The Story of a Lifetime Ch. 12

Author's Note: Here it is at long last, the grand finale to Amaranthea's story! Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who has joined me on this journey. To everyone who has been following since the beginning, to everyone who is just starting now, to those who left kind and supportive messages and those who just read silently: thank you.

Being left behind was never fun, especially when your husband was off traveling halfway across the continent without you. But by that point I was feeling nauseated half the time I stood up too quickly, so the idea of bouncing on the hard seat of a horse-drawn cart up a hundred miles of dirt road was not very appealing anyway.

"Davvie never made me feel this sick," I told my stomach accusingly.

I didn't get an answer back, of course. It had only been just over three months since the orcish-made fertility rune on my navel had flashed brightly, telling me-- and all the orcs who'd been in the hot springs with me-- that Davor and I were pregnant with our second child. It would probably still be another three months before I could even feel the baby kicking.

Realising that I'd been standing there with my hand over my stomach and mooning for an embarrassingly long time, I huffed and got back to pulling the ugly weeds growing between the neat rows of medicinal herbs in the clan healer's garden.

Pregnancy for someone with mixed human and elven blood like me lasted a full year-- it was much too early for me to be spending all of my time wistfully thinking about babies. There was still a lot of work left to be done today if I wanted to catch up enough to be able to take tomorrow off so I could spend the day celebrating my husband's return home.

I bent my back and set to it again, picking through the greenery until the sun was just kissing the horizon. I had just enough time to wash my hands before rushing off to pick up Davor Junior from the clan's child-minders.

Unfortunately, Davor's caravan wasn't expected back until after nightfall, so little Davvie had to go to bed without a story from his daddy. My husband had been gone two weeks already on his third trip as the clan's emissary, and the household felt empty without him. The two of us who'd been left behind were antsy to have him back.

I was already in bed by the time he got home from the long trip, and Davor did his best to come into the large, family-sized tent without disturbing us. But my hearing was pretty keen-- elven ears weren't long and pointed for nothing-- and I heard him coming before he even made it to the front door. I appreciated my orc husband trying to be quiet, however, since getting Junior to fall asleep the first time had been hard enough.

"Hey, you," I whispered as he stepped into the section of the grand tent that we'd partitioned off into a bedroom.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he answered apologetically. "Sorry, my heart."

"I was going to wait up for you, but then it was late and..."

"Don't you worry about it, sweet Amaranthea." Davor dipped down and pressed tender lips against my cheek, and I drew in a deep breath to capture the warm, masculine scent of him.

The smell of the man I loved made me feel calmer and safer on a primal level, and I smiled to myself in the darkness as he quietly stripped down and joined me under the sheets. If he'd gotten home an hour or two earlier, I might have been peppy enough to do more than just cuddle with him under the covers, but as it was... Well, he was damn good at cuddling anyway. The feeling of his warm, strong arms around me brought a feeling of comfort and security so deep that I was asleep again almost before he'd finished settling in.

The first thing I noticed in the morning was the bleary dawn light struggling to shine through the thick siding of our home. The second I noticed was the feeling of Davor's chest against my back. There was no firm prod of morning wood against my backside that morning-- not yet, anyway.

Feeling a bit mischievous, not to mention lonely and a little horny, I shimmied and slid down until the rounded curve of my ass was nestled directly against the front of Davor's pelvis. Then I started a slow rocking movement, rubbing my ass against him in slow circles while he snored softly behind me. I wasn't wearing much more than a thin shift, and Davor had gotten into bed wearing even less than that, so there wasn't much separating my rear from his bare cock.

It wasn't long before my wiggling had its intended effect, and I felt something starting to shift against me.

"Mm?" he mumbled groggily as I pulled the blankets up over my head and crawled into the dark space beneath our blankets.

I reached out to pick back up where I'd left off, taking hold of his half-hard and gently squeezing it. His member slowly came to life in my hand, growing longer, wider, and harder as blood rushed to fill it in response to my teasing.

A long, drawn-out inhalation told me that Davor was all the way awake now, and when I pushed on his hip he obediently rolled onto his back for me. I shifted myself around until I was on all fours between his knees with his early-morning erection pointing up directly towards my face. It was pretty damn dark under the blankets, but elves could see almost as well in the darkness as orcs.

"Good morning?" he asked more than said, whispering quietly to avoid waking the toddler in the next room over.

"Oh, it's about to be," I whispered in my best, most sultry voice, as I reached out to take hold of his shaft again with a confident hand. The first time I'd ever seen Davor's bare cock, almost four years ago, I'd been pretty damn intimidated by the sheer size of the thing-- not to mention the rich, green colour that you could only find on an orc. I had been horny enough to get over any hesitation pretty quickly, but the concern had still been there.

Now, after being together again for almost a year and a half, I had gone from somewhat experienced to totally confident when it came to handling this particular cock.

I ran my fist down from the tip of him down to the root, flexing my hand and lightly squeezing the base of his cock. Then I let my grip slide upwards in a long-- very, very long-- and slow motion. The action of squeezing from bottom to top had the extra effect of coaxing out a thick drop of precum that glittered at the apex of his cock when Davor rolled the blankets back to get a better look at me. I traced a thumb over the rounded tip to gather that slick fluid, and spread it downwards to lubricate the underside of his head to make it easier to stroke him.

"You seem to have woken up in a very-- ah--"

I cut him off by opening my mouth and simply engulfing the top half of his cock with no warning or buildup. Davor had the good sense to bite down on the groan that threatened to erupt from him. Right then would have been a very, very inconvenient time for Davor Jr. to be up and about.

"Shit," he whispered hoarsely as I launched into a sudden, aggressive assault on his stiff cock. I held his thick base in my hand, keeping him steady and providing broader stimulation, while I gorged myself on the top of his shaft.

I pressed down until the tip of him slid past my tongue and just into my throat, quietly praying to all the orcish, elvish, and human gods that my morning sickness wouldn't act up today and ruin the welcome-home gift I had planned. I brought my tongue into the mix too, swishing it across the underside of Dav's cock while I bobbed my head aggressively.

His cock came out of my mouth with a lewd, wet popping noise as I pulled my head back. Then, before my man could even speak a word, I moved my mouth to the space just under his shaft, fixing my lips around one of his heavy, round testicles.

Davor groaned pitifully as I sucked his large ball into my mouth, cradling it with my lips and stroking it with my tongue at the same time. The taste of him, a deep and earthy musk mixed with salt and something else I couldn't identify, flooded my mouth as I sucked first on one testicle, then the other. His small sounds of shocked pleasure only added to my satisfaction as I lavished his testes with love until they were slick with my saliva.

Then I treated him to a brief swipe of my tongue up the seam in the center of his sack between the two large balls, teasing the extra-sensitive nerves with a lick. Then I gave Dav's testes a goodbye kiss, one on each, before letting my mouth follow the line upwards. I clamped my lips down right at the base of his cock, pressing my mouth against his underside and slowly sliding my entire head upwards so I could stroke the full, glorious length of Davor's cock with my plush lips as I made my way back up towards the swollen head.

"Oh shit," my orc whispered again as I wrapped my lips tightly around his head and started sucking once more. All the sticky precum that had accumulated while I'd been teasing his balls rolled onto my tongue now, until all I could taste was the salty tang of male arousal. "Oh, I missed you so much, Amy."

"I missed you too," I tried to tell him, but the words were thoroughly muffled by his cock as I deliberately relaxed my throat and started swallowing inch after inch of his hefty green cock. The humming of my mumbled speech around the thick impediment in my throat earned another groan of approval, and I started happily humming away around his shaft as I bobbed my head up and down his length with renewed vigour.

One of my hands strayed upwards to replace my mouth on his sack. Davor reached down to stroke my hair as I cradled and palmed his scrotum even as I worked to take him even deeper into my throat. I'd grown pretty adept at pleasing my husband, and I was pulling out all the stops now. Nothing says "welcome home" like an early morning blowjob.

The tenderness of his touch on my head told me he'd missed me as much as I'd missed him. He'd no doubt been just as lonely, too.

Some women might worry about their man's faithfulness when he left for a two week work trip, but I knew Davor like I knew my own heart, and I trusted him implicitly. He never strayed, would never stray: he was loyal to me just like I was loyal to him, and I tried to tell him just how much that meant to me with each wet slurping noise that slipped out of my mouth around his cock.

That's not to say that neither of us would ever sleep with someone else-- we'd enjoyed a threesome and even foursome together, after all. But I knew he would never cheat, just like he knew I wouldn't either.

I scooped up my orc's weighty, moss-green sack in my hand and lightly pressed his testes against him. Then I gently squeezed and rolled them, as if I could massage them into kicking up production, and Davor groaned again. His balls were so large that I could barely hold both of them in one hand, and I knew firsthand just how much sperm those heavy things could churn out-- it was no coincidence that I'd ended up pregnant with his child not once, but twice. When he let loose, he could damn near fill a bucket with his pleasure, and the memory of feeling his powerful orgasms inside of me was enough to make my core tingle with growing warmth.

Inspired by the taste of his precum and the sounds of his arousal, I redoubled my efforts. I brought my other hand up to take hold of the bottom half of his shaft, using the slickness of my own saliva to lubricate my pumping fist. as I jerked off my orc's cock in time with the motions of my neck.

"Oh, fuck," he ground out as I dipped my head down to take him into my throat. It was hard to take his full, prodigious length down my throat without gagging, but my fist around his cock gave him the feeling of deeper penetration without me needing to worry about my gag reflex. It was obviously a pretty good replacement, if the tightening of his strong hand against my head was anything to go by. "Fuck, Amaranthea."

