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[askdeadkingtorygg]

What was your relationship with your father like?

The former High King opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

"Good," he said, after a short pause. "At least, up until my mother’s death. After that…..Well, he took her death very hard. He loved her. He didn’t always show it, but he loved her. I think that’s part of the reason he adored Elisif so much, she reminded him of my mother."

He sighed. “We were civil towards each other in the presence of others, for Skyrim’s sake. But when we were alone, it was a nightmare. We both blamed each other for her suicide.”

[askdeadkingtorygg]

When Torygg is six years old, he attends Court. Or rather, he sneaks away from his nurse and observes Court from the hallway.

The Blue Palace is packed full of people -- too many people. Tension floats in the air like a Frostfall Aurora Borealis over a battlefield. He can sense something bad is about to happen.

His father, the High King, slouches low on his throne, pinching the bridge of his nose. His mother sits perched upon hers, listening attentively to whoever is speaking. They hold hands, appearing as united as any royal couple should, but even at his young age, Torygg knows that it is just a facade. He knows that his mother's hand is the only thing tethering his father to his duties as High King. If their fingers were not interlocked, he would have excused himself hours ago. She gives his fingers a sharp squeeze every time the person before them says something important, which is often.

It is not an unusual sight for Torygg. What is an unusual sight, however, is the black-and-gold outfits that occupy a corner of the room. He's seen them before, but they were in their headquarters near Castle Dour. They've never been in court before.

Someone says something to one of the Thalmor, and the entire Palace goes silent. It's Thane Heljaf. He hasn't spoken to her before, but he has spoken to her daughter, Bryling. He picked her flowers.

Sunlight filters in through the open window, highlighting the gold in the tapestries, the vases, the jewellery, the elves' uniforms, the dagger--

Before blood can be spilt, Sybille is suddenly in front of him, hurriedly pulling him away. His eyes may have been saved from the sight of the impromptu execution, but not his ears. He can hear sickening noise of blood hitting the stone marble floor, the shocked gasps of the court members, the thud of the Thane's body slumping to the floor. Then he hears the Altmer's voice, condescending and filled with self-importance, "Let that be a warning to you all."

Sybille pulls him into an empty bedroom and gives him a pointed look, as if she expects him to cry. He doesn't.

Instead, he studies her face. She is breathing heavily, like a courier after delivering an important message, and her eyes shine an unusual colour that is somewhere between red and yellow.

"Syb, s'ok," he said, trying to reassure her. His mother often told him to consider the feelings of others more, so now he was.

"No, Torygg," came the reply. Her voice was strained, and she sounded distant. "You don't understand."

She is right.

[askdeadkingtorygg]

how would you like to have died?

Torygg sighed. “Even though Sovngarde is amazing, I still would have preferred to die of old age in my bed, surrounded by my loved ones. An eternity of mead-swilling with the heroes of legend is quite literally heaven for many Nords, but not me.”

"I’m lonely here," he confessed. "My father died the way I wished to, and my mother..."

His voice trailed off as he found himself transported back to the day his mother died. He could feel the cold stone beneath his feet, hear the voices telling him to stay back, smell the metallic tang of blood in the air, see his mother's lifeless body lying on the bed...

[askdeadkingtorygg]

what would you name your children?

A lazy smirk grew across Torygg’s face. “You’d have to ask Elisif, although I would probably have suggested either Istlod or Dagnla, to honour my parents.”

[askdeadkingtorygg]

"They say Ulfric Stormcloak murdered the High King... with his voice! Shouted him apart!"

He rolled his eyes. “Very funny. And for clarification; Ulfric did not shout me apart, he shouted me onto the ground. It was his sword that killed me, not his Thu’um.”

[askdeadkingtorygg]

How do you feel about Ulfric now that you're dead?

Torygg had to think for a minute, deciding how he actually felt towards the man who had ended his life.

Finally, he spoke, "Even though I’m…dead because of him, I admire him greatly. He has an entire army of people who have sworn their lives to him. They fight for him, and when they die, it is his name is whispered with their dying breaths. How could I not respect any man that has managed to rally half of Skyrim to fight the Empire and the Dominion?”  

[askdeadkingtorygg]

Did you love Elisif?

"Of course. I had to, anyway, but she didn’t make it very hard for me." A smile crossed Torygg’s lips at the thought of his Queen. "I still love her," he realised. "I know I should say that I hope she’s moved on and found someone that can make her as happy as she deserves to be, and I do want that for her, but—"

He sighed. “There is a part of me that desperately hopes she is still mourning. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help it. The thought of her in the arms of another—…it hurts.” 

[askdeadkingtorygg]

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