Chapter 15
Whereas the Midden was a dark, forbidden place to most, it now functioned as a holding cell where the College's mages were separately locked away in cages or chained to the walls. All of their wrists were bound with magic-suppressing irons.
Cirilonde was all too aware of everyone's eyes on her which showed a mixture of confusion, fear and betrayal. No one dared ask or speak, however, as the Thalmor guards had been merciless. The moment one so much as even breathed wrong, they received a harsh blow to anywhere they could hit.
Onmund rubbed his sore jaw as they had made an example out of him the moment he asked them what this was all about.
All of their heads shot up when General Thorelas descended the steps into the Midden. With a snap of his fingers at Cirilonde, the guards retrieved her from her cage. She glared at the General, who bowed mockingly before he walked ahead of her while the guards took her with them.
The sight of the College's courtyard was devastating. The statue had already been destroyed by the dragon, but the gates had been blown from its hinges and the walls were scarred by the flames and clatter of blades. Guards patrolled the walls and prevented anyone from even so much as look at the College, lest they get an arrow buried between their eyes.
Inside, she found an even larger chaos, as Taurmillan's men had torn everything apart to find what they were looking for and her heart broke as she passed the Arcaneum, where books had been thrown off the shelves and some had been burned on a pile in the Hall of Elements.
How dare he do this?! Any anger she had, however, was replaced by dread as she was brought before Taurmillan, who was in the Arch-Mage's quarters. Against her expectations, she found that nothing was touched there…yet.
Taurmillan gave Thorelas a sharp nod and he and his men left Cirilonde alone with him. The chains that kept her hands together rattled when she raised her hands. He had approached her and she feared he would strike her. Instead, he pushed her hands down and claimed her lips, pulling her against him. She submitted to his demanding touch while his fingers wound themselves into her hair and held her in place. His kiss was cold, demanding and domineering and his tongue forced itself into her mouth. A deep, almost feral growl escaped him as he tasted her. "All in time, my Cirilonde. We have the years ahead of us and I will have what I want," he purred once he had pulled away from her.
"First my brother, then you tried to have me murdered…You marched your men and attacked the College and you murdered Ancano!" Her voice shook in anger and she felt her heart break again. Ancano… "What more do you want from me? What would your father think of this?!"
"My father was foolish enough to cross me once he found out about my plans for conquest. He was the one who tried to have you killed." He held her hand against his chest. "I could never do such a thing…"
"What are you talking about?" She shuddered in the wake of his touch as his fingers trailed her neckline. "Why are you really here? These people haven't wronged you."
"Tell me, my Cirilonde, why is it you seek to protect these worthless humans?" He now looked her in the eyes, holding her face while his thumb caressed her cheek. "You plead and you beg for my mercy and declare your obedience to me, yet, you ache for that lowborn filth. I can give you all you desire, yet you won't give me what I desire."
"You have no heart." In spite of her fear, speaking her mind was punished as he took a firm hold of her throat.
"On the contrary, you shall find my heart and riches to be yours if you cease defying and displeasing me!" He hissed in a cold and menacing tone.
"I already told you, there is nothing here that holds such power!" Her eyes pleaded with him to let go as she gulped for air. "I would never lie to you…"
His grip on her throat loosened. There was a malicious glimmer in his eyes when he smirked wickedly. "If my men were to ask your…lesser associates, would they tell me the same?"
"They would tell you what they know." She averted her gaze from his cold and icy one. "The artefact was destroyed due its misuse. I vow to you that this is the truth!"
"Vow?" He let go of her and turned away, only to briefly behold the Arch-Mage's quarters. As dreary as this place was, it perhaps was an ideal location from which to start a base of operations and expand. He then glanced at her over his shoulder. From the moment he had laid eyes on her years ago, he'd been set on claiming the gentle beauty as his. She would soon forget about that lowborn filth he'd apprehended in Solitude. His unity with her would bring forth a lineage of beautiful and gifted offspring. Why would she not see his ambitions his way? Perhaps it is time I remind you of the power I hold…
"Even on the very lives of your elders?" He asked her calmly. "Your mother and father have been left in quite the delicate situation due to recent events…It would be a shame if they were to be linked to my father's…murder."
