Stin

Solitude

Warning: Ayla has a small panic attack during the battle of this chapter. It isn't big or severe, but if you are sensitive to that type of stuff, beware.

Bit of a longer chapter. Actually, this chapter is way longer than any other chapter. It has 5,700 words in it. I know, that's a lot, which may or may not be a bad thing to you guys. But I didn't want to split this chapter into two parts and also I will not be limiting my chapters to 2,000 words anymore (like I have been doing). Now, I have no limit on the length of my chapters so there may be chapters longer than some or vice versa. Now, enjoy the chapter!

~~~

"Tullius, this isn't going to go the way you think," Jarl Elisif mutters softly, pacing in front of her throne in the empty room. She has since dismissed her staff and guards to go home to their families and barricade themselves inside for their protection, "you've seen the two armies. Their forces outmatch ours five to one. We are going to lose,"

"Don't give up hope just yet," the General responds, bowing his head in respect towards the mourning Jarl, "we have enough supplies to wait them out should you opt for a lockdown," he pauses, licking his lips. There are a few ways they could go about this attack and he has hope that either one could work in their favor. As a sign of respect to the blonde, he has left the decision of which tactic they take to her.

Elisif shakes her head, her gaze on Solitude's throne. Skyrim's throne, "no," she says softly, her voice barely audible even with the echo in the room, "that is a cowardly way to do things," she pauses, turning towards him, "allow them in and meet them with the full force of your men. If we fall, we fall fighting like honorable men and woman,"

~

"They know we're coming," Ayla explains as she walks through the courtyard of Fort Hraggstad. She successfully captured the Fort a few days ago and has been hunkering down there during the wait for the Stormcloaks to arrive. It was a wait filled with anxiety and excitement as well as fear. There's no going back now.

Ulfric follows her, a few paces behind her, "of course they would," he responds, glancing back at where Galmar is now addressing the troops, "you, your army, plus two dragons captured their last fort and I am sure they saw my forces marching this way,"

She stops and turns back towards him, her cloak spinning around and partially wrapping around her legs, "no," she breathes out, shaking her head as she closes her eyes, trying to rid herself of the anxiety. Behind her, situated upon the walls, the black dragon shifts, making a humming sound that seems to break Ayla from her worries, "the past four days that they had to prepare, they could have brought in more aid. Like more supplies to fortify themselves from a siege. More troops, trebuchets and the like," she turns from him and walks a few steps towards the dragon, who lowers its head towards the ground, a puff of smoke leaving its nostrils.

"Do you think they requested the Thalmor's aid?" he questions her, not moving any closer to the Dragonborn out of fear of being roasted alive by the dragon. Ayla remains standing in front of it, her back towards him.

"No," she replies, not looking back at him, "if they did it was futile. Why would the Thalmor waste their soldiers fighting a losing battle?" she pauses as she turns back towards him, however her gaze doesn't meet his, "I suspect things like trebuchets to shoot at the dragons and perhaps reinforcements from Cyrodiil," there is a hint of worry in her voice but she ignores it and focuses on the forthcoming battle, "regardless, we will win. Even without the dragons, our odds are high," she adds, her head tilted upwards as she stares at the large dragon, it's blue eyes on her.

The Battle of Solitude will be an easy one with minimal casualties to her forces and the Stormcloaks. This is the last battle before they begin working on weakening the Thalmor's hold on Skyrim. A task that is more difficult than it sounds.