Rogar, Saying Goodbye

The pounding at the door set Rogar's heart to racing before he was awake to hear it. He untangled himself from Karla and rummaged for his pants, wanting to die with them on, if it came to that. Karla stirred sleepily, unconcerned with the state of her soul.

When he opened the door, Rogar had to drop his gaze a foot to see who the encroacher was, and it was the last person he might have guessed.

"By the ancients, you're worse than a sharp-tongued harridan of a wife, d'ye know that?" He demanded, hand raised against the piercing glare of the snow.

"Rainath said you'd be here, the poor girl," Jade set in at once, scowling fit to chase a bear.

Rogar swung the door shut in her face, curious whether it would be an effective way to end the onslaught. She shoved back at it and he groaned, holding it wedged against her boot with a casual elbow while he scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Who is it?" Karla asked curiously, pulling a fur robe over Rogar's own shirt.

"My sister," he answered, apologetic, embarassed by the scene.

"Oh," she answered brightly, "well let's have her in, then," she urged warmly, turning to stoke the fire. Rogar allowed himself a heavy sigh before he complied.

"Do come in," he said tightly, pulling the door wide just as Jade threw her weight against it. The momentum carried her inward, to stand awkwardly on the rug, her boots caked in mud and crusted with ice.

"Good morning," greeted Karla, unfazed. Rogar growled in disgust and went out to piss.

"Take off your boots, Jade," he chided wearily, when he returned to find her unmoved. Jade blushed a half-shade and obeyed her brother by reflex, eyes holding on to their anger throughout.

"Are ye any good at making kaf?" Karla asked pleasantly, setting the water to heat. Jade stared, dumbstruck, face cycling through shades normally only seen on Rainath. Rogar gave her a gentle push toward the chairs by the hearth, muttering, "no, she's not."

Jade resisted, but grudgingly allowed herself to be bullied into a chair.

"I'm terrible at it, myself," confided Karla. "I thought you might have your brother's knack," as if on cue, Rogar initiated the process of brewing a pot. Watching his familiarity in this strange, married, woman's house made Jade's stomach turn.

Rogar had grown used to the force of Karla's personality knocking his feet out from under him, but it was queerly satisfying to watch it happen to his sister. He pulled an ottoman aside to man his kaf-station without getting caught in the crossfire, and Karla struck up a one-sided round of small talk while Jade simply sat and stared, her face cycling between outrage and disgust.

On the list of people he felt shamed to face shirtless beside his mistress, Rogar found that his bratty sister fell blessedly low. He poured three cups though he knew Jade didn't care for it, handed Karla hers, and savored his with a mind that was largely untroubled by the angry glare levelled at him. He wondered if he'd only just truly ascended to manhood.

"Why've ye come?" Karla asked not unkindly, when her conversation ran dry. Jade's mouth worked angrily, searching for the words.

"You," she finally spat, "and my brother-"

"Are adults," pointed out Karla, in a reasonable tone.

"Aye, married adults, and he's a girl he brought home and abandoned, to run here-"

"I met Rainath, last night," Karla said evenly, taking the wind from Jade's sails, "and I was under the impression that we all understood she and Rogar were not bonded?" She raised an inquiring eyebrow at Jade, but it was Rogar who nodded from behind his mug.

"So," continued Karla, sipping her kaf.

Whatever she might have said was interrupted by the sudden clamor and piercing glare of the front door cracking open. Rogar rose by reflex, thinking the wind had blown it in. When he saw the shadow blot the doorway, he muttered an oath, his manhood theory gone out the window.

"Rogar, good. Thought I smelled kaf," greeted Tyron genially, leaning one hand heavily on the doorframe to drag his feet from his boots. He looked down at the extra pair of feminine footwear quizzically, and back up to perform a head count.

"Hello," he said politely to Jade, joining them in the parlor. After a moment's consideration he added, "you'll be Cathon's wife, is that it? Well met," he nodded in respect to her husband's station.

"Aye," Jade said roughly, looking horrified. Ty frowned and appraised the scene critically.

"Well the lass might be more comfortable if the two of ye weren't lounging about in a state of undress," he reproached, holding a hand out to his wife.

"We weren't expecting her," defended Karla casually, heeling naturally to her husband's silent call.

He drew her in to share an intimate pause, head bent to hers. "Hullo, darling," she murmured, and he pressed a long kiss to her forehead, just along her hairline.

