Orc Boyfriend: Silvestrov (complete)

Special cover art by @artcelestial 

Female Reader x Male Monster

In the Polar, there’s always a chill in the air. Even during the summer months the cold blowing from the mountains doesn’t cease, despite the waters thawing and green foliage reappearing. Having moved from the Southern Coast with your husband, a native of the Polar, you’ve never gotten used to this. You rely heavily on your husband’s sisters, grandmothers, and elders to make you warm clothing and blankets to feel somewhat normal. In the beginning, you were sick often, but thanks in part to your husband’s property you were able to combat the prolonged illnesses.

The hot springs on the land come from an underground spring connected to the dormant volcanoes of the Krymova mountain range, named after the ancient Pale Goddess. Thanks to this, the waters are rich with minerals and natural healing properties. People come from all over to soak in the springs, earning you and your husband a healthy income.

Unfortunately, your husband’s illness could not be healed by them. When he passed away, you were left his home and property. He had never given you children, despite your strong desire for them. You put yourself into your work, making the hot springs an idyllic resort that not only healed, but helped to relax those who came. You’ve been visited several times by the Czarina Katrina, whose patronage draws even more people to the hot springs. You’ve convinced yourself that this was enough and you’re happy. Your husband’s family still considers you part of their lives, so you’re never far from loving arms. But sometimes at night you ache for someone in bed beside you, and to hear a child snoring in a crib nearby.

In the midst of a particularly harsh winter, you’re tossing salt along the path to ensure a safe passage for yourself in the morning. It’s bitterly cold, and you cure the mountain peaks for sending such harsh weather to you. Suddenly, a piercing cry breaks through the whistling of the wind and the creaking of the trees. You stop to listen, unsure whether your ears are playing a trick on you. But the sound doesn’t return. You wish the winds would stop, and suddenly, the world goes quiet, as if the goddess Krymova has halted the winds. And in the silence you hear the crying of a baby.

You’ve never run so fast in your life. Rushing through snow and ice, you follow the sounds of the baby. Soon you came upon a tree whose roots are lifting from the ground, pulling the earth with them. The baby is hidden in a hollow beneath, protected from the wind and cold.

It’s an orc child, pale pink with a head of thick white curls. Clutching the poor baby to your chest, you look around for any signs of life. The orcs in this area have a tentative peace with the village you live in. If you’re caught stealing a baby, it could mean war. But there’s no one around, and the baby seems abandoned.

You take the child home, gathering hot water from the springs to warm and bathe her. She’s a little girl, and she cannot be more than a year old. She clings to you, sucking your fingers and whimpering. Amongst the thick furs she was wrapped in, you find a necklace strung with thick wooden beads. You find it has an iron charm shaped into a thick ring resting at her chest. It looks like an engagement necklace. There was also a bone tucked beside her that has something burnt onto it in orc script. You feed the girl goat’s milk and let her gum on some pear slices. Despite your best efforts, you fall in love with her instantly.

To be safe, the next day you go into town to the market where the orcs sell their wares to the villagers, and ask around about the little girl. No one knows of her, but they say that her white skin means she’s from a nomadic tribe who lives further north. The bone that was tucked into her blanket bears her name, Severnova. They tell you to be careful. If the nomadic tribe comes looking for the baby, you could be in danger.

It could be foolish, but you don’t worry. Right now, Severnova is all that matters, and you already have lots of things for a baby you never got to use - clothes, a crib, and a little high chair so you can feed her at the table. As the days pass, you grow less and less concerned that someone will burst through your door and take her.

Winter passes over, the world thaws, and spring awakens. Summer follows closely behind, but it’s all too short, and fall comes nipping bitterly at her heels. The cold returns, and you begin preparing for winter right away. Severnova is doing very well, growing far too fast for your taste and already speaking quite well. She toddles around after you all over the house, and spends lots of time with your sisters-in-law, who love to make her clothes and stuffed toys. You also take her to the orcs to be amongst her own kind, learning their language so that she can understand herself better.

One chilly afternoon, you’re making hot chocolate to prepare for a guest to the hot springs, while also rewarding Severnova for cleaning her room all by herself.

“Be careful now, my love. This cup is very hot.”

“Berry hawt.” Severnova repeats, wagging her finger at the mug.

You smile brightly and kiss her on her cheek when someone pounds at the door. “Just a moment!” you shout, thinking it’s the customer you’re expecting. You put on a shawl and pick up your basket, and when you open the door you stare into a chest covered by iron plate mail and fur. Looking up, see meet ruby-red eyes and sharp tusks.

“Where is my daughter?” the orc snarls.

You drop your basket, spilling all the prepared ingredients for the hot spring, and stumble backwards as the orc lets himself inside. Half his face is heavily scarred, and his ear is chopped off at the tip. The skin is pulled tight around his eye, and a scar that runs from the corner of his mouth to the back of his head still has stitches in place. “I was told you were keeping an orc child,” he growls. “Where is she?”

