Summary: In which our heroes realise that fighting vampires can sometimes have... consequences. Meanwhile, over in Mor Khazgur, Borgakh the Steel Heart discovers that there's a world outside the stronghold, and she's got allies she never imagined.
Why yes, that is a potential Kaie/Borgakh femslash ship in the works.
"Brother!"
Athis opened his eyes, groaning in the far too bright sunlight.
"What?" Athis muttered. "What do you want... ow my head."
"Brother, wake up!" Cicero hissed. "There is a Thalmor fort not five minutes from here, we cannot linger! And we should be gone by sunset before they decide to chase us!"
"Right," Athis whispered, letting Cicero help him up. He saw the logic, he really did, but his head was fuzzy, he was tired, thirsty, it was too bright, and the last thing he wanted to do was move. "Inna second, Sis'ro."
"No," Cicero snapped. "We need to move now. Come ON, brother! Do not make Cicero change forms and carry you."
Perish the thought. Athis shuddered at the mere idea of being dragged along by a werewolf – a werewolf! Cicero was a werewolf. Who the fuck thought that had been a good idea, and how long had he been one? Athis didn't know but he knew he badly needed to talk to Eola. In the meantime, best to just stay close to Cicero until they got back to Dragon Bridge where they could rest before going home.
If he could keep his eyes open long enough to get there... So Athis trailed after Cicero, remained alert enough to help kill a few wolves but didn't bother trying to hold down a conversation despite Cicero's babbling. Athis just closed his eyes against the too-bright sunlight and kept walking, idly wondering why if there was so much snow on the ground, it wasn't colder, and since when had snow been red, why was the sky red, why was everything...
Cicero turned round just in time to see Athis slump to the ground, and ran back, shrieking at his Shield-Brother to get up, get up, oh why didn't you tell poor Cicero earlier that you were ill, Cicero could have taken you to a healer or a priest, oh Athis, Athis, open your eyes, talk to your poor brother, you are not allowed to die, Athis! Athis? ATHIS!
Cicero shook the prone Dunmer frantically, realising just how cold his skin had got and that he couldn't feel a pulse and that Athis wasn't breathing, oh Sithis no, Athis wasn't breathing, now how did this hitting the chest until they started breathing again thing work?
Mercifully Cicero's pitifully vague memories of resuscitation techniques weren't required. Athis's eyes flicked open as he gasped for air that, had he realised it, he no longer needed. But Cicero knew. Cicero could tell his brother wasn't alive any more. He couldn't hear the heartbeat, or at least, it wasn't thudding like it used to. He couldn't hear breathing, not at the right rate anyway. And perhaps more importantly, Athis's eye weren't red any more. His skin was pale grey not dark grey and his eyes glowed gold.
By Sithis. This was very very bad.
"Athis?" Cicero cooed nervously. "Athis, how are you feeling?"
"Hungry," came the response. "Sort of. Don't know what for though. Fuck me, it's bright out here, feels like my skin's boiling up." Athis blinked and saw for the first time the worry on Cicero's face. "Cicero, what... what just happened? I don't remember what happened after we left the castle..."
"You were very dopey and confused," Cicero admitted. "Cicero wondered if you were ill, but you insisted you were well, so Cicero did not press matters – oh Cicero knew, he knew all was not well! He should have pressed harder, taken you to a priest, anything! Anything at all, before it was too late!"
"Too late – what in the Void are you talking about – ow!" Athis hadn't realised he had fangs yet and had managed to bite his lip. Swearing, he licked the blood up... before realising it tasted different, and then he inhaled and actually flinched back from Cicero.
"Fucking Daedra, Cicero, when did you start smelling of dog?"
"That is the beast blood, brother, and you could not smell it before," Cicero whispered, looking and feeling utterly wretched, but it was best Athis know sooner rather than later. "Athis, you have been feeling ill since Dimhollow, haven't you?"
"Yeah," Athis admitted. "But it was fine, nothing really, I was just tired, but I feel fine now, or I would if it wasn't so hot!"
