Cathedra - Prologue: The Prince

  Authors Note: Hello! The day has arrived! Okay, a few things to go over before you read! 🥰

• Cathedra is purely self-indulgent smut, which means things are hardly factual, so don't get too bent out of shape if something is askew, so go with the flow! 
• This is a medieval setting, but the landscapes, cultures, languages- they're all different because I had to make them fit in the Bright universe! 
• I'm going to conservatively label this as a slow burn, but please also be aware that there are TW's for this: violence, murder, gore, sex, pregnancy, grief/mourning, even dub-con. if any of those are triggering to you, please think about progressing with this story!
• Everyone (unless obviously stated otherwise) is in their mid to late 20's in this story! Nik and Calista are the same age- I'd clock them in at about 25, 26   

I hope you all enjoy!  💛💛

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“Can… can you just repeat it one more time,” the Orc blinked through her confusion when turning to stare in disbelief at the woman riding horseback opposite to her.

 The shade from the leaves overhead dulled those brilliant rolling eyes of hers, a short scoff following. “Morn, I know you heard me,”

 “Yes your highness but I need to hear it again for I fear you’ve gone mad,” Morn implored, startling the chestnut mare she was ready to jump off of. “Calista, please,”

 Calista, whose rising humiliation she just kept concealed, understood the bewildered response from her closest friend, and couldn’t deny that she’d likely react the same way if given the same barbaric news. She was surprised her Orcish ally hadn’t launched herself from her saddle to strangle some sense into her, it had definitely happened before during their years growing up together.

 “I’m going to ask him to… m- breed me,” she whispered, unable to meet her companion's shocked yellow eyes. “And in doing so we will marry and overthrow our parents and claim the thrones,” she spat out, forgoing the same measure of details as the first time.

 “My lady- are you not a virgin?” Morn asked lowly, concern coloring her expressions.

 “And if I am?” Calista asked defensively.

 “Your highness- Orcs are- are…” she fought for her words, her hands conveying the search. “Tremendous!”

 Calista was silent, her thighs tightening at her horses sides. “How so?”

 Morn snorted derisively, throwing her hands up. “Jethro’s was nearly the size of my forearm,” she compared, watching Calista’s jaw drop.

 “Your thin, quiet Jethro?” She asked, never thinking an Orc as meek as he once was could’ve been carrying such a surprise.

 “A hidden treasure my husband was,” Morn smiled, her golden engraved tusks sparkling in the sun peaking through the canopy as she recalled the fond memories of her late husband.

 “Are all Orcs well endowed?” Calista asked.

 “That’s just normal Orc anatomy,” Morn explained. “Which again begs to be asked, your highness- Why?” she implored; she didn’t know if she could handle the motive, was it safe to ask?

 “Is that not obvious?” Calista questioned, but after a moment's search left her empty handed, Morn shook her head.

 “Did we not just ride through the countless families and people starving to death? And the sick? We all know what my mother does with the ones that pile up at the castle doors,” Calista recalled bitterly, her skin heating at just the thought of her vile parents and their monstrous remarks towards the population who looked to them for guidance. “I cannot take it anymore,”

 “Patricia will be throned soon if we wait,”

 Calista’s head snapped in her direction. “She’s as bad as my mother! She ripped out Fila’s tongue for dropping her clean fabrics across a scrubbed floor! The lands would turn inside-out under her rule, we cannot wait for an apocalyptic event such as that,”

 “How will this solve anything!? What law-”

 “It’s not… law,” Calista corrected. “If this is carried out accordingly, they would have no choice but to hand over their thrones,”

 The silence in place of a remark was her first clue that Morn was puzzled, then there was the vacant expression of her eyes as she waited for anything to help make sense of this madness.

 My nerves are shot to hell solely from you, Princess… she thought inwardly, waiting.

 “There is a code that all must abide by when stepping up to be King or Queen. We’re taught that all races once came together in a great war, yes? Against the Elvens?” Calista recounted, waiting for Morn to nod.

 “After that great battle, it was made absolute that any two joining nations, whether human or beast, can denounce the current nation’s rulers and declare leadership over all of Cathedra,” she explained, watching the realization come to Morn’s wide eyes.

