Chapter 15
Lix’tuk
I’m sitting on my throne, her scent still lingering on my fingers.
Why do I like it so fucking much?
Humans are appealing to orcs. That’s no secret.
When the first few human settlements popped up in Uzrirgard, we found them to be rather fascinating.
Found our attraction to them even more fascinating.
Some traditional orcs thought the unions were a slight to the Twelve Gods, but their offspring became mighty orc warriors and gorgeous orc brides.
Our scientists said they were indistinguishable from orcs born to two orc parents, so most considered that to be a sign.
A sign that humans and orcs could co-exist.
But humans are a plague on this world. Their true nature eventually reared its ugly head.
Even now, two hundred years after The Great War ended, humans are still cruel and dishonest. Maybe some of that cruelty infected me like the virus that nearly drove us to extinction. I wasn’t always so cold and callous.
Softness became a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to make decisions no orc king would ever want to make. Those that tried to destroy us became the key to our survival through the Reparations. But we’re long past that. Long past needing humans to breed.
I’ve allowed myself to become weak. That’s the only explanation.
Weakness and grog are a dangerous combination.
I’ve turned into a drunken old fool. I can manage my needs.
I’ve done that for longer than most orcs have been alive.
I didn’t need to let Clover squirm against me to get some relief.
I just… liked it. I certainly didn’t need to shove a tail up her ass and prance her around on a leash. I guess I just like that, too.
“You fucking fool,” I mutter, adjusting my crown.
But even if I’m an old orc in my final days, I’m not dead. Not yet. Clover’s scent is intoxicating on my fingers. I swore I’d never let a human sour my bed. I don’t even want an orc beside me in bed, much less a fucking human.
“Damn it,” I growl, pulling my fingers away from my face. “I’ll tend to my needs tonight. Then my head won’t be so fucked up.”
It’s unusual for an orc not to take another bride after the grieving period is over.
We’re driven by instincts, and breeding is one of them.
We enjoy it as much as humans, possibly more.
Right now, there are probably orgies going on in every one of our cities.
Some are strictly for unmarried orcs; some are for married couples.
There might even be a few human pets in the mix.
But that’s not what I need. And Clover certainly isn’t.
I wanted to be left alone in my final days.
Uzrirgard barely needs a king. After I’m gone, they’ll manage just fine without me.
I don’t know which Lord will be chosen to take my throne, but I’m sure they’ll find ruling Uzrirgard as mindless a task as I do.
“Almost time for lunch,” I sigh, rising from my throne.
Clover makes it hard to stay lonely and miserable.
She’s still a little scared of me, and that’s certainly understandable since I made her romp around my room on a leash with a tail up her ass.
But she’s dragging light through my fortress of isolation wherever she goes.
Forcing me to think about things I’ve tried to forget.
Forcing me to remember I was something else before I became unnecessary.
She’s not my pet. Not my gift. There’s no dehumanizing her because being human isn’t to her detriment. She’s too vibrant for the darkness in their hearts.
I walk into the hallway, past the portraits of the orcs chosen to haunt these hallowed halls. Lords. Ladies. Generals. Those are the older portraits. The newer ones include scientists, engineers, and other notable figures who helped us adapt human technology to meet our needs. Then we surpassed it.
I stop in front of the painting of Lord Varfu. We grew up together and he was once my closest friend, before I fully understood how many friends I would lose along the way.
“You didn’t have a problem with humans, did you?” I sigh. “You even let one of your sons marry a human. But I wonder how you’d have felt if you’d lived long enough to see what they are truly capable of.”
Lord Varfu doesn’t reply. None of the ghosts ever do.
They just haunt my halls, reminding me of good times and bad.
Unfortunately, because of how many orcs died in The Great War, there are more bad memories interlaced with these paintings than good ones.
So much needless death. So many families wiped out.
Even with reparations, some bloodlines didn’t survive.
“The weight of yours will always be on my shoulders,” I growl, staring at Lord Varfu’s face, then glancing at the orcs beside him. “And yours. I promise we did everything we could. There just… there wasn’t enough time.”
Bloodlines are important to orcs. We honor those who made us who we are.
