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Heretics and Extremists	By : Inxathekhajiit Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 5671 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, nor any of the characters from it. I receive no profit for the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
(Note: In which there is tons of text)

Chapter 5

Ondolemar was attempting to focus on escape as he was lead down the charming, clean halls of the palace, but his mind was shredded into a million distractions and doubts. He found himself even more baffled as these ‘quarters’ Ulfric mentioned ended up just being one of the fancy guest bedrooms. What could that twisted madman possibly want to bring him here?
The Altmer glowered at his captors as they stood in the way of the door before going about making himself at home. He’d been on the road for two, horrific days straight and this miserable experience was only just beginning.
He sat down on the very edge of the large bed and heaved an annoyed sigh as several minutes passed that entailed him just staring at the guards and they at him.
The high elf would like to fight them. Perhaps he could even cause enough of a scene to put a quick termination to this life of his. Perhaps there were weapons lying about that he could take up in his hands, which were bound uselessly behind his back………………..
His eyes squinted in eternal fury and he scowled at the guards. One had decided to come over.
“What?” He snapped.
“Get up, elf.” The man ordered. “We’ll not have you dirtying the comforters with that filth-“
Ondolemar had learned to leave their wretched comments alone the past two days. Falling into their baiting just gave the idiots permission to beat him around, and he’d not have them enjoy it. “Fine.” He hissed and stood up.
He seated himself in the chair instead, with an expression that dared the guard to say otherwise.
“We didn’t give you permission to sit..or go anywhere outside of this spot.” He pointed with his weapon.
Ondolemar’s lidded eyes cast ice in the heathen’s direction. “So do your job and move me, ‘bastard of Skyrim’.”
The guard’s eyes darted hurriedly to the other guard in a soundless ‘did you hear that!?’ before he bore his teeth at the elf. “I think I WILL!”
Stomping over, he grabbed the Altmer by the front of his cloak. Ondolemar glowered and kicked him brutally in the shin. When the idiot fell forward, he socked him in the head with his own.
Immediately his skull rung, but it did the job and the guard flopped over; stunned. Feeling victorious, he kicked out at the moron as far as the chains would allow and flashed the second guard a menacing look as the first lie groaning on the floor. “Next?”
“Look here, you Thalmor piece of shit..” The second guard wasn’t the least bit nervous about the elf’s presence. His voice was raspy and deep. “ Lord Ulfric gave us strict orders not to mess you up. Pretty clear he dealt with more of your fucking ass than any of us-” He made a face. “He wants that privilege..wants you to be nice and clean and comfortable-“
Ondolemar’s sharp reply bit the air. “Your precious leader screams like a pig when you drive a hot iron through him.”
-
Ulfric’s eyebrow rose as he noticed a fair amount of noise coming from just down the hall on his way to his quarters. He casually strolled to the entrance of the room before making a bit of a ‘ah’ noise and crossed his arms as he noticed the guard standing over the Altmer with a spear jabbing down in the elf’s chest.
“Galmer, you got blood on my carpet……” He said in a tone most droll.
Ondolemar was lying in a pool of his own blood and was writhing in agony. Every gasp filled his splintered, punctured lung with more blood. It was rapidly rising in his throat and sputtering painfully out of his mouth.

