The last part. Next, I'm going to start off the last story in the Trilogy. It will have a whole host of POV's so hopefully you guys will start arguing over your favourite characters, and I will also set up a new forum for it, as hopefully it will lead to guessing, predications and debate, as I'm going for a game of Thrones approach. Characters will not be safe, and hopefully it will leave you guessing! I'll also set up a new poll.

Okay, the thanks. To DragonXander, thanks for the reviews! I have read The Inheritance Cycle, and I have gotten some inspiration from it throughout my story. As for Sid dying, well, you'll see. To Delphine hater, thanks for the review! I appreciate the faith in me as an author and I'm glad I made you hate Sid! To DW3321, thanks for the Story Favourite! To Guest, thanks for the review. All I can say is, you'll see. To Dicasy, thanks for the Story favourite.

Jarl Jon Stormcloak

Jarl Jon Stormcloak woke up slowly, the darkness receding to reveal Ysold sitting beside him. Jon felt the surface he was resting on; it was a bed. He had been taken out of his old clothes and had them replaced by a loose shirt and breeches. He felt his head, while Ysold looked on anxiously.

'Jon?' she asked, cautiously.

'Hello, beautiful,' he murmured. His mind was clearing and he noticed that Ysold obviously hadn't got any sleep recently.

She let out a little scream and hugged Jon, who winced. She drew away quickly. 'Sorry.'

'No, no. It's fine.' He took her hand. A vahrukt, memory, flashed through his mind. 'Alsfur? He's fine?' he asked anxiously.

'You have Igmund to thank for that,' Ysold told him. 'He claimed that they were going to kill you. You scared me,' he said quietly. Ysold looked like she was on the verge of tears and Jon felt a pang of guilt; if he hadn't confronted Siddgeir, she wouldn't have been put through her ordeal.

He squeezed her hand. 'I'm so sorry. This is my fault.'

'It is,' she agreed, letting out little choking smiles.

'Do you want to get in this bed with me?' Jon let out a painful smile.

She slapped him gently. 'Can you think of nothing else?'

'Not with you around. I think you're a bad influence,' Jon told her, trying to put on a mock serious face.

'Well, you'll have to put up with it. I do pity the state of the Jarldom in a few years though.'

'Are you questioning my management abilities?' Jon asked, pretend shock on his face.

'Oh, no; of course not,' she said sarcastically. 'I'm just worried about how much time you'll actually spend managing things.'

'That's what Brunwulf's for.' Jon's mind turned to other matters and with a pang of faas, fear, he remembered his Housecarl. 'Ralof? How is he?'

'No worse than you were.' Ysold looked at Jon's face carefully before elaborating. 'He's began to recover. At one point they thought that he would pass away, but he's woken up now. He'll be fine. Rest and excused duties will heal him,' she finished pointedly.

'To Talos, if I'm going to let that lazy bastard sit in a corner drinking mead.'


He held up his hands. 'I was joking. Can I see him?'

'Jon, you've been here for two days. You need to get some more rest. You nearly bled out; the mages were surprised you were still alive and the rate you recovered is extraordinary.'

'Turns out Alduin had some use after all,' he said darkly. Ysold smiled. She was the only person who he had told the secret of the Dragonborn; that they could absorb the slain dragon's power and it enhanced them, increasing their strength, speed and reflexives slightly, as well as granting them all the dragon's knowledge. With Jon's defeat of Alduin he had absorbed the god-like power the King Dovah had possessed; and although he couldn't use it in the way that Alduin could, he had been able to make some use of it. In tiid, time, he hoped to tell Alsfur of the secret. It was his greatest wish that he had inherited Jon's own unique abilities.

