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Chapter Text

Executed? He was to be executed? All he knew was that there were two dead people and he didn't remember what or how it occurred. Before he knew it, the city guard was at the door. He was arrested, sentenced, then hauled to Solitude to have his sentence carried out since Whiterun didn't do executions. He had mere days before his head was going to roll. Cyldris Thorn, a vagabond from Valenwood, sat in his cell, staring at the stoned floor. He kept trying to remember what had happened that afternoon two days prior. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember anything. He knew the couple. They had helped him recover from a saber cat attack while traveling the plains of Whiterun. He had no reason to kill them. They were nice people! He couldn't understand why anyone wanted to kill them.

Cyldris had seen the chopping block by Solitude's entrance before. It gave him chills, but never had he thought that he would be facing it. He hugged himself in the cell, closed his eyes, and began murmuring prayers to Auri-El. He heard shifting in the dungeons, making his crimson eyes snap open. "Hello?"

There was silence.

"Is there someone else in here?"

"…There is," came a soft reply.

The Bosmer cracked a smile. "At least we're not alone."

He was met with silence.

"What's your sentence?" He asked.

"It was three months," the woman quipped. "I've only been here for three days."

"Oh? Well, you'll be alone again after noon tomorrow, I'm afraid."

"Execution?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"They say I killed two people, but I didn't! They helped me. I had no reason to kill them, but they don't believe me."

"I see."

He nervously shifted closer to the bars. "I promise I am not a murderer, friend. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You don't have to explain to me," the woman stated.

"How did you end up here?"

"I stole from a noble. What's your name?"

"Cyldris. And you?"

"Arathil."

He smiled, resting against the stone wall. "Nice to meet you, Arathil! It's a shame we couldn't meet in more fortunate circumstances."

Arathil hummed. "Tell me, Cyldris, where are you from?"

"Valenwood."

"Oh. So am I."

He lit up. "Ah, fellow kinsmen! What brought you to Skyrim?"

"I was on the run from the Thalmor."

Clydris frowned, shoulders sagging. "So was I…." He perked up. "But I travel all over Tamriel now. High Rock was my most recent adventure. I was hoping to go to Morrowind next."

"That's nice. Why do you travel so much?"

He grinned. "So much to see and so many people to meet!"

"Ah. I live in Skyrim now."

"Do you miss Vallenwood?"

"No."

Getting the feeling Arathil was not in the mood to talk, their conversation ended.

Clydris was lost in his own thoughts for hours until the guard came in to blow out the torches for the night. The prisoner hugged himself, curled up on his cot. He could hear rats scurrying through along the stone. He couldn't see an inch in front of his face in the darkness. How could he sleep well when tomorrow was his last day in this beautiful world? At least it'll be quick. He won't die screaming like his father did. He forced himself to lay down, staring in the vast darkness in front of him. "Good night, Arathil," he called.

There wasn't a reply.

He tried closing his eyes and whispered a prayer to Auri-El. He knew he had done horrible things in the past, but surely Auri-El would forgive him? If death was like this prison now, he wouldn't know what he would do. He wanted to at least have something in the afterlife to look forward to. Hopefully the deity would come to his dreams tonight. It's been too long since he heard His voice. He heard a metal gate softly squeak open.

He immediately jolted up to a faint glow coming from the end that moved closer, getting brighter. Then a small Bosmeri woman in rags stood on the other side of his cell with a deadpanned depression on her narrow face and a small flame in her hand. She dismissed her spell, knelt down, and began to lock pick. With in a single, cautious movement, it clicked open, she stood up, and opened the door. "Ready?"

Cyldris jumped to his feet, impressed that she was able to lock pick with her eyes practically closed. "Ready," he whispered, crimson eyes wide. "But how?"

"Follow." She led him back to her cell and stood by the back wall. She carefully knocked until she found the right spot. With such little effort, she leaned against the wall and the stones came crashing down, revealing a passage. "This way." She quickly led the way through the tunnel with her fire spell in hand.

Cyldris quickly followed. They weaved through the tunnels until they found a ladder going up. They climbed up and popped out of a sewer hole in the city. "You're good," he whispered.

"Master thief," she whispered back. "Come."

He followed her in the shadows of the night through the city until they found the side entrance through the tower. The pair went down the spiral staircase, opened a door, and was outside of the city by the docks.

Arathil looked at him. "This is where we split. Did you have any important gear in that prison?"

He shook his head. "No. I believe it's all still in Whiterun."

"Unfortunate, but at least you don't have to go back. I do."

"You do?"

"I lost my armor and weapons, so I'm gonna need to steal those back."

"How?"

"I have my ways. Now get going and don't expect to meet again." She walked back to the door.

"Wait!'

She turned to him, calculating crimson eyes locked on him.

"Thank you."

Arathil dipped her head, then slipped inside.

On his own, Cyldris sighed, and made his way up the road to the docks. He was cold in just the rags of clothing, but he kept going past Katla's farm. He didn't have his horse nor coin and had to make sure the guards didn't see him. Dragon Bridge was a small and quiet town, so it was easy for the elf to slip past any patrolling guards. Once he was across the famous bridge, he knew he was safe, but he couldn't survive the land without any gear. He didn't have time to make new armor or weapons either. The green ribbons of the aurora borealis danced overhead, guiding his way. Tired and cold, he kept walking towards Whiterun until he found a bandit fort. He swallowed, but knew he didn't have a choice. He approached the closed gates of the fort and knocked, then again.

The door opened to a confused, large orc.

"Please," the Bosmer whimpered, hugging himself against the cold, night air. "I need clothing. I have no coin. Please."

The orc blinked, turning towards the camp. "Hey! Wake the chief up! We've got a…strange situation." He looked back at the elf.

Morning came and Cyldris was wearing simple, but comfy fur armor and hide boots. It was perfect for him! He also was given a quiver of arrows, a bow, and twin steel axes. In return for the bandits' hospitality, he hunted and cooked food for them that were inspired by his homeland and shared stories of his travels. The only Khajiit of the group enjoyed hearing stories of golden seas of sand in Elswyer.

"You should join us!" The chief, Helga, clapped Cyldris on the back. "You will be safe here."

Cyldris sadly shook his head, looking at her. "I appreciate your offer, but I cannot stay in one place. I will be like a wolf in a cage."

The strong woman nodded. "I understand." She smiled. "We have never had anyone knock on our gates before."

"I was very confused," the orc, Urzok, chuckled.

Cyldris smiled at the several bandits, sitting around their breakfast. "Your kindness will not be forgotten. Truly. I will tell stories of the group of bandits that lend me aid– more so than most civilians have. I will never give your location, either."

"We will certainly enjoy the rabbits you skillfully hunted this morning," Helga graciously replied.

When noon arrived, his planned execution hour, the elf and the bandits exchanged farewells. With his new gear and knapsack, Cyldris knew he was nearing Whiterun's border, but the north was too cold to travel. It was the end of autumn, so he did not want to travel through the northern holds for for the rest of his journey for it was too freezing. Whiterun was the quickest way to the east since, but now as a wanted man, it was best to avoid the hold altogether. He enjoyed Skyrim for the last several years, but now, it was best to continue to Morrowind.

He continued down the road, planning the next route before he got to Rorikstead. It would be easier to go through Falkreath Hold, through the Rift, then go to Morrowind from there. It was better than traveling through the plains of Whiterun while avoiding traveling guards. The elf stopped in his tracks, noticing dead bodies of four bandits and a Thalmor on the road. "What the…?"

"He…lp…me…."

Cyldris stopped in his path, looking around the dry grass and rocks. "Hello?"

"Over…here…."

He noticed a figure, hidden by rocks and bushes. He approached the person, leaning back on rocks, but he stepped back, recognizing the dark robes of the Thalmor.

The Thalmor raised his head with blond hair neatly draped over his shoulders. His golden eyes were pleading and tired. His gloved hand was pressed on a wound on his side. "Help me…please."

Cyldris slowly moved his hand over to the axe on his hip. "I should kill you."

The Altmer rested his head against the rock, looking up to the blue sky. He smirked. "To be killed by a wood elf. How…poetic."

"If you want to live, why don't you heal yourself?" Cyldris spat.

"Too weak…I've been here for hours. We were attacked. They died…for Talos…supposedly. My life was…delusional. My purpose– the Thalmor… all delusional."

Cyldris sat beside him, curious to this statement coming from a Thalmor. "I have no reason to save you."

"If you save me," he looked at him from the corner of his eye, "I will be in your debt."

After a few seconds of pondering, the wood elf sighed. "I am going to regret this…." He held out his hand with a golden spell and began to heal the wounded high elf for a couple of seconds.

The Thalmor got to his feet. "Thank you. I was stabbed and after a few hours in the sun, I thought I was surely going to bleed to death. My name is Ondolemar. I am– or was– a commander in the Thalmor to clean out the Reach of any Talos worship, until I was ordered to patrol this part of Skyrim for rumored Talos worship. Well, they found us. It was all a ploy." He turned to the dead bodies. "I used to believe that the Altmer were the superior race and that Talos worship should be banished…. What utter nonsense."

Cyldris blinked. "Wait. I've seen you in Markarth. In the Keep."

"That was I."

"Don't you have a dog?"

He turned to him. "The dog was actually the Jarl's. He just kept following me."

Cyldris was puzzled, aware that animals had a good judge of character.

"Well, I won't be keeping you. You're a Bosmer. I doubt you and I will be friends."

"You want to be friends?"

"No. I just know the reputation our people have." He looked back at the dead. "There was a time where the Empire and the Altmer believed in Talos. These people– many people– are willing to die for their beliefs. Who are we to take that away from them? What does the Thalmor care about what the Empire wants?"

"What about your slaves?" Cyldris coldly questioned.

"Unforgivable."

Cyldris stared at him, questioning the Mer's sanity. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I only had one slave. My father killed her for theft. It turned out my sister only misplaced her necklace and the girl died for nothing. I refused to have a slave since and that was thirty years ago. As for this change, when you stand among the dead, one thinks: what is the point? My answer is: it was all a delusional lie. Talos has been a belief of the Empire for centuries. Why now to turn away? I think it is time that I turn away from the Thalmor. For good."

Cyldris stared at him, pondering if he should bury his axe in the back of his skull for still being a Thalmor. Instead, he decided to question more. "What about being the superior race?"

"I was at the inn in Markarth a couple of weeks ago. I met an Altmer woman. She was proud to be a newlywed. Her husband? A large, bearded Nord. I stopped talking to her after that, but the way she looked at him…she truly was in love." He looked at him. "Tell me, Bosmer, have you ever questioned your entire life's purpose? Because not once have I ever."

He softly sighed, bowing his head. He looked up at the taller elf. "There was a time where I had to go forward, but I didn't know how, so I traveled and decided to try to brighten other people's lives because I know what it's like to suffer and to be utterly alone. I do not wish anyone else to feel that. Even if it's for a moment. I want to help people if I can because I know what it's like when cries for help go unanswered. I do not wish to settle down because my home will never be lived in for I will always be gone. I say Auri-El has given you enlightenment. It is your choice what to do with it."

Ondolemar scoffed. "Auri-El. I never prayed to Auri-El or any god for that matter."

"And yet you choose to take a god away from people?"

The Altmer frowned. "The Thalmor believe we are practically gods among men. We live for so long that we might as well be, but we are nowhere close to being gods. We…do not have the power we believe. You have yet to tell me your name."

"Cyldris. Cyldris Thorn."

Ondolemar dipped his head. "As I said before, I am in your debt, Cyldris Thorn."

"You don't have to be. You were a person in need."

"And yet, you could've killed me. Anyone else would."

"Ondolemar." He inhaled. "Would you…like you accompany me on my travels? I am going to Morrowind, but you can stay as long as you wish." His gut knotted with those words, feeling he was going to regret it, but so far, saving the elf's life did not seem like a regret.

"Morrowind? The land of ash? I can never say I wanted to go there, but I suppose I will journey with you in Skyrim."

Cyldris nodded. "That is fine. Shall we then?"

"Yes…of course."

"Oh, um," he forced himself to look at the high elf in the eyes, "there is something you must know. I am wanted in Haafingar and Whiterun."

Ondolemar crossed his arms.

"I was wrongfully charged for two murders in Whiterun and I escaped Solitude's prison last night before my execution for those murders." He shook his hands. "But I didn't kill them! I-I don't know who did, but it wasn't me and I wasn't planning on escaping prison. There was another prisoner who broke out and she took me with her. We parted ways after we left the city." His heart was slamming against his chest, staring at the Thalmor like he was standing trial.

Instead of anger, the high elf laughed. "What an interesting fellow you are." It wasn't a backhanded comment. "Arrested for a murder you didn't commit, sentenced to death, then escaped that wasn't even your plan? I cannot tell if fortune is on your side or not."

Cyldris cracked a smile. "I should say it is because I should've been killed at noon today. That was almost an hour ago."

An amused smile formed on his thin lips. "Then considering your circumstances, perhaps we should travel south. Cut through Falkreath and towards the Rift."

He nodded, smiling. "That was my plan. Let's go." His blood was cold as they began their journey. Who was to say the Thalmor wasn't going to change his mind again? Cyldris could wake up to a knife at his throat or worse– shackles around his wrists. If he would be a slave again, then he was going to try to take everyone else down with him. Hopefully, Ondolemar would be merciful and just cut his throat in his sleep.

Chapter Text

As the strange pair walked towards Falkreath, Cyldris kept wanting to break the silence, but it was strange to have a former Thalmor commander at his side. He knew that he needed to gain his trust. They both did. "So, um," the Bosmer gingerly began, "do you miss your home?"

"To an extent."

"Same with me. I miss my home…to an extent." He tried not think of Valenwood.

Ondolemar glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

He looked around the plains with blue skies. "Skyrim is beautiful, isn't it?"

"A bit too cold for my tastes…."

"I agree. I travel the north only during the summers, but even in the winter, all of Skyrim is cold." He looked up at him. "Do you like traveling?"

"…To an extent."

"It is tiring at times, but, oh," he pleasantly smiled, "the things you see and people you meet."

"Answer me truthfully, Cyldris: have you personally had…issues with the Thalmor?"

Cyldris frowned, looking away. "I-I do not wish to talk about it. At least…not yet."

"I understand. If my presence makes you uncomfortable in anyway–"

He quickly waved his hands, looking up at him with alarmed eyes. "No, no! I want you to stay. I think Auri-El brought our paths together for a reason." He smiled. "Besides, it's been awhile since I've had a traveling companion. The last time I did was several years ago in High Rock. A Breton. He only travel with me for a day, though. He, uh, fell in love and stayed behind." He glanced at the Altmer's bloodied robes. "We should get you new clothing. You're not Thalmor anymore and they are ruined."

He looked down at the blood-stained gash. "I suppose you're right." There was uncertainty in his tone. He looked at him. "You really are devoted to Auri-El, aren't you?"

"I am! Sometimes He's the only friend I have." He gave a crooked smile. 

Ondolemar stared at him.

"He's a good listener. Sometimes he talks back."

"He…does?" He arched a brow.

"Sometimes. He's surprisingly loud. With an accent I never heard before." He chuckled, then swallowed, noticing where they were located. "We're coming up on Rorikstead. if the guards recognize me…."