"No…Please don't tell me…" She shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand as tears formed in her eyes.
"Are you aware that they are at my mercy, my beloved Cirilonde?" She fell to her knees at his feet and buried her face in her hands, uttering 'no' repeatedly and pleaded with him. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her to look up at him. "Now, I ask you a final time…Would you make this vow on their very lives that none of this pitiful, human lot is hiding something powerful from me here?"
Auri-El…Divines. Forgive me…She averted her gaze from his in spite of the pain he inflicted on her by holding her hair. "I vow this on their lives," she croaked, choking on her sobs.
He then raised his voice. "Thorelas!"
Thorelas and his men had been waiting on the other side of the door and came to retrieve her. "How about we question my betrothed's precious little pets about the artefact. I assume you have everything prepared?"
Thorelas nodded. "But of course, my Lord Exarch."
"I'm telling you, Ancano betrayed us!" Nirya spat. The guards had left them alone to be guarded by a handful of frost, flame and storm atronachs that paced back and forth past the cages.
"Shut it, you daft cow. Didn't you hear? He's dead." Faralda couldn't quite believe she was defending him, but she had heard the exchange between Cirilonde and this…Taurmillan, though she didn't exactly understand what was going on just yet.
"Just what are they doing here?! It's gone, so what do they hope to achieve by doing all this?" Brelyna's breath came from her lips in puffs of smoke and she clung to herself in a desperate attempt to stay warm. The Labyrinth was a place of initiation for the new Arch-Mages, completely frozen over and infested with ice-wraiths and trolls. Due to Tolfdir's age, he hadn't been forced to pass the trial, but it was near where they currently were being held. The cold from the sea and Skyrim's wind from the Labyrinth had numbed their toes and fingers by now and if they were to be here for much longer, they could very well freeze to death.
"They don't care whether it's gone or not. As long as they believe something is here, they'll burn this College to the ground if they have too!" Nirya exclaimed. "If we'd just killed Ancano to begin with we wouldn't have had to deal with all this nonsense to begin with, but no, Cirilonde had to 'spare his life'."
"Back off, Nirya." Onmund snapped. "She did what she thought was right!"
"Onmund is right," J'Zhargo said. His ears were flattened on his head as he glared at the High Elf. "As bad as Ancano can be, J'Zhargo does not believe that he would betray us. J'Zhargo agrees, though, they very well may kill us."
"Let's not lose hope. All of you." Tolfdir looked at them. His legs ached from being forced to stand as he had been chained to the wall. As afraid as he was, they all were such wonderful people, young and old. Savos and Mirabelle would've been so proud of you… It was his duty to protect and prepare them, whatever may come. They wouldn't go down without a fight if that was the case. "They may have us caged and chained, but look at what we've all been through and survived. They shan't find anything. We'll figure something out, and don't forget that Ganir is still out there. He'll find a way to save us and we'll take back what is ours."
When they heard one of the hatches to the Midden open, they immediately fell silent and waited patiently. It wasn't just Cirilonde who was brought down by the guards and the general, but the man who had led the assault on the College as well. The Wood Elf assassin was at his side, also, like a malicious, blood-thirsty pet on his leash.
Tolfdir's jaw clenched and his stomach churned. Taurmillan was not just an intimidating appearance, but a strong, intense magical aura surrounded him. It explained the fear that even Cirilonde felt for him. Rather than return her to her cage, the guards held Cirilonde in place. She had been crying and now struggled to look strong. You poor girl, what did that beast do to you?!
"I hope for your friends, that your claims were correct," Taurmillan did not look at Cirilonde as he spoke in the Altmer tongue. "Perhaps we should start with the Arch-Mage and set an example…"
Cirilonde's eyes locked with Tolfdir's, begging for his forgiveness.
Talos guide me…Tolfdir straightened his back and stared the Wood Elf down who stood in front of him while the guards loosened the chains that held the old Nord in place, but the moment the tension was released and he made to step forward, the Wood Elf yanked at the chains and tripped him. He fell to the ground and to his horror, the Amulet of Talos flew from his sleeve where he had hidden it.
