A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of Arcanium! This will be an Onmund/F!DB story. In my humble opinion, there's a sad lack of Onmund fanfiction out there, so I think it's only right to do what I can to change that! If you're new to my writing, feel free to check out my other Skyrim story, Legerdemain, which is focused around Quintus Navale and my Dragonborn. The story will be updated 2-3 times a week, since they're pretty short chapters.

Please leave a review if you feel inclined. I'm curious to know what people think of my Dragonborn as we get into the story.

Full Summary: Rannve hated mages. They were all talk. She preferred action. Of course, when her quest takes her to the College of Winterhold, to a librarian who distrusts her and a mage apprentice who seems to worship the ground she walks on, her perspective begins to change.

Onmund isn't a standard mage, after all. In fact, he seems to surpass every single standard that Rannve has ever encountered. Falling for him is surprisingly easy, at least when she realizes that she actually doesn't mind his tendency for admiring her as much as she'd thought.

As for him, well. He can't really be blamed for just a little bit of hero-worship, can he? She is, after all, the Dragonborn extraordinaire.


Arcanium

Chapter One | Frostbite

It was a particularly snowy day when he first saw her. It was snowing hard and had been all through the morning classes. In Winterhold it snowed nearly every day and so this wasn't really surprising, but everyone liked to complain about it anyhow. Onmund was much too busy to let a little snow put him off however, and that was why he happened to be in the library at precisely the right time.

He was leafing through a book on wards. Tolfdir had begun to teach them the basics of such spells and had assigned homework on the matter, and so Onmund was busily reading and theorizing on the intricacies of restoration casting, the effects it had on the body, and the different areas of the mind used to properly draw forth the energy, and so on and so forth. He was so busy in fact that he hardly even noticed the woman who walked rather loudly into the silent Arcanaeum. She certainly made him notice her, though, when she stepped right up to Urag gro-Shub and said none too quietly, "Afternoon. I was told you could give me information regarding something of a delicate matter."

Onmund glanced over from his chair. He was half buried in books and papers, his fingers stained and inky, and was already quite tired from all this abhorrent reading. But his mind was still sharp enough to realize when something required attention. And while this situation might not require his said attention, he was all too willing to give it anyhow. It was certainly not every day, after all, that the rather ostentatious Head Librarian was spoken to in such a blunt manner. Curious, Onmund thought, and very amusing indeed to watch the Orc frown and stumble up, mouth flapping at the audacity of the sudden meeting.

After a moment of this, Urag scowled a particularly frightful scowl (all Orcs had quite vicious looking ones – it was the fangs most likely) and growled, "Oh really? I don't know you, and I don't give my books away to anyone who isn't a student or faculty member, so scram."

Onmund couldn't see the Nord woman's face, but he certainly did notice the slight hardening of her shoulders. Urag noticed too, and his scowl turned even more annoyed. The library rang with deadened silence as he waited for a fight of some kind to break out. It wouldn't be the first time to happen, what with their stubborn librarian, and it seemed only reasonable for words to get heavier, angrier…except that it didn't happen.

Instead, the woman just huffed and rolled her eyes, "Then perhaps you'd be interested to know that I am a student here. Just joined today. Now I'd appreciate you being a little more helpful, Orc."

The scowl deepened into a glower that easily would have sent Onmund running had it been directed at him, but the woman remained surprisingly firm in her stance. He really wished he could have seen her face. As it was, he was only allowed the glimpse of her back and couldn't see what Urag saw. A frightening expression no doubt had taken a hold of her features, for he saw the Orc hesitate, something that had never before happened. Very curious indeed.

Somehow she must have known that the only way to get an Orc to do something was to prove that you weren't a total milkdrinker, and this woman certainly was nothing of the kind, if the wicked gleam of her sword had anything to say on the matter. He rarely saw mages who used actual weapons. Then again, he rarely saw a Nord who didn't. He was an exception to his race, to be sure.

Urag grumbled, glared, and muttered, "What do you need then? I'm busy if you hadn't noticed, and I don't need any more bumbling Nords filling up my library." A rather edged looked was sent in Onmund's direction and he bit his tongue, turning to bury his face back into the dusty old tome he was half-skimming. He saw the Nord woman turn, glance at him, and then raise an eyebrow as if she was surprised to see him there. Perhaps she hadn't noticed him upon her entrance, hasty as it was. And, he thought with a slight grimace, she was probably a little taken off guard at the mention of a Nord studying at the College, for such things were rather hard to come by these days. Mages were not looked upon very highly, and Nord mages were looked upon even worse.