I groaned again around his cock, letting the vibration of the hum add another layer of stimulation. His cock flexed in both my hand and my throat in response, and I felt his testes start withdrawing from my hand as they pulled in towards his body.

Oh, he was getting close now.

"Mm, mm," I hummed around my husband's swollen shaft as I picked up the pace even more. I bobbed my head faster, pumping my lips and tongue and hand up and down my very favourite cock in the whole wide world. I looked up and found him staring back at me, and I held his intense gaze as I pushed my mouth down and back up his cock. "Mmm-mm mm?"

Dav's shaft flexed again, even harder before, until his cock felt like a bar of iron in my mouth. I could feel the tension in his legs against my arms, and in the way his hand gripped the back of my head-- not pulling me down to choke me, but not exactly letting me go, either-- and I saw it in his face. And I heard the desperation in his deep voice when he managed a strangle, "Ack."

Then his shaft was pulsating in my fist and mouth. The full length of him flexed, expanding like a snake after a large meal. I dipped my head lower again, pushing my mouth down over his cock until the head of him was embedded in my throat again as I swiped my tongue along his sensitive underside.

His testicles seemed to shudder before drawing up even more tightly against him. Then the muscle beneath them gave another heavy flex, mirrored by the swelling of his cock in my throat as he flexed again. All the muscles along Davor's body gave one more shudder before his pleasure overtook him and his eyes shut in visible ecstasy.

The length of his cock throbbed in my hand and throat, and I felt a sudden rush of slick heat course from him to coat the back of my throat. I couldn't even taste his ejaculation as he twitched and fired another rope of cum straight down my throat, but I could feel the comforting weight and heat of it as he filled my belly. Filled my belly again, I thought with a chuckle as I remembered the baby growing in my womb.

"Uhh," he all but moaned as I bobbed my head up and down his length again. I pumped my tight grip up his shuddering shaft as he twitched against me, in time with another wave of orcish cum pouring down my throat. "Gods, Amy. That's so good."

I kept my lips wrapped tightly around his thick shaft and swallowed every drip as he released the last of his pleasure. I wasn't going to let even a single drop go to waste. His cock swelled and flexed a few more times as I finally slid my head back enough for the thick head to be resting against my tongue instead of my tonsils.

Salty, musky flavour filled my mouth as another dribble rolled out from him to coat my tongue. I swallowed a mouthful of my own spit and whatever remnants were dripping from him with a muffled, "Mm."

Then his orgasm was past, and I lifted my head off of him to draw a breath of fresher air. "Now it's a good morning."

"Fuck, you're so amazing, my love." He wrapped strong hands behind my shoulders and pulled up, and I let him drag me up towards him.

My naked breasts brushed against his muscular body as I crawled up to his face, stiff nipples tracing a line against his hard chest. Then our mouths met, and we let out breaths and tongues mingle. He didn't seem to mind the taste of his own cum on my breath-- if anything, the brush of his tongue against the inside of my mouth only spurred his passion on.

"No time for that," I panted out when I finally managed to pull my face off of his. "Little Dav is going to be up any minute--"

"He can wait," my husband growled with mock intensity, and I laughed girlishly and rested a palm on the warm skin of his chest. His muscles were hard under my palm, but there was still a layer of soft fat to my man, which only made him more huggable and more enticing to squeeze or climb onto.

And I could already feel a faint stirring of hardness elsewhere, as his body started getting ready for a second round.

I ducked out of his hands, and Davor let me go with a low chuckle. His cock was still half-hard-- or maybe halfway hard again-- and a pearlescent drop glistened on the tip of him. One more drop of cum, which had probably been hidden in the length of his shaft. I dipped my mouth down and flicked my tongue over the top of him, sweeping up the thick drop of salty flavour before wrapping my lips around his head and giving a final, parting suck. Another hint of flavour coursed out as I drained him to the last drop before slipping out of the bed entirely.

"I'll be along in a moment, love," he promised as I pulled a brightly-coloured dress over my white shift, then picked out a pair of underwear to slip into. He watched me hungrily as I dressed again, and I could feel him trying to undress me with his eyes even as I was pulling my clothes into place. What a beast.

My beast.

"Ma?" a high, childish voice asked from the next room over. Davor Junior was up now-- by which I meant our child, not a pet name for Davor's cock, although that was also most of the way up. "Where's da?"

"He'll be out in a minute," I called in a sing-song voice as I stepped through the flap of our bedroom door.

My little green prince was standing in the main area, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well since his tusks started coming in, and even as I watched he reached up to scratch at the stubby points growing up from his lower jaw.

"If you keep picking, they'll never grow in," I warned as I swept forward to scoop him up into my arms. "You're getting so big now! Soon you'll be too big to carry."

Junior and I busied ourselves preparing breakfast, which meant that I started making food while he picked up ingredients at random and generally got in the way. I couldn't even remember what it was like to cook or go about my day without someone underfoot, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Davor the First joined us, and picked his son up to spin and toss him high enough to give me a mini anxiety attack. We didn't really know if Davvie was his son by blood: any one of three orcs could have been the father, although Davor had cum in me four times over those three days, compared to just one load from each of the other two. But it didn't matter who the biological father was; Davor was his dad.

And he was certainly the father of the child I carried now, the one who like to make me feel sick every--

"Oh, gods," I groaned, slapping a hand over my mouth and dashing from the room. Davor smoothly stepped in to handle the rest of the breakfast preparation while I heaved over the bucket we used as a garbage can. While cum wasn't a particularly amazing flavour in the best of circumstances, it tasted a lot worse coming back up.

Pregnancy wasn't all roses and sunshine.

The weather in the clanlands turned foul as winter finally took over again, and it was three months before the elders felt confident enough in the roads to send Davor out again. I would be joining him again for this trip-- my stomach had long since settled enough by then for travel to be an appealing prospect.

After a lot of back-and-forth, we decided to take Davvie Junior up North with us. He hadn't been to Amella since he and I passed through a year and a half ago, and I argued that he should have a chance to be familiar with the other half of his heritage. Davor was still worried about the matter of our son's safety, but between the two of us, our two longtime friends and fellow merchants, and the four warriors sent to be security for our group, we were going to be pretty secure.

The roads were still a bit dicey, and the five-day trip took nearly twice as long as we'd planned. But after nine days on the road, we finally found ourselves in Amella's capital city.

Trostis was the shining jewel of Amella, the seat of the crown, and my own hometown.

Returning home after time away was always a weird experience for me. It was probably hard for most people to tell whether the place they grew up in changed while they were away, or whether they were the ones who had changed. For me, it was much clearer: I was riding beside seven orcs, with a half-orc toddler on my lap and my stomach swollen around another mixed-race baby. Clearly it was me who had changed in my time away from the city, and the stares our group got from passersby only made it more obvious.

On foot, it was even easier to see how sour the looks we got were. People stared at the group of green-skinned men and women, and particularly at Davor and me.

When they saw the six-and-a-half foot tall orc with his broad shoulders and long tusks walking with a muscular arm wrapped around a curvy, visibly pregnant, half-elven woman, did they see a loving couple who had decided to try for another child after discussing it for months and succeeded after half a year of trying-- or did they just see a brutish orc and some poor, poor women he'd captured and knocked up? Or maybe they even saw me as some kind of fool or traitor, willingly throwing herself to the savages from the south?

Based on the way a few women actually turned their lips up when they looked in my direction, I think the latter was more accurate.

At six months, a human woman would have been two-thirds of the way through her pregnancy, while I was only at the halfway mark or so. My stomach had started stretching visibly and the baby bump was obvious on my narrow frame. But with my large breasts and wide hips, the rounded belly seemed... somehow right. I sometimes worried whether I still looked attractive as I swelled up, but Davor never stopped reminding me that he thought I was beautiful. He liked to say that I looked like some kind of fertility goddess... his libido had picked up almost as much as mine.

That connection, our love, helped buoy me as we received the worst welcome I'd ever experienced in my homeland. Had Amella really always been so narrow-minded?

The answer to that was obvious from the way the king of Amella had been treating his orcish guests this last year... or the last twenty years, to be honest. The First Fire Clan, with Davor as our emissary, had been trying to reach a new arrangement with our human-dominant neighbours since before I moved in with him. Trade with the orc clans might be tolerated in the small communities near the border, but orcs were not officially allowed to trade in Amella-- an outdated policy that hurt both of our peoples.

Recently, King Edward Greyhill had gone as far as allowing the orcs to plead their case for an open trade agreement in the royal court, but his answer was always the same: it was two letters long, and rhymed with "blow".

Nonetheless, Davor wasn't one to give up easily. This marked his fourth trip to the capital to appeal the decision, and the second time he would be permitted to appear before the crown itself. Part of me was worried about how Junior and I would be received by the infamously stodgy and racist nobility, but I wanted us both to be there, standing behind Davor. Maybe the sight of a half-human, half-elf-- the combination of another two very different people-- standing beside an orc would somehow remind the nobility that great things happened when races worked together. At the very least, I wanted a chance to stare down whoever was standing in the way of progress.

The court-attendant had the list of names and cases that would be presented, and arranged them in order of importance. Sometimes, the king would grow tired or frustrated and end the court session early, and those further down on the list would be out of luck entirely. Unsurprisingly, we'd been put right near the bottom, above the two ship captains arguing over who was responsible for their naval collision and the damages.

The last person in line ahead of us was arguing before the court now. He was a human man, pretty and flashy, with slicked-back hair. You could almost smell the sleaze on him.

