She still remembered the chill of death that lingered in Alduin's mists that had blanketed and darkened the landscape of Sovngarde, still remembered the heat of the dragon lord's fire breath as the flames singed the hairs on the back of her neck, still remembered the uncharacteristic trembling in her arms and legs as she watched the beast's slain body go up in a roar of ash and fire. Adaria had thought then that she would find no other adversary so frightening. She hadn't counted on Marcurio.

Those mournful brown eyes were something, all right. Adaria had never really seen someone give a "puppy dog face" before, though she had heard about such a thing from time to time. Marcurio, though, she was sure had some sort of secret behind his. This was already the second…third?...fourth?...time he had coerced her into letting him tag along. The company was fine, though she wouldn't tell him that, but there was definitely something different about Marcurio's eyes. A mind-controlling or will-bending spell, perhaps? She had definitely noticed a strange feeling whenever he looked at her that way. She wouldn't have called it "magic" per say, but he was a mage after all. She hadn't known the man very long. He could have any number of powers.

"You know, there used to be an old dragon burial site out here," Marcurio mused as he trudged along behind the stern-faced woman, effectively breaking her away from her current trail of thought.

"I never was much interested in the dragons back when I was studying Nordic ruins and mythology for the University," the man continued. "Actually, I wasn't even sure that dragons had ever existed. Back then, I felt that my extensive study of the ruins and history of the ancient Nords would be the only information of real importance to me, but now I wonder if those old burials might hold some sort of clue about the return of the dragons." He chuckled slightly. "I suppose there are a few things left in the world that I still don't know. Surprising, right?"

He only sounded half sarcastic.

"The burial mounds hold nothing of value," Adaria replied, dropping down over a low ledge and continuing on at her usual brisk pace. "Not anymore, at least. And it isn't as if we need information about the return of the dragons. That was dealt with years ago."

"You mean the defeat of Alduin, right?"

The Dragonborn nodded solemnly.

The sound of hurrying feet caught Adaria's ears, then, and she turned as Marcurio came up beside her, his deep brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"So it's true then? You actually fought the World Eater himself?"

The man had the curiosity of a child, though that was a weak comparison, considering most children were too afraid of the Dragonborn to ask her about much of anything. Powerful, legendary heroes, Adaria had decided, would always be treated the same: objects of fear and fascination celebrated in death but set apart during life as trophies or gods. Never human. Unless one was speaking to Marcurio. Adaria was actually beginning to wonder if Marcurio was, indeed, human. Actually, now that she thought about it, she wouldn't put it past him to declare that he was above average humanity thanks to all his vast wealth of knowledge and power he claimed to have. In fact, judging by what she already knew about her new-found shadow, she was almost willing to wager that he was the only mortal that could potentially out-ego a Daedric prince. And Adaria had crossed paths with enough of those to know what she was comparing.

Paarthurnax had said once that Adaria had fulfilled her destiny by destroying Alduin. She herself had never been a believer in destiny. She had merely fought against Alduin because she could, because, despite her mortal frame, her dragon soul had danced at the thought of defeating one so legendary as the World Eater. However, if Adaria had believed in destiny, she had to wonder why fate would choose someone like her and not someone like Marcurio, someone with the pride and confidence of a dragon, and not just the soul of one.

"Did you not believe I have the ability to defeat one such as Alduin?" Adaria asked as the pair continued to trek across the plains outside of Whiterun.

"Oh, I believe you could," Marcurio replied with a grin. "I just wasn't sure I believed this Alduin actually existed. I mean, you know how the Nords love to blow tales out of proportion. No offense."

So that was it. It would make sense, then, why he didn't seem so frightened. If he didn't believe all the stories he had heard about her, true or otherwise, of course he would have viewed her as more human than she actually was. Now, though…? Well, he had seen her absorb a dragon soul and he had still insisted on following her around. And she was beginning to think he was too brain-dead to know danger when he saw it. Perhaps knowing this much about her would not cause him to fear her. She certainly didn't want to give him reason to, though. No, she had already said too much. And with that, she clamped her jaw firmly shut.

For a moment, the pair walked in silence, Marcurio straining to get a good look at the Dragonborn's face. He looked concerned now. Perhaps she had been a bit too harsh. Adaria might have opened her mouth to offer some sort of reassurance that she was, at least, not offended, which was probably what he was worrying over right about now, but at that moment the cool tundra breeze shifted slightly, bearing with it an all-too-familiar scent.

Instantly the woman put her hand up in a "stop" motion, nostrils flaring as she tested the wind for the direction of the odor that nearly overpowered her good sense. Marcurio frowned slightly, leaning forward and glancing around in confusion.

"What is it?" he whispered, his fingers flexing, no doubt in preparation for some sort of spell.

"Death," Adaria replied lowly. "I smell death."


Damn it, but he had done it again. Or at least, he thought he had. He wasn't quite sure.

Adaria was a tough book to read. One minute Marcurio thought he had loosened her up enough to make her comfortable to talk to him, and the next thing he knew, she had clamped her mouth firmly shut again. Perhaps the Nord comment had been too much? That didn't seem right, though. It was true he hadn't known the Dragonborn for very long, but she didn't seem the sort to take offense very easily. Was it something else he had said? He had only asked if she had really defeated Alduin, the one the legends named 'World Eater' due to the belief that the great black dragon would one day swallow the world, resulting in the birth of a new one. There was always the chance that his doubt may have caused her icy reaction. Then again, however, there was also the fact that the woman seemed to go rigid whenever he brought up the topic of dragons. It could have something to do with that.

