War does not determine who is right, only who is left. -Bertrand Russell
Slash not stab, frontward attack, block, shield bash, backward attack, step, rinse and repeat.
Thorunn bellowed a battle cry, mauling an Imperial to death by repeatedly pummeling her iron shield into his face. Her battle-honed senses could feel someone coming up on her six. She whirled around, jumping to her feet and around just in time to meet the sword of another Imperial with her shield. She used her free hand to swing her axe around it and into the gut of the enemy. With a sickening splatter of flesh and blood, he recoiled and fell to the ground as Thorunn yanked her axe free.
She kept marching, sulkily searching for her next target. Men in blue armor fell around her almost as much as men in red armor were, but she did not slow down for them. The ringing clash of steel on steel, thundering pound of shield on shield, the snarling and cries of men as the battleground became slick with gore; this was a scene as familiar to Thorunn as the back of her hand. Flames licked the stone walls of the buildings enclosed the city of Solitude, Skyrim's capital. Masonry and rubble rocked loose from being plunged with slinged boulders, adding to the piles of dead bodies both soldier and civilian alike.
The Stormcloaks were ruthless. They were mean, aggressive, violent, and merciless; but these traits were what made a Nord. The Imperials were fools to ever underestimate them.
The steady beat of war drums rhythmatized the gruesome sounds of battle. Thorunn glanced around for the soon-to-be High King, finding him just beyond Galmar Stone-Fist, hashing and thrashing his axes and using the Voice to fell his foes. Galmar slugged his two-handed greatsword powerfully enough to have his enemies trembling and stumbling for an easier target.
It wasn't fair for them to be having fun without her, so Thorunn readied her shield in front of her to block any incoming arrows and held her axe up, ready to plunge into anyone unlucky enough to get in her way. There were always fools in war and she ended up taking out three more Imperials during her siege.
Reaching Galmar's side, she exchanged a curt nod and a crooked victorious grin with him before sidestepping to his six. The two of them had naturally developed a strategy when fighting together: Galmar on the right, Thorunn on the left, back-to-back and unstoppable. With him being a two-handed warrior, he had no efficient way to block any attacks coming from the rear. Thorunn made up for it, being a shield maiden.
There was a roar of thunder as Ulfric Shouted someone into an ice capsule. The ground shook beneath Thorunn's steel boots, catching her off guard and rocking her balance. She caught it just in time to clash her axe with the sword of an Imperial. Thorunn had the advantage; the Imperials had a steadily decreasing morale, and this guy's movements were sloppy and poorly executed, lanced with a sense of hopelessness. Thorunn handled him effortlessly, swinging her axe at him until she had him backed against a wall and trembling just before she delivered the killing blow to his throat.
She hurled her shield around, bashing into an enemy that had foolishly thought they had the jump on her. The Imperial stumbled back and fell to her knees, bringing her sword up to block the blow Thorunn had been aiming to punish. Thorunn brought her shield up beneath the woman's arm to force it out of her way, then hacked her axe into the Imperial's gut.
There was a horn. Thorunn ceased fighting immediately, head snapping to attention. Ulfric had been the culprit. He blowed thrice more, one after the other, its message quick and simple. The Stormcloaks resumed their battle, but Galmar and Thorunn did not. They strategically retreated to Ulfric's side, providing back up while he marched to the gates of the Blue Palace.
He jerked his axe towards the barricades. "Break it down."
Thorunn and Galmar obliged eagerly. They charged forth and mindlessly bludgeoned their respective weapons into the barricade. It was a fairly good way of relieving stress, if Thorunn was being honest. If she had the opportunity, she'd thrash her weapon into a barricade all day. But all good things must come to an end, and it wasn't long before the gates collapsed under the power of Galmar's greatsword and Thorunn's axe.
The two of them waited for the High King to reach their middle before proceeding, stepping over the pile of saw dust and broken wood. The courtyard was surprisingly cleared. Thorunn guessed they'd spent all their men trying to fend off the Stormcloaks in the bulk of the city, thinking that they wouldn't need to guard the palace if they got that far.
But not even Imperials were stupid enough to leave the heart of their city unguarded. Two Imperials stood on either side of the doors, weapons drawn, waiting for Ulfric and his entourage to meet them.
