He looked desperately into his former mentor's eyes. "I just want to know...why." Lifting his frail head, the old mage met his gaze boldly. "It was because...he was everything I could never have…" – Long after his bitter departure from the College of Winterhold, a former student returns in the night in order to finally reconcile forty years of grievances with the dying Arch-Mage.

THE ARCH-MAGE'S SON

Sundas, 30th day of First Seed, 4E 315

For the first time in decades, it seemed, the dark skies above Winterhold were not blocked out from view by a raging blizzard of ice. It was preferable weather, at least, compared to what the few remaining residents of Winterhold had experienced in the past. But to anyone else, the ice still had not melted, the winds had not died down, and the perpetual bitter cold that lingered in those far northern reaches of the province still remained.

The sun had just set and as his rickety carriage neared the town, Telindil could just make out the dark form of the College of Mages looming over the town in the distance. It was just as he had remembered it from all those years ago; an imposing behemoth fortress with carved spires, taller than anything he had ever seen before– the only remainder of Winterhold's former glory.

To think he'd ever want to come back to this place… and to see the Arch-Mage of all people! Bah! Telindil shifted in his seat. No, it was no matter. The old Altmer was sick and he was here to reconcile with him.His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the carriage driver abruptly pulling up the horses. As he began to re-straighten his frayed travelling robes, the gruff Nord carriage driver at the front turned bluntly to face him.

"Wha? Got a dirt speck on yer dress yeh poncy elf? Heh! It ain't much use." he laughed heartily, reaching over to take a swig of strong-smelling ale from a skin. As he put the skin back down, Telindil swore he could see the ale freeze on the Nord's whiskers. "Ah, well. I suppose you'd want to get goin'," the driver continued, "Up to that College… Oh please, hear me out, ser, unless you'd got some real important business in the College this late at night, I'd advise against going near that place. The mages– "

Egad. Not this kind of talk again… Telindil quickly silenced the driver with a small pouch of coins he had prepared earlier. As a matter of fact, he did have important business in the College and had wasted enough time getting to Winterhold. He was not going to let himself be held up any longer by the superstitions of some inebriated Nord carriage driver – well, even if the man's heart was in the right place. The driver slowly eyed the pouch before fumbling to empty the gold into his own pocket. Telindil turned away and sighed. Though he loved the ways that magic could be used for good, Telindil understood all too well why the local Nords feared and shunned mages. A thought back to his last years at the College began to creep into his mind. Ugh. He clenched his fists and shook the thought away. No, no, no. He mustn't let it get to him now. "Well, if you ever need to be gettin' out anytime soon," the carriage driver slurred, the scent of ale wafting from his whiskered mouth, "You just look out fer me." And with that, he climbed off the front of the carriage and lumbered across the snow to a weather-battered inn, leaving Telindil alone in the cold.

As the night deepened, the cold winds began to pick up again. Telindil shivered, and, wrapping his frayed travelling robes around his body, he began to slog through the single, snow-covered road through the town as quickly as he could. As difficult as it was, he remembered from his younger years that walking across the thick snow in Winterhold was safe compared to the path leading up to the College of Mages. Looking up at ahead of him past the creaking houses in town, he could see that the narrow stone bridge seemed to have been beaten even more into a state of disrepair by the centuries and it lay crumbling across the chasm between Winterhold and the College. He was almost at the stone bridge when he noticed a few guardsmen chatting around a small fire. He initially paid no attention to them but as he passed, his ears suddenly pricked up.

"Wow! Would you just look up at that! The sky behind the College is lit up all purple. Ain't that pretty? But I've gotta admit, it looks mighty sinister like that."

"The damn place always looks sinister. Ain't nothing good ever happened because of it. They say it's cursed."

"Who's they'?"

"Oh, you know, some of the older folk, the one's who've been here long. They say the whole city just mysteriously fell off the cliff one day – Great Collapse, they called it. Then, townsfolk started disappearing and even some of the mages too."

"Run off, you think? I know I'd run off if the city fell off a cliff."

"Nah, you don't get it. It was caused by the mages. All of it. And you know what I say? I say it's fitting the gods finally cracked down on the Arch-Mage now, for all his College's done. I hear he's sick, mad, dying, or all three!"

