Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-11457306-20140712122513/@comment-11457306-20140717034334

Tegan felt the room spinning. She held on to the sides of the cot, glad she was sitting down.

''Jarl Ulfric's nephew? ''

Now his deep hatred of the Empire made sense. She agreed with it, applauded it, but felt somehow betrayed that he had never said anything. His voice, his mannerisms, some of his choices in phrasing, all came back to her in a rush and she wondered why she had never seen it. She felt...awed and just a bit frightened. He ranked her, definitely. She was far more distantly related, removed by several side branches. He was nephew, in line for the throne if no other heirs were discovered. His backside was meant for the stone chair. She suddenly realized she had to make this work, not just for Jarl Ulfric's memory, but for Bjolmar.

She felt sick.

(Now I must go.  Good night, all.)