Chapter 35

Ondolemar III

The first light of morning had just begun to filter through the heavy curtains as Ondolemar carefully untangled himself from Aurelia's embrace. He lay beside her, watching her chest rise and fall in her peaceful slumber. Just a few more moments… but even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew better. He had already over indulged too much. Quietly he eased himself out of the bed with a practice precision so as to not wake Aurelia from her sleep. As he stood at the edge of the bed he paused a moment, allowing his gaze to linger on her, memorizing the curve of her sleeping form. He felt his heart twisting, but he pushed the feeling to the side and focused on the task at hand.

With a practiced grace, Ondolemar reached for his Thalmor robes, dressing himself quietly. The gold insignia glinting in the light as he draped them over his shoulders, fastening the clasp with meticulous fingers. The stiff fabric of his uniform settled on his form, grounding him. A reminder of the role he was meant to play. With the dawn's light, he sheds the warmth of a lover, stepping fully into the cold authority of the Thalmor Commander.

Ondolemar began his day reviewing reports in his office at the Thalmor Headquarters. Tomorrow would be the day the Stormcloak leader arrives in Solitude. According to reports he had given no warning or notification to any outside sources. When he enters the city gates it will be unexpected-to everyone but the Thalmor. Ulfric's movements had been under constant observation for weeks now. He had known he was coming to Solitude, he'd ordered spies to track his movements across Skyrim. If the Intel is correct, he will be challenging the High King to a public duel for the throne.

Aurelia…. Please forgive me. He thought to himself silently. He knew if he had told her, it wouldn't have changed anything. This is the path that Ulfric has chosen to take. All Ondolemar can do now is prepare for the inevitable. But the thought of Aurelia-of what this would do to her-gnawed at him. He had planned to keep her in a secure location for her safety, sure, but she needed an anchor-a promise of stability and protection for the storm that is to come.

A thought began to take root in his mind: marry her.

It seemed ridiculous at first, fleeting, but as the day went on, it continued to persist. A secret. A bond between them, untainted by politics or schemes. Something only meant for them.

This is reckless. He could almost hear Aurelia, the way she would tease him for even considering it. You, the ever-dutiful Justiciar, indulging in something as impulsive as a secret marriage with a Nord? She'd say with that playful lilt in her voice.

He felt his chest tighten, a strange, unwelcome ache he'd never admit to. Ondolemar stood from his desk, without hesitation he made his way into the main hall.

He strode through the corridors in a blur, until he found himself before Agent Sanyon, who sorting through a set of newly delivered documents. The mer had been doing busy work ever since his chandelier incindent.

At Ondolemar's approach, Sanyon straightened and offered a curt nod. "Commander."

"I'm heading out," Ondolemar said smoothly. "I'll be patrolling the city for a bit."

Sanyon's brows lifted slightly. "Patrolling, sir?"

Ondolemar didn't miss the surprise in the agent's voice. He rarely patrolled the streets himself—not unless there was something, or someone, worth his personal attention.

Sanyon hesitated, then merely nodded. "Shall I have an escort accompany you?"

"That won't be necessary." Ondolemar's tone left no room for argument.

"Understood, sir."

Sanyon returned to his work, but Ondolemar could feel the unspoken curiosity lingering between them. Let him wonder. It didn't matter.

Turning on his heel, Ondolemar strode toward the exit, the embassy's heavy doors parting before him. The crisp air met him as he stepped outside.

He hadn't lied—he would patrol. He would walk the streets, observe. But there was only one place his feet would take him in the end.

The heavy doors of the temple of the divines shut quietly behind Ondolemar, as he stepped inside. He strode forward, his Thalmor robes flowing behind him as he made his way towards the altars. His golden eyes fell on the altar of Mara. An altar of love and marriage, a symbol of union, of devotion.

A priest stood nearby, arranging a set of ceremonial candles. Ondolemar hesitated only a moment before addressing him.

"You there," he spoke, his voice low yet commanding. "I have need of your services."

