The Battle of Whiterun

                       Prologue: The Battle of Whiterun

The thunder came and went, rolling from cloud to earth and back again.  Lightning stretched and struck as the two great armies stopped.  Rain began to fall in torrents on the men and women of the field.  
Zayfric Stormcloak stood at the head of the Imperial column, his Imperial armor glinting against the flashes of lightning.  His duel dwarven swords were still sheathed.  Their golden blades a contrast to the silver and red he bore upon his chest.  He had been awaiting this day for some months now. The chance to put his brother in his place.  To rid Skyrim's people of its greatest threat.  The so-called true High King.  Ulfric was manipulative, playing on the fears of the Nords and their hatred of the Aldmeri Dominion.  Zayfric agreed with his brother in the aspect that they should be able to worship whoever they pleased.  And the High Elves that were the Aldmeri Dominion had taken their God away.  But Ulfric could not lead a war against the Aldmeri Dominion if his army was left weakened by the conflict with the Imperials.  Hence why Zayfric had sided with the Empire instead of his brother.  The Imperial Legion was the only one in all of Tamriel that stood a chance against the Aldmeri Dominion.
Zayfric looked upon his brother across the soon to be bloodied field of battle.  He was standing there in his armor, a war axe in hand.  His cold stare boring into Zayfric.  The battle for Whiterun had been a success for the Imperials.  They had successfully defended the city from the Stormcloak Army.  Driving them away from the city and to the north.  Zayfric saw the opportunity to destroy his brother and his army.  So he convinced Jarl Balgruf the Greater, Lord of Whiterun to rally his men and give chase to Ulfric and the Stormcloaks.  Now here they stand two brothers of the same house, on opposite sides of a conflict.  Both fighting for a cause they would die for.
Zayfric drew his swords, spinning them in his hands.  Balgruf was by his side, as was the Imperial Legate Rikke.  A Nord woman who had risen in the ranks of the Imperial Legion.  Zayfric watched his brother, their eyes met, and he raised his swords into the air.  “CHARGE!!!”  Zayfric threw his arms forward as he sprinted at the head of the column.  His brother gave a battle-cry in return and the two massive bodies of men and women stormed across the plain at each other.  Their combined footfalls louder than those of the thunder above them.
Zayfric swung his sword hard for Ulfric's head as the battle broke loose, and the two brothers began a battle that would go down as legend.