-Ch. 1-

As the morning sun crept through the curtains of Muiri's bedroom, her strapping young companion, Ozgar Gro-Shugurz, groaned and covered his eyes. The young half-orc spooned Muiri and buried his face in her mess of thick chestnut hair.

Muiri unconsciously smiled, and snuggled her plump rear into Ozgar, smiling satisfied to herself as she felt his morning hardness against her cheeks. Unfortunately, their lazy morning was cut short by a sharp "Muiri!" cutting through the air.

"Bothela." Muiri gasped, sitting straight up in bed. The two hopped out of bed and began frantically dressing. "Just a moment, master!" Muiri called out to the proprietor of the Hag's Cure.

Oz kept his sleepy eyes on Muiri as she bounced into her alchemist's robes. He could hardly focus on getting his breeches on, struggling to stuff his hard manhood inside.

Muiri smirked and bit her lip, taking a moment to appreciate Ozgar's hulking frame before running out the door. "Good luck today, Oz!" She whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Oh! And I found those old books I was talking about." She said pointing to her end table. "All yours, stud." She winked.

Oz had pined after Muiri for a long time, like most of the young men in Markarth. She's always been with that braggart Alain Dupont, but he's been gone as of late. At best he was probably off stabbing innocent women for their coin, Oz thought; though he didn't much care. Now Muiri's with Oz, and it was only a matter of time before he rose through the ranks of the Markarth Court.

Ozgar finally managed to slip on his trousers and shirt and gathered up the rest of his things in a bag. He threw in Muiri's books; a steadfast ward spell tome, and the book Breathing Water. As Ozgar vaulted out of the young witch's bedroom, miners and smelters arriving for work laughed and jokingly applauded. He smiled and waved as he attempted to sneak home before his father came out to oversee the smelter.

Unfortunately, for Oz, as he quietly opened the door, his father Mulush Gro-Shugurz, was exiting.

"Son." He greeted gruffly.

"Hey, Pa!" Oz greeted, standing up straight and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I was -"

"Keeping that Reach girl's bed warm for Dupont again." Mulush half teased, half chidded the young orc. "I keep telling you to find more productive things with your time." He said, bruising passed his son to get to the smelter for the day. "Maybe I should have your aunt keep you in Cidnah Mine for a week or two!" He laughed, giving his son one last look over his shoulder.

Ozgar put his head in his hands as he entered their home. "I'll show him productive." Oz grumbled as he flipped through the ward spell tome. He drew a bath, practicing his new restoration spell. Oz had been preparing to go off to the College of Winterhold - though Mulush didn't find that plan particularly 'productive.'

He soaked in the warm tub as he intently read Breathing Water, occasionally attempting to cast the high level alteration spell, to no avail. A few more apprentice level skills under his belt, and Oz will be ready for the College's entrance exam. Muiri has certainly helped expedite his studying.

Once he was cleaned and refreshed, Oz dressed in his mage robes, and affixed his armored boots and gauntlets. He kept his Dwarven mace on his hip, but he knew he needed to start practicing with his bow more often. And once again, Oz and Mulush crossed paths at the entrance of their home.

"Finally dressed." Mulush said, raising an eyebrow at Ozgar's get up.

"I'm going to Understone Keep to see if there's anything I can do for Calcelmo." Oz replied, proudly.

Mulush nodded at his son, and smiled approvingly. "Good man." He then pointed to Oz's left tusk, cracked when he was a child and now capped with a silver tip. "Careful not to lose your good one." Mulush said curtly, patting his son on the back and heading inside to their kitchen.

"Thanks pa." Oz replied, standing in front of the door for a moment before leaving.

–

Ozgar's work for Markarth's irritable Court Wizard today was simple enough; The old elf needed some spiders killed in his latest excavation site. The small ones gave Oz some good archery practice. But the real problem, 'Nihme', Calcelmo called it, proved more difficult. Oz had to rely on his trusty mace at the end of their fight.