Thorelas unsheathed his fine, elven blade when he saw it. "No…no!" Cirilonde was held back by the guards from whom she tried to break free.
"You care for this old wretch?" Thorelas sneered as the tip of his blade picked the amulet from the ground. Sylva used the disgusting, rusted and blood-stained old chains to hold Tolfdir in his place, eager for blood, but Taurmillan shook his head. Grudgingly, she obeyed her master and glared at Cirilonde.
"It would seem that your Arch-Mage is a heretic…" Taurmillan reached for the cord and it dangled from his fingertip as he eyed it in disgust before peering down at the old Nord. He then addressed him in the common tongue, which made him sound even more harsh and disdainful. "Are you aware what we do with Talos worshippers, old man?"
"Do you honestly think a man of my age is afraid to die?" Tolfdir snarled. "Mark my words, elf. I don't know what you hope to achieve by doing this, but there will be consequences for your actions!"
"Do you even realize that you're not talking to some lowborn filth like that Ancano but to a Lord Exarch?" Taurmillan's eyes narrowed. "You should rather concern yourself with the consequences for your heretic beliefs…" With but the snap of his fingers, Tolfdir's amulet of Talos was set ablaze by Taurmillan, who then crushed it under his boot. Tolfdir trembled in pure rage, much to Taurmillan's satisfaction. "A human ascending to divinity. Preposterous."
He then looked at the pathetic lot of mages, young and old, all angry or fearful, in their cages. "Unless any one of you have something to tell me, it seems you will soon have need for a new Arch-Mage…"
"No! Leave him alone!" Brelyna bellowed. "There's nothing here!"
"You animal!" Onmund received a punch for his insult. "He's done nothing wrong!"
"You would kill him because of his beliefs? Are you so afraid of an old man, you coward?!" Faralda spat in the Altmer tongue. She too, was immediately brought to 'justice' as a guard reached through the bars of the cage and rammed her against the steel with full force. "Cowards…" she spat in spite of the pain.
"Sylva…It seems they're not convinced. Be a dear." Taurmillan didn't even flinch when the Wood Elf pulled her dagger out and slowly buried it deep inside of the old Nord's shoulder, who cried out in pure anguish while he tried to throw the Wood Elf off him. Colette cried out for mercy, Phinis swore profoundly and Drevis was so enraged he nearly threw his cage over. Brelyna was unable to bear it after pleading for mercy as well but the situation was quickly contained after a few cracks of the guards' whips. They were all forced to watch, nevertheless in silent horror, rage and fear while Tolfdir lay on the ground in pure anguish at Sylva's mercy.
"Break every bone in my body if you must, wretched scum!" Tolfdir snarled and heaved as he struggled to stay conscious but the pain was downright excruciating and black dots danced before his eyes. "You'll never break my spirit or that of my students."
"That would be far too tedious, though tempting," Taurmillan said calmly. "However, I could be merciful if you were to renounce your preposterous beliefs and tell me what powerful artefact you've hidden here and where." His cold, gray eyes scanned their reactions. They are either brave or foolish to try and thwart me. I know something is here…
"Stop it Taurmillan!" Cirilonde cried. "There is nothing here, I've told you!"
Taurmillan nodded at Sylva again, whose eyes lit up with a morbid glee as she wriggled the blade in Tolfdir's wound. The dagger's blade scraped against the bone and tore at his flesh and left him writhing and screaming on the floor he was held down against. "Monsters! ANIMALS!" He roared.
Though they wanted nothing more than help their Arch-Mage; a helpless old man, all of the mages knew that if they told anything about the Eye or Staff of Magnus, this man would no doubt do terrible things to Skyrim and the world if he got a hold of it.
"Sylva…" The Wood Elf raised her dagger to inflict another, agonizing wound on the old Nord, when a powerful, immense blast of energy blew her right away and blinded everyone in the room.
Sylva's dagger clattered on the ground and she herself was flung against the wall. Tolfdir curled up and held the bleeding, terrible wound from which the dagger still protruded.
Through the whole Midden, the voice resounded so powerful and infuriated that the walls of the College shook on its foundations. "ENOUGH!"
