The sun was just starting to rise when he jolted awake, the still-gray sky providing enough light to see the outlines of the items in the room. Had he fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of his grieving, leaning over onto the nightstand to prop up his head? If he had, there was no way it could have been for more than an hour or two. He'd definitely read and reread the letter several times, trying to wrap his head around the content, until the candle had burned down. But if it was morning…the priestess would be here soon. He had to get moving.

With a groan, he stood, back stiff from the awkward way he'd fallen asleep. Tears had long since dried out, leaving him parched, puffy-eyed, and exhausted despite the bit of sleep he'd gotten. Curse the old man for acting one way and feeling another! What was so hard about giving praise once in a while, especially when it was now clear Nurelion had had so much confidence in his abilities? And why all the agony he had endured these last few weeks because the Altmer couldn't admit to his feelings and talk it over? There were so many reasons to be mad at Nurelion, but he couldn't find it in his heart to feel anger. Rather, he just felt empty with the understanding that he'd had something, and only just realized it now that it was gone. Leaving a letter was all well and good for Nurelion, but Quintus was still undecided whether it made things better or worse for him. Now, he would never have the chance to share his feelings with his master, not unless he could hear him from the outer realms of Aethereus.

Truth be told, he could probably sit there with Nurelion's body even longer, but he had to get washed up before anyone saw him looking like an emotional wreck. Damn it, he could still hear Nurelion's condescending voice reprimanding him for his fragile feelings. Ugh, would that ghost ever go away, or would he always carry that with him as long as he lived? Roughly, he rubbed the remaining sleep from his sore eyes. Casting a final glance at the body, he muttered "This is your own fault, you know, so don't mock me for this!" And with that, he turned on his heels and started down the stairs, mentally running through his to-do list. Wash his face, change his clothes, chew a sprig of frost mirriam to get rid of that awful, bitter taste in his mouth…

Once he was halfway down, he nearly fell the rest of the way in shock. It turned out he was not alone in the building. Fjori had returned sometime while he had been asleep, and he had never seen her as she was in this moment, wearing a simple blue dress with cream-colored sleeves rolled up, scrubbing the table by the window. A simple leather cord held her wavy, medium-length hair out of her face while she worked. She could pass for a normal woman looking like this. But why was she here cleaning his store? Clearly, she was pretending she didn't notice his descent. Unless he was wrong and he could sneak back up the stairs before she saw him in his current state…

When his weight shifted, there was a loud creak. So much for sneaking away… He could see her pause her work, though she didn't make a motion to turn around. It was as though Fjori didn't know what to do. Typical, that made two of them. Only Nurelion's final words nudged him forward. He owed it to her to be brave. "Fjori?" The tone that escaped him was choked, and he quickly cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?"

Slowly, she turned. As he feared, her eyes widened when she saw how red his own eyes were from crying. "I'm sorry Quintus. I didn't know whether I should come back so you wouldn't have to be alone right now, or give you space. If…if you want me to go, I'll leave." She ducked her head like a scolded child.

"I…don't really know what I want," he admitted quietly, easing down the final few stairs. "But I suppose I've had enough time to myself."

With him on the same level and not dismissing her, she seemed a bit more encouraged. Quickly she grabbed a flask of water, clearly prepared for just this instance, and held it out to him. "Here. You should drink at least. I mean, if you are hungry, I can slice up some bread and cheese. I saw where you keep everything last time I was here."

Quintus took the water gratefully, but shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not hungry right now, but I needed this. Thank you." He wasn't lying. She watched him drink half the bottle before finally setting it down on the counter. Stupid. Why hadn't he included 'drinking water' on his to do list? Apparently he needed Fjori looking out for him. "How long have you been here? I didn't even hear the door open."

Long enough to sweep the floors, wipe down the counters, wash the dishes, and wonder idly what it would be like to be his wife and tend the store each day instead of roaming around and taking jobs. She certainly wasn't going to bring that up. "I came back a few hours ago. Lydia is still back at the inn, but I wanted to make sure you were okay," she shrugged helplessly. "Are you okay?"

