The sounds of battle were nearly imperceptible over the frantic beating of Svala's heart. Warm blood sprayed her in the face, and she was vaguely aware of an arrow sticking out of her thigh. Still, she continued forward, swinging her axe gracefully as she sliced Imperials in two.

Truth be told, it was the first battle of this magnitude Svala had ever fought in. She was used to the odd melee with bandits, something that she had been indoctrinated to in her younger years, and of course was familiar with cutting down a small gathering of necromancers or vampires. But full on war? She couldn't rightfully say this was something she had ever experienced before. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying at once.

"We need to get that drawbridge down!" Galmar shouted as he buried his axe in the skull of the Imperial soldier closest to him. Svala turned her attention to the top of the drawbridge, where the control mechanisms were located; there were archers crawling everywhere. To try and take them head on would be suicide. Luckily for her, she was the Dragonborn.

"Fus Ro Dah!" She shouted, calling the power of her thu'um into her throat. A gust of force knocked the drawbridge open, sending bits of splintered wood flying and the Imperial archers from their perch. Her eyes connected with Galmar's; she was pleased to see the dumbfounded expression on his old face. She was about to goad him into saying something when she felt the sharp kiss of metal along her side. With a snarl, Svala whirled, throwing the dagger she kept sheathed on her thigh through the air. It met it's mark, landing home in the right eye of an Imperial. He groaned once before falling dead.

Galmar nodded curtly at her before barking, "Into the city! We take Dragonreach!" She didn't need telling twice; she sprinted ahead with a group of comrades, cutting through 3 members of the Whiterun guard. As more guard members saw her and her small battalion approach, they fell into a heap on the ground, shielding their heads. "We yield! We yield!"

"Pathetic," spat the Stormcloak on her right as he removed the head of one. "There is no place for cowards in Sovngarde."

"They yield!" Svala cried, grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to meet her eyes. "They're no longer a threat!" Surprise and anger flashed across the soldier's face before he nodded once. Clearly he knew who she was, and knew that challenging her would be futile. She let him continue on ahead, her gaze flickering to Breezehome behind her. Lydia was inside with the door barred, Svala hoped. She had told her to do so right after Balgruuf had returned Ulfric's axe to her- she knew it would mean a declaration of war and did not want to see her only friend hurt in the crossfire. Still, Lydia was stubborn and had demanded she fight with her, regardless of her housecarl's own neutrality in the war. She didn't want any of her more...zealous comrades paying Lydia a visit.

Before she knew it, she was within the threshold of Dragonreach. She could hear Irileth and Avenicci urging Balgruuf not to fight, but of course, stubborn Nord that he was, his sword was already unsheathed and waiting. "Ulfric wants him alive," Galmar had appeared on her right, when Svala couldn't say, and she nodded grimly at him. She wouldn't enjoy killing Balgruuf, the man had given her a fresh start after Helgen, but unbeknownst to Galmar (and Ulfric for that matter) she wouldn't hesitate if it meant her life.

With a war cry, Galmar rushed forward and Irileth met him halfway, stunning him with a rush of lightning. Seeing Trearil in her mind, Svala roared and sliced Irileth at the calf, severing her hamstring. The dunmer fell to the ground with a cry of pain, whirling around to shoot a torrent of flames at Svala's face. She ducked and rolled to the side quickly, narrowly avoiding the fire- she could feel the heat of the flames scorching her ear. Fighting herself, she saw Galmar on his feet once more, locked in combat with Balgruuf. The Jarl was putting up a hell of a fight, and she could see (even from a distance) that Galmar was tiring himself out. She needed to help the old bastard.

Almost silently, Svala sprinted forward swinging her axe at Balgruuf's head. The blonde Nord let out a cry as the steel of her axe connected with the gold of his circlet, sparing him. "Dragonborn! Thane! Stop this nonsense!" He shouted at her, even as he turned to attack her in kind. "Your Jarl commands you!"

For a moment, an almost imperceptible moment, Svala paused. She was reminded of her last interaction with Ulfric, how he had asked for her opinion, her name, and offered her his thanks. Thinking back, she wasn't sure that Jarl Balgruuf had ever called her anything other than Dragonborn. He had thanked her, of course, for slaying the dragon for him, but it lacked...sincerity. She could see that now. Svala glowered at him, knocking him off balance with a swift kick to the ankle before raising her axe to his throat. "What is my name, my Jarl?" She asked mockingly.

"What...I-what?" Balgruuf sputtered, his eyes widening in both surprise and fear. "Dragonborn I-"

"My name!" Svala cried, the grip on her axe pommel tightening. Galmar was behind her now, placing a hand on her shoulder in warning. The rage was over taking her. She was beginning to lose control. "I'll give you a hint- it's not Dragonborn."

Balgruuf looked to Galmar for help. Seemingly finding none, the disgraced Jarl shouted, "Alright! Alright. I surrender. I surrender." Her axe did not waver from its location against his neck. She could see beads of blood welling up against the cold steel. "Didn't you hear me? I yield!"

"Unblooded," Galmar warned her quietly. "Let him go now. We've won. It's over."

"You used me!" Svala shouted, unsure where this sudden rage was coming from. Hadn't only moments ago she had reminded her comrade that killing a foe in surrender was unnecessary? Yet here she was, about to sever Balgruuf's head from his shoulders without a care. "You don't deserve Sovngarde," she decided, slowly lowering the axe and punctuating her sentence by spitting in the former Jarl's face. "You're only a coward who sends other people to do his dirty work for him. You're nothing." Slowly, Svala's wits returned to her. The adrenaline left her body in a whoosh, leaving her weary and aching. She could suddenly feel every injury, in full, that she had sustained from battle. Her fight was gone. "I need air," she told Galmar before turning to make her leave from the palace.