Summary: Freedom's a funny thing, and Mei truly never thought it would come at the claws of a Hagraven... but it turns out something doesn't need to be pretty to be good for you. Meanwhile Jarl Balgruuf's got a city to reclaim... and a few ideas about how the Free Skyrim movement's going to operate.

A/N: It's been too long since the last chapter. And it's Enderal's fault. An amazing game but oh my god it's intense. Also evil won in real life. Bit hard to feel creative in that scenario, but perhaps at least one version on what good governance should look like can go online. So here's Balgruuf, OK with taking on a kingship and taking Skyrim out of the Empire, but not at the expense of his non-Nord citizens. Good on him.

When Mei woke up, her first thought was of pain, and wondering if today would mean an end. And then it registered that she was lying down, she wasn't in agony exactly, just aching and sore, and she was on a bed of straw, wrapped in furs. And it was dark.

It's a trap. It has to be. This is some sort of Thalmor plot. The next stage in the interrogation.

Except the memory of escaping came back. She'd killed a Thalmor soldier, they wouldn't improve her conditions for that. In fact the last thing she remembered was telling Cicero to run then preparing to fight the troll.

The thing had flung her aside with one sweep of its claws and she'd passed out, falling to the snow-covered cave floor, hoping Cicero had made it out.

And now here she was in a bed of sorts. And outside she could hear voices. Laughter. Talking, and the sound of a campfire and the smell of something being cooked over it. Horker. Someone was cooking horker.

Mei loved horker. She tried to sit up, and got halfway before out of condition muscles protested and she collapsed, shaking from the effort. Also, as the furs had slipped off her, she'd realised she was wearing some skimpy fur outfit that left little to the imagination and didn't protect against the cold at all. And while Mei spoke like a Nord due to having lived around them all her life, she didn't share their cold resistance.

"Nine help me," she whispered, huddling under furs, and then becoming aware of a warm body next to her, also wrapped in furs and apparently sleeping peacefully. And then magic flared at the foot of the bed, and a magelight shot over her head, lighting up the tent she'd been installed in – and something rather less reassuring crouched at the entrance. Mei cried out to see a hooded figure with a cloak of feathers and a raven's mask on the hood watching her intently.

"So you wake at last, Meixiu Acafyreen."

A woman's voice, but a grating, gravelly one sounding like something out of Oblivion itself, and Mei smelt magicka in the air, dark and foreboding like the air before a thunderstorm. This was no Thalmor, true… but was she something worse?

One thing was for sure, she knew Mei's name but couldn't pronounce it worth a damn.

"It's spoken May-zyoo," Mei said warily. "And who told you who I was?"

The woman laughed.

"My apologies. I have only the boy's word, and he says he only saw it written in a Thalmor list, he never heard it said out loud."

She indicated the lump next to her, and underneath the furs, Mei saw red hair covering pale skin and the even breathing of someone sleeping soundly. Cicero was here! And he was all right. Clearly exhausted but all right.

Mei could have hugged the lad but didn't. Kids needed their sleep after all.

"Is he all right," Mei couldn't help but ask.

"He's fine. Weary and in need of sleep but fine. Worry more about yourself! You were the one being tortured in a Thalmor dungeon for Sithis knows how long."

Mei instinctively reached for the eye and to her surprise felt a fresh bandage. Then to her mouth… and her tongue felt intact teeth where gaps had been last night. That wasn't right, surely?

"What… what happened? Where are we? Who are you?"

"Forgive me, have I not even introduced myself? I am Keirine, Mistress Khim. I have the honour of being First Matriarch of the Reach. This place isn't my usual domain, it's a recent outpost which we've occupied. It's normally inhabited by some sisters of mine. I'm here for now to ensure relations remain friendly. You're in Ravenscar Hollow – it's a sea cave north of the Thalmor Embassy. We have people here spying out the land in preparation for… well. That's not important. But you have heard about the uprising, haven't you. King Istlod took two of his Jarls prisoner and half the kingdom's rising up in protest."

"So Cicero said," Mei said, recalling what he'd told her. "King Madanach's really legalised Talos worship and sided with rebel Nords?"

"That he has," Keirine chuckled. "I did not see it coming, but it seems to be working out. The Nords aren't so bad when you get used to them. And you have cause to be grateful, we're getting very good at replacing lost teeth. We always had the art, but tending to the aftermath of Nordic brawling all the time means you get very good at it. You presently have Bound Teeth in your mouth – should serve you until your new ones grow back in. I do not have time or resources to find you dentures, so part of your magicka is bound into keeping them summoned. I don't think you're a mage, so you shouldn't miss it."