“AGHHh d-dying shou-cough-ld not take ss-so long-ghnnh“ He arched his back; face contorting in pain and choked, wet gasps rising.
“That looks as though it hurts.” Ulfric observed as if commenting on the weather. “I thought your orders were not to hurt our guest, dearest friend.”
“Aye, but the fucker was asking for it-“ Galmer snarled angrily. “He attacked a guard and then drug your name through the mud!”
Ulfric waved the man away. “Take the ‘poor guard’ with you and train him how to better handle prisoners………..” When Galmer gave him a look, he made another motion. “Go. Leave us.”
He waited patiently for the men to leave and close the door soundly behind him before returning casually to his ‘friend’ on the floor. “Is this what you wanted? To die before you were able to face the consequences of your past actions? You are either a coward or a man truly devoted to your cause.”
Ondolemar gasped and tried to concentrate upon the blurry outline above him. ‘Fucking bastard.’
Ulfric faded away for a moment and when that presence returned, the high elf felt an unpleasantly rough hand cupping his jaw. He opened his mouth to spit some menacing thing to only choke on a vial full of potion that was poured in.
Coughing and sputtering violently, he cracked his eyes open once more.
Ulfric now had both hands on the spears long handle. “You should brace yourself.” He warned before ripping the trajectory out.
Ondolemar screamed at the horrific sensation and blood blossomed from the open wound. The elf’s scream was cut off by violent choking as the collapsed long began to rapidly heal and expel the blood.
The Nord stood over with one hand out and an ever droll expression about him as he cast simple healing magicka upon the man. “That potion is powerful….you will barely notice a scar when its work is through.”
The Altmer rolled to one side and curled up a moment in shock as he felt his body healing and the pain subsiding completely. He felt terribly weak and could not stop gasping.
“I-I am n-no coward, traitor. Nor am I thing t-to be used and cast aside-“ He could not imagine enduring more pain such as that. “I know what awaits me. I will be subjected to torture I exposed to you and you will have your revenge. It is of the tamer’s own knowledge that the animals may turn at any moment and rip their teeth into him-It is a risk all of us took!”
The Altmer was traumatized deeply by his own words, but voicing these terrors was satisfying; as if racing to meet them dead on rather than letting Ulfric draw it out and make him wonder when they would come.
“Here I believed that you thought us so very different………..” That low droll would drive him mad. “You supposed I would do what it is you would do?“ The Nord’s deep voice carried the tiniest tones of amusement. Ondolemar breathed rapidly through his nose a moment before Ulfric added. “Do not insult my intelligence, elf.”
The Altmer grit his teeth and pulled himself up very slowly into a sitting position upon his knees. There was a bit of a nasty rip in his robes and they were even more heavily stained, but the bleeding was stopped and the wound was sealed.
“I will not make deals with you, as you know you have far crossed the line with the Thalmor and there is nothing you can do now. There is no going back. I know you know that. I know you would never let me leave alive…..”
“Why repeat what it is we both know, then?” The nord was leaning lightly on his desk; sipping a mug of mead. “Unless you simply enjoy listening to yourself speak…..”
“What do you want with me, wretch?” Ondolemar hissed this as he pushed up on his knees and slowly stumbled to his feet. His hands remaining bound made this difficult. “I am here. You have kept me alive. Do what you will.”
Ulfric watched him a moment before just chuckling and then laughing; a handsome rumble of a sound that was both mean and enthusiastic.
The elf paled and looked around incredulously. He’d never heard the man laugh and it was horrifying. “Y-you dare laugh?!”
“Yes! As even after all of this time you still believe yourself valuable in some way. You expect to be met with a passionate vengeance you are entirely undeserving of. I can only find humor and pity in your pathetic desperation.”
Ondolemar’s jaw dropped momentarily. “You do not take me seriously at all!” The high elf seethed in fury and turned about to stomp swiftly for the door. He’d had enough of this!
This only ignited another deep, hearty chuckle from Ulfric. “Where do you expect to go, foolish elf?”
He pushed forward and strolled after the Altmer, who in turn stopped at the door and glared over defiantly.
“You may pretend you are ever high and mighty, but you do not fool me.” Ulfric alleged in all seriousness. “Turn around and kneel before me. And this time, do not make me ask twice.”
Ondolemar turned around very slowly and glared cold daggers down at the man.
“No….” He snapped callously. “You will not have the satisfaction of bending my will without your tricks….”
Ulfric’s brow rose. “I assume those robes give you a great deal of comfort, even now.” He seemed to note offhandedly.
Another ancient word of terror from the man ground the Altmer once again, despite his hopes that the wretched Nord would not use it once more. As he shook violently upon his knees and tried desperately to contain himself, the stormcloak walked forward and pulled his hood back.
“And not a strand of hair to be seen-“ The Nord commented in amusement. Ondolemar felt his face go hot as the cold air touched his pointed ears and smooth, prominent features. A small wave of panic rose in him as Ulfric reached into his heavy coats, but what the man drew forth did not seem to be a weapon.
Some metal collar. It was cold as it pressed and locked about his throat. He sneered up at the man as Ulfric pressed his thumb to the mechanism on its front. “W-what is this!?”
“A rune.” Came Ulfric’s simple reply.
Ondolemar gasped lightly and glared up at him.
“If I decide to trigger it, it will blow your head into many messy chunks and pieces….”
Ondolemar shifted furiously.
“It can only be removed by turning the dial on the front..but if you choose to do so yourself without me removing the curse first...it will also explode.”
More shallow gasps escaped from the elf. He was not amused by this development. “Filthy liar! You know no such magic-“
“Shall we try it?” Ulfric raised his hand; sending Ondolemar into a miniature panic attack until he smirked and lowered it. “Good………………….”
The Nord proceeded to walk about the elf and reached down to take up the chains that bound the man’s wrists closely together. He removed them, but left the cuffs- that would keep his magic reserves drained- on.
“Now then…..as for the robes…” Ulfric rubbed at his beard with one hand whilst tossing aside the chains. “Strip down…entirely. The boots as well” He seemed to note the immediate fury upon the elf, which lead him to add: “Unless you’d rather I strip you myself……..”

Seething, Ondolemar stood up straight and began angrily undoing the lacings and buttons that held his robes together. His long fingers moved anxiously across the cloth but he rebelliously showed no humiliation over shedding layer after layer. This was a game and he was not playing.
His tall frame was limber and toned but not greatly muscled; broad in the shoulders with elfish notches hugging each joint upon him. Generous amounts of freckles dotted his brown skin where there were not various splotches of different tones. He was nothing impressive physically, save his height, and the length of his limbs made him seem gangly and bird like despite the muscles lean tone.
Ondolemar held his nose up and clenched his fists through the cool air touching every inch of his revealed skin. “You may remove my robes, but it changes nothing of my Altmer heritage, heathen.” He tilted his sculpted face slightly to the left and glowered.
Ulfric wasn’t really paying attention it seemed.
Ondolemar crossed his arms and clutched them tightly together as he waited for the infuriating bastard to stop going through the dresser drawer. When the Stormcloak dropped a set of rags at his feet, the elf bore his teeth in disgust.
“There are your clothes, elf.”
Ondolemar gave the bundle a rough kick with his long toes.
Ulfric crossed his arms as well and raised a brow. “Don’t like them?” He asked sarcastically.
The Altmer scowled. “I dare you to dress me yourself if you expect me to wear that trash. I prefer the bloodied, stinking robes.”
The Nord gave him a dull look for a brief moment before shrugging. “Very well then. You will go without clothes.” He reached out and sudden blast of flame at the pile of clothes; including the Thalmor robes.
Ondolemar yelped and hopped back in horror as the flame burned up and then died down into ash. “You madman.”
Ondolemar glanced down rapidly to his loincloth and back up again as he realized that the Nord was leaving and beckoning him to follow. “I will not be leaving this room without clothes.”
“So fickle.” Ulfric’s voice was full of mock exasperation. “I offered you clothes and you turned them down. It is too bad you changed your mind. Now do not waste my time, lest I lose my patience and decide I like you better without a head.”
Ondolemar’s prominent features flushed deeply. Fighting the urge to wring the fucker’s neck, he followed very stiffly out into the hall.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Heretics and Extremists

Chapter 5