And that was it. Telindil had heard enough. He was never really one to believe any of the gossip that came from townsfolk or guardsmen but if what guard had said about Arch-Mage's frail health had been true, he didn't have much time before the old elf passed. Oh, by the Eight… Was he too late? All of a sudden, Telindil forgot the dangerous chasm and the Sea of Ghosts below the bridge and stormed up to the College, grabbing onto what remaining stone rails were left for support. After passing the numerous unlit beacons along the bridge, he finally stopped, panting and out of breath, at the wrought-iron gates of the College. The heavy gates remained shut and for what seemed an eternity, he waited anxiously for them to open. Nothing. Then, he realised. Gods! How stupid of him to forget about the gates! The decades he spent away from the College meant they were probably never going to open and if the Arch-Mage had still not forgotten... Oblivion take him! Those heavy iron gates used to make him feel so safe behind the walls of the College and now, they barred his way, wasting precious time. The Arch-Mage could be dead already and he'd never be able to talk to him. He beat his fists on the bars in frustration as the cold winds blew past him. Suddenly…

"Who goes there?" a male voice came from in front of him. Telindil looked up. From behind the iron gates stood a stout, middle-aged Imperial mage. The man conjured a ball of Magelight in his hand right, and waved it violently in Telindil's face through the bars. Then, after eyeing him from head to toe, examining every inch of his frayed travelling robes and frostbitten skin, the Imperial wrinkled his pudgy face. "Hmph. You're not some belligerent local come to complain about us but it's gods-only-know-what time of night and you're standing here making that kind of racket! You're obviously not from the College so you'd better explain yourself. Quickly now!"

"I was from the College, some twenty years ago," Telindil replied loudly. In the dim light, he could not make out the exact identity of the Imperial but he seemed familiar… In the dim light, he could just make out the Imperial's beady eyes darting around curiously. "Used to be from the College, you say? Well, judging from this," he rattled the bars of the closed gate and squinted his eyes, "The Arch-Mage does not seem to want you in here. What's your name?"

"Telindil," he looked down at the Imperial, "And as a matter of fact, I came to visit the Arch-Mage." Suddenly, upon hearing his name, the stout man's eyes widened. "Telindil…?" he stammered out, "Is that really you? Why, it's been so long! It's me, Claudio! You know, little Claudio Curio from two classes below?" He recast his fading ball of Magelight to get a better view. "And why, you look so different! I was always so used to seeing you wearing your bright Adept robes," he peered through the bars of the gate, "And you're so old!" Then, catching himself, Claudio quickly held his mouth and apologised quietly. Telindil sighed. It was true. Though he was young, at least in Altmer years, the stresses he experienced later in life had cost him his looks. His the glowing skin he had in his youth had become dull and small lines had begun to appear on his thin face. His once light-coloured hair had darkened into a mousy colour over the decades and now even sported a few strands of silver.

"Look I'm so, so sorry about that. Oh goodness, but I really loved your work. That steel dagger you enchanted for the Arch-Mage? I remember seeing it on his desk years ago! Where is it now? Gods, I hope he's still got it around somewhere. I'll be so sad if he's sold it." By the Eight divines! Did he ever shut up? Telindil gave another exasperated sigh as Claudio talked on. He just didn't have the heart to tell him to be quiet. The stout, jolly Imperial that stood before him brought back painful memories of an old friend, many, many years ago...
"I don't even know why you left the College! The Arch-Mage thought you were the best, yes! Oh wait. Well, maybe the Arch-Mage thought that whats-his-face was the best at everything but I never really liked him." At that last comment, Telindil tensed up. He quickly turned to the pudgy Imperial before him and waved his hand. The man suddenly fell silent. "Thank you, Claudio. But do you mind?" he rattled the bars of the gate, "I have urgent business with the Arch-Mage. I know he's ill but that's why I've come. It can't wait."