Bound Teeth? As in…

"You summoned replacement teeth for me from Oblivion?" Mei gasped, feeling her teeth and realising how sharp they felt… and that they were glowing purple when she opened her mouth.

"If you prefer, I can cancel the spell and leave you with the gaps," Keirine said, surface politeness belied by the rasp in her throat, and Mei shivered as it belatedly occurred to her just what sort of creature a Matriarch of the Reach might be.

"Oh balls, you're a Hagraven, aren't you," Mei whispered, looking frantically around for weapons and armour which were nowhere in sight.

"We took your gear for cleaning and decided it would be best to keep it safe until we had explained the situation to you and received assurances you were friendly," Keirine said calmly. "And yes. I'm one of the Hags."

Clawed hands reached up and pulled the hood back, and Keirine looked up, more human than Mei had expected… but definitely not one, not any more. Sharp features, striking silver eyes, dark blonde hair falling to her shoulders, but the teeth… Pointed and sharp and fierce, and under the feather cloak, more feathers and these were growing out of her.

"Welcome to the Reachmen," Keirine said, smile revealing all those pointed teeth. "We're your best protection against the Thalmor. Praise Talos, eh."

"Oh gods," Mei whispered. "Are you… and the Nords are all right with this?"

"Thane Ulfric himself laid eyes on my true form and told his men to stand down," Keirine said with a shrug. "The Stormcloaks know. They are not exactly comfortable with it, but they hate the elves more so… My sisters and I have agreed we will conceal our true forms outside our redoubts so the unworthy cannot look upon us. The Nords have agreed that what is not right before their eyes is not their problem. We get by well enough."

"And I'm deemed worthy?" Mei said faintly.

"You're deemed presently not in any condition to do much about it," Keirine said, amused. "I appear how I want in a redoubt I helped set up. Don't worry about Cicero. He was already aware of me, and too relieved to object. He's been no trouble. Apart from fussing over you and having to be firmly told to wait outside while we tended to you and bathed you. We said he could sleep next to you as long as he behaved and did not disturb you. The boy is clearly fond of you."

"Aye," Mei said, smiling as she watched him and realised that if he'd been the injured one, she'd have worried too. "I'm fond of the lad too. Would have died in that cell without him."

"No doubt," Keirine said, voice softening a little and Mei realised that perhaps even a Daedra-worshipping witch who'd made a blood pact with a demon and changed herself into an inhuman monster might still have feelings. Then Keirine's next words shocked her to the core.

"So. Do you want us to find your son for you."

Mei could almost feel her heart stop as she realised Cicero must have told a bloody Hagraven about Kaidan and Mei could almost wake him to wring his neck… but she'd asked him to ask King Madanach for help. Perhaps he'd felt a First Matriarch was the next best thing, and then she felt the padding at her breasts and between her legs, and guessed perhaps they'd not exactly needed Cicero to work out a child might exist.

"Cicero told you."

"Yes, yeena, he did. He seemed to think it was important. I told him I would need to speak with my brother, but I think he will agree. The man is ridiculously sentimental about babies. I thought he was just a reckless fool who couldn't figure out how contraception worked, but it turns out that far from not caring, he cared very much about getting a baby in his arms. Or five, as it's turned out. I cannot see the attraction myself, but between the rare bloodline and a helpless baby in danger and in need of his mother, I imagine Madanach will be unable to resist."

Madanach? As in King Madanach? Her brother was… of course he was.

"You're King Madanach's sister. And he knows about – of course he does. Did he make you First Matriarch?"

Keirine actually looked offended, feathers ruffling.

"I made myself that! And I was a well-respected heroine, witch and Matriarch of the Reachfolk before I became First. If anything, he owes his kingship to me!"

Then she tilted her head, feathers smoothing themselves down – or rather, some magic crackled along them to preen them for her.

"He is my brother, yes. And I've been in contact. He knows of you and his steward is arranging to bring you to Markarth. This is a frontline redoubt behind enemy lines and the Thalmor will be hunting you. You cannot stay here. We leave tonight under cover of darkness. There's a boat, then horses, then rest at my home redoubt. From there, it'll be a carriage ride to the city. It's going to take a few days but once you're in Markarth, Madanach has promised you and Cicero full guest hospitality in his keep. He was worried sick about Cicero, although he will likely deny this. But he was willing to authorise overt action against the Dominion and risk a war to get that boy back. You saved him the trouble, and saved one of his citizens. He's very grateful. If you wish to see your son again and have a safe place to raise him, it can be done. As it is, by the time you arrive in Markarth, the qualified healer-mage will be there. She has a medical degree from the University of Alinor itself and has treated Thalmor torture victims before. She can treat your remaining injuries."