"Where were the murders?"

"Closer to Whiterun."

"With our luck, they won't recognize you here."

Cyldris slightly nodded. "Hopefully…."

They came around the bend, entering Rorikstead. Since the Empire won over Skyrim a year ago, everyone was used to seeing the Thalmor. Cyldris didn't like the fact that the Empire had won and now Talos was lost the Nords and to anyone else who followed Him. It wasn't right. It was high time he left Skyrim, anyway. The guards and people of Rorikstead did glance at the Bosmer and Thalmor. Cyldris' heart was slamming against his chest, trying not to make eye contact to anyone. He had the classic sandy-brown Bosmeri hair that stood out right, so hopefully he would look like any other traveling Wood Elf…that traveled with a Thalmor. The walk through the town felt too long, but when they were out, he released a breath, not realizing he was holding it.

"You really have no idea who killed those people?" Ondolemar suddenly asked when out earshot of anyone.

Cyldris shook his head. "No. Every time I try to think about it it's blurry. I just remember finding them dead."

"Who were they?"

"Farmers. Recently built the farm, too. I was wounded by a saber cat and shock prevented me from healing properly. It was a couple. Nords. Hilda and Styrr. They took me in and nursed me back to health."

Ondolemar looked at him. "Where did the cat get you?"

"It swiped my back to my side." He gestured in a claw-like motion from the center of his back wrapping around to his lower left side. "It got me from behind. I heard a growl and just as I turned, it was right in front of me. I had to fight back, but I was already bleeding profusely, so I had one shot. Just as it tried to bite me, I got it in its jugular with my axe. Poor creature was just hungry, but I wanted to live." He snorted with a sad smile. "It was a blessing that I came across the farm…." He looked in the direction of the farm that was between Rorikstead and Whiterun, but it was not in view from where they were. He inhaled, looking back ahead of himself. "Days later, they were killed. My horse is there, too, but I can't go back to get her." He missed Theo. 

"I'm sorry."

"I want to find the ones who did it, but I doubt I ever will. Oh! I had a bandit camp help me just before I met you."

Ondolemar looked at him, arching a pointed brow. "You did?"

Cyldris, as promised, told the story of the bandits' kindness and the look of disbelief on the Thalmor's face was priceless.

Ondolemar cracked a smile. "You are a strange, little fellow, you know that? Making friend with bandits, Thalmor– Anything else like Daedra?"

The Wood Elf laughed. "Oh, gods no! I do not consort with Daedra! Anything but!"

For the first time in an hour, they shared a laugh, but it ended abruptly, when Ondolemar shoved Cyldris out of the way and a bolt of electricity shot from his hand. The Wood Elf spun to find a Dunmeri man wearing a strange golden helmet with fur armor, twitching on the ground from the electricity coursing through his body.

Ondolemar was about to strike again, but Cyldris held out an arm. "Wait!" He approached the wounded man. "Who are you?"

"We…a-are followers of the Mad God. We are or-rdered to kill the Bosmer that walks with…the Th-Thalmor." His body kept spasming.

"That's oddly specific…." He murmured. "And strange, too, since we just joined each other's company a mere hour ago. Who ordered you?"

The man deviously smiled.

Ondolemar joined at his side. "I can make him talk."

Cyldris held out a hand without looking at his companion. "No. We will not torture him. Who sent you?"

"Kinthal. You will find him east of Karthwasten, on a hill. He wants you dead. Why?" He tittered. "That's a sssssecret," he sang.

"Thank you." He raised his axe and brought it down on the Dunmer's chest, killing him. Noticing a gleaming, golden axe close to the Dunmer, he dropped his own bloodied one and picked it up. "Interesting."

"I have never seen such a metal before," Ondolemar commented.

"Nor have I."

"You did not tell me you had enemies."

He looked up at his companion. "I didn't know myself. It's strange how he knew that I traveled with you even though we just met…." He holstered the golden axe at his right hip.

"Maybe he was following you?"

"From the prison or bandit camp? That doesn't make sense." He looked at the dead elf and removed the strange helmet. "I never even saw him in my life." He dropped the helmet and sighed. "Either way," he looked back at his companion, "you saved my life. Your debt as been repaid and I fear that my journey to Morrowind may have been postponed. I wish to see this…Kinthal."

"I wish to join you."

Cyldris was puzzled. "Why? Your debt–"

Ondolemar held up a gloved hand. "Someone is trying to kill you. Someone who is associated with Sheogorath and knows too much about you. How would they know that I am with you when we have just met? I wish to know myself and to aide you."

"You…you don't have to."

"I want to."

"Thank you," he softly replied. 

"Come, let's go to Falkreath, then we shall go from there."

Looking at the dead man once more, Cyldris joined his companion's side as they continued their way in thoughtful silence.

After a half-hour walk, they entered the Falkreath Hold. Cyldris was able to breathe. He was out of Whiterun Hold and now he had freedom. The walk around Lake Ilinalta was a beautiful and peaceful view. It almost made Cyldris want to stop and fish, but they pressed on. If he did have a home, it would be in this wooded area by the lake. Woods, lake, and away from the city with his own garden and farm– How peaceful it would be. Also, if he ever did need to go to the city, Falkreath was a small, open city and wasn't closed off unlike others are. No gates, just go straight through. Perhaps, it would be nice to have a home, but if he did, then he would have to abandon it for Morrowind. There's not point in staying in Skyrim if he was a wanted man in two holds. He traveled too much. "Do you have a home in Markarth?" He suddenly wondered.

"No, I stayed in the Keep."

"Do you have a home?"

"My family's home in the Summerset Isles."

"Ah."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Just curious. Oh! I only have twenty coins on me that the bandits graciously gave me. I don't know how much you have, but just so you are aware. I also personally tend to stay on a tight budget."

"Ah. That's fine. I hope to find new clothing in Falkreath. I assume we will stay the night?"

Cyldris wasn't a fan of sleeping indoors when the night would be clear, but after staying a couple of nights in prison cells, a bed sounded wonderful. "We are."

"Excellent. I had a long day of travel. I left at ungodly hours this morning and slowly bleeding out under the sun for a couple of hours is exhausting. I'm just glad it wasn't the afternoon sun."

"In that case, we will definitely stay at the inn."

It was around two in the afternoon when the pair had finally arrived to the foggy city. Despite its gloomy aura, it was Cyldris' favorite city in the land. They stopped by the general goods store where Ondolemar bought a blue tunic and good boots. He got changed behind the shop with Cyldris keeping eye out and once the Altmer stepped from behind in his new clothing, Cyldris felt relief. He was no longer traveling with his kin's mortal enemy.

The Thalmor robes were disposed in a nearby barrel, but Ondolemar did not share Cyldris' relief. He just stared at the barrel. "For many years I wore those robes…. Now, I have truly no idea what I am going to do with my life." He looked down at his knew garments. "And to wear such clothing…." He spat the word like it disgusted him. "I would never had thought that I would be–"

"A commoner?" Cyldirs folded his arms, trying to hide his amusement.

Ondolemar looked at him. "Forgive me. This is all very new to me."

"I understand." He blinked, noticing a silver amulet around the Altmer's neck. "You still have the Thalmor necklace."

He gently touched the silver medallion with the Thalmor's sigil on it. "I have yet to be able to bring myself to remove it. This transition is happening all too fast."

Cyldris nodded. "I do understand. Take your time." Deep down, he was afraid the Mer would take too much time.

Ondolemar looked at him, dropping his hand form the medallion. "Thank you."

"Want to get a bite to eat at the inn?"

"Please. The jerky was not enough."

They went inside the Dead Man's Drink and ordered ale and a light late lunch. Sitting at a table opened more discussion. Interests, hobbies…. Cyldris never took the Altmer as a painter! Listening to him talk about art was like listening to the breeze in the leaves. It flowed out of him so naturally and passionately. The man needed to create. Perhaps once he has his life settled away from the Thalmor, he would be able to focus on creating. He suddenly found himself watching the Altmer's thin lips as he spoke. Embarrassed, he looked away from his companion to take a drink, but still keenly listening.

"Forgive my rambling," Ondolemar suddenly said, smirking. "I go on too much." He took a drink.

"No, No!" Cyldris immediately looked back at him. "Your passion…it's inspiring. You should do something with it."

Ondolemar smiled so softly that his golden eyes shone like water reflecting the sun's brilliant rays. "Thank you. Your compliment is…endearing. I appreciate it."

Cyldris felt himself flush under the Mer's gentle gaze. He smiled. "I love seeing people passionate about their loves in life." He took a sip of his own drink. "It's the little things in life."

"Traveling is your big thing. What's your little thing?"

"Fishing. I enjoy to fish and listen to nature. The wind and water are my music along with the birds and frogs. That's my little thing, I suppose."

"So, is nature your hobby or is fishing?"

He laughed. "Both, I suppose."

"You help people, befriend anyone, and yet you ask for nothing in return. You're a vagabond who just wants adventure and friends."

"And peace," he laughed. "I also want peace."

"You've lived a lonely life, haven't you?"

Cyldris frowned. "Not…too lonely, no. I don't…." His voice faded, finding himself staring through the table.

"Forgive me for prying." Ondolemar gently said, taking a drink.

"You have a right to pry," he sadly smiled. "It's just…I never…. I don't know." He looked away once more.

"I'm not good at talking either. I understand."

Cyldris always thought of himself as being a great talker, but perhaps, his companion was right. He wasn't good at talking. Not really.

The Altmer downed the rest of his ale. "Well, I am exhausted. I am going to take a nap. It's been too long of a day for me." He stood up.

"Sleep well!"

Once his friend retired to his room and closed the door, Cyldris finished his own drink and left the inn to walk around town. He was already down to seven Septims. He needed to sell at least one potion to make him feel comfortable while he was in town with an alchemist. They were probably going to stay in Markarth next, so he had to prepare incase they arrived late.

After Ondolemar had awoken from his nap, the pair went their own way to wonder the town, but when evening came, they were both back at the inn having dinner and drinks. The local bard played the flute with people dancing. For a gloomy city, it came alive at the inn. Cyldris enjoyed the festivities and by the looks of it, so did the Altmer, but considering they had another long day of travel tomorrow, Cyldris went to bed early. However, before bed, he studied the golden axe. It's wasn't made of gold and had an amber-like tint to it. It was fascinating, really, and Kinthal. Never before had he heard such a name and how is he and that Dunmer linked to Sheogorath? How did they know that he was traveling with a Thalmor after meeting him an hour prior? None of this made sense. Putting the axe down with the rest of his gear, he sighed. "Auri-El, give me guidance…." He crawled into bed and fell asleep.

Cyldris woke up with a start and judging by how silent it was outside of the door, it was in the middle of the night. He replayed the dream over and over again. "No," he whispered with blood chilling in his veins. "No…." He buried his face in his pillow, trying not to cry. He truly did deserve to be executed if the dream was correct.

Chapter Text

The morning was rough for Cyldris. He woke up with the nightmare playing over and over in his head. It just didn't make sense. Why would he have killed the people who saved him? He wasn't a monster! Hoping it was just a twisted dream, Cyldris continued to prepare for the day, but another weight was on his shoulders. He needed to tell Ondolemar the truth about his past. If they were going to trust each other, then he also needed to come clean. Dressed and ready to go for their travels, he was already having breakfast by the time Ondolemar came out of his room, also dressed, and joined him. After breakfast, they packed food and water. Yesterday, the Altmer had bought his own supplies, but they still have yet to find sleeping rolls. Once they made sure they had everything, the pair left the inn.

"To Markarth?" Ondolemar asked as they stepped outside.

"To Markarth." Cyldris smiled up at him. "Your old home."

He pleasantly chuckled.

They left the gloomy city of Falkreath and began to follow the road north. It was a beautiful morning with birds singing and the fog amongst the forest. It was tranquil.

"Cyldris?" Ondolemar asked after twenty minutes of silence. "You seem quiet."

"Hm? Oh, I'm just tired." He cracked a smile. "And listening to the sounds of nature." It wasn't a complete lie.

"If you're worried about Kinthal, we'll face him soon."

"Oh, I know." That was the least of his worries. If he had killed those farmers, then this was the second time something like this had happened. The only reason he knew that the first time had an occurred was when another slave–

"Cyldris?"

He looked at him, alarmed. "Hm? What?"

Ondolemar slightly tilted his head. "Are you alright? You seemed to have drifted off somewhere."

"Uh, yeah." Cyldris tried to smile reassuringly. "I'm fine."

"You're lying." He bluntly stated.

"I, uh…." Unable to look at those golden eyes anymore, he looked away. He needed to be honest and to do that was to start from the very beginning. Whether he wanted to or not. "I, uh, I killed a Thalmor."

"What? When?" His tone was of surprise. Not of anger.

"Thirty years ago, when I was twenty, I was a slave and…I-I blacked out. I don't remember. I just remember coming to and he was dead. I stabbed him repeatedly. Another slave found me over the body and helped me escaped." He swallowed down a knot. "I remember he threatened to have me tortured for breaking a plate. A plate. He just liked watching us suffer…. That was the only time I blacked out." At least he hoped it was.

"Curious," his companion murmured. "Ambassador Elenwin's husband was murdered by his slave around that same time. An elf named Cydorn Thornheart stabbed him to death."

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his birth name. The last time he heard it was thirty years ago. He kept his gaze low.

"She's had a bounty on his head since."

Cyldris blood turned cold, regretting his confession.

"You are Cydorn Thornheart, aren't you?" He coldly accused.

Feeling to cold stare upon him, he was unable to lie. "Yes…. I am."

"Do you know what your bounty is?"

"No…."

"Fifteen thousand Septims."

He meekly looked at him with a lame smirk. "You're going to sell me out, aren't you?"

Ondolemar waved a hand. "Gods, no."

He frowned. "You paid your debt when you killed that Dunmer. Fifteen thou–"

"Yes, but now we have Kinthal to worry about."

"What's the catch?"

Ondolemar looked at him. "Catch? There is no catch."

His eyes snapped open. "She's offering 15,000 coins for my head and you are going to let it go?" Money was never a concern for him, for he preferred to live off the land, but he was well aware how it was for many.

"Would you rather me throw you in shackles and lead you to Elenwin?" He scoffed. "Please. Besides, I'm not part of the Thalmor anymore and if I did want to sell you out, I would be also be seen as a traitor to the Thalmor and be killed. You have no choice, but to trust me because I don't want that fate befalling me."

They fell into a moment of thoughtful silence.

"Ondolemar?" Cyldris carefully asked.

"Yes?"

He was unable to look at him. "If you do betray me, promise me you won't take me to Elenwin. Just kill me, okay? She'll torture me to death." He noticed the Altmer look at him.

"What did I just say?"

Cyldris met his gaze. "Please."

Ondolemar sighed, looking ahead of himself. "If I were to betray you, I would slit your throat, then proceed to cut off your head for proof. If you betray me for any reason, I wouldn't blame you."

He laughed, but it was hollow. "I can't betray my friends."

They fell into a longer silence.