"IT IS NOT HOT, IT IS BARELY ABOVE FREEZING!" Cicero shrieked. "AND IT WAS NOT NOTHING, BROTHER, YOU CAUGHT SANGUINARE VAMPIRIS OFF ONE OF THE FIENDS, DID NOT GET IT TREATED AND NOW LOOK AT YOU!"
Athis had raised a hand to his mouth, feeling unfamiliar fangs, then feeling his face and realising that while he felt warm inside, his skin was cold to the touch, and paler than he remembered, and slowly Athis realised what had been wrong with him for the last couple of days. Tired during the day, weaker than normal, thirsty at night for something he couldn't describe... by Azura.
"Cicero," Athis croaked, wishing Cicero would say something, do something, ANYTHING other than just stare wretchedly at him. Because that meant it was true, didn't it? It meant he'd refused Harkon's offer only to turn into a monster anyway.
"Cicero, am I a vampire?" Athis finally asked, and Cicero lowered his head and nodded.
"Yes," Cicero whispered. "Oh brother, brother, do not fear, Cicero will help, Cicero will take care of you, it will be all right!"
"How can it be?" Athis yelled, staggering to his feet. "I just turned into a blood-drinking creature of the night, an abomination against the natural order, and you tell me it's going to be all right? There's no cure for vampirism!"
"There might be!" Cicero protested. "Kodlak did not think there was a cure for lycanthropy but it turned out there was! Maybe there is one for vampires too!"
"And if there isn't?" Athis cried. "What if I'm stuck like this forever? I can't go back to Jorrvaskr like this! I can't go anywhere! Where the actual fuck can I go that doesn't treat vampires like a plague to be purged?"
A gentle touch on Athis's arm from Cicero, and Athis looked up to see the little fool was actually looking thoughtful.
"There is somewhere, brother," Cicero said gently. "It is not even far. There is a country where vampires are not persecuted and consensual blood-drinking is permitted, and there is even a blood donation programme for those who have a medical condition that requires regular infusions of blood."
"What?" Athis demanded. "What are you talking about, what sort of messed-up country would legalise all that... oh no. No, you are kidding, aren't you."
"I would not jest about things like that!" Cicero protested. "We are barely ten miles from Hag's End, Matriarch Keirine will be happy to help!"
"Fuck no, after the whole Moira thing, I'm not asking them for help!" Athis insisted. "I'd rather die-!"
"Do not tempt me!" Cicero snarled, covering the ground between them before Athis even registered he'd moved, hands fisting into Athis's new vampire armour – well, at least he was properly attired. "As it is, Eola would be very unhappy if you died or disappeared. Eola would be very upset and Cicero would have to console her. Cicero doesn't like seeing his sweetling unhappy. So you are coming with him to Hag's End where we will meet Matriarch Keirine and find out what can be done! Cicero is NOT taking no for an answer!"
Everything in Athis wanted to scream no. Everything in him wanted to run far far away from the Reach Kingdom and its Hagraven elders. Everyone knew Daedra worship was legal there, everyone knew cannibalism was only a civil offence there not a criminal one as long as you'd only found the corpse not killed it, and the deceased didn't have kin to complain, and that unless you registered an opt-out with Understone Keep, your remains on death were likely to be harvested for any organ worth using so that they could be transplanted into people with failing organs. No one, absolutely no one, with any sense of sanity or decency would want to live there. Despite Deepwood Vale being home to a sizeable Dunmer population who'd decided life under Madanach during his brief tenure as Jarl of Windhelm was better than any Nord ruler.
But try as he might, Athis couldn't think of anywhere else that would help a newly-turned vampire, and he knew he couldn't go home now.
"She'll tell Eola, won't she," Athis whispered, feeling his heart breaking as he tried to imagine Eola's reaction to finding out her boyfriend of not even a year yet was now an undead blood-drinker. Cicero nodded sadly.
"She likely will, yes," Cicero admitted. "Cicero thinks all vampires in the Reach have to register with the Mournful Throne, and Madanach will notice if a Companion of Jorrvaskr's name appears."