Calcelmo gave Oz his typical reward; 50 septims, some dwarven metal to take to the smelter, and offered a guided tour of his Museum. Oz took his septims and material, politely declining the tour, again.

Normally, Oz would spend at least a few of his septims in 'tribute' at the Temple of Dibella. Lately, he's been stopping by Muiri after completing odd jobs. But today, after the look on his Mulush's face, Oz wanted to show his pa he was doing just fine adventuring and learning magic.

"Check this out, Pa!" Oz said, holding up his coin purse and a dwarven helmet he found in the excavation. His brow furrowed when he saw his father sitting solemnly at the kitchen table. "Pa?"

"Hi son." Mulush replied, sullen. He took a deep breath and lightly kicked the chair opposite him out from the table. "Have a seat, boy. There's something we need to discuss."

Oz slowly crept forward, putting his equipment and loot down. "What's going on?"

Mulush sighed. "Weylin… Weylin went crazy in the market today."

Oz slowly nodded. "I heard some guards talking about an attack when I was leaving the Keep, but… Weylin?" Weylin, a meek, almost sickly one of Mulush's workers. He'd worked as a smelter since Oz was a young boy.

"I know." Mulush said grimly. "Never thought he had it in him. Not that he did anything impressive. Stabbing some traveling woman in the back?" Mulush took a deep swig from his bottle of mead. "Pathetic."

"Well, don't blame yourself, Pa. It's not like -"

"That's not what this is about." Mulush sighed. He leaned in, looking about the house making certain they were alone. "Look… I know I told ya your Ma was a Reachwoman… and to keep that secret. Had to go and get those blasted tattoos…" Mulush grumbled, gesturing to Ozgar's arms.

"Pa."

Mulush shook his head. "Sorry." He continued after taking another deep breath. "Your Ma was a forsworn… and a powerful witch at that."

Oz swallowed, his concerned gaze fixed on his father. "A forsworn?" He whispered. The savage warriors that plagued the Reach; The boogiemen he grew up hearing scary campfire tales of. "My Mother?"

"Aye." Mulush mused, sadness and anger behind his dark eyes. "Silvia was just a young reachwoman studying the herb trade when we met… But she was also growing sympathetic to the Forsworn cause."

Oz reached out and took a swig from Mulush's mead. His father nodded.

"She left to lead a coven shortly after you were born. The Markarth Incident had happened not too long before…" He trailed off as he wobbled to the cabinet to grab two fresh bottles for he and his son. "I tried to convince her to forget all that, but she was too far gone. Propaganda from her friends and that damn 'King in Rags'." He spat.

Oz quickly uncorked his mead and took another swig. He was hardly registering all the information his father was giving him. He'd hardly known anything of his mother, and now, all this?

"So, does she have something to do with this Weylin business?" Oz asked, now staring intently at the table.

"I don't know." Mulush shook his head. He took another swig. "I think so. But whatever it is, the Forsworn are whipping up trouble in Markarth again. And you're…" He trailed off.

"Oh." Oz's eyes slowly widened and he nodded. "You don't -"

"I'm not punishing you boy." Mulush exclaimed, the concern evident in his voice. He shuddered and leaned in again. "I just… I think you should leave town for a little bit." He whispered. "Until all this has blown over."

Oz nodded with a stiff upper lip. "Maybe this is my excuse to get to Winterhold." He let out a nervous, awkward laugh as he began to shed tears.

Mulush rolled his eyes. "I suppose that's as far from the Reach as you can get!" He sadly chuckled. The two orcs hugged, for the first time Oz could remember. Maybe ever.

—

Oz left early the next morning, before the sun had begun to creep over the Karth Mountains. Mulush had chartered him a carriage to Largashbur in the Rift. Oz would be staying in the Stronghold with Mulush's cousin, Chief Yamarz.

Oz shivered in the crisp morning air. He began writing a letter to Muiri, but decided to rest his eyes. The next thing he remembers was the sounds of horses neighing, men yelling, and swords clashing. Then, an unfamiliar voice.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake."