I'm Really Not the Dragonborn.

The Jarls took their designated seats within the ancient hall of High Hrothgar. Arngeir stood before them, his gaze sweeping across the assembled Jarls. The other Greybeards choose to remain in the shadows, still and silent within the walls.

"The Moot begins," Arngeir announced, his voice resonating within the hall. "May the wisdom of the Thu'um guide your words and actions."

He turned his gaze towards Ulfric, his expression grave.

"Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, it was you who proposed this gathering. Speak, and let your words set the course for the Moot."

Ulfric rose to his feet, his figure commanding attention despite his weariness. He exuded a charismatic aura, a blend of conviction and raw power that had swayed many to his cause. His eyes scanned the assembled Jarls but lingering for a moment more on Ibnor. 

"Jarls of Skyrim," he began, his voice ringing through the hall, "we stand at a crossroads. The civil war, a conflict that has torn our land asunder, is finally over. The Empire, that once mighty force, has been defeated. We are free, once again, to forge our own destiny."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the hall, taking in the faces of those who had followed him, those who had opposed him, and those who remained uncertain.

"But the price of this freedom has been steep. We have lost brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers. Our land is scarred, our people are weary. Yet, I say to you, the lives lost will not be in vain. We will not allow their sacrifice to be forgotten."

He clenched his fist, his voice rising with passion.

"We will unite! We will forge a new Skyrim, a stronger Skyrim, a Skyrim that will stand as a beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness. A Skyrim that will not bow to the corrupt Empire, nor to the insidious Thalmor!"

He gestured towards the ancient walls of High Hrothgar, his voice filled with reverence.

"We gather here, in this sacred place, to honor our traditions, to invoke the wisdom of our ancestors. These are times that demand a strong hand, a unifying presence. A leader to guide us through these turbulent times, to stand as a symbol of our unity, a champion of our freedom!"

His eyes blazed with conviction as he looked at each Jarl in turn.

"We will build a better Skyrim, a Skyrim worthy of the sacrifices made. We will rise from the ashes of war, stronger and more united than ever before! And to do this, we must have a High King among us."

He sat down, the silence in the hall heavy with the weight of his words. His speech, while stirring, held no surprises. The Jarls, having anticipated his ambition, exchanged knowing glances. Only Thongvor, his face flushed with fervent support, nodded enthusiastically, his gaze fixed on Ulfric with unwavering loyalty. The others, however, remained thoughtful, their expressions a mix of calculation and veiled skepticism.

"Jarl Ulfric has spoken of freedom, of unity, and of the need for a leader to guide Skyrim through these turbulent times," Arngeir summarized, his tone neutral, yet carrying an undercurrent of profound wisdom. "He speaks of the sacrifices made, and the vision he holds for a stronger, more united Skyrim."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled Jarls, lingering for a moment on each face.

"Now, it is your turn. The Moot is a place for discussion, for the sharing of thoughts and concerns. Speak freely, Jarls. Let your voices be heard."

Balgruuf rose to his feet. He carried himself with a dignity despite his wariness evident in his posture.

"Jarl Ulfric," he began, "you speak of unity and a High King. These are noble aspirations, but they raise certain concerns. How, exactly, will the selection of a High King affect the governance of our holds? Will it alter the established traditions and customs that have served us for generations?"

He paused, allowing his words to sink in.

"What impact will this decision have on the autonomy of each hold? Will our voices still carry weight in the matters that directly affect our people? Previously, we are all equals, gathering beneath the great tree, called the Empire. Will it change, now that we are not?"

Ulfric, his eyes unwavering, met Balgruuf's gaze.

"Jarl Balgruuf, your concerns are valid. The High King is not meant to be a tyrant, nor a usurper of your authority. He is merely a leader among equals, a guiding voice in times of crisis. He will not interfere in the internal affairs of your holds, nor dictate how you govern your people."

He gestured with an open hand, his tone persuasive.

"However, as the chosen leader, the High King will have the right to make decisions on matters of great importance, issues that affect the entirety of Skyrim. Matters of war, of trade, of defense against external threats – these are the burdens the High King will bear, so that you, the Jarls, can focus on the well-being of your own people."

