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Onmund wasn’t usually the type to hesitate when approaching someone new, but something about this man gave him pause.
He’d seen him earlier, lingering around the Arcanaeum, half-buried in books, mind elsewhere. Now, as Onmund stepped into the aisle between the tall shelves, he found him sitting at one of the study tables, the dim light of the lantern casting sharp lines across his face. He had the air of someone who was used to being in control of his surroundings, even when he was alone. The kind of man who noticed people before they noticed him. Onmund had been watching him for a little while. Not in a suspicious way—just enough to get a read on him. He wasn’t a familiar face, and Onmund made a habit of knowing just about everyone who walked these halls. New, then. But not new in the same way Onmund had been when he first arrived—nervous, uncertain, eager to prove himself. This man looked like he belonged anywhere he wanted to be. The truth was, Onmund had been feeling a little adrift lately. He had no illusions about the way people saw him—earnest, steady, reliable. But being the only Nord apprentice in the College made him something else, too. Different. Outnumbered. Alone, in a way he hadn’t expected to be.
This man, though—with his sharp, knowing gaze and the well-worn ease of someone accustomed to talking his way into or out of anything—wasn’t exactly the kind of presence Onmund had been expecting. But something about him was oddly settling. And that was reason enough to walk over. "Didn’t expect to see a new face around here," Onmund said, his voice carrying the kind of easy confidence that had always served him well. He leaned lightly against the edge of a nearby shelf, arms folded. “You studying something interesting?”
The man glanced up, blinking as though Onmund had pulled him out of a deep train of thought. He looked him over quickly—assessing, measuring. His eyes were green, darkened in the low light, but there was something keen behind them, something watchful. For a moment, Onmund wasn’t sure if he was going to answer. But then the stranger leaned back, as if deciding it was worth humoring him. “That depends,” he said smoothly. “Are you asking because you’re curious, or because you want a recommendation?”
The corner of Onmund’s mouth lifted. “A little of both.” That earned him a flicker of amusement. The man shut his book with a quiet thump and rested his elbow on the table, considering him. “I’m Onmund, by the way,” he added.
The man studied him for a beat longer before giving an easy shrug. “Val.”
Onmund nodded. “So, are you a new apprentice?”
Val seemed to weigh the question for a moment. Then, finally, he said, “Something like that.” It was a non-answer, but Onmund had spent enough time with dodgy classmates to recognize the type. Not secretive, exactly. Just… careful. And Val didn’t give off the same self-important air of some of the scholars here, the ones who spoke in riddles because they liked the sound of their own voices. This was something else.
“Well,” Onmund said, undeterred, “if you need someone to show you around, I know this place better than most.”
Val smirked, something unreadable behind it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before Onmund could decide how to press forward, something in Val’s posture shifted. His gaze flicked toward the entrance of the Arcanaeum—just a small, precise movement, but one that said he was no longer fully engaged in this conversation. Onmund followed his gaze and spotted her.
Lyris. She moved with the kind of presence that demanded attention, though she clearly wasn’t looking for it. Tall, broad-shouldered, but carrying herself with the kind of grace that belied her strength. She looked like someone who belonged in the thick of battle, not a library, yet she moved through the space with quiet ease, her expression neutral. Her dark hair was braided and tucked neatly over one shoulder, the braid long and deliberate, resting against a well-fitted coat that did nothing to soften her sharp lines. Pale, cool-toned skin and piercing blue eyes—really blue, Onmund noted—made her stand out even more beneath the Arcanaeum’s dim light. Imperial, but not delicate. Not soft. She was the kind of person you noticed and instinctively stepped aside for.
She hadn’t noticed them yet. The casual air Val had been wearing like armor wasn’t gone, but it had shifted into something else. Intent. Focus. That subtle, unreadable stillness that didn’t quite register as tension—but wasn’t far from it, either. And in that moment, Onmund knew—Val wasn’t just watching her. He was waiting for her.
Val exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders like shaking off a thought. Then he stood, adjusting his pack with an easy movement. “Excuse me,” he said, nodding toward her. “Looks like my partner is waiting.”
Onmund’s brows lifted slightly. Partner? His gaze flicked back to Lyris, then to Val. Interesting. Something sparked in his chest—not just curiosity, but understanding. They hadn’t exchanged a word, but there was something already there between them. Weighty. Familiar. Like the air had already been cleared between them long before they stepped into the same room. Onmund didn’t say anything, just studied Val a little closer. He had a feeling that whatever this was, he wouldn’t have to ask twice to learn more. Val caught the look, and for just a second, his smirk twitched at the edges—just enough to reveal that, yes, he knew exactly what Onmund was thinking. And no, he wasn’t going to explain himself.
