Battle could be heard from within the palace. The ground shook as someone- undoubtedly Ulfric -used the Voice. Thorunn stormed the gates with Altair at her side and a bloodied sword in hand.

The first thing she noticed was that there were more Stormcloak corpses than elven. She exchanged a nod with Altair, pushing down her horror, then gestured towards one set of the stairs. He took the right and she took the left, ascending the staircase into the deafening sounds of war.

At least fifteen elven soldiers were on them. Holding against them was Ulfric, Galmar, and...

Thorunn pounded her shield into an elf to clear her view. Was she seeing correctly? Balgruuf the Greater, Irileth, Bolgeir Bearclaw, and even Elisif the Fair were taking up arms against the Dominion. Elisif was, to Thorunn's surprise, dressed in strong steel armor and wielding a sword and shield. Never would Thorunn have guessed that frail woman was a shield maiden.

In her surprise, an enemy's sword dashed across her back but was thankfully caught by her armor. Thorunn spun, bashing her shield into the assailant and finishing him off with a blow to the temple.

"What is the state outside the Palace?" Ulfric yelled, duel wielding his axes against a heavy-armored elf.

"Not good," Thorunn called back. She'd forgotten she was supposed to be angry with him. "Why are we fighting alongside Imperials?"

"No choice!"

She doubted that. She continued to fight, her Dragonbone set of weapons tearing through her enemies like wet tissue paper. She actively resisted the urge to turn against the Imperials. To her malcontent, Elisif was making a stark difference. Her footwork wasn't the best, but her strength made up for it. Her housecarl, Bolgeir Bearclaw, never left her side. Altair was raking numbers as well, duel-wielding mismatched daggers he'd picked off of corpses. Thorunn could scarcely keep up with his rapid movements.

She didn't want to think about what it would mean for the Imperials when this battle was over. They could turn against Ulfric, seizing their opportunity to kill him, or they could demand compensation and start another rebellion or worse. Ulfric didn't seem to be worrying about that as he readied himself for another Shout. The unrelenting force of his Voice came out in a wave of thunder, sending several elves flying off the first floor to their deaths.

Only four elves remained and they went down faster than a bear would take down an elk. Thorunn's sword found the heart of the first one; Galmar's massive battleaxe whipped through the midsection of the second; Balgruuf knocked the third on her feet then annihilated her with a blow to the neck; and Altair snapped the neck of the fourth with his bare hands.

There was a moment of awkward silence following the last death. Stormcloak and Imperial had joined together against the forces of the Aldmeri Dominion, but now what would they do with it?

Ulfric wasn't standing for it. He made it clear, then, that it hadn't been his choice to arm the Imperials. "I want all of you back down in the cellars with your weapons gone now, or by Talos you will end."

"Let us help you take back the city, Ulfric," Elisif reasoned, lowering her sword as she stepped forward. "You cannot do this with willpower alone. Let us fight alongside you not as supporters of the Empire, but as Nords." This woman had spoke one too many political speeches.

Ulfric seemed to be battling with himself, his expression torn. "You will put down your blades the moment the last elf falls, am I clear? After that, you will not demand compensation and you will not expect a reward."

"By the Nine, Ulfric, you already have your damned crown," snapped Balgruuf, ex-Jarl of Whiterun. "There's no Empire left in Skyrim to support. This paranoia has gone on long enough and I will not raise my children within a cellar."

"Then you shouldn't have returned that axe," Galmar Stone-Fist retorted, implicating the Battle of Whiterun. Blood stained his skin and armor.

"I cannot afford rebellion." said Ulfric.

"Neither could the Empire," Elisif argued calmly.

"Enough!" Thorunn barked, annoyed. "There's a city burning out there, in case you've forgotten. Ulfric, let the damned Imperials fight with us. We can argue about morals when we don't have an army of elves at our back."

For the first time since she forced Balgruuf to his knees in order to seize his city, he looked at her with a sense of pride. Thorunn didn't value neutrality, which was the very reason she didn't feel very opposed to forcing him to step down. She never had, but she still respected Balgruuf as a man only trying to look out for his family and his city.

"Gods damn you, woman," Ulfric swore. "Fine. You lot may fight with us, but I still want those weapons dropped when the battle concludes."

"Fair enough," Elisif concurred before Balgruuf could argue.

"Come, then." Ulfric ordered, stepping over bleeding bodies to make his way to the staircase and down.

Thorunn followed at his back, Altair on her right and Galmar on her left. Her hope was that her Thu'um was pulling through for the soldiers at the square. No doubt the bulk of it would have worn off by now, but a Shout takes hours, sometimes days, for it to truly go away; for example, a charged Unrelenting Force will evoke harsh winds on the opposite side of the country. That was why the Voice could not be taken lightly, and why the Greybeards were opposed to it being used as warfare.

