"What's gotten into you?" The Dragonborn asked.

He'd barely shut the door to Breezehome when she'd accosted him.

"What's gotten into me? I think the better question is: what's gotten into you!" He snapped.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

Marcurio groaned, "Is this the part where you make me guess?"

She rolled her eyes in response, "No, this is the part where we try to figure out what happened."

"So what happened?" It was more of a statement on his part, than a question.

"You're pouting."

"I am not pouting! Grown men don't pout!"

She chose to ignore that he was in fact, pouting at this exact moment. "Grown men don't need chaperones."

The mage was indignant again. "I need a chaperone? I thought that's what you hired me for!"

That earned him an odd look. "I was under the impression that you had quit."

Marcurio practically deflated. "Oh."

"Yes, 'Oh.' Imagine my confusion when you followed me to the inn." Her tone was dry, but she was smirking.

He scrambled for an excuse, "I figured you owed me a drink for setting me up."

"An account balanced out by the fact that I took you to the Temple and took care of any expenses." She replied evenly.

"That's only fair, but I don't think that makes it even." He muttered.

She put a fist on her hip and made an exasperated noise. "What more could you want? And I did pay for your drink, by the way."

His face flushed in embarrassment.

Concern marred her features, "Marcurio, are you ill?"

"No."

She stared at him a moment longer, before asking carefully, "Marcurio, were you… jealous?"

He spluttered, "What? No!"

"You were, weren't you? How precious!" She was smiling again. The smile that he knew NOT to like.

"It's not like that at all!" The mage protested.

"Was it about the conversation, then? Don't like that I see more women than you?" She snickered.

His jaw dropped bonelessly, and his mouth went dry. All he managed was a lame, "No."

The Dragonborn was nonplussed. "My, someone took that personally."

"You're mean."

"And you pout a lot."

"I do not!"

"And now we're back to the lying game." She sighed and put her other hand on her forehead.

"Says the noble." He muttered. That comment earned him another look from his fellow Imperial, but he didn't care what she thought at the moment. "So much for honesty."

She studied him, head cocked to the side, as she mused aloud, "We never did have that talk."

"And you think now is a good time?"

The woman sat in the chair closest to the door. "Why not? We've got time, no dangerous assignments, no mad requests, and no one who'd dare to bother us in my home."

The mage stiffened at the last part. This was dangerous territory, and to escape, he'd have to get past her. His shoulders sagged at his temporary defeat. "I guess there's no escaping this."

She chuckled as he trudged over to the empty chair by her. "Oh come, now. You speak as though I'd eat you!"

"I don't know, Dragonborn. Are you sure it's not in your blood?"

"Nonsense! I would do no such thing." She poured them both water from the pitcher.

"Really? I'd have never have guessed from the way you hound me all the time…" He grumbled as he accepted a mug.

"Well, here's your chance to hound me for some answers." She leaned back in her chair and waited.

He stopped for a moment, considering. She probably wouldn't tell him anything personal, but if he asked carefully, he might learn more about her than she would him.

"Why are you always referring to me as 'mage'?"

"You wonder why I don't consider myself one?" She returned.

He made a face rather than respond.

The woman sighed. "When I refer to practitioners as such, I mean nothing by it. Most of the time, anyway. The reason I don't consider myself one of you, is that my abilities are limited. I'd have to devote serious time and study to it before being comfortable with the title."

"And that has nothing to do with how Nords react to mages?" He challenged.

She rolled her eyes. "No one who matters will care, and those who do can be won over. The rest can go to Oblivion."

"And what if the ones who care are important?" He pressed.

"Dragonborn, remember?" She smirked, "They'll have to put up with it or make do without my help."

Marcurio found himself smirking as well, "And we all know how no one can seem to make do without you."

She groaned and leaned forward to lean on the table. "Tell me about it."

The mage smirked. She caught the look and interjected quickly, "On second thought, don't."

He sighed, "I guess it's your turn to ask me something."

"No need to look so worried! It's just a simple question!"

"Lady, nothing is simple with you."

"Behave, or I will poke you." Her eyes narrowed at him.

"How unladylike! What would your mother-" He stopped when he saw her lean over the table to get to him. "-Okay, okay! Just ask your stupid question!"

She retracted her hand but did not lean back in her chair. "Why do you use 'Sparks' so much?"

"It's 'Chain Lightning'!"

She waved her hand dismissively, "I will call it that when you can use it properly."

"I can use it properly!"

"Really? Because I know plenty of people who would disagree."

"Well, I know plenty of people who didn't." He grinned suggestively. He was gratified at how her eyes widened at the insinuation. "Care to try it sometime?"

The Imperial leaned back this time, "No thank you. I already have, and I did not appreciate it."

"Maybe that idiot didn't know what he was doing." He smirked.

"That idiot was you, and that was in combat, so yes… 'that idiot' did NOT know what he was doing."

