The Orc King Ch 01 1

~ Please look at the tags before proceeding to ensure there are no unwelcome surprises. ~

|Chapter One: The Wedding|

Princess Astera stood naked and shivering in the centre of the palace gardens. Moonlight danced across the cobblestone path, just enough to make out the bobbing shapes of the leafy plants around her. The lack of light didn't seem to bother the two orc women who worked around her. They painted her body in strange symbols with a reddish stain. She fidgeted anxiously when a brush twirled around one of her breasts.

"Be still!" One of the orc women ordered her. The pointed tips of the woman's tusks were barely noticeable until she sneered in Astera's direction. They were so horribly sharp looking they could have passed for fangs. Fear washed over her every time she caught sight of them.

"Don't be so harsh," the other orc woman chided. She gave Astera a comforting smile. Her skin was a paler grey compared to the other orc woman's dark green. She shot her companion a sidelong glare, "The Princess is simply nervous. Do not worry, we will make you beautiful for King Volen."

A shiver rippled down her spine at the mention of her soon-to-be husband.

The Orc King

. She had imagined her wedding a hundred different ways. Always a political alliance. It was to be expected, as the Daughter-Heir of the Sarai Empire.

But marrying the Orc King...

"How long will the ceremony be?" she asked. Anything to distract herself from facing the inevitable.

The two orc women exchanged glances. "Not as long as it should be. There will be no

Ishten

, no bridal scrimmage. Just the exchanging of vows."

She didn't dare ask what a bridal scrimmage was. She already regretted asking about the paint.

A map of all the places your mate must mark you

. The orcs were a brutal, secretive people. She knew very little what to expect from the ceremony. Her father had conceded to most of the orc's demands regarding the wedding. Including allowing the orc women to prepare and dress her for the ceremony; however they saw fit.

Once the paint was applied, the orc women dressed her in a gown of spider-silk. The gown was so thin it was almost translucent against her skin and pooled at her feet so that it would trail behind her when she walked. A veil was fixed over her face. Her cheeks flamed looking down at herself. For the Orc King's fealty, and his army, her father would give her away like a prized animal.

The three women began making their way from the gardens to the Fields of Remembering, where the ceremony was to take place. Behind them loomed the imperial palace, at the top of the craggy cliffs of the island.

As they made their way from the gardens down to the fields, she could see large stretches of the island laid out before her. The Fields of Remembering were swaths of grassy plains that surrounded the imperial grounds. The twinkling lights of the city of Thelfare were just visible on the horizon. Astera's eyes were drawn to the hundreds of tents covering the fields. Each flew the reddish banner of the orc king, Soarruk Volen.

The cobblestone path to the Fields of Remembering was lined by stone pillars supporting an arched lattice roof. Vines and grapes grew in the ceiling and dangled down around them. She had grown up attempting to climb these pillars, trying to steal grapes to annoy the servants. A lump lodged in her throat at the thought. Some of the pillars were crumbling with age, others from blackened pockmarks left by cannon fire.

There was a time when she had thought her father would lose the war against the demons. Ten years of bloodshed. The brutality had made it all the way to the gardens of the imperial household before they were able to put a stop to it. She knew her father's decision to ally with the orcs had not come lightly.

Marrying her off to an orc had not been an easy solution. The orcs had lived freely in the forests and mountains of Sarai since the beginning of her family's rule. They worshipped their own gods and king. Generations of rulers had been unable to bring the orcs under the imperial heel. Until the demons brought the war to their doorstep, and the orcs could no longer simply ignore the human's war.

The orcs had strength, speed and the ability to resist most magic. They agreed to join the Sarai Empire on one condition: When the orcs won the war, their king Soarruk Volen would claim

her

, the emperor's eldest daughter as his bride.

Astera considered the war, and other things as she was led through the flaps of the tent where she was to be married. She thought of the things her people had to endure: a decade of rationing, years of starvation and fear. She thought of rivers of blood and lakes of burning bodies left by the demons.