Well, that was that then, he might as well say goodbye to his relationship now. Memories of sitting up near the Skyforge with Eola, watching the stars with her, quietly obsessing about her and wondering if he was imagining the way she kept smiling and edging closer and touching his arm... and then that time he'd gone to Mzinchaleft to fetch Mjoll the Lioness's sword back and Eola had insisted on going with him and they'd got lost three times, ended up camping... and ended up kissing. That had been when Eola had quietly explained she and Cicero weren't exactly monogamous and that Cicero had a bit of a penchant for big burly men which she let him indulge on the quiet and in return she and Cicero had agreed she'd be able to take a lover if she liked, and Cicero approved of Athis. They'd returned to Jorrvaskr, and sure enough, Cicero had cooed, declared Athis his brother, and cheerfully vacated the Harbinger's room when Athis was in there, and even went so far as to bring them both breakfast in the morning. It had been very disconcerting, as had the upswing in cuddling and calling him dearest, sweetest Athis. But it had been worth it to have someone in his bed again, and more importantly, someone to fight alongside, whose magic could beat down enemies while he carved them up, and she wasn't bad with a sword either. It was thanks to her encouragement that he'd started learning and using magic again, life in Skyrim having previously convinced him that fire-wielding elves weren't exactly welcome here, and it had been like rediscovering he had two arms after all when he'd previously thought only one worked. It had been like coming home. She'd been like coming home. And now he'd probably lost her for good.
"Will you tell her I'm sorry," Athis said softly, turning away. "I'll write the letter if you want, just tell her I'm so sorry. I hope she'll find it in her to understand some day."
"Understand... sorry for what?" Cicero said, scratching his head. "It is not your fault you were infected!"
"That hardly matters, does it?" Athis cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I just turned, and she's not going to want a bloodsucking monster who's going to have to subsist by sinking his teeth into other people's flesh in her bed, is she?"
Not a word from Cicero, and Athis glanced over his shoulder to see Cicero opening his mouth as if to say something and then closing it again, grinning as if at some secret only he knew, before skipping over and patting Athis gently on the shoulder.
"Cicero thinks you do not give Eola enough credit," Cicero said gently. "Cicero thinks her attachment to you is strong and that she will cope with the news better than you think. Cicero also knows she is a witch of the Reach, and they are not easily repulsed by anything. Athis, dear Athis, Cicero will tell her for you if you feel you cannot go to Jorrvaskr yourself, Cicero will return home and fetch our beloved so you may speak in person... but you should not act as if she has already rejected you when she does not even know."
Athis wanted to believe him, but surely it was only a matter of time by this point. Still, Cicero knew Eola well, and Cicero's eyes were staring earnestly up at him. It was hard to stand there and disagree to Cicero's face.
"All right then," Athis sighed. "We'll do this your way. We'll go to Hag's End, throw ourselves on Matriarch Keirine's mercy and see if she can help. And then you can go back to Jorrvaskr, tell Eola what's happened and... and bring her to me, if she's still willing to talk to me." Athis couldn't avoid his voice breaking a little as he said the words, and he couldn't find it in him to shove Cicero away as the little jester snuggled up to him.
"She will want to," Cicero murmured. "She will be worried. Come, come, let us be moving. The sunlight cannot be good for you. Let us go quickly! Hag's End is not far now."
Mor Khazgur stronghold fell silent as the visitors faced off against their chief. Quite honestly Chief Larak would have preferred to bar the gates and keep them out, but, thanks to his son in exile, their ultimate leader was now Blood Kin.
That, and he wasn't entirely certain they wouldn't have just blasted the doors off if he'd said no.
Which meant he was face to face with an entire platoon of ReachGuard warriors, swathed in their fur and bone armour, and it might all look primitive but the witchmen weren't pushovers. Which was the sole and only reason he was putting up with this blue-haired witch's attitude. Blue hair, for goodness' sake. What sort of man let his daughter dye her hair that ridiculous shade? Hair should not match the sky.
"Chief Larak," Reach-Princess Kaie ap Madanach, Heir to the Mournful Throne, greeted him. "Thank you for agreeing to see us."