He was apparently the owner of a casino, and was making his case against new laws that were aimed at shutting down gambling halls. The crux of his argument seemed to be that if the legal gambling sites were shuttered, it would only allow the unsavoury, illegal gambling pits to prosper. Jack argued that unlike those back-alley dice games, his casino-- with the unoriginal name of Jack's Den-- was an important part of the community and a source of tax revenue.

To illustrate his point, he introduced one of his employees, a very obviously pregnant human woman with long blonde hair falling in artfully arranged coils. It was actually nearly unfair how pretty her pale hair looked, and it was matched by an achingly beautiful heart-shaped face and the biggest blue eyes I had ever seen.

"This place, this job, they're incredibly important to me, your majesty," the woman, Poppy, told the assembled crowd. "It's more than just a workplace... It's like a family. Not many other businesses would keep a single mother-to-be like me on their staff, but Jack has always made it clear that my job is secure. It's not just his livelihood that's at stake here, your majesty, but also mine, those of all of my coworkers, and even my child's."

She put a pretty, well-manicured hand over her rounded belly as she delivered that last line, and I could actually see the moment the attitude in the room shifted. I couldn't help but admire the woman's perfect delivery. Was she even an employee of the Den, or had this Jack just hired a pregnant actress to back him up? Either way, it was clearly very effective, and the king said nothing for a few long moments as he pondered her words. I felt my heart lift slightly at his consideration: here was a man who actually listened to the people appealing to him, instead of simply pretending to care and then delivering a pre-planned answer.

"You have given us much to think about," his majesty the king finally said. "The passing of this law will be... delayed, so that we can consider the greater ramifications. You're dismissed."

The casino's owner bowed deeply as they retreated, while the woman curtsied somewhat shallowly-- but since she looked like she was just a few weeks from popping, no one held that against her.

Then it was finally our turn to be heard.

I hadn't been in the capital's castle since I was a little girl. Now it all seemed... so much smaller than I remember. I didn't like to talk about it, but my mother's family, the Farrons, were a lesser branch of a minor noble family. They had just enough political clout to stand in the back rows of the noble court, but not enough to actually wield it.

Not that any of my family's influence would help me now. Not after I'd left home with no intention of returning. Hells, I'd even left my surname behind when Davor and I got married.

When it was finally our turn to speak, after more than three hours of waiting uncomfortably behind the mostly human and dwarven courtiers, my name was just lumped in with my husband's: "Davor and Amaranthea of the First Fire Clan."

I was introduced alongside Davor, but I wasn't really part of the proceedings. Davor had an updated trade contract to read, which the king and his advisors were willing to listen to-- or at least pretend to listen to.

My job was basically just to stand beside him when he was first introduced, curtsy to the king, and then fade into the background while Davor argued his case. And Davor was surprisingly good at arguing, when he had a point he wanted to make.

As I stepped back to watch my husband fight for the future prosperity of our clan, I scanned the room again to see how the nobles were reacting. While it was true that the king was the one who made the decisions, the crown was often forced to act in accordance with the noble families' opinions, for fear of creating rifts. That kind of division, they feared, would leave them vulnerable to attacks from the big, bad orcs.

The queen, honey-haired and stoic, looked utterly indifferent to our appeal. No, it was worse than that: she looked disdainful. Contemptful.

I was sure that she would have liked little more than to see us thrown from the castle, maybe the whole city.

Around her, others were clearly of mixed feelings. Some looked disgusted at the mere idea that orcs should be allowed to mingle within their city, some seemed uncomfortable at the idea that orcs might prosper and have a chance to build up their legendary armies again, while some looked positively greedy. More trade meant more wealth, after all, and the noble families with lands in the southern stretches of the kingdom no doubt stood to make significant profits off of the new commerce. And, of course, some wealthy merchant families wanted to prevent a free trade agreement between Amella and the orcish clans, so that we would be stuck relying on their trade ships that came through the port cities in the Salt Eater clan's lands.

If the orcs could only trade through ocean ports, it meant that the merchant consortiums that controlled sea trade could continue to profit off of our desperation.

Ugh. Humans.

Then my eyes fixed on a face I didn't expect to see, and one I almost didn't recognise. A young woman stood behind the throne and off to the side. She had smooth, medium-brown skin, and the dark, cascading black hair that could only come from Sawarra, Amella's greatest trading partner across the sea. It took me a moment to place her beautiful face, since we were in such a different context from the first time I'd first met her, in front of a wall of lingerie in the city's finest clothier.

"Arabela?" I mouthed at her in shock as everything finally clicked into place for me. Before covering the cost of my order of fancy clothing, she had hinted at her "intimate" association with some noble type, but I had assumed she was only the arm-candy of some lesser noble. But her position, behind the throne... Was she the king's mistress?

I had heard gossip that King Edward had taken on an official mistress, in the style of his grandfather, who had been infamous for keeping a rotating cast of women on the side. And in her arms was a...

Holy shit, was that the king's child? Had Bella really worked her way into the king's bed and managed to get herself pregnant with his kid? Having the king's illegitimate heir would give her all kinds of subtle political power, not to mention a massive target on her back. But there she stood, looking radiantly beautiful and cradling her baby like there was nothing in the world she would rather be doing.

She smiled broadly as I recognised her, obviously having already spotted me. She shot me a wink to tell me that she'd noticed me noticing her, then we both turned our attention back to Davor as his speech came to a close.

"Beautiful words as ever, orc," King Edward offered with a gracious nod of his head.

Davor bowed slightly to accept the compliment, as if it wasn't deeply rooted in racism-- the king may as well have just said, "I'm surprised an orc can speak so eloquently."

"However, the courteous words do not change the facts," he went on, "nor do the mutually beneficial promises written into your contract. Amella and the orc nation are not at war, have not been for twenty-five years, but throughout our history these periods of peace have only ever been temporary. At this time, we fail to see how--"

He was cut off abruptly by a shrill cry from behind him. Arabela's baby wasn't doing much more than lodging a complaint about the general state of the world, and she quickly had the babe soothed and quieted again. But the way the king had immediately fixated on them at the smallest noise confirmed for me that this was definitely his child... and that Arabela was definitely at the center of his attention. And based on the queen's sudden rigid posture beside him, she was well aware of where her husband's preferences lay. Only one of them had borne him a child so far, after all.

Arabela apologized for the interruption with a pretty little curtsy, then mouthed something at his majesty that I couldn't catch. He looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded before turning back to address Davor and I once more: "The day has drawn on quite long. We will adjourn court for the day, and we can pick up this matter tomorrow in the morning."

With that, the king rose from his throne and everyone in the room dropped into a bow. He strode from the room from a door off to one side-- his wife, Queen Rosalyn Greyhill, left through a different door entirely. Then the noble court started slowly filing out of the room. Behind us, the two captains started bickering and complaining loudly as they realised they were going to have to wait another full day to be heard.

"I thought for sure he was going to say no again," Davor muttered under his breath as we waited our turn behind the more important personas, the words only audible to me because his mouth was so close to my ear.

"He definitely was," I agreed just as quietly. "I think the woman behind him, Arabela, said something to him about it."

"She's a nice lady, Arabela," he observed. I whipped my head around to stare at my husband in shock, and he had the decency to blush a little-- which made it hard to focus, since the hint of red under the green skin of his handsome face never failed to make me a little giddy. "Did I forget to mention that I met her when I was up here at the end of autumn? We even chatted for a little bit-- talked about you, actually. I didn't realise she was the king's, uh... whatever she is."

"How could you possibly have forgotten to tell me you met one of my only friends in this whole country? And you two even talked about--"

"Amy!" a melodic, feminine voice called. We both swiveled in time to see the woman in question stride through the thinning crowd, her simple but elegant white dress swishing delightfully as she wove her way towards us. Trailing a short distance behind her was another human woman, even younger than Bella and dressed in an even plainer dress, carrying the Sawarran woman's child in her arms.

"Bella!" I all but shouted as she swept forward to embrace me. We hugged tightly, holding each other with the kind of closeness that was only acceptable between lovers or gal-pals that were happy to see each other. Was it too much to call someone you had only ever met once your friend?

Despite not knowing each other well, it felt like Arabela and I had a bond of sorts.

"Nice to see you again," Davor said politely as Arabela and I held each other close. Some of the haughty looking folks still loitering nearby were giving the three of us some ugly stares, but our new companion didn't seem to mind.

"Lovely meeting you again," Arabela answered him when she and I finally separated. She gave him an appraising look-over with enough intensity that I was nearly jealous, before she finally turned her attention back to me. "And Amaranthea, Amy-- you look divine."

"Me? Look who's talking!" I waved a hand towards her pretty dress, the shape and cut of it so simple that it could only have been made by an expert. Anyone can make an outfit with enough frills to catch everyone's attention, but it took a real mastery of craft to make something that managed to be breathtakingly beautiful without being flashy or assuming-- I would have bet all the coins in my purse that this was another of Sophie's creations. "You look so beautiful, Bella. As always."

"No, I really mean it," she insisted. She put her petite hands on my shoulders and beamed at me with enough warmth to melt the icy mountains in the northern stretches of Duerstrom. "You're absolutely glowing, Amy. You look radiant. How far along are you?"

I couldn't help trying to match the intensity of her smile. There was something so infectious about her grin. "Six months... which is maybe four or five in human time."

"Wait, your pregnancy lasts even longer than a human's? Oh, honey, you poor thing."

"It's not all bad," I said as I traced a hand over the rounded bump that was visible even though the loose green dress I was wearing. "It's like the good parts just last a bit longer. And at least I only get a period every two to three months the rest of the time!"

"Well, on that topic," Davor cut in with an awkward cough, prompting a round of giggles from Arabela and me, "should I leave you two ladies alone to catch up?"

