Author's Note: Oblivion and the Elder Scrolls series are owned by Bethesda.
This is a continuation to Twist of Fate. If you haven't read that then you'll still be able to follow along, but I highly recommend you go and read it first. Take your time – I'll wait right here.
That being said this isn't Twist of Fate Part II – The Empire Strikes Back. This is a fluffy little piece that features the romance between two characters. So if you're in the mood for love, read on.
And this story is dedicated to the lovely and talented Kytten, whose continual campaign to have me give the High Chancellor some happiness led to the creation of this piece.
Winter's Chill
Fat flakes of snow pressed themselves against the window, their crystalline structures leaving trails of moisture as they slid down, pulled by gravity to join their brethren below. Placing one golden fingertip against the cold glass he traced the journey of a particularly large clump of snowflakes, their forms seemingly intertwined in tandem as a brave defence against the hint of warmth in the air that caused their delicate tips and lacy branches to soften into dull points.
Chill grey twilight lit up the district below, reflected by the thick blanket of sodden snow that had coated every tombstone, every monument, and every inch of ground. With a satisfied nod he turned to go. If he tarried any longer it would be too late.
Ocato glanced at his desk as he walked over to get his cloak from its resting place over the back of the tall armchair beside the fire. The stacks of parchment that had demanded his immediate attention were now on the side closest to the door, waiting to be removed by his aides. It had taken a solid week's worth of work just to get caught up but he'd made enough progress to allow time for some small personal indulgences.
As he worked the carved ivory button into the loop of thick felt at the neck of the cape he sighed gently. Much as he was pleased that he no longer shouldered the weight of the Empire alone he still hadn't gotten fully used to the new Emperor and Empress. They were both so…odd. It was a relief to send them off to continue their tour of the provinces. Their presence in the Palace always seemed to coincide with a decrease in his personal productivity.
The amount of distractions Lilia and Martin provided while in residence was rather remarkable. Between the odd assortment of visitors they frequently welcomed, the required dinners, parties, and meetings that their station demanded, and their unusual antics Ocato found it very difficult to concentrate.
Their brief sojourn in the Imperial City to mark the end of year festivities had been no exception. The Count of Skingrad had shown up again. No matter how much they seemed to trust him, Ocato was always a little wary of Janus Hassildor. The man was a vampire after all. The undead were not known for their devotion.
And that insufferable Telvanni had been present as well. Ocato wasn't overly fond of the new Imperial Battlemage. He still didn't think putting Fathis Aren in charge of the elite group of magically trained soldiers was the best of plans. Especially since he wasn't quite like any Telvanni that Ocato had met. The Dunmer laughed far too frequently for a power hungry Wizard. Though he couldn't deny the usefulness of the mer's atronachs. Currently fire elementals stalked up and down the ancient corridors of White Gold Tower. At least they provided a bit of warmth to heat the old stone walls.
Leaving a wide berth as he passed alongside one of the flaming creatures he couldn't help shaking his head when he saw the familiar arched doors leading into the Elder Council chambers. That was another thing he enjoyed – he never needed to knock before entering when the Emperor and Empress weren't home. Discovering Lilia climbing the walls while Martin watched and Fathis clutched his sides on the ground, roaring with laughter, was a spectacle that he'd never forget. Then there had been that time he'd entered to find Martin stalking around the large stone table while Lilia had been crawling around underneath it, giggling as she avoided the telekinesis spell that kept knocking over the red silk padded chairs. As soon as they'd sensed Ocato's presence Martin had immediately straightened up and Lilia had emerged from under the table in her most regal posture, her noble bearing somewhat lessened by the silence spell fading from her, the dirty smudges on her gown, and the remarkably wicked grin on her lips. He hadn't for a moment believed that she'd been searching for a dropped earring.
And the last incident would forever be burnt into his mind. A little shiver ran through Ocato as he walked outside into the Palace district that had nothing to do with winter's chill. Entering the Elder Council chambers to see them giving one another meaningful looks as they sat across from each other, the hidden message quite obvious, hadn't been the problem. The miniature fire atronach and ice elemental wrestling on the ancient and venerable table had. Because unlike what he'd first thought the magical figures hadn't actually been wrestling…
Pushing the disturbing mental images from his mind he glanced around as he entered the Arboretum. The murky cold light of that colourless time between night and day was transitioning slowly into a golden hue. The snow had stopped and as he glanced towards the east he caught a glimpse of blue sky between the thick clouds. Dawn was his favourite time of day. So many people were still asleep, the city still quiet, and he found it a perfect time for personal reflection.
Ocato slowed his pace as he walked along the path, the curve of the cobblestones barely discernible through the carpet of snow that coated the ground. Everything was outlined with white-- the jutting branches of the trees, the thin twigs of the bushes, even the few leaves that had refused to fall, clinging on disconsolately in denial of the change in seasons. The sound of the guards' footsteps as they stamped their feet, trying to keep them warm as they stood sentinel by the district gates, was barely discernible. The snow muffled the noises, allowing Ocato to imagine himself alone as he took in the sight of winter's stark beauty.
So the very loud and very indelicate sniff caught him by surprise. Looking around he noticed a figure sitting on a nearby bench, the white cloak blending into the background almost as well as a chameleon enchantment. Curious as to the identity of the owner of the pale fabric he walked closer, clearing his throat softly to warn of his approach. Ocato didn't want to startle the person.
