The halls, usually bustling with activity, seemed strangely quiet. Perhaps it was the late hour or simply her own sense of isolation weighing down on her, but each step felt heavier than the last. Andira thought back to the throne room, to Uhtred’s calm demeanor and quiet confidence. He was different from what she expected, different from what the books had led her to believe about orcs. But still, he was part of their enemy's bloodline—a constant reminder of the wars that had raged for centuries.

As she approached the wing of the castle where the orcs were staying, Andira took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This wasn’t about her feelings—it was about duty, about securing peace for her people. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with him, but there was no avoiding it now.

Finally, she arrived at Uhtred's door. She paused, standing still for a moment, hoping the journey had been exhausting enough that he would be fast asleep. For a brief second, she considered walking away, but her father’s words echoed in her mind: Get to know him.

With a sigh, she knocked softly, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the hall. “It’s Andira,” she announced, stepping back and fiddling with the rings on her fingers as she waited. Her thoughts wandered, wondering what he would say, what he would expect of her.

The guard posted outside of Uhtred's door gave her a small nod, the large orc studying her curiously but saying nothing. Within moments, the door opened, and Uhtred stepped out, freshly changed. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the sides of his head shaved, and his open tunic revealed the scars that crisscrossed his chest—marks of battles long past. Despite his rough appearance, there was a calmness to him that Andira hadn’t expected.

“It is nice to meet you... properly,” Uhtred said after a brief moment, searching for the right words. His accent wasn’t as thick as his father’s, but he spoke slowly, clearly thinking through his Necaian before he continued. “Without our parents and the rest of our people watching... well, kind of.” His eyes flicked to Andira’s guard and the massive orc standing behind him.

“This is my cousin, Matuk,” Uhtred added. “His Necaian is not so good.” He muttered something in Orcish to Matuk, the guttural sounds harsh but quick. Matuk gave her a cordial nod.

Andira returned the forced smile with one of her own, her brown eyes meeting Uhtred’s briefly before she gestured for him to follow her. “Yes, nicer without the fanfare.” Though her nerves still fluttered, the absence of an audience made it easier. At least here, they could avoid the judging eyes of their families.

“Lead the way and we can hopefully make this a little less...uh what's the word... awkward, yes?” Uhtred asked, his lips pulling into a small, unsure smile as he followed her through the hall. He walked at a pace that allowed him to take in the architecture around him, his eyes moving across the intricate details of the stonework.

Andira listened intently, relieved that Uhtred had taken the initiative to start the conversation. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from this marriage or what to expect. The idea of being bound to someone had never crossed her mind until this abrupt arrangement. Uhtred wasn’t what she had imagined; the books on orcs had painted a much more brutal picture. But Uhtred... he toted the line between his people and something else, something that intrigued her.

"I'm sure I'm not what you want or expected." Uhtred said once the guards had fallen back a bit, "I am my father's only son, and while our Warchief is decided by combat, my father thought you might find me more appealing since I am half human. I promise it is no slight and if you would prefer a more accomplished warrior, my other cousin, Ver'gul is here just in case, though he is kind of..." Uhtred paused, struggling to find the word in her language again, "Well in my tongue we would call him a šupak which I think roughly translates to a shit head?" Uhtred gave a small awkward laugh as he fell into stride with his bride to be. 

“Šupak,” Andira repeated with a small, amused smile. The crude word, though foreign, seemed to fit more than just his cousin. “That might be a useful word to remember.”

Uhtred gave a quiet chuckle, clearly relieved that she had caught onto the joke. His Necaian wasn’t perfect, but she understood him, and that seemed to ease the tension between them.

As they reached an ornate bronze door, Andira slowed, placing a hand on the handle. “And me?” she asked, glancing at him. “Did I meet your expectations? If not, I have four sisters to choose from. Although, Jana might also be considered what you called... a šupak?”

She pushed open the door to reveal a small but elegant library. Two walls were lined with shelves, each filled with books on Necaian history, tradition, and culture, while the adjacent wall was made entirely of glass. The view led to a serene indoor courtyard, where a single tree stood, its branches stretching toward the sky. The courtyard’s missing ceiling allowed sunlight to stream in, bathing the room in natural light.