She tried to remember the sacrifices made by her people. It was a constant weight on her shoulders. As she walked through the entrance and knelt onto the plush pillow, she considered how small her sacrifice would be compared to theirs. It didn't stop her hands from shaking.

She had heard stories of what happened when orcs and humans crossed paths. The only reason they had not been at war during her lifetime was because humans were too busy fighting the demons.

The forests and mountains of Sarai belonged to the orcs. Whenever the humans encroached upon orc territories it led to conflicts. Which was often. Her hands tightened into fists at the thought. The orcs wouldn't even let starving families forage for wild berries in their forests.

Her soon-to-be husband had gained his reputation murdering his way to his throne. The previous orc king had stolen many human women as his consorts during his lifetime. None of them survived the coupling.

Everyone expected the same, or worse for her. She had heard people discuss her impending marriage like it was her death sentence.

If she survives, she'll be bred like an animal.

The thought made bile rise in her throat.

Around the room everyone was already seated. Her father sat on his solid carved-stone throne at the front of the tent. He radiated elegant power: sharp hollow cheeks and pinched lips. His stare was severe. He wore a mask of cool indifference.

To his left side, her mother sat on a square cushion. She was darker skinned than her father, coils of black hair half braided back from her face. Her mother barely glanced in her direction. Her dark purple gown blended into the shadows of the room. The Emperor of Sarai and the First Imperial High Consort.

The tent was otherwise full of everyone Astera knew and loved: all seven of her sisters, her little baby brother, her family elders, and her friends.

As she looked around the room, some people offered her reassuring smiles. Others looked away. She could see veiled looks of disgust and fear across the room. Her closest sisters shared her terror-stricken expression.

Her hands formed fists at her sides. She didn't want this to be the way her sisters remembered her, nearly unrecognisable covered in the strange markings and dress.

You are a beautiful ghost.

The Daughter-Heir of the Sarai Empire would face her death honourably. She held her chin up. She couldn't force herself to smile, but she could be strong for them just this once.

The ceremony began with airy string music and the throaty intonations of prayer. Her throat tightened with fear. Still, she remained seated, rooted to the pillow. The tent flaps pulled open. Behind her veil she squinted into the darkness. There he was. Her future husband.

She sucked in a deep breath as she took him in. He was more beast than man. Unlike the gentle orc women, orc men were massive. Soarruk Volen was tall and broad of shoulder. Her hands clenched tightly in her lap. It wasn't just the orc men's greenish hued skin and tusks that set them apart from human men. All orc men had four arms.

Even under his military robes she could see he was all muscle. His hands,

all four of them,

rested in fists at his size. He exuded an aura of authority unlike anyone else she had ever met. She had spent the past week or so reading of his accounts on the battlefield. She knew the violence he was capable of, the orc who had murdered thousands of demons on his own. It was terrifying, placing the face to the name she had been studying.

His black hair was a wavy mess around his face, only partially tamed by the imposing crown on his brow. It was made of gold, with two large twisting horns protruding from the top. They were laced with glittering gems.

Astera felt her vision waver. He was wearing formal military robes of sorts made of dark blood-coloured material. The breasts of the robes were brightly decorated in ribbons and symbols Astera could not understand. At his hip was a wickedly sharp black battle axe. The blade was easily the size of her head.

That was what she would face if she tried to escape and failed.

The famed weapon that had been used to chop up the body of Rhyomen, the self-proclaimed Demon King. The blade that had ended the ten-year war. King Volen was a war hero infamous for his brutality.

Her eyes caught on his uniform again, of the strange blackish triangle sewn into the material. Her stomach clenched when she realized what it was. It wasn't a rumour then. When he had cut off the head of the demon's king, he'd taken a trophy. A tooth.

He crossed the room in a few short steps. His lips were pulled into a scowl. Up close she could see how impressively sharp his fangs were. They jutted out on either side of his mouth. He came to kneel on the pillows in front of her. He was a head span taller than her even sitting, so that she had to crane her neck up to look at him.

The

human

part of the ceremony began with the Priestess of Light's blessing. The priestess stepped out of the shadows of the room, beginning her chant in a sing song voice. She wore tight-fitting silvery white robes, her face obscured by a thin hood. She kept her eyes down and averted.

