You had little time to think outside of planting, weeding, bathing and eating. Meals and getting rid of the dirt covering your soles that you were scolded for after hours of being in the damp pastures were the only down time you had to yourself, not surrounded by the screaming nieces and nephews you were expected to take care of when the elder of your family members eventually passed from whatever disease ran rampant in the village the coming winter. You prepared your life, prepared for taking care of others and continuing your hard work in growing what you needed to survive, and selling what you didn’t. 

Unfortunately, that humdrum future was wiped out by swirling flames and the braying of stallions of mountainous size. They came in, trampling the greening cranberry bush you were planning to keep all to yourself, and the cabbages your family would have relied on for meals for the next two months before winter fell. 

Persimmon trees were burnt to crispy thorned stumps, the lush of your family’s acres now shredded to flecks of dead grass and muddy hoof prints, along with humanoid footsteps far too large to resemble any of the humans or disfigured hybrids in your teensy rural hamlet. Who were these unwelcomed strangers, the enormous creatures of the night that disrupted the only human civilization for miles around? You remained clueless for the entirety of being ripped out of your bed, continuing to be hauled over some olive-colored shoulder and thrown into a sack on the back of a wagon. 

“This one.” You heard, right before your dirty finger nails were pulled away from your twin beds fading sheets you desperately tried to keep. You had even managed to bring a small, lumpy pillow along with you, the creature that slung you over their shoulder leaving no assumption of a notice. You witnessed the still-burning remnants of your frail thatched home, as the silhouette of a muscular man lowered a flamed stick to its leftovers. 

The entirety of the bumpy ride to wherever your captors were bringing you to, you could only think of the fires holding onto the greenery of your land, of the dirt and rubble and smoke that clawed at your feet when you tripped into the wagon, burnt air choking you as a baby screamed out for its mother. 

Hours must’ve passed before you were brought into this musky, dank room with other fading faces from your village, but it only felt like a few moments ago that you heard the crackling of a fiery tree crushing rows of perking crops. 

The snapping of fingers nearly as grimy as your own blocked your recollection of clouded smoke and angry flames, bringing your attention back to the leather hut you sat domestically within. It was damp and dark inside, the light of torches outside being the only form of light. That, and the reflection of the metal on the warrior in front of you. He turned back, thumbing toward you as he looked at a similar creature.

“Agh, its no use, practically fucking deaf this one. Sure you don’t want one of the mothers?” 

The other orc slapped his fellow warrior on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. 

“No, my friend. Besides, sweet things’ only other option is Brutus. Don’t think he could last with one of these poor creatures without splitting it in two; ‘specially this one.” 

You were suddenly and acutely aware of the orcs conversation, now that your fate was being so clearly decided in front of you. 

The first, far sootier orc patted his fellow brethren on the chest as he turned away with a look that showed he was hardly convinced. Yet, he still walked out of the tented hut, ducking slightly to fit under it. 

You watched him leave, feeling a sense of relief as the threat had been removed. And yet, there was still one so prevelantly in front of you. 

“Hey there.” A guttural, almost faltering voice murmured to you. 

Eyes growing wide, you gripped harder onto the smushed pillow in your lap, instinctively leaning your upper body backward to get away from the orcish face right in front of you. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” The orc gruffed, falling to a crouch as he watches you slide to the edge of the hut’s leather wall. “Just wanna see you up close.”

He consumed the entirety of your fearful attention, his existence like a heavy weight in the room as the quiet tension aimed at him. You pushed your head painfully against a wood pole behind the leather walls, trying to morph your body any distance away that would provide you a miniscule fraction of comfort. But none came, especially not when a sudden warm finger pushed into your cheek. The green thumb pulled your upper lip, showing the ends of your teeth. Your other cheek smushed into your eye as the orc did the same to the other side, observing your poor excuse for chompers compared to his large, well-groomed tusks. 

“Guess these’ll do. You can atleast chew meat, right?” he pulled your jaw open gently, making your lips part. “Don’t wanna have to feed you like a baby bird; though, that wouldn’t be the worst of troubles.” 

You slapped his hand away, grimacing at the idea of being fed by this beast-creature. 

“I can eat perfectly fine.” You grumble, noticing how stiff the orcs arm was, still holding out beside your face as it rests dejected. “What does that matter, aren’t you going to eat me anyway?”

You keep a frown on your face, glaring up at the crouched brute. 

He let out a hearty laugh, those around you turning away from their miserable memories to face the strident disturbance. 

“So cute, as if you’d be enough to feed an orcling!” He let out another chestful of a laugh, grabbing at your cheek this time with a pinch. “My little to-be spouse, I knew you’d be worth the trouble.”

