If Marcurio had ever wondered what it would feel like to have a herd of mammoths tromp across his brain while a clan of angry Forsworn fired arrows into it and a psychotic mage electrocuted it with duel-wielded chain lightning, he didn't need to wonder anymore. It had been a very, very long time since he had ever had a headache this bad.
A groan escaped the mage's lips as consciousness slowly returned to him, and cautiously he shifted positions. That seemed like a bad idea, though, because the next thing he knew, it felt like Red Mountain was trying to blow up for a second time...this time from his stomach. Slowly the man lifted his eyelids, moaning miserably when the light of a single candle caught his eyes. Instantly a shadow moved in front of the light, and the next thing Marcurio knew, someone had dropped a cool, damp cloth on his face.
"Idiot," came Adaria's voice from nearby.
Cautiously Marcurio opened his eyes again, slowly reaching up to the damp cloth lying on his face and pressing it to his forehead.
"Adaria?"
"I told you not to dare me."
The mage glanced up at the woman towering above him. She was standing with her arms across her chest, but her demeanor seemed more frustrated than angry.
"How do you not have a hangover?" Marcurio inquired as Adaria moved over towards the table.
He could hear some sort of liquid being poured, and he grimaced. Not only was his head throbbing and his stomach threatening to reject everything he had put into it in the past 24 hours, but he also needed to piss like nothing else.
Mental note: no more drinking contests with Adaria.
The Dragonborn was silent for a time. Then she turned and held out a small cup towards Marcurio. The man eyed the object doubtfully, trying to decide if he dared move in an attempt to accept whatever it was Adaria was trying to offer him, and with a sigh, the woman sat down on the edge of the bed, slipping one arm under his head and lifting it enough for him to drink from the cup.
"Water," Adaria stated bluntly.
A shiver of excitement ran down Marcurio's spine as the woman pressed the rim of the cup to his lips, and he put his free hand over hers. Just to steady the cup of course...
Since the night he had rescued her from the wounds the Falmer had inflicted, he had never been able to get that close to her. Certainly, she had never touched him voluntarily before. But now here she was, cradling his head in the crook of her arm, her long fingers pressed lightly into his shoulder. Now if only she wasn't wearing that damned dragonscale armor…
Drink slowly, drink slowly, drink slowly…
If she asked why it was taking him so long to drink a bit of water, he could always say it was because his stomach felt like it was about to explode, which wouldn't be a lie, and this way he could enjoy Adaria's touch without scaring her off. The last thing he wanted was to make her go all cold on him again. She really did seem oddly gentle right now though. Had something...happened?
As he sipped on the water Adaria offered him, Marcurio racked his brain for any hint of what might have occurred between them the night before. He remembered the drinking contest. Well...most of it. Then there had been something about a party and the Winking Skeever, though he wasn't sure how those two went together. Had he been singing? Oh, gods, he hoped not. A key, a door, Adaria...yes, Adaria had been there. He could still see those sharp silver dragon eyes staring straight into his own, the feel of soft skin beneath his hands and the smell of spiced wine on her lips. Marcurio was suddenly glad for the dark room, because he could feel his cheeks burning now. Had he kissed her? He didn't think so. The fact that he was still alive was a good indicator of that. It felt like he had been talking. What had he said? He hoped it wasn't something stupid. He had thought about kissing her, though. Or had that been a dream? It was hard to tell what had actually happened and what had only occurred in his mind.
He was so focused on trying to remember everything that he stopped drinking the water, and the next thing he knew, Adaria had let his head slide back onto the pillow as she set the cup off to the side. Marcurio pouted. That hadn't lasted nearly long enough.
"You should try to continue drinking water every once in a while," Adaria said, refilling the cup that she had placed on the end table nearby. She then set the pitcher down next to the cup.
"Did you put something in the water?" Marcurio inquired. "It tasted different."
The Dragonborn nodded.
"I managed to secure some lemons from the Blue Palace," the woman explained. "They should help a bit with the nausea. Also, I've got some food here for you. You should try to eat something soon. It will taste better while it's warm."