Please, just look at me once,

Astera wanted to plead.

Help me.

When the priestess approached the couple with the binding ribbon her voice faltered slightly. Her eyes darted over the orc, clearly afraid to touch him.

"We must bind your hands." The priestess sounded almost apologetic.

His uppermost set of hands reached for Astera's. Her fingers disappeared under his grip. The priestess deftly tied their hands together using the ribbon. His hands were heavily scarred. She refused to flinch under his grip. Soarruk Volen's touch burned.

The Priestess of Light lifted Astera's veil. Her future husband stared down at her with an unreadable expression. His eyes had no whites, they were purely black without any colour. His eyes narrowed on her cheeks, and she thought she could see his glare darken. Indignation rose within her, enough to return his withering glare.

She spoke the binding words through gritted teeth, promising herself to him. She barely heard his response.

The priestess finished her blessing, and announced the ceremony concluded. Astera squeezed her eyes closed to prepare for the sealing kiss. Her body trembled all over. But it never came. The Orc King used his second set of clawed hands to slice through the ribbon binding them. He stood, hands pulling Astera to her feet as well.

An orc woman appeared before them. She held up a long flat box, bowing before King Volen. She opened the lid. Inside was a replica of the Orc King's crown, the golden horns shorter and inlaid with precious gems. Carefully, the orc woman lifted the crown from the box and placed it on Astera's brow.

"It is done then?" Soarruk Volen's voice was rough, slowly enunciating each word so that his meaning was clear even through his heavy accent. He was staring at her father.

The Emperor of Sarai gave the orc a brisk nod. He didn't look at Astera at all. "It is done."

King Volen began leading her out of the tent. A delayed applause followed them.

Under regular circumstances, there would be feasts and celebrations following the marriage ceremony. Astera knew better than to expect anything of the sort. She had once daydreamed of a great ball or festival for her wedding night. The end of the war had come swiftly though, and there was no time or leftover gold to plan a grand celebration. She had at least hoped for a hot meal and some silver-leaf wine to dampen her nerves.

She stumbled and then nearly fell when she took in the field. Seeing the hundreds of orc war tents over the Field of Remembering up-close was enough to make her already frayed nerves unsteady. An entire war party at the base of her home.

King Volen barely paused for her to catch up. He didn't speak as slowly to her as he had her father. "Must I drag you?"

She flinched at his words. The first thing her husband had said directly to her, and it was a threat. His eyes narrowed impatiently when she didn't answer right away.

"Where- Where are you taking me?" she asked.

The muscles in his jaw jumped. He stared out across the field. For a moment she thought he might just continue walking without her. But he pointed one clawed finger out to the largest yellow tent in the centre. "To complete the ceremony."

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she realized his meaning. He meant to take her back to his tent and consummate their marriage-

to take her whether she wanted it or not

. She shook her head rapidly, "But there's still feasts, and dancing-" Her voice died in her throat seeing the wicked grin spread across his face.

"Do not worry

Princess

, we won't be staying long. My home calls to me."

He reached out and took her hand, pulling her along before she could protest. She wanted to dig her heels into the mud and argue further, but her eyes caught on the gleaming battleaxe at his hip. She would have to pick her battles. Once she was among his people, she would find a way to escape.

The smoke from campfires filled the air, the smell of cooking meat making her already nervous stomach churn. The orc tents were squat and wide compared to the empire's. Up-close she could see the tent material was some kind of animal skin, jagged and tough looking. Sounds of celebrations, the noise of fighting, and shouting voices filled the air.

The orcs they passed stopped their duties and inclined their head to the king as he passed. None of them acknowledged their new queen as she was dragged behind him. Choruses of "

Nhyem

" followed them. Astera guessed it was the honorific they used for their ruler, or perhaps a greeting.

King Volen stared ahead as he walked. The tents and the orcs occupying them had made a muddy mess of the field. Astera stumbled several times when her slippers sucked into the deep mud. He didn't so much as pause for her.