Wincing in pain, your fingers came up to try and pry his rough, printless thumb off your salty skin. 

“So adorable,” He throatily squealed, dragging you closer by the cheek to stumble into his chest. The only thing covering the caverned flesh of deep holes and ravined slices in his skin were straps of bull leather, and the furs of cottontails sewn to form a thin shawl around his bulky shoulders. 

He smelled of a foreign musk, the slight piquant scent of his skin being swallowed in by your nostrils as your lips smushed against the dip in the middle of his chest. Something sharp poked into the side of your face as you were held tightly against the orc, making you muffle against him to let you go. 

“You’re right you’re right; we should have some privacy-- and you, should get a chance to see your new home. My home.” He huffed against your ear, humid breath making your neck sweat as tusks touched the top of your head. “Name’s Xerxes, don’t forget it-- make sure you tell it to any orcs that try n’ talk to you.”

“Wait now--” Your aimed attempt of protesting was cut wrongly short by the sudden grab of your ankles, Xerxes beginning to stand back up as he dragged you with him. Before you knew it you were upside down, hollering as fat fingers made their way around your tibia. A shoulder jutted into your soft stomach, throat heaving as Xerxes began to move. You saw your lone pillow left on the ground, growing farther away as the large legs belonging to your captor moved from below your vision.

With every huge step he took, the harsh necklaces of teeth (which you prayed belonged to animals) dug into your side-- huh, so that must’ve been what was scraping against your face earlier. They clinked together as he walked, his body so rigid and unorthodox that he made a sound whenever he moved, whether it be a snorted grunt or the stomp from his feet, or the shift of his clothes and sheathed weapons. 

Xerxes didn’t open the leather flap of the hut sahe carried you out, walking straight as it brushed across your head. You shut your eyes in an unavoidable flinch, but the orc hardly noticed as he adjusted you on his shoulder, grabbing right below your thighs to hold you steady. 

The brilliant idea of beating and scratching his back enough to get free was so enticing you were on the brink of trying it-- but the orc standing outside the hut you just left, the unfamilliar darkness of the grasslands surrounding you, made you think twice. 

And just like that, your world spun and you were tossed inside what must’ve been another tent, a blur of oranges from fiery torches and grey browns of animal hide entering your vision. Something soft hit your back as you let out an ‘oof!’ from the depths of your chest. 

You scrambled to get back up, alert now that you were thrown in some different environment. But as you clambered to look around, whipping your head from side to side, all you saw were reddish walls of leather and two warm torches, along with the occasional spread of a map or a scribed foreign language.

This tent was much smaller than the last, not meant for a community to rest in. Instead, it was about the snug and spacious size of a room for only one to sleep in. The softness of hairs touched your palms, layers upon layers of furs covering beneath you to create a small lump of a warm, makeshift bed. 

“Look at this,” An excited, guttural voice begged of you. “Been keeping it since forever; saw it in some… abandoned goblin grotto, once. Couldn’t help but take it with me as a memento. As soon as I saw it, I just knew it’d be the perfect gift for my future amasiuncula.”

You could taste the lie on your tongue, as if it was thick in the air once he spoke it. Orcs didn’t just ‘find’ things, the destruction of your teensy village showed you that much. But that didn’t matter, not when the piercing blue of a silk fabric dazzled at you. Why, you had never seen something so plush in your life. It was surely just a base blanket-like piece likely once spooled for the future of becoming some sort of clothing or undergarment; it was still so silkenly smooth nonetheless. Your fingers traced the perfect fabric, its sensation nothing you had ever felt in your years of living as a farming peasant. The softest thing you’d ever touched were the baby calfs your far neighbors had bred into existence. 

“See how soft it is?” Xerxes said with a slight sputter, bringing the silk to your cheek. “Like a cloud… it’s yours. My engagement present.”

You looked back up at him bewildered. “Engagement?” 

“A present. Orc tradition is to offer a gift of richness; the wealthiest thing I could get my hands on.” He covered you in the silk, wrapping your shoulders in it as he pulled you from the furs to his bare lap. You would’ve resisted given the chance, but the orc smugly kept the silk around your arms, bringing the other side of it to wrap around you, pulling it tight; you could hardly move yourself now, shoved in this warm softness of a cocoon; it frightened you. But the tusks pressed against your cheek, chewed lips touching your temple as a tongue gently poked out to swiftly press against your skin, made you fear something else more. “Always wanted a human..” The orc exhaled, audibly sniffing in the scent of your hair. “Been looking for a good once for a while now. One that’ll be nice and docile, a sweet little foal for me to enjoy--” 

You slid your arms against the suffocating silk that was beginning to build heat. “I don’t think i’m what you’re looking for, besides I’m not--”

“Oh but you are,” Xerxes cut you off, leaning his orcish face close to yours to make you look at him. “So.. soft, your skin is like obsidian smoothed and frosted by the tumbling of waves of the sea, so polished and spotted I can’t help but want to keep it in between my fingers.”

