I have a slightly alternative interpretation of Ondolemar here, largely based on the fact that, in-game, he does absolutely nothing if you actually complete his quest to find evidence of Talos worship. I decided to take this to mean that he is intentionally terrible at his job, which resulted in many plot points being born. Anyway, thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, you guys are awesome and I couldn't do this without you. As always, feedback on this chapter is appreciated, positive or negative. It's good to know how I'm doing, and whether I'm keeping my writing quality at an acceptable level.

Edwin paused at the entrance to Understone Keep, casting a longing glance at the city behind him. Maybe coming home had been a mistake; entering the Thalmor Embassy himself couldn't have been too bad... could it? It was too late to turn back now, though. Besides, he had more important things to ask about than a party invitation, and he wasn't likely to get a better opportunity any time soon. Even if asking meant acknowledging things he preferred not to think about.

He found Ondolemar patrolling the upper levels of the Keep, surrounded by a pair of Thalmor soldiers that made him seriously consider leaving and and trying his luck again later. The Altmer caught sight of him before he could make a decision, however, and took the choice from him by beckoning for him to come closer.

"You have the honor of addressing a member of the Thalmor. Bask in it," Ondolemar said. He wasn't much taller than Edwin, but the sneer on his face as he looked down his nose at the Nord was enough to make him feel small as an ant. "Is there a reason you came here today?"

"Um... yes. I have evidence of Talos worship..." Edwin replied, hoping he sounded less confused than he felt. He had no idea when his life had begun revolving more around his ability to lie than acting honorably, but he wished he could go back to the way things used to be. Everything was easier when he could just be direct with people.

"Excellent." Ondolemar turned to his guards. "You are dismissed. I will be in my quarters, should my presence be required for anything." And with that, Edwin was whisked off to a small, but well-appointed chamber deep within the Keep's walls. A large, four-poster bed occupied most of the wall nearest the door, with a desk covered in papers and what appeared to be a half-eaten sweetroll positioned against the opposite wall.

"So," the Altmer began, smiling warmly as he gestured to the only chair in the room as he seated himself on the bed. "What brings you here today?"

"I, um... need to ask a favor of you..." Edwin replied. He never could get used to the abrupt changes on demeanor that came along with any interaction with Ondolemar. Or at least, every interaction since he'd reached adulthood. Even after knowing it was only an act for years, his air of smug superiority always seemed so genuine...

"What do you need?"

"Do you think you could get someone into the next party at the Thalmor Embassy?"

Ondolemar looked at him as though he'd grown a second head, eyebrows raised higher than was at all natural. "Whatever for?"

"It's a bit of a long story..."

"I have time."

Edwin took a deep breath, then launched into a retelling of all that had happened since that fateful day in Helgen. Ondolemar seemed to twitch every time he mentioned Marcel's role in their adventures, but the Nord was certain he must have been seeing things; he'd known the Altmer since he was a child, and in all that time he'd never seen Ondolemar so much as flinch. "So, we're hoping that the Thalmor know something about the dragons, and breaking into the Embassy is the best way to do that."

"And you intend to accomplish this by having me forge an invitation... for one of the Thalmor's most wanted fugitives?"

"Yes." Maybe this had been a bad idea...

"Do you know what he does to Thalmor agents?"

"Not exactly... I'll be sure to tell him you're off limits, if that's what you're worried about."

"Edwin, if anyone finds out what's going on, or that I'm behind this..."

"You'll make an invitation for him, then?"

Ondolemar sighed. "Yes. Just... be careful around Marcel. If he find out that you are-"

Edwin tensed. He should have known that their conversation would come to this sooner or later. "As far as he knows, Head-Smasher is my father. For all the good you've been lately, he may as well be."

Ondolemar looked as though he'd been slapped, and Edwin instantly regretted what he'd said. "I'm sorry I couldn't find your mother, Edwin... I've done all I can without drawing attention to myself, and you know what would happen to us if my superiors found out I was interested in locating a missing Nord woman."

Much as he hated to admit it, Edwin knew the Altmer was right. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, either. When his mother had gone missing while helping the other city guards fight off a band of Forsworn a few months ago he'd gone to Ondolemar for help, only to be told that, not only was Ondolemar as helpless as he was in regards to finding her, but that they'd both been lying to him his whole life. He didn't-couldn't-believe that the Altmer was his father then, and had left to join the Stormcloaks that very night, to prove to himself that it couldn't possibly be true, that he was a full Nord and a true son of Skyrim.