"The High King will be the shield of Skyrim, the voice that speaks for us all, the symbol of our unity," Ulfric concluded, his voice ringing with conviction. "He will not diminish your power, but amplify it, so that together, we can forge a stronger, more prosperous Skyrim."

Arngeir, his ancient eyes observing the interplay between Ulfric and Balgruuf, rose once more seeing the time is right.

"We have heard Jarl Ulfric's vision of a unified Skyrim, led by a High King," Arngeir began, summarizing the exchange with a measured tone. "We have also heard Jarl Balgruuf's concerns regarding the autonomy of the holds and the potential impact of such a decision on their governance. Jarl Ulfric has assured us that the High King's role will be one of leadership in matters of shared importance, not interference in the internal affairs of individual holds."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled Jarls, lingering for a moment on each face.

"Now, I ask you, Jarls of Skyrim, do you have any further concerns? Any questions that remain unanswered? This is the time for open discourse, for the voicing of all doubts and opinions. Let us proceed with clarity and understanding."

A tense silence filled the hall as the Jarls exchanged glances, each waiting for another to speak. Ulfric, his eyes narrowed, broke the stillness. He turned his gaze towards Ibnor, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"King Ibnor," Ulfric began, the title laced with a hint of playful mockery, "we have heard much of your… accomplishments. Your swift rise to power, your… unique methods. I am curious, what are your thoughts on this matter? Do you believe a High King is necessary for Skyrim's future?"

Ibnor raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion.

"My thoughts? You wish to hear my… opinions?" He tilted his head, wearing a mask of innocent curiosity.

Ulfric's smirk widened.

"Of course, King Ibnor. This is a matter that concerns all of Skyrim. And you, after all, are now recognized as a… major power within our borders." He said, his tone suggesting a subtle challenge.

Ibnor's smile broadened, but it held a hint of steel.

"Well, in that case, I must say, everything you and Jarl Balgruuf have said is… absolutely correct."

Ibnor's simple, almost dismissive, answer sent ripples through the hall. The Jarls reacted with varying degrees of surprise and suspicion.

"He's playing coy, he thought, but what game is he playing? He wouldn't come all this way to simply agree." Balgruuf raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze fixed on Ibnor. 

Elisif, her expression delicate yet thoughtful, was equally surprised. She had observed Ibnor, noted his strategic mind and calculated actions. 

"He is not a man to yield so easily," she mused, "there is something more to this."

"He's up to something?" she thought, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "I wonder what devilish scheme he's concocting?" Maven Black-Briar, a sly smirk playing on her lips, leaned back in her chair. 

Idgrod Ravencrone, her eyes closed, remained silent, her face serene. A faint tremor ran through her, as if she were witnessing events beyond the present. 

Korir frowned, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. 

"Is he… submitting?" he wondered, his pragmatic mind struggling to reconcile Ibnor's actions with his reputation.

Thongvor, however, beamed with undisguised satisfaction.

"He knows his place," he thought, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Finally, he recognizes Ulfric's rightful claim."

Arngeir gave a sweeping gaze across the room, observing their reactions. He then raised his hand, silencing the murmurs. 

"The matter we now address, Jarls, concerns the very foundation of Skyrim's future. We have heard the calls for unity, and the necessity of a singular hand to guide our people. Therefore, we must decide: shall we, in these times of turmoil, elect a High King to lead us?" He stated, his voice resonating within the stone hall. "If there are no further voices to be heard against this course, let those who deem a High King essential to Skyrim's prosperity, declare their assent."

Balgruuf, Elisif, Idgrod, Korir and Maven directed their attention towards Ibnor. Only after Ibnor gave a subtle nod, did they then speak.

One by one, the Jarls declared their votes. 

"Aye." Balgruuf, his expression thoughtful, voted 

"Agreed." Elisif, her voice clear and steady, followed suit. 

"Aye." Maven Black-Briar, also voted with a sly smile.

"Aye, as the visions guide." Idgrod Ravencrone, her eyes still closed, simply murmured. 

"Aye," Korir, gave his vote with a pragmatic nod.

"Aye. Let it be so." Thongvor, his face beaming, declared with enthusiastic fervor.

All eyes then turned to Ibnor, who remained silent.

Ulfric, his brow furrowed, leaned forward. 