Cirilonde fell to her knees as a cold block of ice sank in her stomach along with her heart, shaking her head in disbelief. "No…"
Before them all, hovering over Tolfdir, was the Augur of Dunlain. Taurmillan looked over his shoulder at Cirilonde. "It seems that you have lied, my Cirilonde…"
No…What have you done?!
When Ancano's eyes fluttered open, he beheld the clear Skyrim night sky. Countless stars glittered in the darkness, accompanied by the red and golden moons, Masser and Secunda. He grew nauseated by the hobbling and wobbling motion of the horse-drawn cart he was in and in spite of the immense pain he was in, he tried to prop himself up on his elbows.
Ganir, who had been engrossed with reading through the dossiers he'd stolen from the Embassy, looked up. "Didn't expect you to wake up until we reached Markarth."
"I never expected to even survive this ordeal…" The High Elf grit his teeth and hissed from the pain. Though Ganir's potions had healed some of his wounds, some opened up again and began to bleed. He waved a dismissive hand, however, as he healed them himself. Unlike Cirilonde, however, Ancano's healing incantations were demanding and firm, nor did they mend his flesh as flawless as she could, but it would have to do for now.
"Cirilonde will be able to heal your wounds when we get back to the College, no doubt," Ganir said. He had joined the High Elf's side to help him sit up; something that neither of them would've done or tolerated in the past.
Ancano shook his head. "We can't return to the College. Not now. It's too dangerous."
"I figured that," Ganir said. "But still, why Markarth?"
Ancano was silent for a moment as he felt a terrible, hollow and gnawing feeling at his heart. He looked at Ganir. "Tell me, is Cirilonde to be wed?"
Ganir's expression was a troubled one, but also confused as to why he would ask such a thing.
"When I was apprehended, I was not alone with Elenwen," Ancano said in response to the Dark Elf's expression. "A Lord Exarch was present who claimed his pursuit of the matter with the College himself as he'd come to Skyrim to retrieve his betrothed in the first place…It has to be her."
Ganir's brow furrowed deeper. There was defeat in the High Elf's voice. "A Lord Exarch…" Ganir looked at Malborn, who had clearly been listening. He didn't trust the little Wood Elf but they had little choice for the moment but to put up with him. Ancano recognized the Wood Elf as well. "Long story," Ganir said when they met eyes. "He's taking us to Markarth. As for the Lord Exarch and Cirilonde…It's a complicated story, and how Ciri and I met in the first place."
"She's in grave danger…As is the College," Ancano shook his head. "I need to know everything."
Ganir nodded. "We have a lot to discuss to begin with. I just hope that this Ondolemar can be trusted."
"He can be, trust me." A sentence Ancano never thought either to utter to the Dark Elf before him. "And thank you. I would have been dead were it not for you."
Ganir nodded in acknowledgement to the thanks. "I came back from Kynesgrove and found that you were gone. Ciri told me she knew right away that something was up." He then proceeded to tell Ancano about Cirilonde's situation back home and how the arranged marriage to Taurmillan was meant to save her family from disgrace and possible persecution for Anciel's failure to protect a Wise. He told him about how he saved her from the Thalmor assassins, only to run into an ambush organized by the Imperials to put a stop to the Stormcloaks, followed by the dragon's attack on Helgen.
"They found out about the artefact via Estormo. I had instructed him at the time to keep an eye on you and Cirilonde…He's the one that no doubt followed you to Labyrinthian," Ancano grit his teeth. "If I hadn't neglected that possibility, none of this would have happened. And this Taurmillan…I will tear him apart."
"Not if I get my claws on him first," Ganir said. "However, how exactly do you plan to approach Ondolemar? I doubt we can just come knocking on his door."
"He's never alone," said Ancano. "After an assassination attempt, he's always accompanied by two bodyguards. You'll have to knock them out and corner him. If you manage to do that and mention a certain incident in Camlorn to him, he'll know I sent you."
"I appreciate all of your little plans and the tea-party you're having back there, but I could really use some rest and food." Malborn said to them over his shoulder. He was still angry, but he'd calmed down a bit. "And don't forget to include the part where you get me out of Skyrim before they find us."