"Yes, yes. Right you are." Claudio cast a spell at the gate which Telindil did not recognise. Finally, the great iron gates creaked open and Telindil followed the waddling Claudio into through the frozen courtyard. "I don't know what you've got to tell the Arch-Mage," Claudio said, "But it's probably really important if you can't wait 'till morning." They stopped just outside the entrance to the main. Telindil eyed the great wooden doors to the hall. "You probably still know the way through the Hall of the Elements," Claudio picked up again, "But I'll have to escort you to the Arch-Mage's Quarters. You know, just in case someone sees you. This way, they won't give you any trouble because you're with me." As they stepped into back the Hall of Elements, the sight of his old school almost took Telindil's breath away. No matter how many times he had seen the Hall of the Elements, even after forty years, it still never failed to amaze him. The giant vaulted ceiling, the tall glass windows, the marble floor– Telindil felt his mind wandering, taking him back to his fond early years in the College. It felt almost surreal.

"No, not there! This way!" Claudio's voice suddenly shot through, bringing Telindil back from his reverie. Claudio motioned with a fat palm in the direction of a small stone door on the left. "Now you've just got to keep quiet because I'll get into trouble for leading you up there. The Arch-Mage is sick but the others won't hesitate to give me a good scolding. Now come on!" And, sighing with relief and some nervous anticipation, Telindil slowly climbed up the dark stairs leading to the Arch-Mage's Quarters.

"Arch-Mage? I know it's a bit late, but there's someonewho wants to see you." Claudio whispered into the room nervously. Telindil walked right past him. Seeing the Arch-Mage's Quarters after forty years brought back memories. He examined the room carefully. It was still grand and expansive but, everything was so dim and… empty. The bright balls of Magelight which used to hover over the centre of the room had been left to fade, and only a few candles kept the room lit with an eerie glow. The once bountiful alchemical garden seemed to have been left to wither with only a few wilting plants remaining. And the shelves on the walls, which, Telindil remembered once held a multitude of the Arch-Mage's personally-crafted potions, were almost completely bare except for the few dusty cobwebs which had accumulated over the years. It was terrible how he had completely neglected it over the years. Had he really let himself fall so far?

A tired groan followed by a series of wheezing coughs interrupted Telindil's thoughts. The Imperial walked slowly behind the stone wall that separated the Arch-Mage's bed from the antechamber, beckoning impatiently for Telindil to follow.

"Oh, Claudio…is that you? Who is there? Who has come to visit me…?"

As Telindil walked into the smaller room, he finally saw him; his old teacher, lying still on a large bed, slumped against a worn wooden headboard. He was a pitiful, withered husk of an Altmer, with a few remaining wisps of white hair on his speckled head and a long, tangled grey beard. The old elf slowly turned his head on the pillow and squinted in his direction. Telindil noticed that the Arch-Mage's grey eyes, which were once so bright and knowledgeable, were now dull and bloodshot. By the Eight divines, he looks terrible. "Please…I can't see him very well…" the old mage croaked weakly.

"Well sir," Claudio started, "He's one of your old students, a good one, if you don't mind me adding. But I suppose it's to be expected, him being a high elf and all… " All of a sudden, the old mage suddenly cried out so loudly that it made the two almost jump back in shock.

"Oh…oh my goodness… is it really you?" he cried. His dull eyes suddenly seemed to light up with joy, "Have you come back to see me?" His voice faded away and he began feebly trying to sit up. "Ah well, I suppose I should leave the both of you now," Claudio said cheerfully and quickly turned to leave the room. Telindil quickly rushed ahead and knelt by his old teacher's bedside.

"I've… I've missed you so much…" the old mage croaked, "I think…I've missed you the most…" Telindil gently looked into his old teacher's tired face. Did he really miss me this much? He thought hopefully. Did he… finally move on? "How many years… how many years! And you're finally back!" the Arch-Mage cried out happily and he slowly lifted a withered skeletal hand to brush aside Telindil's mousy hair. Telindil gave a quivering smile.

"I came as soon as I heard you were ill. You still remember me, sir?" he said gently and looking into the old elf's eyes, he saw that there were tears of joy in them though strangely, he noticed, they did not look back at him directly. Telindil pushed the minor thought aside. "Do you still remember me? I was your student. You were tough and demanding but you still taught me so much."

