I don't own anything except the OC and the plot.

1

The guards on the hills shouted their greetings over the valley as several people came in sight. Cathal and the other ran towards them but Aoife fell behind. Anxiety clenched her heart. What if she didn't recognize him? What if he didn't recognize her? They hadn't seen each other in so many years; she had been a little girl when he was taken to the mine.

She slowly approached the crowd. Cathal was speaking to an old man in a roughspun tunic, but their voices were low and she couldn't make out the words they exchanged. His face was faintly familiar, like a memory of a dream that one tried to hold on to. The years showed in his features; in her mind he had always been the man from her memory, strong and invincible like the image every child has of their father. Despite his advanced age, Madanach still radiated the aura of the man that had conquered Markarth for his people.

The old man nodded grimly and lifted his head to look over the people surrounding him. His eyes searched the faces for a familiar one and he nodded at a few he recognized.

"Where's..." He stopped. Through the bodies his eyes found hers. Aoife's heart pounded as if it would burst.

"Father.."

"Aoife..", he breathed. She felt tears well up in her eyes and pushed through the others. With a sob she threw herself into his arms.

Her sobs were muffled by the fabric of his tunic but neither of them was in need for many words right now. They didn't pay attention to Cathal dispersing the crowd, giving orders to bring the new arrivals inside and see to their needs.

Her father pushed her away gently to look at her. "You've grown so much, child."

"It's been many years." Her voice was hoarse and she didn't bother to wipe away the tears that still ran down her cheeks.

"Too many", he agreed and caught a tear on her chin with his thumb. His eyes fell on her neck and he briefly touched the necklace there. "I see you received my letters."

Aoife smiled shakily and raised her hand to the pendant. He had send her the gift a few years ago. The simple leather strand held a small bird skull with glowing red stones in its eye sockets. She held it dear since her most vivid memory of him was how he had taken her along to hunt rock warblers and she had no doubts that he, too, remembered it.

Madanach suddenly brushed his waist and her eyes followed the movement. Blood stained his tunic. "You're hurt!"

"It's just superficial", he reassured her.

Aofie furrowed her brow with worry. "And the Nords are just visiting the Reach for a neighbourly chat. This needs to be cleaned. We should go inside."

He chuckled as he followed her to the entrance of the cave. "You sound so much like your mother."

They crossed the small stream behind the entrance and Aoife saw him looking around in awe. She hoped he was pleased with what they had made of the camp. It wasn't a fort like Deepwood Redoubt, but it provided everything they needed. Aoife didn't remember much of the time before her tribe had moved here. Cathal had told her stories about the time before, how they'd lived in the mountains in camps much larger than this and even of the short time they had lived in Markarth after they had seized control there. He rarely spoke of the time they were driven out of the city – too many bad memories Aoife presumed – but since that time their numbers had decreased so much that the cave of Druadach Redoubt was enough for all of them. Even with the newcomers they would have enough room for everyone.

The young woman looked over her people as they tended to the wounds of the ones harmed in their escape. The busyness on the upmost tier came to a halt as they approached. Many eyes rested on the man in rags. Aoife smiled at him before adressing the crowd.

"The king has returned to us. May he lead us to times when we can walk freely on our ancestral land again."

Some people cheered, others nodded in agreement.

"Hail to Madanach! Hail to the King of the Reach!"

Aoife went to bed late that evening. It took a few hours to get everybody comfortable, fed and receive medical attention. Fortunately most wounds were merely superficial like Madanach's, but the one a man named Braig had on his leg worried her deeply. The fellow Reachman had been cut severly by Markarth's guards. The time in prison and his age had made him too slow to dodge. It was a mystery how he had managed to run all the way to their hideout but after the rush of their escape had ceased, his condition worsened by the hour. She feared that in the morning they would find him dead.

Once she got up, her eyes immediately looked to Braig's bedroll. With relief she saw the shallow raising of his chest, not as strong as she wished it to be but it had to do. Kaie was kneeling by his side and dabbing a wet cloth on his forehead while Madanach stood nearby with crossed arms.