They sat together for a little and then Ysold did lie next to Jon, (fully clothed to Jon's dismay), under the covers. They stayed like that for a while, relishing each others company until Alsfur bounded into the room and jumped on Jon, causing him to let out a cry of pain, and Ysold shifted Jon across so Alsfur could lie in the middle of them. Jon's son was followed by Brunwulf, who leaned against the door, in scaled leather amour, with small bits of light steel plate supporting some of his more vulnerable areas. A longsword hung at his side, and on his other hung a dagger. Behind him came two guards, both dressed in the black of Windhelm. They were also armed in mail, with swords and axes.

'You can't imagine the joy I have in seeing you awake, Jon,' he said, smiling grimly.

'I thought you would have wanted any occasion to rule Windhelm without me,' Jon said, sitting up painfully.

Brunwulf brushed aside the joke, his face serious. 'My Jarl, the moot is closing. Elisif and Merilis are the only ones to be undecided. Their support is crucial to the outcome of the moot.'

'Without me? Damn it,' Jon struggled from the bed. 'Alright, let's go. Get me my zahkrii, my sword, and a cloak.'

Ysold was up as well. 'Jon, you can barely hold one! Get them to postpone it.'

Stormcloak turned back to his wife, his impatience showing. 'And wait for Siddgeir to send a party to attack you? Windhelm does not feel as safe as it did once.'

'We'll survive, Jon. You're being stupid now.'

'No, I'm not. It's time to end this moot.'

Ysold backed down gracefully under Jon's decision and nodded. 'Get it over with then.' It was strange for Jon to realise that he was still her husband and his decision final. It was not a feeling he wanted to get use to though.

Jon pulled on some leather boots, and buckled on Kodaav which Brunwulf handed him now before clasping his cloak around his neck and striding from the room with a light limp, with his guards falling in behind him.

'How's the mood?' Stormcloak asked Brunwulf as they made their way through the corridors.

'Decidedly anti-Siddgeir.'

Jon nodded, satisfied. 'Then its time to end this.'

They entered the chamber a second later, and his guards fell back at the entrance. Siddgeir looked disgruntled at his return, but managed a taunt anyway.

'Finally, Jarl Windhelm sees fit to join us-'

Jon turned on him rahgot, angrily, his patience spent. 'Shut your mouth, boy! I won't be belittled by a youth who can't even wipe his own arse, let alone grow a proper set of balls.' He turned away from the cowed Siddgeir and breathed deeply before nodding to the other Jarls. 'My Jarls.' They looked at him with amusement, while some of them openly laughed at Siddgeir humiliation.

Jon made his way to his seat, but hesitated, lingering with his hand on the back before moving to its side, resting his hands on the table instead. Jon still felt a little sahlo, weak, and dizzy, but he knew what he had to do now. The moot needed to end.

'I am not going to play this game any longer. I want a decision.'

The other Jarls looked on him in surprise, but it wasn't affront. Rather they seemed to welcome his forwardness. All of them, save Siddgeir.

'I know now that the only choices are Balgruuf,' he looked at him briefly before turning his gaze to Siddgeir, letting the scorn show; 'and Siddgeir.' He raised himself, with effort; his wounds were still painful. 'I was attacked, by Siddgeir and his men-'

'A lie!' Stuhn stood, staring at Jon defiantly.

Stormcloak was about to reply, but he needed have.

'He speaks the truth.' It was Igmund, still sitting, watching them. Ripples ran through the chamber but Jarl Oath ignored them. 'Siddgeir attacked Jarl Jon, twice!'

'No, wait.' Siddgeir looked genuinely puzzled. 'I will admit to the second, but not the first.'

Jon looked at him in surprise. 'You're not the "King?"'

'No,' bitterness showed. 'And it doesn't seem that I will be now.'

'I don't understand any of this!' It was Korir. 'Who's the "King"?'

The Jarls looked at Jon. 'Jarl Stormcloak, perhaps?' Elisif said, misunderstanding Jon's mysterious enemy. 'His father was king, and a good one, for what its worth. Why not you, Jon?' She looked hopeful, and Jon considered it. It was a tempting prospect, but he couldn't, could he?