Ganir suppressed an annoyed sigh but saw Ancano shared his sentiment. "We should be able to make camp nearby," Ganir said. "Just get off the road."
Malborn followed the Dark Elf's instructions but it wasn't as easy to guide the horse-drawn cart off the beaten path into the wilds. Yet, they managed to force their way over the dirt-road away from the main road into the forest. They hid the cart in the bushes and continued on foot to settle near the creek to make camp there. They used the furs and leathers from the cart to build a make-shift tent. Ancano leaned back against a tree stump and read the dossiers the Dark Elf had left him to read while he himself was gone to hunt.
So, these two are the last of the known Blades that are still around…He mused. But even the Thalmor don't know as to how or why the dragons have returned…Maybe they thought the College knew something...
Ancano ran a hand through his hair. He had been a loyal agent to the Thalmor for years and had always acted in the best interest of, even in regards to the Eye. It was simply far too dangerous. But despite all his efforts, he had been stripped from his ranks and had been tortured for information. Though Elenwen had called him a traitor, if anyone had been betrayed, it was he. And for what? Power? It was meaningless if it could destroy the world, something Elenwen and this Taurmillan didn't care about. Cirilonde…Conflict took a hold of him as he recalled everything that Ganir had told him. He shook his head, he didn't want to think about it now as it left him with a sour and hollow, terrible feeling.
"You should've seen the death the Dark Elf left in his wake," Malborn said darkly while poking the flames with a stick. Though Ancano had easily lit the firewood ablaze with a spell, it was another matter to keep it going. "Elenwen knew something was up when she couldn't find him…I saw what he did to them. As much as I hate them…it was gruesome…He's dangerous. And yet, he went through all that, just to get you out of there."
Ancano didn't respond to the Wood Elf. Not only did he distrust Malborn, he didn't even know how to respond. "Ganir is dangerous, yes, but I trust him. Had he not come, I would have been dead."
The Wood Elf snorted. "I hope so. If you don't get me out of Skyrim, I might as well kill myself right here and now. Elenwen was furious when she found out what had happened. I managed to get away in the chaos."
"I assure you that if you prove reliable through this ordeal, Ondolemar and I shall help you escape Skyrim." Ancano looked at Malborn. "If you fear for your life so, however, I do wonder what moved you to cooperate with the operation in the first place."
"Not like I have a lot of choice in the matter at this point, do I?" Malborn remarked bitterly. "Don't get me wrong, the Thalmor murdered my family and I believe they deserve what they got coming to them, but they will come looking for us the moment they can."
"If you spend less time complaining, we should be able to get on our way again once you've eaten." He then looked at Ancano. "We have a lot of things to discuss."
Markarth was a major city located in Skyrim's Reach in the west of the land near the border of High Rock. The city's architecture was unlike any other in Skyrim as it was housed in the remains of an ancient, Dwemer city and carved from the rock face surrounding it. The waterfalls that came from the high mountain chain's glaciers surrounding it, poured down through the city and nourished the plant life in its wake before pooling at the bottom of the city at the filthy, polluting Cidhna Silver mine. Jarl Igmund ruled his hold from the Mournful throne in Understone Keep, where Ondolemar was stationed to ensure not only the Jarl would do well to remember his place, but to put an end to the Talos worship the region was renowned for; with an emphasis on 'was'.
Most of the Dwemer architecture lay in ruin and had been repaired over the years, but the heavy, steam-powered machinery still functioned. To what end, however, no one really knew, but the hum and hiss of the pistons and cylinders were a soothing sound that echoed through the Keep and also kept it warm. Ondolemar and his bodyguards rounded the corner as they had just finished their last round of the eve through the city, which would have been beautiful were it not tainted by the silver mine and the Silver-Blood family's corruption. All in time, however…Ondolemar thought with a smirk.
They walked down the long, dim-lit hallway to his chambers. The walls were decorated with Dwemer-style, rough carvings, lined with Dwemer steel to support the weight of it all. Overhead, along the walls and ceilings ran pipes of which no one knew the purpose as they led into the ruins of Nchuand-Zel below the Understone Keep and the city.