Marcurio glanced in the direction Adaria motioned and spotted a small platter containing a slice of bread, a small bowl, and what looked to be bits of apple cut up into small chunks.
"Thanks," Marcurio mused. "You know, you really didn't have to do all this for me."
For a moment, Adaria was silent, then she gently took the wet rag out of his hand, dipped it in a bowl of water, squeezed it out, then handed it back to him.
"I'm going back to the Blue Palace for a bit," she said, beginning to strap her swords to her hips. "The court should be awake now. I'm going to see about some work, but you should stay here and rest. I'll be back around noon, most likely."
"You never answered my question earlier," Marcurio pouted.
"Question?"
"About how you don't have a hangover, even though you clearly out-drank me. I really need to learn your secret."
Adaria stared at him for a moment, then blew out the candle and turned towards the door.
"There really is no secret," she responded. "I simply can't get drunk. At least, not on normal liquor."
There was a slight growl in her voice when she said that last sentence. Then, with a sigh, she opened the door to the room, and Marcurio cringed as light from the main area of the inn poured through the opening.
"Don't forget the water and food," Adaria said. "Take it easy until I get back."
Then with that, the woman closed the door behind her and pleasant darkness consumed the room again. With a sigh, Marcurio sank back into the bed, throwing one arm over his eyes as he pressed the cool, damp cloth to his forehead. So Adaria couldn't get drunk, huh? She might have told him that little detail before accepting the challenge. Then again, he really wasn't very good at learning his lesson. Somehow, every time he dared Adaria to do anything, it backfired on him. But still...maybe it hadn't been a completely bad thing.
The feeling of Adaria's arm wrapped around him, the sensation of her fingers pressed into his skin, the memory of those captivating silver eyes staring into his own and the lingering smell of spiced wine on her lips...it was enough to drive a man mad. Marcurio wasn't certain what all had happened the night before, but one thing he did know was that something was changing in Adaria. She wasn't just tolerating him, and it really didn't seem like she was even merely being kind. And the more he thought about her touch, the more he craved it. She had to know she cared about him, somewhere deep inside of her if nothing else. And if something he had done the night before had helped soften her a bit, then he was sure the price he paid now would bring its own reward in the end.
Adaria had heard about hangovers before. She had seen more than her fair share of the evidences, too. But Marcurio? The man was such a child. Impressive, though, that he had managed to keep it all in his stomach. Not everyone was that strong. Perhaps the Imperial was part Nord after all.
Quietly Adaria drew in a deep breath, trying to focus her mind, but instantly she regretted it once the evidences of the previous night's festival accosted her nostrils. Apparently, spiced wine wasn't the only thing watering the streets and gardens this morning. And this was another reason why she hated festivals...
A sigh escaped the Dragonborn's lips as she tried to ignore the stench that assaulted her senses in waves. All of this for that damned mage…
Slowly the woman lifted one gauntleted hand, staring absentmindedly at it as she made her way down the sloping cobblestone road toward the Blue Palace at the far end of the city. She didn't even blink at the people who shied away from her as they passed.
You know, you really didn't have to do all this for me.
No. There were a lot of things she didn't have to do for him. And yet she did them anyway. It was appalling, really. Her behavior toward Marcurio defied all manner of reason. What was it about the man that changed her so much?
Adaria could feel a warm sensation throbbing in her chest at the thought of him. It was a strange feeling, one she had never felt before. The woman clenched her fist and lifted her head, bringing her hand back to her side and standing up straight as she came within sight of the palace doors. At one point in time, she would have had enough reason and self-control to force the man to leave; now, though, she didn't even have the ability to consider that. Because the truth was, she was selfish, and she didn't want him to leave. Who else would talk freely with her, dare her to do ridiculous things, or brush up against her without shying away? Who else would smile at her, call her friend, and tell her she was beautiful? No one else she had ever met, that was for sure. The thought made her angry at herself.