In the end, all he managed to do was prove how different he was from his countrymen. While his cooking skills frequently made him an object of ridicule among the other soldiers, they were also the only thing that kept him from being sent home outright due to his lack of strength. Even looking at himself in the mirror only led to him realizing that his unusual height, slight build, amber eyes, and, much as he liked to deny their existence, slightly pointed ears, all pointed to him having Altmer blood. ...It was time to stop running. If he could face a dragon, there was no reason he couldn't also face being a half-breed. "I'm sorry, too. I... shouldn't have said that."

Ondolemar smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know. I'll make you the invitation, just give me a moment."

Edwin sat in silence as the Altmer located a blank piece of parchment and composed what looked like an invitation on the desk beside him. When he was done, he folded it neatly and handed it to Edwin.

"Thank you," the Nord said, tucking the paper into his pack.

"It's the least I can do. Just promise that you will be careful."

"I promise," Edwin sighed. "Marcel is a friend; I can trust him." Attempting to defend a Dunmer's honor felt odd, to say the least, but, at that moment, it also felt right. If Marcel found out that Ondolemar was his father, he was certain that he'd understand. Or at least, he'd understand better than a Thalmor agent. And with that, he exited Ondolemar's quarters, unwilling to discuss his activities-or worse, his mother-any further. The moon was high in the sky when he left Understone Keep in favor of Markarth's streets; it was late, but hopefully not too late to find someone, anyone he knew still up and about. He needed some happier memories.

If he was lucky, Cosnach would probably be at the inn. If he was luckier still, the man would be relatively sober and not involved in a drunken confrontation with another of the inn's patrons. By the Nine, even Marcel would have made for decent company, if he was the only person available. Going back to Ondolemar wasn't an option. It would draw too much attention to them, and he wasn't ready to start having sappy, emotional, womanly conversations with the elf just yet.

His arrival at the Silver-Blood Inn, however, revealed that it was not his lucky night, unless he felt like conversing with the irritable beggar, Degaine, or the constantly bickering family that ran the inn. In the end, he decided that he'd simply try to locate his childhood friend in the morning, and made his way to his, now-empty, family home.

It wasn't a particularly large dwelling, only a step above the Warrens, really, and the months it had spent uninhabited left its interior covered in a layer of dust, but he'd missed it all the same. While the silence that filled its rooms served as a reminder that his mother had yet to be found and, if the usual state of things in Markarth was anything to go by, probably never would be, the good memories it held outweighed the bad. Exhausted, he flopped down onto his old bed, sneezing at the army of dust particles the action sent flying through the air, and settled into a deep, restful sleep.

He awoke early the next morning and, after a breakfast of a slightly stale loaf of bread he had in his pack followed by cleaning as much of the house as he could so that, with any luck, it would look better the next time he returned to the city, set out in search of Cosnach. He'd not had any contact with his old friend since leaving to join the Stormcloaks and, he remembered with the slightest twinge of regret, he hadn't exactly told the man he was leaving in the first place. It was probably time to fix that.

It was too early for Arnleif and Sons to be open, if Cosnach even still worked there, so Edwin decided to begin his search in the Warrens. Even if his friend wasn't there, odds were that someone would be able to tell Edwin where he'd gone. If they were willing to overlook the fact that he was a well-armed Nord in a city where Bretons rarely managed to rise above the poverty line, anyway.

His initial knock on Cosnach's door went unanswered, and when the silence continued after his second knock he assumed he'd need to look elsewhere. As he turned to leave, however, a sleepy voice drawled a hardly intelligible "Who is it?".

"Edwin," the Nord replied. Another silence followed his response and, if the hurried rustling noises punctuated by an occasional muffled curse, many of which in a voice too deep to belong to Cosnach, were anything to go by, he knew exactly why it had been so difficult to wake the Breton. "Isn't it a bit early to be dragging conquests home with you?"

"He decided to stay the night; it isn't that strange."

"Should I come back another time, then?" Granted, Edwin wasn't entirely sure when 'another time' would be given the current state of his life, but anything was better than making his current situation any more awkward than it already was.

After a brief, muffled conversation Cosnach replied, "No, now is fine."

"All right... Can I stop talking to your door, then?"