 “Where did you learn this?”

 “My tutors! It’s mandatory we learn before we take the throne,” Calista giggled.

 “If you two can just declare your jointship then why do you have to fuck him?” she questioned heatedly, leaning towards her as if someone would hear them in the lush forest they rode peacefully through.

 “The only stipulation is that an heir of the joining leaders must be born to carry on the Code of Cathedra after we’ve passed,” she made clear. It had taken some time for her to accept this herself; to come to terms with giving her body over to someone else, and in turn carrying their child.

 Morn was silent, understanding the depth of this particular proposal with this particular Prince. “A halfling heir?” She asked.

 The Princess nodded. “Which we both know isn’t uncommon in our walls,”

 Morn pondered, picturing the small faces of the hidden halflings they’d visited in secret on numerous occasions, looking up at the women with golden eyes and dappled skin. To think her dear friend could soon one day have one following at her heels was something she’d never considered before, and she found it difficult to comprehend.

 “Have you met him yet?”

 “No, it’s only been a few letters back and forth so far,” Calista shook her head, blushing. She’d heard little to nothing about the Prince she was to meet, but Calista knew of a male Orcs reputation; it was why some brothels only served Orcs. “I fear he’d expect great things from me,”

 “Riding a cock isn’t hard, getting them to do what you like is what’s impossible,” Morn played, coaxing a dazzling smile from her majesty.

 “I don’t even know what I like,”

 “You’ll learn, better sooner than later now, I suppose,” she advised. Morn nodded to herself, smoothing down the embroidered head wrap that rested over her slim shoulder. “But why him?”

“I wasn't too fond of sitting on the cock of the Centaur Prince’s,”

 The women looked at one another goofily, cracking when they both snickered. Calista straightened above her white stallion, her feet dangling free of any stirrups at his sides as he stepped expertly over the openings and upturned roots of the lush forest floor.

 “Are you scared?” Morn asked softly.

 Calista nodded, grateful for the soft breeze relieving the anxious heat that had clung to her skin like a fever since morning.

 “What if it doesn’t work?”

 “Then it would only be a matter of time before Patricia takes care of me next. She did so with ease with Rose,”

 “Rose ran away, your highness,”

 Calista gave her a look. “She’s dead, Morn. She would have let me know if she’d truly desired to run away,”

 “She left a note-”

 “She would have let me know,” Calista’s cutting glare ended that dispute.

 Morn nodded, silencing herself. There was only the soft, rhythmic beating of their horses' hooves crunching across fallen foliage, and the rustling of leaves giving sound to the breeze washing through the trees.

 “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so harsh, I’m just… worried sick. So much that it twists my stomach into knots, sometimes it’s unbearable and I feel like I could scream and cry,” Calista exhaled, rubbing her tired eyes that had been kept peeled open at night, always listening for her sister's approach. “I thought we had a chance with Rose but since her disappearance, nothing has felt right. I needed to do something,”

 Morn listened, knowing her friend spoke with sincerity and at great loss. To mourn the questionable disappearance of her sister but also remain hypervigilant to avoid meeting the same fate, all while navigating this potentially devastating affair- it brought clarity to a lot of things that had been confusing Morn the past weeks, mainly her majesty’s strange behavior as of late.

 “It’s foolish, isn’t it?” Calista asked in uncertainty.

 Morn shrugged. “It’s dangerous, but selfless,”

 Selfless. This whole scheme had been an act of selfishness, she felt. The prospect of ruling a nation and carrying a child didn’t seem to bear the same crippling damage her parents and sister inflicted daily, and for this reason, advancing in her plan and contacting a Prince had been easy. Her parents tossed aside their responsibilities like used napkins and the kingdom still stumbled along.

 So why couldn’t she do it?

 “He’s agreed to your plan?” Morn interrupted her thoughts.

 “He’s agreed to meet,” Calista clarified, gently nudging her stallion with her heels up the small incline and effectively avoiding meeting Morn’s eyes.

 Morn watched her. “Excuse me?”

 Callie patted her stallion on its crest when he took the small incline with ease, bringing them to the small break in the trees where they could look out over the fields below the face of the mountain her castle rested upon.