Selfish, foolish woman. And what will you do when he gets hurt because of you?
A sigh escaped Adaria's lips. She was fairly certain she had never thought so much about anything in her entire life.
The question was still rolling through the Dragonborn's mind as she stepped through the doors into the Blue Palace and made her way toward the stairs leading up to the jarl's throne. The sound of voices in heated discussion broke her away from her thoughts.
"I swear to you!" a man's voice was saying as Adaria mounted the stairs. "Unnatural magics are coming from that cave! There are strange noises and lights! We need someone to investigate!"
The Dragonborn paused at the head of the stairs. In front of her, she could see a couple of guards and a lone mage standing on either side of a throne, where Jarl Elisif sat with rapt attention as the speaker, a man wearing a commoner's tunic, waved his hands about emphatically. Another man, this one more distinguished than the speaker, rolled his eyes from where he stood near the jarl's throne. This one, Adaria knew, was Falk Firebeard, Jarl Elisif's steward.
The jarl sat up quickly at the petitioner's words, and the moment he stopped speaking, the woman puffed out her chest and declared, "Then we will immediately send out a legion to scour the cave and secure the town. Haafingar's people will always be safe under my rule!"
Adaria stared back at the jarl impassively. Elisif had always been an irrational and impulsive one. Personally, the Dragonborn hated dealing with her. Thankfully, there were others she could speak to regarding work.
"Your eminence," the lone mage, Sybille Stentor, interrupted quickly, "my scrying has suggested nothing in the area. Dragon Bridge is under Imperial control. This is likely superstitious nonsense."
Just then, Falk Firebeard stepped forward.
"Perhaps a more...tempered reaction...might be called for?"
Falk was often the sole voice of reason in this court.
"Oh," Jarl Elisif responded, looking genuinely surprised at the suggestion. "Yes, of course. You are right. Falk, tell Captain Aldis I said to assign a few extra soldiers to Dragon Bridge."
"Thank you, Jarl Elisif," the petitioner said, sounding slightly relieved and slightly troubled at the same time. "But about the cave…"
"I will have someone take care of the cave as well. Varnius, you can rest easy. You are dismissed," the jarl replied, assuming a self-important air.
The petitioner's lips pulled into a fine line, then he bowed stiffly and turned toward the stairs. Adaria sidestepped out of the way as the man darted past her. Then she locked her eyes on Falk and headed straight toward him.
"Dragonborn!" Falk said when he spotted the redheaded woman coming his way.
He shifted uncomfortably when she got close, and Adaria could sense the tension in the air when she came to a stop in front of the steward.
"What was that about a cave?" she inquired.
Best to get straight to the point and be done with it. She had no desire to spend any extra time talking to someone who was obviously quite happy when she was not around.
Falk looked at her with mild surprise.
"You mean the Dragon Bridge issue?" he questioned, shifting uneasily again. "I'll be honest with you, I was planning to let that go. Varnius is a bit jumpy at the best of times."
"What was it he was reporting?"
"There have been reports of weird happenings near Wolfskull Cave. Travelers disappearing, odd lights. I suspect wild animals or perhaps bandits."
Wild animals my ass, Adaria frowned to herself. Bandits, maybe. Wild animals? No wild animal she could think of would cause strange lights. Not unless the unstable Varnius was mistaking torchbugs. Either way, it sounded like it was worth something to look into it.
Falk stiffened even more when the Dragonborn frowned, then added quickly, "I don't think it's worth our time with the war going on, but if you want to clear out the cave, I'll make sure you're repaid for your work. That's what you're here for, right?"
Adaria nodded placidly, then turned on her heels.
"I'll take care of it first thing tomorrow morning," she said blandly.
Falk shrugged at this.
"Take your time."
Then with that, Adaria headed back down the stairs. That had been easier than she thought. Perhaps now would be a good time to see about repairing and upgrading armor and provisions. After all, Marcurio probably wouldn't be in shape to even sneeze for the next few hours in any case. She'd leave him be until then.