“Mama!” Severnova shouts. “Who hewe?”

The orc looks up, his eyes softening at the sound of her voice.

“Sir,” you try to say without shaking. “I would...” You have no idea what to say. What can you say? If Severnova is his child, he has the right to take her.

“Mama?”

The orc’s mouth opens slightly, and he falls to the ground in a dead faint. You stand there horrified while Severnova toddles into the room. She looks down at the man who could be her father and blinks a few times. “Ow,” she says pointing to him.

You scoop her up. “Go play in your room for a moment, okay? Mommy has to take care of his owie.”

“Okay,” Severnova says with a smile.

Once she’s in her room, you manage to heave the orc near the fire to check for any injuries. When you see nothing, you prop his head onto a pillow and begin making a bone broth for when he wakes. It’s dark out by the time he stirs, rising from the floor to see you sitting in a chair before him. He glares into your eyes and you nod. “I have broth for you, if you want it.”

His brow furrows heavily. “She called you ‘Mama’.”

You stand up and ladle him a bowl full of the broth, tossing in some fresh greens. “I found her last winter. I looked for her family, but when I found nothing I kept her here.” You offer him the bowl. “Here, it’ll help you.”

He glares at the bowl and you nod again, taking a sip to show him you haven’t drugged it. After a moment he takes it, drinking it in large gulps. “Severova is yours, I understand that,” you say softly. “But I love her as much as if she were my own.” Tears begin to flood your eyes. “I don’t know what to say or do, and I know I have no claim to her aside from that love. All I can do is beg you not to tear her from me.”

He sets aside the empty bowl. “She is my child. My blood.”

“I know,” you whimper.

“But she called you Mama,” he sighs heavily. He runs his hand down his face, and you see more scars on his arm. “I am still too weak to fend for myself, let alone care for her as well.”

You take a breath, trying to figure out what you should do. “Where have you been? Why did you leave her under the tree?”

“I thought I would return to her before she woke,” he says in a low voice. “I did not believe that I would not be able to.”

You fill the bowl again and he takes it, gulping it down hungrily. “I don’t know how long she had been there, but she was safe when I found her,” you say encouragingly. “I love her very much, if that means anything to you.”

The orc wipes broth from his chin, then licks the scar at the corner of his mouth. “But she is still mine.”

You lower your eyes. “I know, sir.”

“Once summer comes, I will take her with me.”

Your heart begins to shatter, and tears fall from your eyes.

“But I cannot move until then.” The man touches his face. “I am still healing from my capture, and winter could mean my death.”

You wipe your face and whimper. “There’s a shack you can stay in. It’s insulated and has a cot inside. You can have it.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are you mad? Letting me stay so close?”

“You wouldn’t hurt Severova.” You look him dead in the eye. “For her sake, I trust you will behave yourself!”

He offers a small smile. “My name is Silvestrov.”

You sniffle and rub your eyes again. “Would you like to see her?”

He nods, and you take him to her room. She’s asleep in her crib, dozing away peacefully, and Silvestrov reaches in, touching the long locks of her pale hair. He is silent, barely daring to breathe.

“She’s a very good little girl,” you tell him. “She’s smart, charming.” Your throat clinches as you look at her. “I take her to visit the orcs nearby so she knows…”

Silvestrov gives you a sharp look, and you hold your tongue. “I suppose I should thank you. Without you she might not be in this world.” He turns, fully facing you. “But why would you do this?”

You look down at Severova and swallow back your tears. “I never had a child, and I wanted one desperately. I would have done it for gnoll, dragon or goblin.”

Silvestrov smirks and leaves the room with you. You notice he limps slightly on his right leg. You gather up some firewood for him and show him out to the shack. He looks around, then glances out the window, seeing the hot springs just beyond. “You have no man around here?”

You frown up at him. “No. My husband passed away some years ago, and I hire help when I need it.” You take blankets from a wardrobe in the corner and lay them on the cot. “If you want work while you’re here, I can pay you.”

He turns back to look at you. “I still don’t understand you.”

“You just met me,” you grouch. “Sleep well.”

You leave the shack in a huff, still unsure whether to be angry or sad. All night you fret, pacing back and forth in your room. You have until summer, and that’s a long time for things to change.

When Severova wakes in the morning, you make her breakfast like always before you catch sight of Silvestrov outside, wandering out of the woods. You go to meet him, and see he’s stacked firewood all the way up the side of the house. “What are you doing?” you exclaim.

“Building up my strength. Working.” He tosses another pile of wood from his shoulder. “Is she awake? Have you told her yet?”

You wrap your arms around yourself and scowl.

“No,” Silvestrov sighs. “I didn’t think so. Can I see her?” He nods to the door.

Everything inside you shouts ‘no’, but that isn’t fair to Severova. You step aside, allowing him into the house. As Silvestrov walks into the kitchen, Severova has a fistful of oatmeal in her hand that she is about to put into her mouth. She looks up at him, staring intently for a moment before she points.

