Chapter 5

Halbjorn

Ondolemar walked quickly through the corridors of the Blue Palace, his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. His posture rigid, his movements purposeful, and his expression one of tightly controlled irritation. Under his arm, he carried a muddy sabre cat cub.

Halbjorn, oblivious to the trouble he had caused, let a small, triumphant growl. The cub's coat was smeared with dirt and leaves, and streaks of mud were now on Ondolemar's pristine robe, much to the Justiciar's dismay.

Ondolemar finds Aurelia in the garden, sitting at the fountain, harp in her lap as she absentmindedly plucked at the strings. She looks up from her harp, her eyes wide and her mouth twitches.

Ondolemar placed the cub down, exasperated he says "Your creature has overturned my inkstand, shredded a scroll, and decided my bed is his lair."

"I'm so sorry, Ondolemar." She manages, her voice trembling with suppressed laughter. Halbjorn trotted over to her, greeting her with an affectionate purr.

" I imagine you think this is quite amusing," Ondolemar said dryly, crossing his arms.

Aurelia glanced up at him, "it's a little funny," she admitted. "But I'll clean up the mess. I promise."

Ondolemar's quarters are in disarray. His inkstand is tipped over on his desk. A scroll is lies shredded on the floor, and there's a trail of muddy paw prints leading to the bed, where Halbjorn once claimed his "throne."

Ondolemar stands just inside the door, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest. His composure barely in tact, his lips pressed into a firm line as his eyes sweep across the room.

"This," he says gesturing to the mess, "is what your creature has done."

Aurelia takes a step forward, her eyes widening as she surveys the damage. "Oh," she says, her voice filled with genuine surprise and guilt.

"All right, I'll just start cleaning. I'll-" She pauses glancing at the spilled ink spooling across Ondolemar's desk. "I'll just… wipe it up?"

She grabbed a handkerchief from a nearby table and began wiping the ink. The dark liquid smeared across the desk. Aurelia frowned, biting her lip, "maybe if I -"

"No, no stop," Ondolemar interjected, his tone sharp but not unkind. He stepped forward, taking the cloth from her hand. "You're spreading it further."

Aurelia stepped out of the way, watching as Ondolemar moved with precision, blotting the ink instead of wiping it. "Blot, don't smear," he instructed, his eyes flicking to her for a moment, "it absorbs the ink instead of spreading it."

Together they worked in relative silence, Aurelia stumbling her way through the process as Ondolemar occasionally corrected her with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement.

As the room begins to look more orderly, Aurelia notices Ondolemar carefully sorting through his scrolls and parchments, his expression unusually focused.

Aurelia smirked, "you know, you're not as scary as you try to be."

Ondolemar looked up from what he was doing, intrigued by Aurelia's sudden comment, "Am I meant to take that as a compliment?"

Aurelia smiled playfully, "maybe. You're a good teacher," she shrugged, glancing towards him. "Even if you don't smile much." Aurelia stood holding Halbjorn in her arms as she carefully covered his ears and whispered, "just don't tell Halbjorn I said that. He'd be jealous."

Ondolemar studied her with amusement and allowed the faintest hint of a smile, shaking his head. "I shall endeavor to keep your secret."

Aurelia turned the cub to face her, looking straight into his eyes, playfully she said, "Now Halbjorn, now more diplomatic sabotage ok?"

Halbjorn let out a soft growl, and Ondolemar muttered in Elvish under his breath. Shaking his head still.

Ulfric and Galmar lingered in the war room after a strenuous day of planning and discussions. The air was thick with the smell of mead and the crackling of the fireplace.

"I've heard High King Torygg has allowed the Thalmor into the palace." Galmar muttered. "He's got one of them teaching the princess Elvish and other Aldmeri propaganda, no doubt."

Ulfric's brow furrowed as he crossed his arms. "Torygg," he said the name with disappointment, "is a boy playing at being a king. But allowing the Thalmor that kind of influence? That's not just naivety - it's weakness."

Galmar nodded in agreement, "They're poisoning the next generation, Ulfric. Of the Thalmor get their claws intoTorygg's daughter, who's to say she won't grow up spouting their lies? A Nord princess speaking Elvish, bowing to their ideals? It's an insult to Skyrim."

Ulfric was quiet a moment, he stared into the flickering flames of the hearth. "She's still just a child, Galmar," he said firmly. "Blame the High King, not the girl. If what you've heard is true, she's a pawn in their game, no different from Torygg himself."

Galmar snorted, shaking his head, "Maybe, but have you heard? She's keeping a Sabre Cat as a pet. A sign of softness if you ask me. A true Nord would've taken that beast as a pelt, not a pet."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Ulfric's lips, " taming a Sabre Cat is no easy feat, Galmar. Perhaps it's a sign of strength."