"I'm sure Arabela's too busy to spare the time..." I gave her an appraising look as I spoke.

"Nonsense! I'd love to, Amy. I feel like we have so much to catch up on."

We had walked a little as we talked, enough to reach the grand front entrance of the castle. Off to one side, Mazon and little Davvie were sitting on an excessively fancy bench-- seriously, did every damn seat in the place need to be made of imported whitewood and filigreed? The latter was stacking a handful of wooden blocks that one of the orcs in our clan had given us after her daughter outgrew them, while the former sat back and pretended to doze with eyes half-closed.

"And is that baby Davor?" Arabela exclaimed in delight once we got close enough for the two boys to look up and notice us.

She hunkered down in front of my son, and I almost gasped as she bunched up the fine fabric of her dress to get down to his level. The handmaid following her around did actually gasp, but Arabela seemed indifferent to whether the skirt was going to wrinkle or not... Apparently living on the lap of the king meant you didn't need to worry about small things like replacing expensive dresses. Mazon flashed Davor and I a questioning look as Bella stepped into their space, and my husband gave him a small nod that I think translated roughly to, "Yes, she's a friend; no, you don't need to pull any of her limbs off."

Mazon didn't get the same goopy look in his eyes that Ausk did when he looked at Davvie for too long, but his protective streak was a mile wide when it came to Davvie. Bless his big heart.

"You've gotten so big now, Davor!" she cooed. Davor Junior-- calling him Davor was a bit confusing when his dad was right there-- responded in his typical fashion, which is to say that he immediately got nervous, blushed, and shut down. He settled for handing her a block with letters of the orcish alphabet carved into its six faces, which Arabela accepted with the solemn dignity it deserved. "How old are you now?"

She seemed to realise that Davvie wasn't likely to give her an answer, as the last was directed at me.

"Three years old at the end of spring," I told her. "He's growing fast now-- although maybe not as fast as the other kids in the clan."

Davor and I exchanged a quick look as I said that last, communicating more information in a single glance than we could have fit into a dozen sentences. Davvie's aging had been a topic of a lot of hushed conversations in our household: one-quarter was enough elven blood to give him a longer lifespan, and a proportionately slower development. Even his human grandparent would have aged slower and lived longer than the full-blooded orcs our son was growing up among, and the elven blood only compounded that. We'd had to contend with his peers outpacing him almost since I arrived back at the First Fire clanhold.

"Do you remember Arabela, Davvie?" I asked, crouching down beside my human friend so the little one might not feel quite as alone in the face of this relative stranger.

"Nope," he answered with a shrug of his little shoulders. Then he pointed right at her and said, with no trace of hesitation or emotion in his voice, "That's a fuck. A fuck."

Arabela's mouth dropped open in shock at the casual cuss-word, and her handmaid gasped again. Caught between mortification, exasperation, and riotous amusement, I quickly reached out to pull the wooden block from Arabela's limp hand and held it up between all of us so everyone could see it.

"Yes, a fuk," I repeated as I pointed at the wooden block. The orcish word for block sounded a bit like "fuck", but with a shorter vowel sound, like in "book". "It's called a block in Amellan, and a fuk in orcish."

The four other adults present heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief, and then all five of us fought as one not to start laughing. The last thing I wanted to do was give Davvie the impression that pointing at things and saying, "Fuck," was a funny thing to do-- once he started, it would be so much more work to stop the behaviour.

"Amaranthea and Arabela here are going to catch up," Davor explained to the big orc and little half-orc. "We can visit the uptown market here with Brusse, and come by to pick her up in..."

"Maybe a couple of hours?" I suggested, and Bella nodded happily. "I'll see you three soon."

I kissed my two boys, one on the mouth and one on the cheek right over his still-growing tusk, and gave Mazon an appreciative smile and nod. That man really was one of the most patient people I'd ever met, which was doubly impressive since he was also one of the biggest men I'd ever seen.

The three green-skinned guys left through the front to take in the sights with Brusse, who was waiting for them outside. Even in this intolerant city, I wasn't worried about their safety as long as today's escort was with them. Brusse was the same height as Mazon-- which wasn't surprising, since orcs didn't seem to have any real disparity in heights between the sexes-- but was half again as broad. I once saw her get into an argument with a squad of human border guards, which she ended by knocking their captain unconscious with a single swing of one fist, then knocking out his warhorse with a second punch.

"Shall we?" Arabela asked, her friendly voice clearly telling me she had no idea where my mind had gone. That fight had stopped an international incident... even as it almost caused another. That was the kind of tense relations we were fighting against.

I took the royal mistress' outstretched elbow, and we walked up a flight of stairs and past several handfuls of guards patrolling or standing guard before finally stopping in front of a door in some important-looking wing of the castle. The handmaid, who Arabela introduced as Cassandra, dashed just ahead of us to open the door before either of us could reach for it. Somehow, she even managed to not disturb the baby sleeping in her arms as she did it.

"Who's the little one?" I asked in almost giddy excitement as we stepped into what was obviously Arabela's personal suite.

The main room was bigger than the three rooms we had rented at an expensive inn for our diplomatic entourage combined. Her room featured comfortable seating, a small dining table, a desk, and several doors that probably led out to Arabela's actual bedroom, as well as maybe a bathroom and maybe a separate room for the baby to sleep in. All of that space for one woman and one baby... Nobles in this country really were crazy.

"This little angel is Edgar." She positively beamed with pride as she stroked the dark fluff of hair on his head. Little baby Edgar fussed slightly at her touch, then stilled again. "Edgar Cabello. Named after the king's great uncle."

"So, his last name is Cabello, because he couldn't..."

"He doesn't officially have a father," she explained in a carefully neutral tone. "So he has my last name."

Apparently satisfied that I'd seen enough, Cassandra stepped out of the room with baby in hand, probably to put him down to sleep somewhere a bit more comfortable while Arabela and I settled down on her plush loveseat. The handmaid's ease of movement told me she was used to tucking Edgar in.

What was with rich Amellan women and having someone else deal with their babies at every step? Why even be a parent if you didn't want to actually do the parenting?

"But his father is actually..."

"Mhm," she confirmed with a little smirk.

"So your 'fancy-pants noble' was actually..."

"Mhm," she said again, this time openly grinning.

"Holy shit, girl. Talk about a good catch!"

Arabela burst out giggling at my excitement, which got me going too, although we both tried to stifle the sounds of our laughter when the young Cassandra poked her head into the main room and gave us a stern look. Apparently, sleeping babies ranked above the king's mistress, in the official hierarchy.

"Hey, you caught yourself a pretty good one too," she eventually retorted. "I saw him in passing a few months ago, but seeing Davor in that tight tunic today... I definitely see what made you travel across the world to get back to him."

"Oh, you have no idea," I shot back with a pointed raise of my eyebrows.

"Oh?" she asked, leaning forward to put her chin on her palm. She gave me an eager look and a hungry smile. "Do tell."

I could recognize that look on her face from a mile away. It wasn't the look of a girl who was hungry for an orc-- although there may have been a trace of that, too-- but the look of a girl who was hungry for some gossip. Some company. I suddenly found myself wondering just how lonely this castle must be for someone who had been barely more than a commoner before being uplifted. Everyone around her was either a snake looking for a weakness and a place to strike, or else a sycophant who would agree with whatever she said in the hopes of catching the faintest whiff of power.

"Well, orcs do have a... certain reputation..." I teased with another wiggle of my eyebrows. "And let's just say it's well-earned. But he's also kind and tender and caring... and very, very good with his hands."

"Oh my." A hint of blush darkened her flawless cheeks. "So then he's, mm...."

She held up her hands, spread maybe seven or eight inches apart, and I held up my hands to mirror hers... then moved them a little bit further apart. She blushed even more and we broke into another rash of giggles that we quickly got under control. We didn't even need a reminder to keep from waking the baby this time.

"I guess it's certainly enough to get the job done," she said with a wave towards my middle once we'd finished laughing.

"It took half a year of trying," I griped. "You'd think between the size-- for a deeper injection-- and the sheer quantity he produces, it would have happened a bit quicker."

"Tell me about it." She rolled her eyes in exasperation, although her blush remained. "It took me so long trying to make sure he got me pregnant that I actually went to a so-called expert in town to get some advice about increasing our chances. I made sure every drop ended... you know where... and started tripping my bum up after just to keep it in longer and increase the odds."

"Been there, done that. We ended up talking to the clan's shaman and getting a bit of magical help."

"Magical? Really?" Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Go on..."

"You first," I countered. "The king, the actual ruler of Amella. What's he really like, you know... under the covers?"

"Let's just say that his castle and armies aren't the only things that are large," she whispered, then gave a wiggle of her own eyebrows. That got us laughing again, and we started swapping the really good, really juicy stories.

Time flew by too quickly, the way it always does when catching up with old friends. Before I left, Arabella pulled me into a tight hug, kissed my cheek, and made me promise to visit again. While I certainly felt sorry for her isolation in the castle, that wasn't why I agreed-- mostly, it was just because I had laughed more in the last two hours than I had in the last month put together.

Brusse, Mazon, and both Davors were waiting for me at the castle's outer gates, and the sight of my two boys grinning at my arrival made my heart swell all over again. This was my family, and I wouldn't trade them for the world.

We were back in the king's court the following morning, bright and early. I griped to Davor about how unfair it was for them to expect us to arrive so early when we would just have to wait all day to be seen anyway. Especially when the king was probably just going to say no for a third time. But it wasn't the place of some forgotten daughter of a distant branch of a minor noble tree to question the crown's wisdom, so Davor and I did our due diligence.

