A/N: Once again, the only parts I own are the story plot and our proud parents. All other characters, settings, and associated intellectual property belong to Bethesda.

Lucia was outside, sitting on a boulder near the Manor. Now a young woman of 15, she was practicing her spell-work, having started studying Alteration magic. Mama had told her that some of these spells required her to have an "intimate knowledge of what she wanted to change". Hence, the boulder.

The latest spell would make her skin as tough as stone. She had been meditating on the feel of the rock beneath her, it's steadiness and unyielding nature. The rest of the world was fading away, just her and the stone...

"Hey, sparky!"

Well, there goes any chance of peace. Lucia grumbled a bit, rolling her neck before opening her eyes. Hroar was coming from the house, smirking as he approached.

"How goes 'being the rock'?"

"It'd be better without the interruptions." She arched her eyebrow, having learned how to look serious from her Ma.

Hroar didn't have the sense to look perturbed. "Well, I think it can wait. Pa wanted to speak with us."

Lucia cocked her head to the side. "Wonder what for. It's not like we've lit anything on fire."

Hroar laughed at that. "Recently, you mean."

Lucia got her legs underneath her, and followed her brother inside.

When they entered the house, it was to find Breskan and Aisling sitting at the table in the main hall. Lucia felt nervous. This seems to be serious. She and Hroar took their own seats.

Breskan spoke first. "Thank you for getting her Hroar. So, I'm guessing you're both wondering why I called you in?"

"I know I am!" Hroar's answer belied his impatience. Lucia rolled her eyes. Her brother's haste had led them on a number of little adventures.

Breskan simply smiled. "Well, both of you are becoming young adults now. So, I thought that it was time we had a certain talk."

Lucia threw her hands up. "Whoa, we've already had 'The Talk' years ago. Do we really need that again?" Hroar seemed suddenly interested in the ceiling.

Breskan chuckled. "No, not that! Don't worry, it's nothing like that." His features settled into a more serious look. "How much do you two remember about the Orc Strongholds?"

The two adopted children looked at each other, turning back to their father. Hroar answered first. "There's four here in Skyrim. They're places where the Orsimer live away from the main cities, and practice their own culture in peace. They're also very wary of outsiders."

Breskan nodded his head. "Correct on all accounts." He leaned forward then, steeling his hands before him. "The strongholds, as a rule, only trust orcs and those they consider blood-kin. And every spring, the clans send their youth to one of the strongholds to test their mettle. Those that prove themselves are welcomed as adults among the Orsimer."

Lucia started to make the connections. "You want us to go and take part in this."

The smile returned to Breskan's face. "I thought I would give you two the option. It would allow you to travel through the strongholds freely, and the Orsimer clans would protect you as one of their own, should you ever be in trouble."

Lucia knitted her brows in thought. Something occurred to her. "Ma, what about you?"

Aisling spoke up for the first time. "I'm already considered blood-kin by the strongholds. I aided your Pa in a task before we were wed, and earned my place among them."

Lucia considered this for a moment. She turned to her brother, and the two looked at each other. Hroar cocked an eyebrow, a smirk emerging on his lips. Lucia returned the expression, turning back to her parents. "What do we need to do?"

Pa had explained it to the two of them, the entire family traveling to the northeast stronghold of Narzulbur. Each year, the clans would decide on a task or test for the "whelps" to attempt. Apparently one year it was whoever could get into a giant camp and claim something from the giant's belongings. Another year, it was whoever could craft the best sword.

Lucia looked at her Mama. "What did you help Pa with?"

The wood elf smiled. "The chief of Largashbur had allowed giants to overrun a shrine to Malacath. Your father and I went with the chief to clear the giants out. The fool tried to do it on his own, was promptly stepped on. The two of us finished the task ourselves."

Lucia had to suppress a gag. Dying because you were stepped on by a giant. It sounded less than pleasant.

After three days, the family arrived at Narzulbur. Before approaching the gates, Breskan took out a small jar. Lucia recognized it as his war paint, what the marking around his left eye was drawn with. She was curious what it was for. "Pa, don't you already have your war paint on?" Breskan turned to her. "Yes, but it's not for me." He proceeded to turn to Aisling, who closed her eyes. He kept talking as he applied it to her face in the same pattern as his. "The paint is my family marking. Members of my clan, so to speak, use it to identify one another." He stepped away from Aisling, her own left eye matching his.

"It identifies me as a member of his clan, and as blood-kin." Aisling then smiled. "Plus, I've always like wearing it when I have reason to." She lightly pecked her husband's cheek. Lucia could see his blush. "When you complete your trials, you too can wear this paint."

When they came to the entrance, the sentry's voice met them. "Halt! Who approaches Narzulbur?"

Breskan stepped forward. "I am Breskan, here with Aisling, known as Yolos, and our children. They wish to prove themselves as blood-kin, and are of age to do so."