The walk to the Reach was long, but eventually the silence wore off as they would share light conversation. Cyldris began to hate how stunning the Altmer was in the sunlight. He was like a creature of the Sun itself. His pale-blond hair flowed over his shoulders and his fine, narrow features should be painted for a portrait. His yellow skin was even kissed by the sun. His eyes were pools of liquid gold, drowning the poor Wood Elf in their riches. How could a creature of the Sun walk a path of darkness and hatred? How could a being such as Cyldris himself pine for such beauty? He knew the Altmer were very proud of their race and is this why? Did they also compare their beauty to the Sun? Was Cyldris finally understanding his inferiority to such a superior race? He hated that he was attracted to an Altmer, let alone a former Thalmor. He knew if his companion did have a change of mind, he'd have a knife to this throat, or worse, shackled once more and led to a horrific death. He needed to keep his heart to himself. Like the sun, he needed to be cautious in the Altmer's presence.

It took them a couple of hours to arrive at the bronze gates of Markarth. Cyldris was about to approach the stoned steps, but Ondolemar grabbed his hand to stop him. He looked up at him companion.

"I do not wish to stay here," Ondolemar stated. "Too many people may recognize me."

Cyldris nodded, understanding. "I'll see if anyone sells camping gear and then we'll go straight to Karthwasten."

"Good idea. I'll wait here." He released him.

The Bosmer entered the city of stone. It was such a unique and fascinating city. Like everyone else, it made him wonder what the Dwarves' technology was like, but he didn't dwell on it too much. He preferred trees and grass over stone. He went straight to the shop and to his luck, they did sell camping gear. He bought two bed rolls, but they didn't have a horse to help carry a tent. He returned to his waiting friend, handing him a bedroll. "A horse would help with a tent, but I'm sure we can find shelter under the trees if needed."

Ondolemar took a bed roll and strapped it on top of his own knapsack. "I was wondering if you travel so much, why don't you have a horse?"

"Oh, uh, I had to leave Theo in Whiterun due to my arrest. She could have been sold by now for all I know." He really missed that horse. He did buy her when he first arrived to the land several years ago and they traveled all over the land together.

"Ah. I'm sorry." He looked at the stable, pulled out his coin purse from a pouch on his hip and felt the weight of it. "I may have enough to buy a horse, but I'll think about it on our way back."

"If you buy a horse, I will buy the tent. Ready?"

"Yes. Let's find out who this Kinthal is."

They began to head north, following the river. Aware that they were entering Forsworn territory, they kept their guard up. To their relief, the main road towards the mining settlement was clear. Going up the hill by Karthwasen, Cyldris inhaled, preparing for whatever they may face. He gestured to Ondolemar to lay low while he removed his pack and stashed it by rocks, then went climbing up the rocky hill. The Bosmer pulled out his bow and removed an arrow from his quiver at his hip. Aiming, he shot a woman in the head– killing her instantly. It didn't take long for the skilled archer to take out an entire camp, only leaving a frightened leader. Pleased with his work, Cyldris holstered his bow, hopped down the rocks, and stood before Kinthal.

"Impressive," Ondolemar called, joining his side.

"Thank you." He didn't take his eyes off the leader, who was wielding a golden greatsword with the same helmet that the Dunmer assassin was wearing. "Kinthal, I assume?"

"Y-You're the Unbeliever?" Kinthal, a large Redguard dressed in furs stammered; eyes wide in terror. "You killed all my men!"

he ignored his last stated. "What do you mean? Who are you and why are you trying to kill me?" He pulled out the golden axe from his hip. "And what material are these made from?"

Kinthal barked a laugh, then beginning to truly laugh. "Such nonsense! He acts as if he doesn't know!"

"I don't!" He pleaded.

"Mania calls, you simpleton! And you will listen!" He charged towards the Bosmer, who drew both axes and swiftly stepped out of the way.

Cyldris didn't mind going against large weapons because they were slow and he was quick. With Kinthal's back to him, he quickly buried both axes into the back of the man, sending him down to his knees, then on the ground– dead. He stood up, wiped the blood off his axes on the Redgaurd's furs, and holstered his weapons. "Mania? This keeps getting stranger and stranger…." He turned to the back of the camp where a stone shrine stood. He approached it, finding a stone bust of a man. "Sheogorath?"

Ondolemar joined him. "Yes. I've studied Daedra for the Thalmor."

There was a red, leather-bound journal sitting on the shrine along with soul gems and food. He opened it. "It's Kinthal's."

"What does it say?"

"Um…." He flipped to the entry from two days ago. "'The Mad God gave me a vision. A vision of the Unbeliever walking with a Thalmor. The Mad God blesses him and he ignores the calls. We must kill him before the Seducers do! Svarig thinks he will have the Unbeliever's head? Ha! I laugh at that lie. Death shall be the Unbeliever's punishment….'" Cyldris looked at Ondolemar. "What does this mean? Unbeliever? Why am I an unbeliever?"

"Sounds like Sheogorath gave him a vision about us, too."

"But how? Why?" His voice was getting more shriller with each question out of frustration. "I don't understand! And who is Svarig and the Seducers?"

His companion held out a hand. "May I?"

Cyldris gave him the journal, walking away to breathe. His head was spinning. Sheogorath. Mania– too many names and none were making any sense to him! What does Sheogorath what with him, anyway? He was a devout follower to Auri-El!

"Cyldris."

He returned to his companion.

"'Outside of the Forsaken Cave is where Svarig is held up. Four of my Saints have tried to kill them and all but one ended up dead. He cannot find the Unbeliever before me.' This was written the four days ago." He looked at him.

Cyldris racked his brain. "Forsaken Cave. Any idea where that is?" Despite traveling for several years in Skyrim, he still had yet to learn every cave and ruined keep across the land.

Ondolemar hummed, then shook his head. "No. I do not." He closed the journal.

"Dammit," he hissed, looking away.

"Perhaps, they will find us like these Saints did?"

Cyldris folded his arms, pondering. He did not like the idea of risking another assassination.

"Let's go back to Markarth, get a room, and think about our next move from there." Ondolemar held out the journal. "You may want to keep this."

"Yes. Of course." He took the journal and walked back to his knapsack with Ondolemar at his side.

"Cyldris?"

"Yes?"

"This may be a ridiculous question, but are you alright?"

He stashed the journal in the pack and threw it over his back. "Just…Why me? I am so confused. I have more questions than before."

Ondolemar placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I understand. You will not be doing this alone."

He turned to him. "But your debt–"

He smiled. "Debt? You truly think I stayed because of the debt? Yes, I did already save your life, but I want to join you because I want to. I've been trying to tell you that."

Cyldris was puzzled. "Thank you."

"Of course. Ready?"

"Yes. I wish to leave this place."

They walked down the steep slope back down to the road.

"You're a skilled hunter," Ondolemar commented.

Cyldris smirked. "I don't want to boast, but I am skilled at the hunt, yes."

"You shot them all without being seen. The only reason they noticed someone was around was because bodies kept dropping." He chuckled. "I am glad we're on the same side."

"Me too." He smiled up at the former Thalmor. Despite their previous conversation about possible betrayal, he did enjoy the Altmer's company. "Thank you for being here with me. I am glad I am not doing this alone."

"Of course," Ondolemar kindly replied.

Despite Ondolemar's hesitation of being in the city, they rented two rooms at the Silver-Blood Inn in Markarth. Ondolemar tried his best not to be recognized, but that was easier said than done. The innkeeper commented who he was, then the Altmer quickly retired to his room, leaving Cyldris to mingle with some of the other patrons. He also managed to get a rough location for Forsaken Cave from an off-duty guard, but unfortunately it was somewhere in Winterhold. After dinner, he retired to his room and began reading more from the journal. None of it made sense because it was just ramblings of a borderline madman obsessed with Sheogorath and Mania until he started talking about the Unbeliever. It sounded like the Unbeliever was almost like a prophecy or warning of some sort. It didn't make sense in these writings. Half the things didn't make sense in this journal….

So! The voice of Auri-El boomed in his mind. The Unbeliever found the journal and yet still nothing? Not even an inkling of an idea? How sad!

Auri-El, Cyldris sighed. I don't understand. What does any of this mean?

The god laughed. Oh, where's the fun in tellin' ya that, little mortal?

Please! I don't want to be associated to a Daedra! Only to You!

…You really don't know yet. His voice dropped a tone. How sad indeed…. Dear, sweet Cyldris. You will learn. They always do…. Now, go to sleep! His voice perked up. You have quite the adventure ahead of yourself! Ha-ha! Good night!

The Bosmer jolted awake, finding that he had fallen asleep at the desk over the open jounral. Sighing, he got out of his clothes, blew out the candles, then went to bed.

Chapter Text

After breakfast, the Altmer and Bosmer began to travel north towards Morthal. Ondolemar did end up buying the paint horse, so he rode the horse while Cyldris steadily walked alongside. Their spirits were up and the conversations were light. Cyldris didn't mention his conversation with Auri-El since there wasn't much to speak of. It did make him wonder, though. The god seemed to know what being the Unbeliever meant, but as always, was very vague. He hoped the answer would lie by Forsaken Cave. He was relieved that the location wasn't inside the cave itself.

Following the path, they came across Robber's Gorge, the bandit camp that had saved Cyldris's life. A couple of bandits were about to take aim with arrows just as Ondolemar was about to summon a spell, but Cyldris quickly had his friend lower his defense as the bandits’ lowered their own arrows, recognizing the Bosmer. They allowed him and his companion to safely pass with smiles.

"Where are you going now, friend?" The Kahjiit called from the walkway over the road. "This one thought you were going to Morrowind."

"I am!" Cyldris smiled, stopping to speak. "But an assassin tried to end my life and I must find out why. I am unfamiliar with these enemies, so I am traveling to a location by Forsaken Cave."

"Cyldris," Ondolemar hissed under his breath.

"The Dark Brotherhood?" The Khajiit pondered.

Cyldris shook his head. "No. They are…much different. It is quite hard to explain."

"Tss," he hissed. "No need to explain. Just stay safe, my friend. I pray you shall find warm sands after you put an end to these assassins."

"Thank you. Farewell!" He waved to his friend with a smile and the travelers continued on their way.

"Why did you say that?" Ondolemar seethed once out of earshot.

"They are my friends."

"You trust too easily,” he scolded.

"I trust until I need a reason not to trust."

Ondolemar fell silent.

As they continued their journey, they had to change into warmer clothing that they had bought in the morning for the trip. The temperatures were quickly dropping as it was starting to snow. Once they were on the other side of the mountains, they were hoping to arrive at Morthal sooner than later.

"I hate the snow," Ondolemar grumbled.

"I find it beautiful, but too cold," Cyldris replied. 

After another two hours, they finally arrived at the lonesome city of Morthal. It was far too marshy and cold for the elves' tastes, but they quickly went straight to the Moorside Inn and rented a room. Cyldris asked anyone for a more precise location of Forsaken Cave and, fortunately, the innkeeper did know. She lived in Windhelm for a couple of years, so she heard some of the landmarks in that region. With a literal X now on his tattered map, he felt confident in their quest. The pair tried to rent two rooms, but there was only one room available with a large bed. At least there was a hot bath available in the cellar. After a hot meal and drink, Ondolemar first went to take a bath, then it was Cyldris' turn. He didn't know how long he soaked in the soothing tub for. He got dressed in relatively clean clothes and went back to the room finding Ondolemar reading, but crammed so close to the edge, that he was sure the Altmer was going to fall off in the middle of the night if he stayed there. He closed the door. "I won't touch you at all,” he reassured.

"I know," Ondolemar stated without looking at him as he turned the page. "I won't do so either."

Cyldris went to his side of the bed, noticing the Altmer watching him. "Can I help you?"

"You look strange with your hair down like that."

His damp hair went down to his neck with a part in the middle. He smirked, climbing into bed. "I don’t like my hair down, so this is the only way you’ll ever see it like this.” He blew out the candle on his nightstand.

"Goodnight, Ondolemar."

Ondolemar closed his book. "Goodnight." He blew out his own candle.

It was a dreamless and visionless night for Cyldris. In the morning, the pair got dressed, ate breakfast, then went to the general goods shop that was recently built. To their luck, camping gear was sold. With very little coin left, but with a new tent, they were back on the icy roads heading east. Their spirits weren't as high as they were yesterday due to the snowy and freezing weather. They were bundled with scarfs around their faces and hoods on their thick coats. They didn't speak much.

The weather slowed them down as the roads were coated over with snow and ice, but they pushed on. The weather made the journey roughly over two hours long. Both elves summoned small fire spells to keep close to themselves. Fortunately, the horse didn't seem bothered by the cold at all. 

They finally arrived at Forsaken Cave that was on their left. Cyldris folded the map up and slipped it back inside the saddlebag for easy access. "The camp should be around here."

Ondolemar halted the horse, looking towards the right. "Cyldris.”

Clydris followed his companion’s gaze just south of the cave, finding multiple tracks leading to and from the campsite that was tucked away behind trees. 

Ondolemar slid off the horse. "Ready?"

"Yes. I hope to have some more answers."

"There doesn't seem a place for you to take cover from."

"No, so we must be careful." He unholstered his axes. "Are you ready?"

Ondolemar's hands glowed with electric spells. "Ready."

The pair approached the snowy trees and Ondolemar sent out a bolt of electricity, sending a bandit on the ground, crumpled and twitching.

Cyldris charged in, noticing their armor was not a shiny gold, but a strange, dull black-purple color. He slashed at a bandit, who tried to take a swing at him with a mace.

"It's the Unbeliever!" A man roared. "He is mine!"

The Bosmer made direct eye contact with a Nord wearing a strange dark helmet. "Svarig, I assume!"

Svarig snarled with a twinkle of madness in his pale eyes as he wielded a battleaxe. "You assume correctly!" He unleashed a battle cry as he charged, but like Kinthal, Cyldris simply stepped aside and dodged the slow swings of the large weapon. He knew Ondolemar was holding his own by the sound of spells zapping and exploding. The nibble-footed wood elf darted behind his opponent and slammed both axes down in a spin like he did with Kinthal. The golden blade landed at the base of the spine, just below the helmet. He turned to Ondolemar, finding him in the snow with a man standing over him with a mace raised. Cyldris's eyes grew. He dropped both axes, sprinted towards the bandit, tackled him, and quickly wrapped his fingers around his throat.

"…Cyldris, he's dead!" 

Cyldris blinked, finding the man's head lulling back with his dark eyes frozen open and glazed over. He immediately released the dead man and scrambled off him. "I-I–" He turned to his friend, who had a bloodstain on his left shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. He got me, but I managed to use a healing spell thanks to your…distraction." He looked at the dead man. "You strangled the life of him.”

"He was going to kill you.”

Ondolemar looked at him. "I didn't think you'd be capable of…such an act."

"He was going to kill you," he repeated. He blinked, stepping back in fright. "I…I don't remember…." He looked back at the dead man in the snow. "I just remember tackling him, then you calling me. I don't….”

"You don't remember killing him?”

"No. It’s a blur…." His gut knotted. He knew deep down it happened again. The dream from the other night haunted him. Did he really kill the farmers?

"Let's go see if there's another journal." The Altmer calmly walked away.