“This is our library for guests,” Andira explained, stepping into the room. “Many of the books here cover Necaian history and tradition. It’s often overlooked, but it’s one of my favorite places.”

Uhtred followed her in, his amber eyes widening slightly at the sight of the books. Almost immediately, he left her side, drawn toward the shelves. His fingers brushed over the spines of the volumes as he pulled a large book from the shelf, flipping through the pages with interest. “I can speak your language, but... I cannot read it well,” he admitted, his words slower now as he struggled to find the right phrasing. “But... we have nothing like this back home.”

"Your Necaian is pretty good. Where did you learn?" She was curious, before today the only orcs that traveled past their borders were prisoners.

Uhtred replaced the book and continued browsing, grabbing another and flipping through it’s pages, his expression a mix of curiosity and awe. As she asked where he had learned to speak Necaian, his brow furrowed slightly, and he paused, closing the book before carefully placing it back in its spot. “Like I said before... I am... only half orc,” he began, his voice quieter now, more reflective. “My mother was from your people. And although I... lost her when I was young my father made sure I learned her culture and the language of her people.” He paused again, clearly searching for the correct words before finishing. “This... alliance is more than just goods and land for me. For my father.”

He met her gaze then, a quiet vulnerability in his eyes as he revealed his mixed heritage. It was clear that this alliance was personal for him, a connection to a part of his life that had been lost long ago. Andira took in his words, considering what it meant for both of them as they stood in the quiet, sunlit room.

Andira's mind wandered briefly as they walked, her thoughts shifting to the reality that she would soon be leaving Necai—her home—for good. She had visited other countries before, but this felt different. This time, there was no return. The weight of that thought settled heavily, but it was quickly interrupted when Uhtred mentioned his mother.

“My people?” she repeated, turning slightly toward him, her face showing clear surprise. Andira had never heard of such a thing. The very idea that a Necaian would willingly bond with an orc seemed... impossible. Most of her people despised the orcs, sharing sentiments similar to her sister’s.
“Your mother was Necaian?” she asked, her eyes wide with shock. “This is the first time I’ve heard of such a thing...”

Uhtred, clearly unsurprised by her reaction, leaned back against a nearby table, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes flicked toward the guards by the door, then back to Andira. He gave a dry laugh, a sound that didn’t quite hold humor, and nodded.

““Indeed. And—" He paused, his mouth tightening slightly as he considered his words. His brow furrowed as though searching for the right phrase. "Before you think something unsavory..." he continued, the words deliberate, "my father loved—loves—my mother. More than anything. Even still. He refuses to take another mate, which is unheard of for a warchief. The only thing our people value more than honor and success in battle is,” He paused, searching for the correct word, “procreation, strong heirs. But he refuses.”

Uhtred chuckled again, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “So, you’re stuck with me.” There was something more behind his words, a hint of a deeper pain hidden beneath the surface.
Andira’s surprise only deepened as she watched him. While she had no preconceived assumptions about his family, she didn’t expect him to defend his father so quickly. There was something about his tone that made her realize how personal this was to him.

“To your defense,” Uhtred continued, “I’ve only heard of maybe one or two others like me—half-bloods, with a Necaian parent. It’s not common. And... I have no way of knowing if all parties were willing.”

Andira stopped and turned to face him fully as he defended his father. Her gaze, however, didn’t meet his, instead focusing on the shelves of books around them. “I’m not of the mind that just because I haven’t heard of something, it makes it untrue,” she replied, her tone even.

She didn’t like the fact that Uhtred had assumed she’d jump to something negative. Sure, Jana or her mother might have, but Andira wasn’t like most Necaians in that regard. Her relationship with the orcs, and the war, was far more complicated. She didn’t have the black-and-white view that many of her people did.

Motioning toward the shelves, she added, “Despite your assumptions about my assumptions, I’m aware that these books, and all the others in this castle, only afford one perspective. Especially when it comes to war—and our enemies.” She glanced back at him, her voice softening slightly. “Nothing is black and white in war.”