Meet them they did. Ulfric gave Thorunn a nod, the nod that gave her freedom to take the reins of the Voice. She quickly decided which Shout she wanted to deploy. While Galmar and Ulfric distracted the guards, she got off to the side to give her a decent angle. Imperials started pouring into the broken-down gates, realizing too late just how fragile their chances of victory were. Stormcloaks followed right after them with weapons raised and voices bellowing.
With the threat of losing, the Imperials fought harder than ever. Nobody forgot that the Empire was once the pride and joy of Skyrim, which meant they were all seasoned fighters, even if their hearts were in the wrong place. Thorunn may not have relished in the idea of killing her kinsmen, but they'd made their choice and they'd signed their death wishes. Just as the Stormcloaks had.
There were more important things to worry about now than morality, like the fact that Stormcloaks were falling left and right at the hands of the Imperials. They'd been battling for over sixteen hours. The Imperials just kept coming, reinforcements after reinforcements, and even the esteemed Dragonborn whose entire life was defined by the blood she spilled gets exhausted.
They'd need something more powerful than will.
Thorunn tensed her shoulders and opened her mouth. She reached deep into her essence, pulling out the dovah that resided within and projecting it into her stentorian Thu'um. "O-dah-viing!" she Shouted, thunder racking the walls and unsettling the ground as her voice traveled to the sky and kissed the clouds.
Mere seconds passed before the ginormous winged silhouette flew overhead. The powerful jaws of the dragon opened as he roared, diving down in one fluid, graceful sweep to make sure the Dragonborn knew he had answered her call.
"Clear the way! Clear the way!" Thorunn bellowed.
The Stormcloaks started falling back. They'd fought with Thorunn enough times to know what she was doing, and their first instinct was to block the exit of the courtyard to prevent any Imperials from fleeing.
"Shield wall!" Ulfric bellowed, his deep voice carrying much better than Thorunn's.
The Stormcloaks gathering at the gateway knelt down and brought their shields up to cover their bodies and block out the fire that was about to wreak havoc. Thorunn scanned her eyes over the vicininty, making sure not a lick of blue was able to be seen among the gathering chaos. She waited until Ulfric and Galmar were out of range before signaling the dragon above.
"Odahviing, nu!" she ordered.
The mighty dragon dived into the city in a rush. As his ragged wings swooped the ground, they left an overwhelming gust of air in their midst, which was hard enough to stand against. Next came the breath of the dov. Odahviing inhaled air and exhaled fire, painting the ground with his deadly Thu'um. The courtyard, previously shrouded in the darkness of evening, lit up with bright orange and gold hues. The screams of men coated in fire pierced Thorunn's ears.
It was over as soon as it began. After making his swoop, Odahviing took to the skies again, disappearing into the clouds. Thorunn regarded him fondly as he vanished. The two of them had met under very tense circumstances- she had him chained to the outpost of a palace in Whiterun, and dragons do not like being chained -but now, any ill will they once had for one another might as well have never happened. Odahviing was always there to heed her call, and she was always there to heed his.
The Stormcloaks who'd been taking cover behind their shield wall gradually lowered their shields and came to. They started filing into the courtyard, avoiding the spots thick with flame.
Ulfric approached the center. "This is it, men!" he began. "It's time to make this city ours! We come to this moment carried by the sacrifices and the courage of our fellows. Those who have fallen, and those still bearing the shields to our right. On this day, our enemy will witness the fullness of our determination, the true depth of our anger and the exhalted righteousness of our cause. The gods are watching. The spirits of our ancestors are stirring. And the men under suns yet to dawn will be transformed by what we do here today. Fear neither pain, nor darkness.
"For Sovngarde awaits those who die with weapons in their hands, and courage in their hearts. We now fight our way to Castle Dour to cut the head off the legion itself! And in that moment, the gods will look down and see Skyrim as she was meant to be. Full of Nords who are mighty, powerful, and free! Ready now! Everyone, with me! For the sons and daughters of Skyrim!"
A deafening roar of cheers pierced the smoky air. The smell of burning flesh assaulted Thorunn's nostrils, but she remained respectfully quiet at Ulfric's side. This smell was nothing she wasn't already accustomed to. The Stormcloaks started pounding the hilts of their weapons on their shields, matching each other's time perfectly. It was eery background noise for Ulfric, Galmar, and Thorunn to pry the door of Castle Dour open and enter at their own will.
When the door shut behind them, the war drums, the pounding, and the cheers all came to a strange cease. General Tullius was standing with his sword drawn, Legate Rikke at his side.
