The day had been one of those normal upon extra normal days like every other single day in your village. The baker put his honey buns out to cool, the blacksmith had shod his 1000th horse, the elders stopped by to make sure everything was going according to the rules, and you sold flowers at your family's flower shop. Excitement wasn’t even a word in the village.

The air was particularly still that day as you handed over lavenders to the blacksmith’s wife, and the atmosphere was stale. “Every day feels like a never ending loop,” you thought to yourself. If that loop didn’t snap sometime soon, you were going to snap instead. Your life felt the same as the daylilies you arranged into a bouquet for the stable boy to bring to his sweetheart.  Wake up, do the same thing as every other day, and wilt at the end of the day as you laid down to sleep; your hope dying of being anything more than a stupid day lily and then repeat. 

You tied a pink ribbon tightly around the golden blooms angrily, tugging the last knot with a harsh pull. Why did everyone in this stupid tiny village somehow end up in love and you somehow you never did? People came in and out requesting bouquets just like this one day in and out of your parent’s shop, making you more infuriated with every bunch of roses. 

You weren’t lovesick, you were sick of love. Although, it’s not like anyone in this village would suit your taste anyway… 

“I hope she likes these. They represent flirtation,” you said as you handed them over to the stable boy. What you hadn’t told him is that the flowers also represent a fleeting, unserious romance that could never last forever. Maybe you were being a bit of a prick by choosing those flowers specifically, but you were tired of seeing so many happy couples wandering the village. You were a prick, and sometimes it was okay to be a bit of one in your opinion at the right times.

The daylilies fell to the floor and so did the stable boy’s happy smile, and the ribbon snapped as a rumble vibrated the floor under your feet making you stumble forward. Your hand gripped the counter tightly and you muttered, “What was that?” 

“Raid!” the stable boy said and rushed outside of the shop slamming the door behind him.  Raid? No way…your village was too small and insignificant to be raided by the Northern Orcs who had been pillaging and rampaging villages across the kingdom. They came to take riches and kidnap valuable people, and your village didn’t have any of those things. Besides, your life was too boring for anything as interesting as an orc raid.  

You looked outside the window and sure enough orcs started to walk directly into your village marred with angry looks on their faces. There were hordes of them carrying swords, spears, and dressed ready for battle. Looks like your life was about to get interesting. 

Quickly, you grabbed your cloak and ran outside, being careful to dodge and maneuver to stay out of the orc’s sight. You didn't have many talents, but stealth was one of them as you grew up often hiding from your bullies in the village. This village was your home and you knew it better than the orcs did. 

You found a place to hide in a barn behind piles of hay. Nobody would go looking there since the barn was old and had nothing of value. Peeking outside, you couldn’t help but watch as the orcs came in droves looking fierce.

That was the thing…among the many ways you could be seen as odd by your village, there was a secret you kept hidden deep down- you had an unconventional type. Monsters and creatures had always fascinated you growing up much to the discouragement of the village elders. Nobody was supposed to know anything or take any interests in beings not of the village, but that didn’t stop you from getting your hand on every single book or page on the topic. While researching, you had grown very fond of orcs specifically and started to look at them the same way every one looked at those deemed most attractive in your class at the village school. You knew it was strange and couldn’t comprehend why you even felt that way.

Was it their large size? The way they managed to render enemies in battle so effortlessly? How their muscles seem to just…crap! How could you even be thinking this way while your village was probably being burned to the ground outside? By the celestials’ name, you had problems. 

The sound of screaming and panicked cries rang in your ear. The glare of firelight glowed behind the cracks in the wood of the barn, and smoke filled your nose, stinging your eyes and making you tear up. You tucked your knees closer to yourself and hugged them while covering your ear with your hands. You began humming a song from your childhood hoping to block out the noise of the dying.  Anything to block out the noise…a bump interrupted your thoughts. 

You froze, not sure whether or not to see if the source of the noise was an intruder, and tried to stay quiet behind the bales of hay. The sound of a guttural snarl and the drawing of a sword made you realize an orc had somehow managed to find your hiding spot. You looked over the edge of a hay bale and saw a green orc much larger than any of the others. He stood tall with a more stoic attitude compared to the barbaric raiders; his dark eyes were steady and looked around the barn, calculated. His jaw was fine and set in a serious manner, and he gripped his sword ready for battle despite being in a barn. Despite how terrifying the situation you were in was, you couldn’t help but stare at his strong, towering form.