Both of them looked concerned as Aoife approached. "How is he?", she asked quietly and knelt next to the other woman.

"He's fading. I fear we're loosing him."

"Why can't we heal him?", Madanach asked. His voice was gravely.

Kaie looked up to him with weary eyes. "I don't know how. His wound is too deep for a simple healing spell. None of us is skilled in Restoration and the potions we have are too weak or too few."

"We could get stronger potions", Aoife interposed.

Kaie pursed her lips. "I told you a thousand times that you shouldn't go there."

"Yes, but - "

"Your daughter thinks it's wise to trade with the Orc stronghold up north."

Madanach furrowed his brows but Aoife spoke before he could. "Only because I don't like to live solely on meat and potatoes. We're accepting their hunters in the Reach and don't attack them as long as they don't attack us. And most importantly right now...", she added quickly as Kaie opened her mouth. "...they have an alchemist."

"They're still strangers living on our lands!"

"But right now we can't make them leave – why not make the best of it?"

"Don't you want to tell your father the reasons to trade with Karthwasten as well?"

Aoife blushed. "Do you want to make mead now?", she shot back. Kaie wasn't much older than her but often took her role in the tribe way more serious. The fact that she had been selected to meet up with Madanach in Markarth, hadn't helped with that either. The two woman had grown up together and their relationship was mostly sisterly with all the fights that brought along.

Aoife honored the traditions of her people and pursued their goal – the independence of the Reach under Forsworn rule – like everybody else, but had always suggested a more strategic approach. But something like that didn't gain a lot of acceptance from the tribes scattered across the land. She hoped that with the arrival of her father, things would change.

"We will talk about Karthwasten later", Madanach interrupted the arguing women with a stern look. "You mentioned an alchemist?", he asked.

His daughter nodded. "Their wise woman. She will have the potions we need. I can be back before sunset if I leave immediately."

"Very well", Madanach said. He looked around the cave like he searched for something. "Borkul will accompany you."

"I don't need a babysitter." She frowned. Borkul was the Orsimer who had escaped prison with the others. She hadn't spoken to him yesterday since he wasn't wounded and she wasn't sure why he was here in the first place. Apparently he had acted as some sort of bodyguard for her father.

"This is not a discussion, daughter. I want you to take him along, it will ease my mind."

Fifteen minutes later Aoife found herself outside of Druadach Redoubt. The sun shone on the green hills around her and the river in front of the cave sparkled in the light. It was a lovely day to go outside – if it wasn't for the seriousness of her task.

In her backpack were several soul gems – filled, of course. They were the only goods she could offer that the Orcs seemed interested in. Luckily the Forsworn were much more gifted in arcane arts than the Orcs, who nevertheless practiced the enchanting of their weapons but usually lacked the soul gems to do so. It was quite time-consuming to get them, though. No one in Aoife's clan was able to trap souls and so she had to travel to the neighboring one at Deepwood Redoubt to obtain them. Fortunately she had a few left from her last trip.

Steps behind her let her turn around. The Orc was approaching her and with a frown she saw that someone had equipped him with a full set of Forsworn armor. What were they thinking? This armor was meant for her people and only them. He noticed her frown but met her eyes stoically.

Aoife didn't greet him and instead she turned around to walk down the path through the camp. She heard him following her and only looked over her shoulder as they reached the river.

"We can cross further down", she said trying to keep her voice neutral and pointed down the path. She was still angry that Madanach had assigned him to accompany her, like she didn't know the land better than he did. There were no obstacles in the Reach she couldn't face on her own.

Borkul looked over the river banks. "Why not here? I thought we're in a hurry." His voice was deep and more pleasant than she had expected.

"Oh cross here if you like", she said with a sarcastic smile. "And I will pick you up downriver after the first or second waterfall."

