Orc Boyfriend: Silvestrov (rough draft)

In the Polar, there is always a chill in the air. Even during the summer months the cold blow from the mountains doesn’t cease. Despite the waters being thawed and green foliage reappearing, it is always cold. You’ve never gotten over this, having moved from the Southern Coast with your husband, a native of the Polar, you were used to never feeling a draft. You were always cold, and relied heavily on your husbands 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 around the property came from an underground spring that went around the dormant volcanoes of the Krymova mountain range, named so after the ancient Pale Goddess. Thanks to this, the waters were rich with minerals and natural healing properties. People came from all over to soak in the hot springs, earning you and your husband a healthy income.

Unfortunately, your husband’s illness could not be healed by the spring waters. He passed away, leaving you alone with the hot springs and home. He had never given you children, despite your strong desire for one. You put yourself into your work, making the hot springs and idyllic resort that not only healed, but helped to relax those who came. You’d been visited several times by the Czarina herself, Katrina, which drew even more people to the hot springs.

You can convinced yourself this was enough and you were happy. Your husband’s family still considered you part of their lives, so you were never far from loving arms. But sometimes, at night, you ached for someone in bed beside you and a child snoring from their crib.

In the midst of a particularly harsh winter, you were tossing salt along the path to ensure a safe passage for yourself come morning. It was bitter cold and you were cursing the mountain peaks for sending such harsh weather to you. At first, the sounds you hear are nothing new. Whistling winds and creaking trees had become part of your daily choir. Breaking through it though, was a sharp pained cry. You stopped to listen, unsure if you’re ears were playing a trick on you or not. The more you listened, the more it seemed to fade. You wished the winds would stop, and suddenly, the world went quiet. As if granting your wishes, the goddess Krymova halted the winds. And in the silence you heard the crying of a baby.

You had never run so fast in your life as you did then. Rushing through snow and ice, you followed the sounds of the baby. Soon, you came upon a tree where the roots were arched up and pulling the earth with them. The baby was hidden down in the earth below the roots where it was protected from the wind and cold.

The baby was pale pink with thick white curls on their head. It was an Orc child. Clutching the poor baby to you, you looked around for any signs of life. The Orcs in this area had a tentative peace with the village you lived in. For years they had feuded over land, only coming to terms recently. If you were caught stealing a baby, it could mean war. But there was no one around, nothing at all. This baby looked abandoned.

You took the child home, gathering hot water from the springs to warm them and bathe them. You find it is a little girl and she cannot be more than a year old. She clings to you, sucking your fingers and whimpering still. Amongst the thick furs wrapped around her you found a necklace that had an iron charm upon it shaped into a thick ring. Thick wooden beads decorated the string, it looked like an engagement necklace. There was also a bone tucked beside her that had something burnt onto it in Orc script, you would find out what it said later. For that night, you played mother to the little girl. You fed her goat’s milk and let her gum on some pear slices. Despite your best efforts, you fell in love with her instantly.

To be safe, you went into town the next day and to the Orc market where they sold their wares to the villagers. You had done business with some there and you went around asking about the little girl. None knew of her, since she was all white, they said she was from a tribe further north who were nomadic in nature. The bone they said bore her name, Severova. They told you to be careful, because if the nomadic tribe came looking for the baby, you could be in danger.

It could have been stupid, but you didn’t worry. Right now, Severnova was all that mattered. You already had lots of things for a baby you never got to use. You had clothes for her, a crib, and a little high chair so you could feed her at the table. For those first few days, you expected someone to come through the door and take her, but the more time that passed the less you feared such a thing.

Winter made its journey, the world thawed, and Spring awakened renewed. Summer followed closely behind, but it was all too short as fall came nipping bitterly at her heels. With fall came the cold again, and you began preparing for winter right away.

Severnova was doing very well, she was growing far too fast for our taste, and she was already speaking quite well. She toddled around, following you all over the house. She spent lots of time with your sister-in-laws, who loved to make her clothes and stuffed toys. You also took her to the Orcs and had her spend time with them and be amongst her own kind, learning the language, their culture, so that she could understand herself better.

One chilly afternoon, you’re making hot chocolate, preparing 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 repeated, wagging her finger at the mug.

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

“Where is my daughter?” The Orc snarls.

You drop your basket, spilling out all the prepared ingredients for the hot spring. You stumble backwards as the Orc lets himself inside. Half his face is heavily scarred, the ear is chopped off at the tip, tight skin pulls around his eye, and a scar that slashes from the corner of his mouth and back around his head still has stitches in place.

“I was told you were keeping an Orc child,” he snarls. “Where is she?”

