Author's Note: Cuprum is Latin for copper, and provides the symbol for copper on the periodic charts. Oxidization is rust. While roughly the same color, the point of view makes one sound much better than the other. This chapter is a lot about point of view. I'm so deep!

Also, I had this headcanon (and you'll see why this is a funny pun later) that I finally figured out how to work into the story. It answers the question of why Quintus ALWAYS is wearing a hat. Anyhow, prepare for the feels!

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Lunch was good. Fjori, being from the interior marshes, rarely got the chance to indulge in the steaming-hot clam chowder from creatures harvested along the wide mouth of the river Windhelm was built on. It warmed a person to the core despite the persistent chill in the air.

Then again, maybe the warmth she was radiating came from the fact that Quintus was holding her hand as they returned to the shop. It was disappointing that they had to wear gloves in the freezing temperatures, causing her to miss out on the contact of his skin against hers, but even still it was more than anyone had ever done to show their affections for her. He made it look so natural too, as if she belonged there at his side without question.

As for the people in the marketplace, most of the ones that knew her or knew him looked pleased to see them out and about together, much to her surprise. No prying questions, no judgement, just a few friendly inquiries and then good-natured banter. Damn, if she had known that being in public with him would be so easy, she would never have put up such a resistance! And already, she was regretting that the day was half-way over and she would not be able to do this again for a long time.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the jingling of his keys as he unlocked the front door to the shop, hand leaving hers to dangle uselessly at her side. "We weren't even gone an hour, were we? I could be selfish and just lock the door behind me so we can have some time alone…"

"Sign's already flipped to 'closed'," she reminded with a smile, following him inside as the door swung open.

He looked back at her with a sly grin. "I feel like we deserve it after being interrupted this morning." Once she crossed the threshold, he latched the door and flipped the deadbolt. "I don't get you here often, after all."

"No. After today, I don't know how long it will be. We use that Elder Scroll on top of the Throat of the World and hope to learn the shout that will defeat Alduin. Then we fight him and kill him if all goes according to plan. Lydia likes to remind me that things rarely do, though."

His grin disappeared as the thought occurred to him. "Well, I hope you at least enjoyed lunch today. I know you were a bit nervous, but I want you to have something happy to look back on to matter how things go."

"And you've given it to me," she reassured him, stepping closer so her face hovered near his. "Nothing but happiness." Without warning, she leaned down and kissed him. Funny, each time she did this it felt more and more natural… He let out a low moan of appreciation as her hands held the sides of his face, weaving through his sideburns as if to hold him there. The realization that someone could want HIM that badly was like a punch to the gut. It was almost enough to distract him from the fact that in her intensity she knocked his hat to the ground. Not quite.

Quintus always wore that hat. He had a good excuse, seeing as Windhelm was just about the coldest city in Skyrim, and the tired wooden building Nurelion had purchased hadn't received the repairs it should have in the seven years since they'd moved in. Inside or outside, the hat stayed on his head, like an extension of him, only removed to bathe or sleep. Now that it had slipped off his head, he felt uncomfortably exposed. Startled, he broke away and stepped back. His right hand shot up to nervously run through his hair. The thing was, Fjori finally saw that there wasn't that much of it.

She hadn't really stopped to imagine what was under the hat. Her image of him always included it, seeing as he was wearing it every time she saw him. If she were honest though, she'd expected more considering how heavy his sideburns were. Looking closer, she realized that it wasn't just a short haircut for the sake of keeping neat and trim. On either side of his forehead, his hairline was receding, leaving a prominent widow's peak. With no long strands to brush over the bare spots, it stood out sharply in contrast to his red hair. Then again, his face was turning that color so akin to his hair color that it was growing less noticeable…

Only a second or two had passed, but it felt like an eternity and Quintus could not bear her curious gaze any longer. He reached down and fumbled for his hat. He wanted to say something, but what could he say? She'd have found out sooner or later considering she'd already decided she loved him. That didn't make it any easier to bear. That didn't make him any more attractive either. Silently then he moved to put the hat back on.

