Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was nothing worse in the world than being sick.

Except perhaps being sick; surrounded by inferior, incompetent company; in a town so far removed from sanity that even vegetation refused to grow without magical assistance. He couldn’t think of anything more miserable than that.

Ancano groaned into his pillow and pulled the covers over his head, until there was only a chink of light and fresh, icy air coming in. Illness, like anything, could be managed properly if the correct procedure was followed. Sleep, heat, and simple warm food like soup. That was the key. If such small comforts could be managed at the College of Winterhold.

The door to the main courtyard opened and slammed shut, nervous chatter ringing out across the stones. Every tiny sound seemed to echo inside his headache-riddled head. And the three students - a Nord, Dunmer and Khajiit - would not shut up. They were speaking quietly, yes, but they were still talking. He wanted silence. The sooner he recovered from this headcold, the sooner he could get back to his job: avoiding the denizens of Skyrim when he wasn’t ‘advising’ them.

It was just his luck that the three settled into the cat’s room, the one to his right. He could hear the gentle creaking of aged wood as the chair and the bed were occupied. One of them - likely the Nord - dragged the bench-chest along the wall making an ungodly racket. The other two shushed him; the smaller chamber only amplified their hushed echoes. Ancano rolled over again and covered his ears, hoping he could ignore the conversation if it was muffled.

“So: ‘B’s before ‘J’s-” The Dunmer dullard was cut off by feline snickering and a quiet chuckle from the Nord. A smack rang out, with a mild protest of pain before the Dunmer girl continued. “What did you think? What did you like? What could be done better?”

Silence. Finally.

“I thought it was good. The position was um...” The Nord, not surprisingly, struggled for a word. “Interesting. The setup was hysterical. But you focused too much on the emotions.”

“It was emotional.”

Against his better judgement, Ancano stopped ignoring the discussion. What sort of magic were they working on that dealt with emotions? Illusion? Enchanting? The headcold made his thoughts sluggish and he struggled to remember which magic schools the three’s studies overlapped in, if any. The cat was in nearly every Destruction class, the Dunmer kept to Alteration, and the Nord to Enchanting. They did share an Illusion class, if he remembered correctly...

“Well yes but... I mean if the story’s about casual sex, they wouldn’t kiss nearly that much. Or at all really. It’s just about the sex.”

Ancano groaned and crawled out of bed moving for his chest, keeping his blankets wrapped around him like a cloak. There should be some tundra cotton in there, he could use that to stuff his ears and ignore this puerile nonsense. No wonder the Nord and Dunmer were falling behind in their studies, spending their free time on ‘adult’ literature. The cat was actually excelling, but Ancano supposed the Aedra must have compensated somehow for giving the mage fur and a tail.

“But they secretly like each other, that’s the point.” The girl continued whining. She really could not take criticism well, he had noticed that in her classes as well. The Nord seemed to back off: his race was plagued with the inability to follow anything not involving murder through.

“I’m just saying it could smolder a bit more. It would make the ‘relationship sex’ that much better.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. J’zargo?” The girl huffed. Ancano sighed; there was the cotton.

“J’zargo does not want to read about Ancano begging for Archmage’s cock.” The cat stated loudly.

The cotton fell out of his grasp and down among the potion bottles and spare uniforms. The two other apprentices angrily shushed their peer and hissed to keep his voice down.

What?

“You don’t like anything with two men period.”

What?!

“This one does not see the point.”

Filthy, nasty, dirty-minded whore-child-

“Well maybe it’s not consensual in the next chapter.”

“J’zargo approves.”

Don’t you dare, Ancano glared at the wall. The very idea- he had barely spoken a hundred words to Archmage Aren since coming to Winterhold! No one was under the delusion the Archmage was anything more than a figurehead, so he had always done business with the Master Wizard, Mirabelle Ervine. He couldn’t imagine even forming a working relationship with a mer that couldn’t remember his own schedule.