Aofie turned away and walked down the path that would lead her to a more shallow part of the river. Behind her back the Orc chuckled. "Alright, lead the way, princess. I will just follow behind – and enjoy the view."

Did he just...? She wasn't sure if she got that right. With an angry look she turned around, only to find him looking innocently at the hills surrounding them.

He looked at her with mocking eyes and gave her a toothy smile. His large tusks unsettled her. "I've spent twelve years underground, I'm just glad to see the sun."

She didn't know what to reply without implying that she might had misinterpreted his words and so she continued her path. They passed a waterfall before the river was finally flowing slower. All the way she thought she felt his eyes on her back and she tried to ignore the uncomfortableness it caused in her stomach. It was probably her imagination playing tricks on her.

The water was merely knee-deep at this spot. Nevertheless it was freezing and it didn't take long until the fur in her boots was soaked. Behind her Borkul followed her into the water without hesitation and he was much faster since he was taller than her. As Aoife reached the other side, he had caught up to her.

"The stronghold's on the other side of these hills", she explained. "We should reach it by noon."

"I haven't been to a stronghold in – I don't know – 20 years?" They climbed up the hillside.

"Why not? They're your people, aren't they?", she asked more for the sake of talking than actual interest. The thought of them walking the whole distance in silence while she felt his gaze upon her made her uneasy.

He looked at her with sinister eyes. "They may be Orcs but they are not my people."

Aoife halted to hold his gaze. "And you think we are?", she asked with a short humourless laugh. Borkul looked at her mildly surprised as he stopped in his tracks. Standing higher up the hill, Aoife was glad she didn't have to look up to him right now. His huge figure was more intimidating than she liked to admit.

"You're not a Reachman. This isn't the right place for you."

"Madanach thinks otherwise." She heard the anger he tried to suppress as he passed her by to continue their way uphill. This time it was her who had to follow him. "And right now my place is here, guarding your ungrateful ass."

"You can just go back to the camp. I don't need your help."

"I take orders from Madanach, not from you, princess."

"Could you.. stop calling me that?", Aoife asked annoyed.

He furrowed his brows, the white warpaint against his green skin increased the effect. "Madanach's king. You're his daughter. Simple as that."

Aoife huffed. "We don't work like that."

"Then how do you work?"

She hesitated. He seemed genuinely interested. Considering he had spent the last decade underground, her father and his comrades probably hadn't spoken about the way of the Forsworn despite their war. And nevertheless he had decided to join them.

"My father is king because of his actions. He reclaimed Markarth and therefore he had the right to claim the title. We don't inherit honor. I must gain my own reputation."

The Orc turned around in disbelief. "You want me to believe that no one sees you as the king's daughter?"

"Maybe my tribe does. With the others... it's not that easy", she said quietly as she passed him to reach the top of the hill. From here on their way would be easier.

They didn't speak after this for a long time and Borkul was fine with that. When Madanach had asked him to accompany his daughter to Mor Khazgur, he had agreed in a heartbeat. Though the cave was way more welcoming than Cidhna Mine, he craved the touch of the sun. The fight in Markarth and the following run through the hills had made him feel more alive than he had felt in years.

He knew that the euphoric feeling wouldn't last forever, but after all these years below ground, he couldn't get enough of the fresh air surrounding him. Even the scowling woman wouldn't damp his spirits right now.

Borkul watched her as she walked before him. The armor of the Forsworn was something he had to get used to; not that it was uncomfortable in any way but it was more revealing than the clothes of a common whore – but he would rather bite his tongue off than say that to any of the Reachmen. Besides, there were worse things than a half naked woman leading him through a bright green valley. In the last few years there had only been male prisoners in Cidhna Mine and so his eyes greedily drank in the sight of her body as well as the sunlit nature around her. Neither the fact that Aoife acted like a sulking child nor that she was Madanach's daughter and therefore no fair game, was reason enough not to watch her movements.