'I would raise my sword to Jarl Jon,' Korir said, and Brina Merilis agreed with a grunt.

'So would I.'

The Jarls started chanting Stormcloak, all but Balgruuf and Siddgeir.





The noise slammed against Jon's ears and he felt sick. The suleyk, power, was certainly tempting, and he would be fulfilling Paarthurnax's wishes of a united Skyrim, but it felt wrong. He didn't want to be king. He looked around uncertainly, not sure what to say, but then a voice broke the chants.

'Silence!' It was Balgruuf, standing, and looking round at them all. 'He will not be King!'

'Because you want the power for yourself,' Korir said, staring at him.

'No, you fool!' eh shot back angrily. 'I will do this because Jon doesn't want to, and I'm the only one who can.' The Jarls looked likely to protest. 'I am right though, aren't I?' Balgruuf looked around at them all, breathing heavily.

'Why will he not be out King?' Elisif asked, looked alone and vulnerable, like a lost child.

'Because he would have to rule you lot! You're like children, not Jarls! If Skyrim is weak, it's because of you. We need men of leadership, men of loyalty, men of strength. Jarl Jon is those things, but that does not make him patient, nor ready to lead. You know me, I am honourable, if nothing else. What do you want from a King, but stability?' The Jarls looked uncomfortable now. 'You are tired now,' Balgruuf continued; The Civil War has beaten us all down. What we need now, is a leader. Who will elect me as High King?'

Jon was stunned by the outburst, and heartfelt speech. He also felt like Balgruuf had gone a little too far, but he was right, in truth, and the Jarls knew it. They needed it. They just wanted someone to tip the scales. Jon raised his voice.

'Let us hope he will be the King Skyrim needs, not necessarily the one we want.' He turned to Balgruuf. 'You have my sword, my life, and my allegiance, your Grace.' He took Kodaav from its sheath and laid it in his palms, then knelt before Balgruuf.

The Windhelm Jarl nodded and touched him on the brow. 'I will serve Skyrim, and you, as best I can. Rise, please, Jon Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.'

Jon did, and the other Jarls came forward, the tide broken, but Balgruuf halted them. 'Not here. Follow me.' And like that, they had chosen a King.

Using his sword, he carefully took the legendary bronze crown from its resting place in the centre of the table, but left it balanced on his sword as he left the council room. From there he took the Jarls upward, after sealing the great chamber with a key provided by a servant who waited by the door, up the steps in the corridors of Windhelm until they reached the roof of the Palace of Kings. The sun was beginning to rise steadily, and Balgruuf climbed a set of steps until he reached the highest lookout, called Ysgramor's tower. It was in little more than a watch point, but the symbolism was noted nonetheless.

Balgruuf Wind-Shifter reached the top and looked down on them, as the sul, sun, rose and the red light wrapped around him, like fire. 'Your allegiance?' he asked, firm and calm as the light whipped around him in a dizzying illusion.

As one, all the Jarls pulled off their bracers, or gauntlets, or bracelets and threw them. Steel fell to the floor with a ringing sound and they knelt, Jon included, though he had already sworn his oath.

Stormcloak risked a quick glance at Siddgeir, but he looked beaten, and shamed. There would be no opposition now. Jon raised his head to look at Balgruuf, standing tall and proud, and started shouting;

'All hail, High King Balgruuf of Clan Wind-Shifter, the first of his name, Lord of Skyrim, Jarl of Whiterun. All hail the King!'

With a united voice, the Jarls repeated his chant until it rang across Windhelm, being quickly taken up by the men and woman of the city. In the far distance, Jon could hear it being picked up by distant villages in a great roar of sound. Soon, it would ring across all of Skyrim.

And now, Jon was truly content. His part was over. A King was chosen, Skyrim was united. It was time to leave the rest to other men.

The last story will be starting soon. Hopefully it will get you talking, speculating, in protests about evil plot points! It should be fun. Hopefully, it will also be good. REVIEW!