A/N: Well, I don't actually want to do another Ondolemar chapter this soon but fate (randomizer) demands it, so here it is.
By the way, this chapter is a part of a short storyline so it's not over yet. But it won't be the next chapter (as dictated by fate), so I'll mention this chapter again when the next part for this storyline comes out.
Also, to make it needlessly more complicated for no darn reason, there's two endings for this and therefore, two parts.
Oh, well.
Ondolemar walked through the streets of Markarth, accompanied by two of his personal guards.
He ignored the stares of the citizens as he strode past. It wasn't often that he'll take it upon himself to patrol the roads frequented by the commoners, preferring instead to stay at the Keep and monitor the activities of Jarl Igmund, his allies and enemies.
It is too bad that this is part of his job as dictated by the higher ups.
As he approached the Northeastern part of the city, he quickly noticed a man glaring at him out of the corner of his eye.
Ondolemar turned to face him, where the Nord kept staring at him defiantly.
Before he could issue the order, a woman had rushed up to the man and quickly dragged him away, scolding him with hushed tones.
The Thalmor Justiciar stiffly turned away, pretending that he hadn't seen anything.
"What is it, sir?" One of his guards prompted when he noticed Ondolemar's strange behaviour.
"It is nothing," he said calmly, making to leave the area. "Let's continue."
"Should we head to the temple of Talos, sir?" The other guard asked, "If there were heretics going to worship him in secret, we might be able to catch them in the act."
"No," Ondolemar answered immediately, "Any one who does that will have fled by the time we reach the temple."
"Yes sir," the guard bowed slightly.
"I will visit the mines next," Ondolemar decided, "We'll interrogate anyone who were arrested for heresy."
Which he'll expect there to be none, as if the Nords will betray one of their own for worshipping their god.
"Yes, sir," the guards said.
As he walked past the inn towards the river, a light rain had begun to fall over the city.
He sighed and pulled the hood of his robes further over his head, trying his best to shield his head from the rain.
The quicker he could make it to the dungeons, the quicker he'll confirm that no idiotic men had been thrown in the mines for praying to Talos and stupidly getting caught for it, then the faster he could get out of this rain and retreat to the relative solitude of the Keep.
Ondolemar quickened his pace, ignoring the chill that began to descend upon them with the rain that grew progressively heavier.
It had turned into a downpour by the time he reached the river.
Damn Skyrim and its bitter cold weathers.
He was about to rush right past the Warrens when he noticed a hunched over figure right by the entrance.
Ondolemar abruptly stopped in his tracks. He ignored both of his guards who crashed into each other and fell into the river while he turned to regard the figure.
The figure was a man. He was wearing yellowed rags, looking cold and wet as he half-heartedly shielded himself from the rain. The ratty clothes hung limply from his frame, revealing just how thin and miserable he looked.
Dirt covered his skin that aren't already covered by his clothes. He's not wearing any shoes, his shoulder-length hair is flat and limp. He has grown quite a thick beard.
Ondolemar was shocked to recognise him.
Rowan stumbled awkwardly over the slick rocks, muttering something to himself while Ondolemar stared at him with wide eyes.
He fell over the third time he tripped and the elf instinctively reached out for him but was too late.
Rowan hit his head on the wall as he went down, Ondolemar letting out a startled noise as he grabbed him by his arms.
They were so thin.
Rowan cast his gaze upon him when he was grabbed, his dark blue eyes mirrored Ondolemar's as he stared back in what seems to be shock.
"Rowan," Ondolemar breathed, feeling as if he's in some sort of terrible dream.
The dark haired man let out an incomprehensible noise, feebly pulling away from the elf who found that he didn't know what to do.
He lowered Rowan to the ground before letting go and the man scrambled away from him, putting as much distance between them as he could while staring back at Ondolemar as if he couldn't recognise him.
Something cracked inside him at the sight.
Ondolemar lightly rubbed at his chest, ignoring the way the rain now soaked into his clothes.
He glanced at his guards who are helping each other crawl out of the river and back at Rowan who's beginning to ignore his presence as he stared down at nothing.
An excuse formed at the tip of his tongue.
It seemed like a good thing that by the time that they returned to the Keep, Rowan was no longer wary of him.