He wanted to lie and say it was all fine, but his face was a pretty big tell. Also, if he really wanted to be serious about Fjori, why should he pretend things in front of her? "He left a letter, a very long letter. It made things…more difficult." When she raised her eyebrows in concern, he shook his head. "I mean, emotionally. You know how he was. Now try to imagine him praising me and telling me how qualified I am. It was just…frustrating and confusing."

Her gaze softened. "He was hard on you, but it was because he believed in you, was that it?" Why when she said it did that stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes return? He was done with crying! He shouldn't have any tears left to cry! Her next sentence only made it worse. "It's probably not my place to say, but I know he held on as long as he did for you. He knew you would do it."

Of all the thoughts he'd ruminated on last night, why had that detail escaped his notice? If he'd pieced together how quickly Nurelion had passed away once Quintus had showed him what he needed to show him, that the timing of his passing was no coincidence, he would not be caught off guard now by this simple observation. Nurelion had done what he'd begged him to do, clinging to life despite the pain for no other conceivable reason than he wanted to support him in the end. It had been his last gift to him. Damn it all…

With a grunt, he turned his head away before she could notice the tears welling in his eyes. "At any rate, I'm now the owner of the White Phial. Well, both the White Phials, I guess. He'd taken care of everything, and…" His speech was speeding up rapidly as he panicked, and his tone was growing pinched. No, this was not how this was supposed to go!

"Quintus, you know you don't have to hide from me." It wasn't quite an accusation, but more of a plea. He still refused to budge.

"You don't need to see me like this." His hands clenched into fists. "Rather, you don't want to. It's hardly attractive."

She let out a snort before she could contain it. "Is there ever a person who feels attractive after crying?" When she noticed him wince, she regretted her choice of words immediately. "No, that didn't come out right. You know what I mean, don't you? That's just how these things go. You lose someone close to you, you cry a lot, you look like a mess, but that doesn't matter." Still, he wasn't turning, and she was rapidly becoming terrified she was missing the mark entirely and making the situation worse. "No, that's still not right! I mean to say that whether you're at your best or your worst, it won't scare me away, all right? Damn it, I suck at being comforting! I just want to make you feel better, Quintus. How can I make you feel better?"

Now her face was burning in embarrassment. She'd always been clumsy with words, and while that didn't seem to bother most Nords, many foreigners she'd come into contact with had found it worthy of disparaging eye-rolls and the term 'blunt'. It seemed her courting was doomed to failure due to this deficit of ability as well… "I'll go away. That would probably make things better seeing as I can't even say the right things."

With more speed than she'd ever predicted from a sullen mourner, he spun around, closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against his body and resting his chin on her shoulder as if to anchor her there. "You don't have to say anything, Fjori. Everything you do makes me feel better. Don't let my self-consciousness give you the wrong idea. I don't know what I would have done if all of this had happened without meeting you first. I'd be so lonely…"

She started to open her mouth, but thought better of it. He'd just said it was the things she did, right? So instead of saying anything, she held him and gently rocked back and forth. She internalized the way it felt to be pressed against his body, not abundantly warm given his lean Imperial build and lack of resilience to the cold, but certainly still comforting. The way his hands pressed against the small of her back reassured her that there was nothing forced about this abrupt embrace. That realized, she could enjoy the feel of his breath in his chest as it gradually evened out, calming down. They remained like that for who knew how long, only breaking apart when a sharp knock on the door dispelled the comforting blanket of silence enveloping them.

"Hello? I'm back with the priestess." It was Lydia, of course.

Fjori straightened out her dress as if their embrace had even created any wrinkles. "Is it okay if I let them in?"

Quintus took a deep breath. "Yes. Let's get this over with." And nothing more was said about it.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Once Nurelion had been given the proper rites (and not even Quintus knew if those rites were in the vein of the Altmer's religion given how little his religion had ever been referenced), they'd helped to haul his body on a stretcher back to the temple for preparations. Quintus stayed to oversee them. Meanwhile, Fjori and Lydia made a special trip outside the city walls to gather some flowers to honor the old man. In the snowy hills of Eastmarch, there wasn't much variety, but between the two of them they managed to get a decent amount of blue mountain flowers. Quintus was gone gathering a few of Nurelion's belongings when they dropped off the flowers with the priestess, but she assured them the flowers would be burned with the body, a welcome tribute. Sadly, there was no time to wait around for the cremation ceremony; Fjori still had preparations to make for the upcoming journey. As much as she wanted to stay with Quintus through this tough time, she knew she had a responsibility that had been put off. When all was said and done, they headed back to the inn. They would try to get some sleep, then leave come morning.

