That day marked the end of their short-lived peace.
"Galmar," Ulfric barked, standing up from his throne as he crumbled the letter until it completely disappeared within his fist. "Send a unit of fifty to the border. I want scouts at every post and every fort. If the Dominion is planning an attack, Skyrim needs to be ready." Galmar nodded and headed off to heed his commands. Ulfric turned to his steward. "Jorleif, start sending word to the Jarls. Tell them to warn their people and encourage them to join the militia if not the army."
"Would that not evoke panic?" said Jorleif.
"Damn it, Jorleif, do not argue with me right now." Ulfric growled. "The people need to be panicked if the Dominion is coming."
"As you say, sir." The steward bowed and hurried off to do his job.
"What of me? There has to be something I can do," input Thorunn.
She could tell Ulfric was having trouble gathering his thoughts. "Question the Imperial dogs we have in the cellars, see if any of them are sending intel back to the elves. I doubt that's the case but even so." He started walking towards the staircase. "I must alert the people of Solitude. Be-"
He never made it down the stairs. Beyond the walls of the palace, screaming could be heard, muffled by a series of thunderous crashes. Thorunn's heart jumped. Ulfric looked back at her. All he did was nod, and she was sprinting towards the armory to prepare. They had only moments before their enemies would be at the gates.
From within the armory, she could hear Galmar's shouts coming from downstairs. "Talos damn it, Ulfric! The elves outnumber us ten to one!"
"Fear not, Galmar. We can do this." came Ulfric's reply, calm and deliberate. Always calm and deliberate.
Thorunn's fingers fumbled at the buckles of her breastplate. She'd chosen her Stormcloak Commander armor- the best set she owned. The silver plate covered her from her neck to her toes and a gilded tasset hooked around her waist, a dark blue toga accented with gold draping over her shoulder and tucking into the tasset. There was no mistaking her for anything but a Stormcloak. She would have it no other way.
She wielded an axe made from Dragonbone and a shield of the same make. She grabbed her helmet- silver as well, crested with the bear of Eastmarch -and headed back into the throne room. Below, a good twenty guards were stationed at the door with their swords drawn, waiting for the inevitable crash at the door.
Thorunn turned to Ulfric. "We cannot just stand by while the city burns," she said.
"It was already burned before we even knew of it, Thorunn. All we can do is wait."
Her anger rose. "No true king waits to be burned. We need to get out there, now." If they were pinned down, they would have no hope of victory.
She knew she struck a nerve when he rounded on her. "You question my crown? At a time like this?" he demanded with his stentorian voice.
"I'll question any crown that sits idly by while his city is in flames," she snarled. Impatiently, she turned to the staircase and started to head down. "I'm going out there. You can join me or not, but keep in mind that your choice will define your worth." Without waiting for a response, she turned and marched down the staircase, then shoved her way through the guards.
All she could do was hope he would fall in line, but that was unlikely now that she'd put him on the spot. Ulfric's weakness rested in his fear of losing control. He was too prideful to admit his wrongs, and they'd learn tonight how critical that can be. She heard Galmar pick up where she left off with the argument, but she wasn't sticking around to listen. Rayya fell into step at her side.
"Don't open those, Stormblade!" one of the guards shouted as she and the Redguard neared the doors.
She opened them.
The scene beyond those doors was horrendous. Flames licked the walls, dancing vigilantly amidst the make-shift barricades the guards had put up in their haste. Bodies blackened with fatal burns inflicted by the battle mages of the Dominion plagued the streets. It was impossible to walk five feet without coming across another body.
"Dragonborn, wait!" someone called from behind her. She hadn't got two feet from the palace. She turned, finding Thongvor Silver-Blood with his blade drawn and his housecarl at his side. "I want to join you!"
She hesitated. This was a Jarl and the only one they had that was viable for Markarth. You're the only Dragonborn, she reminded herself. "Come on, then," she said, ushering him forth.
The Jarl of Markarth rushed to catch up with her and she continued down the winding path, Rayya at her side. A dirty woman ran past them cradling a babe to her chest, whimpering prayers to the Nine. "Talos guide you," Thorunn murmured, unable to do more than that.
The moment she turned the corner is when she walked into the thick of battle. She risked a look over her shoulder to see if Ulfric had come to his senses. Predictably, he hadn't, and the only person behind her was Thongvor. She whipped her head back around while Thongvor and Yngvar the Singer charged. They disappeared into the bowels of clashing Stormcloaks and Thalmor elves.
"You made the right choice," said Rayya.
"I know," Thorunn replied, then she, too, charged into battle.
Her blade found the gullet of the first elf she approached. Her shield remained positioned over her midsection, protecting the child within from harm. A guttural noise left the Altmer's body as she yanked her sword free and his body fell lifelessly to the sea of bodies at their feet. Just another number, Thorunn thought. There would be many more numbers to come.
A battle mage readying a ball of fire at the palm of her hand had her back turned to Thorunn. She didn't waste the advantage, coming up from behind and yanking the mage's head back to slit her throat. The Stormcloak soldier the elf had been aiming at breathed a sigh of relief, but neither he nor Thorunn stood on ceremony, swiftly moving to the next target, of which there was no shortage of.
Thorunn sized up her surroundings. If she used the Voice, three Stormcloaks would be caught in the blast, but seven more would be saved and six Thalmor soldiers would be taken down. One of the three Stormcloaks barring her aim had their helmet off. She recognized the soldier as Kemaan, an enraged snarl on his face as he reeled the flame-engulfed hand of an elf.