Heavy footsteps thundered off the oak walls of the barn getting closer to the pile of hay. 

Backing up against the wall more, you hoped to hide, only to look up and find yourself face to face with the orc, feeling his cool breath on your face and smirking. He loomed over you and scowled, “Thought you could hide?”

You did what any rational person would do in this situation, you screamed, startling the orc and making him stumble backward and slapped him unable to think of any other defense move. The orc stood back and rubbed his cheek, “That hurt you know.” 

Glancing at his sword, you tried to assess your situation and figure out what to do. The orc stood there in front of the barn door, blocking your only escape route, and he could probably just as easily catch you if you climbed to the barn loft. 

You sure as heck weren’t going to die today, especially by the hands of an orc, and getting taken captive was out of the question. Your life was too boring to end before it got interesting!  At that moment, you realized your only option was to fight, but with what? You felt a weight in your pocket and remembered you still had the long knife used to cut the stems in the shop. The orc’s sword was larger than any regular sword, and menacing. There was no chance you could ever win against him, but you weren’t dying without a fight.

You pulled out the knife and hoped the orc couldn’t notice how much it shook as you pointed it at him as you shouted trying to sound fierce, “I’ll fight you first! You won’t take me that easily!”

The orc looked confused and asked, “You challenge me to a fight?”

What in the world were you thinking? There wasn’t any point in backing out now.

“Yes,” you said, gaining more confidence in your voice and steadying your hand, “I challenge you to a fight! I won't die without fighting!” You were angry, and frustrated feeling more ready to take on this monster standing before you. How dare he think he could walk right into your village, destroy your home, and then try to take your life? A steady thrum roared in your muscles and you felt stronger than ever as you stared back at him with a heavy glare. You wanted this orc dead for what he had done to the home you had once despised. Dead for wishing you dead.

The orc smiled a genuine smile and raised his sword, “Then I accept your challenge.”

Something snapped in you at that moment and you rushed towards him with the knife without hesitation. You jabbed it at his waist, but he quickly sidestepped and swung the sword at you. Dodging, you moved wildly, thrusting the knife at him in different directions hoping to make contact, but nothing seemed to work. He swung again, and you dodged as the sword lodged itself in the wood of the barn as you saw his eyes widen in surprise. If you didn’t have a chance with the knife, you could at least avoid getting stabbed.

“Good move,” the orc grinned, trying to tug the sword fastened in the wood, “Only a warrior such as yourself would be worthy of challenging me to such a fight.” 

You noticed your opportunity while he was distracted, and slashed the knife, leaving a trail of blood on his upper arm. It didn’t do as much damage as you had hoped.

“You’re better at flirting than I am,” he laughed and then pulled the sword from the wood, “That deadly look in your eyes is beautiful. I love how you look at me like you want to kill me.”

Huh? You lost your footing and fell back into the mud from shock.  

Flirting?! What did he mean by flirting?

Before you could stand back up or argue, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground by two large hands. The orc threw you over his shoulder and started to walk out of the barn. It was useless to fight at this point. He was too strong, and you were exhausted.

He carried you out of the village into the forest, trudging along easily over the sharp stones and uneven terrain. The walk lasted for hours, and you weren’t sure where you were anymore as night began to settle on the dense woods. The walk was quiet and uneventful, except for the gentle crunching of leaves beneath his feet and the occasional bird call. 

If you couldn’t fight him, you could at least plan your escape and try to memorize any noticeable landmarks to find your way back. He rubbed your back as if trying to comfort you. That didn’t make any sense; you were his captive and there was no reason for him to comfort you. Another odd thing you had noticed about him is that he didn’t act aggressive and was smiling the entire time. He also didn’t smell horribly like most would assume an orc would. Instead, he smelled like pine, flowers, and the scent of leather from his battle gear, reminding you of the forest. 

Soon enough, you arrived at a town with large, crude, stone buildings as he emerged with you from the trees. Orcs were everywhere, building things, selling food, and talking among themselves. All of them turned their attention to you and the orc carrying you making everything go quiet. Immediately, you realized that the orc who had decided to capture you must be someone important as orcs followed behind him to the largest stone building in the center of the town. 

Inside, you were carried to what looked like a grand hall with orcs all a rowdy mess, yelling and cheering as they drank mead and were eating from piles of food on several tables. Everything was so loud with the orcs shouting and pushing each other around. They must be celebrating the raid. 

