Fiona
That damn orc was still outside.
It's been two weeks, nearly three, and he still hasn't budged. Every morning like clockwork, he shows up and sits in the mud outside the door, unmoving, until the sun sets. Then he disappears for the night and the whole thing starts over again.
At first the patrons had given him a wide berth, but as the days passed, he'd become just part of the tavern and nobody paid him any mind.
Nobody except Mable and I.
The other girls thought it was cute that he was madly in love with me, but I was terrified. I'd heard the stories about the orcs and their history with human women.
Which to him is what I am.
But.. he never called me a girl. He only ever called me, him.
Which poses another problem.
Several of the patrons had noticed and it had taken days to resolve it. Mable had been loudly saying that the orc is confused and had mistaken me for someone else.
Most of the patrons seemed to accept that answer, but a few still gave me disgusted looks. Nobody would do anything about their suspicions though. Not as long as I was still under Mable's roof.
"He still there?" Mable asks.
I sigh and drop the curtain, blocking my view of the clearly depressed orc and go back to cleaning off tables, "yup."
"You'd think he would have taken the hint by now," she muses. "Him and the other one."
By 'the other one' Mable meant the one that was infatuated with her.
After the orcs had left, there had been a new iron spoon hanging on the front door the next morning, identical to the one Mable had bent over the large orcs head. That hadn't been the only gift he'd left either. A matching roasting fork had showed up the next morning, followed by a large carving knife, a hefty skillet, ceramic cups, pots, pans, and even a new roasting spit for the large fireplace. Today's delivery had been a very large keg of wine made by the elves.
"At least yours brings you gifts," I try and joke. But it falls flat, both of us knowing full well that the only gift I'd want from the orc is to be left alone. "Maybe I should talk to him," I suggest and not for the first time.
"No, Fi," Mable says tiredly. "We've been over this."
"I know," I sigh. "I just.. I feel kind of bad for him. Maybe if I talk to him, explain things, then he can get closure and move on."
"Or," she argues. "It will give him false hope and he will never leave."
My eyes go back to the window and to the orc beyond it, "he's not leaving now though. Maybe yours can talk to him?"
"Trust me, I've tried," she grumbles. "But all Ozog wants to do is buy me things and fuck." She pauses before adding, "which isn't such a bad deal if I really think about it."
"Oh so you can have an orc and I can't?" I snap. Taking a deep breath, I apologize, "sorry Mable. I'm just stressed and tired."
"Go to bed," she orders gently. "Take the night off."
"I didn't mean.."
"I know," she assures me. "Now go on."
I nod and set down my rag, heading towards the stairs that lead to our rooms. I give Mable one last apologetic look before climbing the steps and shuffling along to my room. As I close the door, I can hear the first patrons shouting as Mable opens the doors.
Thankfully our rooms are pretty soundproofed and as soon as my door shuts, I'm left in blessed silence.
But even silence can be deafening.
Try as I might, I can't get comfortable enough to sleep. Not with everything on my mind. There's so many questions and only one person can answer them.
Which is why I'm sneaking out of my window at midnight to go talk to an orc.
Because what could possibly go wrong there?
It wasn't hard to find his inn, it was the only one in town. His room, on the other hand, was a different story. I hadn't exactly paid attention to what door was his when I made my escape.
But luckily, or not, the other orc was in the main area of the inn when I entered. He didn't seem surprised to see me, he just nodded towards the stairs, "top floor second on the left."
"Thanks," I mutter as I head up the stairs.
I'm not sure how long I stood outside his door before I finally knocked, but my fist hardly grazed the door before it was yanked open, my orc standing on the other side with a hopeful expression.
"You came," he grins.
"We need to talk," I tell him with more confidence than I actually had.
Pushing past him, I enter the small room. My plan had been to sit at the table that's usually in each room of an inn, but his didn't have one. So instead, I picked a spot by the wall, close enough to the door that I could run out if needed.
"I won't hurt you," he tells me as he notices my somewhat strategic spot. "I would never."
"What do you want with me?" I ask. It was the most pressing question in my mind.
"To be my husband," he says simply. "You are my mate, we belong together."
"Husband?" I whisper. Louder I say, "I'm a girl."
He glanced at my serving dress and back to my face, "you don't seem like a female."
I look down at myself, eyeing my cleavage and then back up to him, "have you never seen a woman before? Because this," I motions to myself. "Is the body of one."
His eyes scrunch in confusion, "why were you in male clothes if you're a female? Isn't that sort of thing frowned upon here?"
"Yep, I'm just a rule breaker," I tell him. "I cause trouble wherever I go. Definitely not husband material so you might as well just move along and find a different person."
A smile dances on his lips, "you said husband."
"Whatever," I groan. "My point is, I'm not a good fit for you. I don't like being told what to do, I hate traveling and fighting, I'm not a very good cook, can't keep house, and don't want kids. I'm not exactly a catch, Orcsy."
He pauses before saying, "and you are a male trapped in a females body."
"I.. what?"
He nods, "for your list. That should be on there." He shrugs as he continues, "but none of those things are deal breakers for me. I also do not like the traveling or fighting, I will do the cooking and cleaning, I will only order you around in the bedroom and we can discuss the idea of kits in a few years. I also do not care that you are different, I rather like that my mate is unique."
All I can do is stare at him. He said it all so easily, as if he really meant what he said. As if he really didn't care that I was different. He just.. accepted it.
Accepted me.
Maybe I had misjudged him. "What's your name?" I ask. If we were going to figure this out we might as well be on a first name basis.
"I am Kruk," he says proudly. "Kruk Oakshield."
"Fiona," I tell him.
He shakes his head, "that is a female name. You are not female."
"I am though," I try to say. "I was born a girl. I was given a girls name."
He sighs, "your body does not make you who you are. Your mind does. Do you have the mind of a female?"
"Well, no," I admit. My heart races as I say those words, as I admit something that could potentially get me killed, to an almost perfect stranger.
He nods, "then you are a male. So what is your name?"
"Finn."
This time when I tell him, he hums happily, "Finn. Finn. Yes, this is a good name. My mate Finn."
"I'm not your mate."
He snorts, "you are."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"No!"
"Yes!" He says loudly. Suddenly he's in front of me, his large body blocking out everything but him, "you are my mate. I know it in my bones, I feel it in my soul. You are mine and I am yours, little mate. There is no denying it."
"I do," I tell him shakily. I wasn't afraid of him, not really, but more so afraid of what his words meant. "I don't.. want a mate."
"Don't want or never let yourself want?" He asks gently, his hand coming up to cup my face.
"I.."
I didn't have an answer. The damn orc had me there.
"Why.. would you want me?" I ask him. "I'm not.. normal."
"You are normal," he hums. "You are my mate, Finn, and anyone who tries to hurt you will have to go through me."
"Why?" I breathe out.
His dark eyes were locked onto mine, holding me captive as his thumb strokes my cheek. For some reason, I didn't move out of his grasp. His hand was warm and oddly reassuring despite the fact that he could crush my head with it.
He smiles gently, his tusks framing his mouth and I wonder if they make it hard to kiss, and then I wonder if they make it hard to do.. other activities.
"You are my mate," he says again, emphasizing each word. "Mates are special, to be cherished and protected. It is our way. Whether you like it or not, we are mates, and if you'll let me, I would like to properly court you according to your human customs."
His eyes were so sincere, so earnest, that I didn't have the heart or the will to tell him no.
"Fine," I answer. "But, you have to get past Mable first."