By Aithne’s own personal timeline, it had been less than a year since her previous marriage. Barely half that, in fact – just over seven months ago, she had been standing at the top of the College of Winterhold gripping Urag’s hands and listening to what sounded like bells pealing in celebration of the apex of her long journey, the moment the universe finally aligned to give her happiness after years of torture and pain.

 

It had all been an illusion, of course; the universe was the cruelest master she had ever had. Sutfu’s ministerings had nothing on the universe– he had merely tortured her. Giving her nice things for the sole purpose of taking them away again, breaking them, then handing back the shattered pieces while laughing was far more painful.

 

She shook her head, trying to clear it of her melancholy. That day, she had married for love; today, she married for…

 

For what? Aithne blinked as her mind stumbled upon the question. An orc wife had rights within the larger orc society – her vote was counted just as much as a male’s when it came time to choose leaders and they were often part of the kwåim council of elders – but at home, she was little more than a servant for her husband. That much had been made clear, not just by Chyehye (although she had certainly emphasized it enough times that Aithne wondered if the orc was trying to talk her out of the wedding), but by the thoughts of the meyge.

 

So what was she getting out of this? It was one of many questions she had not stopped to ask herself, and she felt it very unhelpful for the question to raise itself at this moment, when she was standing next to her groom listening to Dyaj speak about honor, commitment, and death to enemies (no mention of the word “love,” she noted) in Malacath’s name.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the pronouncement of her new name: Aithne gra-Tshak. It had somehow never crossed her mind to wonder what her fiancé’s real name was, and it was during her musing on this topic that the part of the ceremony she had most dreaded (having built it up in her head to something akin to that moment when she had first stepped into the kwåim) came and went in a disorienting heartbeat she barely had time to process. Nyatt gripped the front of her dress, tore it open in one yank to a roar of approval from the crowd, swept her into his arms, and stepped into the ngot. The door had already closed behind them before Aithne’s brain registered what had happened.

 

“What…” she managed to squeak out as Nyatt set her gently on her feet.

 

“I’m sorry.” Nyatt stepped back as far as the tiny ngot would allow. “At most orc weddings, the tearing of the gown is…emphasized much more, but since you’re a human, I thought…I mean, I wasn’t sure how…um…if…”

 

Aithne raised her eyebrows as she studied her new husband while her brain finished catching up. “You’re blushing!”

 

He was, and the pointing out of it only increased the dark green flush of his skin. “I…” he started, then paused and gripped his fists. “I do not know what madness came upon you to choose me when the entire meyge offered themselves, but I am grateful.”

 

Aithne shrugged. “I’ll be honest, Nyatt – I chose you because I felt you would demand the least from me. I have things to do and need to leave in order to do them. I cannot afford to sit here playing house.”

 

A pause, then, as his mouth opened then closed again. Aithne could feel him deflate a bit but then rally himself. “I…see. Well, it is true – you saved my life and then raised my ṭi, something I was certain could never happen. I owe you more than I could ever repay, so I will, of course, gainsay you nothing.”

 

Even as he said it, she could feel his inward cringe. The tiniest of peeks told her what she supposed should have been obvious – the man who had been emasculated his entire life saw this new step as more of the same. She cringed at her previous words and made haste to amend them.

 

“Do not worry, my husband. Chyehye has been most thorough in her teachings - I am well aware of my role as your wife, and I shall likewise gainsay you nothing that is your right as the head of our household. When it comes to matters of our family, you will always have the final say. I ask only for the boon of freedom of movement. Have no fear – no matter how far away I travel, I shall have your meals prepared and spend every night in our bed.”

 

How, exactly, that would work was something she would need to figure out later. Hopefully Nyatt liked the food provided by the College because she would not have time to cook three meals a day for him, as her duties required. While she was glad she had not married into a harem (another tricky subject she had not taken the time to think about beforehand), having someone to share the housekeeping duties would have been helpful.

 

For the moment, however, she could feel her words alleviate some of his anxiety. A good time to double-down by refocusing on the present. “Speaking of which.” She let the tattered remains of her wedding dress slip from her shoulders and gestured toward the bed. “I’m sure the meyge is growing anxious for the feast. We should not delay them longer.”

 

Nyatt’s anxiety spiked up again and Aithne frowned, although this time she managed to resist the temptation to peek. She was beginning to get in the habit of looking into people’s thoughts, and it frightened her a little to realize it had started to feel natural instead of invasive. She instead tried a guess at the reason for his calcitrance.

 

“I apologize, I know I am probably not attractive to you. I do not mind if you keep your eyes closed and picture someone you would rather be doing this with. But..”

 

“It’s not that! I just…”

 

He stumbled to a halt, his already-flushed skin darkening even more, until it appeared almost black.