His ears were always keen and he looked up when the rhythm of the pipes differentiated from normal, only to be followed by another rattle. He narrowed his eyes, as did his bodyguards. They lingered for a moment, staring up and listening. Whatever it had been, it was gone now. They made to continue their way when a dark shadow leapt down from the pipes but Ondolemar's bodyguards were too late to respond and their heads were rammed against each other, effectively knocking them out. Ondolemar immediately drew his elven sword and lunged for the Dark Elf, who leapt away from the blade that missed him by just. "How dare you! In the name of the Dominion, you are under arrest!"
"Whoa, easy, I just knocked them out!" The Dark Elf exclaimed while he frantically leapt, ducked and dodged the Thalmor's sword. "I need to talk to you! ACK!" Ganir ducked behind a statue just in time as flame shot forth from Ondolemar's hand and barely missed him.
"You should have thought of that before you assaulted my men!" Ondolemar snarled. "I'll gut you like a pig, mongrel!"
He put his hand on the nearby, Dwemer steel pipe and with his hand, he heated it up so fast the steam blew a valve from its place and forced the Dark Elf from his hiding place. Briefly blinded, the Dark Elf shrieked in surprise and was forced to draw his daggers to defend himself against the blows the Thalmor dealt him who relentlessly pressured him with both sword and spell. "I will enjoy tearing you apart!"
"That's not what you said to the prince in Camlorn!" The Dark Elf ducked and kicked the feet from under Ondolemar, who made a swift recovery by rolling back so he had the momentum to jump back to his feet. In the process, his hood was pulled back and the Dark Elf eyed the Thalmor whose face was set in a snarl.
Unlike most High Elves, Ondolemar's head was shaven, save for a goatee. He was much stronger and muscular than Ancano was with a wider jaw and a straight nose.
Ondolemar shot a bolt of lightning at Ganir, who charged forward in an attempt to tackle the Thalmor, but against his expectations, the High Elf side-stepped the Dark Elf and rammed him with his full weight against the wall. Ondolemar slammed the hilt of his sword against the Dark Elf's hand to rid him of the first dagger. He then tore the other dagger from the Dark Elf's other hand and held the tip of his blade against the Dark Elf's chest. "And what would you know what happened in Camlorn, mongrel?" His dark green eyes locked with the Dark Elf's red ones.
Whoever this Dark Elf was, he had been capable enough to sneak his way into the Keep and knock his bodyguards out. Yet, he was not here to kill him, which judging by his skill, he easily could have done. It infuriated him that he was obviously toying with him.
He pushed the blade through the Dark Elf's armor, who grunted as the tip of the sword scratched the surface of his skin. In spite of that, however, the Dark Elf raised his hands in a mocking manner while his lips curled into the most handsome, rogue-ish grin Ondolemar had ever seen a man sport in the face of death. Ondolemar's nostrils flared in rage and he pushed his blade in deeper, drawing blood from the Dark Elf, who hissed in pain. "Well?" Ondolemar grabbed hold of the Dark Elf's throat. "You wanted to talk, then talk before I impale you on my sword."
"That's not quite what you said to the prince whom you impaled in quite a different way and place…Or was it the other way around…?"
Ondolemar's cheeks colored a bright red before he gathered himself. "How dare you imply-!" When he pulled back his blade to teach the Dark Elf a lesson, the Dark Elf grabbed hold of his hand with a surprising amount of strength and punched him. Then, with a swift swing, he disarmed the Thalmor and flung him against the wall. With no effort at all, the Ganir held Ondolemar in a grip and pushed him against the cold, hard stone and steel wall.
Ondolemar's fingers crackled with flame as he struggled against the Dark Elf's hold in an attempt to break free but the Dark Elf pressed his hard, strong body against him from behind and held him in place. "I'll admit I like it a little rough from time to time, but I just fixed my armor and I'd rather not have you impale me that way."
"What do you want from me, you cur!" He spat. He made to elbow him, but tensed up when he heard another most familiar voice.