Her hand on his wrist stopped him. "Finally, I get you unraveled enough that you're shedding clothes," she quipped. Despite the vulgar implications of that statement, her expression remained soft and affectionate. She knew, oh sweet Mara she knew how uncomfortable his lack of hair made him feel.

"You don't have to pretend it doesn't bother you," he offered bitterly, struggling against her grip. It was futile to try and pull away from someone who wielded a war-axe for a living though. "I'm well aware I'm just a pity case."

She wanted to tighten her grip, but held back knowing she would just end up bruising him. Instead, she scowled. "You're only a pity case if you make yourself one. I see no reason for you to stoop to that level. Besides, I want to know you the way you are, and there's nothing you should ever feel the need to pretend or hide." Her eyes scanned his face, making him squirm under the scrutiny. "I want to remember what you look like now that I can finally see your entire face." Her free hand traced up where his had been moments before, and despite his frustration the sensation on his scalp gave him chills.

"You won't want to think back on how I look when you get lonely," he asserted. "Nobody would get any pleasure from that." He knew he was walking a dangerous line just shy of addressing physicality, and he knew that was a whole unexplored area between them. That wasn't enough to keep him from blurting "I always thought maybe someday I'd have a wife who'd marry me for my money but sleep with someone else."

It was as if he had flipped a switch in Fjori's brain. A curtain descended over her features, leaving only a cold exterior. "At least your hair isn't the unholy union of brown and red, like dried blood or rust. I'd kill to have fiery red hair like yours, like a fierce Nord warrior, or a rich chestnut color like a noblewoman belonging in furs. Mixing the two however does not give the best of both worlds, I can assure you."

"B-but your hair is copper!" he protested, all his frustration cast to the winds with her sudden outburst.

Her shoulders sagged. "I hate my hair, but it doesn't seem to bother you. Now, where am I going with this?"

Quintus swallowed. "I can hate my hair or lack thereof all I want, but you will continue to insist it doesn't matter to you."

"Damn right. I don't want to hear you talk like that ever again." Her eyes took a hard glint, and she put her hands on her hips. "Do I make myself clear?"

He wasn't going down without a fight. "Fjori, I'm too young to look like this! I'm only 23! There's no way despite your best intentions that you would still be attracted to a man who's gone bald by 30."

As soon as he uttered his deepest fears, he saw her eyebrow twitch in irritation. Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she ripped the hat from his hand, spun around, and promptly flung it into the fireplace. The poor young man was frozen in place, too shocked to move as the small flames started to eat away at the fur trim. "That's my final answer. I don't care how you present yourself in public, but when it is just you and me, I don't want to see you wearing a hat. I want you to own everything that you are, because I love everything that you are." Finally, her stormy exterior seemed to calm, and as she followed his eyes from her to the fireplace where the hat was quickly being consumed in the fire, she even looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry for destroying your hat, now that I think about it. I'll buy another one; it's too cold in this city to go without."

"It's okay, I probably could have stood to get a new one. It was pretty worn," he blinked, still trying to process everything.

"Also, I'd gladly warm your bed any time, with or without your money." At this, he turned and stared at her, unable to believe what his ears had just heard. To be fair, she herself looked like she couldn't believe what she'd just said.

"Fjori?"

"Yes?" She was studying the floor intently, waiting for some form of admonishment. This was probably one of those times again where her brash Nord nature was going to get her in trouble with someone far more sophisticated.

Instead, he took a deep breath and asked "Will you join me in the back room?"

Truth be told, the whole passionate exchange had left Fjori feeling inexplicably turned on. Only good things could follow in the back room, away from any windows, with the store still locked up and the sign still reading 'closed'. Her heart beat a little faster. "Yeah." Despite the fact that he was the one to offer, she was the one that grabbed his hand and practically dragged him away.

As soon as they had rounded the corner, she released her hold on him. "Did you want to talk or…" She let the statement trail off, allowing him to fill in the blanks as desired.

"I wanted to pick up where we left off before," he murmured.

"Good," she breathed. "I was hoping you'd say that." Without a moment more of hesitation, she was on him. This time, she could feel him returning the gesture.