 Harshly she yanked back on the braided reins, the sight of a colossal, strawberry roan draft tied to a tree and bobbing its head catching her off guard. Had it not been for the braids and bone beads decorating the mare's creamy mane and crafted bridle, she’d think it to be anyone else's.

 That’s when it hit her. The Prince was already here.

 “That’s an Orc’s horse!” Morn whispered, gazing at the massive beast that snorted like a dragon at the pair. Calista urged her back with her horse a little ways down the path, the two slipping off the sides of their transportation and tying them to a tree.

 She made quick work of smoothing down her baby blue gown, fixing the sheer shawl that cascaded around her figure elegantly. The tassels and ties were still secure, her golden jewelry ready to be yanked off her wrists at a moment's notice. If need be, she came ready to bribe and beg.

 “Am I presentable?” She asked, fixing her hair that was loosely braided and left unfastened around her shoulder.

 Morn gaped at her. “That’s what you're concerned about?”

 Calista faltered. “Bitch,” she spat, ignoring when Morn rolled her eyes. She still grabbed her arm with great power, the two joined at the hip as they cautiously approached the opening of the trees the Orc’s horse was beside.

 It leaned it’s great head down to sniff them, nuzzling Calista’s palm when she turned it up to her. “It’s nice,” she whispered, better observing the charming, beaded work decorating the mare's bridle. Her forelock had smaller locks of red dyed into the mix, as did her groomed mane and tail now that they had a better look at the massive animal.

 The deep clearing of a throat snapped her arms back to her sides, both spinning to face the noise.

 He towered over them, this much she knew at first glance, even with the substantial distance left between them he was closing. Had it not been for the silver medallions hanging on his chest, he would’ve looked like any other Orc. Massive, built like a titan and the dark blue-ish shade of the Eastern tribes stretched across the sinewy muscles bulging from shoulder to ankle. She’d once been told their markings resembled the stars that sat overhead when night befell her kingdom, and by god, she had not been lied to- he was his own personal constellation.

 “Princess?” he called, his accent mild. The goosebumps sparkling across her skin were involuntary. The gravely, deep timbre of his voice was heady, but what else had she expected from an Orc?

 “Prince Nik?” Calista cracked, clearing her throat. Morn’s hands tightened around her arm.

 He stopped a few feet from them. Their eyes worked quickly, taking in the scars, the dagger across his scarcely concealed, broad chest, the impressive cloak made from the hide of the monstrous red wolves that roamed this very forest dragging at his heels. With one look she understood the contrasts of their lives, and the unlike hardships she’d never faced. His blind eye carved by four deep gashes stretching from his forehead to jaw was testament to that alone. No blade or claw had ever flawed her honey skin, yet here he was, the same age, already worn and torn.

 His sight shifted to Morn, and his round nose scrunched. “You brought a slave?”

 Both of the women withdrew, looking at one another. “She can come and go as she pleases, I asked her to come,” Calista snapped, ire rising in her tone.

 He snorted, his massive arms crossing. “So why are we here, Princess?” he asked, his head cocking in boredom.

 She straightened her back, smoothing down the dress at her front. Now, in this moment, she was realizing accepting the rejection via letter would’ve been far better than facing the disgust he was surely to cast upon her once she opened her mouth and revealed the horrific news. They’d only exchanged a handful of words but already he seemed sour.

 What a choice I made...

 “I come pleading you hear and accept the proposal of a truce,” she spoke, her nails digging into her palms.

 One hairless brow above his blind eye kicked up. “This is our first time meeting, Princess,”

 “Between our parents,” she clarified impatiently. “Between our kingdoms,”

 He stared in silence, digesting her words before he finally took a few steps forward. “The Code of Cathedra?” he asked, and she nodded stiffly. “Are you fucking mad?” he barked, startling her.

 “Keep your voice down!” she hissed, but he only laughed.

 “No one can hear us out here, we’re far from your walls,” he reminded, brushing past her towards his horse. The bicep that at the very least was the width of her thigh bumped her, nearly shoving her to the ground, but she spun on her heel to face him.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Leaving, this was a waste of time,” he answered, grabbing the reins of the draft and walking back towards where he had first emerged from.