He straightened, gesturing for her to continue the tour, as though he wanted to leave the topic behind. 

“Your turn,” he said as they resumed their walk, his voice lighter. “Why did your father choose you to be wed? I understand you’re the second daughter, and he wouldn’t want an orc—or half-orc—to rule, but... you’re still close to the throne. You said you have other siblings?”

Andira followed his motion, stepping back into the hall. As the questions turned toward her, she shrugged, her tone casual but thoughtful. “I actually don’t really know his true motivations. I’m not the heir to the throne, so I’m not privy to the conversations that happen behind closed doors. I can only guess.”

She glanced at him as they walked, continuing, “I have five sisters—Jana, Ebele, Zesa, Ialari, and Nabi. Jana is the only one who shares full blood with me. The rest are from a mistress. As we’ve established, Jana is the heir, and a šupak.” Andira smiled slightly, though the jest was sharp. “That treaty wouldn’t have even made it past the first draft with her in charge.”

“Ebele,” she continued, “is a lot like Jana, just on the opposite end of the spectrum—and they hate each other for it. She’s vain, shallow, and would probably kill herself at the thought of marrying an orc. Zesa is fine, but she’s extremely religious. She’s on her way to becoming a priestess. Ialari is ten, Nabi is nine. Neither has gone through their rite of passage yet. So that leaves me, voted least likely to kill an orc, or myself for that matter. Also, least likely to run away to the church.”

She paused as they entered a long hall lined with large windows, the sunlight filtering through to illuminate a vast garden outside. “So I guess that means you’re stuck with me,” she added with a smirk, echoing his earlier words.

Uhtred laughed lightly at her response. "Well, I’m happy you don’t want to kill me. I’ll do my best to keep it that way." He gave her a half-smile, adding, "As for what I expected... I figured at best, I’d be paired with someone undesirable by Necai’s standards, or someone who’d kill me in my sleep. And here I am, standing before a gorgeous princess who has openly admitted to not wanting to kill me or my people. So, this is going far better than I expected."

He glanced out the windows, admiring the lush gardens as they reached a glass door in the center. Andira opened it, motioning for her guard to stay behind. She was taken aback by his compliment, though she didn’t let it show. Instead, she turned away, embarrassed by the unfamiliar warmth the remark brought. Never had she imagined receiving such words from an orc.

“You might want to ask yours to stay as well. You’re safe here,” she explained before releasing a loud, sharp whistle into the air, eager to change the subject.

Uhtred turned to Matuk, whose brows furrowed at the suggestion. Switching to Orcish, Uhtred said, “The doors are glass. If anything happens, you’ll be right here. Relax, cousin.”

Matuk grumbled back in their native tongue, “If she kills you, no one will be surprised. My one job is to make sure you make it to the wedding, so if we could get to that part, I’d appreciate it.”

Uhtred rolled his eyes and followed Andira into the garden. As the bushes rustled, two large tigers rushed toward them. Uhtred tensed slightly but remained still, understanding that any sudden movement could trigger an unfavorable response from the predators. The larger tiger moved to a defensive stance but stopped the moment Andira clicked her tongue.

Andira moved toward the larger tiger, scratching behind its ear. “This is Oda, and the smaller one is Amba. They’re mostly harmless.” She smiled, turning her attention to the smaller one, her hand sliding under its chin. “You mentioned your warchief is decided by combat... how does that work?” she asked, her gaze shifting back to Uhtred.

"They’re beautiful," Uhtred commented, his eyes watching the tigers with a mix of respect and admiration. He made no move to touch them, allowing the creatures to decide if he was worth investigating. He paused for a moment, considering her question.

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward,” Uhtred began, scratching the back of his head as he spoke. “Most warchiefs die in battle, but in my father’s case, he directly challenged the last leader and won. If a warchief dies in battle, a tournament is held. Either way, it’s by death or yield.”

He paused again, as if searching for the right words. “There’s a bit more to it, though. You need the support of the clans—a majority, at least—before you can prove yourself in combat. It’s... more than just fighting.”