"They let humans in the University of Alinor?" Mei asked, and then she inhaled sharply as she realised.

"Fuck, she's Thalmor? And you let her in the Reach?"

"Ex-Thalmor," Keirine sighed, as if she was getting rather used to explaining this. "As in, not any more. As in, conscripted into the military in the first place, deserted as she realised that contrary to Thalmor propaganda, humans can feel pain and do have feelings, and that torturing them was wrong, and then ended up defecting after the war. She's as keen to avoid her kin as you are. And it was her who brought Cicero to the Reach. Ask him about Liriel Elfsbane, also becoming known as Health-Giver and Tooth-Gardener. Don't call her that last one though. Not unless you want an earful about bloody Nords and their bloody ideas of entertainment. Well, perhaps you do. But no matter. You'll meet her soon enough. Be polite and respectful when you do. We're all getting good at teeth… but there's not many skilled enough to handle eyes. But the Elfsbane can do it. What her people did to you, her magic can repair. I promise."

Mei reached to the destroyed eye throbbing under the bandage and felt tears in the other. There was a healer could fix this? She'd thought it ruined for good. She'd thought…

She'd thought her life was over, but in a single day, the gods were handing it slowly back to her. Piece by shining piece. Her clan were gone, her husband was gone… but it turned out the Witch Lord felt himself in her debt and wanted to help. It turned out a Thalmor-trained healer had seen the light and was going to repair her broken body. It turned out she might see her baby boy yet, and a Hagraven of all creatures was going to help with that.

Next to her, Cicero stirred and whispered 'mama?' hopefully, as he had every morning since the Thalmor had invaded his city, and every morning he'd opened his eyes and felt his heart sink as he remembered she was gone.

Mei heard and realised she owed this little one most of all, her brave little fellow traveller who'd brought her hope when hope had gone. Reaching out, she squeezed his shoulder.

"Aye lad, I've got you," Mei whispered, warmth filling her heart as Cicero rolled over, face lighting up.

"Mei!" Cicero squealed. "You're awake! And you're all right! Matriarch Keirine said she could heal you, at least a bit! And you have pretty purple teeth now! Until the new ones grow back of course."

"Aye, that I do," Mei chuckled. "Don't know how well they hold up for eating though."

"The spell's tried and tested, they work fine," Keirine said, amused. "Shall we find you something to eat? You will need your strength for the journey ahead. Word is there are already Thalmor patrols abroad, and were it not for the snow today, there'd be more. You shouldn't stay here for long."

Cicero seemed more than keen and Mei wanted more than anything to get some proper food down her, and mead if they had it. A simple thing, but she'd been denied even basic dignity for so long, anything at all felt like the most precious thing on Nirn. These were strange times indeed that a Hagraven lair felt like Sovngarde itself, but Mei could get used to it.

Breakfast. Getting her gear back. Getting on the road to Markarth. Meeting Madanach. Finding Kaidan and Brynjar. Finding a home for them all, and Cicero if he wanted to come.

She owed the lad her life and had never liked being in debt… and she knew what he wanted most. He wanted his mam? Then his mam she'd be.

Keirine was as good as her word, and not only was food provided, Mei's gear was returned to her… although Cicero became a bit nervous on seeing this and sidled up to her, hand resting delicately on her sword arm.

"Pretty Mei is not going to try and kill the nice Hagraven who is trying to help?"

"You need to get out more if you think there's anything nice about Hagravens," Mei snorted, but she relented a little on seeing the disapproving little frown on Cicero's face. "All right, lad, don't worry. I'm not an idiot. I can't say I approve, but they helped us and we do need them. Won't deny I'll feel better on the road though… what. You got that look on your face. Like there's summat you're not telling me."

"Matriarch Keirine is coming with us, at least as far as her own redoubt," Cicero said delicately. "And… you have not met Ryu yet! He is coming too!"

Ryu? That sounded like one of her own kin and yet there'd been no one in her own clan called that. She followed Cicero's gaze to the Reachman lurking in the corner who'd had his headdress on and been studiously avoiding her… but he was watching. Seeing her eyes fall on him, he shrugged, stepped out of the shadows, and it was only then she saw that he was taller than the others by a foot, had dragon tattoos in the Akaviri style… and a gaping hole in his chest with a briar for a heart.

