Hello and welcome to my new Skyrim story! This is a Quintus Navale/F!DB fanfiction. I have no idea why I started writing it or why I chose Quintus but for some reason I did. There's a terrible lack of fanfiction out there for these types of characters so naturally I felt the need to contribute. Before you start reading, let me just iron out some of the details so you're not confused later on:
My Dragonborn is really blasé and chill. She doesn't really understand emotions. That's not to say that she's a sociopath, it's just that she doesn't care much about human emotions. I wanted to play on the whole half-dragon side of her and explore her other half. She'll slowly begin to get more human as the story progresses. If you want to see a picture of her, I'll be adding a screenshot on my profile when I get the chance.
The other thing is that I wanted to play around with the whole alchemy world, since Quintus is an alchemist. I changed a couple of things around and added chemistry-esque terms because I needed to flesh the trade out more. I am by no means talented with chemistry, but I wanted to give it a try. If I get anything wrong, please let me know so I can fix it!
I plan on updating this story several times a week, as the chapters are fairly short and easy to write. You can expect at least three updates every week.
Okay, on with the story!
Legerdemain
Chapter One | Lady's Mantle
The first time Quintus Navale laid eyes upon her, it was ten minutes to closing. Windhelm at night was cold and dangerous, what with the Butcher walking around freely. Most of their business was during the day, when it was safe to move around under the watchful, protective gaze of the guards. He thought it strange to see a customer so late. Stranger, even, that the customer was so…well, fierce.
She didn't seem to have any penchant for alchemy whatsoever. Warriors often didn't. They also often wrote off the spectacular uses of the trade as a waste of time and 'childish'. But this woman was like no warrior he'd ever seen. In fact, she was like no woman he'd ever seen. She stood tall, proud, wrapped up in tight black armor for which Quintus could not name. He had never before seen it in all his travels, few as they were.
His master was not happy to see her. He heard them bickering back and forth for a full minute before the telltale thump of potions told him that they were trading. That was when Quintus peered around the corner and watched the transaction. The woman noticed him, her eyes sweeping over his momentarily. But then his master said in his usual cranky voice, "This is all I can give you. Where'd you get all these potions anyway?" Nurelion began stacking them neatly behind the counter. Quintus inched closer and waited for the response, because he was wondering the exact same thing. There must have been near to twenty unopened vials, some of which were expensive.
The woman shrugged nonchalantly, weighing the coin purse Nurelion had shoved her way with a blasé expression. It wasn't nearly enough money to cover the more costly potions, but she didn't seem to care. She'd even thrown in an extra one for free because it was 'just wasting space'.
"Oh, you know," she said, pocketing the money, "here and there." The answer was so maddeningly simple that it had Nurelion growling at her, insisting, "You don't just stumble upon a potion of Lingering Invisibility or any of these potent poisons! Do you know how much work goes into making these?! Of course you don't! You haven't spent time at an alchemy station even once, have you?!" The question, obviously rhetorical, made the newcomer a little offended. Quintus groaned under his breath, starting up the countdown he had come to perfect over the years spent working beneath his master's tutelage. (The countdown, that is, of how long the customer can stay before storming outside while muttering obscenities under their breaths.)
"Of course I have!" the Nordic woman exclaimed, her expression turning fierce, wild, and yet somehow…amused. Like she was playing a funny game in which she had already won. She had yet to learn that Nurelion did not play games, though. He just complained your ear off until you did exactly as he said and somehow, somehow made you want to please him. Quintus had first hand experience.
"Oh really?" the high elf said imperiously, with a heavy heaping of doubt in his voice. He glowered at the Nord and said, "What's the point of making potions if you don't even use them, you stupid girl?" Quintus swallowed a wave of exhausted disdain, which stemmed entirely from the words and the way they lilted so easily over his master's tongue. But the Nord didn't even blink at the insult. She completely ignored it, a feat that her other Nord brethren had yet been able to do. Something about Nords and their pride. Nurelion always had fun twisting them in circles with his wit, but this one seemed to have another agenda entirely, and it had nothing to do with playing into his hands.
The woman laughed a little and said slowly, like she was speaking to a child. (Quintus found himself sort of idolizing her by now, for no one had ever spoken to his master that way and it was exciting to watch.) "Obviously I make money off of them, old man." She said nothing about the fact that she did, on occasion, use her own potions. The health ones and the stamina ones and sometimes she'd coat the tips of her arrows with poison. But when she was raiding tombs or bandit camps or some such thing, she didn't like leaving the spoils of war behind. She thought it probably had something to do with the fact that her greedy dragon soul yearned for wealth and gold.
Nurelion grit his teeth. It was definitely closing time by now, probably past closing time, but instead of kicking her out of his shop Nurelion just slammed his hand on the counter and said, oddly calm, "If you're so interested in making money, I've got a job for you. Otherwise you can get out of my shop, Nord."
Quintus fully expected to see her leave. But instead she raised an eyebrow and eagerly asked, "Job? Tell me what you want, old man." Nurleion didn't even blink at the apparent nickname she'd given him. He reached below the counter and pulled out his journal. And Quintus, who knew exactly what his master was going to say, finally stepped forward to put an end to it.
"Master…you don't even know if that exists. It would be a fool's errand to send this woman to fetch it! You're sending her to her death!" he knew that the woman was watching him now, possibly wondering why his words were so ominous. He knew that said words were only an annoyance to his master, but they had to be mentioned anyway. As he expected, Nurelion wasted no time in brushing him aside. "Quiet, boy! This is my life's work! I'll pay you generously if you can find it for me," he said to the Nord. Then he went off into his usual rampage about the White Phial and its multiple uses and how he's been searching for it for the better half of his life.
Quintus watched the woman nod her head, pocket the little, hastily scrawled picture of the Phial, and turn. He caught eyes with her for a split second before she gave him a smile and said, walking away, "I'll be back within a fortnight with your potion, old man." The arrogant lilt of her voice made Nurelion grumble as he watched her leave. Quintus faced his master and watched him label the new potions he'd bought from the Nord. And he really couldn't stop himself from blurting, "I can't believe you just sent that woman on a wild goose chase to find something that may or may not even be there."
Nurelion, in his usual biting manner, turned to Quintus and glowered, "If she's okay with gallivanting through draugr infested tombs on her off days, I'm sure the Nord will be fine with going through one more."
Quintus, baffled, asked, "Why do you think she makes a point of raiding Nord burial tombs?!" Because since she herself was a Nord, Quintus found it difficult to fathom why she would desecrate her own ancestor's resting places. But Nurelion merely rolled his eyes and said grumpily, "The potions she gave me smell of death, boy. There's only one place they could have come from." He muttered something about 'crazy, stupid Nords' and stood straighter. A moment later he was walking for the stairs.
"Make sure you lock the door before you go to sleep," he called as he ascended them. Quintus just stared at the potions lining the inner shelf of the counter and then glanced at the door, surprised and fascinated and maybe a little (a tiny bit) awed.