Chapter 39
Mourning
The horse jolted to a stop—Rulindil swung down, boots crunching on embassy gravel. Aurelia slid off, unsteady, cloak snagging—before she could steady herself, his hand clamped her wrist again. "Come," he said, voice clipped, "for your safety." His eyes narrowed as he pulled her forward—through the embassy's doors, down the halls, her boots scuffing to keep pace.
"There's a room for you," he began. "The First Emissary will speak with you soon." He stopped at a bedroom door shoved it open and yanked her in, stopping short of crossing the threshold himself. "Stay put, Princess," he ordered, gaze unreadable but piercing. The door slammed shut, lock snapping into place.
"Locked in again," she murmured, a whimper slipping free as she tested the door—useless. Ondolemar gone, Halbjorn lost—Solitude is currently in Chaos, and Aurelia hasn't an idea what's really going on. She took in her surroundings, gazing across the room. It was a small bedroom, nice furnishing that included a double bed, a desk, a chair. How long were they planning to her here? She stepped towards the window, looking out at the snow-capped mountains; she fought the tears threatening to fall. She felt scared and confused, but she couldn't let Elenwen see her like this. She pulling the crumpled piece of parchment from her cloak, grazing her hand against its creases, clinging to the note's fragile promise.
It was nearing midnight by the time Aurelia heard a sharp knock on her and then the sound of the door unlocking. Elenwen glided in, closing the door behind her with a soft thud. She tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips, but with no kindness. "I'm sure you are wondering why you are here, my dear." She said. "Your father is gone."
Aurelia's brows knitted, her breath catching. "What do you mean?" She asked barely above a whisper—clinging to hope, fearing the worst.
Elenwen stepped closer, eyes glinting. "Ulfric Stormcloak challenged Torygg to a duel, dear. I'll have details tomorrow, but we know this: your father's dead."
Aurelia's gasped. Dead? Ulfric Stormcloak killed him? Her lips quivered, she shut her eyes as a tear slipped. She stood frozen, her breath hitched. He's… gone?
"We will speak more tomorrow, dear." Elenwen added before stepping out of the room, locking the door behind her.
When the door clicked shut, more tears streamed down Aurelia's face. Her hands flew up to her mouth as she tried to muffle her cries.
Elenwen strode down the hall pausing at Rulindil's door. She knocked once, and entered—closing the door softly. Rulindil looked up from his desk, quill in his hand, eyes narrowing.
"Ambassador. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, voice smooth.
"I've informed the girl her father's dead," Elenwen replied, gliding closer, her hand brushing the desk's edge near his. "She's mourning of course. Poor thing. She's vital to the Dominion's plans." Her tone dipped, a smirk ghosting her lips. "Keep her secure."
He leaned back, his eyes tracing her, lingering a beat too long. "And Ondolemar?"
Her smirk tightened. "He'll be here tomorrow to report. I'm assuming he'll want to see the girl-let him. Things will be… much simpler if they are close."
"Hmph." Rulindil's brow arched, dry amusement curling his lips. "Shouldn't take much. I found her in his office at dawn—locked in. They're already… entangled, I'd say."
Elenwen's gaze flashed—possessive. "Good," she murmured, fingers flexing near his. "Let it grow."
At the same time Aurelia had arrived at the embassy, dusk had settled over Solitude, a strange tense quiet washed over the city. Ondolemar had lingered in the palace, remaining out of sight avoiding the chaos and waiting for an opportunity to get to Torygg's body. He no doubt wore the amulet of Talos he had been concealing.
For years he'd been aware of the Kings secret Talos worship. He'd noticed when Aurelia was a girl. It was too much hassle to deal with-reports, reprimands, and of course he didn't want to lose his position as a mentor to Aurelia.
Feeling the warmth of the magicka working, he casted an invisibility spell and then he slipped past a guard watching over the kings body. He stepped into the dim hall, steps silent. Torygg lay still, his amulet winking under the fold, same as always. Ondolemar knelt quickly lifting it free. "Forgive me," he muttered—guilt flaring, not for the king, but her. He tucked the amulet close, rose and left the hall before the guard could even glance back.
Ondolemar made his way out of the Blue Palace. He returned to the Thalmor Headquarters, ready to write his report on the days events. He opened the door to his office and then froze.
Halbjorn was sprawled amongst chaos. Paper shredded, the desk gouged, his chair in ruins covered in claw marks, deep scratches raked the door, shelves toppled. The Sabre cat's body heaved, his paws splayed, fur matted. He was curled on Ondolemar's cloak, nose buried into its folds. The beast let out a low rumble, almost whine that sounded mournful. His sharp yellow eyes flicked up at Ondolemar.
"Gods, you've made a mess," Ondolemar muttered, stepping through the ruins. Halbjorn surged, a growl cutting to a huff, sniffing him recognizing her scent then slumping back.
Ondolemar knelt cautiously, placing his hand on the side of the cat's body. Halbjorn's whine sharpened, his eyes looking up to his wide like a plea-where is she?
Ondolemar's throat caught-fifteen hours, you've been locked in here because of me. "She's safe," he whispered. His fingers tracing behind the Sabre cat's ears. Halbjorn pressed into the touch, dipping his head, a sign of trust. "I'll get you to her," he said firmly.