"Ah! Oh, how could I– how could I possibly forget!" the old mage cried out and, after giving a heaving, wheezing cough, he smiled feebly, "I always knew you were…were the best! Ha ha! You were the best…"

Telindil almost stepped back. "Really?" he asked, almost in disbelief, "Truly? All that time, did you really think that I was the best? Better than– " He stopped. Better not spoil the moment. The old mage did not seem to notice his gaffe and gave a quivering smile. "Nothing but my…best!" he gasped, "My best student!" Telindil looked into the Arch-Mage's eyes. Then, he smiled victoriously and began to laugh. Divines bless him! When was the last time I was this happy? He thought. He knew it! He always knew that he was the best student! Telindil looked back down at the old elf's face to see him chuckling along with him. Oh, finally! It took him forty years to move on and realise it but now, now he appreciates me! Gods, I should never have left the College! I should have stayed and shown him more of my talents with magic, make him forget everything to do with–

"My son! You…you were like a son to me. Wait, no! You were my son! Ha ha! My son…" the Arch-Mage exclaimed happily, and reached out from the bed towards Telindil. Telindil stopped laughing. His… son? Odd. He never thought of me that way, we were never that close– No, something was not right. He slowly moved back, out of the Arch-Mage's reach. "Heh…heh… wha…?" the Arch-Mage cried out, surprised, "My boy, I can't… seem reach you. Have you moved away?" He looked around blindly and began flail desperately. "My boy! Where are you?" Then, the old elf made one last fruitless grasp at the empty air before his arms sank down, exhausted. With small tears beginning to form in his bloodshot eyes, he finally gasped out a name. "Malvasian?"

"WHAT?!" Telindil stood up suddenly. Malvasian?! The old fool had mistaken him for MALVASIAN?! "No, you idiot!" he yelled, "I came all this way to visit you! It's me, Telindil! Telindil!" He pointed at himself furiously, panting. "Malvasian is dead! You hear me? He's been dead for years and years and he'll stay dead! He's dead!"

The old mage lay unmoving on the bed, dull eyes staring up at the high stone ceiling. Nothing. Telindil stared, panting. Eventually, the old mage slowly turned to face him. "Telindil? Oh it's you, Telindil…" His wrinkled lips quivered. "Do… do you know where he is? My son, Malvasian…"

And that was it. Telindil snapped and flew at him in a blinding rage. "He's not your son! You don't have a son!" he screamed, almost grabbing the Arch-Mage's body and shaking him, "Malvasian was a corrupt and reckless…idiot! Why him?! Over me?" He was almost in tears. Finally, exhausted and out of breath, Telindil sank down against the wall to the cold stone floor. Looking over to the bed, he noticed that the old elf was in a state of shock; eyes wide open and gasping for breath. Telindil saw how it was. He sighed, shaking in frustration. There was no way that this gasping and senile old elf would give him the answers he had been looking for. Slowly, he rose dejectedly from the floor and left the bedchamber.

"Drink." Telindil said flatly, and held a frosted white bottle to the old elf's lips. The White Phial, kindly donated to the College decades ago by the Dragonborn, if he remembered his studies. Perhaps its fabled healing powers will shake this damned fool's wits together for a short while. "Drink," Telindil ordered again, this time, with more force. The old mage did not (or could not) protest and drank reluctantly. Telindil watched on as he heaved and gagged in disgust and then, finally, shook himself into a more conscious state. Good. The he turned to face Telindil directly.

"Forty years, Telindil. No contact for forty years and you come back only when you hear that your old teacher is dying," he breathed out weakly. Telindil noticed a hint of resentment in his voice. Had he remembered everything I said earlier? "Well, let's hear it. Have you come to say your goodbyes?"

Telindil did not look at the Arch-Mage. "I just want to know why. Why do you still worship him?" He spat out the word 'him' with venom. "It's been forty damned years! Oblivion take you! All my life in the College I spent just trying to prove to you that I was a worthy student. And for what? What the hell did Malvasian do so brilliantly that you were completely blinded by him and forgot about loyal students like me? He could have killed us all, you fool!" Telindil turned to face his former teacher, and looked desperately into his eyes, trying to find an answer. "I just want to know…why," he whispered, his voice wavering.

The Arch-Mage, lifting his frail head, met Telindil's gaze boldly for a while. "It was because…" he finally spoke, tears welling up in his eyes, "That boy was everything I could never have…" And at last, the old mage's head sank back into his pillow.

A/N:

Well, that's the first chapter of my story, which I hope you guys like. And, while this story makes sense in my head, I don't know if this makes sense only in my head. So please review or I will FUS RO DAH you!