Cyldris stepped away from the dead man and joined his friend’s side; approaching an identical stone table in the back of the camp that also had the bust of Sheogorath. There was another journal, but after flipping through it, it was just as vague as Kinthal's, just from the "Seducers'" point-of-view about the same situation of the Unbeliever. There were no hints or clues as to what was happening or where these people came from. It was a sudden dead end, but hopefully there weren't going to be anymore campsites and assassination attempts. He allowed Ondolemar to look over the journal while he went to inspect the dark helmet that the leader was wearing. It was also made from a material that he had never seen before. It wasn't too matte or shiny and there seemed to be a purple tint to it. He found a matching ax in a dead bandit's hand and removed it. It was a bit heavier than the golden one. He found his discarded golden ax in the snow, picked it up, and swung both axes. The weight was slightly off, but it was something he could adjust to. He liked having the two unique weapons, so he left the steel ax behind and replaced it with the dark one.

"Are you ready to press on?” Ondolemar suddenly asked, earning the Bosmer’s attention. “We can leave for Morrowind in the morning. Forget all of this ever happened.”

Clydris smiled at him. "I like that idea.” He wasn’t sure if it was something he could so easily forget, but at least he could try to move on from this. “Let's go. Shall we stay in Windhelm for the night?"

"Yes. I need a warm bath after this,” he grumbled.

They returned to Ondolemar's waiting horse and pressed through the bitter weather. 

Cyldris tried to stay positive that they were going to be at their destination tomorrow morning, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of blacking out once again. He tried to remember after tackling the man, but it was blurry. He didn’t even realize he was strangling him until he came to. He hugged himself.

They arrived at the Windhelm stables just by the bridge leading to the city. Ondolemar paid a fee to the quartermaster to look after his horse. 

“Are you alright?” His friend gently asked once they were on the icy bridge. “It’s unnerving to have you quiet for so long.” 

“It scares me that I blacked out like that,” he quietly confessed. For the last half-hour of their journey, Cyldris had barely spoken a word, lost in his own mind and fears. 

They fell silent until they opened the gates to the icy-stoned city of Windhelm. At a time, the city was once home to Dunmer and racist Nords. Now it’s home to Dunmer, some racist Nords, and somewhat happier Argonians. They entered the city of ice and stone and went to the Candlehearth Hall straight ahead where they rented two rooms and ordered food and drink. They took their meal upstairs to a table in a quiet corner. It was great to be out of the snow and out of thick coats and scarfs.

“So,” Ondolemar began with a small smile, “Blacklight is the closest city in Morrowind from here. I say we stay there for a couple of days and not worry about traveling for a while.”

Cyldris lit up at the thought. “That sounds like a wonderful plan. Do you plan on journeying together or separately?” He was used to journeying alone, but the last couple of days have been somewhat fun in a chaotic way. 

“I was hoping together.”

His heart swelled with joy as he grinned. “Great!”

Ondolemar frowned. “So, tell me about these blackouts….”

Cyldris’ lips twitched. “What?”

“You said you were in a blackout when you killed your former master. Do you know what triggers them?” 

He shook his heading, frowning. “No….” He looked away in shame. “If you feel as though I am a danger to you, I understand.”

Ondolemar waved his hands with a shake of his head. “No, not by any means. I am just concerned. For you.”

Cyldris looked at his friend’s eyes. The candle on the table reflected in his golden eyes, making the wood elf hitch his breath. “Thank you,” he softly replied. 

His friend solemnly nodded. “Of course. So, do you know what triggers them?”

“I don’t know,” he lamely confessed. “I wish I knew, though. I would like them to stop despite how rare they are.”

“Black outs could be a way the subconscious protects you from something traumatic. Perhaps in your fit of killing, it is a way to protect you.”

“It only happened two times that I know of– killing Loraeth and that Seducer that was going to kill you. As for the farmers, I truly have no idea what even happened.” He sighed. “Ondolemar, I fear I may put you in harm’s way–”

Ondolemar placed a hand over his own, silencing him with a flush coming across his face. “I do not fear for my safety. It may be a way your mind protects you. Maybe those farmers were not all that good and your subconscious knew it and protected you from remembering the murder. You killed two people who were going to you and myself harm. I do not believe you are a terrible person, Cydlris.”

“You have such hope….” He hoped his friend did not notice the warm blush he felt.

“Well,” he faintly smirked, removing his hand from his own, “you have yet tried to kill me.”

Cyldris couldn’t help, but to smile at the morbid thought even though it scared him. As long as his friend trusted him, then he needed to trust himself. The reason why he killed the farmers may never be answered and perhaps his friend was right. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. Maybe they were going to cause harm to him and his mind blocked it out. That thought certainly made him feel better.    

The memory came rushing back like a flash flood. He was in danger. He didn’t know why, but had to fight for his life. When he came to, there was a dead body of the farmer and his wife that had saved his life and blood on his hands. The dagger was embedded in the farmer’s chest.

He did kill them. He killed them both. 

Ho-oh! Auri-El’s voice boomed. It seems that our little Bosmer has finally remembered! Yes, Cyldris, it was you! You killed your own saviors! Ha-ha!

He fell to his knees, gasping for air with terrified eyes. “No…No! Why? Auri-El, tell me! Why?” He screamed, tears streaking down his cheeks as he slammed his fists on the wooden floorboards. “I beg you!”

Really? Even now you don’t understand? Despite carrying axes of both Mania and Dementia, you don’t understand? How…disappointing. You see, little mortal, I am not Auri-El! The crime scene morphed to a strange darkness as a man wearing an embroidered blazer with the right being half and the other being gold. He helped a scepter in his bejeweled right hand. He had short, gray hair and beard, but his eyes were milky white and had a devilish grin upon his face. “I am Lord Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness, and you, Unbeliever, are finally a believer. Now, this is what you’re going to do….”

Cyldris woke up in a cold sweat, panting for air. Tears filled his eyes. He wanted to wake up his friend and spew the whole truth to him, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even speak. He was an absolute monster and he never spoke to Auri-El. He was talking to Sheogorath! A Daedric Prince! How foolish he was to think Auri-El would speak to him. How idiotic he was to think he was worth an Aedra’s time? No, it was Sheogorath. It was always Sheogorath and now, he wields Daedric weapons. He was also a murderer. He murdered those who tried to help him! He did deserve execution. He didn’t deserve Ondolemar’s friendship.

Suddenly exhausted and body heavy, he laid still like a dead weight. Ondolemar would either leave him or betray him. He closed his eyes as tears rolled down and hugged himself. He did remember Sheogorath’s orders and it was foolish to disobey direct orders from a Daedric Prince. 

Chapter Text

Cyldris woke up just after dawn. He got dressed for the day, packed his knapsack, and went out to get a light breakfast and hot tea from the innkeeper. While eating some bread and eggs, he began to think. He did begin to recognize the attraction he had for his companion and noticed he started to have feelings for the Altmer. He wanted to protect him and that had probably caused the blackout. He needed to protect him. He was his only true friend and the thought of losing his life scared him. He only knew him for such a short time, but he would protect him as best as he could. He wanted Ondolemar safe. He wanted Ondolemar to survive. Now, he had discovered he was not speaking with an Aedra, but a Daedra… Ondolemar’s safety was far more important. He himself was already lost. Remembering the orders, he knew Morrowind had to wait for him. 

In the middle of breakfast, Ondolemar approached him. “Good morning,” the Altmer pleasantly greeted, sitting beside him. 

“Good morning,” he replied. 

“Are you alright? You’re not your usual, cheery self and that alone is concerning.” When the innkeeper approached him, he ordered a small breakfast himself with some water, then thanked her as she walked away from the counter to drop off the order. 

“My friend,” Clydris was unable to look at him. “I have to stay in Skyrim for a bit longer. Something…came up.”

“Well, that’s cryptic. What is this something that came up?” He suspiciously eyed him. 

He looked at him, but quickly ducked his head down at the sight of a Thalmor agent standing by his companion.
 
“Ondolemar?” A soft voice asked. 

Ondolemar turned to the female Thalmor agent standing by his side, who was lowering her black hood. Her pale-blonde hair was twisted in a simple braid and her eyes were large as the two moons.

“Commander!” She gasped. “Where have you been?”

He inhaled a calming breath. “It’s a long story, Niryal.”

Niryal’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been missing for days and that’s all you can say?” She glared at Cyldris. “Who is this man?”

“He’s my slave,” he bluntly answered.

Cyldris glanced at him. He knew it was a lie, but hoped that his friend knew what he was doing. 

“Slave?” The Thalmor scoffed. “Since when? Last I remember, Commander, you do not have slaves.”

“Are you questioning me, Niryal?” His voice was that of ice.

The agent stiffened. “No, Sir, but you have been missing for days. We have all been on the lookout for your whereabouts. I need to escort you to the Thalmor Embassy immediately. These are direct orders from Elenwen. If you do not comply, I will be forced to kill you for betraying the Thalmor. I don’t want it to come to that.” 

Ondolemar inhaled. “Then I shall comply. Allow him to finish his breakfast and for us to pack our things, then we’ll be with you.”

She dipped her head with a sigh of relief. “Very good, Commander.”

Once Cyldris finished eating, they calmly returned to their rooms to get their bags, got dressed in their winter coats, then returned to the waiting Thalmor. Cyldris couldn’t look at her as his heart was pounding. If there was a moment that he needed to trust Ondolemar with his life, this was it.  
 
“Follow me.” She pulled up her hood, turned on her heel, and left the inn.

Cyldris glanced at Ondolemar, who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before they both pulled up their own hoods and followed the agent out of the stone city. 

“I have a horse,” Ondolemar told her. 

When they arrived at the stables, Clydris seamlessly slipped into the submissive role without being prompted and prepared the horse for another journey while Ondolemar waited. Once ready, he led the paint horse to his companion. “Your horse…Master.” The title made him want to vomit. 

“Thank you.” The Altmer effortlessly jumped on the horse just as the other Thalmor straddled a palomino. He offered a hand to Cyldris. 

Silently, Cyldris took hold of his forearm and was heaved up on the back of the horse. He wrapped his arms around Ondolemar’s narrow waist. He felt his face warm up at being so close to the Altmer. If his ancestors saw him trusting their mortal enemy to this extent, they would think of him mad. 

“He’d slow us down if he were to walk,” Ondolemar coldly explained. 

The agent shrugged and led the way towards the west. 

They traveled in silence, only stopping to give their horses breaks. Being a good “slave”, Cyldris would tend to their nameless horse. It felt like their whole journey had all been for naught. At least the weather was better than it was when they first came through as they were retracing their steps from yesterday’s journey. All day they traveled. Upon the sight of the capitol city of Solitude across the bay, Cyldris’ grip tightened around Ondolemar’s waist. 

Ondolemar subtly and gently rubbed his hand in reassurance. 

Cyldris fought the urge to rest his head on his friend’s back. He just wanted to be told that everything was okay even if it was a lie. 

They traveled through Dragon Bridge, following the road up the mountain to the Thalmor Embassy. Cyldris’s heart quickened. He tried to calm his breathing before he was sent into a panic attack. He needed to trust his friend with his life. He did trust his friend with his life.  

When they arrived at the front gates of the Embassy, Cyldris hopped off the horse with shaky legs. Ondolemar noticed that he had nearly fallen and gently brushed Cyldris’ lower back as they followed the agent up to the front doors. They entered the warm main hall.

“I may take your coats,” a Bosmeri woman said, approaching them.

They both gave her their coats and she stepped aside as if waiting for orders.

Cyldris wanted to thank her, but was unable to speak. 

“Wait here.” Niryal disappeared out of the door in front of them.

Once the door closed, Cyldris began to fidget.

Ondolemar firmly grabbed his shoulders. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, but his eyes were wide like a terrified animal. He couldn’t control his breathing. 

“I will not let her take you, do you understand?” When he didn’t respond, Ondolemar cupped his face. “Do you trust me?” He calmly, but firmly whispered.

“Yes,” he breathed, gazing into those kind, but worried golden eyes. He didn’t want to think how they would look at him once he told the truth about Sheogorath.  

The back door opened to Lady Elenwin along with two justicars and Ondolemar immediately stood like a soldier with his hands behind his back while Cyldris kept his head low. Her pale eyes were soulless and if looks could kill, both of the elves’ hearts would cease to beat. “Good evening…Commander.”

“Ambassador,” Ondolemar politely greeted.

“Tell me. You were supposed to be hunting for Talos worshippers days ago. What was the detour? A ‘long story’ isn’t going to cut it.” 

“My squad and I were attacked. I was the sole survivor, but I was wounded. I would have died if this man hadn’t saved my life. I was in debt to him. My garments were ruined from the blood of my wound, so I was forced to exchange them for commoner clothing, but I still carry my medallion to show my position in the Thalmor. I am still loyal to the Thalmor.”

Cyldris kept telling himself that all of those words were a lie.

“Really? Because it seems you’ve been sidelined on your mission. Why didn’t you write?”

“I did. When we arrived in Morthal I wrote letters entailing my current position. You didn’t receive them?”

“No.” She glared at the Bosmer for a moment before grabbing his chin, making him look into her burning eyes. “I recognize that little shit’s face anywhere.” She roughly released him. “Remove your shirt so I know it is you, murderer!”

Cyldris straightened himself, meeting her deathly gaze. “No need,” he hollowly replied. “I am exactly who you think I am, Elenwin.” His own voice was darker than he was used to. 

“Send this man to the dungeon!” She shouted to the Justicar. 

“Wait!” Ondolemar stepped forward. “He’s my slave! I will have you do no such thing!”

Elenwin glared at him, pointing at the Bosmer. “This is Cydorn Thornheart! The one who murdered my husband– your superior! He has the brand on his shoulder if you do not believe–”

“I know who he is, but he is my slave.”

She lowered her hand. “Then I shall bring you your reward for bringing him to me.”

“There is no reward. He is my slave.” 

She glared at him, jaw tightening. “Then I shall buy him.” 

“He’s not for sale.”

Elenwin took a step forward to him. “He murdered my husband in cold blood. If you keep him around, he will do the same to you. How did you make him your slave, Commander? I have known you for a long time and you are not the type of man to have slaves.”

“Once he told me who he was, he feared I’d sell him out to you– knowing about the bounty on his head. Since I was in debt to him, I promised I would protect him if he became my slave. I am still loyal to the Thalmor, Elenwin, but I made a promise in exchange for saving my life. He willingly became my slave.”

That was an excellent lie, Cyldris mentally applauded.

She stepped back. “I see. So why didn’t you return to your duties with your new…slave?”

“There was a threat against the Thalmor. I was following leads. As I said, I was hoping you received my letters. I sent another one last night while in Windhelm. I cannot explain where these letters went.”

“What threat?”

“Growing Talos worshippers. They’re part of the same group that attacked my squad.”

Elenwin hummed. “I see. I did receive the reports of finding out men dead and that you were MIA. Since you have had a long day, we shall speak more tomorrow. I shall have dinner brought to your room.” She turned to the Bosmeri woman. “Take Commander Ondolemar to one of the guest rooms. His slave may go to the slave quarters.”

“He stays with me,” Ondolemar said.

Elenwin was taken aback as she turned to him. “There’s only one bed.”

“That is no issue.”

Her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits, “He’s that sort of slave, isn’t he, Commander?” 

“I confess, I do have needs, but he knows I will never bed him. He is for…simpler pleasures.”