Before you could decide whether or not flipping them off was too dangerous of an idea or not, you were set down on a dais holding a throne like chair at the front of the room making them erupt into more cheers.

“Chief! Chief! Chief!” they all shouted in unison. So the orc you were with was the chief? You had a feeling your problems were about to get a lot worse.

The orc who had brought you suddenly clamped down a hand on your shoulder, “I return with my bride!” The entire hall was full of cheers and applause.

Nope! Nope! Nope! Somehow the thought of being an orc chief’s bride was sounding worse than being his prisoner. How could this day get any worse?

“Another one?” a very large orc with a scar across his chest asked, “Didn’t you kill all the others?” Laughter and hushed whispers followed as the chief snapped, “I pick who I marry, not you, Garp”

Yup, this day officially got worse. Not only had orcs raided your village and kidnapped you, but now you had to marry the chief notorious for spilling the blood of his own brides?

Not today…

You struggled against his hold and tried to run for the door, but he led you to a room at the side of the hall that appeared to be his personal chambers. You looked around the room noticing every piece of furniture was 10 times bigger than normal to suit the orc’s size.

You pulled out of his grasp and glared at the orc demanding, “Marry you? Tell me why I have to marry you?!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” the orc asked, seeming unfazed by your outburst.

“Because I have no reason to become your bride!” you shouted back.

The orc seemed perplexed and asked, “Then why did you propose?”

Propose? Your anger crumbled to your confusion as you asked, “What do you mean, propose?”

The orc grinned, “Didn’t you know challenging an orc to a fight is considered a proposal in our culture? If the person who challenged draws blood first, then the proposal is solid.”

So that’s how this all came to be?! “That doesn’t seem fair. What if the other person doesn’t wish to marry the challenger?”

“I could have always said no, but I didn’t. I wanted to,” the orc replied, then got this dreamy smile on his face and continued, “How could I ever say no after seeing that fierce look on your face? I’ve never seen anyone look like they want to kill me so badly. Might I say…it was gorgeous.”

You stared back at him, unable to register what was happening. 

“Why would I marry the person who destroyed my village? You’re a monster!” you shot back.

The orc crossed his arms and scoffed, “I didn’t destroy your village. I stopped the other orcs before too much damage could be done.” He rolled his eyes, “My idiot troops attacked the wrong village. I only raid villages that are a direct threat to my people’s safety.”

Oh, that meant he hadn’t meant to hurt you? At least that meant your parents and the flower shop were okay.

“I don’t even know your name!” you said reaching for another argument to prevent becoming a murdered bride, “You can’t marry someone you don’t even know their name!”

“My name is Drak, and I overheard someone say your name as you ran to that barn, so now we know.” he smiled.

He bent down and held out his hand to you, making sure to stay eye level. You looked in surprise to see a primrose laying in his palm holding it out to you, “I picked this up on the way here. You were working in a flower shop, so I assumed you like flowers.” The golden petals were a bit crushed from his hold, but you tentatively took it from his hand muttering a small thanks. 

Primrose - the symbol of devotion and everlasting love. You thought to yourself.

“Do you like it?” he asked, staring up at you in a way that seemed like pure adoration.  His actions still left you feeling confused considering he would probably try to kill you in a few days-  not that he would get the chance before you escaped.

“Sure,” you said trying to sound convincing, “I love it.”

The orc gave you a large grin taking your hand, and you smiled back looking at the flower finally knowing how you would escape.

The next few days were a blur of wedding planning and general confusion from the unfamiliar place you were in. You didn’t understand much of what the wedding plans involved; all you knew is that there were a lot of flowers, food, and a crate that passed by one day that sounded suspiciously like the squeaking of bats.

Keeping quiet, you rose from the pile of furs you had been sleeping on across from Drak’s bed and picked up the pile of flowers slowly forming a bouquet you had been keeping hidden under some pillows. You added the finishing touches - Firelilies. 

Growing up in a flower shop gave you a wide variety of knowledge on flowers, including which ones were poisonous to what species. Firelilies, a perennial with amber petals spotted with a blazing orange, were well loved for human celebrations and deadly poisonous to orcs.

The flowers were your escape plan. You would keep them hidden in the bouquet during the ceremony, and then after you would find a way to get Drak in enough contact with them so you could run away from this place and never look back.