The sentry considered this, before calling back. "Very well, we welcome you and yours. Step inside."

The family proceeded through the now open gate, entering a small clearing. Hroar turned to Aisling. "Yolos?"

Aisling nodded. "My name as blood-kin, taken from the dragon-tongue. It means 'flames'." She arched an eyebrow at her husband. "Your Pa finds himself to be poetic at times." Breskan merely smiled back at her.

Lucia looked at her mother, looking at the deep red hair, and remembering her temper when protecting someone. Pa does have a point, though. It was then that an orc approached them, adorned in heavy armor.

"Breskan, Yolos! It has been many winters since you've last been here!"

Mama and Pa stepped forward, Pa answering. "We've been quite busy!" Pa extended an arm, which the other orc clasped with his own. He then did the same with Mama, before turning to Lucia and Hroar.

"So, these are your whelps, eh? Hm." He circled her and Hroar, appraising them. Lucia didn't think there was much to see. She had her hair tied in a braid, and both of them were wearing their traveling outfits, leather armor over simple tunics and breeches.

Mama spoke up. "Come now, Mauhulakh. Let them prove themselves, instead of being gawked at like cattle."

The orc, Maukulakh, seemed to gather himself. "Of course. Well, having you here is certainly a surprise. We thought we had all of the whelps we would get this year. I can see it'll be quite an interesting proving." He held out a hand, gesturing to a spot up the hill. The family made their way forward.

They came to an area that had been roped off into a circle, where a few other orc youths loitered around, adults behind them speaking. They looked up at the arrival of the two humans. Lucia suddenly felt very out of place. A hand settled on her shoulder, giving a squeeze. She looked into her Pa's face, giving a smile she hoped looked confident.

Mauhulakh entered the roped off circle. "Well then, welcome all to this year's proving. This year, it has been decided that we shall have a Test of Might to appraise you. Whelps will be paired off and fight. Prove the strength of your arm and the skill of your training, and you will be recognized as an adult amongst the Orsimer!"

One of the orc youths spoke up. "What are those pale-skins doing here?"

Lucia tried to keep herself calm. Hroar did no such thing, shooting a dirty look at the one who spoke.

"They are the whelps of two of our own, and have as much right to this as you, Grilkr." Mauhulakh addressed the gathered crowd. "Weapons will be provided to each whelp, so that they may fight. The blades have been dulled, but make no mistake, act foolishly, and you will be blooded. Any talents or magic you know, you may also use. But be warned." At this, the old orc looked into the eyes of every youth there, turning in spot. "You are not to kill today. This trial is just as much a test of your restraint as it is of your strength. Break this rule, and your punishment will be immediate. Do I make myself clear?"

All of the people gathered made no effort to argue this point. Lucia let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Well, at least I'll only be viciously maimed, but still alive. Mama's healed worse. She'd probably make me do it myself, though.

Mauhulakh pulled a pouch from his belt. "In here I have a number of colored stones. I want each whelp to come forward and pull a stone out. The two whelps who share a color will face each other in the ring. Now, come forward."

Hroar wasted no time, immediately rushing forward to take a stone. He plunged his hand into the bag, pulling out a blue colored rock. He went to stand on the side while others came forward.

Lucia was the fifth one to take a turn. Reaching in, she felt for a moment, before grasping and withdrawing her hand. When she opened it, she saw she had pulled an orange stone. She heard a laugh to her left. Turning, she saw the loud youth, Grilkr, from earlier smiling.

"You're blood is mine, pale-skin!" Lucia tried to keep her back straight, her eyes determined. As she turned to join her brother, she spared a glance to her parents. Mama gave her a confident grin. Pa looked ready to throttle Grilkr. Both of those things made her feel more at ease.

The day continued, and with them, the matches. Hroar had the first fight, and Lucia had to admit, he was impressive. Though she enjoyed pestering her brother for all his time spent reading battle tactics or bothering Pa for sparring matches (he still lost regularly), it was clear it had been effective.

Hroar appeared as a blur, a startling combination of feints, parries, and ripostes. He never took a hit, but didn't laud it over his opponent. Instead, he disarmed the orc boy, and told him to yield. The boy did, and the match was declared over. Hroar exited the ring, shooting Lucia a grin as he went to rejoin their parents.

The next few matches were brutal, if less impressive than her brother's performance. These orc youths were ferocious, using heavy swings and direct blows, clearly trying to overwhelm their opponent with as few a number of blows as they could, wanting to prove their strength. Plenty of bruises were made.

And then, it was her turn to enter the ring.

"Those who pulled orange stones, step forward and choose your weapon!" Mauhulakh's order snapped Lucia out of her thoughts. She looked around, spying Grilkr making his way into the ring, a smirk on his features. Lucia saw that he was already carrying war hammer, slung easily over a shoulder. Well, guess blunting that would only make it hit harder.

Lucia approached the weapon rack, before selecting a simple steel sword. She descended into the ring, standing a short distance away from her adversary.

