Alchimia Rex

The Chieftess had been crippled, awaiting the slow treatment to eat away at the parasite much as it was trying to eat out of her.

The Succubus was similarly unconscious, unresponsive to any form of stimuli, though no one was sure why.

Sheel could have qualified, she was old enough she was practically a matron, but the Hobgoblin was no warrior.

All the tribe had left was Urtha.

Urtha, who everyone knew was not genuinely joined with the Father.

Urtha, the one warrior who had been Chieftess herself, the position taken from her, twice.

This was her perfect opportunity to reclaim her lost power, at least until the current Chieftess returned to full health. That should be more than enough time to fix this whole “divorce” nonsense. It was their life on the line, they were the ones to stand at the front, to fight.

Having a human rely on a weakling would get both killed. To make matters worse, the death of a human meant other maidens that could have broken out of the feral curse wouldn’t have.

The world was unforgiving to weakness.

It was her right and duty to take charge, and it was the perfect chance for her to strike to regain the lost power the Father had gathered. Some part of her was certain she could even expand on that, to gain something greater than everything she’d lost.

Instead, she sat at the pier, gazing at the water, suppressing the deep shudder of watching the blackness underneath.

Her thoughts lingered on the first time she'd seen Rick, the human who’d struck another human to try and escape. At the time, her annoyance had been more to the sister who’d thought it necessary to tackle him to the ground.

At least the human would learn from his mistake, she had thought. Humans did not win against maidens, they were delicate things, to be protected.

The Vampires turning him into a sacrifice to sate their thirst for cruelty had enraged her. To kill something meant you could not tolerate their existence to continue. Killing a human was to be scared of the human, someone who could not even fend for themselves in this world of the strong.

It was cowardice of the highest degree.

While everyone had been worried whether the Succubus and the Vampire would fight, Urtha and her sisters had been witness to the impossible.

The human had fought like a warrior, bled like a warrior, and won, declaring his victory with the same power any other warrior would.

He’d won against a maiden, broke her spirit, made her flee in terror.

It had stirred something deep inside of her.

Urtha had offered her strength to fight the Vampires both out of revenge as well as to satiate that curiosity, see the kind of maidens that had picked this strange tiny warrior for a companion.

A charmer that could take the rebellious slaves of the tribe and turn them to eager supporters. A healer that could bring back a human on the brink of death. And a warrior that fought more like a huntress chasing after their prey.

And the defeated blood-sucker, though there was nothing impressive about that one.

The tribe had fallen in line behind the Sabertooth, crowning her Chieftess. Urtha challenged her of course, twice they fought, and twice she lost so thoroughly there was no room for questioning who was the more powerful maiden.

The fact that the new Chieftess only ever sang praise for the human when asked stoked Urtha's curiosity and interest further.

And the very first thing he goes and does upon recovering was poison every human in the tribe. Even now, she wasn't certain HOW he'd done it, but she had no doubt he was the reason.

He could’ve had the Chieftess crush her and any opposition. Instead he took the event as an opportunity to humiliate Urtha in front of the tribe, snatching what little power she’d held from right under her nose.

And the very first thing he did right after was proposition to her. He even followed the sacred rites. However, she’d come to understand the danger a human like him presented, and had been of half a mind to end him and accept the brutal death that the Chieftess would unleash upon her.

Then they'd formed a bond, having shown her the smiling faces of her sisters as they celebrated and partied, playing the heart-thumping drums he had gifted to the tribe. A gift made with promises of a better life awaiting for them.

And… and… and…

Everything about the Father felt as though she was trapped in an earthquake.

One moment he would act with the bravery of a hundred warriors, the next he would utter insanity about the sun dying one day in the future, and a moment after he’d go against the very wisdom of the world to propose humans should be left to fend for themselves.

She wasn't even sure if the reason why he’d survived the assassination had been because he'd saved himself or not.

The others insisted it was likely another of his "miracles," that he'd somehow beaten back and frightened off whatever had crippled both the Succubus and their Chieftess. Urtha's gut told her that was impossible, but she didn't know what to believe anymore, much less prove it.

A winter ago, she would've marched straight up to the foul-smelling place and claimed him for her own there and then. Broken bones be damned, she'd make it clear who was in charge, and they would reshape the city into a proper tribe.