"Hmmm," the woman merely said, not taking any further notice of him. The moment she turned back, Onmund sagged with relief and sighed, glancing back up to continue watching the exchange. He was glad indeed that Urag seemed to have turned his attention elsewhere too. He was uncomfortable being noticed, especially by the fearsome librarion.

"I need information on the Elder Scrolls. It's extremely important," she said, crossing her arms in an intimidating fashion. Orcs were not so easily frightened though, and Urag merely raised his eyebrows and demanded fiercely, "What could a Nord want with an Elder Scroll?! You aren't a conjurer of dark things are you? We already have one of those, we don't need another."

The woman sighed as if she was speaking to a child and said, "If you must know, I need one to travel back in time to learn a dragon Shout that will help me defeat the World Eater, Alduin."

Urag stared for a brief moment, then chuckled. Then his chuckle turned into a very fierce laugh, then into one of those laughs that made your belly ache. And in the midst of his laughter, the snarky Librarian gasped, "That's…that's good…now tell me the one about the talking sweetroll…"

The woman sighed again. Onmund stared. (He had never before seen Urag laugh and it was a frightful sight, and it rather reminded him of his family's farm where sometimes one of the sheep got loose and became a wolf's midnight snack.) And – what was this about Alduin? Onmund was a Nord, though perhaps not the most conventional of sorts, and he had grown up to the stories about dragons. He knew, then, that if this woman was going to defeat Alduin, then that meant she was the Dragonborn, and that was rather amazing.

"Then you don't believe I am the Dragonborn?" the woman asked, and shrugged, "I'm not surprised. There are many ignorant fools such as yourself who have never even seen a dragon, let alone one born into human skin. I'll ask one more time and before I start getting angry, Orc. Will you give me information on the Elder Scrolls?"

Now, Urag was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way, and he did not like seeing all his hard earned respect draining away so quickly. His job happened to be extremely important. Not just anyone could keep this library as clean as it was, and protect all the books from bumbling apprentices. And so Urag was not amused any longer, and his laughter died down quickly upon hearing her call him an 'ignorant fool'. He did not appreciate that, not at all.

"Look, Nord," he growled, completely unwilling to bend to her will. Whether she really was the Dragonborn or not, it mattered little to him. Orcs cared nothing for the legends of other races, and he was growing angry at having to deal with this self-proclaimed hero. He had work to do after all, papers to file and books to order, and he didn't have the time to deal with annoying Nord women. He frowned mightily and said, "When you can prove that you're a student here, I'll assist you in your research. For all I know, you're only masquerading as one in order to steal my books – "

"Suspicious old fool!" the Nord woman muttered, turning away without listening to the rest of Urag's words. And the moment she turned, Onmund couldn't look away from her, for he had never seen such a small, petit Nord woman, and one so unusually pretty either. He looked bashfully away when she stormed past, but his eyes quickly flickered back to her at the first opportunity, and he stared at her for as long as he was allowed, until she disappeared from the Arcanaeum altogether. Then Onmund turned his eyes to Urag, curiously wondering how the old Orc was holding up after such a tiring argument.

As usual, it seemed as if the Orc was entirely unfazed by everything that just happened, but Onmund knew better. He could see the telltale sign of his anger flashing in those dark eyes, and he noted with a shiver how the librarian's scowl had deepened, his fangs more pronounced.

And then Urag turned those angry eyes to Onmund, and the poor Nord jumped in fright when the Orc barked, "Get back to your reading!" But Onmund didn't think he could bring himself to return to doing such a boring task after what had just occured, and he stood up, quickly gathered his supplies, and fled from the library before the librarian could yell at him any more.

If it was true – if that woman hadn't been making it all up – then he had just met the Dragonborn herself! He flew into the cold, searching for where the woman had gone to, for he really wanted to know if she was staying or leaving. And if she was leaving he would really like to say something to her, though he wasn't sure what, only that he rather liked the thought of thanking her in some small way for everything she's done and everything she was going to do.

But she was nowhere to be found, and with a defeated sigh Onmund made his way across the courtyard to his room, where he would rest until his final class for the day and hope he had not merely dreamed it all up in his silly, idealistic mind.