Beads hung low by his neck, attached to rings of metal that pierced large holes in his pointed ears. The black and silver balls that dangled would jingle when he moved his head to get a better look at you, along with the wire and metal ornaments wrapped around the braids in his hair. Despite the undercut he fashioned (that you could see better now), a great mane of thick brown hair traveled to his shoulders, tickling your neck as he squeezed you closer. You felt almost like a baby, swaddled and pressed close to his large beating heart that thumped against your shoulder. 

“And oh your dainty little fingers and toes, when I saw them peeking from your bedsheets I knew grabbing them with would be no mistake.”

The orc nuzzled into you with his flat nose, warmth spreading against your cheeks as his sunken face created friction. You always sort of thought your fingers were quite round, your toes a little mishappen, but compared to him, your entirety was merely like a child’s straw doll’s. 

“I don’t want to marry you!” You blurted, freezing as the orc kept himself nestled against you. “I wanna go home, I want to go back to my bed and forget this-- I'm not some little trinket to mate with!"

Xerxes gave you a look. It was so smushy, an embarrassed grin like some pubescent boy watching his crush undress. It was perverted, so snickeringly crude as he bit his lip at the word "mate."

Ahh, he heard his fellow warriors, his chief in command even, discuss their "mates" with lustful wonder and candied eyes that danced with images of their beloved, their spouse. He had never had a person, never had a soft warm thing at night to hold, for him to bully himself into; it was hard to contain the joy inside of him, even with your rapid repeating of "no no no!"

"Mate…" He repeated. 

"I said NOT to--"

"But you said it; and now… I can't get it out of my head, dulcis." Xerxes was snug against your wiggling chest, pressing his freckled cheek against yours to make your lips pucker. He was unbelievably, fiery warm, with a heat under his skin that you wondered was just a layer of embers. 

In each kiss Fox placed against Vera's tear-soaked skin was an apology she could not say aloud. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. They had been separated for hours while Paul decided who would be a better housewife. Which of his dolls did he want to play house with today? Which one wouldn't bite? The pearl studs were still burning in her ears.

Fox was glad it was her. She had done this before, stood in place of a wife. Cooked and cleaned and smiled as she listened to the drone of a self-obsessed man. Her thoughts had been of Vera the entire time. Locked above her head. Alone. If she could keep his attention, then at least he wouldn't be up there. With her.

Pulling her too thin friend closer, she embraced her tightly. Some days it truly felt as if their bones were touching. Her wet hair dripped through Vera's dress ( dolls were meant to be dressed up ) and had it not been so hot, she might've felt bad. Instead, she imagined the cool water from the bath probably felt good, even if the scent of soap turned her stomach. Scrubbed and yet, so unclean.

"I stole you something," she whispered. Never quite sure if he was listening, even though she'd heard him go back down the stairs. Kissing another of Vera's tears away, Fox sat back on her knees. It had been hard to hide, but she managed. From the pocket of her own house dress, Fox pulled a clear plastic wrapper. The contents inside crushed, no longer resembling the little cake that had sat inside. "It was a ding-dong." She offered it out with an embarrassed smile. "It probably still tastes good." Sweet. Like Vera.

Parked in front of the house were two vans. Whumper carried me to the first one, waiting for their Henchmen to load my kicking Spouse into the back. “Once we get to the house, I’ll explain everything. You’re going to like it there. Almost everyone there is like us. They understand.” 

In front of us, Spouse went limp. At first, I thought they’d given up, but then their head fell back. Henchman 1 was holding a rag over their nose and mouth. They lifted Spouse into the van, and I saw they already had a prisoner. Lying limp on the floor of the van was Friend. Their wrists were bound with the same scratchy rope as mine, and a blindfold covered their eyes. 

That was the last straw. 

I flung myself out of Whumper’s arms. The poorly tied ropes around my legs had loosened enough for me to kick them off into Whumper’s face as they reached for me. 

I ran. I screamed.

No one even peeked out their windows. 

A memory of Whumper’s henchmen tackling Traitor in the park flashed in front of my eyes as someone grabbed me from behind. What was left of my heart broke as a familiar voice whispered in my ear, “Don’t hate me.” We fell to our knees together, and Caretaker pressed a rag into my face.