Her attention returned to the tigers now resting at her feet. She gave Uhtred a small nod of thanks on behalf of her feline companions. “They know you’re not a threat now, so you can move freely,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

As Uhtred explained the orcish process of succession, Andira listened carefully, her curiosity growing. “The succession doesn’t get messy?” she asked, turning to face him. “For example, what happened to the last leader and his family? They didn’t just kill him—or them?” Her voice carried genuine interest. “If Jana ascended the throne and wanted to kill off me or my other sisters, no one would think much of it. But, I know she wouldn’t, since no one else is interested in ruling. The people love her anyway. Among human kingdoms, it’s not uncommon to get rid of anyone seen as competition. Doesn’t that happen with the orcs?”

Andira bent down to give the cats their final scratches before straightening. “Is there anywhere or anything that particularly interests you? We still have some time before we’re summoned.”

Uhtred nodded as she spoke. “It can get messy, yes. But, much like your people, it’s survival of the fittest. The clan is what matters most, the strength of our people. So, ambition only works if an orc has the skill to back it up. Since combat is central to our politics, challenges don’t last long without strength.” He crouched, wiggling his fingers playfully to show the tigers he was willing to offer them some affection now.

“I love your architecture," he added, eyes sweeping over the structure once more. "We have nothing like this back home. Our buildings are... harder on the eyes.” He chuckled lightly, then looked back at her with a smile, one carrying a touch of innocence that seemed rare for an orc. “But honestly, I’m most curious about you. We’re to be wed, and I know almost nothing about you—except that you like to read and have two cats.” He stood, brushing off his clothes. “So, show me your favorite things.”
Andira was surprised by his admission, though she tried to hide it. She had assumed he wouldn’t care to know much about her; after all, their marriage was a political arrangement. She’d never imagined there would be any real interest between them. But he was right—if they were to share a life, knowing something more about each other would make it less... miserable.

After chewing her lip thoughtfully, she replied, “My favorite place is further in, past the garden, but I don’t think our guards would like that. So, I’ll show you my second favorite thing in the castle.” She glanced back at the tigers. “I’m afraid I’m not that interesting,” she added with a small, self-deprecating smile before saying goodbye to Oda and Amba.

They exited through the glass doors, where their guards waited. Andira led the way down a different path, moving past the hall of windows they had just walked through. As they ventured further, she glanced over at him. “While I show you more about me, I still know almost nothing about you, aside from your lineage,” she remarked. “How about we trade a personal question for a question?”

Uhtred followed her out, falling into stride beside her. He glanced back over his shoulder, momentarily wondering what lay beyond the garden. “Mm, I’m sure that’s not true,” he mused after a pause. “At the very least, you’re not a šupak.” He chuckled, the humor lightening his tone. “I, on the other hand, am not all that interesting. But your trade sounds fair enough to me. I’ll answer any questions you have—about me or my people.”

Andira folded her arms behind her back and chuckled lightly. "For a stranger, you have too much faith in me," she teased, her tone light. "There's still time for me to prove you wrong about whether or not I'm a šupak."

He thought for a moment, then began. “I’m an only child, and probably more diplomatic than most of the orcs you’ll meet. I like to cook, I know a bit about healing, and I have a furry friend kind of like your tigers.” He smiled at her again, his eyes warm. “What else would you like to know?”
She tilted her head slightly, considering what to ask him, but before she could, they reached their destination—a plain wooden door at the end of an empty hallway.

"No one really comes this way," she explained, turning the handle. Behind the door, a set of poorly lit spiral stairs wound upward. "I promise it's not as sketchy as it looks."

Uhtred wasn’t sure what the word “sketchy” meant, but he hesitantly followed as Andira led the way up the stairs, the soft sound of their footsteps echoing in the narrow space. At the top, she stopped and tugged on another door, using her strength to pry it open. Inside was a circular room with large, arched windows and a glass ceiling. The walls were adorned with plants and canvases—some blank, others painted. A bright rug covered the floor, surrounded by cushions in various colors.

"Up here, you can see the stars at night and most of Necai." Andira’s gaze drifted toward the windows, as it often did when she was in this room. She knew she’d miss this view when she left, the thought sitting heavily in her chest.