When she stopped, he raised his eyes. Mor Khazgur was in view, leaning against a mountainside surrounded by a palisade. Borkul saw the longhouse in it's center which served as a residence for all Orcs living in the stronghold. They only had to cross a grassy plain to reach it, but Aoife's eyes were focused to the east. He darted her a questioning glance which she answered with pointing towards the snowy foot of the mountain chain. It took a few moments until he saw the movement there. Three figures were making their way away from them and up into the mountains.

Aoife snorted disapprovingly. "Nord hunters."

Borkul was mildly impressed that she was able to make that out over the distance but he didn't doubt that she was right. "Are there many in the Reach?"

"Not as many as there used to be. Most of them avoid our lands by now, we made sure of that", she answered darkly.

He watched the hunters disappear behind a cliff. It was tempting to hunt them down. "Well, we can't go after them now, can we?"

"No", the young woman agreed. "But it doesn't matter. They'll pass Deepwood Redoubt."

"That's another settlement?"

She nodded and reluctantly tore her eyes away from the mountains. "It's bigger than ours. Much bigger. They will regret taking that path, the matriach will feast on their hearts."

He didn't answer right away. Many aspects of the Forsworn society were still new to him. Yes, he had sworn loyalty to Madanach but the king in rags had never talked about what his people's way was in detail. Borkul knew that the hagravens were a part of this society but he didn't know how big their impact was – if Aoife called them matriach, their influence was apparently bigger than he had thought.

Borkul opened his mouth but she spoke before he could. "We probably should be going."

The sun had nearly reached its highest point and she knew that the others waited impatiently for their return. They made their way over the plain and it didn't take long until they arrived at the wooden gates of Mor Khazgur. A heavy armored female guard waited for them at the gates. The Orc's eyes wandered from Aoife to Borkul and back, but she was confused she didn't let it show. Aoife recognized the woman from her previous visits and as expected she got straight to the point.

"Greetings, Forsworn. You're here to trade?"

"I am, but not for the usual wares. I need to see your shama-..I mean wise woman."

The Orc nodded slowly and again her eyes darted over to Borkul who watched the scene in silence.

"Of course. I'll take you to my mother then."

They followed her inside the stronghold, passed the patch where they grew their vegetables and were led to a small wooden shelter where an old woman in dark robes worked on an alchemy table. The guard left them to patrol the walls again and before Aoife could step towards the wise woman, she heard another voice behind them.

"Who needs my mothers assistance? I'm not familiar with your face, Orc. Tell me your name." The bare-chested Orc came over from the longhouse. Aoife knew he was the leader – the chief – and had never bothered to speak to her before.

Borkul looked at him to seize him up before he answered. He didn't seemed to be impressed. "Name's Borkul."

"Borkul", the chief repeated. "Just Borkul?"

Aoife felt a lot of hidden meanings behind that seemingly innocent question but she wasn't sure what he was aiming at.

Borkul nodded briefly and seemed to tense up. Gladly the old Orc woman had stopped at whatever potion she was making and turned her attention to them. "You wish to trade?"

Aoife threw a last glance at the two men staring at each other before she looked to the alchemist. "I do. I need the strongest healing potion you have or can make. I have soul gems to pay you." She opened her backpack to show her the stones and the old woman looked pleased.

"I have a few available right away if you're in a hurry. Or I can make you a stronger one, but that will take a moment. Your choice."

The Forsworn woman looked over the potions on the shelf. She was no alchemist but they seemed to be of mediocre quality and Braig needed more than that. "We are indeed in a hurry, but I think we have a moment to wait for a stronger one."

"Very well", the old Orsimer nodded. "I'll get to work then. You're allowed to walk around while you wait. Don't exploit our hospitality, Forsworn."

Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to prepare. Aoife turned back around and saw that the chief had returned to his seat next to the longhouse while Borkul still eyed his surroundings warily. In front of the longhouse was a young Orsimer woman hitting at a training dummy. Between hits her eyes looked over to them curiously but she didn't approach. Aoife wasn't in the mood for exploring the stronghold, something that she'd loved to do were the circumstances different, and so she simply stood next to Borkul who had crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked uncomfortable and she couldn't help but think of what he had said before. These indeed weren't his people.

"What did the chief mean?", she asked quietly so no one could overhear them.

"About my name?" He tore his eyes away from the longhouse and looked at her. Aoife nodded.

"Orsimer usually carry a surname when they're not home. Either as indication of the stronghold they're from or the name of their parents or some sort of title."

She thought about it for a moment. The concept of a surname was strange to her; her people didn't do something like that. The tribal Forsworn mentality made every member family and so there was no need for surnames. "And you don't have any of these?"

Borkul watched her face for a moment, unsure if she really wanted to know. "I didn't grow up in a stronghold. I grew up in the bandit camp where my parents lived. They were killed when I was seven, so no use in carrying their name."

He watched her reaction and seemed pleased that she didn't show pity, there was no need for it. "I do have a byname, though. People usually call me..."

"...the Beast. Yes, I've heard Duach mention that one."

He chuckled softly. "I don't think that's something this honorable chief needs to know."

"How did you get that name?", she asked before she could stop herself. She hadn't meant this conversation to become this light because she was still a bit mad that her father ordered the Orc to accompany her but her curiousity was stronger than her anger.

"Another time, princess", he said with a full smile, giving her a perfect view of his terrifying teeth. "That story might involve some biting."

Aoife wasn't sure if he was joking and his face didn't reveal anything but before she could insist on the matter, the old woman behind them spoke again.

"There you go, the strongest healing potion you will find in the Reach."

With a sigh of relief, she turned around. "Then these are yours." The soul gems changed hands and Aoife pocketed the bright red potion.

They left the stronghold in a hurry. Now that they had the required potion, the urge to get back to Druadach Redoubt was stronger than ever.

The shadows of the trees were already growing longer from the slowly setting sun when they reached the last hillside that would lead down to the river. Aoife sped up, ignoring the cold water that splashed up her thighs and ran the last bit up the path to the encampment. The two archers guarding the entrance greeted her briefly as she rushed by. The tunnel led her down into the cave as she hastily pulled the bottle out of her backpack.

The cave was oddly quiet; normally at least the sound of Cathal hammering at the forge sounded through the settlement. Kaie came towards her just beside the small field of potatoes on the first ledge.

"Aoife, you're back..You.."

"Where is he?"

"You should go up, he's..", Kaie started but Aoife had already passed her.

She found the rest of her people on the upmost part near the fire. Some turned around as she approached and made way. Behind them she saw the bedroll Braig had been placed on. Madanach kneeled at his side with a hand on his chest. His daughter stopped a few steps away and he looked up. The old man's eyes were serious and he simply shook his head.

"I.. is he.. he's dead? I'm too.. late?" She didn't want to believe it.

"He passed away about half an hour ago."

Half an hour! Aoife clenched her fist around the bottle. She was too late – by half an hour! Petrified she kept staring at the lifeless body of the old man. If she had chosen to get the weaker potions instead of waiting for the alchemist to make one, she would have made it in time. Anger rose inside her and her hand clenched tighter around the bottle. Looking at the potion in her hand she suddenly wanted to shatter it against the cave walls. A firm hand prised the bottle of her fingers. Borkul, who apparently had followed her haste, stood beside her and shook his head.

Aoife felt the eyes of the others around her and her anger grew. Everything had been completely in vain! She turned and stormed out of the cave. She definitely had to hit something with her sword – and right now it didn't matter if it was a Nord or a tree.

A/N: Can't help it, I love the Forsworn. And I love Borkul, I always end up taking him along (thank the divines for console commands). But apparently the majority here doesn't, because he doesn't even have a character tag and the support ignores my messages. So if you like him too, feel free to annoy the support for me and leave me a review so I don't feel like a weirdo ;)