"It's good to be home," he told her, voice gravelly with affection. Then at a more conversationally gruff tone he added, "Go take off yer trophy, and get the man a clean shirt," jerking his head toward the bedroom and releasing her hand. He growled it, but there was no steel to his words. Karla sauntered away from him, giving him time to reacquaint himself with the sway of her hips. Rogar forced himself to meet Tyron's eye and nod before he sidled after her.

"There," barked Tyron with satisfaction, claiming his wife's chair and Rogar's ottoman for his feet. He tested the pot and found it full, claiming a cup and filling it cheerfully. Jade felt as mortified as she'd seen Rainath look at their dinner table.

"Now, what's the trouble, lass?" He asked, looking over at her with a kind smile.

***

"Gods, almighty!" Swore Rogar, when the bedroom door was shut. Karla giggled the giggle of a reckless maniac and stripped, digging in a chest for a fresh set of clothes, unapologetically nude amid a tangled web of interpersonal nightmares.

"Ty will straighten your sister out, now," she murmured, eyes sparkling. "We should take our last chance to-" she cut her gaze teasingly to the bed and Rogar shushed her, horrified, seizing his abandoned shirt.

"No," Karla stopped him, hand tugging it away as he began to shove his arm in. "He won't want you to smell of me," she whispered, smiling naughtily, handing him one of Tyron's own shirts. It hung on him like a sail, but he wasn't amind to be critical of fashion as he tucked it in and belted his pants firmly.

The suicidal lunatic took her time dressing, straightening her hair, adding a dab of perfume and even stopping to strip the bed for good measure, bundling the soiled bedding away and spreading fresh linens on the mattress, fluffing the gods be damned pillows no less, before she turned and nodded with a bright smile that he should open the door.

***

"If you're going to challenge my brother," Jade began nervously, palms sweaty. "I'd ask that ye bear in mind-" Tyron's deep chuckle interrupted her appeal.

"I haven't the right to challenge him," Tyron dismissed casually, "and it would be a damned shame to kill a man that makes kaf like that. Why, is he going to challenge me?" He inquired conversationally, eyebrows raised. Jade ogled like he'd grown a second head.

"How you can say ye don't have the right, when you've just come home and found your wife in his shirt-" belatedly, Jade realized she shouldn't dig her brother's grave any deeper. She snapped her jaw shut, and her face flamed.

"There's no need to flaunt it, aye?" Ty implored, feigning sensitivity, eyes twinkling with humor reminiscent of his wife's.

The two of them had been behind the closed door a long time, and Jade wondered how long Tyron's patience would hold. He had no trouble pinpointing the source of her anxiety.

"I've no plans to raise a hand to either one of them, n'matter how long they're shuttered up in there," he vowed, hand on his heart. Jade grimaced awkwardly, the heat in her face doubling.

"I don't know how you can stand it," she muttered, voice barely audible. Tyron gave her a long look and reached for his whiskey, pulling the stopper loose and holding the flask out to her. She took it and had a quick sip straight from the bottle, handing it back directly. He put the bottle to his lips and matched her drink, setting it aside again.

"I don't know why it bothers you," he told her evenly, holding her gaze comfortably with his, making her nerves throb with social discomfort. The liquor made her lips tingle, and gave her a rush of bravado she'd been lacking.

"It seems a sick triangle, for one," she testified slowly, "and for another, I was- am- afraid you'll break his stupid, fool neck."

"A triangle it is," he agreed, refilling his cup, "and one of the three, you're not. I've given ye my word I won't kill him, so I'll ask again why you're bothered." He peered into her cup but didn't add to the undrank serving she'd left to grow cold. Jade fidgeted restlessly, poking at the fire.

"He's my brother, and I don't like it," she finally muttered, staring into the flames to avoid his eye. His answering chuckle was not unkind.

"Aye, there's times I don't like it either," he commiserated humorously, having another drink and passing the bottle to her. This time she took a longer measure before handing it back.

"Then why-" she started, silencing herself with a frown. Tyron smiled at her attempted self-control.

"Where I come from, Rogar had the right to take her as spoils when her husband challenged him and fell," he told her in a neutral voice, nodding toward his closeted wife.

"And he was spoils to her, when she had his virginity," he continued in explanation, drawing a startled look from Jade. "Oh, ye didn't know? Well, there ye are." He took a cheerful slurp of kaf, as though that settled it.

The bedroom door opened and the two of them emerged, looking shameless enough to make Jade blush on their behalf.

