#nurelion

The Whispering Door, Season Unending, Dragonslayer, The White Phial, A New Order, Prophet, Beyond Death, Touching the Sky, It's All In The Taste, An Axe to Find, Dragonborn, The Temple of Miraak and Tel Mithryn.

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Savos Aren/Original Male Character(s) Characters: Savos Aren, Original Male Character(s), Nurelion (Elder Scrolls), Quintus Navale Additional Tags: Slice of Life, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Some Plot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Some Humor

  Summary:

It was only a short shopping trip—what could go wrong?

In Windhelm, a whole lot.

"Master, look at the phial! It's refilling with your mixture as we speak!"

Nurelion's eyes fluttered weakly open, and he blinked in order to adjust them to the warm light of his room above the shop. He could see his loyal apprentice, Quintus, kneeling next to his bedside, the white phial in his hand bubbling with the mixture he created with his own two hands. Quintus was staring at his master with a grin and an expecting look in his eye, and Nurelion realized just how little he actually praised his apprentice. All of a sudden very determined, the elderly elf hoisted himself up with what little remained of his strength, reached forward, and placed a thin hand on Quintus' shoulder. His apprentice looked as if he was about to say something, but stopped when he saw the look in his teacher's eyes.

"Quintus, have I ever told you how very proud of you I am?" He whispered. This was something he didn't want the third person in the room to hear, Dragonborn or not. It was much too personal. To his surprise, Quintus smiled.

"You didn't need to tell me. I understood without you ever saying a word." His apprentice whispered back. Suddenly extremely weak, Nurelion collapsed back onto the bed, hacking violently. As his vision went in and out of focus, he could just see Quintus place the vial at his bedside table and quickly rush to the fireplace for a pitcher of water. The Imperial poured some of the liquid into a cup, used the rest to wet a towel, and finally grabbed a handkerchief from the dresser at the foot of the bed, before returning to his teachers side. Gently, Quintus helped the elf sit up, and began to give him the fresh water. As the cool liquid rushed down his parched throat, Nurelion allowed himself to accept the assistance. Though Quintus' caring nature was an annoyance in the past, he was extremely grateful for it in the present. He had grown steadily weaker over the past few days since the return of the phial. After the elf finished the water, Quintus gently wiped the blood from his mouth and placed the wet cloth on his forehead, before carefully lying him back down again. Nurelion sighed quietly as his head rested on the pillow, and allowed himself a small smile.

"Finally..." he breathed. "My work is complete."

"Nurelion?" Quintus voice cracked a little with emotion, causing the dying elf to turn his gaze on his apprentice. His eyes were pools of sadness, and it was then he realized how much he himself really meant to the young man. Needing to do something to ebb the pain, Nurelion took one of Quintus' hands in both his own. Eyes suddenly sparkling with mischief, he gave Quintus one of his sarcastic quips.

"Don't tell me as soon as I'm gone you're going to throw yourself off the bridge." Quintus sniffed, shaking his head.

"Of course not."

"Good." Nurelion smiled. "I didn't spend my twilight years training you just for you to kick the bucket right after I die."

"No. Of course not." Quintus tried to give a smile of his own back, but it turned out more like a grimace. Nurelion sighed again, quieter this time, and when he spoke his voice was much quieter.

"You're destined for great things, my apprentice. Great things..." After saying this, he began to cough again, much to Quintus' alarm, but the elf waved the imperial away. "I'm fine...don't worry, Quintus. This old body has simply seen better days."

"Do you want me to bring you your tonic?" Quintus asked nervously. Turning to look out the window into the winter sky, Nurelion shook his head.

"No. I think I'll do better...with a sleeping potion."

As the imperial went downstairs to mix the potion, Nurelion allowed his facade to slip and let show a worried face. "Windhelm is no place for non-nords, as I'm sure you've realized. Which is why I worry for Quintus...we've been attacked multiple times before due to our race. I'm telling you this because..." he coughed a few times before regaining his composure. "Because I want you to check in on him from time to time. Just to make sure that he's alright. That he's...alive. They'll listen to you...you're one of them. Just knowing my apprentice...my son...has someone looking after him will give me peace."