He placed a hand over his heart in mock agony, "You wound me!"

"I will if you don't figure out how to use it properly!"

Marcurio smiled at her annoyance. "My turn!"

The Dragonborn crossed her arms. "You didn't answer my question. But since I don't expect a real answer, by all means, ask away."

"Now who's pouting!"

"Just ask your question." She groused.

"Why did you leave?"

Her eyes bore into his, but he did not respond. "I think you know better than to expect a real answer to that, just as I know not to expect one from you."

He didn't flinch. "Do you miss it?"

There was a long silence, and he held his breath waiting for any sort of response.

The Dragonborn heaved a heavy sigh and looked into the hearth. Her eyes were unreadable. "Some days, yes."

Marcurio put down his mug and heaved a sigh of his own. "I suppose neither of us have an easy road home."

Her eyes found his. "Is it? Still home, I mean?"

He didn't have an answer for her, and she didn't expect one. So he played with his mug, turning it this way and that. Inspecting, without real interest, the marks of use all over its polished surface. It was why her next question caught him unawares.

"Why do you hate caves so much? You used to like exploring them at one point."

He smirked, "I might be more interested if you weren't always finding ones intent on killing us."

She looked at him curiously, "You don't find the relics of the Dwemer fascinating?"

"I would find the Dwemers' mechanical guardians fascinating if they didn't try to kill everything on sight." He said dryly.

"Fair enough." She chuckled.

"What about you?" He asked. "Why do you like exploring them so much?"

Marcurio did not expect the amount of emotion that came over her before she subdued it.

"Sorry, I…" He fumbled for an apology, "I didn't think it was such a personal question..."

The woman waved him off, and he sat there, motionless. The Dragonborn never lost control, not like this. She got angry, frustrated, and sometimes even laughed more than necessary, but this…

"Her name was Katria."

He stared at the other Imperial.

"I pursued her all over Skyrim, a race to the finish, trying to uncover one of the Dwemer's greatest, and most elusive, secrets."

"Did you succeed?" He asked carefully.

"Yes." She said simply.

"What happened?" He asked her as carefully as he could.

The Dragonborn wore a bitter smile as she looked dully into the fire. "The story was over before it ever began. I simply arrived in time for an encore written in blood."

Well, that didn't explain much, but the tone was ominous enough for him to hazard a guess…

"You loved her?"

"I might have."

Something in his heart constricted, even though he couldn't have explained why.

"I'm sorry."

A feeble laugh escaped her, "Don't be. You had nothing to do with it."

"Well, I'm still sorry." He insisted softly.

She stared at him again. There was a question there, he saw it in her eyes… But she didn't ask, and he said nothing.

Eventually, the Dragonborn stood up. "Well, I think it's time for bed."

He immediately agreed. "Sounds good to me."

"You don't have a room at the inn?"

The mage froze. "Oh. Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

She laughed it off. "If you don't mind sharing tonight, you can stay. But don't get any ideas."

He rolled his eyes at that, "Right, because we had the most erotically stimulating conversation just now…"

The Dragonborn punched him in jest, and made her way up the stairs. She must have been more tired than she thought, because she stumbled and he had to catch her.

"Well," He laughed, "that was exciting."

"My Thane, you've returned…"

Marcurio looked up to see a Nord warrior at the top of the stairs. The fall had apparently woken the woman. Her eyes took in the sight of her fallen Thane and she went livid.

"Damn you!" The Nord charged.

"Lydia, wait…!"

Marcurio's world went black.

Pain. It was receding to a dull ache, but it was the first thing he noticed as he came to his senses. There were furs, and the room was dark, save for the light emanating from surprisingly gentle hands.

"Was that...some sort of healing spell?"

"Stop moving." The Dragonborn tsked.

The mage was happy to oblige, especially if it made the pain go away.

He'd never had the opportunity to observe her from this close. Necessity demanded many a night huddled together in the cold landscape of Skyrim, but being intent on not freezing to death or getting eaten left little energy for exploration. Besides, it was unprofessional - not that it had stopped him with previous employers - and she was more than likely to kill him if he tried.

But here... here she wore a simple night shift, no layers of armour and padding hiding her form. The bulk of her hair was swept back by a simple ribbon, but it wasn't strict enough to stop a fair amount from escaping. She leaned over him, inspecting his body and working her magic as she went, and as she moved, he noticed that she didn't wear trousers to bed. Possibly not even a breast band, if the way her shift hung on her was any indication; it flowed over soft peaks that would have otherwise been pressed flat...

"Marcurio, for shame!"

"What?"

"I hope you didn't… display your appreciation for Danica's talents in the same way…" She sighed in exasperation. He didn't need to look to know he was sporting an erection.

He probably shouldn't antagonize her, but he grinned and did so anyway, "What, are you jealous?"