However, Ondolemar quickly discovered that it isn't so, as Rowan no longer responded to anything that happens around him.
He had been dried off and cleaned up and is now sitting on his bed, staring into space.
He would not respond to any questions Ondolemar had for him.
The elf wondered what happened to him, to the man who he knew to be extremely cheeky and charming at the same time which turned him into this miserable visage, even less of a shadow compared to who he once was.
Ondolemar stopped trying to get him to talk after some time.
One of his guard brought some food for him from the kitchens, still as idiotically loyal as ever.
He briefly wondered how he got away with his half-assed explanation. He thought they would have more questions for the reason that he needed Rowan to be brought to his chambers instead of elsewhere.
Ondolemar carried the bowl of thin soup over to the bed, knowing that Rowan must be starving.
He didn't even pay any attention to the food.
Ondolemar tried to feed him then, not even thinking once how this action is so far beneath one of his station.
He was relieved when Rowan obediently ate when food was given to him.
He gave him some water next, not saying much himself as he did so.
Ondolemar tucked him in bed afterwards, feeling just as speechless as earlier when Rowan just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.
He did close his eyes soon after and seem to fall asleep.
Ondolemar sat at his desk, feeling more troubled than ever that he couldn't focus on his reports.
Ice periodically burst out from his fingertips, freezing part of his documents when he tried to keep his thoughts under control.
He kept his hands at the back of his chair then, chewing the inside of his cheek as he worried.
Ondolemar could hardly think about his work over the next few days.
Other than eating and sleeping, Rowan seemed to manage his other needs fine on his own.
He'd gotten questions from his men and even the Jarl but quickly made up plausible excuses for them, fleeing when they become persistent.
Ondolemar sighed as he sat by the bedside, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
He tried to get Rowan to talk again but all the man did was stare at him with a pitying look.
Why is that? Isn't he the one who's supposed to pity Rowan instead of the other way round?
Ondolemar lowered his hands and reached for the bowl of stew.
"It's time to eat, Rowan," he said softly, spooning a piece of carrot and held it out towards the other man.
Rowan blinked lazily and looked down at the spoon.
Ondolemar was beginning to worry that Rowan had retreated even further inside of himself when he suddenly spotted tears welling up in his eyes.
"Rowan?" He exclaimed, drawing his hands back.
"Why..." Rowan croaked, the first word he said.
"Why, what?" Ondolemar said urgently, keeping his tone soft as he lowered the bowl of stew. "What happened?"
"Why," Rowan sniffed, tears falling from his eyes as he ignored Ondolemar's question. "Why can't it be you?"
Ondolemar stared at him in part concern and confusion.
"Why can't I love you?"
He felt another sharp pain in his chest, this time it was like something shattered inside of him.
Ondolemar stayed still and bit his lip as he tried not to let his heartbreak show.
Rowan wept openly, burying his face in his hands and letting out loud, ugly sobs.
Ondolemar could only stare at him wordlessly, his breathing growing heavy.
"Rowan-"
"Please stop being nice to me," he muttered into his hands. "I can't handle it."
Ondolemar stared at him and slowly placed the bowl of stew down.
He left his chambers shortly after.
When the elf returned a while later, Rowan was nowhere to be found.
He searched almost everywhere, even sending his guards to look for him to no avail.
It was as if he vanished without a trace.
Ondolemar still have no idea what happened to him but he had a feeling it had something to do with a lover of his.
He sighed, sitting at his desk after a tiring day.
Apparently, it was already dawn, as he could hear the dogs outside barking for their morning meals.
Ondolemar rubbed at his temples, trying not to feel like he's falling apart.
Eventually he was tired enough to fall asleep.
When he woke, he pulled open a drawer in his desk and felt around the back of it.
He found what he was looking for and pulled out an amulet of Talos, the one he'd been keeping for a few years.
Ondolemar pocketed it and went to the Dwemer museum, somehow slipping past the guards and the visitors unnoticed.
He made it to the balcony, where the waterfall roared underneath.
Ondolemar leaned on the balcony, listening to the rushing waters beneath.
He pulled out the amulet from his pouch and stared at it while it dangled from his fingers.
Then he let it go.