Ralof was ecstatic to hear that he would be riding Yolah into the battle, and he watched Qassanda kiss Ulfric once more before showing him how to mount a dragon.

Qassanda wedged herself between two of the long spikes on Yolah's neck, right behind his head, and Ralof sat between the two spikes behind her, awkwardly grasping her hips, which were already bruised from Ulfric's hands, to keep himself on.

"Let's go, Yolah. Bo," the Dragonborn called, and she hissed as Ralof's vice grip dug into her bruises as the dragon lifted off the ground and began to circle low in the sky, allowing the man atop him to accustom himself to the thin air so high up.

They watched from on high as the troops began to march, and Qassanda called out directions for Yolah to move in.

The dragon circled over Solitude, and hovered over the blue palace, high enough that arrows couldn't reach.

"Ralof, let go of me for a moment and cover your ears," Qassanda commanded. Ralof did as told by the officer and covered his ears as Yolah's booming voice called the attention of the civilians below.

"Listen, mortals, and heed my word. This day, the Stormcloaks come to march on your city. Know that this day, the Empire shall fall!"

They flew from the city, circling the mountains while they waited for the army to come.

Once the Stormcloaks had reached Katla's farm, Qassanda and Ralof flew with Yolah, back to Solitude. As they flew over the walls, Yolah spoke again in his powerful voice.

"Yol, toor shul!" he shouted in one direction, while Qassanda shouted in the other.

"Fo…krah diin!"

Archers screamed and fell, half of them burning and the other half freezing. Yolah landed on the inside of the walls and roared like the beast he was, destroying guards and Imperial soldiers with his tail while Qassanda and Ralof climbed off to attack the barrier and open the gate. All the while, arrows clattered around them, a few even sounded like they hit flesh.

The doors swung open and Qassanda could hear the soldiers begin to march. Yolah roared again and she heard Ralof yell and suddenly she was on the ground, Ralof atop her.

"Archers!" he hissed in explanation, and Qassanda nodded once and rolled away, drawing her sword and helping to hold off the Imperials and guards until she heard a booming shout which she knew didn't come from Yolah.

"Fus…RO!"

Waves of enemies blew back and Qassanda felt rather than saw the mountain of a Jarl run past her with his war axe drawn.

Chaos ensued.

An ocean of blue clashed with an ocean of brown and red, steel ringing, screams calling, and three different voices all imbued with the Thu'um throwing shouts at the Imperials.

Qassanda's head whipped around as she ran a guard through, running towards Ralof's bellow of pain. She found him writhing on the ground, an arrow protruding from his throat and blood coating his chest.

Unable to do much else, Qassanda simply watched in horror, in that moment completely oblivious to the battle raging around her, as her friend and comrade choked to death on his own blood.

Qassanda knelt and closed his bright blue eyes with her fingers, touching the amulet of Talos hanging around his neck once before storming towards an Imperial and unleashing her shout.

"Yol!" By the time he had hit the ground, his body was an unrecognisable mass of burnt flesh. Qassanda's sword quickly found another woman's throat and a head rolled along the ground at her feet.

Spotting Ulfric in the fray and darting after his huge form, Qassanda blocked a blow with her sword, kicked the guard in the gut and ran him through easily.

Ducking under another blade, Qassanda swiped at her opponent's legs, and as he fell, drove her sword through his throat. She looked up as Yolah roared, which caused Stormcloaks to duck for cover before fire bathed the ground in searing heat and blinding light, decimating Imperial numbers.

Qassanda flicked to Ulfric's side and shouted at another Imperial, sending him flying and following the Jarl towards the Castle dour, where Tullius awaited.

Pulling her sword out of another corpse, Qassanda took a moment to admire Ulfric's fighting. It seemed as if he had earned the name 'The Bear of Markarth' with the heavy swings of his axe and relentless, unceasing attacks upon his prey. He finished by cleaving his war axe into the Imperial's skull and tugging it out to continue on his way to the castle dour.

Qassanda darted around Ulfric, many falling to her blade, and by the time they reached the door to the castle dour, no blade was visible of her sword, as it was coated so heavily in blood.

Ulfric entered first, and Qassanda followed, suddenly spotting Galmar, who had followed them the whole time and was splashed in blood.

"Secure the door," Ulfric commanded. Galmar stood at his side.

"Already done."

The warriors entered the war room, where Tullius sat on a bench, hunched over, defeated, behind the woman in officer armour.