 “No!” she yelled, rushing before him to push him back, but his massive hand swiped her away and left her wrists sore.

 “You told me it was of great importance that we meet here today but I’ve come to only find you shouting ignorance!” he boomed, his voice carrying through the trees. She spied those sharp teeth lining each row, more notably the tusks she knew were so sharp and durable that other races desired them illegally and immorally as trophies or weapons.

 “You have not even allowed me to explain!” she yelled back, her eyes as furious as his.

 “There is nothing to explain!” He shouted, the girls flinching and his horse throwing her head. “You’re a fool for even suggesting it!”

 “A man who runs from the benefit of change is a coward,” she spat, pushing against his chest. Jesus- it was like pushing against a fucking wall.

 He continued to glare, but she glared right back. “Move,”

 “Not until you hear me,” she said between tight teeth.

 “This is a waste of time,”

 “You have not heard me, yet,”

 “I know what the code is, and I know this cannot work, Princess,” he leaned down to get in her face, his already rough voice rumbling with a deep growl in his chest.

 “It could-”

 “NO,” he thundered, pushing her aside like she was a dandelion- if she even thought of trying to grab him, he could snap her arm in half with ease.

 “Your highness!” Morn rushed, steadying her, but Calista spun angrily, her long hair falling around her shoulders.

 “Your people will continue to die for your cowardice!” she called out.

 The Orc Prince halted, looking over his shoulder. His patience which was already worn thin upon arriving was near breaking point. This bitch knows not what she speaks of, he hissed inwardly, his nose scrunching in a repressed snarl. “Do not blame my parents faults on me,”

 “Our people's deaths will be on your hands, and mine,” she answered, the slightest of relief relaxing her shoulders when he turned to face her, ignoring the nudge from his horse. “We can benefit from a truce,”

 “A truce that calls for our marriage, need I remind you,” he recalled bitterly. Just the thought of touching human skin gave him the most unpleasant of sensations; they’re so fuzzy.

 If she had a rock she’d have thrown it at his bald head- what a man.

 “Our parents are leaving the lands we are to inherit in ruin. Our people are sick and starving. I can guarantee that your King and Queen laugh and dance the same as mine while the bodies pile,” she caked on, watching him inch closer to letting a rippling snarl out.

 “You can’t swear to that,” he snapped, stomping over to her.

 “I’ve seen them at my castle, drinking and partying,” she revealed, stepping towards him and away from Morn’s grasp.

 Her heart raced under his hateful glare when he stopped before her, but she stood tall and proud just as he, her chin lifted. “Queen Dinara and King Oleg of the Eastern Redclaw clan? Your father has an eye just like you, does he not?”

 She’d knocked him down from the high branch he first stalked her from. He was concealing his shame well, but the secret was out now and he was feeling the full force of such deceit, once proudly with his chest puffed out now to only look down at her in humiliation. He’d known all along of the secret meetings- his father had been the one to always tell him that their people wouldn’t understand the choices they made to keep the peace, but that? Partying with fellow rulers instead of discussing how to lift one another out of the darkness that had been plaguing all the kingdoms of Cathedra?

 “This could save our people,” she implored, interrupting his tumultuous thoughts.

 He sucked his teeth, his head lifting to glare at her once again before walking back to his draft whose ears were perked forward curiously. “I could do so by marrying one of the women from my clan,” he called back. Whether his fate upon the throne was in ruin by the time it was his- so be it. He wouldn’t marry a human.

 “And do they boast royal blood? Power? What good comes from marrying a flower picker?” Calista asked, further aggravating the Orc whom she could see expanding with heavy breaths. “You may hate me and this proposed marriage all you want but this plan is the only thing we have to save what’s left of our homes,”

 “The kingdoms aren’t worth a life lived with someone I don’t even care to speak to,” he remarked, but she only stared flatly at him.

 “That is awfully dramatic,”

 His face tensed in annoyance. “You're quite unpleasant for a Princess,” he mumbled, but she scoffed.

 “As are you, Prince,” she spat, her glare as cold as his. “Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

 “You act as if our days are numbered,” he barked.

 “Mine are,” she stated, the two making eye contact.