"Sweet Mara," Mei breathed, seeing another Akaviri but feeling only heartbreak at what he'd done to himself. "You let them do that to you?"

"Yes, kinswoman, I did," Ryu growled as he sat down, brows knotting, and his accent wasn't like hers. He sounded like a Hammerfell man if anything. "Thalmor massacred my clan. I was one of Clan Duadeen's best hunters and I was prepared to die fighting those scum. But Ma made me try and get my sisters to safety. I tried. But a sabre cat got Yumi, and Sachiko died in the pass from the cold and exhaustion. Would have died myself if the Reachmen of Hag Rock hadn't found me. Now I fight with them. Took the Briar voluntarily. They told me it would make me a better warrior, and the grief would trouble me no more. Now I can throw a man the length of this cavern, run with one in my arms for hours, immune to poison, resistant to magic, don't get sick… and I'm even better at killing Thalmor."

This last was said with a vicious grin on his face, and Mei shivered at the thought of what he'd become. He'd let himself be turned into a killing machine so as to better take revenge on the elves that killed his kin… and stop feeling the guilt over not saving them.

Mei put an arm round Cicero, reminding herself that here was a human that cared, here was someone to stay alive for. Here was someone to stay human for and not go mindlessly into a killing rage against the elves for. And even if she never found Kaidan, she could assuage her own guilt over leaving him by being there for Cicero.

"I'm Mei of Clan Mishaxhi," Mei said softly. "We lived in the mountains of the Rift. We were a little mining village in the middle of nowhere but we preserved what we could. Thalmor found us eventually though. Others fled. But they killed a lot of us and took me prisoner. They knew I was one of the ones who'd trained with the Blades. We were one of the Blades' better kept secrets. Or so we thought. Looks like the Thalmor found out about us after all. I would have died if not for Cicero here."

Ryu listened to all this, nodding intently, and sparing a glance for the boy.

"Red Cicero's name is getting around. He's the one who tried to start a fight with Ulfric Stormcloak and didn't die, the way I hear it."

"He was going to kill Tyr!" Cicero protested. "He thought we were Thalmor agents. Because… because he'd seen Liriel on their side in the war. But we're not! Liriel defected! Tyr's a Blade! I'm… I'm from Cyrodiil. Dominion killed Mama, killed everyone! I'm not on their side! But King Madanach was there and King Madanach stopped the fight and calmed everyone down and listened to us, and now we're all friends! We were rescuing Ulfric's papa from prison when I got caught. But the job worked, and I escaped and all is well now! I got to talk to King Madanach on the siara-bell. He says I'm very brave and he's glad I'm all right."

He wasn't wrong there. Mei hugged him, thinking that perhaps King Madanach at least wasn't so bad. Even his Hagraven sister hadn't been all that bad. She could weep for poor Ryu feeling he had no choice but to take the Briar though. Maybe he'd not been wrong at the time. Hadn't she given her own heart away with Kaidan?

If it had kept him safe, it was worth it… but if she could find safety herself, she wanted her boy back. If King Madanach could help with that, she could maybe find it in herself to overlook all the blood magic.

Whiterun seemed to still be standing and intact, but the citizens Balgruuf passed on his way to the gate seemed wary and worried… and amazed to see their Jarl returning.

"We'd heard you were dead!" Marcurio Pelagius exclaimed. "They're saying King Istlod had you arrested for treason!"

"That is true, but I escaped," Balgruuf admitted. "Jarl Hoag of Eastmarch likewise – he's busy relieving his son. Now I'm here to relieve my brother."

Marcurio looked nervous at this.

"Sir, the Empire's officials are in the city," Marcurio said, protective arm going round the small son next to him. "We think they're trying to put Leif Battle-Born on the throne. They're saying Hrongar's too young to be Jarl."

"Well, they're not wrong there," Balgruuf sighed. "But as for the Empire, the Hold chooses its Jarl, not them or even the High King. Unless the city rises to put another in Dragonsreach, Whiterun's still mine and I decide who we swear our fealty to."

"Are we at war with the Empire?" Marcurio's son, little Severio, piped up. "Everyone is saying Ulfric Stormcloak's declared war and he's going to fight them with the witchmen."

Oh good, the rumour mill was well and truly in full swing. Marcurio hushed his son, but Balgruuf wasn't one to punish children for asking a perfectly reasonable question.

"Ulfric Stormcloak said a lot of emotional things after finding out his father was a prisoner," Balgruuf said delicately. "But he's not Jarl of Eastmarch, his father is. I'm not planning to fight a war with anyone just yet, and nor is Jarl Hoag. Still, if Istlod's so willing to brand me a traitor for suggesting we negotiate with the Reach rather than waste lives invading, I guess that means I don't have to keep my oath of allegiance, do I?"

Both Pelagiuses had gone rather quiet on hearing this, and while they were simple farming folk, they were also Imperials and couldn't be happy about Skyrim telling the Empire where to go.

"Are we going to have to go to Cyrodiil?" Severio whispered. "Sinmir and some of his friends were saying Skyrim was for Nords and soon we'd all have to leave."

The Pelagiuses had lived in Whiterun for as long as anyone could remember, and none of the living members of the family had even seen Cyrodiil. Balgruuf narrowed his eyes, clearly seeing he'd arrived back just in time.

"Whatever my disagreements with either King Istlod or the Empire, Whiterun is an open city to all folk of honour, regardless of their origin," Balgruuf said firmly. "No one is getting thrown off their land or being forced to leave against their will. Master Pelagius, I must bid you good day. I have a city to secure, and then there's a few things my guards and I need to make clear to Sinmir. If you'll excuse me."

Balgruuf spurred his horse on, acutely aware that while a few of his men had made it to Dawnstar and were with him now, most were in the wind still and most of the soldiers with him were Ulfric's. He sincerely hoped this talk of Skyrim for the Nords, and Nords alone, wasn't taking hold among the Stormcloak rank and file. Still, the Stormcloaks were currently getting on with the Reachmen as far as he could tell – Ulfric had even had a few at Dawnstar with him, and no one had seemed too bothered by Ulfric contacting Madanach on that say-arrow bell thing. In fact, despite Ulfric telling him it translated into Tamrielic as a far-speaker, literally everyone seemed to be using the Reach tongue word for it. A good sign for the movement as a whole… but not so good if his own people were starting to turn their wrath against innocent non-Nords.

Balgruuf risked a glance at the two Blades agents riding behind him. One Nord warrior with a Blades katana and shield, Talos amulet and black leather armour that left far too little to the imagination… and a high elven mage. Who'd turned out to be a defector from the Aldmeri Dominion and now Ulfric's personal magical advisor and court mage. It was no honorary appointment either, Ulfric had actually seemed to like her.

Still, a man could like a person and despise the rest of their kind. Balgruuf kept his own counsel on whether that applied to Ulfric, but he knew Jarl Hoag had no problem with mer.

Arriving at the stables, Balgruuf dismounted and handed off his own steed before taking the two Blades aside.

"If the Empire are here, they likely brought Justiciars," Balgruuf said quietly. "I'd offer hospitality at Dragonsreach but I know you'd rather travel discreetly. If you take your leave now, I won't be offended. Ride fast and you could make it to Rorikstead by nightfall."

Tyr turned to Liriel, who was the more conspicuous of the two after all. Liriel glanced at Tyr before golden elven eyes stared right into his.

"If there's any chance your Jarldom's not so secure as you think, you'll likely need all the help you can get to flee the city," Liriel said thoughtfully. "We'd better come with you. If all goes badly, we'll get you out of here and to the Reach. Ulfric's at a loose end and has his militia plus Reachmen now. Losing Whiterun would be a disaster, one I'm sure King Madanach would be keen to avoid."

"And retaking it's a lot easier if you've got the rightful Jarl leading the invasion," Tyr added. "We were hired to get you back to Dragonsreach. We're keeping that promise."

"All the same, I might keep my hood up and hang back if it's all right with you?" Liriel said, raising her hood.

If it got him safely back on his throne it was fine by him.

Whispering in the city, and the guards turning to stare… but they were wearing Whiterun colours, they weren't Imperial troops, and when they saw him, to a man or woman, they stood to attention and saluted, and as whispering turned to amazement turned to delight, Balgruuf felt his confidence returning.

"That's the Jarl! He's alive!"

"Jarl Balgruuf's back! Did they let him go?"

"Course they did, the Jarl's no traitor!"

"Jarl Balgruuf, sir! Welcome back, sir!"

Balgruuf raised a hand in salute, finally letting himself smile. The city was his. Of course it was. He should never have doubted. As he made his way through the streets of Whiterun, through the market, past the Gildergreen and to the steps of Dragonsreach itself, the streets filled behind him as the city turned out to watch. And as he ascended the steps, people began to cheer, chanting his name.