"Ah, good man. I thought I'd have t'refill the pot myself," Tyron welcomed, budging his chair over and forfeiting Rogar's stool. If Rogar felt afraid to sit at the man's left hand, Jade thought he did a remarkable job of keeping his hands steady as he prepared another pot.

"So as ye see," Tyron summarized comfortably, as Karla claimed a seat adjacent to Jade, "I'm rightfully second to him, but he yields to her, and she's my wife so she'll submit to me. If I wanted Rogar dead, I could force her to order him to challenge me, so I can fairly kill him, by clan law. But that seems terrible unmanly," Tyron told her in a confiding tone, winking.

"Being a cuckold seems unmanly," muttered Jade, too far in the bottle. Rogar gave her a horrified glare, and Karla's eyebrow cocked dangerously.

"That's rude," warned Tyron, voice losing an octave of its good humor. Rogar handed Karla her cup and refilled her husband's, happy to keep out of it, for once.

"You might not remember me, lass," he told her, taking a careful drink, patience waning slightly. "But I remember you well enough, legs swinging from the rail of the sparring pit while your poor brother was beat half to death every other day by fools you'd played the slut for, and then wanted to be free of." Jade blanched, snapping her mouth shut to keep it from hanging agape. Karla and Rogar were hard-pressed not to do the same.

"And aye," went on Ty, without malice, "I do bear in mind that he half raised ye, and finished building his mother's forge when your da died, and kept house for a widow for four years, all before he'd even made his rites of manhood." He punctuated his sermon with a gratified gulp of hot kaf.

"I've no doubt I could kill your brother, if he challenged me," Tyron went on evenly, "but I've seen him fight hard and defeat better men, more than once, because he refused to lose your right to choose your marriage. You may not respect him for that, but I do, and I'd just as soon avoid the chance of getting holes in my hide." Jade felt the bottom had dropped out of her stomach as she heard Tyron's witness against her character.

"So aye," he concluded sternly, looking around at all of them and then back to Jade. "I could order an end to this, if I wished. But if it makes my wife happy, and it eases my clanbrother's soul just a bit... I've always felt my manhood could stand the blow, after what life dealt you, as a lad." He finished with his words directed at Rogar, ending with a nod of respect that the younger man returned.

"I didn't know you'd seen me fight," Rogar told the other man, casually, when the moment had passed. Tyron chuckled. "Aye, I always laid gold on ye, when you were in there," he confessed, humor returning. "I only saw ye lose the once, and they wouldn't let him kill ye, cause ye weren't rited, and you were drunk-" Rogar frowned, shaking his head in failed recollection.

"I remember," Jade said quietly, recognition dawning. "You stepped in," she said to Ty, frowning slightly, face heating like iron in her forge.

"He was from outside the clan, and so was I," Tyron shrugged. "Seemed a good way to ingratiate myself. I knew Karla was sweet on ye, and it turned her head to me," he elbowed Rogar in coded innuendo, chuckling.

"Have ye got a pipe, Rogar?" Ty asked easily, patting his pockets.

"Aye," Rogar told him, producing one from somewhere Jade didn't see. She wondered where he'd gotten it, mind feeling warped by the twisted domesticity they were all sharing.

"That's a nice one," Ty complimented, packing it with dried herb and handing it back.

"Aye," Rogar agreed quietly, lighting it. "I took it off the brother at the lodge." He said, answering his sister's unspoken question. He looked down at it consideringly and passed it to Ty, covering his emotions with a long drink of kaf.

"I have to go," blurted Jade, all but darting for the door.

"Wait," Rogar told her, catching up as she was shoving her feet into her boots. "Here," he told her, holding out his shirt. She looked down at it without understanding. "This shirt is Cat's," he told her, holding it out until she took it by reflex, "I borrowed it yesterday, when I came round for tea. Will ye tell him thank you for me?" Jade nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry you hate me," he muttered.

"I don't hate you," she told him, resentfully. "I hate... this," she gestured at their surreal backdrop, "I hate that you hate yourself."

Rogar looked back and shifted akwardly.

"I'm trying to do that a bit less," he told her. Jade nodded, and was gone.

***

Cathon was at the table for tea, when she got home.

"Can I talk to ye?" she asked him, inclining her head toward their bedroom.

"What is that?" He asked dubiously of the rag in her hands, after the lock was turned.

"A shirt. Your shirt," she told him, holding it out. He didn't take it.

"You lent it to my brother. He said thank you," his shoulders eased a notch.

"Ah, of course," he smiled, reaching out to accept it.

"Karla was wearing it, when I got there," she said in the tone of someone who's had a shock, and he snatched his hand back.