Instead, he tipped his head in an easy farewell. “See you around, Onmund.” Then he strode after her, his steps confident, assured. Onmund watched him go. Watched the way Val naturally fell into stride beside Lyris, the way she barely reacted, like she expected him to be there. The way they moved together, even without a word.
Huh. Onmund smiled to himself, crossing his arms. Yeah. He was going to keep an eye on that.
Val was beginning to suspect that Onmund had no concept of personal space. He hadn’t even noticed the younger Nord approach this time. One moment, the Arcanaeum was quiet—just the sound of parchment rustling and the slow crackling of torches in their sconces. The next, Onmund was easing himself into the seat across from him, setting down a mug of tea like he had always been invited. Val barely glanced up from his book. “You again.”
“You’re always here,” Onmund countered easily, propping his elbows on the table.
Val hummed, turning a page. “Where else should I be?”
Onmund just smirked, taking a sip of his tea. There was no real reason to be annoyed—Onmund was harmless enough, and despite Val’s best efforts, he found that he didn’t really mind the company. But it was becoming increasingly obvious that Onmund didn’t just talk for the sake of it. He paid attention. And that made him dangerous. “Didn’t take you for the bookish type,” Onmund remarked, nodding toward the tome in Val’s hands.
Val arched a brow. “That so?”
“You just don’t seem the type to sit still,” Onmund said with a half-shrug. “Or stay in one place for long.”
Val smirked. “Guess I’m an enigma.”
“Mm. Or you just like the College’s books more than the College itself.”
Damn, this kid was sharp. Val exhaled, sitting back slightly, weighing his response. Onmund had a way of stating things outright—seeing something and saying it, rather than letting it go unspoken. Val, by contrast, made an art of saying things while revealing as little as possible. He shut the book with a quiet thump, tapping his fingers idly against the cover. “You got a point to make, or are you just trying to puzzle me out?”
Onmund grinned, unabashed. “Both.”
Val snorted. “At least you’re honest.”
There was a pause—a moment of easy quiet between them. Onmund took another sip of tea, glancing toward the towering shelves around them before his gaze slid back to Val. And then—
“So, what’s the deal with you and Lyris?”
Val blinked. Then he laughed, caught completely off guard. Onmund just watched him, waiting. Val shook his head, still grinning. “That’s the question you’ve been sitting on?”
“It’s a good question,” Onmund said matter-of-factly.
Val smirked, leaning forward with an elbow on the table. “And why are you so curious, exactly?”
Onmund arched a brow. “Because I know there’s a story there. And you love telling stories.”
Well. Damn. Val exhaled, raking a hand through his hair—still neatly kept, though the day was young. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“Never saw the point,” Onmund said simply. “So?”
Val could have shrugged it off, given some vague, throwaway line. But this? This was an opportunity. And if there was one thing Val never let go to waste, it was a chance to spin a good tale.
He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head, his smirk just a little too self-satisfied. “Ah, well. It’s a long story. Full of danger, intrigue, daring escapes—”
“I knew it,” Onmund cut in, triumphant.
Val grinned. “Didn’t say I was telling it.”
Onmund’s grin flattened into a deadpan look. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet you’re still sitting here,” Val shot back smoothly.
Onmund sighed, but there was no real frustration behind it. He tapped a finger against the side of his mug, considering. “You met her before the College, obviously.”
Val hummed. “Sharp.”
Onmund ignored him. “And you’re not from here. Which means you either sought her out or you just happened to run into her. And somehow, she didn’t immediately run you off.”
Val tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You make it sound like that’s an achievement.”
Onmund gave him a look. “It is.”
That made Val really laugh. Because, well… fair. “Alright,” he conceded. “You want the short version?” Onmund nodded. Val leaned forward, lowering his voice just slightly—purely for effect. “I was minding my own business in Solitude—”
Onmund snorted. “I doubt that.”
Val grinned. “—when I happened upon a young woman with a very particular set of skills.” He made a vague gesture. “Dark hair, sharp eyes, air of ‘don’t waste my time’—”
“That does sound like her.”
“Right?” Val smirked. “Anyway. She needed something. And I? I happened to be the best man for the job.”
Onmund arched a brow. “You happened to be.”
“Pure coincidence,” Val said smoothly.
Onmund stared at him flatly. “You’re telling me Lyris Vatia—the same Lyris who hates wasting time, the same Lyris who would rather do something herself than put up with an idiot—willingly dragged you into something?”
Val pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Willingly saved me, if we’re being specific.”