My bloodline is a little more complicated, because we live so much longer than the rest of the orcs.
But my father and grandfather’s paintings are in one of the halls.
I’m not sure where the next king will choose to hang mine.
I doubt he’ll rule Uzrirgard from this old fortress.
I’ve let this place become little more than a tomb.
A tomb that now has rays of human-sized sunshine, breaking through the cracks.
“She’s probably in the library,” I say to myself, walking to the door.
The door slides open and I’m not surprised to see Clover sitting at one of the tables, comically small in a chair that’s much too big for her. She looks up and smiles when she sees me.
“Thank you so much for the clothes,” she says, rising to her feet. “I wasn’t sure what to wear first. Do you like this dress?”
She’s wearing a light lavender dress that makes her look like something out of an old orc fairy tale.
The color suits her. It’s soft against her pale skin, bringing out a warmth in her complexion that I hadn’t noticed before.
The fabric is silk, flowing and delicate, clearly made by orc hands but tailored to fit a human frame.
“Doesn’t matter if I like it,” I growl. “You’re the one who has to wear it.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know… if you picked any of them out,” she says apprehensively. “If there is something specific you want me to wear.”
“No,” I say, letting my eyes linger on her body longer than I should before turning away. “I told Lady Frax’mo to send some clothes her gift could wear.”
“Oh, okay,” she says, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“It’s time for lunch,” I growl, walking to the door of the library. “Go revive us some sandwiches.”
“Do you want grog with lunch today?” she asks.
“Nah, not in the mood right now,” I answer. “Maybe tonight.”
I bite my tongue as soon as I say it. But a few drinks later won’t impact me like drinking all day does. That was enough to cloud my judgment and make me weak. I won’t let that happen again. I can take care of my own needs without her squirming on my fucking dick like a little human tease.
Clover trails behind me but I head to the dining hall once she goes into the kitchen.
I can wait for my food. I don’t need to watch her revive it.
My meals used to be served like this all the time, but I can handle it myself when I’m alone.
I guess I won’t have that problem while I have a human living with me.
I’m still not sure what to do with her. Not really.
I’ve considered taking Lord Frax’mo up on his offer.
I thought about it a lot after I woke up today and remembered how weak I was last night.
Something still gives me pause. I can’t bring myself to send her away for some reason.
Maybe I really have been alone in this fucking fortress for too long.
I didn’t realize how clouded my judgment had become.
“It looks like all the sandwiches are the same,” Clover announces as she walks in with two plates and puts them down.
“Yes, they are,” I confirm. “They’ll be different when the groceries for next week are delivered. They should arrive in a few days.”
“Good, I was thinking we would run out soon,” she says, glancing back toward the kitchen. “I’m going to fix a glass of water. Do you want one?”
“Sure, might as well bring me a glass,” I growl.
Clover returns to the kitchen, and I begin eating my sandwich. I’m not used to waiting for others to join me, so I finish half of it before she brings the water. It’s basically a snack for me. Probably a full meal for her, considering what I remember about human sandwiches.
“Are you going to be busy for the rest of the day?” she asks as she sits down.
I glare at her for a moment. She always asks about my schedule. Truthfully, I didn’t have much to keep me busy today. If I were alone, I’d just wander the halls, rather than finding things to do in my office and throne room.
“I’ll be free after dinner,” I growl, sipping my water. “I’ll probably watch another movie. You can join me if you want.”
“Okay,” she says, a hint of excitement in her voice. “Another one like last night?”
“Something less somber,” I mutter, then glance at her again. “Maybe one you can actually understand this time.”
“That would be nice,” she says, looking at me with a smile. “I was able to follow along with the one last night fairly easily, since I knew part of the story. I would have been lost if you weren’t explaining some of it, though.”
“Most of our older movies were never dubbed over for humans, especially the ones that are more for propaganda than entertainment. But since the Reparations Treaty, we’ve shared some of our new releases with your country,” I say. “I can’t imagine movies about orcs are very popular there.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she sighs, eating some of her sandwich and sipping her water. “By the way, are there any books in the library that would help me learn orcish?”
“Why do you want to learn orcish?” I ask, surprised.