Well now. He'd like to see the Empire try to dethrone him after this.

"You'd better give them some sort of speech," Tyr commented, surveying the scene.

"Tell them what you told that farmer earlier," Liriel added. "That Whiterun's open to all folk of honour."

Trust the elf to have picked up on that. Still, he'd meant it then and he believed it now. Whiterun was a city built on trade and pilgrimage. Easy to besiege if it came to that… so Whiterun didn't pick fights for the sake of it – or sides. But even Whiterun had her limits, and this was Kyne's city, wasn't it? And Kyne was the Warrior Wife.

"People of Whiterun!" Balgruuf called, addressing them all. "By Kynareth, it's good to be back!"

That got a cheer. A good start.

"I hope my brother's been managing in my absence, but you can all agree he's a little too young to be ruling an entire hold!" Balgruuf announced, and while that wasn't a cheer, that was definitely murmured agreement. "So I got free and came back, and if you'll have me, I intend to remain Jarl of Whiterun!"

The important bit, and the cheering said it all.

"There's been talk of fighting in some quarters and uprising against the Empire in others. I do know Ulfric Stormcloak wasn't happy about his father's jailing. But his father's free and restored to his Jarldom this day as I hope to be to mine! By the grace of the Nine, our erstwhile High King didn't get his way this time."

No cheering this time, just whispers and worrying. Because he'd said Nine, not Eight. Because he'd just admitted he'd not been released voluntarily.

"That's right, I wasn't released, I escaped," Balgruuf announced grimly. "Istlod branded me a traitor, because as the Jarl who shares a border with the Reach, I advised caution and negotiation with the Reachmen. I never expected my own King to arrest me – and the Reach-King to rescue me. That's right, his agents arranged my release. They tell me the King and his friends in the Thalmor are still stirred up over it!"

Gasps… and at least one person laughing with delight.

"So I've decided if Istlod won't listen to reason, I won't listen to him," Balgruuf announced. "I'm conferring with the other Jarls, and calling a Moot to select a new High King. Istlod's no longer fit to rule. What that means for our relationship with the Empire is still up for debate. Some are ready to fight them… but I'm still willing to be reasonable. However, I know who my friends are and I repay my debts. I'm here with you once more by the grace of the Nine and the talents of the Reachmen, and Jarl Hoag and I will both be arguing at the Moot that the new ruler of Skyrim should recognise the Reach as an independent kingdom and swear peace with them. I realise many of you aren't easy with this and who can blame you? But the kingdom's a peaceful one. I saw with my own eyes that Nords are welcome there, and so are others from all backgrounds. King Madanach's own son is half-Nord, and Ulfric Stormcloak is adopting the boy as his heir. Madanach's people call him King, and Madanach's Hold has chosen him to rule it. If he calls himself King rather than Jarl and swears fealty to no one, that's his business. But Whiterun will recognise his rulership. In return, he'll stand with us and our allies. You need fear no witchmen raids from the west. Their eyes are on Solitude, as are mine. I don't know what the Empire will do, but I'll tell you this – Whiterun stands free this day… and she doesn't stand alone! Eastmarch, Dawnstar, Falkreath and the Reach, and the other Holds soon to follow! A new day is coming, and when that new day dawns, Skyrim will be there to greet it, hand in hand with all who desire freedom! A Jarl rules because her people will it. A King rules because his Jarls will it! And an Emperor is Emperor over Skyrim for as long as the High King wills it. I welcome more than just Nords in my hold and my city, and it is my hope Skyrim will continue to do likewise. But the presence of the Empire's soldiers and officials and their new Thalmor friends… that remains to be seen. Now, my friends, I have a palace to settle, a brother to reunite with and no doubt a housecarl who's never going to let me out on my own again. Nine watch over you all!"

The applause started slowly at first but it started to build, and as Balgruuf made his way into Dragonsreach, one thing was clear. Whiterun was rising, and while Kyne was known for her patience, Kyne's power in full flow was a terrible thing to behold. Balgruuf dearly hoped her city's power stirred would be the same.

Arguing. Of course Irileth and Avenicci were arguing.

"As in all things, caution! We can't afford to alienate the Empire like this!"

"Alienate the Empire? They alienated us when they captured our Jarl! Are we to roll over and let them do what they like?"

"That's what an oath of fealty means. You keep it even when you don't approve of their actions." Leif Battle-Born that. Balgruuf would love to see what he thought of what his own oath of allegiance was about to ask of him.