"Ulfric. Stop," the woman sighed. Ulfric squeezed his war axe.

"Stop what? Taking Skyrim back from those who'd leave her to rot?"

The Imperial officer stepped forwards and spoke familiarly with the Jarl.

"You're wrong, Ulfric. We need the Empire. Without it Skyrim will assuredly fall to the Dominion," she said. Galmar spoke as well, as if he knew her like an old friend who had turned away from him.

"You were there with us. You saw it. The day the Empire signed that damn treaty was the day the Empire died."

"You're a damn fool," the officer hissed. Galmar came to stand right in front of her.

"Stand aside woman. We've come for the General," he growled. The officer looked respectfully at Tullius.

"He has given up," she said, "but I have not."

"Rikke. Go," Ulfric said softly, almost pleadingly, "you're free to leave."

The officer named Rikke scowled at Ulfric.

"I'm also free to stay and fight for what I believe in," she spat. Ulfric simply watched her.

"You're also free to die for it."

"This is what you wanted? Shield brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart? This is the Skyrim you want?!" she drew her sword, and pointed it at the Jarl. "Because that's not the Skyrim I want to live in."

Qassanda edged closer with her own sword ready to protect her lover as he spoke.

"Rikke. You don't have to do this."

Rikke shook her head.

"You've left me no choice…" she watched Ulfric draw his axe and her voice dropped to a whisper, "Talos preserve us."

Galmar gave the first blow, hitting Rikke directly in the chestplate with his axe and forcing her to stumble back.

Qassanda set her sights on Tullius, who had gotten up and drawn his sword. Her sword clashed with his several times, and he even managed to get his sword across Ulfric's chest in between blows. It was eventually Qassanda's deadly swipe to Tullius' left leg which brought him to his knees.

"Enough…enough…" he gasped, looking across the room at Rikke's lifeless body. Ulfric stood above Tullius, staring down with distain.

"This is it for you. Any last words before I send you to Oblivion?"

Tullius looked back up, his eyes flickering between the three warriors.

"You realize this is exactly what they wanted."

"What who wanted?" Galmar growled.

"The Thalmor," the General muttered, "they stirred up trouble here. Forced us to divert needed resources and throw away good soldiers quelling this rebellion."

Ulfric's voice was bitterly amused.

"It's a little more than a rebellion, don't you think?"

"We aren't the bad guys, you know," Tullius grunted. Ulfric huffed.

"Maybe not, but you certainly aren't the good guys."

Tullius chuckled weakly.

"Perhaps you're right. But then what does that make you?"

"You just said it yourself," said the Jarl. Galmar seemed to growl under his breath.

"It makes us right."

"And if I surrender?"

This caused Ulfric to scowl heavily.

"The Empire I remember never surrendered," he spat.

"That Empire is dead. And so are you," Galmar growled at Tullius, the General looked down and appeared to relax.

"So be it."

Galmar shot Ulfric a look.

"Just kill him and let's be done with it already."

Ulfric smirked bitterly.

"Come, Galmar. Where's your sense of the dramatic moment?" he asked. Galmar sighed in exasperation.

"By the gods! If it's a good ending to some damn story you're after – perhaps the Dragonborn should be the one to do it."

Ulfric looked at Qassanda.

"Good point. What say you, Qassanda? Do you wish to have the final blow?"

Qassanda looked down at Tullius and felt her hatred surge.

"It would be my pleasure." She fingered the hilt of her blade and gestured Tullius up.

"Get up, Tullius. Face your death as a man."

Tullius pulled himself up and leaned against his wall on his one working leg. He stared Qassanda in the eyes calmly as she swung her sword and cleanly decapitated him.

Utter silence followed for a time before Ulfric spoke.

"I suppose some kind of speech is in order."

Galmar sheathed his battleaxe.

"I'll go gather the men in the courtyard."

"And Elisif?"

Galmar smirked.

"Don't you worry about her. I've sent my best men to round her up," he said before leaving. Ulfric turned to Qassanda and she wordlessly looked back at him as he spoke.

"Now then. The men will expect a speech. Will you stand at my side? I wish to honour you, as my Dragonborn, and as the truest of Stormcloaks."

Qassanda smiled at him and nodded slowly.

"Of course, my love."

Ulfric wrapped his arm around her waist and walked with her, towards the door.

"Come, the people await us."