"King Ibnor," he asked, his voice laced with a hint of suspicion. "Why do you remain silent? Does your silence mean you do not agree?"

"You… you want me to vote?" Ibnor, his expression still feigning confusion, tilted his head slightly.

"The High King will be the leader among the Holds and bear heavy responsibilities. If everyone agrees there should be one to shoulder that responsibility, they need to be clear to avoid future dissension." Ulfric, his patience wearing thin, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger, replied. "It is not a matter of whether we want your vote or not, it is a matter of whether you want to vote or not. This is a matter that concerns all of Skyrim, and you are, after all, the ruler of Dawnstar."

Ibnor's smile widened, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes. 

"Well, if there's no harm in voting…" He paused for dramatic effect, then declared, his voice clear and resonant, "Then, aye. I am in agreement."

A collective sigh seemed to sweep through the hall. The final verdict was clear. A High King was deemed necessary for Skyrim.

"The vote is concluded. It is the will of this Moot that a High King shall be chosen to lead Skyrim. Therefore, the next matter is clear: who shall bear this responsibility?" Arngeir, his gaze solemn, addressed the Jarls. 

He paused, allowing his words to resonate within the ancient hall. 

"Jarls, do any of you have a candidate in mind for this position?"

A tense silence fell over the hall. Balgruuf, Elisif, Idgrod, Korir, and Maven, as if guided by an unseen force, once again directed their attention towards Ibnor. This time, however, Ibnor shook his head lightly, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes.

"What now?" he wondered, "He holds the power, why does he refuse to wield it?" Balgruuf's brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. 

"He plays a deeper game, but what are his true intentions?" Elisif's eyes widened slightly, a hint of surprise mingling with her usual composure. 

She had expected Ibnor to seize this opportunity, to assert his dominance. 

"Intriguing," Maven Black-Briar thought, her eyes gleaming with a calculating amusement. "He's toying with them, drawing them into his web."

Her lips curled into a thin, almost imperceptible smile. 

"The visions shift again," Idgrod Ravencrone murmured silently, her eyes closed, remaining still. "The path is shrouded in darkness."

Korir frowned, his pragmatic mind struggling to comprehend Ibnor's actions. 

"He refuses the crown?" he thought, his voice laced with disbelief. "What manner of king is this?"

Thongvor cleared his throat before eagerly speaking.

"Ehem, if we are talking about who would be best suited to be the High King, there is none other tha.." 

"Hold," Ibnor interrupted, his voice calm and clear, cutting through Thongvor's enthusiasm.

Ulfric narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on Ibnor, his mind racing. 

"What game is he playing now?" he thought, his expression a mask of carefully controlled patience. 

"King Ibnor," he said, his voice low and measured, "what exactly do you have in mind?"

Ibnor gave the assembled Jarls a warm smile, but to Ulfric, it seemed to carry a hint of something darker, a devilish amusement that sent a chill down his spine. 

"Before we proceed to the selection of a High King," Ibnor began, his voice smooth and persuasive, "I simply wished to make an announcement."

Ulfric forced himself to remain calm, though his knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrest of his chair. 

"An announcement?" he asked, his voice strained. "Very well, King Ibnor. Share this… Announcement, with us."

"First," Ibnor said, his smile widening, "I must thank Jarl Ulfric for summoning this Moot. It has provided me with a most… convenient platform for my announcement. I couldn't have asked for a better venue, nor a more opportune occasion." 

"And of course, I welcome each and every one of you, and thank you for making the journey here, to High Hrothgar." He gestured expansively, taking in the ancient hall and the assembled Jarls. 

Ulfric took a deep breath, tightening his fist, his patience fraying at the edges. Thongvor, however, could no longer contain his anger.

"Enough!" he snapped, his voice rough and impatient. "We have no time for your flowery words, Ibnor. Speak plainly, or be silent!"

"Games, Jarl Thongvor? I merely wished to express my gratitude. What, precisely, do you mean?" Ibnor raised an eyebrow, his smile fading slightly.

He paused, his voice taking on a subtly dangerous edge.

"Perhaps you are forgetting your place, Jarl? Such rudeness is… unbecoming. There were once, two Jarls, you see, who displayed a similar lack of decorum. One lost his right to lead before being forced to take refuge like a rat, the other lost his hold entirely and now languishes as my… guest. I would hate for you to suffer a similar fate."