To my surprise, we weren't stuck listening to other petitioners for more than an hour before the court attendant called on us to approach and be heard.

"We would hear the specifics of the contract between your clan and our kingdom," the king declared with minimal preamble. "We may require more information on the topic of what might be imported or exported and at what volume, as well as on the taxes and expected revenue."

We were both so shocked at the sudden change in the winds of negotiation that Davor stammered and almost couldn't answer. Fortunately, I don't think anyone was expecting a quick answer from "that stubborn orc". But we finally had our chance, and my man wasn't about to miss it-- with a quick glance at me for support, he launched into a speech he'd practiced the night before.

The king listened intently, nodding periodically and even asking some pointed questions about specific details. Within half an hour, we went from nearly hopeless to feeling victorious as the king gave his nod of approval.

"The crown agrees to the terms," King Edward declared with his confident, brassy voice. In the background, the nobles didn't exactly gasp, but there was a distinct change in the crowd's overall bearing-- obviously they hadn't been expecting this outcome either. "Our people have been neighbours since time immemorial, and we've spent too long fighting when we could have been searching for common ground. This ban on trade is a product of a different era, and it is high time we move past it so both of our nations may prosper."

Technically the orcs weren't a "nation", but rather five different self-governed clans that occupied separate territories... but neither Davor nor I were about to correct the king on that point.

"Surely we won't just allow their goods to flood the markets," some high noble asked from one of the aisles where the bluebloods sat to observe the royal goings-on. "We'll at least charge a hefty tariff on all products that pass the borders, yes?"

The king fixed the objector with a royally displeased look until the older man started to squirm under the weight of the stare. "No, of course we will not have tariffs at the border. Our advisors are quite insistent that such things always hurt both nations. Besides, what is the point of free trade if you're going to stymy it?"

There was a lot of buzz in the court, and it quickly became clear that nothing else productive was going to get done until the assembled nobs had a chance to sort themselves out, so the attendant called for a recess. Davor and I were escorted to an adjoining room by an old woman with the wiriest hair I've ever seen in my life, where two more of the crown's advisors were waiting to hear more specifics.

Davor looked to me for support again, and I laid a hand on his arm in a silent show of solidarity. He seemed to draw strength from the touch, and by the time he was sitting across from the three powerful humans, Dav was back to his usual charismatic self.

I didn't really know anything about trade or contracts, so I settled for sitting beside my husband and silently backing him up as they dissected the treaty down to the finest details. Our meeting lasted the better part of three hours, but it was clear we'd barely scratched the surface of the conversation. After centuries of war and two decades of an uneasy ceasefire, it was going to take more than a single afternoon to create a new way forward... but this was the single biggest step forward for the First Fire clan in literal decades.

Was the timing of the agreement a coincidence, or had Arabella actually helped our case? Did a mere mistress really have the kind of political clout needed to sway the leader of perhaps the most powerful kingdom on the globe?

By the time we were ready to leave for the day, I was bleary-eyed from frowning over revision after revision of official contracts. It wasn't even early evening yet, but I was ready for bed.

An old man nodded at us from beside the front doors of the castle as we passed, obviously having been waiting for us. His clothes were of fine materials in a classic style, but the muted and simple colours were designed to make the wearer seem like part of the background more than anything else. The unmistakable uniform of a royal attendant.

"The castle is hosting a small event tomorrow night," he told us in a deferential voice that somehow made it deeply obvious he was used to being listened to, "in honour of the princess and heir of Theris, who is currently our guest. Two emissaries from the Dwer lands will also be in attendance. As emissaries from Amella's new partners, his highness would be pleased if you would join us."

I blinked stupidly and turned to Davor, who looked equally shocked. Just yesterday we had been at the bottom of the priority list, and today we were being invited to royal gatherings. Neither of us was really ready to process the sudden change of fortunes, but our answer was perfectly obvious.

"We would be honoured," I told the butler.

"Very good," he said in a tone that made it quite clear that there was never a chance we would have said anything else. He pulled a folded card from an inner breast pocket, and handed it to me. "You will find all relevant details enclosed. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening."

And with that, he was off. The old man didn't have a very fast stride, but he moved around people and obstacles with the nearly preternatural ease that comes from working somewhere for forty or fifty years, and within a moment he was gone from sight.

"So... there's that," Davor said blankly.

"I guess we need to get you a nicer suit."

The evening of the party itself was a blur. A royal banquet was the kind of event a girl might wait her entire life to be part of, and it was the perfect chance for us to make some real connections. And it was also the highest stakes I had ever played for in my life, and Davor and I spent six hours in a high-stress state as we ate and danced and mingled. We had to be conscious of how we walked, how we talked, how we stood, and how we sat-- we were under the scrutiny of every noble and semi-noble in the countryside, after all.

Not to mention additional nobles from out of the country. As if we didn't have enough of our own.

Princess Leandra dó Freyja, the Therian queen-to-be herself, graced the banquet with her presence. As far as I managed to gather from snippets of overheard gossip, her visit to Amella was pretty much a total surprise, and she'd set the whole castle into a tizzy. The princess and her retinue's presence in the hall was a surprise, but even more shocking was that she deigned to stop by and visit us at the out-of-the-way table we'd been assigned. Caught in the woman's shining silver eyes, I was so stunned that I couldn't do more than stand and gape at her, while Davor just stared at me in obvious desperation, like I might save him.

It was Mazon that saved the day, greeting her politely and eloquently. He answered her questions while the rest of us recovered our wits enough to remember how to bow and curtsey. Our shock redoubled when Leandra asked him to sit with her for a time to discuss recent Amellan events. And later, when he had the audacity to ask her-- the heir apparent of Amella's most powerful neighbour-- to dance, I thought my tension couldn't possibly get any higher.

I was proven wrong as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

"Please don't get yourself killed, old friend," Davor whispered sharply to his friend as Mazon passed us by. "It would be terrible for business."

Some human, orcish, or elven gods, or a mixture of all three, must have been looking down on us, because Mazon didn't get himself killed. He danced with Princess dó Freyja in front of the whole noble court-- and did a halfway decent job of it, too. And when the song slowed, he even pulled her closer until she was swaying chest-to-stomach with the huge orc.

All the while, an elven man and human woman from her escorts watched with sharp eyes. It was only later that I learned that those two were the princess' husband and wife.

While some of the nobs might have buzzed and whispered about the scandal of the pale-haired, silver-eyed princess of Theris dancing with an actual orc, no one actually raised a complaint out loud. Not even Leandra's spouses

But then again... once you have two spouses, what's one more person in the mix, really?

The streets were silent by the time we all returned to our accommodations, and Dav and I were damn near asleep before we got into bed. We were expected back at the castle by noon to resume discussions of the finer points of the new trade treaty, and we hardly had time to say hello to Davvie before we were gone again. We were halfway back to the palace before I realised that Mazon had come with us.

"Actually, Leandra asked me to call on her around noon," he explained when I belatedly asked him why he had joined us in the carriage. "She wants to take tea with me."

"Leandra?" I asked, agape. "As in Leandra dó Freyja? You're on a first-name basis with the Therian heir apparent now?"

"Guess so." Mazon gave an unhelpful shrug and an annoyingly cocky smirk. Somehow, I managed to refrain from slapping that smug look off of his face. "She thinks me talk real pretty for an orc, and wants to hear more of what I've got to say."

Unsure of what else to say, I turned to Davor. Obviously just as lost as I was, he just shook his head.

"Well... do us proud," Davor finally offered, and Mazon gave him another of those smirks.

The talks with the economic advisory council seemed to take approximately three eternities, but somehow my husband and I still made it back to the inn before our friend. We sat around the lobby and played cards with Dav and our security escort, but it wasn't until after supper that Mazon rejoined our group.

"Well?" I asked when he finally ducked through the doorway into the inn's main room where we were sitting. "How did it go? What did you talk about?"

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow," was all we got before he was clomping off towards his room.

I looked to Davor and Brusse, but neither of them had any idea what was up with Mazon. He was usually a pretty simple, straight-forward kind of orc-- not stupid, per se, but somewhat basic in his drives. When Mazon was happy, he grinned widely, and when he was mad, he head-butted people. Words like "reserved" and "pensive" didn't exactly come to mind when one was thinking about him. But still, we respected his privacy and kept our questions to ourselves.

In the morning, Mazon found Dav and I before any of the others were awake.

"She invited me to come back with her," he told us without any preamble.

"Who did what now?" I asked, blinking up at the seven-foot tall wall of green-skinned muscle.

"Leandra. Princess Leandra, that is."

"Come back with her where?" Davor questioned.

"Theris," Mazon said after a long pause. "She and her retinue are leaving tomorrow morning to return to their capital, and she... she's asked me to join her."

"As a guest?" I asked, and Mazon's usual arrogant grin peeked through his serious demeanour again for a moment. My stomach dropped at the look of pure masculine bravado on his face. No way. "You can't be serious. You're misreading her. There's no way she..."

"She what?" Davor asked, looking back and forth between me and Mazon.

"Her grace is interested in spending some... personal time with me," Mazon confirmed.

"You cannot be serious," my husband scoffed. "I heard she was married."

"I heard she was married to two people," I added. "That's crazy enough, but taking on a... what? A consort?"

"Why not?" Mazon countered. "The king of Amella has his little whor-- his mistress. Why shouldn't the princess have herself a mister... a mis... a mister-ess?"

"Okay, fine." Davor waved dismissively to cut Mazon off before he could go down the rabbit hole of euphemisms for male concubines. "But... an orc? I mean, I'm sure Amy can attest that we make damn good lovers." I smacked my mate's arm and he chuckled fondly. "But won't that be a huge scandal? There's no way the other humans would be okay with that."