She’d turn it into a place where the strong could properly decide who they wished to risk their life for, a place where the weak were protected and made to help, not left to starve.

Yet she knew that the Urtha of a winter ago would not have been able to take the city while only losing a handful of sisters; no, if it’d been her making the choices, many more of her tribe would be dead.

It was a feat she wouldn't be able to accomplish even as she was now.

Her fingers caressed the "mohawk braid" he'd gifted her during the marriage ceremony, the wind gently brushing against her face.

"Mind if I take a seat?"

She greeted Rick with a stiff nod. “You reek.”

His white clothes looked out of place, like he’d put on something lifeless. There was little of him that could be seen, only his eyes, and the hint of the scars peeking up his neck from underneath the cloth that covered his face.

“I guess I do,” he admitted, removing the pieces covering his head. The man took a deep breath out of the sea breeze, black hair sticking to his sweat. “It’s suffocating in there.”

She only made an affirming sound, eyes straight back to the water.

The silence yawned between them, only the sound of the waves crashing against the pier persisted.

“Before coming to this world, I’d been in a relationship with a woman, human of course.” The Father didn’t meet her gaze when she glanced his way, his black eyes lingered on the horizon as he spoke. “We were together for almost a decade. We both saw marriage as mostly unnecessary, we’d get to it if or when it became relevant.” He sighed. “And when I thought the time had come, I asked the big question and… she left. Just… gone. No messages, no explanations, nothing. Gone.”

Urtha considered his words for a moment. “She sounds like a coward.” She’d been told by Spikes that the Father came from a world where humans sought to pair-bond rather than having multiple partners… the concept was weird.

“I thought she’d died. She’d left for work like every other day, and didn’t come back.” His reply came with a strain in his voice, a tension in his brows. “It took me a month looking for her, I called the… keepers of the law, her job, her family... Eventually got a message from her brother to stop looking because she didn’t want to talk to me.” He shook his head slightly. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much if she’d just told me why.” The human turned to look at her. “I owe you an explanation.”

The Orc felt as if she’d prefer the wood underneath her to give way and for the bottomless blackness of the sea to swallow her up. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s how adult relationships should work,” he stated, as if it was a fact everyone was told at some point in life. “Different people work differently, think differently, feel differently. If there’s no communication… the problems only grow.” Rick leaned forward slightly, gripping his knees and squeezing. “I never saw our relationship as a marriage, not the way I define it at least. As far as I was concerned, we were mostly partners in convenience. I thought it’s what you wanted too.”

It was. It had been. Now she wasn’t sure anymore. “Is that why you were scared? Because I asked for something you don’t want to give?” She blurted out the question and grimaced immediately, wanting to swallow it back up.

“What scared me was that you spoke the truth… about cowards,” he answered before she could say anything else.

"What?"

His voice strained. "I killed Thorley because I was terrified."

"That… doesn't make sense." She frowned.

"Doesn't it? The man had maidens who were willing to die for him at the drop of a hat and without a bond to force them to act." He huffed. "He'd played the whole city like a fiddle, keeping them nicely wrapped around his finger and under his heel even as he squeezed them like an old rag." Another sour chuckle accompanied his words. "The instant he figured us out… he would've taken everything."

Urtha stared at him for a long moment.

Then laughed.

"What's so funny?" He asked with mild indignation.

"You are," she answered. "The little man's head would have exploded after a day of trying to make sense of you." She’d know, her own felt like it should’ve burst like ripe fruit weeks ago.

"Haha. Funny." He rolled his eyes, combing his hair with his fingers, then fell silent and stared into the distance again.

Another silence followed.

Urtha took a short breath. "I speak of honor and protecting our partners, and not once have I kept you from harm. I very nearly attacked you." She stared at the dark water beneath her, feet dangling over the splash of the waves. "You are right in ending this union."

"I didn't say I wanted to break things off." His words made the Orc's breath hitch, and she dared not move, listening intently. His hand touched her shoulder. "I'm doing this because I want us to give a real relationship a shot."

Urtha wanted to smile, to feel some relief of his admission of wishing to be with her. But she couldn’t. The Orc pinched one of the planks of wood on the pier and ripped it off. Then she took the wood and squeezed it until all that was left was a ball of splinters she dropped into the water. "Every man I lay with, I break."