"Don't get too far ahead of yourself, witch," Larak growled. "Your father's Blood Kin and I have to respect that. But you're not. You're here on sufferance. Unless your father's decided to do as an Orc should and marry you off to a stronger chief."
Kaie's silver-blue eyes flared and lightning crackled at her fingertips, but her temper was easier kept than her father's and no magic got out of control.
"Queen Elisif's already married," Kaie purred. "And other than her, my father's yet to find one. Sadly, you'll have to be content with the wives you have. Although you're not far off the mark. The King of the Reach is more interested in what you have to offer him. He is the stronger chief after all."
Larak got to his feet, growling. Maybe it was true, maybe King Madanach commanded the allegiance of all the Reachman strongholds and the wealth of the mines. But he didn't command Larak, not yet, and this blue-haired freak had some nerve coming into his stronghold and insulting him.
"You be glad you're not a man or I'd be calling you out for that, witch," Larak snarled. "As it is, your father will be hearing about this! We aren't even in the Reach anyway, this is Nord land. You shouldn't even be here in force."
"You pay your taxes to Solitude, do you?" Kaie laughed derisively. "That's not what I heard. You don't honestly think Jarl Elisif's going to ride to your defence, do you? You don't recognise her authority or Imperial authority and the only reason your little settlement is still even standing is because it's not worth the bother of destroying!" Kaie stepped forward, glaring at Larak and not fazed despite the foot of height he had on her. "Don't give me a reason."
"Your father sends a woman to negotiate and thinks he's not given me a reason to fight already?" Larak snarled, this close to done with her. But he wasn't that hot-headed for an Orc chief and he did have the tribe to think of. "Pah. State your business, witch. Let's hear what the Reach-King wants."
Kaie smiled, eyes glittering in the sunlight.
"You have a daughter, don't you. Borgakh, known as the Steel Heart. Newly of age, promised in marriage to another stronghold leader, due to leave soon, yes?"
Borgakh had stepped forward on hearing her name mentioned. Yes, she was of age now, yes they were sending her to wed Yamarz of Largashbur, and yes she would do her duty... but that didn't mean she liked the idea. To hear her name mentioned by the Reachfolk visitors, by King Madanach's heir no less... this was unexpected.
They didn't look like much. Humans, not even that big for humans, and that armour wouldn't hold up to much. But they did dress like warriors at least, and most of them had tattoos on their skin and bone piercings in their soft tissues, and Borgakh knew they were called the witchmen for a reason. Who knew what magic they had at their command. Especially Kaie, standing in the middle of them all, and her armour wasn't fur at all, it was a black leather skirt, top to match, black straps everywhere, black fur lining and gold plated bones and chain links holding it together. Then there were the finely beaten gold feathers adorning the shoulder. Fragile, princely, enchanted. The mark of the heir to a kingdom with coin to spare, and all of it topped off with hair dyed the same shade of blue as the summer sky, braids hanging down the side of her face but the sides shaved close to the scalp. And she was staring down Borgakh's father as if she thought she was his equal – no, his superior. Other than the wise woman, Borgakh had never seen any woman stare down an Orc male like that, still less a chief, and she'd never seen warriors, including men as well as women, falling into line behind a woman before. This Kaie, she had power, probably more strength and power than any Orc chieftain.
It made Borgakh wonder why she couldn't marry Kaie.
"What in Oblivion has my daughter got to do with this?" Larak growled. "She's betrothed to Chief Yamarz of Largashbur, they need capable warriors to help see off giants in the region. Madanach can't have her."
"Madanach doesn't need another wife, he already has one and she can breathe fire," Kaie snapped. "And as for her betrothal, it's too late. Yamarz is dead. He let giants defile Malacath's shrine, and Malacath declared him unworthy. Now he's dead, and if you want to send Borgakh to Largashbur, you'll need to renegotiate her dowry with the new chief. Personally, I wouldn't bother. I'm making you a better offer."