Turning her attention back to Uhtred, she offered a small smile. "I'll start off easy for you—what's your favorite place to unwind back home?"

Uhtred hesitated for a moment, but followed her into the room. As he moved around, he gently touched the plants and lingered over the canvases before finally making his way to the window. He gazed out over the city, clearly impressed by the view.

"Hmm, our capital is by the ocean, so the beaches are nice. There’s this cove that’s tricky to reach, it's where I go when I need to be alone." He paused, eyes distant for a moment, before adding, "I also enjoy riding through the forests. Dhuma is large, mostly desert, but my father only leads the orcs, not the entire kingdom. Some think he should challenge for the throne since the process is similar to ours. I've heard Ankhora is as grand as this."

He glanced back at her, curious. "Do you ever go out into your city? The castle seems very secluded from the rest of your people. It’s not like that where I’m from. Everyone knows everyone. Our home is more... central, like the heart of the city, not meant to put us above others. I—" Uhtred hesitated, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right phrase. "I don't know how to say it well... it's not the same here." His gaze shifted to the paintings. "Did you paint these?"

Andira watched as he carefully explored the room. She wasn’t used to letting people see her private sanctuary, but somehow, with Uhtred, it didn’t feel as strange as she’d expected. Jana would throw a fit if she knew her sister was already getting along with Uhtred. The thought almost made her smile.

Andira moved to the middle of the room, sinking onto one of the cushions. “It does seem very different," she replied, nodding. "I go into the city maybe once or twice a month. Festivals, holidays, or when parts of the city are invited here. Sometimes, I go just for a change of scenery, but I need permission.”

She glanced out the window, her expression darkening slightly. “I can’t go into the city whenever I want—it isn’t safe. While many love the king, there are those who don’t, or those who would seize an opportunity. And while I can defend myself, in an ambush, there isn’t much I could do. A princess would fetch a high price on the black market.”

Uhtred smiled slightly, moving away from the window to sit on a cushion a few feet from Andira. He leaned back on his hands, studying her, noting the quiet grace in her features—so different from what he was used to.

"That's interesting," he mused aloud. "I don’t have much experience with humans outside of translating for my father. I speak a few languages, but Necaian is the one I’m best at after my own." He paused, glancing again at the paintings before continuing. "Hopefully, you'll find some inspiration in Kheben, our capital."

Andira nodded thoughtfully at Uhtred’s sentiment, her mind wandering to the thought of Kheben. As much as she hated the idea of leaving Necai, Kheben would soon be her new home. The more she thought about it, the more anxious she grew.

Her lips quirked into a teasing smile after a moment. “That was two questions,” she pointed out, before her gaze softened. “But also, yes, I paint when I can. With a view like this, how could I not feel inspired?” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, before settling on the scars visible through his open shirt. “You have a lot of scars. Here, that usually means someone likes to fight—or gets into trouble. How did you get them?” Her fingers twisted the rings around her finger absently as she looked up at Uhtred, waiting for his answer.

Andira’s question made Uhtred pause, his brow furrowing slightly as he dropped his gaze, considering how to respond. “The scars are mostly from battle. Among my people, they’re a mark of survival, not just trouble,” he explained, his voice thoughtful. “Orcs fight. It’s part of life. Some of these are from training, others from real combat. But...”

He hesitated, his fingers grazing one of the scars absently before continuing. “Among my people, I’m... small. Growing up the smallest in a society that values strength in combat wasn’t easy.”

Andira watched him closely, sensing the weight behind his words. “Small?” she repeated, tilting her head slightly. “You seem plenty large to me,” she said, her tone half-joking, but she quickly softened. “But I understand what you mean. Orcs are... different.” She straightened slighty. “So, you volunteered for this?” she asked, her gaze more focused now. “You don’t want to marry for love or attraction? Or whatever other excuses people use to marry who they want?”

"That's three questions," Uhtred replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He took a moment to consider them before answering. "I did," he admitted. "But, I am not what my people consider attractive. To them, I am small... weak, even, in the eyes of other orcs. My father's position affords me some leeway, and I’ve found other ways to be useful. But I’ve never been under the illusion that the women of my people would find me a suitable mate."