 Slyly, he lifted his chin so his nose could take in the painted air around them, more importantly observing the Princess before him in a way his eyes could not. She was a tight bundle of rattling nerves no doubt; her shaking hands had made that evident since he’d first seen her step cautiously out of the trees, her big, brown eyes gazing all around them. The sickly stench of hatred most humans reeked of did not emit from her like any other he’d come to draw with, nor did she bare any visible weapons. Could she have been that naïve to come here without any decent protection?

 Stupid girl.

 Nik looked her up and down- was she serious about this?

 “We know nothing of running a kingdom. What guarantee is there that the lands would not collapse under our rule?” He fought, but she shook her head.

 “We’ve had the same archaic teachings and grooming that our parents themselves endured and then pushed on us. If they could drag their lands and people along with their closed minds and ignorance, can’t we? Are we not eventually to be forced into a marriage under their terms and their supervision anyways? So why not take matters into our own hands?” She asked, waiting even when he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t. “They’ve had the chance to learn from their own parents' mistakes yet they let greed and power consume their ways. I am not my mother, just as I can tell you are not the father I heard referring to his sickly as “fish bait” while he indulged in the castles roast,” she recounted, her voice soft when revealing the depravity of his father.

 Nick shook his head after some thought. “I am not my father,” he agreed, taking a steadying breath. “But you do see the flaw in this, don’t you?” he asked softer, but she didn’t answer. “This marriage- this joining, even if false, would have to result in a pregnancy,”

 His brows furrowed when she urged Morn to give them privacy, exchanging a threatening glare with her before she walked back to where their horses were.

 “That’s the plan,” she told him.

 He stared at her with wide eyes, swallowing, his hand tightening around the reins he still grasped. He didn’t retract when she approached, steadily, her bare feet moving softly over the exposed earth. Some loose fringe that had escaped the silver, sparkling head dress covered some of the sparkle in her eyes when she gazed up at him pleadingly.

 “Put your baby in me so we may claim the thrones and rule as King and Queen over Cathedra.” She declared, the back of her eyes starting to burn from unshed tears

 He shook his head, the prospect daunting. “You’re mad, Princess,”

 “Fine. If desiring peace and to end the bloody feuds makes me mad then so be it- I’ll be your mad Queen,” she promised, her patience thinning.

 This was also starting to exhaust him- everything he came back with she slapped aside like a defenseless fly.

 “How do we even know we’re-” he motioned between them, more to the obvious differences in their sizes. “Compatible?”

 It was dangerous to try imagining it; breeding a human this small could lead to injury, but a darker side of Nik wasn’t completely dismissive of an attempt. He’d never fucked a human before, and by the smell of it, she’d never fucked anyone.

 Heat collected in her cheeks. He was massive, absolutely rippling with muscles she knew were hard as stone, but she still thought he would fit pleasantly between her thighs.

 Isn’t that compatible enough?

 “We have halflings in our walls- they exist,” she revealed, taking his perplexed expression as this being something he’d not known before.

 He took a half-step back. “Lies, halflings can't survive life outside the womb,” he argued, but she laughed.

 “Tell that to the tusked human children and albino Orcs I have under safe watch. They're already attacked by humans despite sharing half their blood, I did not think an Orc would do the same,” she commented in disappointment.

 That visibly riled him a little more. “And how are these children kept safe?”

 “They’re under my watch, I don’t let anyone lay a finger on them,” she explained, the sincerity of her tone steadfast.

 In confusion he looked down at her, his once clear image he’d formed of this girl shifting before him. “Why would you do that?” he asked, the vivid images of countless Orc’s he’d seen brutalized by her own people reminding him to stay vigilant.

 “I care. I want all of my people to be safe, and fed, without illness. I don’t care what blood they carry because it’s precious blood nonetheless. This great favor I ask of you is nothing to be taken lightly- I’m asking you to spend your life with me in exchange for our lands and peoples prosperity, but quite honestly I’m desperate, Prince. I cannot bear to keep watching my people starve while our parents laugh and dance,”

 “But what makes you think I’d want to bear a halfling with you?” he asked, noting the moment her emotions hung in suspension before she composed herself.