"If you're quite done playing around, Ganir…" Ancano stood leaning in the doorway to Ondolemar's private quarters. "Long time no see, Ondolemar."
"What is the meaning of this, Ancano?!" Ondolemar exclaimed.
"I thought you would appreciate the jest," he said dryly with a most smug smirk in spite of the pain he was in. "Though you clearly didn't learn from the lesson you were taught in Camlorn."
"So this mongrel is with you?" He glared at the Dark Elf and then narrowed his eyes at Ancano. "And I recall we were not to make mention of that incident ever again. What in Auri-El's name are you doing here and what is the meaning of all this?!"
"I apologize for the fashion in which we had to approach you, but we require the utmost discretion given the nature of the matter at hand." Ancano approached Ondolemar, lowering his voice. "I didn't think you still had it in you to put up such a fight. You seem to have taken quite the liking to the wine from the region." He gave Ondolemar's side a teasing pat.
"This is coming from a mer who looks like he bedded a She-Orc." Ondolemar snapped at Ancano, who had turned away. "Now would you mind getting your vampire pet off me?"
"You could also ask me nicely, you know." Ondolemar refrained from groaning as the Dark Elf's voice not only brushed past his ear but he could feel the strength of his body pressure his own. "Though you seem quite comfortable…" The Dark Elf continued in a barely, audible whisper.
Ondolemar shot up, enraged and pushed him away. "Don't flatter yourself, mongrel. And get that smug smirk off your face lest I pummel you, Ancano... If anyone heard of this I…" Much to his frustration, Ondolemar was clearly embarrassed and he couldn't hide it. Yet, when one of his bodyguards groaned and stirred, Ancano's expression grew grave and serious. Whatever was going on, no one could know. With a sigh, he waved his hand at Ganir. "Just get my men to their respective quarters. Tell them it was a drill. And you," he pointed an angry, accusing finger at Ancano. "You have a lot of explaining to do. Get inside."
"Thank you." Ancano said and followed Ondolemar into his quarters. Unlike Ancano's chambers at the College of Winterhold, Ondolemar's quarters were far more luxurious. Ancano sat down in a stone, Dwemer seat, which would have been uncomfortable had it not been cushioned. The walls were lined with Dwemer artefacts and tapestries. The weapons of the Thalmor and Dominion were hung above the hearth. Behind the seating area were two doors of which one lead to a balcony which overlooked Markarth and the other led to Ondolemar's private chambers.
"I would very much like to know what the meaning of this is, Ancano." Ondolemar crossed his arms as he eyed the other High Elf. His face was bruised and blood stained the ragged tunic and pants he wore. "What in Auri-El's name happened to you? Where is your uniform?"
"I would rather burn it than don it again after what happened to me, Ondolemar. I am in need of your aid." Ancano looked weary, not sure where to even begin. "I had nowhere else to go and you are the only man I trust. It is not only my life that is in danger, but that of the College's mages as well."
"What do you mean?" Ondolemar sat down on the stone table across from Ancano. "Please, just tell me."
"I don't even know where to begin," Ancano pinched the bridge of his nose. "However, you must know that what I am about to tell you, cannot leave these chambers. Not even your men may know about it. I am not sure yet whether I have made a grave mistake in coming here and burdening you with it, but…I simply didn't know where else I would be safe from Elenwen's wrath."
"You and your maverick shenanigans." Ondolemar sighed. "What in the hell did you do now?"
"Do me a favor, and grab us some wine first and don't bother pouring it. I'll need a bottle to myself and so will you once you learn the truth," Ancano said wryly.
Ondolemar furrowed his brow. "And the Dark Elf?"
"Ganir Mathendis. The Dragonborn." Ancano replied. "He helped me escape the Embassy where I was held."
Ondolemar heaved a deep, heavy sigh. "Make that two bottles."
Yes, at long last, here it is, chapter 15. I hope you enjoyed reading this! Let me know what you thought!
I would also very much like to thank a recent review from a guest. I generally love and appreciate all the reviews and comments I get but this one just blew me away. I'm so glad to see I can make someone's reading experience so great even if it's just a fanfic. Really means a lot and its -definately- really appreciated! Thank you very much!