Glancing at the Dragonborn, Nurelion noticed a strange glint in their eye, before the nord nodded. Content, Nurelion went back to staring out the window. The hubbub of the marketplace easily cut through the thin glass, and the elf could see a hawk perched on top of the outer wall. He smiled at the sight, remembering how his parents always told him a hawk told those around that there was life nearby. He shouldn't be surprised that it nested here, then. Windhelm was a big city.

"Here, master. The potion." Quintus knelt next to Nurelion again, and held out a bottle that was filled with a rich purple liquid. Nurelion managed to sit up, and took the bottle, studying it.

"Blue mountain flowers with clean water, correct?" He mused, seemingly to himself. "I remember...this was the first thing my teacher taught me. A member of House Ravenwatch named Fennorian..."

"And it was the first thing you taught me." Quintus added quietly. Nurelion smiled.

"Yes. It has become a tradition, has it not?" With trembling hands, Nurelion uncapped the bottle and placed the cork on the nightstand beside the white vile. Holding it up to his lips, the elf took a deep breath, before downing the potion in one gulp. He shivered has the vile liquid went down. Giving a short laugh, he remarked, "Just as disgusting as always!" Chuckling, he lay back down, and continued to look out at the snow white sky. "I had hoped to see Auridon...one last time." He whispered to himself. "Alas...it wasn't meant to be." Nurelion could feel the potion kicking in, drowsiness filling his mind. Closing his eyes, he let the feelings of life flow through him for the last time.

"Live well, Quintus...my son..."

Still feeling under the weather so which makes sleeping difficult so here's some random HCs about one of Skyrim's unpopular characters. Enjoy

Nurelion's blunt rudeness/rude bluntness (you decide) knows no boundaries. He says what he thinks whenever he wants no matter the circumstances. You could probably put him in front of any daedric prince or god and he'd start roasting them.

After the civil war broke out, Nurelion was called to the Palace of Kings to be questioned and to swear fealty. He wrote a letter telling Ulfric to get off his lazy ass and come drag him out of his shop himself like a true nord warrior. I earned Nurelion a personal escort courtesy of the Windhelm guard and a night in jail but ultimately, Nurelion got Ulfric's approval—which he promptly "commented" with an eye roll.

He's somewhat famous throughout Tamriel and has even published several works on alchemy. 

He's a distant associate of the College of Winterhold despite knowing nothing about magic. The main reasons are the Arcanaeum and Archmage Aren's personal interest in botany and alchemy.

He can't stand traditional nord cuisine and will take any chance to eat something else. Quintus knows this and has imported Imperial food to the White Phial.

Speaking of food, Nurelion continues the pattern of "great alchemist, terrible cook".

Nurelion is financially savvy if not outright stingy. However, the 5 Septims at the end of the quest are not stingyness, but pure spite.

He's extremely guarded when it comes to his emotions and also doesn't quite know how to deal with them. He reacts with snark or anger if someone tries to get through to him. Only to Quintus he reveals some vulnerability once every blue moon.

Despite being proud of his altmeri heritage, Nurelion doesn't care about the other elves in Windhelm and even views most of them with disdain. He views them as lazy, self-pitying and entitled. He built a good life for himself so why can't they? 

Because of his job, Nurelion is well respected among civilians and Stormcloak soldiers alike. 

He may not know how to show it, but he cares deeply for Quintus does see great potential in him (he also leaves everything he owns to Quintus). God help anyone foolish enough to insult Quintus in front of him—only he's allowed to do that! 

Nurelion doesn't suffer from one mysterious super-illness but a variety of smaller age related issues. 

He doesn't care for politics; as long as he's left in peace and can continue his search for the White Phial, he doesn't care who's ruling. He does, however, hold a grudge against the Thalmor for keeping any records of the White Phial & Curalmil locked from the public.