Thorunn decided against using the Voice for now. She rushed to his aid, bashing her shield this way and that to clear a path through the Aldmeri soldiers. She'd come back to them later. "Cavalry has arrived!" she shouted as she hammered her Dragonbone shield into the side of the elf attacking Kemaan.
"About time!" he called back, capitalizing on Thorunn's distraction and thrusting his broadsword into the stumbling elf's gut. "Where's the king?"
She didn't know how to answer that. She narrowly avoided being pulverized by a fire ball, sensing the heat reeling her way and dodging just in time. "Not here!" she told Kemaan, bringing her sword up with her as she recovered to take out an elf trying to bank on her stumble. Her sword slid cleanly across the tender flesh of the elf's neck. His blood splattered her face and he went down without further resistance.
She straightened. Ahead of her, Thongvor was fighting alongside his housecarl against a pair of elven soldiers. Their gold and red gilded armor gleamed in the flames engulfing the city. Thorunn glanced around for Rayya, spotting the Redguard rapidly slashing her scimitars through the air in a power attack against her foe.
Thorunn whirled, shield clobbering two elves at once. Their fall revealed a Stormcloak soldier getting his head bashed in with the hilt of a two-handed greatsword. He was already lost; there was nothing Thorunn could do now to save him, and she learned a long time ago that she could not save everyone. She returned to her daggers, dashing her blade across the neck of one and bashing her shield into the face of the other.
She felt something ram her back and stumbled forth. There was an elf wielding a sword-and-shield at her back, and when she turned, he was readying his rapter for the plummet into life. She latched onto her shield with all her might and brought it up to meet the blade, making it one of the most narrow misses of her life. The sword walloped onto her shield but its steel was no match for her Dragonbone. The sword severed in half.
Grinning, Thorunn dispatched her sword and eliminated the unsuspecting elf. She got back to her feet, knowing what she must do as she watched Stormcloak after Stormcloak fall before her. They were growing tired, losing hope and energy alike.
She reached out to the skies, drawing unimaginable power from the astral plane and projecting it into her Thu'um. "Mid, Vur, Shaan!" The Voice was sharp and swift, seeking out her allies and reaching their exhausting arms to uplift them. All around, elves fell before her as the Stormcloaks' Battle Fury wreaked havoc. Thorunn picked off what she had to, which was very few; the Stormcloaks cut through the Dominion as if they were little more than corn stocks, turning the battle to their favor. Now all they had to do was keep that favor was the power of the Voice wore off.
Thorunn kept glancing around in hopes of spotting Ulfric, but to no avail. He had made his choice.
"Dragonborn!" someone called.
She knew better than to fall for that. She kept fighting, holding her own against one of the Dominion's battle mages. Why did they have so many damned mages?
"Dragonborn, they've breached the castle!" the someone from before bellowed.
She ruptured the elf's collarbone by sinking her sword hilt-deep into it. She placed a foot on the elf's chest as he fell and yanked her sword free, then whirled around to face the voice. That was why Ulfric was not here, then, she concluded. She hated to say it but she was never more relieved. He hadn't made the conscious decision to not help his people.
"How!" she yelled.
"Through the prisons!"
Her heart sank. Altair was either dead or about to be. She shoved past Stormcloak and Thalmor alike, abandoning the heat of battle to make her way to the prisons. She had to mow down several Thalmor along the way. They were swiftly dealt with in her fury-fueled haste. The door to the prisons was on the side of the Blue Palace, and three Thalmor soldiers stood positioned outside of it with their swords drawn and Stormcloak bodies at their feet.
She didn't hesitate this time. "Yol, Toor, Shul!" she Shouted, inhaling air and exhaling fire. The elves realized they were doomed too late. They shrieked and struggled as flames enveloped their bodies, and Thorunn walked right past them into the dungeons, leaving them to their fate.
Nothing could have prepared her for what she found waiting for her inside. At least ten bodies in gold elven armor pooled at the ground, and standing in the middle of them was a slender man in nothing but rags and blood. A dagger drenched and dripping with blood was in his hand.
"They tried to kill me," was all Altair offered. He even shrugged.
Thorunn's sob was half a laugh. "Thank the Nine," she breathed.
"Yes, well, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to drop my weapons," he said. "To be clear, I didn't have it on me. I took it off this generous fellow's corpse after I strangled him." He nudged one of the bodies with his bare foot.
"You took down ten of these guys by yourself," Thorunn said, taking a step forward. It was clear to her now that if this man wanted to escape, if he thought for a second that he didn't deserve justice, he could have done so and left a trail of corpses behind him. "The last thing I will say to you in a moment like this is to put your weapon down. Will you aid me in picking off the rest of these milk-drinkers?"
Altair grinned. A drop of blood fell from his lip. "I'd like nothing more, but these rags aren't exactly fit for battle."
Thorunn looked down at the sea of armored bodies.
His grin dropped. "You want me to... oh, gross."
"Sorry. It's the best we can do for now."
He sighed, clenching his jaw. "Fine, fine. Give me a moment and I'll be ready."
She gave him that moment, and he jingled and clinked when he walked up beside her, as ready for battle as he would get. The armor fit him quite well, surprisingly, but that had everything to do with his already-slender figure. He was made for light armor. They promptly left the prisons to head for the main gates of the Palace.
"Thorunn," Altair said softly. His tone was so genuine and gentle in contrast to the bloodbath surrounding them. It was enough to make her stop and turn to him. He was watching her with a look she couldn't place a name to; renewal seemed appropriate. The smallest of smiles brushed his lips. "I think I've found my redemption."