The flight back to Windhelm was nothing like the flight to Skuldafn. There was no whooping and hollering with delight, no casual banter about her mother's life before her. There was no gazing out at her land with excitement and pride. There was nothing but pain and tears.

Odahviing had immediately bowed his head upon landing and spotting the fallen King. He asked no questions, instead lowered his head so that Leola might climb atop. He had grasped the King's body in his mighty claws, taking care not to cause his body any damage. He landed in the woods not far from Windhelm, and he softly told Leola to go and get help.

Leola knew when she went into town, her face stained with tears and her head throbbing with pain, that none of her friends would be back yet. It was the middle of the night, and it wouldn't be until tomorrow evening at the earliest that they arrived. Who could she go to? She thought of Galmar, her father's right hand man and closest friend. He would help her.

She hurried to the palace and went to Galmar's room, knocking on the door. "Galmar, I need your help, please," she said, her voice weak and quivering. It was barely any time at all before he opened the door, wearing basic trousers and a white linen shirt.

"Leola? What's the matter?" he asked, and she could hear in his voice that he was barely awake.

"It's - it's my father," she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. "You have to come, please."

"Of course, of course," he said, nodding. "I'll be out in a moment." He didn't close the door in her face, instead left it open as he went inside to put his boots and his furs on. He took only a minute or so, and Leola could see how hurried he was. She appreciated it, that he was rushing because he knew that she needed help. Within minutes, he was ready, and he closed his door behind him as he followed her out.

She led him out of the town at a quick pace, too afraid to say anything even though he was asking. When they reached Odahviing, she heard him gasp behind her, and she heard another gasp when he spotted Ulfric's body at the dragon's feet.

"My King!" Galmar said, eyeing the dragon warily.

"The dragon is a friend," Leola said quickly. "H-he helped me to bring him back here…"

Galmar nodded and then hurried to Ulfric's side, dropping to one knee beside the King's body. He felt for a pulse, but there was none. He hung his head. "My King," he breathed, and Leola approached quietly. She heard him murmuring, under his breath, a soft prayer to Talos that Ulfric's soul might live forevermore in Sovngarde. When he was done, he turned his head towards Leola. "What happened?" he asked softly, rising to his feet and stepping forward. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she burst into tears, and the old man gathered her into his arms, hugging her comfortingly.

"W-we reached the Sovngarde portal that m-mother told him about," she managed to say between sobs. "We s-sent her soul through the po-portal...and the next thing I knew he f-fell…"

That was all she needed to say - she and Galmar both knew that he could figure out the rest on his own. He held her until her crying slowed again, and then pulled back. "We'll take him back to the palace and have a grand funeral for him," he said in a gentle tone. "A funeral fit for a King. We'll lay him down beside your mother."

Leola sniffled a bit, nodding her head. "O-okay," she mumbled. "But G-Galmar...if he's gone, then...who will rule Skyrim?"

A grim look came over his face and he gazed down towards her. "You will," he replied.

"I - I will?" she asked softly, and he nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "We will likely have to call the Moot to convene - the Jarls will all choose you though, undoubtedly."

"What if they don't, though?" Leola asked softly, gazing up at him.

"The men and women running the holds of Skyrim all supported your father. Their loyalty to him was unquestionable and unwavering," he said, a certainty in his voice that Leola couldn't deny. "There is no doubt in my mind that they will all choose his daughter as Skyrim's High Queen, for there is no one better to rule than a Stormcloak." A smile came to his lips as he looked at her.

"And what if they don't want me because I am a woman?" Leola asked softly. "What if they want things to stay as they have been? With a High King on the throne of Skyrim, and not a Queen?"

"There have been many great High Queens through Skyrim's history. You've met many of the Jarls yourself, Leola," he said. "Think back to them. Do you not believe that they will choose you?"

Leola went quiet, thinking. She had met the Jarl of Riften briefly, Harrald, He had been a firm supporter of her father. Why, then, wouldn't he support her as well? The Jarl of Dawnstar, Frorkmar Banner-Torn, had an entire flock of small daughters. Leola had promised to come visit them some time and play with his girls - she'd not made it there yet, however, having been so caught up in dealing with her mother's issue. Surely those girls were enough to show their father just how capable a young woman could be - surely he'd have no issues against Leola being a woman, and he'd been so kind and respectful to her when they'd met…

Jarl Glovald Silver-Blood of Markarth was younger than Leola, and it was Ulfric himself who had pushed the young man's ascension to his great-uncle's throne. Ulfric had faith in Glovald's abilities and potential, so surely he'd treat her as her father had treated him. His young betrothed, Elienne, had also been helpful in Leola's mission, so between the two of them, that had to be a guaranteed vote. Every Jarl she thought of, she thought of how kind, respectful, and accommodating they had been. Some had even told her what an excellent Queen she might one day make.

"I believe that I will have the support of the Jarls," she said in a soft voice finally, and Galmar nodded.

"You will," he agreed. "You've had a rough day, child. You go ahead of me and get to bed. I'll handle this."

"Are you sure?" Leola asked him softly, and he nodded.

"Of course," he replied. "Go."

She was tired, after all. It was late and it had been a long, tiresome day. She'd woken up that morning in Morthal. Her father had been late meeting them and they'd found him under a magical sleep - she still didn't know what had happened there, and perhaps never would. They'd travelled all the way to Solitude to meet Aventus, and then to Meridia's statue - and then, she and her father had flown to Skuldafn Temple atop a dragon. And now, now he was gone.

She approached Odahviing, laying a soft hand on the rough scales covering his body. "Thank you for all your help," she told him. "You didn't have to help us, but you did...I appreciate it."

"Fron-kiir-brii, you are family," the dragon said, bowing his head to her. "I must go, now… good luck, Queen of Skyrim," he continued before straightening up. He backed up from her somewhat before turning around, beating his mighty wings a few times against the air before soaring away. Leola gazed after him for a few minutes before turning around. She took one last gaze at her father's body on the ground before averting her eyes, beginning back in the direction of town.