 

Aithne frowned. “Are you…you have done this before, right?” And, at his incredulous look, clarified, “Had sex?”

 

“I…of course! All orc boys do it during their kodu. It is part of the ceremony to become a kwontå.” He paused, correctly surmised her expression meant she didn’t understand, and added, “The ceremony to go from boy to adult.”

 

“Ah. Then…”

 

“I just…don’t want to hurt you.”

 

Aithne couldn’t hold back the burst of laughter. “Oh, Nyatt, you don’t have to worry about me. I also have done this before.” She clenched her fists in front of her, concentrated on his clothes, then yanked her hands apart. ”Fuu blap!”

 

His clothes shred themselves to tatters, revealing his soft-toned body, itself a minor surprise – it was the first orc body she had seen that did not seem chiseled from marble – and she stepped forward and started to stroke his slowly rising cock as she pulled him toward the bed.

 

Despite her bravado, she felt conflicted as Nyatt’s orcish instincts kicked in and he took over, grabbing her and shoving her onto the down mattress. On the one hand, his cock was everything his extreme height had promised and the thought of the pain in would inflict filled Aithne with the familiar fear and lust combination that had kept her buoyed throughout her previous relationship.

 

On the other hand, that previous relationship was still so recent, it felt like a betrayal to Urag to be sleeping with someone else. Even though he had died; even though the new Urag had no interest in her; even though the one who now slammed into her, fulfilling the promise of blinding pain and ecstasy in one stroke, then redoubling it with each subsequent pound, was her legitimate and lawful husband.

 

Still, she could not shake the feeling of shame.

 

Aithne shook her head, then shifted, using just a little magical force to push Nyatt to the side then over, until she was straddling him. His cock never missed a beat, but now she could control its angle a little better, so it wasn’t hitting her in the exact same spot every time.

 

This pose reminded her of Borkul, and the thought of HIM helped ease her conscience. She pictured the icy beach, thought of Borkul under her complete control; of taking the power he had held over her and turning it into against him. SHE had the power now; he was nothing but a toy, a plaything.

 

The anger and heat from that moment came back and washed away the last vestiges of her guilty feelings. Aithne snarled something inarticulate as her nails bit into Nyatt’s chest, drawing blood and a howl from him that was joined a moment later by one of her own. She felt his hot spunk splash inside her even as her body convulsed. She gripped him, squeezed his hips with her knees, his cock with her pelvis, as they strained together until her strength left her all at once and she collapsed, gasping, upon his chest.

 

After some time, when their breathing had slowed to something resembling normal and the chill of the air on their sweat-drenched bodies began to create shivers, Aithne lifted her head and smiled at her husband.

 

“Well? How am I doing as an orcish wife so far?”
Nyatt laughed as one hand stroked absent fingers down Aithne’s back, giving her a second reason to shiver. “I…have no complaints. My agan owta - my guide during my kodu – was nothing like that.”

 

“Glad to hear it.” She rolled to one side then stood as Nyatt shifted up.

 

“I suppose we should go out there and start the feast. Only…” Nyatt paused as his apprehension rose once again.

 

Aithne grabbed the outfit Chyehye had placed in the ngot for her, this one a normal orcish tunic and trousers made of thick leather and fur. “What is it?”

 

Nyatt gestured at Aithne’s clothes. “I no longer have clothes. You tore them apart, and it is not the normal custom for the husband to require a second outfit.” His voice sounded amused but his mind addendumed (too loudly for her to avoid hearing) <How did you tear them apart?>

 

“Oh! Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“It is no matter. However…” again, a pause.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I am…going to have to tell you to fetch some for me from my ngot.”

 

“I…okay, I don’t mi…”

 

Nyatt mumbled something and Aithne frowned. “What?”
He sighed. “I’m going to have to tell you to do it in front of the meyge. So they can see that…that I am in charge.”

 

He said the last word almost as a whisper, and Aithne blinked. “I…see. And you are concerned because you feel I might be shamed by this because I am of ṭi sna?”

 

“Well…yes. Although you are no longer in ṭi sna. To my shame, my low placement has lowered you to ṭi chyːu.” Another sigh. “I am aware of my own weakness, as is the rest of the meyge. I do not have the strength to oppose you, should you choose to ignore me. Although it is against custom, it is not unheard of for a wife to refuse her husband’s commands.”

 

“My husband, it is as I told you before – I am aware of my duties as your wife, and I will fulfill them, as I promised. When you tell me to fetch something for you, I will fetch it. Only…”

 

Another spike of fear from Nyatt. “Only what?”

 

She grinned. “You’ll need to tell me where your ngot is. I have no idea.”

 

 

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