“Mama!” Severnova shouts. “Who hewe?”

The Orc looks up, 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 drops to the ground unconscious. You stand there horrified while Severnova toddles into the room. She looks down at 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 pull the Orc near the fire. There, you check for any injuries of wounds that could be causing him pain or blood loss. When you see nothing, you prop up his head onto a pillow and begin making a bone broth for when he wakes.

It’s gone dark when he stirs, he rises from the floor to see you sitting in a chair before him. He glares into your eyes and you nod gently. “I have a bone 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,” you tell him. “I took her in, I even 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, you take a sip to show him you’ve done nothing to it. He takes it after a moment, drinking it in deep gulps.

“Severova is yours, I understand that,” you say softly. “But I love her so much, as much as if she were my own.” Tears begin to flood to your eyes. “I don’t know what to say or do, I know I have no claim over her aside from that love. All I can do is beg you do not rip 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 upon his arm. “I am still too weak to fend for myself, let alone her as well.”

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

“I thought I would return to her before she woke,” he growls low. “I did not think twice that I would not be able to.”

You fill the bowl again for him 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, trying to coax him. “I love her very much, if that means anything to you.”

He 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.” He touches his face. “I am still healing from my capture, and winter could mean my death.”

You wipe your face and whimper. “There is a shack you can stay in. It is 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 whisper. “You’d be close enough, yet far enough away.” You look him dead in the eye. “For her, I trust you will behave yourself!”

He smirks. “Silvestrov.”

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

He nods quietly and you take him to her room. She’s asleep in her crib, dozing away peacefully and heavily. He reaches into the crib, touching the long locks of her pale hair. He is silent, barely breathes at all.

“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 the Orcs nearby so she knows…”

Silvestrov gives you a sharp look and you hold your breath. “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,” you whisper. “I would have done it for Gnoll, Dragon, or Goblin.”

Silvestrov smirks and leaves the room with you. You notice a slight limp to his right leg, matching the scars on his face. You gathered up some firewood for him and showed him out to the shack. He looked around, turning his head as he took it in. He glanced out the window, seeing the hot springs just out. “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 which way to lean, angry or sad, you try to keep a stiff upper lip. All night you fret, pacing back and forth in your room. You have until summer, that’s a long time for things to change.

When Severova wakes in the morning, you make her breakfast like always. You then catch sight of Silvestrov outside, wandering back from within the woods. You go outside, seeing he’s stacked firewood all the way up the side of the house.

“What are you doing?” You snap at him.

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

Your arms tighten around you and you scowl.

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

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 about to put into her mouth. She looks up at him, staring intently for a moment before she points.

“Severova,” he says softly. “Do you recognize me.”

She continues to just stare.

You stand behind Silvestrov, watching intently as he approaches the baby. He kneels down 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 me.

“No, not quite,” he whispers. “Your mother was one of the strongest warriors I had ever met. She had the same curly hair that 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,” you state again. “And he loves you very much. Same as me.”

Severova looks at him for a long time, meeting his eyes. She then 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 fall goes on, Silvestrov continues to work for you. He does hard tasks that often takes 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 somedays, teaching her how to hunt and stalk in the snow. Due to their white features, they’re made to blend in with the snow and are born to be hunters, so he says.

Due to the nature of your relationship, you try to be friendly, at least for Severova’s sake. But you can’t help but feel bitter, and slightly aggravated by Silvestrov’s presence. There are days when you would rather ignore him than look at him.

One afternoon, as you’re going to get water from the springs to wash clothes, you find Silvestrov hunkered over a log and 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,” he growls.

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

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

“Those snow foxes really love to do that.” I pull his hand towards me and see his sleeve has been ripped off and there is a massive bit mark on his arm. “Big fox-” I whisper in alarm.

He pulls his arm back. “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 big and strong you think you are,” you snap at him. “No one goes up against a moose who has any brains to him.” You stand. “Come with me.”

You lead him into the house and have him sit down. “Take off your shirt, I can fix the sleeve later.” You begin making a poultice that’ll draw out infection and help heal the wound. You look back as he removes his furs and clothes. The right side of his body is heavily scared, but he has scars all over himself. His right side looks like he suffered burns and possibly damage from debris. He sits there 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 slabbing the poultice onto it.

“Stinks,” he growls.

“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 heavy.”

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 grows. “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 to see the world for her.” Hot, burning tears rise up into your eyes. “Yes, I would love a child, but I would love severova not different regardless.”

Silverstrov’s gaze upon you softens slightly. He sighs heavily then 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 words I hear her speak are ‘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.”

A smile grows across his face. “Good.”