Dead? Yamarz was dead? She wasn't going to Largashbur after all? Borgakh could have cried with relief, but she was an Orc and such weakness was beneath her. So where did this leave her? Here, she supposed, until a new agreement could be reached and a new husband found. Unless of course, her father actually accepted the Reachkin offer. Borgakh held her breath, wondering what it was. Her services, but not as Madanach's forgewife. Interesting.
"Yamarz is dead?" Larak gasped, before shrugging the loss off. "Eh. He was weak. If it's Malacath's will, so be it. But I'm not just handing over my daughter to the Reach-King for nothing. He pays bride-price like any other man. Whether he claims husband's rights is up to him. I'd think him weak if he didn't... but I also know that first wives get a say in this sort of thing and his first wife's hardly weak. I'm guessing someone who killed a dragon-god doesn't have to submit to her husband like some other wife."
Kaie smirked at that, laughing quietly to herself. "You presume correctly," she admitted. She stood aside and waved through two more warriors carrying a large chest of gold, jewels and weapons, much of it enchanted.
"Bride-price," Kaie announced. "Yours for Borgakh's hand. Also friendship between Mor Khazgur and the Mournful Throne. We send smiths here to learn crafting, you can send people to us to learn whatever we know and are able to teach. We'll buy your ore, your goods, you can buy ours. Sell your surplus goods to us and we'll make sure you never starve. How about it, Chief Larak?"
Larak hadn't stopped staring at the gold long enough to listen. It was a phenomenal amount, more than the bride-price Yamarz had offered. His eyes got even wider when Kaie added that the bride-price also included a pair of breeding goats.
"Sold," Larak agreed, actually deigning to shake Kaie's hand over it, and Kaie grinned in triumph.
"See, I knew we could come to a civilised arrangement," Kaie purred. "Now where's Borgakh."
Borgakh stepped forward in a daze as the goods were handed over, Reachmen carrying them to where her father directed.
"Greetings," Borgakh managed to get out. "I am Borgakh the Steel Heart. I heard what you said to my father. Am I really to wed the King?"
"You're to serve the Reach in whatever capacity King Madanach desires," Kaie said, smiling at her, and this was not the smile Kaie had given her father. This was a genuine, gentle smile, a kind one even. Whatever Kaie's motives were, Kaie clearly didn't see her solely as a trophy or child-bearer. "But we can discuss the details later. Come on, get your things. We're leaving."
Borgakh didn't think twice. She had a ticket out of here, didn't have to marry some grizzled old Orc chief she'd never met, and her family honour wasn't harmed. Today, Malacath was clearly smiling on her.
Business concluded, the Reachmen left, and after saying her goodbyes and promising to represent the stronghold with honour, Borgakh went with them, her few possessions packed. It was mostly just her armour, a couple of books, and the sword her brother had forged before the ill-fated challenge he'd made to their father and lost, leading to his exile. None of them had seen or heard from him since, although there was a rumour he'd taken up banditry and been imprisoned by the humans, and Borgakh had a suspicion her father knew more than he let on. That had been over ten, no, nearly fifteen years ago now though.
She wondered if it was worth asking Kaie if she could find him. But not yet. Not until she'd found out what they wanted with her.
"So I imagine you're wondering what this is all about, hmm?" Kaie said, not unkindly. Borgakh found she could only nod in response.
"Well, don't worry, you're not marrying my father," Kaie laughed. "We'll let your da think that if it makes him happy, but now you're not in Mor Khazgur, what's he going to do, eh?"
"So why do you need me, Reach-Princess?" Borgakh asked, glancing at the impassive warriors guarding them. "You have many skilled warriors at your disposal. Why me."
"Oh, several reasons," Kaie said calmly. "Firstly, my father has an Orc bodyguard and I wanted one. I'm heir to a powerful and wealthy kingdom, and if the Nords have their housecarls, I want one too. There's also the little matter of no one being more loyal than someone who owes you everything. Organising arranged marriages for one's children is hardly unusual for nobles, but there's a difference between vetting candidates and arranging introductions, and just selling your children to the highest bidder, don't you think?"
"It's the Code of Malacath," Borgakh shrugged. "It's guided our people well for centuries."
