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OP is so amazed by how synchronized her mind is with A!A's. This story is incredible, and I can just FEEL THE ANGST COMING. I mean, its already here, but I know my heart will hurt more.

YES. I love him and his hidden depths and his growly voice. Frankly I just love the Battle-Born/Grey-Mane conflict in general, they're all so developed compared to many of the other Skyrim NPCs.

Not OP, but this anon is totally looking forward to the rest! ;]

I originally had zero interest in becoming Thane of Markarth until I discovered just how much of a hunk the housecarl is haha.

Thank you very much for the support. I know I hated Markarth too, until I saw Argis, then I married him with a few different characters.

Dub-Con, Voyeurism (other Forsworn), rape-ish?

"Big, even for an Orc."
The Dragonborn helps the Forsworn escape Cihdna mine, and later stops by at Druadach Redoubt to see his favorite murdering Orc. Let's just say Borkul is much too happy to see him. Sexy-times!

DB can be any race but I'd favor a Mer. I don't mind if the DB isn't exactly consenting at first so long as he does eventually.

No squicks but please nothing too gross and also please ignore Kai because I want it to be all male (in terms of the voyeurism).

Ohmygod. This, with Elenwen? YESSSS.

Seconded! Never enough Mercer <3

this is great, i cant wait for more, its really funny

Borgakh dropped their packs and drew her blade while Dyce ducked out the way of more Forsworn arrows.

“Don’t pull it!” she commanded. “They’re barbed.”

“I guess I can learn to live with it then,” Dyce said through gritted teeth as he drew his own bow. Husband? Husband? He’d have to worry about it later.

They’d been ambushed by a small group, and thankfully the alarm hadn’t been raised at the camp; at least, not yet. Borgakh charged down the slope, battering aside arrows with her shield. Dyce picked a rock to crouch behind and took aim at the opposing archers.

It hurt to breath and to pull back his bow, but he didn’t think he was going to pass out or anything as drastic as that, and despite the awkwardness of having an arrow in his way, his aim wasn’t off. The last light in the western sky silhouetted the archers, while in the gloom below them in a small dip, Borgakh battled the warriors.

Dyce killed quietly. Borgakh did not. Her sword and shield rang against her enemies and she shouted with rage and glee as she lopped off another Forsworn head. Dyce frowned and listened.

He heard what he feared he might; shouts of alarm from the settlement behind them. He winced as he took a breath to raise his voice, “They’ve heard us! We have to go.”

They paused for a moment. It looked like they’d wiped out the patrol. Borgakh, apparently inexhaustible, ran back up the slope and scooped up their packs.

“This way,” Dyce said weakly, indicating a southerly direction with an outstretched hand. “Rorikstead’s in that direction. We can stay there.”

“Lean on me if you need to,” Borgakh said, her sword still drawn and sticking close by his side as they hurried away, every jolting step sending pain blooming through Dyce’s chest. He wanted to cough. He didn’t. He suspected it would be a bad idea if he did.

They slowed and stopped once they’d put some distance between them and the Forsworn camp. They waited, listening, for a few moments.

“I think we lost them,” Dyce said. “What do I do about this? Can you fix it?”

To his relief, Borgakh nodded. “Depending on where it is, I can cut it out or push it through. But I’ll need better light. How far is Rorikstead?”

“I have no idea,” Dyce said. “Pass me a potion, would you?”

“No. Healing the wound around the arrow will only make it worse to take out later. I’m sorry, husband.”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“Because we are married,” she said simply.

“We most certainly are not!”

“You paid my dowery. By Orc custom, we are married.”

“I never agreed to be married.”

“You paid my dowery.”

In the dark he couldn’t read her expression. Tired and in pain he gave up for now, and they walked side by side to Rorikstead.

They acquired a room at the Frostfruit Inn without trouble, despite the late hour and Mralki recognised Dyce and asked if there was anything he could do to help his injured guest. Erik wasn’t in evidence, but given Mralki’s attitude, Dyce thought it safe to assume his adventuring was going well.

“I can handle it,” Borgakh said, dumping their packs on the floor and indicating that Dyce should sit on the bed.

Dyce sat in silence as Borgakh knelt in front of him and prodded his wound with a wickedly sharp orcish dagger.

“I need to cut it out,” she said, looking up into his face. “It’s not in too deep. Your armour was good for something.”

“That is why I wear it. Do what you have to- nargh!”