Cyldris glanced at him, then to the Ambassador.

The Ambassador chortled, glancing at the silent Bosmer for a second. “He’s going to kill you in your sleep, Commander. He stabbed my husband without batting an eye. Keeping him so close? That’s suicide. The reward of 15,000 Septims remains, but right now, you and your slave may stay in one of the guest rooms.”

“This way, Commander,” the Bosmeri woman said. She led them through the back door, up the stairs, then took a right down the hall to the bedroom at the far end on the right. She opened the door to a lovely, grand bedroom, allowing the guests inside. “Shall I get you anything besides dinner? It’s salmon if that is alright.” She hung up their coats in the wardrobe by the bed. 

“That’s fine and red wine, please,” Ondolemar answered. 

She dipped her head before taking her leave, closing the door behind. 

Cyldris walked away, hugging himself. “A slave….”

“I deeply apologize for the degrading statements I said. I never–”

He turned to him. “Why did you keep the amulet?”

Ondolemar blinked, puzzled by the sudden question. “The amulet is a symbol of my position. If I were to be recognized by another Thalmor, I could get away with my disappearance by saying I was under Thalmor business without seeming that I turned traitor.” 

“I thought it was because you struggled to part with your old ways.”

He sighed, looking away. “Yes, that is…also accurate.”

Cyldris looked around the bedroom. “How are we going to get out of here?” 

“I don’t know, but I will think of a plan. As of right now, I am tired and hungry…and in need of wine. I’m sure you feel the same.”

“I do,” he agreed.

It didn’t take long for their food and drink to arrive on a silver platter. They sat at the little table in the corner and Cyldris poured the wine. 

“Cyldris,” Ondolemar gently said. “You don’t have to act like a slave when it’s just us.”

“If I get too comfortable, I may forget my place, then we’re both dead.” He set the bottle down.

They began to eat the delicious meal in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Cyldris never had such a gourmet meal before in his life. It was different to taste such a fine dish. Once they both finished, the Bosmer automatically returned everything on the tray. “Would you like a bath prepared?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

He picked up the tray, looking his friend in the eye. “Yes or no.”

“Yes, but only to play the part.”

He dipped his head and left with the tray in hand.

Once it was Clydris’s turn to bathe in the hot bath, it wasn’t as soothing as he had hoped. His bath was filled with stress and anxiety from the position that he and his friend were in, Sheogorath, and now there were rumors defaming his friend. He returned to the bedroom dressed in a quilted robe, pants, and boots along with damp hair. He found Ondolemar laying in bed with a book in hand. Cyldris’ heart was heavy as he closed the door. “They speak rumors of you– that you’re fucking a Bosmer.” 

“Let them speak,” Ondolemar grumbled.

“It’s tarnishing your name.”

He lowered his book, looking at him. “They are rumors based on a lie and a name that I know longer care for.”

Cyldris nodded, remembering their own lie. It made him nauseous at how easily he accepted that he was a slave once more. He walked to the wardrobe by his friend, opened the doors, and slid the robe off. Feeling Ondolemar’s gaze on him, he turned to him. 

“I was not aware that you had a brand,” he quietly commented. 

He hung up the robe, closing the wardrobe. “I wasn’t planning on telling you unless you saw it yourself.” He knew there would probably be a time where his friend would see the brand on the back of his right shoulder with the initials A. L., but wanted to keep it hidden as long as he could. It no longer mattered now. 

“Aldoral Laeren was a cruel man. I didn’t realize that he branded his slaves.”

“I try not to think about it too much.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I must ask: Aren’t you tempted to sell me out? Even a little? You’d have fifteen thou–”

Ondolemar shook his head, looking him in the eye. “No. I cannot betray the only person that I truly trust with my life. You spared me when you could’ve killed me with every right, too. You give me hope for a new life, Cyldris. You gave me a second chance to live a life I never dreamed of living.”

He flushed at such words. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just know my loyalty is with you.”

Cyldris anxiously looked away, rubbing his arm. “Um, there is…something I have to tell you.”

Ondolemar frowned, but still patient. “What is it?”

“It wasn’t Auri-El I was speaking with,” he softly murmured, “it was Sheogorath.”

“...Pardon?” 

He sat on the edge of the bed beside his friend and explained everything from the visions to the conversations he had over the years, including one from their stay in Markarth. “Also, the golden axe is from Mania and the dark one is from Dementia. He also told me that to find out more, I have to go to Crystaldrift Cave, but I am unsure where that is.”

Ondolemar stared at him, taking in all the information that was dumped on him. 

“And…that’s not all….” 

“There’s more?” He stoically questioned, still processing.

The wood elf hung his head. “I did kill the farmers. I remember now. I killed them out of fright, but I don’t know what scared me so.”

He stared at him with brows furrowed. “I thought we established that?”

“Yes, but it is…confirmed now.”

Ondolemar ran a hand through his hair, looking away.

“I understand if–”

The Altmer held up a hand, making the smaller elf close his mouth. He rubbed his face. “I cannot believe this. This is…too much.” He looked back at him. “You said Sheogorath was speaking to you, yes?”

“Yes. He has been contacting me for several years. I believed him to be Auri-El–”

“When did he first contact you?”

“When I escaped the Thalmor thirty years ago.”

“He is the Prince of Madness for a reason, Cyldris. I believe that He and these blackouts are linked. Being the Unbeliever, the assassins, the blackouts– Sheogorath speaking directly to you– Something is happening and you are in the middle of it.”

“Why me?” He desperately cried, leaping to his feet. “All I want in life is-is peace and harmony! I want none of this! None! I never wanted to converse with Daedra! I loved Auri-El! I–”

Ondolemar got out of bed and placed a firm hand on the Bosmer’s narrow chest. “Breathe.” 

Cyldris obeyed, taking in a deep breath, wondering if it was going to be his last due to his friend sending a direct electric bolt straight into his chest. 

“You killed two innocent people in a fit of madness,” Ondolemar said, without taking his eyes from him. “You also killed the Thalmor Ambassador's husband and captain of the Thalmor. I truly believe that Sheogorath may be involved with all of this.”

“But why?” He croaked.

“Whether you wanted this or not is out of the question. This has been happening for decades. You are chosen by the Mad-God for a reason.” He stared into his soul, making the wood elf feel small. “A daedric prince is calling you. I feel that this is an obligation that you cannot ignore and we will find a way to rid you of him. Forever. Together.”

Cyldris wanted to argue, but instead, he sighed, averting his gaze. “You’re right. I have no choice, but to face it. Even if I did ignore this…I do not want to think of the consequences.” 

“Cyldris.”

He looked up at Ondolemar’s gentle eyes. 

“I will be at your side.”

Cyldris wanted to cry in relief. He took his friend’s hand that was still pressed against this chest. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I do not know what I owe you for–”

Ondolemar removed his hand from the Bosmer’s chest and placed it on his shoulder. “You owe me nothing. I blame those murders on Sheogorath. Not you. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“I want to help you as a true friend. Now, shall we go to bed?”

Cyldris softly smiled, nodding. “Yes.”

Ondolemar returned to bed as Cyldris climbed on his side of the bed. 

“Good night, Cyldris,” Ondolemar said, before blowing out the candle.

“Good night, Ondolemar.”

Chapter Text

It felt strange that Cyldris was still asleep, but Ondolemar figured with the amount of stress that he was under, he couldn’t blame him. He quietly got dressed, trying not to wake his friend, until a knock on the door caused him to stir. Ondolemar sighed. “Come in.”

The young Bosmeri woman opened the door with a tray of food. “Breakfast is ready, Commander.”

“You can set it down, thank you.”

“Lady Ambassador would like to speak to you in her office after breakfast.” She placed the tray on the table.

“I’ll be there.”

She dipped her head and left with the door closing behind. 

Cyldris got up and stretched. “I should make myself useful. I will clean our clothes today.”

Ondolemar walked to the tray, taking a seat. “You have no obligation to do such things.”

He threw on a clean, blue tunic from the wardrobe. “Yes, but our clothes still need to be cleaned and it won’t be fair to that woman if we ask her to do it.” He joined him at the table. “I am supposed to be your slave.”

He sharply sighed at the reminder of their ploy. “Very well. We will get out of here soon, though, I promise. I just need time to think.”

After a light breakfast of bread, eggs, and fruit, Cyldris began placing everything back on the tray. “I shall return this to the kitchen and then I am going to tidy the bed.”

Ondolemar stood up and went to the door. “I shall not keep Elenwin waiting.”

“Good luck!”

He went through the snowy courtyard to the Ambassador's office to another section of the embassy. There, he found Elenwin at her office behind her desk going through some paper. He closed the door behind him and approached her desk, standing proudly before her. “You wish to see me?” 

“Yes. I am keeping you and your…slave under supervision,” Elenwin stated without removing her gaze from her work. 

“Oh?”

“Since you have Cydorn Thornheart as your slave, I will not let you out of this building. Do I make myself clear?” She raised her head to him with a calculating gaze. 

“Yes.”

“Good.” She lowered the quill. “For thirty years I waited to get my hands on Thornheart. When I found my husband dead in his office, I knew it was that unhinged elf. He is finally within my grasp and you,” she calmly interlocked her fingers together on the desk, “are keeping him from me. Why? And don’t say it’s due to your foolish debt.”

“It is,” he bluntly answered.

“Then what is his life worth? Twenty thousand? Twenty-five thousand Septims? What?” Her voice was getting sharper. 

Ondolemar was silent, unsure how to answer that. He could reply with the price of his own life since Cyldris saved him, but he doubted the Ambassador would care. 

Elenwin sighed. “Here is my proposal: either you give him up to me or I will have you executed for treason against the Thalmor. Do I make myself clear, Commander? He did, after all, kill a captain of the Thalmor and you are protecting this man as a sex slave.” 

Ondolemar remained stoic, but his mind was racing.

“How did that come to be? Did he offer a time of pleasure and you realized how useful he could be?” Her soulless eyes narrowed in judgment. “Or did you find yourself so lonely and desperate that you had to sleep with a Bosmer?”

“He offered. I told him I would never give him pleasure of any kind and he agreed. He said that he would never say no to me since I am protecting him.”

“I see. I never knew that Thornheart was that…compliant. Either way, I’ll give you until tomorrow morning to think of your answer. I hope you give up your toy. He’s not worth dying for.” 

“I understand.”

She picked up the quill, returning to her work. “You are dismissed.”

Ondolemar swiftly turned around and the moment the door closed behind him, he swore under his breath. He went straight back to their room, but Cyldris was not there. He did not want to seem like he was waiting for his “slave”, so he decided to make himself useful to the Thalmor once more, but it was not easy. He noticed his cohorts looking at him in distaint every time he passed. Everytime he tried to give them an order from Elenwin, they would glare at him in resent, but never be brave enough to utter a word. He hoped his friend was fairing better with whatever he was doing today. 

After dinner at six o’clock, he was on his way back to his room, when he heard: “You looked distracted.”

He turned around to Niryal approaching him. “You could say that,” he simply answered, his heart breaking at the sight of her. 

Niryal hummed, then took his hand. She led up the stairs to his own room and opened the door to Cyldris who was reading in the corner. She glared at the wood elf, who meekly stared at them both. “Tell him to get out,” she snapped.

Ondolemar looked at his friend. “Make yourself scarce.”

Cyldris closed his book and silently left the room.

Once the door was closed, Niryal began to unbutton her robes. “So he just sucks your cock or what?”

“Something like that,” he flatly answered.

“Hm.” She slid the robe off, revealing simple clothing underneath. She draped her robe on the back of a chair, smiling at him. “At least I get to properly fuck you.” 

He pleasantly hummed. 

Niryal approached him and kissed him. 

Ondolemar returned the kiss, remembering their nights in Markarth together. He suddenly took her arms, gently pushing her away. “I can’t.”

She arched her brow in confusion. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Niryal, I am tired of these casual nights. I don’t want it to be like this anymore. I want something…more. Something you don’t want.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then ran his hand through his hair. 

She stared at him like he was drunk. “Since when?”

“A while….” He quietly confessed. “It has been…a long time coming. I wasn’t sure how to tell you.” He looked back at her. “For weeks this conversation was ripping at my soul. I am sorry.”

She crossed her arms, shaking her head as she looked away with a crooked smile with a scoff. “Unreal.”

“I enjoyed our time together, but I want–”

“I get it,” she harshly replied, looking back at him. “It’s fine.” She snatched her robe and threw it back on, buttoning it up. “Have fun with that whore, I guess.” She stormed out of the room, harshly closing the door. 

Ondolemar sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He took off his boots and laid on the bed, thinking about everything. It was good to get that confession off his chest, but now he had to figure out an escape plan. After an hour of being alone, there was a soft knock on the door. “Come in.”

Cyldris opened the door with fresh linens in his arms. 

The two friends looked at each other as he closed the door. “That bad?” Cyldris questioned. 

Ondolemar sighed, standing up. “Nothing happened.”

Cyldris placed the linens on an empty bookshelf, approaching his friend. They both sat on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

“Niryal and I would have casual nights together every time she came to Markarth. I got tired of them and always wanted something more. She never did. I finally told her how I felt.”

“Oh…. I’m sorry.” 

“I used to think that I didn’t want a relationship, but I finally accepted that I do and it’s certainly not going to be with her.” He sighed. “Anyway, there is more dire news.”

“What is it?”

Ondolemar forced himself to look at his friend. “Elenwin will have me executed for treason if I do not give you to her. She needs my answer tomorrow and I do not have a plan of escape.” He looked ahead of himself. “I don’t know what to do, Cyldris.”

“…Sell me out.”

“No.”

“I am being called by a daedric prince. I’ve murdered two innocent people. You are turning to a new life. You have hope.”

He looked at him. “So do you.”

Cyldris looked back at him. “No. There is no hope if Sheogorath calls upon you. It’s just madness. I feel as though I am crazy enough already,” he lamely smirked for a brief moment before frowning again. “Sell me out to save yourself, my friend.”

Ondolemar stared into the pleading, crimson eyes of his best friend. “I will be beheaded. You will be tortured to death.”

A soft smile formed on his lips. “At least I will know you have left a life as heartless as the Thalmor. Who knows? Maybe you will meet a Dunmeri woman in Balmora and you can paint while she has her own shop or something.” 

Ondolemar cracked a smirk, but his heart was breaking. “Perhaps.” He wanted to paint while his friend went exploring the new city for the day. He wanted to protect Cyldris from the wrath of Elenwin and the Thalmor. He wanted to face Sheogorath himself to release his friend. He wanted the elf to no longer know a life of being abused and hunted and to truly be free. It made him sick to think that death was the only source of freedom that his best friend would know.

“Or perhaps an orc woman,” Cyldris continued.

Ondolemar looked at him in distaste. 

He frowned. “What? I spent a night with an orc before.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and it was better than you’d think.” 

He blinked. “It was? Wait. How did you spend a night with an orc?”

“It was in High Rock. This orc saved my life from bandits and offered sex in exchange and I certainly didn’t mind his looks, so I obliged.” He chuckled. “It was one of the best nights of my life because I have never been bound during sex before. It’s not my thing, but it was an experience.” He laughed, then slowly frowned. “There was a connection between us. He wanted me to stay. I also wanted to stay, but I couldn’t.”

