Dragon's Conquest

Ancient Walls

Empress. Ulfric would've burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all if the Dragonborn didn't seem so damn confident. The glimmer in her eye, the smirk she just barely failed to hide; she was fully expecting to be crowned. She obviously wasn't a direct heir, the only way for her to be crowned was-- "You want to overthrow Mede."

"I want to rebuild the Empire to what it once was, when Tiber Septim, Talos, reigned," she said. "It took a Dragonborn ruler to defeat the Second Dominion, it will take a Dragonborn ruler to defeat the Third."

Ulfric was at a loss for how to respond. He hated the Emperor, he...didn't quite hate her, and he loathed the Thalmor. But any form of government change made for messy politics, even if it was a simple succession from a leader to a well-groomed, well-liked heir. A full dynasty change, especially one from Imperial to Dunmer, gods, Ulfric could only imagine the unrest in the courts and in the public. "You criticized my rebellion for fracturing the Empire," he said simply.

"Your rebellion was hasty. My ascension to my rightful throne will not be." She looked up to the sky, where the stars were just beginning to fade. "I am the last heir of the Septim Dynasty. It is my birthright to rule as Dragonborn." She looked back down to face him, to stare into his eyes. "Just as it is your birthright to rule as High King of Skyrim."

The Dragonborn held out her hand to him, an invitation for him to take it and accept her offer to help him become High King. An invitation for him to help her become Empress. His mind swam. She had gone insane! He couldn't deny there was some precedent for her reign, every single empire of men--not elves--had been founded by a Dragonborn of some sort, be it Ysgramor, Wulfharth, Alessia, Reman Cyrodiil, or Talos. All of them, legendary leaders that the Dragonborn herself was not--or not yet. The legends of the Dragonborns before her were just that: legends. How could he know how she would be spoken of in the centuries after her death?

She had no political experience, yet neither had Ulfric before he was groomed as Jarl-heir of Windhelm, neither had any politician. Not to speak of the idiotic politics that plagued the Imperial City, that plagued the Blue Palace in Solitude, she could still learn the ins and outs of politics better than Titus Mede II or Elisif ever could. She had something they lacked; determination. Just behind her eyes a fire of determination burned, nothing like the nervousness Elisif held in her very posture, nothing like the tired acceptance of fate Titus Mede II let slip in every word he spoke. No, she had it in her mind that it was her throne, and she wanted to become worthy of it to others.

And that's exactly what she was asking of him. She knew she was unprepared to even hold her Thaneships, as an outsider unfamiliar to Skyrim's customs, laws. That was her true reason for keeping him alive; she didn't need him as a distraction for a dragon, the dozens of tales of her single-handedly slaying dragons that wormed their way into his court proved that false. She wanted him for his experience in politics and influence over Skyrim far more than for his Thu'um.

A deep tug within Ulfric's gut warned him that the Dragonborn could still be lying, but every other part of him protested. Her piercing stare bared her soul to him; she was committed to make herself Empress, to make him High King. Even if this was some strange ploy to earn his trust, why? What reason was there to make up a desire for the Ruby Throne? With the Empire weakening day by day it was not an enviable seat, even more so if she truly believed a war with the Dominion was looming. The Dragonborn was right: the Empire was far too weak to survive another Great War. The Ruby Throne might not exist in a decade or so if a war did come to pass.