The Dragonborn made a disgusted noise and muttered. "Unbelieveable…"

"Sorry, it does that sometimes." She gave him a look, and he held his hands up in an attempt to placate her. "I'm a man, I can't help doing that…"

She didn't look convinced, but she seemed amused as she commented, "I wondered why Danica left you with so many bruises. I thought she was exhausted by your attitude."

"And I thought you didn't know anything about restoration magic."

"When did I ever give you that impression?" She looked at him quizzically.

"Anyone who studies Restoration would know that healing others is not the same as healing yourself. And you criticized my inability to do both."

"Well, they're both important."

"So is your money." He countered, "If you could have done this yourself, why didn't you?"

"Maybe I didn't want a strange man in my bed." She quipped.

It was a bad idea, but he couldn't stop himself, "And Vilkas isn't a strange man?"

"That is none of your business." The woman looked positively scandalized.

"Well, Sam certainly was…"

She hit him with a pillow. "No, I did NOT sleep with EITHER of them, so would you just drop it?"

"Did you sleep with Lydia?"

"She's my housecarl!" That would be most improper!"

"More improper than sharing a bedroll with me?" The rogue Imperial grinned.

"Oh, you…!" The Dragonborn attacked his sides, and he shouted.

A knock on the door.

"My Thane? Is everything alright?"

The Dragonborn didn't relent in her assault to answer. "I'm fine, Lydia! Just teaching an impertinent mage a lesson!"

"Oh… As you wish, my Thane."

"No! Wait…!" Marcurio's cries went unanswered.

Well, enough was enough, and the mage fought back. He struggled and reached for the Dragonborn's sides, and found… practically no response.

"You're not ticklish?!"

She nearly laughed at the horror in his voice.

"Not in the slightest."

"Oh that's just not fair…!"

She merely laughed as her fingers made their way up and down his sides, across his stomach, the undersides of his arms, his neck…

Somehow, he managed to seize her wrists. It would not be enough. The Dragonborn cried out in mock outrage and struggled to free herself from his grip. It was with no small amount of pleasure that he found that he was strong enough to hold on to her. Barely. And maybe being the tiniest bit bigger than her gave him enough leverage. Maybe. He still didn't care to take on the woman in an even match. Eventually he tipped her over and managed to pin her to the bed beneath him. It a was a tenuous victory, and he tried to get as much air into his lungs as possible before she tried anything. And he made absolutely sure to keep her hands pinned above her head, right where he could see them.

When he looked at her, he was shocked to see the flush in her cheeks as she gasped for air. And there was something dark in her eyes that made him swallow.

"Marcurio…" His name was a needy whisper on her lips.

He didn't question it right then. All he knew was that he needed to kiss her, right then, right there. Couldn't have stopped himself if he tried. He captured her lips and found them to be soft, pliant, and willing. He drew his tongue across her bottom lip before he nipped it, and her faint moan caused him to involuntarily press into her.

A wicked thought crept into his mind and he froze.

He needed to stop before he got carried away.

He broke the kiss to pull away, but had to raise himself further when she tried to lean into him. Wide eyes stared up at him, confusion mixed in with her desire.

"I thought you liked women." He said dumbly.

"I do."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Then why are we doing this?"

"Because I want to."

He blinked. "Why?"

"Because I like you, you idiot."

He stared at her. "You like me."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I do."

A lopsided grin started to creep its way onto his face, "Well, I'm not sure if I like you."

"Really? Then what's happening down there?" Her eyes flicked downwards.

"That's a trap."

That startled a laugh out of her, "A what?"

"You heard me. What am I always telling you? 'Be sure to keep an eye out for traps.' And now look at you."

"Oh you insufferable…!"

She struggled some more but he cut her off with another kiss. He didn't relent until she gave in, whimpering. Groaning, he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Are you going to behave?"

"Give me a reason to." She laughed breathlessly.

"I'm going to show you an alternate use for Sparks."

He felt her tense.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

He kissed her shoulder. "You're about to find out."

"Marcurio…" she spoke his name in warning.

"What? You're always saying I need to work on my spellcraft-

"-In close quarters?" She laughed, "Well, I never meant it quite like this."

"Is that a yes?" He prodded.

"... I better not regret this."

"Oh, I promise…"

Lydia sat in the Bannered Mare drinking.

"What's this? A beautiful woman like you, drinking all alone on a night like this?"

The woman turned to see a Breton conjurer in a black robe.

"I'm just taking a break. I'll head back home when I'm ready." She turned back to her mead.

"Any reason you can't drink there?" He smirked.

"That's none of your business." The warrior said evenly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." He smiled.

Lydia watched the Breton leer at some unseen image and toasted no one on particular. "Here's to you, you crazy kids."

He downed his drink and slammed his mug on the counter.

"So," he began, "You and I have some time to kill… How about a drinking game…?"