“Severova,” Silvestrov says softly. “Do you recognize me?”

She continues to just stare. You stand behind Silvestrov, watching intently as he approaches the baby. He kneels beside her highchair and smiles at her. “Been a long time, baby girl. You’ve gotten so big. You look like your mother.”

Severova points at you.

“No, not quite,” he whispers. “Your mother was one of the strongest warriors I had ever met. She had the same curly hair as you.”

“Bald,” Severova points to his head.

Silvestrov laughs. “Good eye. You sound like a hunter already.”

Sevrova looks back at you and holds her arms open. “Mama!”

Walking towards her, you put your hand on Silvestrov’s shoulder. “My love, this is your father. He’s been looking for you.”

“Mama!” Severova whines.

You pick her up, cleaning off her hands with your apron. “Look.” You stand before Silvestrov as he stands up. “This is your father. And he loves you very much, the same as me.”

Severova looks at Silvestrov for a long time, meeting his eyes. She holds her hand out to him, and you place her in his arms. “Hi,” she says softly.

“Hello,” he chuckles. It breaks your heart, but you know this is what is right for Severova.

As autumn goes on, Silvestrov continues to work for you. He does hard tasks that often take a few men to accomplish, such as moving boulders to allow the hot springs to drain and fill with fresh water faster. He’s made repairs to the shack, and even built a shed for you to keep wood and supplies in. He says he’s building his strength back up, but what his strength used to be you don’t know. He spends time with Severova, playing with her in the snow and having meals with both of you. He takes her out on long walks some days, teaching her how to stalk in the snow. He tells her that their white features make them born hunters, made to blend into the arctic wild. You try to be friendly with Silvestrov, at least for Severova’s sake. But you can’t help but feel bitter and slightly aggravated by his presence. There are days when you would rather ignore him than look at him.

One afternoon as you go to fetch water from the springs to wash clothes, you find Silvestrov hunkered over a log, breathing hard. There’s fresh blood in the snow, and he’s holding his arm against his chest. “What did you do?” you ask him.

He looks up at you, eyes bleary and brow sweaty. “Nothing. Just go on about your business.”

“No,” you snap at him. “Let me look. Did you cut yourself?”

He coughs and shakes his head. “Got bitten.”

“The snow foxes really love to do that.” You pull his hand towards you and see his sleeve has been ripped off, and a massive bite mark is sunken into the flesh. “That’s a big fox,” you whisper in alarm.

Silvestrove pulls his arm back. “A moose,” he grunts.

You stare harshly at him. “Are you stupid?”

Silvestrov smirks. “I thought it would make good stew for Severova.”

“I don’t care how strong you think you are,” you snap at him. “No one goes up against a moose who has any brains to him. Come with me.”

You lead him into the house and make him sit down. “Take off your shirt. I can fix the sleeve later.” You begin making a poultice that will prevent infection and help heal the wound, and glance back as he removes his furs and clothes. His whole body is heavily scarred, but his right side has burns, and what look like cuts made by flying debris. He sits before the fire, staring at his bitten arm.

Sitting beside him, you use warm water to wipe up the blood and clean the bite before dabbing the poultice onto it. “It stinks,” he growls.

“It’s supposed to.” You wrap bandages around his arm and the poultice. “Leave this for an hour or so.”

“Where’s Severova?”

“Down for her nap,” you huff. “She sleeps heavily.”

He turns his arm over. “You hate me, don’t you?”

You frown deeply. “What makes you say that?”

He glances into your eyes and a smile spreads across his face. “Don’t play games. Just say it to my face, little woman.”

“If I hated you, I would have fed you to that moose myself.” You stand up and go to clean the counter. “I resent you.”

Silvestrov chuckles. “Wouldn’t you rather have a child of your own? Wouldn’t that be much better than taking in something that doesn’t belong to you?”

You turn and scowl at him. “Just because I didn’t give birth to her doesn’t mean she is not mine. I love her. I adore her. I want the world for her.” Hot, burning tears rise into your eyes. “Yes, I would love a child, but I would love Severova no differently than my own.”

Silverstrov’s gaze softens slightly. He sighs heavily and turns to look back into the flames. “Her mother died giving birth to her, a death more worthy than even one by combat. I was lost,” he admits. “I thought I would always have Ivkina. I promised Severova she would have everything, even if she was missing a mother. So imagine my surprise when the first word I hear her speak is ‘Mama’.”

“Please don’t take her from me.” The words escape in desperation.

Silvestrov stands up and approaches you. “You have until summer,” he says calmly. “Like I said before, I will build up my strength and Severova’s affection.”

You clench your jaw and your fists. Everything is anger and tears, but you keep the fire inside you down. “Fine. Then I will fight you until then.”

The smile spreads across his face. “Good.”