"You're going to need to be more specific."

Her brows furrowed. "There is no mystery, when it comes to men I…"

"Can't hold back?"

Urtha's shame burned within her. For a moment, she thought he'd misheard her, but his touch remained, warm against her shoulder. Looking over her shoulder, she found his gaze. "Do you know of a way?"

"Not exactly, no instant miracles under my sleeve. But we could start by helping you relieve some pressure."

Her jaw clenched slightly. "I will hurt you."

"Only if you touch me." Rick's lips twisted into a grin, one that only grew at her confusion. "I think that's something we can work with while you learn how to properly relax."

This time, she growled. "I know how to relax."

"Give me your hand, palm up."

The maiden didn't hesitate, extending her arm away from herself. "You can stand on it if you'd like." She declared with a self-assured smirk, one that turned into confusion when he pulled out an empty glass vial from his pocket. "What's this?"

"Our unfortunate test subject." He placed it on her palm. "Now hold still." With his left hand, he caressed the base of her neck, while the other did the same for the inside of her wrist. "Tell me what you were thinking of that day, before the argument."

"I’d been thinking that I… like your scars." She spoke breathlessly, shuddering.

His touch moved up the inside of her arm, reaching a spot near her elbow, Urtha-

CRACK

Both of them turned back to her hand, now closed, glass shards trailing over the edge into the water. Shame coursed through Urtha like a fire, burning her cheeks and throat, her lips twisting as she threw what was left of the vial with a growl.

The maiden moved to stand, but the Father’s touch left enough pressure to stop her.

"So, my scars?" He carried on as if nothing had happened, leaning away, reaching up and untying the white cloth, followed by taking off his shirt. "These? Can't say I mind them much, but everyone else gets uncomfortable."

Her annoyance dissipated in a single sharp inhale, she couldn't look away, her eyes trailed the contours of his chest. Rick had gained a light tan over the past few weeks, it made the crisscrossing pale lines stand out all the more. Urtha found herself swallowing with a dry throat, tusks itching.

She’d seen men naked, dozens of them, this should not have ensnared her attention like it did. Yet never had she seen a man with quite this chest, this confidence in his form, adorned with scars that had been hard earned and not something imposed upon them by another’s cruelty.

It was as if she were a green sprout on her first bedding night all over again. Except the human before her lacked any of the shy apprehension or fear.

"Battle scars are…" She grunted slightly when his hand on her shoulder reached the base of her neck.

"Exotic?" He wondered, genuine curiosity as he sat right there, within her reach. "Because Orcs can't scar easily?"

She didn't want to think; she wanted to touch him, but his warning lingered in her mind, her hands hovering in the air. "Maybe."

Rick teased her with a cocky smile, following her gaze and trailing a finger up to caress the pale wound all the way from his shoulder to his ribs, an injury that, had it been any deeper, would’ve likely rendered his heart into pieces. "An Orc like you, you can grow whole limbs back without a scratch… A scar could only be from a fierce battle, not from fighting just any old weakling."

The only thing she could do was nod, breath short.

"Do you find scars on maidens hot too?"

It was a question that made the burning in her face intensify, spreading down to her chest. Urtha's tusks itched at the thought, gaze breaking off, though the spell lingered. His words had conjured an image into her mind, and she could not get rid of it.

Monica, the Chieftess, the maiden with a body tempered in a thousand battles to the death; a peerless warrior that stood proudly and shamelessly in her imagination.

There was a mischievous twinkle in Rick's eyes, as if he’d suddenly become a Succubus. The man leaned closer, hot breath washing against her tusk and cheek.

"Scoot a bit away from the edge."

Urtha quickly obliged, and Rick walked around her so he'd be standing in front of her, his exposed chest close enough to her face she’d nearly go cross-eyed, so close she caught a hint of sweat in his scent, her mouth watered, she wanted nothing but to lean forward and taste his skin.

"Remember, no touching." The man straddled her right thigh, ignoring the nearly pleading look. He stared up at her from his new seat. "But you can touch yourself."