"Theris is different," I said by way of explanation. Both of the orcs stared at me, and I just shrugged. "They're not quite as... stodgy as Amella. I mean, she's already married to two people--"

"Five," Mazon cut in. "Two wives, three husbands."

"By the divine warlord's celestial ballsack," Davor cursed. "Five? Five spouses? I can barely handle one, let alone-- ow!"

I frowned at Davor as he rubbed his shoulder in pretend pain. I had no doubt that my hand stung more from that smack than Davor's broad, muscular shoulder. "So, she's got five spouses, and she's, what... looking for number six?"

Mazon shrugged. "I don't know if she's thinking of marriage, but the way she was talking and looking at me... That blonde-haired beauty is thinking of going green, no doubt about it."

"Are you going to go?"

He looked at me in silence for a long moment, and I knew what his answer was going to be. Oh, Mazon might talk it through and waffle a bit, but I could see in his eyes that he'd already made up his mind.

"You should go," I told him softly. "If it's what you want..."

"I don't want to leave all of you," he said just as quietly. He put a big, heavy hand on my slender shoulder, and one on Davor's. "We've been through so much, the three of us. Four, if you count Ausk back home. And I wouldn't even have a chance to say goodbye to Ausk! And what if you need my help on the road, or--"

"We'll be just fine," Davor assured him. "I've made the trip plenty of times without you, old friend. And we're going to be coming back up to Trostis a lot over the coming years, so it'll be easy to meet you again. We'll plan a reunion every year."

"You'd really be fine if I went?" Mazon asked, and both of us nodded.

"You need to follow your heart, Maz," I told him. "I did, and it brought me so much joy."

"And besides," Davor added with his own grin, "how many other chances are you going to have to get in between a pair of royal thighs?"

Saying goodbye the next day was tough. Davvie cried when he said goodbye to "Unca Mazzin", and that was enough to set off my own waterworks. "Damn pregnancy," I sniffled as I wiped futilely at the steady trickle of tears on my cheeks. "I cry about damn near everything these days."

It was easier for the rest of us, since we all still had each other, but Mazon was going off on his own, into a country he didn't know with people he'd barely met. But he put on a brave face all the same. "After all," he told us confidently, "it's not like it's going to be forever. And then there's the whole, you know, probably going to have sex with the most beautiful human I have ever seen in my life."

The ride back to the clanhold was quieter without Mazon's endless supply of raunchy jokes, and the campfire seemed empty without his raucous laughter. Ausk was shocked to see us come back without his old friend, and doubly shocked when we told him where Mazon had gone.

"He went off to fuck some human princess," he asked, blinking slowly, "and he didn't even invite me along?"

Summer hit with a nasty heat wave, made doubly unpleasant for those of us who had to haul around stomachs the size of an ox.

"Ten months down-- no, ten and-a-half!" I grumbled at the large, round stomach that protruded out in the most inconvenient way as I bent down to reach for a rag I'd dropped. "Still more than a month to go before you're out of here. You know, if you were born tomorrow, it wouldn't be a moment too soon."

"What happened to this being a 'magical time'?" Davor asked as he swept up from behind and snagged the cloth off the ground before I could grab it. He moved with such ease that I wanted to growl at him-- especially because he was also correct. "I thought you said just last month that this was the most magical time of the pregnancy, when you could feel Amy Junior wiggling and kicking."

"You try carrying around twenty pounds of baby that won't stop kicking you in the bladder," I shot back at Davor and his patient smile. "We'll see how magical you think it is..."

"Every moment with you is magical," he told me without a hint of irony, and wrapped a strong hand around my lower back to pull me in for a kiss.

I was tired, hot, sore, and more than a little cranky, but all of that faded away the moment his lips met mine. I felt myself melting against him as Davor wrapped his arms around me to cradle me against his strong body... and grab a handful of my ass, while he was at it.

"And what are you grabbing and my bum for, mister?" I asked in a breathless voice when he finally released my mouth.

"It happens to be the nicest ass this side of the Skytusk mountains," he told me matter-of-factly. "And I happen to be very proud of being married to the beautiful woman attached to it."

"You cannot possibly think I'm beautiful anymore, Davor. I'm huge. Enormous."

I was certainly a lot bigger than I'd been the last time the two of us had time for this kind of intimacy, that was for sure. Between one thing and another, we hadn't had the time, privacy, or energy to do much more than some heavy-petting. It had been almost two months since the last time we had actually fucked, and I'd damn near doubled in size since then.

"I always think you're beautiful." His voice took on that low, sweet tone he always used when he was feeling romantic, and I felt a hint of heat on my cheeks. On my cheeks and... elsewhere. "And I think you're especially beautiful now. Your skin is smooth and glowing and your stomach is rounded with our child."

The way he laid his hand on my stomach as he said that last only made the heat inside of me deepen. Davor got this look whenever he talked about the baby I was carrying-- he looked at me like I was some sexy fertility goddess instead of the swollen monster I felt like. Maybe it was just some primal "I like looking at the woman I knocked up" thing, but the way he said it... there was no doubt in my mind that Davor was telling the truth.

"And how else am I beautiful?" I asked in a coquettish voice, and Davor grinned widely.

He ran a finger down the side of my face, toying with one of my curled locks. "Your hair is the exact colour of hot embers, a perfect match for your fiery personality."

Davor brushed his thumb against the line of my cheekbone and just under my eye. "Your eyes are the rich green of the forest in summer, but twice as beautiful."

His thumb slid lower, and played along my bottom lip. "Your lips are gorgeous, full, plush, and unendingly kissable."

And then he proved that last point by kissing me. The act was passionate, but not rough-- a soft, slow exploration of my mouth, like it was some fantastic treasure to be savoured. The feeling of Davour's lips on mine made my heart soar, and the touch of his tongue brushing between them spurred my blood to rush even faster. He took his time with it, drawing out every drop of pleasure that he could squeeze from a single kiss.

Then his hand was sliding down my neck, his strong, rough hands brushing against my soft skin. "You have a long, elegant neck," he went on, whispering his praises against my parted lips. "And these... don't even get me started on these."

He swept his hand over to cup one of my breasts as he spoke. I breathed a drawn-out "Mmm," of pleasure against his mouth as he palmed my breasts and gently played with my sensitive nipples through the thin material of the white, maternal dress I was wearing.

"I could write a poem about your fantastic tits." He teased me with his words as much as he did with his fingers, until my nipples stiffened against his palms. "A whole book of poetry."

"Careful," I warned him jokingly, "or I might just hold you to that."

"I'd rather hold you to me," he countered, then slid his hand around to cup my lower back and pull my body against his. He rested his other hand on the side of my large, rounded stomach, and cradled it like he really thought the obvious evidence of my pregnancy was beautiful. "And this, this may be the most beautiful of all. The way your body has swollen out and rounded, the way you've grown heavy with our child... You are a vision of incomparable beauty. And unending sexiness."

I giggled in spite of myself, and felt a faint blush spreading on my cheeks. I was almost twice Davor's age, forty-one to his mere twenty-three, but he still made me feel like a young girl when he waxed poetic about me. Of course, as a child of both elven and human parents, at just over forty I was still just a young adult-- roughly on-par with him.

"How can you think I'm sexy when I'm so huge?"

"I once compared your beauty to that of the moon goddesses, back when we first met, Amaranthea."

"Oh yes, I remember." My blush deepened from the mixture of flattery and a deeper sense of rising warmth as I remembered the time we'd shared in that private pool. That was the second time we had made love-- all of maybe thirty minutes after the first time. "And I told you that you shouldn't risk incurring their wrath."

"You did," he agreed, "but I didn't listen. You are as beautiful as Sorazha, the moon maiden-- as beautiful as the moon herself. And does the moon get less beautiful when it is full and large?"

I shook my head, not trusting my voice to be steady in the face of such an onslaught of flattery and flirtation from the mouth of the man I loved most in the world.

"No, it doesn't," he answered for me. "The moon only gets more beautiful the fuller it gets."

"I think you had better bring me to our bed." My voice was heavy and low under the weight of my rising need. "If you say anything more, my knees might get too weak for me to-- eep!"

Davor cut me off by stooping down to wrap one arm behind my knees, then pivoting and sweeping me up off of my feet as if I weighed nothing at all. I shrieked and giggled with delight as my husband picked me up in his strong arms, holding me under my back and knees as he carried me towards the partition that separated our bedroom from the rest of the canvas-built home we shared.

"My powerful man," I giggled up at him, then snaked an arm behind his head and pulled him down so we could share another prolonged kiss even as he carried me to the edge of our massive bed. "My big, sweet orc."

He set me down gently, tenderly, maybe even reverentially. I moved over to make space for him, glad that we had an afternoon without little Davvie around-- our son was the light of my life, but having an inquisitive three-year-old running around the house wasn't exactly conducive to finding alone time for physical intimacy.

The bed creaked as Davor laid down beside me, lying on his side to face me. "Could you please take off your shirt?"

My words were polite, courteous, but I had no doubt my voice gave away my eager desperation. Davor nodded without speaking, and lifted himself just enough to shuck off his tunic and toss it behind him.

I watched his midsection in rapt fascination as the muscles flexed and twisted with his every motion. He had put on a little weight around the middle since I'd first met him, but neither the layer of softness nor the excess of coarse black hairs growing all over his chest and stomach could hide the presence of the powerful muscles beneath.

"And your pants, too?"