"No oath justifies us giving in. It was shaming losing Talos. Now they take our Jarl too? We'd be mad to just let this go."

Vignar Grey-Mane. Who'd not let the Concordat go since it had been signed. Of course he was involved.

"Your Jarl's under arrest for betraying his High King. He's not coming back, and the Empire wants an adult we can rely on running this Hold. Are we actually going to get that, or do I need to return with reinforcements?"

A Cyrodiil accent, belonging to Legate Cipius, the Imperial liaison. Nice to hear him admit so openly he just wanted an Imperial lackey in charge.

"Do you even have reinforcements?" Vignar scoffed. "Barely a third of the Legion's in fighting condition. Most of the Nords who boosted your forces during the war followed Ulfric. You don't have the men, Legate."

"Interesting," an elven voice purred, and he became aware of Liriel cursing softly, and much scurrying behind him. Down two Blades agents then, and it seemed the Stormcloaks were forming an honour guard round their healer-mage.

Still left him with three Whiterun men at his back, and it might be more once Irileth realised he was there.

"We had no idea the Empire's forces were so depleted. My superiors will find that most intriguing."

"Shut your mouth, Thalmor, this doesn't even concern you," Irileth snapped, drawing her sword.

"It concerns me greatly if this Hold plans to allow open Talos worship and maintain its Imperial connections," the Thalmor purred. "There's a shrine still there right near the steps to the palace."

Balgruuf climbed the wooden steps to get a better look at his court, and saw his brother on the actual throne, head in his hands and clearly having had enough. Then he looked up.

"Balgruuf!" Hrongar cried, practically jumping out of the chair and sprinting down the hall, ignoring Irileth's attempts to stop him. Then Hrongar was in his arms, clinging on to him.

"You're back!" Hrongar cried. "Balgruuf, everyone's arguing, like, all the time, the Empire want Leif Battle-Born to be Jarl, Vignar Grey-Mane wants me to sign up with Ulfric Stormcloak, Proventus and Irileth both say I need to stand strong, but they both mean different things! I don't know what to do! And I miss Ma and Pa. Pa always knew what to do, and Ma could stop arguments just by smiling at people. And I don't like the Thalmor being here when we were fighting them before. We were at war but now we're all friends?"

"Hardly that," Balgruuf snorted, feeling his brother's pain. "But part of being Jarl is finding your own path… and knowing when to tell your advisors to back off. Hey. Hrongar. Do you really want to be Jarl or would you prefer me handling all this for you?"

"Yes please," Hrongar said, relieved. "I just want to get better at sword training and maybe join the Legion one day. I don't want to be stuck in Dragonsreach all day! It's so boring!"

"All right then," Balgruuf said, arm round his brother and giving him a hug. "Watch this."

Balgruuf looked up and surveyed Avenicci subtly standing to attention by the throne, calmly indicating for him to sit down, Vignar and Leif both flanking the throne, eyes barely leaving the other, Legate Cipius glaring at him, and a male Thalmor Justiciar who looked frankly alarmed.

"Hrongar just surrendered control of Whiterun to me as Jarl, and there's a city out there cheering my return," Balgruuf announced, making straight for the throne, and while Vignar got a nod, Leif he ignored completely. "You want to discuss Whiterun's future, you discuss it with me."

He glanced at Irileth, who'd sheathed her sword and was actually smiling for once.

"Welcome back, my lord. I did as you asked. We're all pleased to see it worked."

"The Empire had issues with Hrongar as Jarl, they had doubts about his age and experience," Avenicci added. "Now you're back, maybe we can allay their fears."

"Fears?" Cipius snapped. "He was arrested for treason! King Istlod never just let him go, still less the Legate!"

"King Istlod called me a traitor for advising caution rather than war," Balgruuf snapped back, hands on his throne, settling back into it, re-acquainting himself with its still relatively new contours. He was still very much getting used to this Jarl thing… but it was definitely growing on him. "So I've decided I don't owe him my loyalty. We're calling a Moot, Legate. We want a new King. When there is one Whiterun's happy with, he'll talk to the Empire. As it is, Whiterun's an independent Hold from this moment on. I want you and your soldiers out of here by tomorrow. And take your Thalmor friend with you."

"WHAT?" Leif Battle-Born cried, even as Vignar nodded in approval, and Irileth drew her sword again, beckoning the palace guards over. "You can't be serious!"

"I'm perfectly serious, Battle-Born, and don't think I haven't noticed you muscling in on my throne as soon as you thought I wasn't coming back!" Balgruuf snapped. "Go home, Leif. Your clan aren't taking over Whiterun, not today."