The Imperial supporters flanked them as they left the Blue Palace. What little remained of the castle guards remained to make sure the palace was not taken again, but there was no stopping the Dominion a second time with only ten exhausted and wounded guards to their name. All they could do was simply hope it didn't happen again.

"How did this happen?" Thorunn hissed to Ulfric as they marched. The sounds of battle were closer than they were the last time she stepped outside, indicating that the Dominion had managed to push back more soldiers.

"I was on my way to join you when the elves started pouring into the castle," Ulfric explained through gritted teeth. "I still do not think heedlessly charging into battle was the right tactic, but you were right in that a king should not be passive while his city burns." The elves came into view. A tall golden-armored figure was bringing their sword down on a Stormcloak officer. "We will discuss this later." Ulfric said, then brandished his axes.

Thorunn got the message. She separated from Ulfric to fight her own battles, taking up arms against another battle mage. Before she could reach the man, he'd readied an ice spike and hurled it in a Stormcloak's direction. The spike impaled the Stormcloak's heart, and the man went down helplessly. Thorunn pulled down the visor of her helmet as she approached. Her sword met flesh the moment she reached the elf, but the attack was not fatal.

The elf whirled, hand swirling with piercing frost magic. Thorunn didn't have time to move out of the way of the incoming hand: The Dominion soldier grabbed hold of her neck and her entire body went cold as the frost magic weaved its way through her bones. If she weren't a Nord with a natural resistance to cold, she would have died upon impact. She fell to her knees, jaw too tight to be able to cry out in pain.

Then it stopped all at once. She gasped for air as warmth refurbished her body, relief and life flushing her essence. She looked to the elf who had fallen; a glass arrow pierced his forehead right between his eyes. Thorunn looked over her shoulder, spotting the Bosmeri elf Isha smirking victoriously.

"See? I save people," she said, curtsying.

Thorunn laughed, more out of relief than anything. She got unsteadily back to her feet, still recovering from the blow she'd suffered. Her throat continued to feel the effects of the frost, but it wasn't so overwhelming that she couldn't fight. She only worried that it could have harmed the baby, despite being in the early stages of the pregnancy where harm was unlikely. She pushed past her concerns and took on a warrior, Dragonbone clashing against elven steel.

A clash, then a snap, and the elven sword was broken. Thorunn finished off her weakened target. The battle wore on and with it its soldiers, Stormcloak and Dominion alike. She hated to admit it, but if it weren't for the Imperial supporters' extra hands, they wouldn't have been able to hold off as long as they had. Ulfric sent off a scout with word to the nearby forts for reinforcements.

Thorunn defected from the battle long enough to send a unit of ten to the gates to block off any more elven reinforcements. She took a breather during this time, breathing hard as she stood with her back leaned against the archway leading to the courtyard. This section of the city was eerily vacant, but the sounds of battle were never far.

Her Stormcloak Commander armor was battered and dented from deflecting a countless amount of swords and arrows. Her shield had held up unsurprisingly well, only a few scratches blemishing the bone. Moth gro-Bagol in Markarth had crafted both the sword and the shield for her- a gift in exchange for a Daedra heart. She wondered if the Dominion had breached Markarth as well, and if so, if Moth gro-Bagol was testing his mettle against them.

They'd been fighting for hours now. Thorunn had a feeling that this was only the beginning.

She heard a frightened whimper from nearby and instinctively raised her sword, cautiously approaching the sound. She kept her eyes on all angles until she spotted the gleam of golden armor from the corner of her eye. She spun to face the gleam, finding an elf in Dominion armor crouched behind a training dummy, frightened beyond repair.

Thorunn began approaching and the elf recoiled, slamming her eyes shut and whispering fervent prayers to a pantheon Thorunn knew nothing of. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the elf couldn't be older than sixteen. She was little more than a child and she was fighting in a war.

Thorunn lowered her sword but not her guard. "What are you doing here, girl?" she demanded.

The elf shook her head quickly, keeping her eyes shut tight and continuing to pray. "Answer me or I will strike you now," Thorunn promised.

Tremulously, the girl opened her eyes, revealing a set of golden orbs sparkling with tears. "I never wanted to hurt anyone," she whispered shakily. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I didn't want this. Not this war, not this country, not here, not the blood, not anything. I just want to go home."

"How old are you?" Her tone had softened, but her sword remained ready to strike. The elves were a cunning folk and Thorunn would not be so easily fooled.

"F-Fifteen," the girl spluttered. "Please, I-I don't even know how to use this." She was holding a dagger that Thorunn had not become aware of until then. The girl tossed the weapon away from her, wanting nothing to do with it. The dagger skipped across the cobblestone ground uselessly. Thorunn noted there wasn't a single drop of blood on its length. "I just want to go home."