Mauhulakh's voice rang out. "May Malacath witness your strength and deem you worthy! Begin!"

Lucia brought her sword up in a guard, and it's good that she did. Grilkr had hefted the hammer into a wide swing, and what it lacked in finesse, it certainly made up for in brute force. Lucia felt the wave of air as it passed, knocking her blade to the side and arm going numb with the impact.

She barely had time to react before she saw Grilkr twist his arms with the swing, using the hammer's momentum to bring it down in an overhead slam. Lucia forced her legs into motion, springing out of the way. What happened next surprised her. Grilkr pulled on the haft of the war hammer, pulling himself forward. In that movement, he thrust out a leg, kicking Lucia in the gut.

Lucia instantly lost her breath, and struggled to take air in. She fell to her knees, blade dropped and hands clutching her abdomen. She looked up, tears in her eyes, to see her adversary settling the hammer across his shoulders.

"I knew you were weak. Just like all pale-skins." Grilkr took the hammer in both hands, readying another overhead swing. Lucia closed her eyes, trying to gather her wits, trying to remember what she could do to get out of this...

"Lucia, are you alright?"

Lucia looked up, meeting Pa's eyes. She wiped tears out of her eyes. "I don't think I'm ever going to get this."

Lucia had been sparring against Breskan again, as she had been for the past year. He looked down at his 12 year old daughter, before sitting on the ground next to her.

"You know, there's always different ways to fight." Breskan looked at Lucia, waiting for a reaction.

Lucia let out a huff. "Hroar always says that a 'blade is best'."

Breskan nodded his head. "Your brother always has favored a sword over everything else. But no, I'm talking about one of the oldest weapons in existence." Breskan curled his hand into a fist to emphasize his point.

Lucia looked bewildered at the idea. "You want me to use my fists!?"

Breskan chuckled. "You'd be surprised how effective using your bare hands can be. And no one would expect it." He picked himself off the ground, brushing the dirt off. "Now c'mon. I'm going to show you how to throw a punch."

A loud 'clang' rang out over the ring. Aisling was gripping the ropes of the ring, while Breskan tried to get Hroar to stop from jumping in himself. The war hammer had impacted with Lucia on her back, her form still kneeling.

After a breath, Lucia brought herself up to her feet, shrugging the hammer off. The most surprised reaction she received was from Grilkr, his eyes going wide. They only grew wider when a fist connected with his jaw, feeling like he'd been hit with a brick.

Lucia let out a breath, and settled into a wide stance, arms defensively held in front of her. She couldn't help but feel elated. If I ever needed to master Stoneskin, I'm glad it was now. She then proceeded to approach her opponent, watching for a reaction.

Grilkr gave it to her. He bellowed in rage, and made a wild swing with his hammer. Lucia saw it coming, and twirled around the weapon, using her spin to launch another fist into Grilkr's face. He unsteadily gained his feet after the blow, and in the moment it took him to recover, Lucia closed the distance and thrust a fist into his gut.

Grilkr let out a great wheeze, and collapsed onto the ground. Mauhulakh approached the youth, checking for a pulse. "He's alive. Take him to the healer." The chief turned to the young Imperial, thrusting her hand up. "The victor!" Cheers met Lucia's ears. All she truly noticed were the looks of pride from her family.

It was day's end. The last of the fights were completed, any injuries tended to. Lucia and Hroar stood with a number of other orc youths that had been deemed worthy. Lucia was surprised to see they hadn't just chosen those who won their matches, but any who displayed a level of skill and strength. She was secretly pleased to see Grilkr didn't count among their number.

Mauhulakh stepped before the gathered group. "Malacath has witnessed your strength, and your elders have judged you as worthy to join them. I call forth your kin, to mark you as members of their clans."

Breskan followed the cue, stepping around to the front of his children, holding the small jar from earlier. He dipped a finger in, and traced out his design on Hroar's face, smiling as he did so. He then moved in front of Lucia and did the same, smiling at her. She returned the gesture. As he finished, he put the jar away and stood behind his children, placing a hand on their shoulders.

Mauhulakh spoke again. "Kinsmen, introduce our newest to us, so all may know them!"

The adults went down the line, introducing each of their children in turn. When it got to Hroar, Breskan spoke. "This is Hroar, who shall be known as Sivaas. This is Lucia, who shall be known as Strun." Lucia tried her best to keep her tears of pride controlled. She looked over her shoulder. Pa wasn't bothering to hide his.

That evening, as they started their journey back, Lucia was struck by curiosity again. "Hey Pa?"

Breskan looked to his daughter. "Hm?"

"For Hroar and I, our blood-kin names. What do they mean?"

Breskan chuckled. "Sivaas and Strun? They meant 'Beast' and 'Storm'. We thought they'd be appropriate for you two."

Lucia looked towards Hroar, sharing a smile. "Fuzzball."

"Sparky."