He caught sight of a lace handkerchief being brought down from her face before he recognized Countess Umbranox. Her brown eyes, so light in colour they could almost pass for the amber eyes of a mer, were rimmed with pink. He guessed that the ruddy tone of her nose had not been caused solely by the cold.
"Good morning High Chancellor. You're up early." The polite and clipped manner in which she greeted him indicated that she didn't at all appreciate the interruption. The squared shoulders, impersonal smile, and wary eyes reinforced the impression.
"Greetings Countess Umbranox. I'd say I'm up at just the right time, as I have the good fortune of finding your pleasant company here in the Arboretum. Is Count Umbranox with you?" Ocato nodded gently at her while he asked and instantly regretted his question. She visibly stiffened in response.
"No. Count Umbranox is off visiting Dareloth. And I'd prefer you not call me Countess Umbranox. If you must call me anything, then call me Millona." The tight smile and slightly bitter words didn't surprise him. The relationship between the mysteriously returned Count of Anvil and the Countess was known not to be a particularly good one.
"Then I must insist you call me Ocato. It was very good to see you again. I should continue my walk and leave you on your own. Please forgive my interruption." Bowing slightly he turned to go, recognizing the Imperial's desire for solitude. It was something he shared.
"Wait." Millona's firm voice was both a command and a plea. Looking back he noticed her wave towards the space on the bench beside her. "Won't you join me for a moment?"
Carefully arranging the folds of his thick cloak he sat down beside her, curious as to her request. Over the past years he'd met Millona occasionally when political business had called her from Anvil to the Imperial City. She'd always been very level headed, very polite, and rather aloof. Still, Ocato found her to be one of the more engaging of Cyrodiilic nobility. Praise Auri-El that Count Terentius rarely left Bravil.
They sat in silence, both lost in thought as they watched the dawn slowly creep over them. The occasional patch of sunlight would poke through the clouds providing spotlights of illumination on the world. Ocato couldn't help smiling. The promise of another day in which to do and see and learn, the possibilities that presented themselves, was an inspiring thought. Ever since that dark day when red clouds had swathed the city in a coat of fear and the gates of Oblivion had poured forth armies of daedra, he'd come to appreciate the dawning of a new day even more. The frightening figure of Mehrunes Dagon in the midst of the Temple district was something that still occasionally intruded into his nightmares.
"It must all seem so trifling to you. The races of men with their short lives and their short-sighted ambitions." Millona's voice brought him back from his reverie and Ocato realized he'd forgotten about her as he'd drifted off into his meditations. "We must be rather inconsequential to the timeless mer."
"No. Quite the opposite, actually." He glanced over at her as he replied, curious as to what had caused her thoughts. She wasn't looking at him though. Following her line of vision he could tell that she was staring at the branches of the tree in front of her, watching as an occasional clump of snow fell from the dark wet wood. Millona didn't answer, merely smirking slightly in response.
"The races of men are fascinating to us. You are so vital, so alive, such a constant whirlwind of activity. That's why I choose to live here rather than in the Summerset Isles. I find being around you inspirational."
Millona made a sharp little noise, something that might have been called a laugh had it not been for the fact that it was bitter and devoid of all trace of amusement. Ocato remained silent, studying her as she looked up at him.
"I don't think you'd find me very inspirational. For the last eleven years I've lived my life in stasis. It's funny, isn't it? We think we want something but rarely are we satisfied when we get it." She sighed softly as her glance fell down to his neck. As she continued to speak her gloved hands came up to slide the button back into the loop. He really needed to get that fixed. His cloak was continually threatening to fall off. Too bad the Palace seamstress was always so busy tending to the Empress' wardrobe.
"I thought my life was in limbo before, but now I realize that it wasn't. This current state of indecision is far worse. If only someone could make up my mind for me." She gave the button a soft pat into place as she finished talking.
"Have you prayed for guidance?" Ocato asked softly. She just shook her head and sighed.
"No, I don't think the Gods would help me with this. After all, I prayed for eleven years to be in this situation in the first place. I played the role of the dutiful devout martyr, so busy deluding myself I forgot what it was that I was actually missing. Memory is a very malleable thing." Millona was frowning down at her gloves, her lower bottom lip stuck out in a small semblance of a pout.
"What is it that you want to happen? What does your heart tell you?"
"I don't know. I have my duties, my vows, and my honour. What sort of person would I be if I forsook those?" She was looking at him again and he noticed that her eyes weren't amber. They were soft brown, with flecks of gold highlighting the irises. He'd always found Millona rather attractive for an Imperial.
"You'd be human." He answered with a smile. Those who were not merfolk understood the value of time, the importance of seizing onto happiness whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was one of the traits he admired most about them.
So the way she glared at him as if he'd insulted her terribly was a surprise. Standing up she shook the snow off her white cloak, heedless of the flakes that fell all over him in the process.
"I'm glad you have such a high opinion of those who are not elvenkind. Not all of us are without honour or dedication or patience. I thank you for your company but I must be on my way. Good day." Millona's voice was far colder than the chill air surrounding them as she took her departure.
Sitting on the bench, brushing the snow from his robes, Ocato sighed deeply. That was one of the traits he cared for the least - their predilection for jumping to conclusions all the time. If only they could learn to curb such impulses. He'd never yet met an Altmer who'd leave a conversation in a huff. Perhaps with a few well-placed destruction spells, yes, but never in a huff.