“Don’t move!”

“Yeah yeah.”

Dyce gritted his teeth and after some mercifully quick field surgery, Borgakh yanked the arrow free and offered a healing potion up to his lips.

“I can do it myself,” Dyce said, taking the bottle and upending it.

Borgakh stood and left the room, and Dyce could hear her asking Mralki for some food. Dyce undid his armour and pulled it and the blood stained undershirt off to better examine his brand new scar. He’d have to patch his armour as well, he noted, but it wasn’t a large hole.

All in all, he thought, as he ran his hand over his ribs, he’d had worse.

“He’s going to heat up some stew,” Borgakh said when she returned.

“I see. Thanks for digging that arrow out.”

“Of course, husband.”

“Will you please stop calling me that?” Dyce snapped. “My name is Dyce and I did not agree to marry anyone.”

Her attitude had changed slightly. Now they were in a bedroom rather than the Stronghold or the open road, she seemed less certain, her eyes flicking from his face to his chest and back up again.

“I am your first wife then?” she said, raising her head a bit higher, proudly.

“Well, I suppose. Although by Orcish law I’d technically be married to Eric. I did pay for him to leave home as well after all.”

“He’s a man, isn’t he? You can’t marry him.”

“The Nords don’t make a distinction. I take it Orcs do?”

“Two men may bind themselves by adopting an orphan, but it is not common. They cannot have children, you see.”

“Yes, I do understand how it works.”

They fell silent as Mralki arrived with some bread and stew. Dyce asked him how Erik was going.

“He sends me letters, when he remembers. And a bit of gold sometimes. He travels with the traders fighting bandits.”

“I’m glad he’s doing well. Don’t let us disturb your sleep any further.”

“I’ll see you in the morning then,” he nodded at them both before withdrawing.

Dyce ate swiftly, Borgakh thoughtfully.

“Do you have a house?” she asked.

“Yeah, in Windhelm. I have someone looking after it for me.”

“That’s good. Children should grow up in a home rather than on the road.”

Dyce nearly choked and he coughed violently for a few moments. “What?” he asked, when he could breathe again.

She took a deep breath, “When you desire children, I am ready.”

An image of Calder bouncing a baby Orc on his knee formed in Dyce’s mind. “No.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “No, no and no. No children. Not for me.” He swallowed a truly awful elixir every two weeks to make sure of it.

“Right,” Borgakh said, looking relieved.

“I’m not some old Orc chieftain looking to start a dynasty. Or build a stronghold.”

“I’m sorry. My training did not anticipate...” she trailed off, frowning.

Dyce scowled. “I’m going to wash this blood off and go to bed.” He got to his feet and stalked out to look for a pail of water. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel sorry for her. She could cleave heads like they were eggs and could probably lift him one-handed, but she was also clearly a bit lost now she was outside her stronghold.

He couldn’t just abandon her until she found her feet. Markarth first, then if things didn’t improve maybe some of his Orcish acquaintances would have some ideas because Dyce was out of his depth.

But not married. Nope. No way. He’d just have to convince her of the fact.

When he returned, she’d shed her armour and had gotten into bed. Muscular green shoulders rose above the furs, but the rest of her was left mostly to his imagination. He’d already worked out that she was sort of gorgeous. Shame she claimed to be married.

Dyce sat on the opposite side of the bed and started taking his boots off.

“Are we going to consummate our marriage?” Borgakh asked.

At least she’d asked first.

“No.” He tossed his boots aside and stood up to take off his trousers.

“Is it because I’m an Orc?”

“No.” He left his smalls on.

“Is it because I’m a woman?”

“No.” He got into bed, and settled down under the furs.

“Are you nervous? I am a little.”

He sighed and replied in a more sympathetic tone, “No.”

“Are you uncertain what to do? I have been trained; I could try and teach you.”

He huffed in amusement, “No, that’s not necessary.”

“Are you worried that you might not satisfy me because you are a Breton?”

“By the Nine, let me sleep!” he growled. “And no, I’m not.”

He woke up the next morning with Borgakh’s breath tickling his ear, her arm wrapped around his chest, and an erection. Dyce sighed and tried to wriggle away without waking her up. He was only partially successful as she opened her eyes but only hummed inquiringly.

“I’m just getting breakfast,” he said. “Sleep on, we’re not leaving yet.”