Ancano shakily climbed onto his own bed, the cotton forgotten. What if someone besides the three adolescents found and read - and shared - this literature? The faculty, the Archmage, - or worse - someone of importance?

“Well, um, onto J’zargo’s piece.”

Oh gods, there was more?

“Um, Onmund, what- what did you think?”

The wet sound of the Nord sucking on his cheeks, no doubt trying to think of a reply.

“Well I liked the part with me in it.”

He buried his head in the pillow. Gods no, he disliked sharing a room with Nords, there was no way even in the Shivering Isles he would willingly pleasure one. Especially not that one; he was probably hiding a Talos amulet in the straw beneath his pillow.

“It was okay.” The filthy Dunmer added hastily.

“And reading about Nirya and Faralda made me laugh so hard Urag threw me out of the Arcanaeum. But um... the prompt this month was Ancano, and there wasn’t much of him in this um...”

“Orgy. It’s called an orgy.”

Thank Gods he had been left out of that.

“-I know that.” The Nord corrected his female classmate a little too quickly.

“He was in there.” The cat purred. Ancano felt a clammy sweat break out on his forehead. Oh gods, what sort of appearance had he made in this fictional orgy?

“I don’t think falling off the Hall of the Elements was quite what Brelyna had in mind, J’zargo.”

“But everyone had sex because they were so happy. It was important to the plot.”

You will make a fetching fur rug, Ancano fumed. What worried Ancano however, was the notion that his death would prompt such a celebration. He knew they detested him, feared him, but would they really be so happy if something tragic were to happen to him?

He made a mental note to recover from his ailment as soon as possible, lest anyone get any ideas.

“It’s just- maybe next time you could stick to the prompt a little better.” The girl said peevishly.

“Brelyna wrote her own story. J’zargo wrote his.” The cat growled.

“-So what’s wrong with my story?” The Nord apprentice blurted out, no doubt to prevent an argument.

Another awkward silence.

“Well um- it’s an interesting concept, it’s just that...”

“Females do not work like that, Onmund. Neither do sweet rolls.” The cat bluntly stated. Ancano crawled back under his blankets and... there really was no other word for it than ‘sulked’.

“Well how do you know if you haven’t tried it?” The Nord apprentice protested bitterly.

“This one has done many things with sweet rolls, and many things with women.”

“It might do you some good to brush up on um-”

“Practice.”

“-Research.” The Dunmer girl corrected gently. “There’s an anatomy book in the restoration section. It’s not erotic or anything but it should help.”

“I have plenty of practice...” The Nord offered.

“Not with sweet rolls it would seem.”

The pause that followed was the longest in their ‘discussion’. Ancano debated whether or not to trap them all in the cat’s room and demand they hand over all copies of their writings.

Of course, how could he be sure there weren’t any others hidden, say in the Arcanaeum? No. The best course was to wait until he had blackmail on one - or preferably all - the apprentices and force them to hand them over.

“Anything else?”

“Prompt this month?” The cat asked.

“Um...” There was the sound of shuffling papers. “Why don’t we do the Midden? Just, something in the Midden.”

“A summoned Daedra could be interesting...” The Nord mused. Ancano dearly wished that he would take the cat’s advice and seek some ‘practice’ with said dremora before penning another erotic novel. At least he hoped the boy had meant ‘dremora’. Of course, if he did by some miracle manage to summon a Prince, the ensuing catastrophe would be more than enough excuse for the Thalmor Advisor to return to a civilized locale.

One where the youths didn’t spend their time writing libelous fiction.

“Well, if that’s all.” The Dunmer Apprentice said tapping her thighs. Ancano hoped that was all. So... three heinous stories featuring him. It wouldn’t be that hard to locate them - the apprentices were not exactly bright - and dispose of them.

Although first he had to be sure he had collected all the copies, if they had made more than one. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure there had to be additional copies, maybe even early drafts lying around the College. The cold sweat broke out again. He couldn’t think with this headache.

“J’zargo has scrolls to finish.” The cat said at last, shooing the two other apprentices out of his room. They lingered in the common area next to the stairs, just outside of Ancano’s room.

“Onmund, I have a question.” The Dunmer girl said hesitantly. Her classmate stopped and walked back, both of them casting long shadows into Ancano’s room. Ancano groaned into his pillow. Maybe if he could just go back to sleep, he could pretend none of this happened. Some sickness-induced delusion, that’s all it was.

“Sure, what is it?” In the blue light of the magicka well, it was difficult to see the faint blush on the Nord’s face. Difficult, but not impossible.

“You’ve been with men before, right?”

“-Well I prefer women but uh... yes?”

Ancano held the pillow tighter. This was really far more than he’d ever wanted to learn about the apprentices’ sleeping habits. He considered using this information as blackmail on the young wizard before thinking better of it. If the young man would willingly admit it to a classmate, he doubted it would embarrass him or his family to the degree required.

“What sort of, um, lubricant would you use for um...”

“‘Riding a sword’?” He offered. Now it was the Dunmer girl’s turn to blush.

“Yes.”

“Well uh- animal fat or oil works best. But there’s some alchemy things you can use, they can...” He cleared his throat. “Spice things up, since the first alchemic property is always active.”

“Of course.” The girl nodded. “Um, like what?”

“Uh... Spriggan sap, dwarven oil, uh... I’ve heard netch jelly is interesting.”

Netch jelly?!

He almost felt sorry for the three students.

“But mostly oil and fats.” The Nord finished. The Dunmer girl was scratching notes into a small journal. Ancano wondered what else was written in there, if there was anything that could be used as blackmail. One of the three had to have something he could use as leverage, to find the ‘literature’ they had written about him. The girl looked up and smiled at her Nord classmate.

“Okay. Thanks! That was very helpful.”

“I um... I did like your story.”

“Thanks. I need to go practice my wards, so I’ll see you later? Oh, and if there’s any questions you want to ask me I’m fine with returning the favor.”

“Right. ... Bye...” The Nord called after her as she walked across the hall to the courtyard doors. After a few seconds of just standing there, watching the door, the Nord walked up the stairs, muttering something about talking to the Bosmer mage-thief.

Ancano burrowed further into the blankets. He was going to get rid of this infuriating cold as quickly as possible. He was never getting sick again. And when he had recovered, he would tear the College apart to find every last page of those stories and he was going to incinerate them, then banish the ashes to Oblivion.

Then he would deal with the apprentices.

Chapter Text

“Master Wizard, I must object to the actions of some of your apprentices.”

Master Ervine’s shoulders sagged and she turned slowly, a practiced sigh escaping her lips. The outside courtyard was mercifully vacant save for her and Ancano, a light snow falling in the early dawn.

“Ancano, if you have been accidentally involved in any experiments - again - might I remind you you’re here to observe, not intervene? They have to make their own mistakes.”

“A writing experiment it would appear.” Ancano clarified, glaring down at her.

“A-aah...” Whatever response the short woman had prepared died in her throat. Her face grew red and she coughed, tugging at her collar. “It’s- It’s really quite harmless. The better ones are popular too.”

He didn’t doubt that. In fact, that was what concerned him.

“The ‘research’ one of them suggested involves summoning a Daedroth in the Midden. Is that harmless?” Ancano asked, crossing his arms. The Master Wizard’s eyes widened, no doubt remembering what had happened the last time a group of students attempted summoning a powerful spirit.

“Uh- they will be spoken to.” She pulled out a notebook and wrote a few names in them. Ancano noted with worry that there were more than three being written. Oh gods, there were other students that had written about him? And how did the Master Wizard already know which students to talk to?

Before he could ask that question the Breton wizard walked away - rather hastily.

“Does the Archmage have any netch jelly?” Ancano called after her before she had gotten too far. She stopped, cocked her head, and turned back to him.

“I don’t think so, why?”

“They were discussing its uses in the bedroom. Perhaps someone should reintroduce them to an alchemy primer.” This time her face went white as the snow. Netch Jelly, when used by a master alchemist, instilled an overwhelming sense of fear into whatever used it. Even when used by an ignoramus, it caused paralysis.

Neither of which was too good for certain Dunmer or Khajiit.

“Yes, I think that is in order before anyone hurts themselves.” Master Ervine nodded her head vigorously, taking the notebook out again and writing in it with large, bold strokes. At least she was taking it seriously. She tapped the charcoal stick against the paper before returning both to her satchel, biting on her lip in thought.

“You’re being unusually helpful.”

“I don’t believe even Nords deserve self-mutilation in such a manner.” The Nord apprentice had actually been most helpful. All it took was a little suggestion - that perhaps a Talos Amulet would be found among his things when a justiciar patrol was in town - and he’d spilled everything. The cat likewise turned his papers over coolly after they discussed a few of his more illicit habits and the Bosmer mage-thief.

The Dunmer had been the hardest to intimidate surprisingly. He still wasn’t sure what had convinced her to surrender her manuscripts but thankfully she had. All of the documents were securely locked in a folder in his room’s chest. The folder had a rune on it that would destroy the papers inside and - if the thief was particularly unlucky - deal some bodily harm.

“What exactly happens with these stories?” Ancano asked, dreading the answer. He didn’t think the apprentices had access to a printing press, but he didn’t want to rule anything out.

“Oh, most of them don’t get much circulation. They’re young and-” She chuckled knowingly. “Well, it’s a chance to improve their writing, it doesn’t mean it’s good. The popular ones sometimes get shared outside the College. Besides, they rarely used the real names of the people involved.”

“I’m sure everyone will have trouble guessing which Thalmor Advisor they are referring to.” Ancano said. Master Ervine nodded slowly. Even if they had not referenced his position, Ancano was the only male Altmer at the college. Not that anyone outside the college would know that.

“I will ask that they refrain from sharing their latest stories outside the college.” She relented.

Ancano opened his mouth to object. That was not acceptable- the immediate frown on Master Ervine’s lips convinced him not to press the issue. He’d seen that look before and it never ended well for the other side.

“Very well, I suppose that’s the best you can do from a bureaucratic position.”

She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip. The icy glare faded and she chuckled. “Have you even read them?”

“I’m sure I’ll have to at some point, if only to learn what prompts the snickering when I enter rooms.” Ancano sighed. He didn’t doubt that a few members of the College had read the fiction already; it would explain some of the odd looks he’d received in the past two weeks.

Master Ervine laughed at his dour expression. “Oh come now, it’s not that bad. And there’ll be another ‘next Argonian Maid’ in a few months and everyone will forget about this set.”

“Perhaps they could focus on more respectable topics than romps in the hay.”

“And you never wrote anything erotic when you were younger?” Master Ervine asked, raising an eyebrow and the corners of her lips.

“Of course I didn’t.” Ancano retorted.

“No, that does explain a lot.” She said.

Ancano glared at her. Just what was that supposed to mean? Just because he spent more time furthering his own magical abilities instead of titillating readers with a pen by no means mean he was lacking something in his life. If anything, it proved that he had little to want for as far as relations go; he’d never had a problem finding a woman when he wanted one and didn’t need to satisfy his urges through paper.

Master Ervine bit her lip. “Which one of them wrote the one about me? It was really quite terrible.”

“There’s one about you?”

“-Nevermind. I should be going. I will talk with the students before too long.”

The Breton disappeared inside the Hall of the Elements quicker than if she had cast Invisibility, leaving Ancano standing alone in the snow-covered courtyard. Magnus shone through the arches in the College walls, and a few birds roused from their nests in the pines.

Ancano hemmed and walked back to the Hall of Attainment. He had never written adult literature but that didn’t mean he couldn’t read it.