Sleep proved elusive, but Lydia knew better than to say anything as she listened to her Thane toss and turn in the dark. She herself certainly felt for the boy, but Fjori's concern was in a whole different plane. She was simply grateful that she hadn't been forced to bring up leaving the city for Winterhold; Fjori had proposed the idea herself, despite the hint of resignation in her voice. It was time for things to be back to normal, or at least as normal as they could be for a Dragonborn and her housecarl.

At last the first light of day painted the stone streets in a golden glow. Clear skies, a good omen. In the bottom level of Candlehearth Hall, this was impossible to know, but both had gotten the feeling it was time to rise and head out from so many days of similar schedules. In silence the pair began the slow process of suiting up, adjusting the straps on chest plates and gauntlets with well-rehearsed fluidity.

They had just finished and were about to pack their bags when a polite knock on the door got their attention. "Who in the world-" Fjori muttered as she clambered over to open it. When the door creaked open, she found herself face to face with Quintus. "Quintus?" Seeing him outside the shop was such a rare sight!

"I'm glad to see I didn't wake you. I didn't want to miss you either, so I came over here as soon as it was light enough to see," he began. He looked as if he'd slept as much as she had.

"We have to look for a rare artifact now," Fjori explained helplessly, not willing to share all the details freely. She'd long ago decided it was best if he didn't know for his own safety as well as hers. "We're going to the College in Winterhold to get some ideas of where to look. I'm dreading it so much."

"I hear it's pretty much like the end of the world up there," he agreed, apparently not realizing her apprehension was more due to mages than climate. "But I want to hear all about it when you get back. I know they don't practice alchemy there, probably because it would be nearly impossible to cultivate most of the ingredients necessary, but what an amazing repository of knowledge! Even back in the Imperial City, the Arcane University recognizes the impressive education they offer and views it as a worthy institution for the instruction of magic. Their enchanting services are renowned throughout Skyrim, so if you wanted to study with someone who actually knew what they were doing, you could."

"I'd rather study with you," she retorted plainly. There was hardly a response to that. Instead, he sighed.

"I hope you'll come back for a better reason next time, and I hope it won't be too long of a wait. None of this visit was enjoyable, I'm afraid."

"Are they going to keep Nurelion in the crypts?" she ventured.

Quintus shook his head. "The crypts in the Hall of the Dead are for Nords only. They don't want to violate their ancestors or something. But they did provide a small plot in the cemetery for him. It seems that despite his…gruff…demeanor, the city valued his contributions despite him being an Altmer in the middle of the Stormcloak rebellion. He'll have a tombstone and everything. I'm already wondering which flowers to plant on the grave. Nightshade grows well in this climate, but that is so overdone, and it has nearly exclusively toxic properties…"

Both Fjori and Lydia had to smile. "He'll have the most practical grave in the cemetery, if not the most beautiful. That's how he'd like it, wouldn't he?"

"Right! He would be the one to encourage the use of his plot for cultivating ingredients. In fact, I told the priestess to commit his body to the fire because he never made his wishes known. His ashes will help whatever will grow there. It just…seemed like the right thing to do, the right thing for him." Quintus finally smiled too, albeit tinged with melancholy. "But before I forget, there was a specific reason I came."

"What, more than saying goodbye?" she quirked her eyebrow in confusion.

"A parting gift. I know it will help you far more than it will help me." Before he could lose his nerve, Quintus reached into his satchel and withdrew the unmistakable form of the White Phial. She could hear its contents slosh around inside. "For one, I promised you a health potion to make up for the one I borrowed. I haven't got the knowledge or the skill of the ancients who made the Phial, and I could only get it to replicate one type of liquid. Even before I asked you to bring that health potion to me, I'd decided that would be the most practical choice. When I shook the contents inside the container, I imprinted it. Now, every twenty four hours, you will have a potent healing potion at your disposal."