Thorunn sighed. What was she supposed to do with this? She looked over her shoulder as if the scenery behind her would have answers. "What's your name?" She didn't need the girl's name nor did she really want it, but she needed to keep the girl occupied while she decided what to do with her.

"Eriswe, ma'am," The girl- Eriswe -looked away. Seeing that Thorunn wasn't going to kill her, she'd calmed down considerably, but her yellow-tinted cheeks were still wet with fallen tears.

"I'm no ma'am," Thorunn told her. "Stand up and take your armor off. Any weapons you have, hand them over."

Shakily, the elf stood up and began undoing the buckles of her armor. Thorunn gestured for her to hurry up when it took her longer than fifty seconds to get her breastplate off. No weapons were to be seen, and within minutes, the girl was standing before her bare-footed in nothing but a thin under-dress. She was bony to the point of malnourished, her bones sticking out like sharp points. Most Altmer were built that way no matter how much they were fed, however.

Thorunn nodded. "Stay here and hide. I cannot afford to ensure your safety over my own people's. If you are still alive and here when the battle is over, I will find you, and we can go from there. Is that clear?"

"Clear, ma-" She caught herself. "Clear."

"Good." Thorunn picked up the glass dagger that had prior been in the girl's possession. She turned it over in her fingers, examining its make. It was finely crafted, certainly not the product of a lowly peasant. Thorunn tossed it back towards Eriswe. "Keep that. You may need it."

With that, she turned and made her way back to the thick of battle as if nothing had transpired. The Stormcloaks were now outnumbering the Dominion, at least three to one. Ulfric was at the head of them, his movements significantly slower but still efficient than they were before Thorunn had taken her break. There was a gash in his side that did nothing to slow him down. Galmar was at his side, brandishing his battleaxe like he'd just woken up from a pleasant nap.

And the Imperial supporters were all still making a difference. Ulfric would have no choice but to pay them what they're due when this was over. Before all this had happened- before as in when Alduin still stalked the skies -she would have struck these Imperials down for even suggesting they fight alongside the true sons and daughters of Skyrim. They didn't deserve such an honor. But now? Thorunn could live with their freedom.

The last elf to fall was when the sun was peering over the edges of the horizon. Undoubtedly, the Dominion had to have a presence elsewhere in Skyrim, but where they did not know. Thorunn knew the letters would be arriving by the hundreds given time. Solitude was the scene of a graveyard without dirt: Hundreds of bodies littered the streets, elves and Stormcloaks and civilians, even children and dogs and cows. The remaining soldiers worked to put out the fires and collect the corpses of their brethren. An uncountable amount of pyres would be lit today.

Slowly, as the sounds of battle came to a halt, the citizens of Solitude began peeking from their windows or cracking their doors open. They had no choice but to come out to the main square when Ulfric demanded the presence of all people for his speech.

He ascended the staircase onto the altar with Thorunn and Galmar at his sides. Behind the three were the rest of the main party: Altair, Thongvor, Rayya, Elisif, Balgruuf, their housecarls. Among the crowd below was Isha and Kemaan, but Vunthar was no where in sight.

"People of Solitude," Ulfric boomed wearily. The wound in his side was beginning to take a toll. He grabbed onto Thorunn's arm to steady himself. "The Aldmeri Dominion is here in full force. Do not fear them and never bow your knee to them. We are Nords, the sons and daughters of Skyrim, and no elf with a shiny blade can break us. But we will need your undivided support. Standing behind me are supporters of the exiled Empire, proof that men of all races and factions are welcome among us provided you prove your devotion to Skyrim.

"I beg of you, please do whatever you can to assist in the coming war. Our peace was blissful but short-lived, and we all knew that war was coming whether the Empire remained with us or not. If you cannot lend us your sword arm, any supplies, gold, or food you can donate would help immeasurably. The losses we suffered on this night were devastating, but we must make the most of our brothers' sacrifice. We must not bend."

The people were frightened. Many were sobbing against the shoulders of their loved ones. Many were angry.

"And let us not forget who warded off the Dominion on this day," Thorunn said, stepping forward. These people needed confidence in the people their protection depended on. "With Talos looming over us, the Stormcloaks defeated our persecutors valiantly with our good High King Ulfric at the forefront." In truth, it'd been Thorunn who conducted most of the battle, but these people didn't need to know that. "You must back your king now more than ever. Loyalty is the most powerful weapon."

For a moment, the only sounds audible were the quiet sobs coming from within the crowd. Then, ever so quietly, "Hail to the Stormcloaks."

"Hail to our Talos," another soft voice added.

"Hail to King Ulfric."

"Hail to the Stormcloaks." "Hail to our Talos." "Hail to King Ulfric." Before long, the words were a cacophony igniting the entire crowd, binding soldier and civilian at the seams. The crowd chanted until their confidence was mended and then chanted some more.

Thorunn looked to Ulfric. He was smiling.