There was no semblance of chance for a surrender, Thorunn thought as she watched the look on Tullius's face transform from anger to raw rage. "Let us put an end to this, Ulfric." he spat between gritted teeth.
Ulfric drew his axe quite calmly. Galmar and Thorunn had never put their weapons away to begin with. "Secure the door," he ordered Galmar.
"Already done," assured Galmar.
Rikke was next to speak, her jaw clenched and her shoulders tense. "Ulfric. Stop."
Ulfric scoffed. "Stop what?" he retorted. "Taking Skyrim back from those who'd leave her to rot?" It was no secret that General Tullius held no fondness for Skyrim. He cared only for his Empire and their prosper. He had no business claiming a presence in Skyrim.
"You're wrong, Ulfric," said Rikke. There was an odd sadness in her voice. "We need the Empire. Without it, Skyrim will assuredly fall to the Dominion."
"You were there with us. You saw it. The day the Empire signed that damned treaty was the day the Empire died." snarled Galmar Stone-Fist.
"The Empire is weak, obsolete," Ulfric added, so sure of himself. "Look at how far we've come and with so little. When we're done rooting out Imperial influence here at home, then we will take our war to the Aldmeri Dominion."
Rikke shook her head. "You're a damn fool." she gritted.
"Stand aside, woman," Galmar ordered, taking a threatening step forward. "We've come for the general."
"He has given up," said Rikke, gathering her courage, "but I have not."
"Rikke, go. You're free to leave." Ulfric clearly did not want this woman's blood, which piqued Thorunn's curiosity. Very rarely did he relay mercy on his foes, though he did display a certain thoughtfulness. But towards the Imperials? Never.
"I'm also free to stay and fight for what I believe." retorted Rikke, her words spitting like venom.
"You're also free to die for it."
The Legate lost her temper. "This is what you wanted? Shield brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart? This is the Skyrim you wanted?" From behind Ulfric, Thorunn growled beneath her breath and began to charge when Ulfric calmly held up a hand to stop her.
"Damn it, woman, stand aside!" Galmar commanded, but this time his command was half a plea.
"That's not the Skyrim I want to live in," she added darkly.
"Rikke," Ulfric reasoned, "you don't have to do this."
"You've left me no choice... Talos preserve us." And with that, the dance ensued.
Thorunn went straight for Rikke, while Ulfric and Galmar went for Tullius. Her shield clashed with Rikke's and Thorunn dug her heels into the ground to prevent her balance from off-setting with the pressure Rikke was applying. The two women pushed against one another with their shields, a raw battle between nothing but strength.
In the end, Thorunn won. She took her shield and pulled it back just slightly enough to get Rikke to stumble, then finished her off by bashing her shield thrice into hers. Rikke trampled backwards, clashing into the wall with a piercing nails-against-chalkboard noise thanks to the steel in her armor and the stone in the walls.
Thorunn held her shield up to cover her side while she advanced on Rikke with her axe. Rikke's sword stopped it from getting much further than a foot away from her chest. She swung her sword aside while it was hooked with Thorunn's axe, and Thorunn lost her grip and ended up disarmed.
Thorunn eluded an incoming blow with her shield. While Rikke's sword was still connected with the shield, Thorunn thrust it upwards, then down into Rikke's gut. She grunted with pain, stumbling once more, tripping over her own foot, and falling to her knees. By the look in her eyes, she knew it was all over, but she kept fighting. She went to bring her sword up when Thorunn wrenched it free from her hand.
Thorunn used the woman's own sword to kill her, plunging it into her chest. The last emotion to fill Rikke's eyes was resignation, and Thorunn used her foot to push her off the sword, freeing it. She tossed it aside and picked her axe back up.
Ulfric had a wound in his side. Galmar had a gash streaking across his face. And most importantly, Tullius looked generally unscathed. Anger rising in the pit of her stomach, Thorunn charged forward, using all of her strength to pummel her shield into the back of Tullius then giving her axe a round. Tullius let out a cry of pain as blood spurted from the wound in his back, spreading and staining his armor with crimson red liquid.
Ulfric took advantage of the setback and hooked his axe into Tullius's throat.
There was a moment of silence as the weight sunk in. A squelching sound echoed through the room as Ulfric removed his axe, and Tullius's body fell limply to the ground. Ulfric's eyes passed from the two dead bodies, to Galmar, then to Thorunn.
Then he smiled, and Thorunn smiled, and Galmar smiled.
"Looks like a new High King sits upon Skyrim's throne," said Galmar.