Leif opened and closed his mouth, but there was nothing left to say. Mutely, he walked out of the palace. Legate Cipius prepared to do likewise, but he had some last words.

"Very well, Jarl. I'll go for now. But don't think you've heard the last of this. The Empire will be back."

"Indeed," the Justiciar commented. "Oh, and when the Empire reclaims this city… anyone who was openly worshipping Talos in the interim will be persons of interest to the Thalmor. Keep it in mind, Jarl."

Balgruuf growled, watching them leave, and then he glanced at his court members. Who needless to say, had opinions.

"Welcome back, my lord," Irileth said, sheathing her sword and taking her place by his side. "I'll have the guards keeping an eye on Battle-Born, but I think he's mostly talk."

"Likely but I can do without him passing information to his friends in Solitude," Balgruuf sighed, crossing his legs and leaning back. "Also I have heard talk of Sinmir and a few of his friends harassing non-Nords. Put a stop to that. If I turn my back on the Empire, it's because they played falsely with me, not because I only want Nords in Skyrim."

"Will do, my lord," Irileth said, looking practically gleeful at this idea. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Grey-Mane. I hear you're a Thane now."

"Your brother appointed me. Apparently it was felt he needed additional advisors," Vignar said, moving closer, appraising Balgruuf carefully. "You always struck me as Imperial to the core. What changed?"

"All that time in an Imperial jail cell," Balgruuf said quietly. He wasn't ready to talk to anyone about Talos speaking from a Nord girl's face just yet. "Look, you can keep your Thane title, but I have my own ideas about how to run this city. I know you served with Ulfric and only taking care of Brill kept you from marching out with him to Markarth. But you should know Ulfric runs only his militia, he's not Jarl, not with his father back now. He's sworn his fealty to Madanach."

"I know," Vignar said, grimacing. "I don't like it… but if the Reachmen are truly standing up for Talos worship when no one else will, how can any true Nord not do likewise? You did the right thing telling the Empire to leave."

"Yes, until they return with a Legion," Avenicci interrupted. "Sir, have you given any thought to the city's defence?"

"Of course I have," Balgruuf sighed. "I told the city we didn't stand alone, and we won't. Vignar. Write and tell Ulfric that if he values this alliance, I'll need his men helping defend this city. If the Stormcloaks want to fight the Legion, I'm happy for them to do it in defence of Whiterun."

"I'm sure Ulfric will be more than pleased to bring his men here," Vignar promised, taking his leave.

Balgruuf was sure he would too. But he also knew who Ulfric truly owed loyalty to, and he'd need to start treaty negotiations at some point. Why not now.

"Avenicci. We also have a few Stormcloaks here now. They'll need hospitality but don't go overboard. They're soldiers, they're used to discomfort. Basic sleeping accommodation but don't stint on the mead."

"Bedding down in the hall it is then," Avenicci sighed. "Anything else, sir?"

"Yes. It's not just Ulfric we need to contact. If we're recognising the Reach, we need to make a few things clear before we commit to anything. We're writing to the Reach-King. I'm inviting him here. King Madanach wants my friendship? He'd better come visit me."

"Yes, my lo- wait. You're recognising the Reach?"

Balgruuf wished he'd had a chance to discuss this with his steward earlier, he really did. When he'd left, he'd been telling his court he was going to investigate, no more. Now here he was offering a treaty.

"Yes. Don't look at me like that, I need allies. Also his agents rescued me. I owe him… but I can decide the terms of repayment. We're inviting him. And then we've got a treaty to draft. We've got a lot of work to do."

"Yes my lord," Avenicci sighed, bracing himself. "I suppose if you are bent on offending the Empire, letting Reachmen die in place of your own men isn't a bad idea."

Not to mention a siara-bell for Dragonsreach. Or one for the palace, and one for his courtiers. And access to whatever else Markarth might come up with. Perhaps Talos's orders and a debt of honour had started him down this path, but if a few magical trinkets might be littering the road too? That was all to the good.

A/N: Whiterun might be my favourite city in the game, and it's good to write it for once. It was also interesting realising during this just how Whiterun's geography is informing its politics in a lot of ways. Balgruuf playing it neutral in game likely has a lot to do with how easy his city is to besiege, but that's an asset in peacetime because it's easy to get to and dominates the land trade routes.

Anyway, next chapter is still in Whiterun... to be precise, Jorrvaskr. You just know the Companions have been observing all this, even if they're staying out of it.