One of her slippers came off. She turned to retrieve it, but he hissed and pulled her along faster. By the time they reached the largest tent she had lost both her slippers, and her dress was covered in mud.

He opened the tent flap and pulled her inside. The space was dimly lit. Three fat candles burned low in the corner of the room. The first thing she noticed was the large table in the centre of the room. It was strewn with maps and documents in the strange fae language of the orcs. The tent was surprisingly cool and smelled of grassy earth. The rest of the room was dominated by the bed.

The bed was surrounded by thin drapes. In the flickering candlelight she could see it was piled high with furs and blankets. Her hands flexed uneasily at her sides seeing it. Her mother and her grandmother had cornered her less than a week ago, explaining her

future responsibilities

to her husband in much more details than she had ever heard before.

She wasn't stupid- she knew exactly what sex was. But once the emperor's precious daughters reached the age of twelve, they were kept secluded in the palace, away from prying eyes. She had been twelve at the start of the war. Ten years hidden away within the palace walls. She had been taught that sex was simply for breeding. Or at least that's what she had naively assumed.

The orc woman's words of instruction in the garden came back to her.

The mating partners begin by undressing each other.

Her eyes widened as she watched the Orc King. He took off the leather strap holding his battle axe to his hips and hung it on a dresser.

"I wish for a hot meal, and a drink before we begin." Astera was even surprised how strong her voice sounded. "I want to celebrate-"

He chuckled, as if even he could hear the lie in her words. He turned to face her, taking a step forward. "If we are to be married, the rituals of my people must be complete. Then you may

celebrate

, if that is what you wish."

Astera shrank backwards. She didn't have a response to that. They both knew if she saw the opportunity for escape, she would run.

He was so much larger than her. His eyes roamed over her freely. She fought the urge to cover herself, to cross her arms over her breasts. Even in the low candlelight her dress left nothing to the imagination.

She would not cower yet. She trembled as he stepped closer. One of his arms came up to cage her against the wall of the tent. She squeezed her eyes closed, knowing there was no way to stop what was coming.

She had been kidding herself, thinking she could convince him to delay the inevitable. She had forgotten, in all the preparations for the wedding ritual, that she was no more than a war prize to the orc before her. She had no choice in when or how she might be taken.

He grasped one of her hands in his own, leading it to fastenings on the side of his robe. Using her hands, he pulled the fastening free, and the robe fell freely to the ground. Underneath he wore a linen shirt. The orc used her hands once more to slowly pull the leather strings at the top loose. Once his linen shirt was loosened, he pulled it off overtop his head.

Underneath, the orc was all hard planes of muscle. Scars covered his body, bright white or a darker green sheen depending on their age. He had a clean, masculine scent. He placed one of her hands against his chest. He was hot to the touch. His impressive body was a honed weapon.

She stared at him with open awe, nearly forgetting exactly what was happening. He was ruggedly handsome, but it was difficult to wrap her head around his different anatomy. Two sets of arms to hold her in place. With one of his other hands, he led her hand to the leather belt at his waist.

That brought her back to reality. She tried to rip her hand away, but the orc's grip only tightened until he was crushing her hand in his. She yelped in pain. Tears stung her eyes. She squirmed in his grip.

"Please! Please let me go," she begged.

His eyes narrowed. "You partook in your people's sacred marriage vows. They are sacred, yes?" He was still squeezing her hand. The throbbing pain was beginning to extend to her wrist.

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from screaming out. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her pain. "Yes, I swear it! Please, you'll break my hand!" She wheezed.

His grip loosened slightly. Just enough so that he was able to pull the leather fastening free. His trousers dropped to the ground. Astera pulled her hand back, gingerly gripping it and testing the bones were not broken.

He used a claw to lift her chin, distracting her from the throbbing in her hand. "I traded a thousand orc lives for your hand in marriage."

A thousand men was all he had lost in the war.

Traded for her.

It paled in comparison to the hundreds of thousands of soldiers her father had lost. Soarruk Volen led the deadliest army on the continent, likely the in the entire world. And now she would be

his

for the rest of her life.