“I won’t be murdered today,” you whispered to yourself as you tied off the bouquet with a red ribbon.

Just as the bouquet was finished, you were suddenly grabbed by a few orcs you assumed were servants and forced into a white dress and assured to the grand hall before you could think. Luckily, the bouquet had survived the dress attack and your walk up the aisle to a cheerful Drak. You stood there staring back at him hiding your nerves about your plan. 

It was strange how something you had once had silly fantasies about had turned into a nightmare.

The ceremony was mostly uneventful, with a few spoken words, until the orc who seemed to be officiating the wedding pulled out a silver bowl and a dagger. Both you and Drak were instructed to make a small cut in your hand and let the blood drip into the bowl, symbolizing sharing or something you didn’t pay attention to. Thankfully, orc weddings didn’t end in a kiss, much to your relief.  Another roar of cheers rang throughout the hall and you felt yourself once again being lifted off the ground by Drak to be carried. At least this time it was bridal style instead of being tossed over his shoulder.

He carried you over to his room and set you down on the bed where you kept the bouquet hidden behind your back after pretending you had tossed it after the ceremony. For once the orc was wordless and your eyes danced between the sword strapped to his side while  his hands unfastened the latch on the ceremonial fur cloak he had worn over his shoulders for the wedding. The sword had to be the murder weapon, but you gripped your own behind you. Your eyes flicked back to his bare chest, taking in how muscular he truly was while he stretched. It was a nice view, to you at least, and it reminded you why you had started to notice beings like him in the first place. You started to wonder…

“Focus!” you scolded yourself quietly, “Poison him. Escape. Don’t get murdered. You won’t die over your stupid thoughts.”

The orc turned suddenly and grabbed your hand making you inch your fingers closer to the Firelilies. This was it, the moment he would try to plunge his sword through your heart except you would poison him before he could ever get the chance. Drak pulled your hand closer and whispered, “Come with me.”

That was not what you were expecting…”Where?” you asked confused.

“Outside. I have a bandit I’m acquainted with ready with two horses to take you back to your village. You’ll be safe and-”

You cut him off, “Weren’t you supposed to murder me?” Nothing in this place made any sense!

Drak blinked a few times then started laughing, “You thought I was really going to murder you? Not that I would’ve gotten that far anyway if I wanted to. I would recognize Firelilies anywhere. Clever human.”  

You took the flowers out of their hiding spot embarrassed and questioned“What about what that other orc said? You murdered all your past wives.”

“Garp is an idiot and doesn’t know anything,” Drak sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “My troops have brought me many brides as gifts to suck up to me during our raids of the villages. I didn’t want any of them, so I helped them escape back to their homes. The murders were just a rumor started by orcs who wanted some gossip.”

One thing was still bothering you in the back of your mind, “Then why let the rumors go on? Why not just send them back in the first place?”

“I have a reputation to maintain, you know.” Drak grinned back at you and then folded his other hand over your own in a surprisingly gentle manner for a monster, “But I must admit…you were the first person to ever actually propose to me. You had the spirit of a warrior.”

“But I’m not a warrior. I work at a flower shop,” you stammered. All you knew was how to grow lilacs and petunias, not how to hold a sword.  Drak pressed a hand to your chest above your heart, “You may not have the training, but you have the heart of a warrior. You proved that today with your plan to poison me. I fell in love with you the moment I saw that fierce look in your eyes.” 

Every piece of the puzzle fell together in that moment, and you realized most of this had been several misunderstandings. One thing you knew wasn’t a misunderstanding is that Drak’s actions had been sincere.

“I do have one request,” Drak continued, folding his hand back over yours, “Consider coming back one day. As chief, I need a partner who will hold my hand in marriage and on the battlefield. With enough training, I think you could become one of our best.”

He looked back up at you and said in a nearly pleading tone, “Will you at least think about it?” 

What a strange proposal? The past few days had been strange after all, so it was only fitting. After all, strange wasn’t boring, making it better than your village. It was what you had always wanted- a place with adventure, someone who understood you, and a way of making a place for yourself.

You nodded and looked back down at both your hands, interlocking in a perfect pattern, fitting together like a perfect bouquet or a perfectly balanced sword in a warrior’s hand.

For now, you would escape and go back to your lifeless village to settle things at the shop, knowing you had a life waiting for you here holding your hand. One thing was for sure, you had already thought about it, and you would be coming back.