla to greet the envoy, as well as a group of Stark men as both guards and escorts.

He had just finished writing a reply and handing the letter to the Maester when his solar door opened suddenly. Arya rushing in, Bran bringing up the rear, both wearing identical smiles. “It’s time Father! You promised, remember?”

Ned smiles kindly at his daughter. “Of course, sweetling. Give me a moment to prepare.” He would be taking the children out into the wolfswood for some hunting. Sansa had returned from her fostering a moon ago, wanting to help with the preparations for her upcoming wedding that would take place just after her six and tenth name day.

Sansa had finally shed her youthful foolishness and become a true northern woman. She still enjoyed dancing and embroidery, however, now she also enjoyed archery and prayed to both the old gods and the new. She would be joining them on the hunt, along with Arya, Bran, Lyra, Torrhen, Robb, and Theon.

The castle was bustling with servants preparing for their Lords’ hunt. It wasn’t long before Ned found himself atop his horse, surrounded by excited children and Stark guards. He notices Arya and Sansa talking excitedly to one another, as if the sisters’ time apart had brought them closer together.

 The hunt was normal in the beginning, the children quieting as they got deeper into the forest, leaving their horses behind in order to walk silently through the summer snow and brush. Ned had split everyone up, having Sansa stay with him, as she was eager to show off her new archery skills to her father.

Show off she had, as the sun started to set Sansa had shot down no less than five pheasants, not missing a single shot. They had been making their way back to their horses when the sound of Arya’s screams had sent icy fear through his body. He had turned to Jory and ordered him to watch after Sansa before sprinting through the snow towards his daughters screams, playing to any god that would listen that he would not be too late.

When he finally reached his daughter, he had not been prepared for the sight that greeted him. Arya was on the ground, her dark grey eyes staring at him from underneath a giant direwolf. His daughter looked to be unharmed, the Direwolf standing protectively over her. In front of the wolf were two wildings, their throats torn out.

One look at the wolfs muzzle and he knew the culprit. Just as he began lowering his sword, he hears the sound of thundering feet coming from the woods behind him. The wolf shifts Arya more firmly under her, protecting her from any who would harm her. Robb bursts through the trees, Torrhen and Theon hot on his heels. The Stark guards were arriving too, circling the wolf and his daughter. Theon notches an arrow and Robb moves forward before Arya scrambles out from underneath the beast.

“No! Don’t hurt her!” Arya crawls from underneath the Direwolf, pleading with her brother and Theon. She leans gently on her massive torso spreading her arms wide as if to protect the direwolf herself.

Ned interjects. “Put away your blades! Theon, nock your arrow now! I will not have you hitting my daughter.” At Lord Starks orders everyone lowers their blades, slowly, looking at the scene in a new light.

Now that Ned is calmer, he notices more than he did in his panic. The Direwolf is obviously female, when accounting for her swollen belly. She stands almost as tall as himself, dwarfing Arya almost comically given his daughters now protective stance. He also notices a wilding woman, cowering under the blade of one of his men.

The mother direwolf watches them with strikingly intelligent gold eyes. After everyone lowers their swords, she seems to relax, deeming them not a threat. She looks away from them and back to Arya, sniffing her neck and licking the scratch on her cheek. She then pushed Arya to the ground, pinning her in order to lick her face and hair.

Arya giggles delightedly, petting her large ears and trying to wiggle out from under her massive paw. Ned breathes out in disbelief, slowly approaching his daughter and mother direwolf. As he approaches her large eyes meet his and his chest begins to fill with warmth. As he approaches the warmth only grows, filling him from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes.

He kneels in front of the massive beast, their eyes never leaving one another. Slowly, the wolf frees his daughter and approaches him, until their faces are only inches apart. The Stark children, wards, and guards seem to be holding their breath in anticipation. Ned raises his right hand to touch her at the same time she leans her massive head down to press her forehead to his.

