“Ralof of Riverwood,” she said as she stood over him. He was glaring mutinously up at her from where Farkas had him pinned down. “What have you got to say for yourself?”
“A crown doesn't make a king,” Ralof snapped. “You won this one, but you won't win in the end. Your corrupt Empire will fall and take you with it!”
Once Elisif might have been tempted to argue the point, but right now she didn't care. She was rather glad he'd survived. Njada had been right – live or die, the story was the important thing, and what use was a story if no one could tell it?
“I'm letting you go,” Elisif said calmly. “Go back to Ulfric and tell him I have his precious Jagged Crown, and soon I will have a throne to go with it. I am Elisif, the true High Queen, born of dragons, and Skyrim is mine. Get back to Windhelm and tell him that, Ralof. You tell him I'm coming for him, and when I do, he'll fall, one way or another. Now get out of here.”
Farkas let him up at Elisif's nod, and Ralof stopped only to grab his warhammer before fleeing out of the tomb.
Elisif sighed and looked around at the rest of the chamber. There'd have to be something worth having, and the Word Wall was a prize regardless. She just needed to rally the others and...
Farkas was still kneeling, staring up at her in awe and next to Njada's body, Vilkas and Ria were doing likewise.
“What?” Elisif said defensively. All that attention was making her nervous. “What is it?”
“You're really queen, aren't you?” Ria whispered. “I mean, you're really a Jarl and everything, not just a warrior.”
“I really am,” Elisif said, feeling a little surprised herself. “With a crown! I've got a crown!” She fingered one of its teeth, wondering how she looked. She definitely felt different wearing it. It was partly the weight, partly the dragon-teeth protecting her cheeks, just barely visible on the edge of her vision, all of it reminding her she was a warrior – more than a warrior. A queen.
Vilkas did smile at that. “Yes, you have, and it looks impressive. Ria, have you got that mirror still?”
Ria did indeed have a small handmirror and she gladly passed it over to Elisif. Elisif stared at her reflection in it, barely recognising herself. Dragon teeth framing her face, red hair streaming out from under it, her actual face half-shadowed – Elisif the woman barely recognisable under something all Nords would recognise as the symbol of their queen.
I am queen, even without a moot. The gods made me Dragonborn, and I will protect Skyrim or die trying, that I promise.
“I'm going to win this war,” Elisif said softly, knowing that she could do it, that she was the stronger now, that Ulfric could never intimidate or bully her ever again... and nor would anyone else.
“Yes you are,” Ria said, finally smiling. “All Hail Elisif, High Queen of Skyrim!”
“All Hail Elisif, High Queen of Skyrim!” Farkas and Vilkas cried, both on their feet now. Once Elisif might have been embarrassed by all the praise – Eight knew that even after becoming Jarl, no one had been hailing her as queen. Now though, now it just felt right. She was High Queen of Skyrim – and once she'd dealt with that pretender king in Windhelm, everyone would know whose Thu'um was stronger.
~~~~~~~
A/N: A crown doesn't make a queen, but it can go a long way towards it. And now, Elisif, now you really do look the part.
Next chapter, there's one major obstacle to Elisif emerging from hiding to take her crown, and that's the little matter of the Dark Brotherhood contract. Not to worry, the Blades take their duty to guard and guide the Dragonborn very seriously, and with Nightingale assistance, Delphine's ready to make her move.
Re: The Wolf Queen Awakens 22.11
“A crown doesn't make a king,” Ralof snapped. “You won this one, but you won't win in the end. Your corrupt Empire will fall and take you with it!”
Once Elisif might have been tempted to argue the point, but right now she didn't care. She was rather glad he'd survived. Njada had been right – live or die, the story was the important thing, and what use was a story if no one could tell it?
“I'm letting you go,” Elisif said calmly. “Go back to Ulfric and tell him I have his precious Jagged Crown, and soon I will have a throne to go with it. I am Elisif, the true High Queen, born of dragons, and Skyrim is mine. Get back to Windhelm and tell him that, Ralof. You tell him I'm coming for him, and when I do, he'll fall, one way or another. Now get out of here.”
Farkas let him up at Elisif's nod, and Ralof stopped only to grab his warhammer before fleeing out of the tomb.
Elisif sighed and looked around at the rest of the chamber. There'd have to be something worth having, and the Word Wall was a prize regardless. She just needed to rally the others and...
Farkas was still kneeling, staring up at her in awe and next to Njada's body, Vilkas and Ria were doing likewise.
“What?” Elisif said defensively. All that attention was making her nervous. “What is it?”
“You're really queen, aren't you?” Ria whispered. “I mean, you're really a Jarl and everything, not just a warrior.”
“I really am,” Elisif said, feeling a little surprised herself. “With a crown! I've got a crown!” She fingered one of its teeth, wondering how she looked. She definitely felt different wearing it. It was partly the weight, partly the dragon-teeth protecting her cheeks, just barely visible on the edge of her vision, all of it reminding her she was a warrior – more than a warrior. A queen.
Vilkas did smile at that. “Yes, you have, and it looks impressive. Ria, have you got that mirror still?”
Ria did indeed have a small handmirror and she gladly passed it over to Elisif. Elisif stared at her reflection in it, barely recognising herself. Dragon teeth framing her face, red hair streaming out from under it, her actual face half-shadowed – Elisif the woman barely recognisable under something all Nords would recognise as the symbol of their queen.
I am queen, even without a moot. The gods made me Dragonborn, and I will protect Skyrim or die trying, that I promise.
“I'm going to win this war,” Elisif said softly, knowing that she could do it, that she was the stronger now, that Ulfric could never intimidate or bully her ever again... and nor would anyone else.
“Yes you are,” Ria said, finally smiling. “All Hail Elisif, High Queen of Skyrim!”
“All Hail Elisif, High Queen of Skyrim!” Farkas and Vilkas cried, both on their feet now. Once Elisif might have been embarrassed by all the praise – Eight knew that even after becoming Jarl, no one had been hailing her as queen. Now though, now it just felt right. She was High Queen of Skyrim – and once she'd dealt with that pretender king in Windhelm, everyone would know whose Thu'um was stronger.
~~~~~~~
A/N: A crown doesn't make a queen, but it can go a long way towards it. And now, Elisif, now you really do look the part.
Next chapter, there's one major obstacle to Elisif emerging from hiding to take her crown, and that's the little matter of the Dark Brotherhood contract. Not to worry, the Blades take their duty to guard and guide the Dragonborn very seriously, and with Nightingale assistance, Delphine's ready to make her move.