Ondolemar frowned. “Because you couldn’t stay in one place?”

“Yes.”

He thoughtfully nodded, then snorted. “An orc…. Never would’ve thought.”

“Oh, I slept with Bretons, Redgaurd, and Dunmer. Bosmer, too, of course.”

“I only slept with Altmer as you could’ve guessed.” 

Cyldris looked at him. “Did you love Niryal?”

“No.” He looked ahead of himself. “She was too distant for me. Too standoffish at times.” He frowned, looking at his friend. “I won’t give up. I will stay up all night thinking of a plan if I have to. I promise.”

All Cyldris could do was solemnly nod. 

Ondolemar kept his promise. 

All night he laid awake, staring at the ceiling. He kept trying to think of a plan to get out, but they were surrounded by Thalmor. He thought of taking a potion of invisibility, but if they get caught by a door opening by itself or footprints forming in the snow, then it was over. 

By the time Cyldris got up, he was exhausted. He only slept a few hours. He still didn’t have a plan, but his friend was already out of the room before he was able to greet him. He quickly got dressed to go look for his friend. Once dressed, he was about to leave the room, but just as he placed his hand on the doorknob, there was a knock on the door. He opened it to Elenwin and two Justicars behind her, who were holding two, large bags in each hand. 

“Interesting,” Elenwin began with her hands behind her back. “Thornheart gave himself up. Just now. He is being escorted to the dungeon as we speak.”

Ondolemar’s eyes grew as his heart began to pound loudly in his chest. “What?”

“Your reward, Commander.” She stepped aside for the Justicars to drop the bags of coins on the table and left the Commander and Ambassador. She icily looked back at Ondolemar. “I am glad someone came to their senses. You are free to leave and return to your duties in Morthal.” She left, leaving Ondolemar standing alone in the room with 15,000 Septims while his best friend was getting prepared for a horrific death.

He just stood there, thinking about everything. He knew he could go back to the Thalmor and pretend like nothing had ever happened, but knew he could never do that to himself or to Cyldris. That would be an absolute betrayal, even in death, to his friend. Despite everything Cyldris went through, that man still saw the beauty in everything and kindness in everyone– including a commander of the Thalmor himself. Cyldris saved his life in more than one way. He saved his life, took him on an adventure of a lifetime and now Ondolemar hoped to keep living that adventure with the Thalmor long behind him. Now, Cyldris gave up his life for him. He was going to face a terrible death of suffering and loneliness just to keep him alive. Never had Ondolemar met a man brave, fearless, and selfless as Cyldris Thorn. Never had he met anyone important as Cyldris Thorn was to him. He planned on facing a daedric prince for him.  He would also face death and walk into Oblivion itself if it meant to keep Cyldris safe. 

Determination burned in his heart as he briskly left the room, walked through the Embassy, and straight to the dungeon with the aid of a servant’s directions. Just as he opened the door just as Elenwin was speaking to the prisoner. It appeared the torture hadn’t started yet. He went down the stairs, approaching the ambassador. “Elenwin.”

She turned to him. “Ah, Commander. What brings you here?”

“I wish to speak with him. He gave up his life to save mine. I want to know why.”

“Fair question. You may speak with him.”

He turned to the cell and stood helplessly as his friend looked at him while shackled to the back wall. His shirt was removed and his eyes were filled with darkness. He wanted to pry those shackles off his friend’s wrists and hold him close, but remained stoic. “Why did you sell yourself out?”

“I chose my fate. I didn’t need you to choose it for me.”

Ondolemar accepted his friend’s answer. Knowing there was no way to help him from here, he was about to make his leave. Until he noticed something in an alcove on the floor across the cells. “Where does that hatch lead?” He curiously asked. 

“To a cave,” Elenwin answered. “There is a troll that we feed the corpses to. Once this one finally dies, he will be tossed down there.” She looked at him. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I suppose.” He turned to her. “I will be leaving for Morthal after breakfast. I just needed closure from that man.”

“Understandable, Commander.”

Ondolemar turned and began to walk away, leaving his friend at the mercy of those soulless people. At least he finally found a plan and Cyldris would be safe at his side once more. 

Chapter Text

Cyldris’ breath was ragged. His eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was sore from clenching it so tightly. Warm blood drenched his back. Despite his own misfortune, the only thing he hoped for was for Ondolemar to get as far away from the Thalmor as he could.  

“I waited so many years for this,” Elenwin icily growled. “Do you remember Aldoral?”

“He was horrible,” Cyldris spat, snapping his eyes open, glaring through the wooden wall before him. “He would beat us for noth–” A whip cracked against his flesh. He screamed as tears burned his eyes, but he refused to cry. “I’d kill him again!” 

Another lashing, followed by another, and another.

“He bet he wishes he was choking on Ondolemar’s cock right now,” a justicar mocked. 

“Yes,” Elenwin hollowly agreed, “I bet he does.” She went over to the exhausted prisoner, grabbed his hair to make him look at her, but his eyes were unable to focus from the pain and blurriness of the tears. “Your seduction towards the Commander interests me. You gave up your own life to save him. Why?” When she didn’t get a response, she harshly released him and walked away. “Heal him. I want a clean slate for tomorrow. I am done for the day.”

A justicar was at his side with a golden spell in hand. Warmth flooded his body as he felt the wounds heal and the blood being cleaned off. He knew that the deep wounds would still scar. Healing spells never cured scars. After the prisoner was healed, they reshackled him to face the proper way. Only one justicar stayed as the other returned upstairs. 

Cyldris lamely hung by his wrists and closed his eyes. He tried to think of the happier times with his true friend. He wanted to pray, but was too scared to utter such words, but it was worth a try. He was just relieved that Sheogorath didn’t take souls of the dead. Arkay, he humbly and hesitantly prayed, when I breathe my last, I hope you will take me to eternal peace. Please. That is all that I want. Peace…. Tears silently slid down his face, hoping that it was Arkay who heard him.

Hours passed torturously slowly in the dungeon. Cold, hungry, and sore, Cyldris was forced to hang against the wall. His arms were killing him from being shackled and his body was exhausted from the whipping. He knew it was nighttime when the justicar’s relief came in. He was relieved he wasn’t left alone in a dark room, but there was a bit too much light to add to his discomfort. He bowed his head, trying to welcome any ounce of sleep.

“What the–”

Cyldris jolted, watching a Thalmor agent swiftly stab the justicar through the abdomen with a bound sword– quietly killing him. The prisoner’s eyes grew. “Ondolemar?” He croaked. He  watched his friend dismiss the spell, snatch a key off the wall and form the justicar’s body, then hurried to the cell and unlocked it. For a second, Cyldris locked onto those golden eyes. “I thought you were off to Morrowind.

Ondolemar hurried to him, unlocked the shackles, and caught Cyldris as he collapsed into his arms. “Not without you. Can you stand?”

He nodded, fighting the pain in his exhausted body. “Yes.”

His friend led him to the hatch in the floor, unlocked it and shot down a spell of Magelight at the bottom of the ladder. The small spot was illuminated with bright light. “Go.”

He quickly climbed down the ladder, but his body was too sore. He fell at the third to last rod. “Ow,” he groaned, shivering from a chilly breeze in the tunnel as he slowly got to his feet. 

Ondolemar was quickly behind as he slid down the ladder. He led the way through the short tunnel until they got to an edge. He summoned the light spell again and shot it by the cave entrance, revealing a small, icy cave and a dead troll. “I already killed it. The horse is just outside. It’s going to be freezing, but I have your coat and boots ready for your arrival.”

He smirked up at him. “You thought of everything.”

He smiled proudly. “I also bought two strong invisibility potions for this, plus paid off the guard at the front entrance with 5,000 Steptims.” 

Cyldris’ eyes grew. 

“I’ll go first.” He hopped down.

Cyldris followed, but landed ungracefully. Ondolemar caught his arm before he was able to fall over. He was grateful that Elenwin let him keep his boots on. They quickly headed out of the cave to where the paint horse was standing ready with stuffed knapsacks and saddlebags bulking at the seams. Ondolemar stanched the heavy coat off the saddle, threw it on his friend, and helped him get his winter boots on. He hopped on first, then helped Cyldris up in front of him and they galloped away. Cyldris was forced to lean back into his friend, unable to support himself. “Where are we going?” He barely heard his own voice as his eyes were closing.

“To your old friends….”

He didn’t hear what else Ondolemar had said as he drifted off to sleep.

Upon feeling the horse stop, he woke up, but realizing Ondolemar only got off the horse and guided the animal by the reins, he drifted back to sleep, slumped over the horse's neck. He’d periodically wake up to open an eye, checking if they were still safe, then fall back asleep. He didn’t want his friend out of his sight. Suddenly, someone gently shook his leg. “Hm?” He raised his head. 

“We’re safe.”

He sat up, feeling sorry for the horse that had supported his dead weight. “Where…?” He looked at his friend who was standing at his side, looking dead on his feet, then looked to his surroundings, recognizing the campsite with concerned bandits looking at them. Struggling to get off the horse with a stiff body, a large orc gently picked him off the horse and placed him onto his feet. The Kahjiit immediately began to remove all the gear from the poor creature, who was breathing heavily. Recognizing the chief, who was standing close by to supervise that everything and everyone was quickly and properly tended to. He looked her dead in the eyes. “I can’t pay you back enough,” he murmured.  

“Shh,” Helga soothed as she approached. “Your friend already paid for that.”

“Five thousand Septims to be exact,” the orc, who Cyldris remembered as Urzok, commented.

“The tent is made,” someone announced

“Go get some rest,” Helga gently urged as Ondolemar approached her. 

“But–” 

Urzok carefully guided the wood elf to the tent. It was warm by a fire and big enough for two people. “Rest, little buddy,” the orc softly soothed, allowing Clydris crawl inside to shed his coat and boots and collapse in a warm bed roll on soft straw padding. Urzok closed the entrance flap. 

Cyldris’ heart was pounding in his chest as his aching body screamed at him. His arms were sore from being held up for so long. His body still ached from the trauma of being whipped and remembered the brutal beatings he used to receive. He curled into a ball, whimpering, until someone wrapped an arm around his waist. He opened his, seeing he was in a tent and not in the dungeon of his former master’s manor. He glanced over his shoulder, finding Ondolemar asleep with his arm around him. With a soft smile, Cyldris fell back asleep.

Sunlight poured through the tent as voices were speaking around him. He stirred, but groaned in pain. His muscles were still sore and he was starving. He turned, noticing Ondolemar dead asleep at his side. He found his own knapsack tucked in the corner by his side. He opened it and found his clothes and two axes inside. He stiffly, but carefully got dressed and crawled out of the tent, closing the flap. He sat at a table, taking a fresh apple from a bowl, but needed more food.

“Your friend told us quite the story.” Helga joined him along with five other people. “You need rest.”

“I rested the whole way here. Ondolemar did not.”

“You were shackled for a whole day and half a night in a dungeon,” the Dunmer stated, joining his chief’s side.

“This one was on guard duty,” the Kahjiit began at his left. “I recognized you two from the other day. I thought you were dead. Your friend called up to me, pleading for help and that he would pay in exchange. I went to Helga and she agreed without hesitation.” 

“Ondolemar told us what had happened,” Helga said. “He was exhausted, but his concern for you wouldn’t let him rest.”

“It took him a while to fall asleep himself,” the Dunmer murmured. “He was rambling about needing to be on guard. At that point, I had to coax him to bed. He was too tired to argue.”

“What happened to Morrowind?” The Kahjiit suddenly asked, earning their attention. “Or was that when the Thalmor found you?”

Cyldris looked at him. “That is exactly what happened. We were at Windhelm. We were going to leave that morning, but then a Thalmor agent recognized Ondolemar and said she was going to escort him to the Ambassador. We made up this whole lie…..” He began to tell his story as a slave and how that led up to their ploy and escape. He also told the story of how he and Ondolemar met and formed an unlikely friendship.

“Slavery,” the Dunmer spat. “Horrible. My own people did that shit and I am completely against it.”

“It’s disgusting,” another agreed. 

“Look who’s up,” Urzok announced.

Cyldris turned to his tent as Ondolemar drowsily approached them and dressed in clean common clothing with his Thalmor robes bundled in his arms. The silver reflecting on top was a relief to see.  

“I need to bury this,” he announced. “It’s too sturdy to burn and I don't want the Thalmor finding it. The medallion may fetch a nice price, but I cannot promise how much.” 

The Dunmer stood up. “I will show you a spot to bury it in the plains on the other side of this camp.”

Ondolemar dipped his head to him. “Thank you.”

Clydris looked his friend dead in the eyes, stood up, and stepped forward. “Why didn’t you leave? I gave myself up to save you.”

He looked at him. “You act as if I'd simply let you do that. You underestimate me, Cyldris.” His eyes were heavy with emotion. “I should’ve killed her when I had the chance….” He bitterly stated.

“Who?”

“Niryal. When I had the chance on the way to the Embassy. I should’ve killed her, then we wouldn’t have been in this situation. Why, why, didn’t I–”

“Don’t,” Urzok softly interrupted, sympathetically staring at him. “Do not do that to yourself. That guilt will only make matters worse for you.”

Ondolemar nodded, understanding. 

“I don’t want to burst your bubble,” the Dunmer began, earning their attention, “but Morrowind isn’t a land for everyone. It has recovered from the Red Year to an extent, but the volcano can and will erupt again. It’s a harsh land with harsher wildlife. If you do plan on making home there, just know, all you will see is ash.”

Ondolemar rubbed his face with a hand. “Gods. Where are we supposed to go now? The Thalmor will be hunting us for the rest of our lives.”

“Cyrodiil is safe,” Helga replied. 

“High Rock is, too,” the Kahjiit added.

Ondolemar looked at Cyldris. “You traveled. What do you prefer?”

“High Rock,” he answered.

“High Rock it is.”

“Oh!” Cyldris looked at the group of bandits. “Does anyone know where Crystaldrift Cave is? I have a…calling to this cave.”

“It’s south of Riften,” Helga answered. “I’m from that area. I will not pry because no one gets called to a cave they are not familiar with.”

He slowly nodded, agreeing with her. Then he looked up at the blue sky with the small clouds and bright sun. “I thought I was never going to see this again,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

On the second day in the bandit camp, the fugitives decided to take their leave. It was better to leave sooner than later. They bidded farewell to their friends with stocked supplies and full bellies, then were back on the road. They stayed off the main roads to avoid Thalmor patrols and possibly Whiterun guards. The weather was on their side with a small breeze.

“You literally buried your old life yesterday,” Cyldris said a moment after their departure.

“I did,” Ondolemar answered on the horse.

“You didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I did not.”

“Do you want to?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I buried the uniform instead of burying you.”

Cyldris smiled to himself. 

All day they traveled, only stopping for needed breaks. By nightfall, they were well past Helgen. They made up a camp deep in the forest, away from the road by a running river close to Ivarstead.

Ondolemar went to Ivarstead for clear directions to the cave, leaving Cyldris anxious and alone. Deciding to take a bath to calm his nerves, he stood up from the fire, went to the river, got undressed, then waded in the cold water. He missed the hot springs in Eastmarch. After what felt like it was getting too long, he started to get twitchy. What if Thalmor had found Ondolemar? He should go look for him. He should go right now and–

Ondolemar walked through the brush into the camp. 