Nevertheless, she was up and dressed by the time Dyce had placed his order with Mralki, who still kept the same early hours he remembered from his time with Erik. Dyce asked for more news of the adventurer, and while they ate the innkeeper filled him in on what he knew of his son.

Dyce asked Mralki to pass on an encouraging message when he next saw Erik, and he and Borgakh bid him farewell.

This is the best Borgakh fill so far. Please, continue!

I'm currently working on this fill.

The title made me think of the series of movies 'American Pie'.

Maybe we can some how implement that into the story?

Oooh, ohh! I would like the chance to write this because I haven't written a fill yet. If someone else doese it then I'll just go and transform into Madanach.

I'll write it if you don't want to. (?)

OMG yes! Someone please fill this awesomeness!

Not OP, but I like the story especially the character development and the background you've created A!A. I'm not familiar with Khal Drogo (though thanks for the link OP *_*) but I really like the Irish/Celtic lore and I think it fits with the Forsworn. Is there a section missing between 3.3 and 3.4 by chance? I may be reading into things though.

This is fantastic. I was rolling with laughter at Borgakh's questions towards the end, but I feel for her, too. They're both a little out of their depths, here! Can't wait to see where this goes.

Chapter 8

The first week past slowly, Balgruuf fought to keep focused on his duties to the city. The second week, was worse, he was slowly going insane. The third week, he made the decision, he wasn’t waiting around any longer. With four guards, his housecarl they left for High Hrothgar.

The trip felt longer then when he was with Melina. He was praying that she was alive since he had heard no word from her. He remembered her words, but wouldn’t give up until he saw her for himself, whether she was dead or alive.

He stared up the flight of stairs and shook his head. Usually this was a peaceful treck, but his mind couldn’t focus, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong.

He sighed in relief when he saw the old large stone structure, but another problem came to him. No one other than the dragonborn had ever been welcome. The only time he had entered was when they had the peace talks.

He walked up to the large doors, and entered. He hoped the Greybeards had answers. He saw one of them kneeling on the floor praying, another stood staring at a wall. He walked up to one of them. “Where is the dragonborn?” he asked. He didn’t know what to expect, but it hadn’t been the hard stare he was receiving. He stood firm before that stare and waited for an answer. His anger built when the man wasn't forth coming with an answer.

He thought about reprimanding the man, but a motion of his hand forestalled any biting words he may have. Balgruuf followed him further into the old building. They stopped before a door and Balgruuf’s stomach churned in worry.

Without another word the Greybeard left him alone to stare at the door. Slowly he opened the door, the room was small, just large enough for a single bed and a dresser. His breath caught as he looked at the figure sleeping on the bed. Melina… she was pale, and sported many wounds that were almost healed.

He walked over to the bed as if in a trance. Without thought he lifted his sleeping wife and held her close to his chest. “Hmm, Balgruuf?” The slurred question came out. It was music to his ears.

“Thank the gods you’re safe,” he whispered and took her mouth in a harsh kiss. All his fears, frustrations, and worries were put into that kiss. He held her tightly, not wanting to let her go, not ever again.

“In a few days I should be able to move about, but for now I’m bedridden,” she muttered when he broke the kiss, gently cupping his cheek, trying to sooth her husband. Damn she had missed him, when she killed Alduin her first thought was to get back to him quickly, but her injures said differently. She didn’t want to tell him that she almost lost their babe, she didn’t want to tell him that she felt different. All these things she was going to keep to herself, so she didn’t worry her husband.

“What happened?” Balgruuf asked quietly as he held her. He awaited an answer, stroked her short hair soothingly.

“I was in Sovengre, met all the old heroes and with their help I defeated Alduin,” she answered enjoying Balgruuf’s closeness. “One of his bites got me, I thought for sure I wouldn’t be leaving there. But with Paarthurnax’s help I made it here and the Greybeards have been carrying for me.”

“How’s the babe?” he asked, lightly touching the mound. He smiled as the babe moved beneath his hand.

“As you can feel, he’s doing good,” she murmured and sighed tiredly. What energy she had quickly disappeared. Slowly her eyes fluttered close, she felt the bed move and her being shifted. She sighed contentedly as Balgruuf’s warmth surrounded her.

They stayed at High Hrothgar for a week, now she was finally well enough to leave. They took the trip even slower this time, since she was almost eight months gone. Balgruuf had insisted on many breaks for the walk back, she could still see the worry in his eyes every time he watched her.