The men and women surrounding them stare in silent awe at the man and wolf in the middle of the clearing. Ned Stark kneels in front of a massive silver Direwolf, his right hand buried in the fur of her neck, their foreheads pressed together, and their eyes closed. Ned felt the warmth within his snap, settling near his heart, like a part of him he hadn’t known he’d been missing. In that moment an unnatural cold wind whipped around the humans and wolf in the clearing. Ned knew the winds were changing, Winter was coming.

**********

“You would have me go to Kings Landing to greet our foreign guests?” Prince Oberyn Martell spoke, as he looked out at the pools outside his brother’s, Prince Doran Martell, solar. He watched his children play in the pools below. Even his older daughters were in the water splashing each other playfully. His paramour, Ellaria Sand, watching from a distance with a fond smile gracing her lips.

“The prince from this land is said to be a well-traveled adventurer. I believe you two would get on well with each other. You can speak of your own adventures, while getting a feel for this prince and his nation. We know very little about them. Information is power, as you know.”

Oberyn had been looking out the window when his brother spoke. Upon hearing his words, he rolls his eyes before turning to look at his brother. “I admit I find myself quite curious about this new continent. Who wouldn’t be? Dragon slaying princes, elves, beast men who look like cats and lizards. Yes, very curious indeed. I will accept your offer to go to Kings Landing.”

Doran watched his brother, his expression severe. “Excellent. You will leave by the end of this moon. This should have you arriving less than a moon before the envoy. Please, brother, try not to get into too much trouble. The Usurper and his loins will be watching your every move while in the capital.”

Oberyn scoffed, dropping unceremoniously into the chair across from his brother. “Do you think me a fool, brother? I may not be a schemer like yourself, but I am more clever than you give me credit for.” Oberyn smirked from across his brother, who merely raised an eyebrow back.

“I suppose we will see.” Oberyn was soon dismissed, given leave to tell his family of his upcoming departure.

**********

Within Varys office Petry Baelish began speaking. “Do not take me for a fool, Varys. You must have noticed the new player in Kings Landing. The same organization that just happened to appear months after the first envoy returned to Tamriel.”

Baelish had come to Varys after the most recent small council meeting, asking what he knew about the new secret organization lurking within Kings Landing. For months he had been losing spies within the capital. Recently he had stopped receiving information from a number of his informants in the Crown Lands as well.

Even his whores were not being as loose lipped as usual. His men within the city watch had been useless, not having the smallest of leads on where the organization was hiding.

Varys gazed at Baelish steadily. “Of course, I know of them. There is very little others can hide from my little birds. Though it pains me to admit even I have found little in the ways of information on this organization.” At his own words Varys looked slightly annoyed.

Baelish considered Varys’s words before speaking again, crossing his arms behind his back, and walking slowly forward. “What information have you been able to gather?”

Varys smirks lightly. “Why Lord Baelish, surely you do not expect me to part with such information for free?”

Little fingers face remained impassive. “What is your price, Spider?”

Varys’s smile widens slightly. “Information for information. A trade of sorts. Surely you know something of our mysterious new friend who seems to lurk in the shadows of Kings Landing.”

Baelish’s grimace is barely there before his expression evens itself out. He pauses briefly, before speaking. “I have not been able to discern much about them. Many of my . . . friends have been silent for too long. Long enough that I fear their loyalties are not as unwavering as before.”

Baelish pauses. Varys raised a brow, encouraging him to continue. “Valuables go missing with no witnesses. Deeds are swapping hands, no one the wiser. Ledgers are being forged, causing coin to seemingly appear from nowhere and disappear just as suddenly. Whoever we are dealing with, they are a master of their trade, and very good at staying hidden.”

Baelish pauses for a second time in consideration, before focusing on Varys once again. “The organization must be from Tamriel. The timing is too perfect. The espionage and larceny to foreign, not like what we see in Westeros, hell even in Essos. I have not been able to find even a crumb of information on where they are stationed, or who their members are. I was hoping you would know more.”

Here he looks to Varys imploringly, barely concealing his own desperate hopes. “I will admit I did not know their thievery to be quite so severe. I myself do not know much more than you have just revealed.”

At this little finger looks annoyed, before he can speak Varys continues. “My little birds have not been able to identify any of the members, let alone the leader. However, -” Here he looks smug. “- they have been able to learn the name of this organization. The Nightingales.”

Varys pulls a small, burnt piece of parchment from his sleeves, handing It to Baelish. On the parchment is a strange symbol he had never seen. The image depicted a bird, its wings open in flight and wrapped around a black moon. Before he could ask the questions brewing in his throat, Varys continued.

“The symbol was found before it could be consumed in the flames. I believe it is the symbol for the nightingales. From what I have been able to find their presence is centered around the common folk. Every time I have gotten close to any information concerning them my efforts are thwarted by the plethora of peasants that appear to be protecting them.”

“I believe the conditions that have been improving in flea bottom to be their doing. They help the masses in order to keep themselves concealed. Its very clever, and they did it all right under our noses.” He titters softly, his eyes never leaving little finger’s.

Baelish is staring with open suspicion, searching Varys’s face for any signs of deceit. “Surely the master of whispers knows more than the name of a secret organization, the nightingales, hiding in our very own city.”

Varys merely raises his eyebrow. “I assure you that is all that I know. But, soon we will have lords and ladies from all over Westeros visiting the capital. Plenty of valuables to pilfer and pockets to lighten. Even the most tightly run organization such as this one is bound to make a mistake when such a banquet of wealth is presented to them. “

Varys tittered again, turning away from Baelish. His last words rang loudly through little fingers thoughts as he left Varys’s office. Much would be happening in the coming days. Important figures from various kingdoms, all gathered to meet a prince and envoy from a foreign nation. A perfect recipe for chaos, and chaos is a ladder.

*************

Somewhere On the Summer Sea . . .

Before Jon was the entrance of the Stark family crypts. Just like when he was a child, he felt a nagging feeling that he didn’t belong down there. After a moment he felt an invisible force move him in the direction of the crypt.

When he blinks, he is inside the crypt, being led by the same invisible force through the maze of Stark statues. As he moves deeper through the crypts, the statues change from Lords and Wardens to Kings of Winter, rusty swords and direwolf companions beside them.

Eventually the tunnels become older and less maintained. Until he comes to a dead end, the path long caved in from age. He watches, a passenger in his own body, as he raises his arms towards the crumbled doorway and speaks.

“Bex, Miraad Se Vennestiid.”

The crumbled doorway begins to move, stones rearranging themselves and reforming to create an open doorway. His body begins moving once again, following the path being recreated before him. The pathway begins to dip, leading him further underground before ending at a large ordinant door. The door has no handles and is made of heavy stone. He brings a dagger from his belt and makes a small cut on his thumb before smearing his blood into the crack of the door.

The door opens before him, heat spilling out suddenly into the cold halls of the crypt. Before him is a large open chamber. Before he can take in the sight before him, he begins to walk to the other side of the chamber. While walking he looks around at the intricate carvings of direwolves, ice spiders, giants, and more. The wall depicted a great battle on a snow-covered field against a foe with bright blue eyes.

He wanted to take a closer look at the carvings, but his body pressed forward, despite his wishes. He stopped at the end of the chamber and turns his attention to the altar in front of him.

His breath caught as he realized that before him, upon the altar, were five dragon eggs. All different sizes and colors. The leftmost egg was a deep, dark indigo, with specks of black scattered across it. The same shade of purple as his son’s eyes. The next egg was blue, the exact shade of the winter roses in Winterfells’s glass gardens. Instead of random dots, this egg had a set of long indigo strips.

In the middle was the largest egg. This egg was as bone white as the bark of Winterfell’s weirwood tree and had blood red veins running across it, the same color as the leaves of the weirwood. Next was an egg as red as blood, darkening to black near the bottom. The final egg was a bright golden yellow with black speckled in.

After looking at every egg, Jons gaze was drawn back to the egg in the middle. He felt it calling to him. He tried moving closer and was relieved to see that he once again had control over his body. He made his way cautiously over to the altar before reaching out to touch the egg in the middle. Just as he was about to touch the egg everything around him vanished.