The priest turned, brows lifting slightly as he took in the sight of the Mer before him. A Thalmor Justiciar standing before the altar of Mara was an uncommon sight, to say the least.

"Of course, Justiciar," the priest said, his tone measured, though curiosity flickered in his eyes. "What guidance do you seek from Mara's grace?"

Ondolemar's jaw tightened slightly. "I require a wedding ceremony," he stated plainly. "Tonight."

The priest blinked, clearly caught off guard. "You… wish to be wed?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in his voice. "It must be done in secrecy. No witnesses, no records. Just the vows."

The priest studied him, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his expression. "Marriage is not a matter to be rushed. It is a sacred bond, blessed by Mara's love. If secrecy is required, I must ask—"

Ondolemar cut him off with a sharp look. "Do not mistake this for a fleeting whim." His voice carried an edge of finality. "I know what I ask. This must be done in secrecy, away from prying eyes." He paused a moment, " I wish to marry the Princess."

The priest's breath hitched. For a moment, he simply stared, the weight of Ondolemar's words sinking in.

"The… Princess?" His voice was hushed, almost disbelieving. "You mean to wed Lady Aurelia, daughter of King Torygg?"

"Yes," Ondolemar confirmed, his expression unreadable. "Tonight."

A silence stretched between them. This was no ordinary request—it was a secret union between the High King's heir and a Thalmor Justiciar.

"Why?" The question was spoken softly, not in accusation, but in genuine wonder.

"We are already to be wed in the future, but I will not let that future be dictated by politics alone." Ondolemar exhaled slowly before continuing, "Aurelia is not just the princess-she's... my exception, my reason to question what I am. She unravels me, without even trying. I need her close because her absence would be a void I could not endure."

The priest regarded him in silence before his expression softened. "Love is not meant to be kept in the shadows, Justiciar." His voice was gentle, but firm. "And yet, I can see yours is bound in secrecy, caught in forces beyond your control."

Ondolemar's jaw tensed as he straightened. "That is why I ask this of you. Let there be one thing between us that is ours alone."

The priest let out a slow breath, searching his face for any trace of doubt. He found none. "Very well. I will do as you ask. Mara blesses those who love truly, no matter the circumstances."

Ondolemar's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I have a special request… this arrangement requires absolute secrecy. I ask that we wed not here, not in Solitude."

The priest brows knitted together in contemplation. "Not here?" He repeated. "Then where do you wish to make your vows?"

Ondolemar's gaze flickered to the empty altar, he hesitated only a moment before speaking. "There is a shrine," he said, his voice low, conspiratorial. "Beyond the city walls, hidden in the forest and snow." He met the priest gaze with absolute certainty. "A Shrine of Talos."

The priest's expression shifted from curiosity to quiet astonishment, yet he did not immediately protest. "You would marry her beneath the blessing of Talos?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.

Ondolemar's jaw clenched, his fingers curling at his sides. "I would marry her where no eyes can see. Where no one will suspect."

The priest regarded him in silence then nodded. "Then we must not waste time. The night will not wait for lovers who hesitate."

Ondolemar inclined his head in thanks before turning sharply on his heel. He began to make his way toward the door, but before he could make it far the priest spoke again. "You should tell her that you love her."

He froze at the priests words. The words hung in the air. He had know devotion, duty, obligation-but love? Love was something mortals whispered in stolen moments, not for him. He opened his mouth to deflect, but then it hit him-stolen moments. Hadn't they been stealing them all along?

Her voice echoed-teasing him about missing her, her lips on his in the dark, the way her smiled pressed onto his neck last night. His chest tightened-a feeling he could not name. He thought about the way she nestled against him, the way she kisses him. When she had asked, 'do they know how I look at you?' Had she been watching? Testing the waters? Waiting for him to acknowledge something, he had been to blind to see. Had she doubted him? Convinced herself that his silence meant indifference? The thought unsettled him.

Ondolemar turned his head slightly to look back at the priest. He simply nodded in response. A silent acknowledgment that the priest may be right, that it may have been love that he's been blind to.

Tonight she would have no reason to doubt him.