Cyldris sighed in relief, swimming to the shore. “You were taking too long. I was considering looking for you.”

“There was a Thalmor agent in the town, so I waited till his back was turned long enough to find out about this cave. I apologize that I worried you.”

Cyldris shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Did you find the location?”

“I did. It’s not too far. I marked it on the map.” He held up the rolled up parchment, then turned and walked to the heart of the camp.

The Bomser dunked his head under the water. Tomorrow he was finally going to find out what was going on at Crystaldrift Cave. He only hoped that they both got out alive and free. He glanced at his companion, wondering if he should confess his attraction to him while he had the chance, but telling him such words felt like utter nonsense. It wasn’t just physical attraction. He admired his strong will to change his entire life’s outlook. He admired his heart for betraying the Thalmor. He admired his intellect for coming up with such cunning lies and escape plans. Unfortunately, Ondolemar would never look at him or think of him in such a way.

A memory of being beaten with a wooden mallet flashed through his mind. 

He shot up through the surface, gasping for air. He snapped his head to the camp, seeing Ondolemar tending to the fire, unaware of the distress to his relief. Deciding that was enough of the bath, he swam to the water’s edge and walked out of the water, picking up a small blanket that was given by the bandits. He dried himself off and got dressed.

“You are quite a dashing Bosmer, I must say,” Ondolemar blurted.

He turned to his friend, who was looking at him. Did he hear correctly? 

“I am trying to…admire other races when I previously would not allow myself to do such a thing. Forgive me.”

Cyldris blinked. “You…admire me?” He tousled his wet hair to help dry it out.  

His golden eyes didn’t shy away. “I do. It’s strange. I used to think other races were revolting, but now, I see that is not true.”

Hope flared in his heart. “Really? I thought you weren’t attracted to men.” He hung up the blanket to dry in a tree.

Ondolemar smirked. “Oh, I am. Tell me, do you share this attraction?”

“Yes,” he immediately breathed, looking at him. 

He approached him, making the Bosmer feel comfortably smaller. “Do you want to go to the tent?”

“Are you suggesting sex?”

“I am. If you’re interested.”

His heart deflated. More casual sex. He thought the man was tired of casual sex, but clearly, bedding a wood elf was exciting. He had to admit that he was interested even though it wasn’t what he had hoped. At least it was better than nothing. “Let’s go.” He walked to the tent, starting to remove his tunic with Ondolemar following. Once undressed, he laid face down on the bedroll, eagerly waiting for whatever Ondolemar had in store. 

“I…I can’t,” Ondolemar suddenly said. “I’m sorry.”

Cyldris’ heart fell as he looked at him across the tent, who only had his shirt off and not looking at him. “What’s wrong?” His voice depressingly dropped. “You’re not attracted to Bosmers, are you?” 

The Altmer snapped panicked eyes at him. “No! Gods, no. I was hoping for a quick plow, but seeing you so…deliciously desirable for me is more than I can bear. I realize I can’t ignore these feelings I have.”

His heart leapt as he perked up. He pushed himself up right. “What feelings?” 

“You’re a strong person, Cyldris. You’re kind and merciful even to your greatest enemy. You stay happy despite all the pain you suffered. You gave up your life in hopes to give me a new one.” He looked at him. “A brief moment isn’t the way I want to express such feelings. I would be lying to myself and to you.”

Cyldris’ breath hitched at such words. “How would you like to express it?”

“It’s nothing that can be rushed.”

He blushed. “You want to take your time with me?”

“Yes. I wanted to quickly fuck you to get it out of my system, but now I see, I was wrong. Tell me. Do you share these same feelings?”

“I do. I thought you’re stunning like an Aedra that I was unworthy of even touching. You changed your life for the better when many would never. You kept saving me when others would’ve left me on my own.” He watched Ondolemar approach him. “You could have left–”

Ondolemar knelt down beside, gently cupped his face and softly kissed him.

Clydris returned the kiss as his mind melted. If his ancestors saw him getting kissed by a former Thalmor commander in the nude, they would be disgusted. Only when Ondolemar pulled away, Cyldris returned to reality. “No one ever kissed me like that before,” he murmured. 

Ondolemar pleasantly hummed. 

“Take me,” he whispered. 

Ondolemar deviously smiled. “Aren’t you eager.” 

Cyldris shamefully lowered his gaze. 

“Don’t take it like that.” He gently lifted up the Bosmer’s chin, making their eyes meet. He brushed his lips against his own, whispering, “I enjoy your enthusiasm.” 

“You’re tormenting me.” He wasn’t disappointed.

“I’m tormenting both of us, but I feel it’s better to wait.”

“For what? Time may not be on our side. I do not know what Sheogorath’s plans are. I could be taken to His realm of madness for all I know.” An image of Ondolemar with the Golden axe embedded in his head flashed before his eyes. He tittered. “I could kill you. So many things could happen.”

“Then we would both have to come out alive.” He stood up with a smile, then left him alone in the tent.

Sighing, Cyldris got dressed, then walked out of the tent, noticing the Golden axe catching the firelight by a tree stump along with his other things. His blood chilled. 

Kill him, a voice egged. Take the axe and PUT IT IN HIS HEAD! Ha-ah! Now won’t that be fun?

I’d rather slit my own throat, he mentally growled.

Would ya now? I doubt it! That would be too boring…and you know it. The voice menacingly dropped. 

Cyldris glanced at Ondolemar, who was reading a book that Helga gave him by the fire. He wanted to warn him, but was unable to speak. 

Chapter Text

After the break of dawn, Ondolemar started to make a fire to cook some fish that he had luckily caught moments ago. Once the flame was strong enough, he placed the skewered fish on the fire, watching it cook. Today was the day that hopefully Cyldris would be freed of Sheogorath. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he only hoped to continue traveling with the wood elf in peace. He raised his head, feeling the gentle breeze around him as the leaves rustled like soft whispers, until an arrow skillfully flew past his head, embedding into a nearby tree. He jumped to his feet and spun to a sinister smile on Cyldris’s lips as the wood elf lowered the bow. 

“I wanted to give you a fighting chance.” Cyldris dropped the bow, unholstering the axes at his hips. “Sorry, friend.”

Ondolemar couldn’t speak. He dumbly gawked at the man that wore his friend’s face. His kind crimson eyes were now twinkling with madness. His delightful, carefree smile– now eager with malicious intent. He wasn’t prepared when the wood elf darted to him with axes swinging, but his militant mind didn’t have to think as he summoned a storm spell in his left hand. He casted lightning bolt, but the wood elf jumped out of the way. “Clydris! Snap out of it!” He summoned the bound blade in his other hand.

“Not until you’re dead!” He cackled, swiftly throwing the dark axe at Ondolemar, who narrowly struck it in time with the sword with both hands. In his hesitation of slicing at his companion, Cyldris took the opening and landed a blow on the Altmer’s side.

Ondolemar staggered, holding the wound. He looked down and his bloodied hand as the blood in his veins turned to ice. He looked at his friend with his heart breaking in his chest. He would do anything to see that carefree smile again, to hear his nonsense, joyous ramblings about how beautiful life was. Seeing the madman aim another blow, a bolt of lightning shot from his hand, knocking the Bosmer down. He was about to try to stand up, but Ondolemar released another bolt, sending the wood elf back down in a twitching heap. Ondolemar straightened up, holding his bleeding side as he approached the elf. His grip tightened on the bound sword as he summoned a healing spell. 

Cyldris couldn’t control the jolting with tensed muscles when he locked eyes on Ondolemar. He tried to crack a smile. “K-keeping your p-p-promise?” He stammered from the electricity coursing through his body. 

“I am.”  Gold, warm energy wrapped around him as the axe wound mended. He dismissed the spell. 

Cyldris smiled. “Y-you j-just wanted to m-m-make a fool out of m-me anyway.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You w-wanted to get me in an embarrassing p-position, wanting to have your way with a wood elf. You probably g-got disgusted at the very thought, so you made up that little lie about wanting to wait.” His grin cracked with pain in his eyes.

Ondolemar’s grip on the blade weakened as his shoulders sagged. “No. No, not at all.”

“‘Deliciously desirable,’ you said.” He grimly sputtered a chuckle. “How I w-wanted you, too.” His muscles were too rigid for him to attempt to reach out.

“I don’t want to keep my promise, but I know Cyldris–” “ I am Cylrdis. ” “–would want me to.”

“Then do it.” His maniacal eyes met his own. 

Ondolemar released the bound blade and the weapon faded before it hit the ground. He knelt beside his friend, summoned a golden spell, and began to heal him. If it wasn’t for the mage back at the bandit camp, he wouldn’t have known how to heal others. Under the golden glow, the wood elf’s body relaxed. “Now, perhaps we can–”

The wood elf sprang on him, tackling him, but the Altmer quickly rolled him over, and pinned him down with his hands above his head. The Bosmer’s eyes were that of a desperate lunatic. “I don’t understand!” He screeched. “You’re supposed to keep your promise! Kill me !” A fire spell crackled in his palm. “Or I will burn you alive !” 

“If I kill you that would take any hope of possibly saving you!”

“Either you kill me or I kill you!” 

“Who are you exactly? A Daedra?”

He delightfully cackled. “No, nothing like that. I am the darkness in Cyldris’ soul. I am the one that has no impulse control. I am the one who protects his mind, the one that does not have any care. I am what many people want to be and the one that many fear to be, but you do not fear me.” He laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t kill you since you’re the only one crazy enough to heal the guy trying to murder you!” 

Ondolemar tightened his grip on the Bosmer’s wrists. “What is wrong with you?” He snarled, growing frustrated with the madman. 

“I just said that I am the one that does not care!” Cyldris impatiently snapped. “I am the one who fucked an orc when he wanted to forced himself upon me and, Gods, I shamelessly enjoyed riding him until I stabbed him in the throat! I am the one that killed those farmers when they wanted to kill one another! I am the one that butchered that Thalmor prick! I am the insane part of Cyldris’ mind and I don’t regret any of it!” He manically laughed. His smile slowly disappeared when he saw the frightful expression the Altmer’s narrow face. “Are you going to keep your promise now?” 

“No. I’m just holding you down until you guarantee that you won’t attack me again.”

The lunatic’s eyes softened as if a glimmer of the true Cyldris had briefly shown himself. The fire spell died in his hand. “I want to please my Lord, but I would really prefer you to keep your promise because I’d rather go to Oblivion than to take your life. Please. Kill me.” 

“I will not.” Ondolemar slowly released him and got off him just as the madness dissipated from his crimson eyes. He stood up, dusting himself off. 

“I blacked out, didn’t I?” Cyldris jumped to his feet. “What happened? Are you wounded?” He looked around, beginning to heavily breathe as if he had sprinted. “Please tell me we were attacked and that’s why you were wounded judging by the gash on your side and my axes lying about.” 

Ondolemar firmly planted his hands on his friend’s shoulders, making the small elf look at him with large eyes. “Listen to me. You did have a blackout. You said Sheogorath ordered to kill you and–”

He backed away from the Altmer’s grip. “I tried to kill you because Sheogorath told me to ?” His voice cracked. “And then what? You let me go ? You promised to kill me if I did such a thing! You promised !” 

Ondolemar cupped his narrow face. “If I killed you, I would feel as though I have made a horrible mistake without even trying to help you. I am not going to rest until you are free. I am not going to give up on you until your mind is your own again. Even in a blacked out state, you wanted me to kill you. You’d rather die than kill me. I knew you weren’t completely lost.”

“How can you be so optimistic?” 

“What choice do I have? We both dragged each other into our own madness. Do you want me to abandon you or worse: kill you? I say we finish this the way it started: together.” “Ondole–”

He softly kissed the wood elf’s lips and held it for a moment. “I wanted to do that earlier, but I also wanted you to remember,” he whispered against his lips. “As long as we still breathe, we have a chance to free you.”

“Sheogorath could destroy us both.” 

“Then at least we tried.”

Cyldris looked him in the eyes. “I’m not worth dying for.”

“You breathed air into my life that was clouded by an obscure belief. You live every day like it’s your last when all I thought was about the Thalmor. You saw that I was worth sparing when you could have so easily killed me. Please. Let me do the same for you.” 

The Bosmer sucked in a breath before throwing his arms around his neck, kissing him with such passion. Ondolemar wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him close as he melted into the kiss.

After breakfast, the pair broke down their camp and began heading east. The hour-long walk was in high spirits. However, once they arrived at the cave, their spirits immediately dropped. Cyldris hopped off the horse with Ondolemar at the horse’s side. The earth began to shake. The horse whinnied in fright, but Ondolemar held the reins firm, soothing the poor creature. After a couple of minutes, the shaking stopped. They both gazed into the cave’s dark entrance. 

“That’s no mere coincidence,” Cyldris commented.

“Absolutely not. Ready?” Ondolemar asked.

“Yes.” Cyldris went into the mouth of the cave first with Ondolemar close behind. The short tunnel opened to a cave with a massive stone structure of a man’s head with his mouth open wide, holding a glimmering, blue portal inside. Two of the same faces were on both sides, sharing the same set of eyes with the face in the middle– the left was stoic and the right was bearing teeth. The Bosmer took a step forward.

“Wait.” Ondolemar took his shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“So!” A voice boomed through the cave. “The Unbeliever finally arrives! Took your time with those Thalmor, didn’t you? But unfortunately, you didn’t kill the one that I ordered you to! Pity.”

“What do you want of me?” Cyldris demanded, approaching the portal and out of Ondolemar’s reach

“I want, well, you ! Walker of both Mania and Dementia! Happiness and gloom. Sane and insane! You get the picture. There is a madness inside you, little mortal. All you have to do is…let it out.” His voice darkened at the last words. 

“Never!”

“Never? Realllly? Oh, that’s funny!” The voice barked with laughter. “The moment you embrace it, truly embrace it, you will be free! All your memories will come back, all the shifting and changing will stop, and the only one who is holding you back is right behind you.”

“He’s helping me!”

“Helping you?” The cave echoed with a roaring laugh. “How wrong you are! I am the one that’s been helping you, guiding you, giving you a gift where no one would ever hurt you again! Don’t you remember when that happened?”

Ondolemar wanted to join his friend’s side, but cautiously watched his body language for any change in behavior. 

“…I was in my master’s prison,” Cyldris recalled. “I was being beaten and I prayed to Auri-El to help me. I heard your voice and– You told me to let myself go and let my other self come out! The moment I had the chance two days later, I killed him! This whole time was your gift?” 

Ondolemar’s eyes sprang open.

“Correct! I have waited thirty years for you to get the hint, but I grew impatient. So I came to you myself and– oh-ho!– the look on your face when you realized it wasn’t good ol’ Akintosh you were talking to, but Me ! The Daedric Prince of Madness! I am ready for a proper thank-you for your generous gift now.”

“Th-thank you, my Lord, truly, but how is killing Ondolemar going to help? Please, tell me.”

“No! You tell me! Haven’t you figured it out?”

After a moment of silence, the Bosmer slowly turned to Ondolemar. He slowly removed both axes from the holsters. “He’s holding me back.”