Even though he held it out, she wouldn't take it. "I can't accept this, Quintus! This is a masterpiece of your own doing! It meant everything to your teacher!"

His next statement was not at all the defense she'd expected him to give. "Fjori, that's exactly why I can't keep this. This was Nurelion's obsession. This thing was his life. It isn't mine. I repaired it for him, and while it was an intriguing process and a huge boost to my confidence, it will always remind me of things I'd rather not remember about him." He would not tell Fjori this, but the honest truth was that he hated what Nurelion had turned into in his final days, all the bitter words the strain of the damaged relic had triggered. Things might have been very different if it wasn't for the Phial taunting him, probably for the better. No, that thing had no place in his life beyond the role it served in proving himself. Let him keep Nurelion's letter instead. "Trust me, you taking it will be doing me a favor."

There was no argument against that. Gently, she reached out to grab it. "I guess if it helps you…"

Quintus shrugged, the sly smile she'd so desperately missed gracing his features. "Well, the other reason is actually that it will help YOU. What good does a replenishing health potion do me? Far better to be in the hands of one who fights trolls and bandits for a living, right?"

She laughed lightly. "Can't argue that logic either."

"Good. And of course, it is payment for all the help you've given. Three birds in one stone, as it were. But Fjori…" He paused, trying to figure out how exactly to express what he wanted to share.

"Yes?"

"Mostly…it's the only way I can think of to help you. Keep you safe. Come back soon and in one piece, okay?" She was unprepared for the way he reached out to guide her chin down, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Her head went fuzzy, and she barely registered his words to Lydia. "And you as well, Lydia. Thank you for everything. I hope to see you soon."

"Of course, Quintus. Hang in there. You'll be fine," Lydia replied seriously, as was her way. The young man nodded and finally left them alone once more, flashing a pleased look at the way Fjori was rendered speechless before walking out.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Fjori didn't saw a word as she followed Lydia from the inn to the city gates. With her Thane lost in her own thoughts, the housecarl had been the one to arrange for the carriage to take them to Winterhold. It was only once they were loaded up, seated, and on the road that Fjori pulled out the White Phial from her pouch. Her gloved thumb lovingly skimmed the smooth surface as if it were her lover's face, particularly along the patched crack where Quintus had worked his magic. The corners of her mouth lifted in a goofy manner.

"Hmph, I suppose getting such a valuable and helpful artifact out of this trip made it worthwhile," Lydia mused, but when Fjori looked up at her, she saw that telling grin on her face. Teasing yet again.

"Indeed. The only one like it known to man or mer, a fitting gift for the Dragonborn," she replied mockingly. "And now we can think of him every time the potion inside saves our lives out in the field."

Lydia leaned back, crossing her arms behind her head. "Well, I must admit, it's hard to remain paranoid about ulterior motives when he offers up such a priceless treasure."

Fjori nodded enthusiastically. "See? I told you he wasn't using me! He must actually care about me a lot." She seemed to radiate warmth at the thought, and no matter what Lydia would say to the contrary, she was glad to see her employer glow in such a way. She was also glad to be wrong in this case.

"And that kiss though…"

Now the warmth was coming from her face. "What about it? You wish a cute guy would kiss you all affectionately like that!"

This earned a rich laugh. "I finally got to see it with my own eyes! Now I believe it!" Fjori glared with minor annoyance, but this was ignored. "At any rate, it's good that Quintus put you in such an upbeat mood before leaving for the College."

"Yeah. Great. And it sounds like he wants me to bring him a souvenir…" Fjori grumbled, tucking the Phial back into the pouch. "He'd have a field day, I'm sure. I just hope I can figure out what's going on, that they speak plainly, and that they keep their magic at a safe distance."

"Hey, just get through this, and imagine visiting him as your reward for enduring such torment."

Lydia may be joking, but Fjori was already planning when she would return to Windhelm next. It couldn't be soon enough.