Again, he wordlessly obeyed, twisting and lifting his hips just enough to wiggle out of his pants and underwear. They joined his shirt on our bedroom floor, leaving a wide expanse of naked, mossy-green skin for me to gaze upon. And I did. Gladly.

"Amaranthea," he whispered barely louder than a breath, "would you take off your dress for me?"

I nodded and complied. The dress was thin and light, but it still took me a moment of struggling before I could pull it up and over my head-- there was just no easy way to work around my heavy stomach.

"And your bra? Your underwear?"

I stripped down wordlessly, pulling my bra up and over my head, and my panties down over my well-rounded hips and my toned ass. I had gained a lot of weight on my midsection, but the extra weight only helped keep my legs strong. Davor watched eagerly, hungrily, as I slipped the last piece of fabric off of my body.

Now we were facing each other, nude and vulnerable, and still so deeply in love after almost two and a half years living together.

"Beautiful," he whispered as he reached out a hand and ran it down my body from my shoulder to my hip. "Everyday you get even more beautiful, Amy."

"Look who's talking," I countered, running a finger across one of his heavy pectoral muscles, down his chest, over his stomach, and down to... "Everyday you get even sexier."

Davor's cock flexed against my palm as blood started rushing to fill it. I leaned forward and closed the distance between us, claiming his lips with mine as I ran my hand along his rapidly-stiffening shaft. The motions of his hand on my hips and ass grew more possessive as his arousal grew more pronounced, before he slid it around to my...

"Look who's talking," he teased right back as his fingers brushed across the short bush of scarlet pubic hair that had taken up semi-permanent residence between my legs.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to shave down there." I broke off the kiss just long enough to apologise. "I just can't really reach past my stomach very well these--"

The rest of my apology was lost as his lips mashed against mine. He silenced me with a kiss even as his fingers slid lower and started teasing at my lower lips. My labia tingled with mounting arousal and sensitivity, and the feeling of his fingers touching me immediately coaxed that flame into a roaring blaze.

"I told you," he grunted between the wet sounds of our lips coming together and parting, "that you are still unendingly sexy."

"Mmm," was the only reply I could manage as his finger slid between my warm lips. He teased at my entrance, circling the achingly sensitive muscle that ringed that opening until my arousal started to spill over onto him.

Then he spread the collected wetness up, smearing me with my own juices and making me slick with it. His finger passed up and over my engorged clit, drawing another appreciative moan from my lips. Not wanting to let him have all the fun, I squeezed his shaft tighter and moved my hand even faster over his hot, smooth surface.

Davor quickly swelled to his full size in my hand, and I was once again reminded that his flattery wasn't the only way that he sometimes made me feel like a young girl again. The sheer size of him against my delicate hand, the weight of him in my palm, was enough to make me feel small beside him. Davor wasn't hung like a minotaur, for which I was very grateful-- Stubs the minotaur had been a fun experience, but I don't think I would have survived taking that cock on the daily like I had with Davor-- but he easily put all of my past human lovers to shame.

"Fuck," he groaned against my lips. "Gods, I love you so much, Amy."

"I love you too, Davor."

Since becoming pregnant a second time, my libido had been all over the place. There were times when I just couldn't seem to get into the mood no matter how perfect the situation was, and there were times when I felt absolutely ravenous and insatiable.

Times like today.

I could feel my moisture pooling and dribbling over as my arousal mounted faster and faster. Slick, hot pleasure coursed up my spine as Davor stroked my most sensitive place, that dense bundle of nerves at the apex of my pussy. My whole body seemed to grow warmer and warmer with his every motion.

"I want you to fuck me," I whispered against my husband's lips. My mouth brushed against one of his tusks as I spoke-- begged, really. "Please, my love."

"You wish is my command," he said in that deep growl that only came out when I'd teased him into a frenzy.

I rolled onto my back and spread my legs, then realised my mistake. There was no way he was going to be able to fit into that angle, not with my rounded stomach in the way. I almost snarled in frustration as my need grew more and more desperate. And the whole time, his hand was still between my legs, still stroking me and stoking my flame even higher.

Instead of getting under him, I rolled the rest of the way over to put my back towards his, then wiggled backwards until my shoulders met the hard expanse of his muscular chest. Davor stretched out an arm, and I laid my head on it like a firm, lumpy pillow as he brought himself even closer to me.

Davor's hand finally left its home between my legs to settle on my hip. He guided my side down, until my stomach was supported by the bed and my ass was pointing up.

Then, apparently finding my angle satisfactory, my husband took himself in hand. I lifted my leg as much as I could, spreading myself for him. He accepted my offering and brought his wide, heavy tip to rest against my achingly needy pussy. The weight of his swollen head pressed against my lips, spreading them slightly and smearing them with a slick glob of precum that had welled up.

"Gods, yes," I breathed as I felt him start pressing into me.

His cock was thick and round, but I was desperately wet and so, so ready. Davor was an expert when it came to my body, having long since mapped out every last inch of me-- every contour and every line of pleasure. The feeling of him spreading me open as he slowly pushed into my pussy was glorious. It was like having a piece of me that I had been missing suddenly rejoin the rest, like suddenly becoming whole.

It felt like coming home.

"Mm," Davor and I both groaned as he pushed his cock into my tight wetness, inch after delicious inch. The heavy weight of him pressed deeper with every motion of his hips, stretching and expanding my channel as he claimed me.

Then he was home, buried to the hilt in my welcoming cunt.

"Gods," I whispered again as his scratchy pubic hair came to rest against my asscheeks. He was so long, so wide, that it felt like he was touching every single bit of me at once. His cock pressed outwards against every last millimetre of my inner walls, applying a steady pressure against every single nerve in my pussy.

I was clenched down around him in turn, wrapped tightly around his length and squeezing his entirety. Our bodies were pressed so tightly together that I almost couldn't tell where he ended and I started.

"You feel so perfect, my love," Davor breathed, his mouth inches from my ear.

"I've missed this," I whined. "Missed having you inside of me."

My orc finally started moving, and it suddenly became a whole lot harder to focus on speaking. He rolled his hips backwards, sliding back until barely more than his head was still inside of me. Then he was pushing forward again, sliding back into my hot, welcoming depths. He took me in a long, slow stroke, and the edges of my world seemed to fade until all I could think about was the delicious feeling of my lover's thick, hard cock filling me.

He repeated the motion, a slow withdrawal followed by a deep and equally slow thrust. Dav leaned closer to me as he slid home again, going as far as sliding his bent leg up to rest on top of my knee to line us up even better. He made sure I could feel every bit of him, from head to base. And all the while, his pace didn't change, didn't increase. Each slow forward motion brought him deep enough that I swore I could feel it in my belly.

Part of me wondered if Davor was so deep inside of me that our growing baby might feel the jostling motion.

His palm settled over my stomach, as if he had been thinking about the baby just like I was. His hand was strong and rough and warm, and that single touch was enough to fill me with another fluttering wave of warmth and affection towards my orc, even as he worked to fill me in other ways.

I slipped my small, pale hand over his green-skinned fingers, and held him as he held me. His hips were moving incrementally faster now, but no less deep. My Davor was taking his time, evidently savouring the feeling of our bodies conjoining just as much as I was. With each deep stroke, he was laying claim to my body-- a body that I had already given him willingly and happily.

His cock pushing into me was as much a claim on me as the hand resting on my stomach... but neither of those was as profound of a mark as the baby growing in my womb, just beneath his palm.

Releasing his hand, I allowed my fingers to quest a little lower. The feeling of his substantial shaft slowly sawing in and out of me was nearly heavenly, but it wasn't until I added my finger to the mix that I started climbing my way towards the celestial realms.

"Oh, Dav," I moaned plaintively as I added the stimulation of a finger on my clit to the glacial onslaught. I could feel how swollen my pearl was under my hand, and the growing heat in my core soared immediately under the added pleasure.

"I love you so much, Amy," he whispered as he sunk into me again, again, again. His motions were quicker than they'd started, but still almost painfully slow. The tenderness of his touch, the gentleness of his fucking, the love and warmth in his voice and words... it all built on itself until my heart was racing in my chest and I could barely catch my breath. "My Amaranthea. My love."

"Yes, Davor," I sighed out as I rubbed my fingers across my clit even faster. I swirled around the point of my pleasure with the pads of two fingers, pressing and moving as the wall of sensations building in me reached higher and higher heights. "I love you, Dav. I lo-- I love-- I--"

And then I was cumming. The wave of tension that had been building slowly with every movement of his hips and fingers suddenly exploded outwards, rushing up my spine in a flaring arc.

Pleasure shot down my limbs in a mind-numbing cascade until all I could do was cry out, not caring who heard. The feeling of him, his sheer physicality, was nothing compared to the depth of our emotional connection, but the two combined into something so much more beautiful.

I was dimly aware of my body clenching down, my inner walls squeezing tight around his shaft as every muscle in my body bore down at once. I was shuddering, clenching, and shaking as my orgasm swept through my body, and Davor just held on tightly to my hip and kept thrusting into me with breathtakingly deliberate motions. Each time his cock sunk into me, brushing against the sensitive walls of my tunnel from entrance to the rearmost wall, it only added to the ebb and flow of bliss swirling inside of me.

As the peak of my climax passed and the tension started to ebb, Davor slowed to a stop, still buried inside of me. "I want to try something, my love."

"Mm," I sighed groggily as the wave of all-consuming bliss was replaced with that sweet post-orgasmic warmth. "After making me come undone like that... my heart, you can do whatever you want."

Davor chuckled in masculine self-satisfaction, then grabbed my hips with both hands. I giggled as he started moving me around, until he physically rolled me over-- the feeling of rotating around the shaft still embedded in me was enough to make my whole brain tingle.