Onmund narrowed his eyes. Val just kept smiling. And technically, this was all true. She had pulled him off that gods-forsaken island. She had gotten him out of Solitude, thrown a cloak over his shoulders, and told him they were going to Bleak Falls Barrow. But Val also knew that if she hadn’t needed his help retrieving the Dragonstone, she still would have dragged him along. And here was the part he wouldn’t admit yet. Even if she hadn’t saved him from Tarek and the mutiny, even if none of that had happened, he probably would still be right here. But that? That wasn’t a story he was telling. Not yet.
Onmund studied him, like he could see there was more to it. Finally, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Someday, I’ll get the full version.”
Val smirked, leaning back. “Doubt it.” And with that, he flipped his book back open, settling back into his seat like this conversation had never happened. But he knew—he knew—Onmund wasn’t going to let this go.
Onmund wasn’t sure when it happened, exactly. One day, he was just talking to Val, occasionally crossing paths in the Arcanaeum, nudging at him for a story or two. The next? They were sitting together at breakfast like this had always been a thing. And not just sitting together. Lyris was there, too—across from him, chewing through a piece of bread like she was still deciding whether or not the world deserved her patience today. Val sat beside her, one leg stretched lazily beneath the table, his fingers curled around a mug of tea, sharp green eyes flicking between Onmund and Lyris like he was just waiting for something entertaining to happen. And Onmund was just here. Sitting with them. Talking. Like it was normal. How did this happen?
“…You’re staring,” Val said, not even looking up from his tea.
Onmund blinked. “What?”
Val took a slow sip, exhaling like he had all the time in the world. “You’ve got that look. Like you’re thinking very hard about something.”
Lyris let out a quiet snort, not bothering to glance up. “That’s dangerous.”
Onmund rolled his eyes. “I was just thinking—”
“Oh, that is dangerous,” Val interrupted, smirking over his mug.
Onmund ignored him. “I was thinking about what you told me a while ago.” He tilted his head slightly. “About how you met.”
Lyris’ eyes flicked up, brow arching slightly. “He told you?”
Val made a vague gesture. “I gave him the short version.”
Lyris let out a low hum, unimpressed. “Did you, now?” She didn’t look at Val when she said it, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she was holding back the actual version.
Onmund leaned forward slightly, arms crossed on the table. “Alright. Your turn.”
Across from them, Val leaned back in his seat, entirely too pleased with himself. “Careful, Onmund,” he drawled. “She might hurt your feelings.”
Onmund ignored him. “Well?”
Lyris exhaled through her nose, took a slow sip of tea—and smiled, just barely. “What, you want the real story?” She shook her head once. “You’ll likely be disappointed.” She paused, eyeing Onmund like she was still debating it. Then, with a sigh that wasn’t entirely serious: “But fine… I tracked him down.”
Onmund blinked. “Tracked?”
Val grinned, already enjoying this too much. “Sounds impressive when you say it like that.”
Lyris gave him a look. “It was impressive. I had to listen to more than one sorry drunk tell me the same half-baked story about a jail break and a fight near the back gate of Solitude before I finally got the truth.” She gestured vaguely at Val. “Found him marooned on a rock, trying to drink his way into a plan.”
Onmund’s brows lifted. “So you went looking for him?”
Lyris shrugged. “I needed a smuggler. And he needed to not get himself killed.”
Val exhaled, long-suffering. “This again?”
Lyris ignored him. “There was a mutiny.”
Onmund’s gaze flicked to Val. “A mutiny.”
Val waved a hand. “Minor inconvenience.” Lyris arched a brow. Val sighed. “Alright, a bloody minor inconvenience.”
Onmund frowned. “And she just—what? Showed up and helped you?”
Val smirked. “Dragged me, more like.”
Lyris shrugged, unbothered. “Made sure he handled his mess before we left. I needed him for a job, not a liability.”
Onmund tapped a finger idly against the table. “But you could’ve found someone else.”
She tilted her head, considering—not surprised by the question. If anything, it looked like one she’d already asked herself. “Maybe,” she said at last. Onmund glanced between them, watching the way Val stayed quiet. Not suspicious. Just… thoughtful. And then Lyris, without even looking at Val, turned the question back on him. “So,” she said, voice dry, “your turn.” She gestured toward Val with a lazy wave. “What’s your excuse?”
Val blinked. “Excuse?”
Lyris met his gaze. “For still being here.”
The pause that followed wasn’t long. Barely a breath. Onmund didn’t think much of it—except that Val had an answer already lined up, and yet, for a fraction of a second, he didn’t say it. Then, with a slow, easy grin, he shrugged. “Well, you are very persuasive.”
Lyris snorted. “Oh, please.”
Val smirked, resting his chin in his hand. “Maybe something about this place just keeps pulling me back.”