"Not all Orcs think so," Kaie replied, a rather cunning little smile on her face. "Markarth's full of Orcs who left their stronghold behind to seek a better life. Plenty of Orcs don't want to be some chief's wife, or don't agree with the way their chief runs things. You wouldn't be the first." A pause, and then Kaie turned to smile at her, a knowing, cunning smile that unsettled Borgakh deeply, and her next words nearly broke her. "Your brother didn't."
Borgakh felt the world come to a standstill as she realised her brother hadn't vanished into the Void after all. He was in the Reach somewhere and Kaie knew, had known all along, must have done. Why else come to Mor Khazgur and claim her specifically? Why else deal with Yamarz – because Borgakh had a feeling his death was no accident. Her brother, her only full sibling, hadn't cared about much in the stronghold, had hated his father... but he'd cared for his little sister, promising her that if this challenge worked, if he won, he'd be chief and Borgakh would never have to leave, ever. Of course, it hadn't and she'd lost her brother for good.
"What do you know about my brother?" Borgakh snarled. Kaie blinked and then smiled, raising a hand to quiet the ReachGuard warriors who'd all gone for weapons or raised spells.
"Easy," Kaie said gently. "We're not enemies. And your brother's fine, doing well in fact. Come on, we're nearly there."
There turned out to be a small camp consisting of a few tents grouped around a fire... and poking the fire was a male Orc in Orcish armour as good as hers if not better.
"Hey, Borkul!" Kaie called. "It worked! We got her! Turns out that for a chest of gold and a couple of goats, your Da's anyone's."
Borkul got to his feet, laughing. "Yeah, that figures. Two goats or one daughter? Larak's not gonna think twice. Kids are just commodities to him. Now, where's my little sister?"
Borgakh had stopped in her tracks, staring as she saw Borkul approach, familiar smile on his face, all easy strength and confidence, broader shoulders, a few scars, hair grown out a little but otherwise looking not that different. Like his younger self but stronger. Borgakh had a feeling that if he went home and challenged Larak now, he'd win easily.
"Borkul?" Borgakh whispered, and her brother nodded, smile softening.
"Yeah. Hello sis. No hug for your big brother?"
Borgakh had just been a little girl when she'd last seen him. He'd kissed her goodbye, gone out to fight their father, and when her father had survived and decided to kick Borkul out due to his youth rather than kill him, she didn't know whether to cry or be relieved. Her mother had hauled her away and roughly told her to forget about him, as of now she no longer had a brother. But it wasn't so easy.
Orcs weren't affectionate by nature, not once childhood was behind them. But Borgakh, thanks to Orc culture, had lost her brother young and hadn't thought she'd ever see him again. Now here he was, and it looked like he'd organised her freedom.
"Borkul, what have you done?" Borgakh whispered, rubbing at her cheek to get rid of the tears inconveniently rolling down her face. "Did you kill Yamarz? Arrange all this?"
Borkul nodded, looking extremely pleased with himself. "Yeah! Reach traders told me they were sending you to Largashbur so I wandered down there to, er, remonstrate with Yamarz. Original plan was to challenge him, take his tribe over and just wait for you to show up. But turned out Yamarz was having giant trouble due to pissing off Malacath. So I helped them out, accompanied Yamarz to help sort Malacath's shrine out, and Yamarz sadly didn't make it. Fetcher tried to pay me to do his work for him. Course I said no and killed him, then sorted the shrine out myself."
"Yourself?" Kaie queried. "I seem to recall you taking a team of ReachGuard with you, losing three good fighters in the process. Last time I send you to kill giants."
"What?" Borkul shrugged. "Deaths happen, I paid blood-price to the families, they died bravely, I got to return in triumph and we now have Largashbur's undying friendship. I got a personal thank you from Matriarch Keirine for putting her in touch with their wise woman."
"Yeah, I suppose," Kaie sighed. "Shame you didn't get made chief though."
"You're not chief?" Borgakh said, surprised. "But you killed Yamarz."