"You dare—" Thongvor, his face turning a shade of crimson, pointed a trembling finger at Ibnor.

Ulfric slammed his hand on the stone table, the resounding crack echoing through the hall, silencing Thongvor. 

"Enough!" he roared, his eyes blazing with anger. He turned to Thongvor, his gaze a silent warning. "Silence, Jarl. This is neither the time nor the place for such… outbursts." 

"Jarl Ulfric had spoken wisely. We urged for all that present, not to forget the purpose of this convention. High Hrothgar is not a place for violence." Arngeir intervenes, giving a clear reminder to everyone.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

"King Ibnor," he said, his voice low and controlled, "please, continue."

""Of course, Master Arngeir." Ibnor nodded briefly, then his gaze sharpened as he turned back to Ulfric. "As I was saying, Jarl Ulfric, I must commend you on your… foresight." 

"Continuing, before I was so… rudely interrupted," Ibnor continued, his voice smooth and deceptively calm, "I had an announcement to make. Dawnstar hereby declares its independence. It is now a sovereign nation, and I am its founding King."

A wave of shocked murmurs rippled through the hall. Jarls exchanged stunned glances, their expressions a mix of disbelief and apprehension.

"There will be a coronation ceremony next month. You are all cordially invited to attend." Ibnor continued, his smile widening. 

"What is your intention, Ibnor? What game are you playing?" Ulfric, his teeth gritted, his eyes burning with controlled fury, leaned forward. 

Ibnor tilted his head, his expression innocent. 

"Intention? What intention could I possibly have? Dawnstar's independence has been planned for some time. We sought recognition from the Empire, but were denied. Our rebellion was a natural consequence."

"You seek to divide Skyrim once more! This is exactly what one would expect from a shit-stirrer like you, Ibnor!" Thongvor, his face flushed with rage, stood abruptly. 

"Do you dare repeat that, Jarl?" Ibnor's smile vanished. His face fell, his eyes hardening. 

"You have repeatedly displayed a lack of respect towards me. I have tolerated your rudeness, but it seems to give you the impression that you can walk all over me as you wish." He continued, his voice low and dangerous. 

Suddenly, a wave of oppressive energy emanated from Ibnor, a suffocating aura that pressed down on the Jarls, making it difficult to breathe. The air crackled with unseen power.

"King Ibnor, remember the sacredness of this place. High Hrothgar is not a place for such… displays." Arngeir, his voice strained, attempted to intervene. 

Ibnor turned his gaze towards Arngeir, his eyes cold. 

"With all due respect, Greybeard, on account of your allegiance to Paarthurnax, I advise you to stay out of this."

Despite the crushing pressure, Ulfric rose to his feet, his arm outstretched, shielding Thongvor. 

"What do you intend to do, Ibnor?" he demanded, his voice strained but firm.

Ibnor's smile returned, though it held a chilling edge. 

"It's not what I intend to do, Jarl Ulfric. It's what he intends to do." He gestured towards Thongvor. "He has repeatedly insulted my dignity, and I take that as a direct challenge to my sovereignty."

"You merely seek to disrupt the Moot with your unreasonable actions." Ulfric accused.

Ibnor lets out a cynical smile and reigns in his aura, the suffocating pressure lifting. 

"Disrupt? How am I disrupting anything? I voted for a High King, did I not?"

"Declaring independence is the same as saying you will not follow the will of the High King, whoever they may be. You are going against the very purpose of this gathering." Ulfric countered.

"Dawnstar's intent to be independent predates this gathering," Ibnor countered, his voice smooth and unyielding. "Whoever you choose as High King is, frankly, none of my concern."

"Then why are you here, Ibnor? Why participate in this charade?" Ulfric's eyes narrowed, his voice laced with suspicion. 

Ibnor's smile turned sharp, his tone laced with a hint of disdain. 

"Has your lust for power so clouded your rationality, Jarl Ulfric? You invited me here. You sought my opinion. While you debated, I remained silent. You asked for my thoughts. Not one word I spoke was a lie. I genuinely believe Skyrim needs a leader to unite its people. But that Skyrim does not include Dawnstar. We, are a sovereign nation."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled Jarls. 