Lyris rolled her eyes. And that was that.
Onmund smirked, shaking his head as he leaned back. “You two are ridiculous.”
Val only grinned. “We do our best.”
Lyris exhaled, reaching for her tea again, already done with the conversation. And Onmund, satisfied with the answer—even if he didn’t quite believe it—let the subject drop.
Onmund found Val alone in the Arcanaeum again—same seat, same half-suspicious pile of books that suggested a mix of genuine study and calculated avoidance. The man had a way of making research look like a long con. He didn’t even look up as Onmund approached. “You again. What’d you do this time?”
“Nothing,” Onmund said, then paused. “Yet.”
That got Val’s attention. He raised his head, gaze sharp with interest. “Go on.”
“I need your help with something,” Onmund said quietly, pulling the chair back and settling across from him. “Something... private.”
Val arched a brow. “Private like, ‘Don’t tell anyone I set fire to a daedra,’ or private like, ‘I’m going to regret being involved’?”
“Neither,” Onmund said. “But I’d appreciate it if this stayed between us.”
He waited, and to Val’s credit, the sarcasm eased off—just a little. “Alright,” he said, voice lower now. “What is it?”
Onmund took a breath. “I made a deal with Enthir. I needed something, and he offered it—for a price. I gave him an amulet. My family’s.” He hesitated. “It was a mistake. I wasn’t thinking. And now he won’t give it back.”
Val leaned back slowly, watching him. “What did you need?”
Onmund shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. And it’s not your concern. What matters is the amulet—it’s... it’s all I have left of them.” There was no self-pity in his tone, only a quiet kind of resolve. “They weren’t exactly supportive. They didn’t want me to come here. But they’re still my family. I didn’t think about that when I handed it over. I just thought... I needed something more. Something immediate.”
Val was silent for a moment, fingers tapping once on the table. “And you want me to talk to Enthir.”
“He listens to you,” Onmund said. “He won’t even speak to me about it anymore.”
Val hummed, almost amused. “You’re sure this isn’t just a ploy to get me in his debt?”
Onmund offered a dry smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
There was a pause. Then Val stood, stretching lazily. “Alright. Let’s go find out what he wants for your heirloom.”
Relief eased into Onmund’s chest, though he kept his voice even. “Thank you.”
Val hadn’t laughed him off. He hadn’t asked questions he had no right to. He’d just stood up and said yes. That stuck with Onmund more than he expected. Val glanced at him sidelong as they walked toward the stairs. “Just don’t make a habit of getting into deals you can’t walk out of.”
“Believe me,” Onmund said, “lesson learned.”
They ended up in the Hall of Attainment’s corner lounge, one of the few common spaces that didn’t smell like spilled ale or failed conjuration attempts. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering light across the stone walls, and Onmund slid a bottle across the small table between them. Val caught it without looking, holding it up with mild appreciation. “Black-Briar Reserve. Fancy.”
“You earned it,” Onmund said, settling back with his own drink. “Or so I’m told.”
Val arched a brow. “So you’re just going to believe I got it back through charm and guile, huh?”
Onmund took a sip. “I figured I shouldn’t ask.”
Val smirked into his bottle. “Smart man.”
He let the silence stretch just long enough to make it seem like there might be a story coming. Then: “You should’ve seen it,” Val said, voice dropping into something half-conspiratorial. “Enthir barricaded himself in his room. Took three scrolls, a locked chest, and a very tense negotiation involving a dancing flame atronach and half of Brelyna’s quill collection.”
Onmund snorted. “You’re lying.”
“Only a little,” Val said, eyes gleaming.
“Which part?”
Val tilted the bottle in his hand, feigning deep thought. “The barricade. And the chest. And the atronach. The quills were real, though.”
Onmund shook his head, amused. “You could’ve just said he gave it back.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Val said, leaning back with a lazy grin.
Onmund smiled, then reached into his pocket and held out the amulet—his amulet. He ran his thumb over the familiar surface, grounding himself in the weight of it. “I didn’t think I’d see it again.”
Val’s tone dropped, just slightly. “You were lucky. He was in a decent mood.”
Onmund looked up, studying him for a second. “Still. You didn’t have to do it.”
Val raised his bottle in a small salute. “Consider it an act of goodwill. Or boredom. Dealer’s choice.”
There was another beat of quiet, broken only by the pop of the fire and the clink of glass against stone. Then Onmund said, softly, “Thanks.”
Val didn’t respond with words, just a small incline of his head. And that, Onmund figured, was about as close to sincerity as Val let people get. He wasn’t just the dependable one anymore. Maybe now, he was the kind of person someone like Val Serano noticed before the rest of the world did. That had to count for something.