He felt confined, barely able to move an inch. He had been warm and safe for as long as he could remember and now everything around him seemed to be changing. He struggled as much as his weak body could manage, to no avail. Everything around him was dark until it was not. He felt as if he was being squeezed impossibly tight before everything was cold. Cold surrounded him for the first time in his life, he cried as much as his little lungs could but not a sound was made. Just as quickly as the cold came it was taken away by a gentle and warm pressure. He felt as he was lifted up and reunited with his sibling, once again surrounded by warmth.

As he drifted to sleep, he heard a deep northern voice, the same voice he had longer to hear for many years. “You did good, Anna. Now you can rest.”

**********

Jon Whitewolf bolted awake in his bed aboard his ship, the Swift Wolf. He tried to calm his breathing while checking to make sure he hadn’t disturbed his sleeping wife and son. He was relieved to see them both sleeping peacefully beside him. His wife was as beautiful as always, even with the little bit of drool at the corner of her mouth and her light snores. His son was sprawled between them, his head pillowed on his mother’s arm.

He smiled down at them, sweeping their dark curls out of their faces, slack with sleep. He glanced across the room at Lucia and Sofie, both still sleeping soundly. Gently, he moved from their bed and silently got dressed before making his way out of their shared cabin.

He made his way onto the deck of the ship, the early morning sun lighting up the water surrounding the ship. He looked out to the sea, pondering his news dreams, the past moon, and the moons yet to come. They would be sailing through the Stepstones at some point that day. Afterwards they would be less than a fortnight from Kings Landing.

The beginning of his dream had confused Jon. He felt a renewed sense of anxiety and longing, having heard his fathers voice after so long. He had sounds just as Jon remembered him, strong and kind. The other part of his dream caused him to feel conflicted. Why had the gods shown him these five eggs? What was he to do with this knowledge?

He also wondered why they were there. How had five living dragon eggs come to be housed in the crypts of Winterfell? He had felt oddly . . . connected with one in the middle. He still felt a prickle of longing for it, as if he needed it, and it needed him. He would mention these dreams to Serana later that day.

Right now, they were a sizeable fleet, but not all the ships currently within his fleet would be accompanying him to Kings Landing. Before crossing into Blackwater Bay, the merchant ships from High Rock would break off to head to Bravos with a few of his own ships.

He would be sending Marcurio, posing as a noble of Tamriel, to work with the High Rock merchants to establish an account with the Iron Bank in his name. He would also be sending the mages from the college for extra protection from Iron Born and pirates. Farkas and Aela would be posing as Marcurio’s guards, not that he truly needed them, but appearances were important. He trusted Marc to keep up the act, he already acted like a snooty noble as it was, it would be an easy persona to sale for him. He brought several ships full of his riches to exchange for both Westeros and Essos currency. He would likely be in Westeros for several years, best to be prepared.

A ship carrying the Skaal would be accompanying Marcurio but would be instead docking in White Harbor. Once there the Skaal would wait for him to join them and journey together to Winterfell. The Skaal would be better suited to staying in White Harbor instead of the political snake pit that was Kings Landing. He would also be sending some of his more powerful weapons with them, ones best equipped to deal with the White Walkers. He would trust Frea and the rest of the Skaal to keep them safe.

Brynolf had been sending him periodic updates about the current proceedings of the courts of King Landing. He was highly skilled in illusion magic and thus after donning his nightingale armor was practically invisible to the people of Kings Landing. As most did not believe in magic they had no protection against it or awareness of it. This made it laughably easy to infiltrate the Red Keep and secure secrets normally inaccessible to anyone other than the most powerful of the court.

Jon did not want to bring his precious family and friends into an unknown political landscape if he could help it. He wanted to be as prepared as possible for not only the safety of his people but also the mission they had come here to complete. He already knew he would need to convince the King and his court of the threat beyond the wall. He and Serana had already come up with a plan to see it done.