“What?” Ondolemar cried. “Do you hear yourself right now?”

“I do. Believe me, I hear myself loud and clear. I belong in the Shivering Isles. I am both Mania and Dementia and the only thing that would ever stop me is you.” He sadly smirked. “No wonder I wasn’t able to kill you.” 

Ondolemar took a step forward. “I see now. You always belonged to Him. There is no freeing you. You are both Mania and Dementia. You’re two of the same coin. This madness is to shield you from the cruelty of your own becoming. You saved me from that Seducer because of it and I know you would never sanely kill with your bare hands like that. You feel that you would be safer in the Shivering Isles, so you need to kill me to allow yourself to go there. I want you to be happy. I want your mind to be whole. You don’t have to kill me to achieve that.”

Cyldris looked like he was in agony. “How can you say that?” 

He calmly approached the elf, cupping his face. “I embrace everything you are,” he whispered into his lips before kissing him.

Cyldris dropped both axes, returning the kiss. He froze. “I remember….” He turned away, eyes growing wide. “I remember. I remember what exactly happened with the farmers…. I remember finding a man for hurting a dog. I killed him and healed the dog. I never remembered that until now. Any of it…. More memories are starting to come little by little. It’s like there isn’t a wall separating them anymore.” He snapped his head to Ondolemar, digging his nails into the Altmer’s arms. “I remember trying to kill you! How you healed me….” He spun to the portal. “My Lord! I beg you. I owe this man time and time again with my life. Please don’t make me kill him. I will go to the Shivering Isles with You. I will obey You, but he doesn’t need to die!”

“Well,” Sheogorath began, “this is an interesting outcome. You embrace your true self through the power of love? How…disgusting. I didn't even see that coming! So, yes, little mortal, congratulations. No more blackouts and forgotten memories for you! You are completely whole. Well, not really because your mind is like a shattered teacup all patched together in a cracked, sad form of what it used to be with a couple of shards missing here and there, but close enough!”

Ondolemar looked at his partner. “You’re going to the Shivering Isles?”

Cyldris looked up at him. “It’s safe for me there. It’s where I belong. Thank you. For everything.” He sadly smiled. “I suppose this is goodbye when it just started.”

“I….”

Cyldris held out his hand.

Ondolemar’s heart broke as he accepted his companion’s hand. “Take care of yourself, Cyldris.”

“You, too.” 

Unable to watch his companion leave, he turned away, walking to the entrance and out of the cave where the horse idly waited. It was a beautiful day, but it felt like it might as well be winter. Sucking in a breath, he mounted the horse, turned around in the direction of Helgan. "Star," he murmured to himself. "I think I shall call you Star." He patted the horse's neck, but his heart was unable to feel. HE only had one option and that was to head to Cryodiil. He couldn’t go home to Summerset Isles and Skyrim was now too dangerous to stay. Returning to the Thalmor was not an option, but he really didn’t want to go back to his old ways of thinking. Well, he didn’t have to go back to believing that the Altmers were the supreme race, he could just–

No. Going back was not an option. Elenwin would kill him and he would lose his rank as commander. He lost everything. He gave everything for a bosmer who didn’t even try to fight for him! Ondolemar stopped the horse, looking back at the direction of the cave, wondering if the portal was still open, but why go after him when they could’ve had everything? Cyldris made his choice. He chose a Daedric Prince over him. He gently kicked the horse into walking. He was to go to Cyrodiil and make a new life. Cyldris made his choice. Now, he’s making his own. 

Chapter Text

One year later

The morning sky was blue with beautiful, fluffy clouds when Ondolemar opened his shop on the docks of Anvil. He had lived in the seaside city for eight months and opened a shop to sell various knick-knacks and his paintings that ranged from local art of the lighthouse, the sea to beautiful landscapes inspired by Summerset Isles, Cyrodiil, and Skyrim. He went to the back of the shop to work on a progress painting of a dark forest under the night sky. After thirty minutes, he heard the bell of the front door ring. He got up and went to the counter where a bosmeri man was perusing his paintings. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m looking for my old friend.” The Bosmer turned and gently smiled at Ondolemar, making the Altmer’s heart skip a beat. “Hello, my friend.”

“What are you doing here?” Ondolemar sharply questioned without a second thought. 

Cyldris gaped at him as if trying to catch his breath. It appeared for the first time in the wood elf’s life, he was speechless. He tittered. “Sheogorath decided I’ll have more fun and enjoyment if I returned to Tamriel. He told me where you would be too!” He grinned. “I did have to travel most of Cyro-”

“You’ve been gone…for a year.” His voice was hollow. His heart was empty. 

He frowned. “I have.”

“Why did you want to find me, Cyldris? I never expected to see you again.”

“I know your life is your own. I will not interfere, my friend. I just…wanted to see you again.”

“I moved on, Cyldris.” He clenched his fists on the wooden counter, glaring at him with a burning heart. “I was falling in love with you. I regretted not going after you.”

Cyldris took a breath. “I loved you, too. I wanted so much more than a kiss. I wanted to travel with you. I wanted-”

“You chose the Mad God over me after everything we went through. So do whatever it is you’re doing and just go.” His heart felt like it was wrapped in iron.

“I’m not going back to the Shivering Isles.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Ondolemar quipped. “Drop everything and embrace you? No. I just hope you find peace in your world of chaos. That’s what the Cyldris I fell in love with would want. Peace.”

“I-I was afraid that if I didn’t go to Him, he would have made me kill you or worse- destroy you Himself. I also wanted to belong somewhere. I-”

 “Don’t. I’m not searching for excuses. You were ready to kill me if you had to. It’s simply the fact. I chose you over everything. You chose the Mad God over me. As for you belonging somewhere, you would’ve always belonged at my side.”

“Not once did a day pass that I didn’t think of you,” Cyldris whispered. “I kept telling myself you were safer without me. How I wanted to beg my Lord to open a portal for me to find you. I never stopped thinking about traveling across Tamriel together. I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped loving you. I don’t expect you to take me back, but I just needed to see you again.”

“You saw me. Now leave.” 

Cyldris looked like he was slapped. He was about to open his mouth, but instead he simply nodded. He walked to the door and silently slipped out.

Ondolemar hated how cold he was to the elf and was even tempted to go after him once more, but he made his choice. Just as Cyldris did a year ago. 

The rest of the day Ondolemar tried to continue with his painting in the workshop, but his mind was too distracted. Some conversations with customers were able to distract his thoughts, but only momentarily. He resented Cyldris for being in his mind for the rest of the day, plaguing him like the day he left. The Altmer was even tempted to find someone for the night just to not think of the wood elf. He never forgave himself for not taking the wood elf in that tent when he had the chance, but he knew that would have changed nothing. He hated that he was back to lusting after the elf instead of being angry at him. He wanted to hate Cyldris. 

When he got home that evening, he wondered about the wood elf’s whereabouts. Did he leave Anvil? Knowing Cyldris, he probably stayed somewhere close to try apologizing again. Ondolemar hoped that he just left since it would be easier that way. He’ll forget him again. He wasn’t going to allow Cyldris to take over any mind space again. Cyldris already gave him up once. Who is to say that the man wouldn’t do it again? 

After taking a soothing hot bath, Ondolemar got dressed in a nightgown, made a cup of lavender chamomile tea, and sat in his favorite armchair to read. After finishing two chapters, the Altmer retired to his bedroom, closing the door. His house was much smaller than what he grew up with, but he loved the single story, cozy, little seaside home. He loved the smell of salt in the air. He loved living in Anvil and he hated how Cyldris barged into his life again. 

He blew out the candles, climbed into bed and closed his eyes. All day he was unaware that he was being followed by a stalker in the shadows and the stalker waited for this very moment. The Altmer struggled to fall asleep, unable to stop thinking about either punching Cyldris in the face or kissing him. His eyes flew open when the bedroom door opened. He shot out of bed with electricity crackling in his hands, facing the intruder donned in black clothing and hood. “Get out! Now!”

The intruder held a dagger in their hand. “Sithis wants your soul, Ondolemar,” the woman icily announced.

Ondolemar blinked. “Sithis? The Dark Brotherhood?” 

She nodded.

“Who? Who sent you?” He demanded.

“Callanil.”

Ondolemar’s blood turned to ice. He turned an electrical spell into a gentle flame in his left hand, turned around to the candle holder on his nightstand and delicately lit it. He dismissed both spells, turning to the Dark assassin wearing black and crimson leather armor. “I thought your business only did work in Skyrim.”

“We have expanded.” Her crimson eyes were locked on him. The flame illuminated her narrow facial features and grey skin.

“May I guess why my father wants me dead?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“I betrayed the Thalmor.”

“Yes. When asked why not just hire a Thamlor assassin after you, he said he didn’t want the Thalmor involved. He wanted your death to be clean and quiet. He knew the Thalmor would want to make a scene of it in their organization.” Her accent was more Cyrodillic than Morrowind.

Ondolemar had sent a letter to his family before leaving Skyrim to confirm the news about his betrayal to the Thalmor because there was no doubt that they would receive such news. He didn’t tell them where he was going, but he explained everything except for that he fell in love with the former slave. He knew his father was deathly loyal to the Thalmor, but to hire the Dark Brotherhood was another betrayal. He didn’t think his father or possibly both his parents wanted him dead for it. He cleared his throat. “Well, I assume if I kill you your associates will just send more.”

She smiled. “How arrogant to think you can kill me.”

“You have a dagger. I have spells.”

Her smile broadened and immediately shot a bolt of electricity with her free hand straight into his chest, sending him flying into his own wall. He landed, twitching from the surge of electrical volts that coursed through him. He fought to control his spastic muscles as the assassin approached. 

She crouched before him, titling her head. “Why did you, a former commander, betray the Thalmor?”

“W-why do you want to kn-know?” He stammered through the spasms. 

She held out a hand with a golden glow and his muscles began to relax. “Just curious.”

“I fell in love,” he confessed. “I wanted him to be freed from the Thalmor. He betrayed me in the end.” He bitterly chuckled. “Now, he’s back and I am going to die for aiding him and I hate him for it”

The assassin nodded as if understanding. “Do you regret freeing him?”

“No.”

“Do you regret betraying the Thalmor?”

“No,” he snarled. “I was an arrogant fool to believe in their organization. I fell in love with a former slave who was wanted for murder of Skyrim’s Thalmor Ambassador’s husband. I loved him and he chose a Daedric Prince over me. He was ready to kill me for Sheogorth’s favor, too.”

“Sheogorath? That is a bit different. I don’t know how the Mad God rewards such loyalty. If it was Molag Bal or someone else, then I would understand.” She paused, then asked, “How much do you hate this man?”

“I want him out of my life!” He roared without taking his burning gaze from the woman.

The assassin smiled. “I’ll offer you a deal, Ondolemar. You kill this man and I will free you of this debt of life. Someone has to die. What do you say?”

The thought of killing that skilled duelist danced across his mind, but he knew he didn’t have the heart. He knew the moment he locked eyes with that Bosmer, he’d be tempted to forgive him. He also knew that he never had the heart to personally end Cyldris’s life. Ondolemar looked at her. “Why are you giving me this chance?”

“My own husband betrayed me so I killed him. A woman didn’t steal his heart. Oh, no. Gold did. He saw money and power. I know what the pain of betrayal is like. Also, I hate the Thalmor so I wouldn’t mind if I end up helping you instead of your extremist father.”

“He was Sheogorath’s chosen,” Ondolemar explained. “He wanted his fractured mind to be whole so he chose the Prince over me. I don’t think he is worth killing.”

“What did you do for him?”

“I could’ve sold him out to the Thalmor, but instead I helped him. I freed him from torture. We were planning to travel all over Tamriel together, but he tossed me aside for Sheogorath’s realm. I hadn’t seen him for a year until today.”

The assassin lowered her hood, revealing a beautiful face of a Dunmeri woman with long, black hair neatly braided. Her crimson eyes were like a merciful predator’s. “I really would not rather want to kill you, former Thalmor. Killing him may also bring you closure.”

“Or undying guilt.”

“Do you think he regrets betraying you?”

“No.”

She grabbed the Altmer by the hair and brought the dagger to his narrow throat. Their gazes locked together. “Sithis, you have beautiful eyes,” she breathed. “Last chance. Him or you. Which is it?”

Ondoemar snarled. “Fuck it.” He took her wrist with the dagger, yanking it away from his throat. “I’ll pay you on top of my father’s payment if you kill Cyldris Thorn. I gave up my life for that man and now I am going to be killed for helping him. I loved him and at the end of everything, he was ready to kill me for Sheogorath. I am not going to be the one who dies after everything he’s done.”
 
She released his hair and the dagger, staring at each other for a moment. “How much?”

“What is your price?”

The assassin ran a finger down his chest. “I want to taste this anger, if you’d let me. Plus two hundred gold.”

Ondolemar found himself staring into the depths of the assassin’s soul. “Deal. What is your name?”

“Aldressa.”

It didn’t take long for their clothes and armor to be discarded. Ondolemar sat on the edge of his bed with Aldressa kneeling before him. He softly grunted, feeling himself grow firmer in the assassin’s mouth as she shamelessly tasted him. Once she was satisfied, she stood up, and looked the breathless man in the eyes as she took his hand and placed it in between her legs.

Ondolemar breathed as he slipped two fingers inside her, feeling her wetness. He caressed her, feeling her. It was intoxicating. 

She panted, running her fingers in her hair. Her breathing escalated with his finger’s pace, then she held up a hand. “Stop.”

He obeyed, removing his hand. Her command sent a pleasant chill down his spine. 

“Lay down.”

He obeyed once more, watching her straddle him. He groaned as she slid his cock inside her. He wanted to touch her, but refrained, only watching her take her time to ride him. 

“What are this Bosmer’s strengths?” She suddenly asked. 

“Duel wielding axes.”

“I’m talking about killing the man I once loved while an assassin is on top of me in exchange for my life for his.” He groaned in pleasure. “What madness.”

“I’m fucking you when I should be killing you,” she panted as she carefully increased the pace. 

Ondolemar locked eyes with her. “What a mad pair we are.”

Aldressa began to vigorously bounce on him, gasping and whimpering for breath with her hands planted firmly on his chest. 

Ondolemar’s head was spinning. The thought of Cyldris dying instead of him flared in him, but he was done risking his life for that man. Clydris saved his life when they first met and Ondolemar repaid the debt. Now an assassin was sent after him all because of Cyldris, the man who chose the Mad God and left a year ago. Cyldris Thorn will regret not killing him when he had the chance. He will not walk away while Ondolemar is laying in a pool of his own blood in his own home. He groaned upon release.

Aldressa removed herself from him, collapsing at his side and panting for breath. Ondolemar looked at her crimson eyes as she scooted closer to him. “I don’t want you to think I do this all the time.”

“I think we both needed it to be honest.” He ideally played with her braid. 

“Is Cyldris still in town?”

“He could be. He may have a camp outside the city if you can’t find him here.”

“I’ll let you know the moment it's done.”

“Before I forget.” He leaned over the nightstand, removed a purse, and began to count. He then handed her the coins. “Your payment.” 

Aldressa smiled, taking the coins. She stood up and picked up her own discarded purse from her armor. “A pleasure doing business with you.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Truly.”