"When the vote was called, I wished to remain neutral. But you insisted I cast my vote. Did I not accommodate you? Did I not show sufficient compliance?"

"Your words are nothing but sophistry, Ibnor. You twist and turn, seeking to deceive us all." Ulfric, his jaw clenched, retorted.

Ibnor's smile widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

"Sophistry? Very well. If you prefer to view it that way, then by all means, let us do it your way."

"There is no way you can come out on top, Ulfric," Ibnor stated, his voice laced with a chilling certainty. "Even if we were to humor you and pretend Dawnstar remained a mere hold of Skyrim, I would still have five out of the nine holds supporting me. You would be a High King in name only."

"I knew it! You always coveted the High Kingship, you always had your eyes on what is rightfully mine!" Ulfric's eyes blazed with fury. 

"Have you gone senile, old man?" Ibnor scoffed. "What High King? I am no Nord. Even if I desired the title, there would be dissent due to my lineage. And let us be frank, even if you bestowed the title upon me, I would disdain it. Who in their right mind would wish to be a mere leader of a fragile coalition? I am a ruler, a King. None shall be above me again. Only by that, will the future I envision be realized."

"You finally reveal your true colors! You crave power for yourself!" Ulfric snapped.

"And you do not?" Ibnor retorted, "Unlike you, I am not deceitful. Why else would I declare independence, if not to make my ambitions clear? You, on the other hand, wish to lord over everyone, yet you are too cowardly to be upfront about it."

"You—!" Ulfric pointed a trembling finger at Ibnor. 

"Me? What about me? Since all the cards are on the table now, how do you wish to proceed? Will you continue with your charade and crown yourself High King? Or will you wage war against me to solidify your legitimacy? I must remind you, however, that continuing this war is not in your best interests, nor in the interests of anyone in this room."

"If you think you can win against all of us, you are sorely mistaken. You are being arrogant." Ulfric, his voice tight with anger, replied.

"Arrogant? Let us see who is truly arrogant, shall we?" Ibnor's smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. 

"Maven," Ibnor said, his voice smooth and commanding, "Riften. Where does your loyalty lie?"

"We belong to your nation, Your Majesty." Maven Black-Briar, with a graceful bow that surprised everyone present, replied. 

A collective gasp filled the hall. Ulfric's eyes widened in disbelief. Ibnor turned to Elisif, his gaze unwavering. 

"Solitude. Where does your loyalty lie?"

"We are forever in your grace, Your Majesty." Elisif, her voice clear and resolute, answered. 

Another unexpected declaration of allegiance. 

"Whiterun, Morthal, and Winterhold," Ibnor continued, his voice ringing through the hall, "to whom do you pledge your swords and shields?"

A tense silence descended upon the Jarls. Ibnor's intent was clear: he was forcing them to choose sides.

Seeing no one was speaking, a gleeful chuckle escaped Ulfric's lips, breaking the silence. 

Balgruuf rose, his expression grave.

"You are a dangerous man, King Ibnor," Balgruuf said, his voice heavy with reluctant admiration. "You have fed us well, with wine and meat, fattening us only to swallow us whole." 

Ulfric's smile broadened, now a predatory grin. 

"Dawnstar has indeed bestowed many benefits upon Whiterun. Given the benefits we enjoyed, we have no choice but to pledge our loyalty." Balgruuf continued.

Ulfric's grin froze.

"Without your protection, we would have long since become dust, my King." Idgrod Ravencrone stood, her eyes filled with a quiet gratitude. 

"I am an old relic. Winterhold has witnessed firsthand the meaning of progress and prosperity. It is true, the newer generation precedes the old. We are forever in your grace, my King." Korir, his face etched with age and wisdom, also rose. 

Ibnor turned his gaze towards Ulfric, his eyes gleaming with triumph. 

"Do you see, Ulfric? Now, you have three choices. One, obediently submit to me, but we both know that is highly unlikely. Two, wage another war, spilling unnecessary blood and bringing suffering to your people, or three…"

Ulfric glared at Ibnor, his eyes filled with hatred.

"… we can honor the traditions of old. A duel, between you and me. Winner takes all. We settle this once and for all." Ibnor continued, his voice laced with a chilling finality.