With his infiltration of the Red Keep he had already put that plan in motion. He has learned a lot of info since then. The Iron Throne was currently several millions of gold dragons in debt to both Tywin Lannister and the Iron Bank. He knows that the master of coin, Petry Baelish, had been stealing from the crown and whispering in the ear of the Hands wife, Lysa. His most recent discovered had been that the Hand current suspected that the royal Baratheon children were not Baratheon at all, but the Queens bastards.

He is not sure who the Hand suspects of fathering the Queens children, but Brynjolf had watched the Queen for several weeks and discovered her less than innocent relationship with her brother, Jaime Lannister of the Kings Guard. Reports were also sent to him about the cruelty of the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. The stories from servants described in Brynjolf’s report had both enraged Jon and worried him. He had already made sure to tell his daughters not to be alone with the boy. He knew his girls could protect themselves well, but he would take no chances.  

The reports were troubling to say the least. Tension was running high within the capital. The hand was doing his best to hold the kingdom together, but he was only one man. Jon hoped that he could manage to hold it together for a few more years, or at least until the threat beyond the wall could be dealt with.

Afterwards, if the seven kingdoms fell into chaos, he would assist his family as best as he could. He was not eager to fight in another war, but he would, for his family. Jon hoped it wouldn’t come to war, but Brynolf’s report all seemed to lead to a power struggle in the near or distant future.

Jon and his closest allies had debated interfering with the happening of Westeros. In the end they decided they would not interfere unless things became dire. They would, however, continue to monitor the political situation in order to stay prepared.

Jon felt fortunate that his wife had such a mind for politics. He was a quick learner but would have been lost in any court without her wise counsel to guide him. He and Serana made a wonderful team within Skyrim’s court. He was a natural leader and often times could fill a room with his presence. He was better suited to dealing with military matters but could discern a lie from those with even especially silver tongues.

Serana on the other hand was better suited to domestic matters. She seemed to always know what to say, even to the more disagreeable of nobles. The knowledge that he would have Serana by his side while ruling Skyrim, and now all of Tamriel, had been a deciding factor in his acceptance of the crown.

He and Serana had worked well together from the moment they had met. He had been a young man, fresh off the battlefield, at the time, traveling with Marcurio. Their feelings had not developed instantly, instead they had become comrades and then friends. The three of them had went on a harrowing adventure together, finding elder scrolls, killing vampires, and saving the world on the way.

Their feelings started developing during their travels through Solstheim dealing with Miraak. It was right before his final battle with the first dragonborn that they shared their first kiss. When he had returned, battered, and bruised but still very much alive, things had been awkward between them for a short time. Neither wanting to disturb the tentative peace that had settled between them. They had waited less than a fortnight before talking about their feelings for one another. Serana had been conflicted about her feelings, given the age gap between them and her vampirism. At that time Jon had only just seen his one and eighth name day. He had tried reassuring her that such a thing did not matter to him, he loved all of her and would until the end of his days.

In the end, Serana had been in tears and even more conflicted than before they had begun their conversation. When Jon had checked her room in The Retching Netch the next morning, she was gone. He had returned to Skyrim not long after, where she would eventually return to him, mortal and with an open heart.

As the sounds of the sailors around him started to pick up, Jon made his way to his cabin to check on his family and break his fast. He thought on how peaceful the past moons had been aboard the ship. The weather had been fair and the company even better. Though he looked forward to being able to have a proper bath and have his feet back on solid land. Serana had not been fairing well either. She had been struck by sea sickness a moon into their voyage. She hadn’t struggled with it before in her life. Although she reasoned that this was the longest she had been at sea, as well as her first time sailing sea as a human in a very long time.

As he approached their cabin, the door opened before him. Serana walked out, their eyes locked almost immediately. Before Jon could question her, she spoke, her eyes filled with worry. “You received a letter from Brynjolf, it brings bad tidings.”

He makes his way inside, mind racing with possible scenarios. The girls are sitting with their brother, all three up and ready for the day. They seem to be in their own world, playing together, ignorant of their parents worry. Jon takes the letter from Serana, scanning over its contents quickly. The letter is only one sentences and straight to the point.

“The hand of the king, Jon Arryn, is dead.”