He paused, his gaze flicking to the window as if gathering his thoughts. "When marriage was proposed as a way to unify the kingdoms, I volunteered. It’s a chance for me to benefit my clan. My position makes this an agreeable match, and my father has already planned for me to remain on the council even after the treaty is signed. It offers both of us some security, since leadership can change so easily among the orcs."

Uhtred glanced at her, his expression serious. "The fact of the matter is, orc or human, I am first choice for neither. But with our marriage, I can help my people and, I hope, make you happy as a husband. I don’t want you to be miserable with me."

He stood up, taking a deep breath. "I’ll make sure you can read and paint, even if I have to build you a library myself. I won’t ask for more than one child, and only because it’s expected of us. I’ll provide for and protect you until my last breath, once we’re wed."

There was a moment of silence as Uhtred seemed to contemplate saying more. His gaze lingered on the window, the weight of his words hanging between them. Finally, he turned back to Andira, his expression softening. "I’m sorry you can’t marry for love. I hope, one day, you can forgive me for taking that from you."

Without giving her a chance to respond, Uhtred dipped his head respectfully. "I’ve been traveling for a long time. I think I should get some rest before whatever festivities your father has planned for tonight. I enjoyed speaking with you, Princess."

Andira opened her mouth to say something, but he was already heading for the door, disappearing down the spiral stairs where the guards awaited. She sat there, staring at the intricate pattern of the rug beneath her feet, her thoughts racing.

She immediately felt bad. She understood why he saw himself that way, but she didn’t think he was unattractive at all. Perhaps it was because they had spent time together or something else, but commenting on it now wouldn’t sound genuine. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she pitied him.

It was true that she didn’t want this marriage—she hadn’t volunteered for it. But it wasn’t as though she had been waiting for the love of her life, either. She had simply wanted the choice of who and when. But Uhtred’s words stirred something in her that she hadn’t expected. He was... considerate. Most men wouldn’t have bothered to get to know her, let alone consider her feelings or make promises like the ones Uhtred had.

She was left feeling dumbfounded. She watched the doorway where he had disappeared, still unsure of what she would have said, even if she’d had the chance.

Andira sighed, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her head on them. She stayed like that for a moment, reflecting on her conversation with Uhtred. There was a heaviness in her heart she hadn’t expected. After a while, she finally stood, feeling the weight of her thoughts, and left the room. Her guard followed her back to her quarters, silent as always.

When she entered her room, she closed the door behind her only to find a surprise waiting inside. Ebele, her half-sister, sat casually, seemingly unbothered by the intrusion. They weren’t what Andira would call close, so to see her here was unexpected.

“Andira,” Ebele greeted smoothly, her voice carrying an air of familiarity that felt out of place.

“Ebele,” Andira replied, her tone neutral, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

“You were gone for a while,” Ebele noted, standing up slowly. Her eyes flicked over Andira as though assessing her.

“Yes. I was giving Uhtred a tour.” Andira folded her arms across her chest, her suspicion deepening. “What are you doing here?”

Ebele smiled faintly, stepping closer. “Hm. Well, we’ve had our differences, but unlike Jana, you’ve always been tolerable.”

Andira raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Ebele reached into her robe, producing a small, ornate bottle. “A gift,” she said, pressing it into Andira’s hand.

Andira pulled her hand back slightly, eyeing the bottle with distrust. “What is this?”

“An act of mercy,” Ebele replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t give them an heir, and they’ll grow tired of you.” Her tone was calm, as if she were discussing something as trivial as the weather. “Use it or don’t. But don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Andira stared at the bottle, her mind reeling as Ebele turned to leave, her parting words hanging in the air. She watched her sister disappear through the door, feeling a mixture of confusion and unease. Glancing back at the bottle in her hand, she weighed its implications

With a sigh, she walked over to the chest in her room and tossed the bottle inside. Whatever Ebele’s intentions, Andira wasn’t ready to confront them. She needed to focus on the evening ahead, on being mentally prepared for whatever the night’s festivities would bring.