Marcurio was about to ask what he had done wrong when Adaria froze in her tracks, her slitted ebony pupils dilating and contracting ever so slightly. Her nostrils flared then, too, almost like a wolf on the hunt. It wasn't the first time Marcurio had noticed it. There were all sorts of subtle signs that there was something different about Dragon Eyes. The flaring of nostrils with the shifting of the wind, the twitch of an ear at the first hint of a distant sound, the low, guttural growl that emanated from the woman's throat when she was angry or threatened, the menacing, feral glint in her eyes when she was caught up in the heat of battle. She was as wild as the land itself, and Marcurio couldn't help but wonder if Adaria ever sensed the world as a dragon would. Though he had never personally asked one, in lieu of the fact that dragons seemed to have a nasty habit of roasting people alive, the mage would not have been surprised to find out that dragons did, in fact, have heightened senses. If that was true, it would also make sense for Adaria to have heightened senses as well, a thought that almost…almost…made him jealous.

But of course, now was not the time for jealousy. Adaria obviously sensed something, most likely something dangerous, and Marcurio knew he would have to keep himself on his feet so as to be a help and not a hindrance should danger find them.

"What is it?" the mage inquired softly, flexing his fingers in preparation to summon whatever spell might be necessary.

Her answer sent a chill down his spine.

"Death," Adaria responded. "I smell death."

"Death?" Marcurio questioned as the pair set off at a light jog. "What do you mean? Like blood, or rotting flesh, or-?"

"Death," the Dragonborn interrupted. "Vampires have the scent. It occurs in other places too. Draugr halls and the like. But vampires have a particular variation of it."

The mage let out an exasperated sigh.

"Has anyone ever told you that your description skills are woefully lacking?"

"I was trained to slice things to ribbons, not talk them to death."

"What are you implying?"

"Nothing at all."

Adaria drew her swords then, trotting to a stop next to a boulder and glancing around. She scanned the area briefly before stepping forward, her body tense and alert.

"This is it," she said. "And it's about the right place for Broken Fang Cave, too. My guess is that the vampire from this morning originated from this den."

Marcurio had to swallow hard to keep from feeling nauseous. The stench of roasting flesh that frequently emanated from his defeated opponents was bad enough. He had never much liked the smell, but he had learned to tolerate it over the years he had spent as a mage-for-hire. Yet even that could not have prepared him for the stench of rotting flesh that wafted up from the depths of the vampires' den. It nearly made the Falmer lair smell like a bed of roses. Nearly.

"Be prepared for anything," Adaria said, sheathing her swords again and setting her rucksack up against the nearby boulder.

"Vampires aren't much for light," she continued, digging through her rucksack in search of something in particular. "My guess is it will be rather dark and disorienting inside. The bastards have some nasty spells at their disposal, too. They're particularly fond of scattering skeletons all over the place that they can raise up at a moment's notice, so watch where you step." She sent him a pointed stare. "And I don't suppose I need to warn you about the fangs."

"No," the mage chuckled nervously. "I am quite aware of that aspect of vampirism. I take it you've fought them before."

"Vampires are a damned nuisance all over Skyrim," Adaria responded. "The more time one spends out in the wilds, the more likely you are to cross paths with one. Dare I ask how many times you've fought vampires?"

For a split second, Marcurio could feel himself panicking. Well, the truth was he had never even seen a vampire until that morning, and one could hardly say he had actually fought one. But it wouldn't look very good if he admitted that, either. No, it was now time for a classic Marcurio save!

"Not as many times as you have, I'm sure," he answered smoothly, trying to erase all evidence of panic in his voice.

Adaria sighed as she stood to her feet, a torch in hand.

"In other words, never. I suspected as much."

"I never said that," the mage protested.

"You didn't need to. Here. Light this," the woman commanded, holding the unlit torch out toward him.

Marcurio blinked at her in surprise before crossing his arms over his chest in mock indignance.

"What do you think I am, a human match?"

"Don't tell me the 'Master of the Arcane' can't light a simple torch," Adaria snorted.

"Don't tell me the Dragonborn can't summon a little fire," the mage grinned back.

"Trust me," the woman sighed, the unlit torch still outstretched, "you do not want me to try and light this thing. Now hurry up before either I turn you into a human torch or we both end up as lunch for a cave full of hungry vampires."

Neither suggestion sounded pleasing to Marcurio, though the Dragonborn's threats did seem slightly empty.

"Very well," the man sighed, more for show than anything, as he reached out to take the torch from the woman's outstretched hand. A mage had his pride to defend, after all, even if he really would have acquiesced to just about anything Adaria suggested. Anything…

Wait. No. That wasn't a thought he needed to be entertaining right now.

Think vampire: nasty, blood-sucking, cannibalistic Oblivion spawn.

Blood-sucking…hmm, that mental picture was not helping him any, either.

Almost subconsciously, Marcurio shook his head as though to be rid of the thoughts racing through his mind. Quickly, he lit the torch and handed it back to Adaria, hoping that the blush he felt spreading across his face was mere imagination and not actually visible. The dragon-eyed woman shot him a questioning glance, but he waved at the air as though to dismiss any possible inquiries as to his behavior.

"Flies," he explained, pretending to be scanning their surroundings as he looked anywhere but back at the woman he secretly called Dragon Eyes.

"I see," Adaria replied, stepping toward the entrance to the cave, drawing Bolar's Oathblade as she went.

If she had suspected anything about his odd behavior, she made no indication of it.

"Alright," the woman said, testing her grip on the katana's handle, the blade flashing patches of sunlight in all directions. "Let's kill these bastards. Once and for all."