 “I do not need your presence to raise my child, halfling or human,” she spoke only sincerely of what she knew in her heart to be true, but in all honesty, could care less to spend time being concerned over motherhood. She understood this was asking for more than just an arranged marriage- she asked for his hand in making decisions that could affect the lives of thousands. With one wrong move, they could destroy the mountains and plains, destroy the already fragile, mock peace they all survived under.

 But why couldn't he just say no?

 Was it the desperation in her tone, maybe the guilt of going to sleep at night across his bearskins while others clawed at leaves for warmth? Or was it that he’d taken note of how parents gathered for dinner sipped the broth of watery soups while giving their little ones the sparse veggies and herbs at the bottom of the pot?

 Would he meet the same fate if he chose to marry a flower picker? Great King Nik, scraping his nails across an elk's ribs all in hopes to find the last morsel of meat for his eventual children.

 Unless, he put those babies in the belly of someone who held wealth, power, a castle- food.

 He looked down at the Princess, trying to comprehend the great decision his heart was already leaning towards. Her jaw was trembling; the apprehension was coming off of her in waves.

 “Why do you hate your parents so?” he asked softer, and the light of her eyes dimmed.

 “They don’t care that there are children starving to death. We have so much food in our castle that my parents have halted trading because it’s started to spoil,”

 Nik’s shock was almost saddening- he looked like he’d been slapped across the face. “You speak the truth?”

 She nodded, glancing down at their feet in shame. At this point, Nik almost felt like he was obligated to do something. Even if he thought the years it would take for him or his brother to claim their own parents' thrones, who knew if they all could even last that long? He’d been inane for assuming the hardship was only with his clan- he knew nothing about the people around him. What kind of King could he be with such limited compassion?

 She looked up when he moved to tie his horse to another low hanging branch, rustling her thick mane when she swung her head towards him.

 “Her name is Lyuda,” he told her, pushing the horse's head away playfully. “What would we risk?” he asked, walking towards the edge of the trees where they could look out into the rolling meadow below them.

 She swallowed her hopeful smile, following after him until she was at his side.

 “The same we already risk just meeting like this,” she spoke, and he scoffed.

 “Our lives?” he asked, and she nodded. He looked back out.

 “How much time would we have?” he asked, giving her an up and down with those mismatched jewels for eyes.

 She locked up a little bit- was he going to ask to try now? I mean… She glanced around, her heart thundering in her ears. Do people really do it against trees? “As soon as possible,” she mumbled, meeting his gaze again.

 “Is there urgency?” he questioned, and when she nodded, he asked, “Why?”

 “My sister. Her desires to rule are obvious but... I fear she’d take matters into her own hands if she grew impatient enough,”

 “Would she harm you?”

 “I believe her to have already killed our older sister,” Calista told him, the longing for better news evident in her low tone.

 Nick sighed, the two staring at one another.

 He wanted to run, far away from her and this crippling obligation that would sooner or later be his, but like her, they couldn’t turn their backs on the life they’d both been groomed for. Not when so many people looked up to them for help, including the Princess, who still gazed up at him with glossy eyes, wondering herself which direction his next step would be.

 But his mind was made up.

 He overlooked her, wondering how she’d look in the traditional garments the women in his clan wore on their wedding days, but more of how quiet that day would be.

 The heavy fallings of hooves startled Morn, and when they thundered away with the loud call from the Orc Prince, she scrambled to stand from her spot under the tree their horses had been grazing beside.

 “Your highness!?” she yelled, slipping this way and that up the incline until she was through the break in the trees again. She stopped when she found Calista with her back to her, staring out at where the Orc Prince had just rode away, now galloping across the meadow they once gazed over. It was amazing how he made that horse look normal sized once sat on it.

 “Did he-” she asked, but the fresh pungence of blood assaulted her senses. “You're bleeding!” she startled, lifting Calista’s hand where the blood dripped from her palm.

 “He bit me,” she said softly, and Morn looked at her in silent shock.

 Beneath the blood she could see the crescent shape of the bite in her palm, but also saw
the same dagger that had been worn across his chest in her other hand, the blade coated in blood she didn’t recognize. “We made a blood pact,”

 Morn stared at her, words unable to form and holding her bloody hand.

 “He said he would do it.” Calista added, still staring vacantly out at his form racing across the meadow.

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