"I…"

"If you want me to stop, just say the word." He stated simply, his hands moving down her forearm and then back up towards her shoulder. The touch was so soft it tickled, yet it left fire in its wake as he squeezed her muscle with shameless interest.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and shook her head, face feeling like that time she'd fallen face-first into a campfire. "Don't…"

"Don't?" His fingers paused on her collarbone, fluttering.

"Don't stop."

Rick chuckled and obliged, his hands moving further down. Urtha used her free hand to rip the flimsy cloth covering her chest before it could get in the way, thrusting her large breasts out fully, proud and naked, thirsting for his touch. And as he trailed his way across her green skin, her shoulders trembled slightly, her body had not received such soft caresses in… a long time.

She found herself craving his attention.

"So firm," he praised, drinking her in, continuing his way down, teasing paths around her breasts but leaving them achingly untouched. The caress tickled at her ribs before proceeding to her belly button, circling around it twice.

She grunted, breathing in sharp lungfuls, her body burning.

"You like powerful strong maidens," his voice had gained a husky undertone to it, sending shivers through her bones. "You'd enjoy it if I were as strong as one."

Urtha nodded, biting her lip. "You... you wouldn't break." Her voice shuddered, her body trembling under the unrelenting teasing of his fingers.

"I think it's more than that; look at how worked up you are from just this much." One hand moved up, back to her aching breasts, the other teasing at the hem of her pants. "What do you do when you get this riled up, Urtha?"

"I fight. I train." The confession was rewarded with his warm hand grasping at the underside of her breast, hefting it, squeezing. Her eyelids fluttered, fingers tightening their grip on the planks underneath, drawing creaking complaints from the wood.

"So you keep looking for a strong and capable warrior to test yourself against," he whispered with that sweet voice. "And you work yourself up more, seeing that sweat, those muscles, the scars, that unrelenting force of will..."

Her imagination ran wild, a thousand images piling one atop the other and releasing an earth-shattering force through her. The stream crashed through her as abruptly as it was intense. Urtha's eyes shot open as his fingers dipped lower, electricity coursing through her, hips thrusting into the air, her entire body exploding with fiery bliss.

"Fuck!"

The cracking of wood could hold no more, and suddenly there was nothing underneath her but air. Elation turned to panic, she plunged into the water, cold wetness attacking her from every direction, the sloshing water and foam turning her deaf and blind.

Her first instinct was to lash out at anything in an attempt to avoid sinking, but the faintest hint of a thought reminded her that Rick should have been right there with her, and any sudden move she made could break him in half.

The half-second of hesitation cleared her vision; she spotted one of the pillars the pier was held on and reached out, using it to pull herself to the surface and taking deep breaths. "Father!" She shouted looking for her human.

"I'm fine!" His arm waved at her, the man floating several meters further away from the pier.

Her sudden bucking had catapulted the human into the sea.

For once, Urtha was thankful for the cold water, it helped keep her from igniting in shame. Had she been so worked up that a simple touch had pushed her over the edge? If the tribe knew, they’d never let her live it down.

She waited for him, holding onto the wooden column and watching as he made his way back.

"I should've…"

"Don't sweat it, just help me get back on," he replied without a pause.

"Yes, Father." Feeling like a chided sprout, she pulled herself out of the water while gingerly holding him in her free arm.

Urtha stared at the part of the pier that had been torn under her moment of passion and scowled.

"I'll fix this." At least in this she could find determination.

"Better it than me, wouldn’t you say?" Making a show of his arms and chest, he winked at her, lips parting into a dazzling smile. "Do you feel better?"

The question brought a fresh wave of embarrassment through her, but she couldn't deny that she had in fact enjoyed it. It was as if a bit of weight had been lifted from her soul.

"Maybe next time…"

He gave her forearm a friendly slap and a squeeze. "Next time we'll figure something else out. Slow and steady." With a shrug, he stepped away to dry off as best he could. "And maybe I can start working out with you."

"Working… out?" She hesitated.

"Yeah, do some human-appropriate sparring, lift some weights, that kind of thing."

His words summoned an image that branded itself into her mind: the Father wearing nothing but a sheen of oil, muscles taut and strained, grunting as his scarred body heaved and pushed against her, foamy waves crashing in the background... she bit her lip.

"That… would be nice."