It took them two weeks to return to Whiterun. She smiled as people cheered when she entered Whiterun. Word had already spread that she defeated Alduin. Her destiny was finished and now she could rest.

She was surprised at the welcome. A part of her enjoyed the attention, that people were grateful she saved them, but another part regretted doing what she had to do. After absorbing Aldiun soul she felt different. Her looked up in the sky and saw a red dragon flying around. She smiled slightly and sighed wistfully. Odahviing had been right she envied the dragons and their ability to fly.

~oooooooooooooo~

The weeks passed by and her strength was regaining. Her spirits lifted more with each passing day. She didn’t go on anymore missions, but every day she would go out in the lands surrounding Whiterun. When she was cooped up she was irritable.

She grimaced as a the pains she been having all day intensify. Danica had warned her to expect this since she was so active. The warning Danica gave informed her there was a high chance that she would have the child earlier than expected.

With a annoyed sigh she headed back up to Dragonsreach. The guards at the door greeted her with a smile. She didn’t smile back, couldn’t at the moment. “Have someone go down to Danica, tell her it's time,” she muttered gripping her stomach as another pain took her. She had the amusement of watching one of the guards eyes widened and pale. She watched him run off for a moment before the door was opened for her.

She glanced at Balgruuf and saw he was holding court. She saw the scowl on his face and knew this wouldn’t be a good time to interrupt him.

Balgruuf watched her walk in and knew. He saw the grimace and how she was holding her stomach. Elation and worry filled him. He glanced at the man standing in front of him and scowled. It was another petition to allow him to expand his farmland, but Balgruuf knew the man couldn’t afford it. He was already barely getting by with paying his taxes.

He met Irileth eyes and nodded to her. Without another word he left his throne and followed his wife upstairs. He smiled as he watched her once confident gait turn into a slight waddle. He knew if he said a word about the change in her walk she would have his head.

“How close?” He asked as he led her to their bedchambers. The made was in there already setting up the bed with oiled skins.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” his wife growled, her voice deepening with the beginnings of a thu’um. He worried at the sound of her voice, it had been happening more and more lately.

He decided to keep his silence instead of upsetting his wife more. He glanced behind him as their bedroom door opened. “Jarl Balgruuf, it’s time for you to leave,” Danica stated firmly as she moved further into the room.

Balgruuf scowled about to chastise her for ordering him to leave his own bedroom, but Melina’s low groaned stopped him. He turned to his wife to find her hunched over clutching her stomach. With a curt nod he walked out of the room and waited by the door.

Balgruuf cringed and worried as he heard every groan, muffled scream from the room. A few times he almost barged into the room. His eyes widened as he heard her Melina’s thu’um echo off the walls. The door vibrated against its power.

The door opened quickly, “I can’t do this alone…” Danica muttered with singed hair and a harried looked on her face. Balgruuf rushed in and straight to his wife’s side. A few maids followed closely with buckets of water. Balgruuf sat beside his wife, taking her hand in his.

The time flew by quickly for him as his wife birth the babe. The maids rushed around extinguishing the fires his wife caused. Danica stayed away until the babe started showing.

He met and held Melina’s amber eyes, they were hard, cold and distant. He didn’t like the look, but said nothing. With one more forceful thu’um he heard the squall of his child. He grinned as he beheld his daughter as it was placed on Melina’s stomach.

He reached out and lightly touched his daughter, and sighed happily as he squeezed Melina’s hand in support. He glanced at Danica as she neared, his eyes narrowed as fear entered the woman’s eyes. His gazed turned back to Melina, her eyes had turned deadly with a clear warning in them. He also noticed that they hadn’t turned back to the usual green.

“That will be all Danica,” he murmured not once taking his eyes off his wife. He smiled slightly when Melina gave him a grateful smile.

(To be continued in a different fill. I will post it here where it will be located once I have the first chapter up.)

Thank you all who have been reading this story. Hope to hear from you in the sequel. I'll post the link as soon as it is up.

Does OP and A!A's mind a third fill for this prompt? I just finished a story and this prompted would be the perfect sequel for it.

Ania is great. It's hilarious how she walks in and immediately starts ogling him. Looking forward to hearing about their adventures!

Yes, yes, and YES.

DYCE FILL YAAAAAYYYY!!!!!!

I was dying of laughter at Borgakh's questions. "Are you uncertain what to do?" OH BORGAKH IF ONLY YOU KNEW.

This is adorable and I can't wait to read more of this.

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