Never in her wildest dreams did she delude herself to think she would be full-on making out with Quintus Navale in the back storage room. It wasn't because she didn't desire it, but simply because she hadn't thought he would agree to it, for reasons of propriety or simply because of who she was and who he was. Admittedly, she'd expected if it would have happened that he'd have been more timid and awkward. He was inexperienced, to be fair; she could tell from the way he seemed to rely on instinct as he kissed her, sloppy and perhaps a bit overzealous. She couldn't say she disliked it, especially given the rawness of his intent. And pressed up against him, her arms wrapped around his waist and his trying to figure out where exactly one held the recipient of their kiss, she vaguely recognized the scent of so many flowers and herbs that he worked with day in and day out. The lavender stood out, and it calmed her even in this frenzy. Quintus wasn't some brute eager for her body, she believed that whole-heartedly. The man was intelligent, passionate, polite, and being with him made her feel safe, as strange as that was for a Dragonborn.

Finally, in her eagerness to make him feel her own desire, she pushed him back against the wall, pinning him. Her hands moved from around his waist to a firm grip on his hips. That was when she felt it, something pressing against her thigh, something that could not be mistaken for anything else. Of course his body was reacting this way, why wouldn't it given the situation? All the same, realizing Quintus had a sex drive threw her for a loop. She broke away, panting and studying his face. The alchemist was flushed, and equally out of breath, but when he realized that she had noticed what was happening under his clothes, he turned bright red.

"F-Fjori, please don't think me lewd. I'm not expecting…I mean, I would never…"

"Would you want to?" was her blunt response. Though it may have come across a bit harshly, her face was soft, inquisitive, trying to figure out the situation.

"Would YOU want to?" was his defensive retort. Suddenly, the fire that had possessed him dampened exponentially, and he looked just as shy as she'd expected initially. It was as if he couldn't imagine her wanting him in that way. Doubts about self-image weren't just going to go up in smoke like his hat.

"I have feelings for you. Obviously," she started to explain. "Feelings I've contemplated acting on if given the chance. But certainly not if you don't want to. Or want me in that way. I mean, do you want me in that way?"

His jaw dropped. Could she actually be serious with that question? "Do I want you? Who wouldn't want you?! You are strong, compassionate, heroic… By the Eight, why would you want ME? I know we've established our feelings for each other and I shouldn't doubt you, but I still can't help but feel I'm just an alchemist running a shop, nothing glorious or interesting about me. You could have any man, so what could I offer you?" The poor Imperial looked absolutely devastated as these thoughts materialized. She decided she never wanted to see that look again.

"Quintus, I've never come out and said it in these last few months, but I see you as patient, caring, smart and dedicated. I've never met a man like you, and I probably never will again, and being with you makes me happier than I can ever remember." Slowly, waiting for a rebuke, she raised a hand to trace his burning cheek with her thumb. There was none. "Maybe it's all too fast. I know us Nords like to rush into things, and I admit that in the past I have been burned by it." A look of pain crossed her face, and Quintus made a note to inquire what she meant when this was all over. "I also realize you grew up in a place where the rules of courtship were very different. Do you wish to formally court me a while before doing anything physical? Do you wish to bed me just for today, a one-time moment of passion, and see where it leads?"

"I would never use you as a fling!" he declared indignantly. "I'd give you everything I had." And suddenly he seemed to realize how melodramatic that statement sounded, wincing. "I want to court you, yes, but I also want to…to…" He couldn't make himself say it. "I want you in every way possible."

"Well then today's your lucky day," she smiled, leaning forward to capture his lips again. The Imperial seemed to melt in bliss as her lips molded to his. "It just so happens that I feel the same. Now, the question is whether you wish to seal the deal in a more… intimate way…" Her mouth dropped to his neck, eliciting a gasp from him as she gently sucked near his pulse point.

"I…uh…that is…" he stammered, thoughts in a jumble from the way she got him wound. That, and all the blood that had gone south, leaving his brain lacking it seemed. But Fjori was sensitive, and even at the slightest hint of unease she ceased her actions and looked at him expectantly. Quintus swallowed hard, and seemed to shrink a bit. "There is something you should know about that."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. Quintus squirmed, averted his gaze, and bit his lip. "I don't…I mean…" He couldn't quite get it out, but Fjori patiently waited for him to succeed, urging him to calm down by gently rubbing his forearms. This got him to look her in the eye, and it shocked him how invested she appeared in his answer, in his own feelings. He trusted her. "I've never…" Just like that his gaze fell once more. That was all she needed to know. Was she surprised that Quintus was a virgin in his twenties? Not really. His rigorous apprenticeship clearly left little time for pursuing girls. And maybe it was the fact that this didn't surprise her that made it no big deal.

Her smile was warm now, no longer lustful. "And would you want your first time to be with me?"

"Only if it doesn't…turn you away." The look of shame on his face was completely uncalled for in her opinion, as if having refrained from physical intimacy made him less of a man. "You'd probably prefer a partner who knows what he's doing to make it good for you… You've probably had partners who were amazing, but I-"

"Quintus," she interrupted seriously, the smile running away from her face, "I've only ever been with one other. And it was not…well, let's say you don't really have competition. Being kissed by you has already been better than what was shared in that relationship. Hell, just you holding my hand has already been a huge improvement."

"You mentioned something about it before, but you've seriously only had one partner?" he stared in disbelief. "An amazing woman like you?"

Fjori gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, they'd like to. That doesn't mean I'd allow them to."

"But me, you'd have."

"In a heartbeat. You are a worthy man." She could read his conflicted emotions, and recognized that the passion of the moment was gone. That wasn't bad, these things had to be discussed. But now was no longer the time to act. Between this and her outburst before, it was probably for the best to let emotions simmer down. Feeling like the clock was ticking before she had to leave was no excuse to rush into things. "Listen, Quintus, I'll come back in a few hours and give you time to think things over. You know how I feel, and I will wait for you to decide on how you feel. I'll bring dinner. We'll talk. And after that, we'll see how it goes." Finally, she pulled away, exposing the Imperial. He suddenly felt cold, missing her heat. And as she walked out the door, he realized that he very much disliked the idea of her leaving.

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Quintus swallowed a mouthful of rabbit haunch, wondering if he should ask what had been on his mind all afternoon since their emotional exchange. Her look as she sat across from him at the table seemed to dare him, even as she chewed her own portion. "So, Fjori, there's something I've been wondering."

"Yes?" She set down her fork and met his gaze expectantly. So direct, always.

"There's something I'd like to ask you before we, you know…"

"Anything."

Quintus took a deep breath, trying to find his courage. "You said there had been only one other that you'd taken to bed, and that you didn't enjoy it very much. You also said he didn't want to be seen with you. Why was that?"

Her eyebrows raised, but she knew she shouldn't be surprised Quintus had latched onto these details. Given her mood swings lately, Lydia was also probably starting to wonder what her issues were. She didn't like thinking about Benor and what had transpired between them, but he deserved to know why she came across so broken. He had to know it was never anything he had done.

"I was young and trapped in a small town and always curious. There was another around my age, though a little bit older. He approached me and offered to show me how great sex was." Quintus looked visibly repulsed at those words; he seemed to guess the turn this would take. "I wanted to know. I wanted something fun to do in that dreary marsh village, so I agreed to it. I had my first time in the jail of the guard's barracks where no one would find us. No prisoners at that time, you see." She managed a thin, bitter smile at the memory. So much regret looking back, but at the time, she had been so young and stupid. It was mortifying.

"I don't mean to be rude, but that sounds…subpar," Quintus stated cautiously.

"It was. Looking back, it's obvious he was just waiting for a chance to get laid, and I was his best bet. But he didn't even try to make it good for me. It was a lot of invasive kissing, groping, and ultimately just rutting. Hurt a lot more than it felt good." She closed her eyes, as if recalling the pain.

"That was the end of it then," he concluded, worried at the expression that had come over her face.

"No," she admitted softly, and when she opened her eyes, he saw the glisten of tears. "It should have been, but I was weak. When he approached me again a few days later, I told him I wasn't interested, but he was so good at playing the guilt card, said I'd already done it with him and we were a thing, that he'd get better at it with more experience. My resolve always broke even though it didn't get better. He ignored me every time I made a suggestion or said I wanted something different. And outside of the sex, he pretended there was nothing between us. Said it was so we wouldn't draw suspicion. Didn't want people to know I was being a whore with him, and if I stopped giving him my body he'd make it known. I was stuck and didn't know how to get out, and I've never felt weaker." Her words started to quicken and blur together as her emotions claimed her.

Quintus stood up abruptly, sending his chair flying back and clattering against the floor. He hurried around to her side of the table and knelt next to her, wrapping his arms around her. "Fjori, that bastard abused you…"

Something about this tender display of protectiveness from the normally mild-mannered shopkeeper made her feel even weaker. She began to openly cry, and he could feel the tremors through her body as he held her. "I let him do it. I deserved it…"

"No!" he exclaimed, looking into her eyes. His normally passive features held a new fire. "That's what they want their victims to think, but he's the one at fault, not you! He manipulated you when you were vulnerable. By the Eight, Fjori, it's no crime to be a vulnerable adolescent!"

"I finally got a chance to take a mercenary job," she continued through choked sobs. "It took me away from Morthal. And I kept finding more just so I wouldn't have to come home. My parents didn't care, they'd always wanted me to make a career as a warrior like my namesake, but they never knew the real reason I didn't come back."

"Fjori," he soothed, raising a hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, "I understand what you meant now. No wonder you've never tried anything with anyone else since then. And I must seem…safe to you, so you've entertained the idea again after all this time." Though his voice was even, she could read a bit of sadness in his face, as if he thought he was chosen just because he'd be easy.

"Quintus, there is some truth in that, but don't take it the wrong way. I'm not pursuing you because I think you'd be easy to take control from, just because I want my fix. You make me feel safe in a way that lets me try being vulnerable again. I want to believe that…two people uniting can be beautiful. When I look at you, I feel there is hope it could be true. Being with you makes me feel something I've never felt before. That's all."

The normally dominant warrior seemed smaller, pitiful. Now there was worry written across her features, like she thought he'd gotten the wrong idea about her advances. Even though this confession had been necessary to move forwards, he couldn't help but feel a bit of guilt at how upset his question had made her. "I may not have experience, but where it counts, it doesn't sound like you do either. Perhaps we could navigate that path together. But not tonight, Fjori. I think tonight you and I just hold each other awhile. Is that agreeable to you?"

"I'd like that," she whispered softly, voice catching in her throat.

"Come then, let's go lie down for a bit." He rose and held up his arm so she could brace herself against him and stand as well. With one arm possessively wrapped around her waist, he guided her up the stairs to the freshly made bed.

They spent that evening pressed against each other, though no flames of passion were kindled. The night was filled with small talk instead, old stories about their pasts, sincere compliments and tender caresses. As sleep began to take her, Fjori marveled through the haze that despite being in the arms of a simple alchemist, she felt safer than she'd ever felt in years.

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Lydia had been very good about holding her tongue until they were safely out of earshot and on the road to Ivarstead. Finally, she let loose. "All right, my Thane, now you can tell me all about your day. Was it worth 100 gold?"

"It was worth a thousand at least," she replied without resistance.

Lydia's eyebrows shot up. "It was that good, huh?"

Fjori frowned and studied her companion. "Lydia, if you are implying what I think you are implying, you should know that we did no such thing. We had a lot of deep conversations, we went public with our relationship and got lunch in the market, had a nice dinner for two, and had a lot more deep conversations. Then we fell asleep cuddling innocently. Okay, so yes, we shared a bed. But not like that, I swear."

"But when Quintus opened the door this morning, he looked all out of sorts," Lydia mused skeptically.

Fjori waved. "It's Quintus. You know how jumpy he gets. He probably was worried about being seen sharing a bed." That wasn't the entire truth, but it wasn't a lie.

"I guess." Lydia still sounded unconvinced, but now her thoughtful face turned a bit wistful. "Must be nice to get all those deep conversations out of you…"

Fjori realized with a start that Lydia was JEALOUS. Pinching her nose, she inhaled deeply. "I suppose that while I'm on a roll, I may as well just tell you about Benor. It might explain a few weird things I've been doing lately. Besides, we've got a lot of time to kill before we get to Ivarstead…"