"Eh," Borkul muttered. "I told their wise woman Atub that the shrine was clear and she petitioned Malacath to unhex them. And he went and declared one of their warriors chief instead. Which wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but I can hardly challenge someone Malacath literally just picked over me, can I? But we did get an alliance for the Reach, a sweet warhammer, and an interesting story to take back to Larak regarding Largashbur's real situation. He didn't know about the curse from Malacath and he's a mercenary bastard. He'd want to renegotiate the bride-price if he knew. So we went back and went for plan B, which was Kaie here making Larak a better offer than Largashbur."
"Borkul, you idiot," Borgakh whispered. "You'll be indebted to them for life!"
Borkul shrugged, scuffing the ground with his boot.
"Worth it," he said quietly. "I'm not having that bastard just sell my little sister like she's a horse or something."
Borgakh couldn't speak. She didn't know how things worked among the Reachmen regarding such things, but she'd seen the gold. It surely wasn't Borkul's own, and she knew the Reachmen regarded their goats highly. They'd paid a high price for her. And all at her brother's instigation.
"You idiot," she whispered again, but she couldn't stop herself hugging him. He'd gone to all this trouble for her, still remembered after all these years. She really couldn't hold it against him.
Judging from the applauding Reachmen around her, it seemed they approved. Perhaps he wasn't quite as indebted as she'd thought. As Borkul let her go, she turned to face Kaie, who was smiling, tears in her eyes.
"He's been loyally serving my father for years, since they met in prison," Kaie explained. "Da made all of those who escaped with him into his blood brothers, which means you can ask at least one big favour off him for nothing."
"I didn't even ask him for all this, all I wanted was the chance to take over Largashbur," Borkul admitted, arm still round Borgakh. "When I told him why, he started organising all this on his own. Maybe he's a dangerous and violent man... but he's a sentimental bastard too. Apparently his sole condition was that he got to meet you after. So, er, that's where you're going. Understone Keep, via the portal at Hag's End. Hope that's not a problem."
"We can go overland if you'd prefer," Kaie added. "But we're definitely visiting Hag's End tonight. Congratulations, you get to meet the Reach's chief wise woman!"
Matriarch Keirine's name had reached even the ears of Orc tribesfolk. Borgakh shuddered a little, but all the same, she was intrigued. And even if Borkul wasn't indebted, Borgakh's sense of honour insisted she pay the Reachmen back.
"Wait. Reach-Princess. You said you wanted an Orc bodyguard like your father."
"That I did," Kaie admitted. "And the job is yours if you want it – don't think I didn't notice the first thing you looked for was your weapons. If you're anything like your brother, you're clearly a skilled warrior. But don't think you're obliged to take it."
"Oh I don't think so," Borgakh said, stepping away from her brother to face Kaie full on. "You paid the bride-price for me, that means you got me. I serve at your command, Reach-Princess." Borgakh saluted with a fist to her chest, lowering her head.
"Borgakh, wait, you're not seriously-" Borkul began, only for Borgakh to glare at him.
"Borkul, shut up," Borgakh snapped and Kaie actually laughed at the stunned look on Borkul's face at his little sister talking back to him.
"You're hired!" Kaie laughed, delighted. "As my bodyguard. Not my wife. I mean, not that you're not hot and all but I don't believe in paying people to marry me."
"Good luck finding a husband any other way," Borkul grunted, and Kaie's stony-faced glare could have killed a small animal.
"Need me to hit him, Princess?" Borgakh offered, feeling oddly protective of her new employer, even if she did feel a little disappointed at not actually getting a spouse out of this. All the same, all was not lost. Kaie had said she was hot, a compliment presumably. Borgakh, looking Kaie over, could say the same. Perhaps, if she was lucky, more might be on the cards one day.
"No, don't bother, on this occasion I think I can be merciful," Kaie said cheerfully. "He does it again, I think a word to my father would suffice. Da's sentimentality only goes so far."
Borkul protested but Kaie just grinned and started ordering people to break camp, it was Hag's End for them. Leaving Borgakh watching and realising the Reachmen, despite having traded with Orcs for centuries, couldn't be more different.