Lastspell Falls [A Skyrim Fanfiction}

(Un)romantic Dining

Ondolemar's apartments are deeper within the Keep, and I'll admit I expected the conversation with Igmund to take much longer, so as I'm ascending the steps to his section I stop outside his door, hearing voices.

"I want it done tonight. The sooner we can progress these plans, the better for all involved."

"Yes, Justiciar."

"And remember, no survivors."

"It will be done, sir."

I recognise Vaaria's voice speaking with Ondolemar, and realise that if I'm caught listening it'll set off another argument. I don't normally try to pry into his Thalmor work, but something about this just feels... off.

I retreat back down the steps as I hear armour shifting, and I'm re-climbing the last couple of steps when three of the soldiers exit, Vaaria with them. I smile warmly at her, but she barely acknowledges me as she passes.

"Ah, you did come," Ondolemar remarks as he steps out of his office, spotting me. I see his eyes slide over to the timepiece by the door. "A little early, but I will take it as a sign of your eagerness."

"I expected to be caught up longer talking to Igmund," I explain. He gestures for me to follow him into the dining room; I've noted that Ondolemar's apartments are larger than Jarl Igmund's, which irks me for some reason. Technically Igmund has the entire keep, but the private spaces aren't as private as they maybe should be for him. I guess it's just Mer superiority bullshit.

Hopefully I can convince Ondolemar to unsubscribe from that particular belief set, but I doubt it.

"I do hope you are well-rested after your travels," he remarks, pulling out a chair for me to sit down in. The table is laid with a relatively simple meal for altmer tastes - a roast pheasant, and about seven or eight different lots of vegetables. Normally there's enough here for a four-course meal, though I know for a fact Ondolemar doesn't eat it all.

"Didn't sleep too well, but I slept late," I reply. He's being oddly formal, and pushes the seat in after I sit down. One of his staff steps up to pour out some wine, though I only take a half goblet.

"I suppose you felt bad about how things went last night," he says, taking his seat at the opposite end of the table. I tilt my head.

"You didn't?"

"I was in the right."

I manage to keep my expression neutral, somehow, but he doesn't even blink. Damn, he really does believe it.

"I was away for a few days," I tell him. "I returned home late. Rather than visit Igmund or deliver my own debrief, I had someone else in my household do it. I was tired from travelling, weary from fighting, and was looking forward to food and a warm bed. I intended to come up here early this morning, after resting. You came over, uninvited, and started telling me off. Then you brought up the incident with Bal. And you think you were in the right?"

"Yes," he replies curtly, not even looking at me as he carves a few slices of meat off the pheasant. "You left without informing me, went to places unknown without even leaving a message, put yourself in unnecessary danger while nobody knew where to even begin looking for you, and then you expect me to coddle you when you return with your companion dead or missing and you hiding away from everyone? Not to mention the behaviour of your housecarl in your absence - were you aware he threw me out of your house?"

"Yes, he told me," I reply, "And he was right in doing so. I'm not allowed into your apartments without your presence, I don't see why you should be permitted entry to my house without my presence."

"I need to be involved in every aspect of your life, Brighid. You are my partner, and that is how relationships work."

"Then let's talk about the relationship," I snap, feeling myself growing impatient. "Where do you see us in a hundred years?"