"Oh, Jade," her husband sympathized.

"Then Tyron got home, and told her to take it off," she continued, arm going slack to let the shirt hit her thigh. Cathon winced.

"I shamed myself, going over there," she said quietly, biting her lip and looking up at him.

"Aye, I imagine ye did," Cat told her, eyes filled with pity. He sighed.

"Put it on," he told her, struggling to inject the right note of command in his voice.

"What?" She asked, confused.

"I said, put it on," he repeated, voice firming.

"It's dirty," she told him with distaste.

Her husband gave her a flat look.

"It's my shirt, and you won't make me say it again," he warned. She moved to put her arm into the sleeve, and he stopped her with a curt sound.

"W'out your clothes, if ye please," he told her patiently. She grimaced again, stripping her clothes and pulling his shirt over her upper body. When she'd finished she stood bare-legged and barefoot on the wood floor, trembling faintly as she faced him.

"Now what would ye do that, for?" Cathon demanded gently, voice reproachful. He took a seat in their bedroom chair and beckoned her closer, to sit on the edge of their bed.

"Rainath and I were at the forge, and she said he'd taken her to the lodge last night," her husband's eyebrows hitched a surprised notch, "and that Karla came and told Rogar to walk her to the forgehouse. That she'd wait."

Privately Cathon thought that sounded exactly like something Karla would do.

"That's a fine bit o' gossip," he acknowledged, making her blush. "Was Rainath upset?" Jade shrugged.

"I couldn't tell,"

"Then she wasn't, because the girl's face shows what she's thinking clear as glass lake," scoffed Cathon lightly. "So why did ye pay it any mind?"

"I wanted Rogar to come home, last night," she admitted quietly.

"He did, and you insulted him," pointed out her husband ruthlessly. She flinched.

"I didn't think he should have taken Rainath to the lodge, and then-"

"What, walk her home, like a gentleman? Rogar's enough status in this community to escort a woman anywhere he likes," he reminded her firmly.

"...and then go to her," Jade finished defiantly, provoking a hard look from her husband.

"Does my shirt smell of her?" He goaded quietly.

"Aye," she answered, skin crawling.

"And him?" She made a face.

"Why does that bother you, Jade?"

"He's my brother," she defended.

"Aye, he is," Cathon agreed sternly. "Makes it a bit queer, to be wearing a shirt he's been rutting in, no? Yet you've run after him this morning, and shamed him like a jilted wife at the door of his mistress."

"How would ye feel if it was me that had been the night with another woman, in that shirt?" He asked in dangerous tones. Jade recoiled, giving him a briefly hateful look.

"So ye do know the difference between your husband and your brother," he observed approvingly. "But you seem to forget that we're both men, grown. I do ye the honor of keeping myself to you only, but if you ever came banging down the door of another woman's house to find me, I'd strap you in the street." She looked startled at him, it was a fairly severe threat from her mild-mannered husband, and dangerously clairvoyant of him.

"Is Rogar going to the pits with Tyron?" Cathon asked her, voice weighted with concern. Jade shook her head to the negative.

"They were... friendly. It was sick," she shuddered faintly. Cat looked surprised, but he settled in his chair, relieved that they weren't going to do violence to one another.

"That's different," he commented mildly, "and Karla?"

"...is a whore," growled Jade, unrepentant. Cathon arced his eyebrow dangerously and made a low noise in his throat.

"Tyron said he'd no intent to do either of them harm, if that's what ye mean," she sulked.

"Ye spoke to him, eh?"

"Aye. We had kaf," she said with an ironic flourish.

"And did he tell ye why he had no plans to do murder today?" Cat asked curiously. She nodded, biting her lip.

"He said they'd rights to each other, and that he respected Rogar enough to... let it go." She couldn't bear to tell him what Tyron had said about her teen years.

"Well there you have it," Cathon said, as though the matter was resolved. "If he can let it go, why not you?"

"I don't know!" She exclaimed harshly, eyes welling. "I feel like she stole my brother from us. If he hadn't been involved with her, he would have never left." She folded her arms over her chest, petulent as the sixteen year old the resentment came from.

"Don't shout at me, Jade," Cat pleaded gently.

"How old were ye, when Radok fell?"

"Ten," she muttered, shrugging.

"And what d'ye know of it?" He asked quietly.

"That my brother killed him in a challenge, probably because of her. But he wasn't rited, so they couldn't marry. Karla hounded him with the debt over her husband's life until he couldn't stand it, and my da died-,"