"Yeah, that's probably for the best." A moment later, the elaborately engraved, if somewhat dirty and battered door, swung open to reveal a rumpled, but at least mostly clothed, Cosnach. Either he'd gotten shorter, or Edwin had grown again since the last time they'd seen each other. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine." Edwin paused for a moment before entering the room, not entirely certain that he wanted to make the acquaintance of whoever the Breton had in there with him, but ultimately decided that it was too late to turn back and followed the man into his home. Had he known the sight that awaited him, he probably would have chosen differently.

After a painfully awkward silence that seemed to stretch on forever, Marcel, more neatly dressed than Cosnach but sporting an impressive amount of straw in his hair that somehow left him looking more disheveled, said, "Well, at least I don't have to introduce the two of you now..." If nothing else, he had the decency to blush and stare intently at the dirt floor.

"What?" Edwin didn't have the slightest idea why the Dunmer had felt as though he'd need to introduce him to Cosnach; they clearly weren't considering marriage at that point. Maybe it was just something people in Cyrodiil did.

"He's coming adventuring with us... Assuming that's all right with you. We could use a pair of extra hands."

"C'mon Ed, it'll be fun," Cosnach said, tugging on his ponytail. "I can't let my little brother go adventuring all by himself, can I?"

"...Brother?" Marcel's face contorted into an expression somewhere between confusion and horror.

"Not by blood. We were close as children, and Cosnach stayed with my mother and I so often that he felt more like a sibling than a friend," Edwin replied. His answer seemed to soothe the Dunmer's concern, as he let out an audible sigh of relief and his face returned to a more neutral expression.

"Should I leave you two to catch up, then? We should probably replenish our supplies before leaving the city."

"If you wouldn't mind. Just be careful of the meat here; I wouldn't trust anything but the chicken." It was probably nothing, but stories of 'beef' turning out to be anything but had been going around the city when he left, and Edwin had no desire to find out if they were true.

"Will do," Marcel replied, clearly willing to simply accept Edwin's word. "Do either of you know where to find an alchemist in this city? We could use some more potions now that there's another person in our party."

"You'll probably want to try The Hag's Cure. It's on the upper level of the city, next to the Jarl's palace," Cosnach said.

"Thanks." After pulling the Breton in for a brief kiss, Marcel left the room, and Edwin realized that he was going to have a lot to adjust to.

"So... I see you've met Marcel," the Nord said.

"Yeah... I kinda picked a fight with him last night, and one thing led to another..."

"You were drunk, weren't you?"

"Maybe."

Edwin sighed. "Coz, you know what's going to happen if the guards catch you fighting again..."

"Like I have anything better to do. Damn Forsworn attack every shipment that comes in, so I don't have any work to do. All I can do is drink, and I gotta pay for that somehow."

Edwin cringed. Cosnach had always been a bit overly fond of his mead, but things had clearly grown worse since he'd left. Getting away from the city for a while would probably be good for him. He just wished he'd thought of that himself. "I just don't want to see you thrown in Cidhna Mine, all right?"

"I know... I should've just found myself someone to keep me in line while you were away, huh?" Cosnach sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "It would've been a bit less lonely, at least."

"...You could have stayed at the house, you know. You have a key."

"It just wouldn't have felt right. Besides, you're back now, and that's what matters."

"It is. At least adventuring will give you something to do, right?"

"It better. Maybe we'll get to see a dragon or two, if they're really coming back."

"They are."

"Really? So you've seen one?"

"I have. It turns out, I'm the Dragonborn..."

Cosnach just stared at him for a moment then, once it was clear Edwin hadn't been trying to make a joke of some kind, clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "See? I told you you'd get stronger someday!"

Edwin smiled. After everything that had happened, at least Cosnach hadn't changed. Everyone else may have seen him as a hero or been terrified byhis ability to Shout, but it was good to know that the Breton would always see him as a friend and brother. "It's good to see you again, Coz. I'm glad you're coming with us."

"Me, too. ...Me being with Marcel isn't going to bother you, right?"

It was Edwin's turn to be silent for a moment, as he tried to reconcile the sheer awkwardness of finding his closest friend in bed with... what was probably his second-closest friend, really, with the hopeful, almost pleading expression on Cosnach's face. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the idea of them... together, let alone like it, but he wasn't against the idea, either. As long as they were both happy, he supposed it wasn't really his business in the first place. "It's fine. Just try not to make too much noise."

The force behind Cosnach's ensuing hug and the happiness in his voice as he thanked Edwin were more than enough to convince him that he'd done the right thing.