Then I was on my back, perpendicular to Davor. He was on his side, almost straight up and down on the bed, while I was angled away from him with my legs both wrapped over his waist so that his hip was pressed into the backs of my knees. I shifted and rolled a little more until my rounded stomach was more supported, and marveled that we'd never tried this position before now.

We had tried nearly every other possible configuration of two bodies, after all. And a few positions involving three bodies.

"Woah," I whispered as Davor wiggled his hips to get himself situated. The motion made his cock shift inside of me, and I groaned in quiet appreciation. "It's like when you get behind me, but I'm on my back. You're kind of pushing into me... sideways?"

"Mm-hm." Davor gave a slow, explorative thrust into me, and my breath caught in my throat. "Yeah, I thought you might like it."

"Oh! Oh, I definitely do."

My husband rolled his hips back and pushed into me again, letting me feel the full length of him in a single long motion. On my back, with my legs overtop of his hip, I didn't have a lot of control over the angle or speed of his penetration, but I trusted that Dav knew what to do.

And oh, did he ever know just what I wanted.

One of his arms was under my side, supporting my heavy tummy, while the other curled up over my thighs to hold my leg and my hip. Apparently that was enough to give him the leverage he needed, as my orc started moving again.

"Mm," I sighed as he started fucking me again with those long, deep strokes. "Oh, Davor."

His only answer was a low grunt of exertion as he pulled me down in time with his next motion, drawing my hips towards him as he thrust into my pussy. I wasn't sure if he was actually able to get deeper than he already was, but it sure as hells felt like it. Each snap of his hips drove his cock so deep into me that it felt like he must be brushing against my lungs.

"Gods yes," he hissed as he rocked forward and impaled me on his thick shaft again and again. "Gods, you're so perfect, Amaranthea."

My handsome, kind, sweet orc was bucking his hips faster now, all the teasing slowness gone as he reveled in claiming my body over and over. Each thrust was a bit faster-- and a bit harder-- than the last, and each sharp motion drove us closer to our explosive conclusion.

The look on Davor's face, the way his fingers dug into my sides, the way he moved... Davor was getting close now, there was no mistaking it.

"Yes, Davor," I purred as my husband visibly fought to retain control. "Give it to me. Give it all to me!"

"Guh," he grunted. His expression was a mix of bliss and desperation as he teetered on the edge of his own release. "Amaran-- Ama--"

His cock had already been plenty hard, plenty thick, but it seemed to grow even harder and thicker inside of me as the muscle swelled. Davor's body threatened to go rigid, his grip tightening as he edged closer. I clenched my interior muscles, bearing down with my pussy to squeeze him between wet, silken walls the way I knew always drove him crazy. It was enough to push him over the edge.

"Oh, Amy!" he cried, then all at once his long, green shaft was throbbing inside of the tight confines of my innermost channel.

"Oh," I moaned in almost perfect time with him.

My lover slammed back into me hard enough that it stung, but I would never tell him so-- Davor was already afraid of accidentally hurting me, and I didn't want him to treat me like fragile porcelain. Besides, in the heat of the moment, the sting of discomfort was just another pleasant sensation among a thousand others.

As he slid back home, impaling himself so deep into me that the tip of him kissed the wall at the rear of my passage, his full length throbbed again.

A burst of slick, thick, hot fluid erupted from his swollen head and splattered against the ring of muscle in my anterior wall. We groaned in unison as that first explosion of heat flowed out from him like a rolling tsunami. The feeling of him dousing me with his seed and filling me with his pleasure was indescribable.

Davor shuddered, grinding against me as his cock clenched again, tensing and expanding as he shot out another heavy line of cum, and another. Each twitch, each shudder, came with another burst of warmth. He grunted and pushed his throbbing shaft even more firmly into me, grinding against my cervix as he impaled me on his length.

Another twitch, another pulse, another wave of his pleasure rolling up to spill from him.

It had been easily six or seven weeks since we'd last been together like this-- minus a blowjob or three-- and no doubt he was backed up. If I hadn't been able to tell how desperate he was by the look on his face, the sheer weight of his cum pooling in me would have given it away. My orc produced a lot of cum in a day, and now he was treating me to the full volume he had been saving.

Davor seemed to cum and cum, pumping what felt like gallons of semen into my aching channel. He filled me until my body felt even more swollen than before, until there was no room within me to hold more. He filled me until his seed overflowed and dribbled out around his cock, and then he filled me some more.

And all the while, between shuddering waves of his climax, I watched his face. The pleasure written there, the bliss, made me feel even more fulfilled than the seed he was literally filling me with. He had brought me to my peak, and I'd brought him to his.

His body stilled, twitches becoming intermittent. I was so full of him that I couldn't feel the arrival of more incoming sperm, but I knew from experience that each of his shudders were accompanied by another rolling drop, another spurt. He left so much of his seed behind that if I hadn't already been heavily pregnant with his child, I had no doubt that I would have walked away from this bedroom with a half-orc babe in my belly.

As it was, I was at no risk of becoming more pregnant, but that didn't mean the feeling of him emptying every drop of his pleasure into my warm, welcoming passage wasn't utterly blissful. His bare skin against mine, cock buried as deep into me as he could get it, with each shuddering pulse bringing another jet of his pleasure.

Nothing in the world compared to that feeling of intimate connection.

At last he stopped, the last twitch ended and the last deposit left. There was silence in our room for some time. It was a companionable silence, the kind that comes from emotional intimacy and absolute comfort with each other-- and the kind that comes from two people having just fucked each other breathless.

When Davor finally moved again, turning his hips enough for his slowly softening shaft to fall from me, the rush of cum pouring from my well-used vagina was so heavy that I could almost hear it bubbling out.

I could certainly feel it, that was for sure.

Thick, creamy orc seed dribbled out from between my sensitive labia, spilling over to soak my inner thighs and course down the crack of my ass. It wasn't exactly a comfortable feeling, but I was far too tired to get up and deal with the situation.

Being almost eleven months pregnant-- of the twelve months that seemed to be typical for half-elven pregnancies-- made moving around a bit exhausting at the best of times. But right after being cradled and fucked until he turned me into a squealing mess?

Yeah, I wasn't going anywhere for a while.

Davor shifted himself around until he was chest-to-chest with me, and looked at me with so much love that I felt a faint tickle of tears threatening at the edges of my eyes. Sex like that, fantastic, mind-blowing fucking, was wonderful on its own. But mixed with genuine love and connection... There was nothing better in this world.

He rested a hand on my stomach, and we both chuckled when the excitable little half-orc growing in there responded by kicking.

My laughter made my stomach flex enough to squeeze another gush of cum out, which spilled over to stain the sheets.

"I filled you so much that I wouldn't be surprised if I put a sibling in there for our baby," he said, then laughed at his own joke. "Maybe that means we'll have twins."

"That's not how it works, dummy," I answered lovingly as I swatted at his arm. The gesture was playful and familiar, and served as a reminder of our closeness. We spent a moment just grinning at each other. "Do you... I mean, obviously you can't get me pregnant-er-- more pregnant. But afterwards, you know..."

"Do you want more children?" he asked, preempting the question I was struggling my way through.

"That's exactly what I was trying to ask you."

"Well, obviously it's up to you," he hedged, apparently not willing to commit to an answer. "I mean, you're the one who actually has to go through all the swelling, the pain, and the actual delivery..."

"But do you want more children?" I asked again.

"I would love to fill this house with kids," he finally answered. "As many as you wanted to give me. Is that something you would want--"

"Yes," I whispered, cutting him off. "I want to grow our family together, Davor. I never had any siblings growing up, and I always thought... Well, I've always wanted a big family."

"How about a hundred then?" he joked, and I playfully smacked his arm again.

"Let's just take it one day at a time, big boy. Don't get ahead of yourself."

Almost a month after that conversation, I squatted over a pile of blankets, huffing and straining.

I hadn't been alone when I gave birth the first time. I had been with Granny, the oldest and wisest woman I've ever met, when I gave birth to Davor Junior. She had literal centuries of experience as a midwife and doula under her belt, and I'd known I was in safe hands.

This time, I didn't have the solid weight of Granny's experience to ground me. But I did have Krugga, the clan's shaman, guiding me through deep breathing exercises while the contractions ripped through me as my baby started trying to make his way into the world.

And I had Davor, my solid rock, kneeling beside me.

He held my hand and rubbed my back as I strained, and didn't stop loving me even when I squeezed his hand with a grip that could have cracked solid stone and called him every swear word I could think of-- and by then I was fluent in three languages, which meant I had access to a lot of curse words. He was with me every step of the way, from the moment my water broke to the moment our second son's head emerged from inside of me.

And honestly? I wouldn't have traded his presence for all the wise old elves in the world.

After Theravol was born-- we combined the name of Davor's dad with my elven father's-- Davor was still with me. He slept beside me when I rested, and swaddled our baby when my arms were tired.

And then, a bit more than two years later, when Davor Junior was five and a half, my husband was with me for the birth of our daughter Brezza. She was named after Davor's grandmother, who had passed away the year before.

The five of us ended up moving to a larger home, with more room to grow. We didn't have any more children after Brezza, and I never went on another crazy adventure. And while I had always described the tale of the time I fucked my way across two continents as being the "story of a lifetime"... The truth was that the time we spent with the family we had made was the real story of a lifetime. It was full of laughter and tears, great successes and painful failures, unimaginable joy and heartbreaking loss.

But that story is a lot longer than my raunchy escapades, and not one that I would ever share.

Those stories? Those are just for Davor and me.