Becoming His Desire Ch. 04

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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"Attention! Your prince, Prince Benjamin the Third, has an announcement! Attention!"

The trumpets sounded as they stood before the competition grounds, flags flying, standards rippling in a light breeze, knights and other fighters lined up before the royal box. Prince Benjamin stood, a smile on his lips, dressed up in his royal finest with black-spotted ermine fur laid across his shoulders as part of his cape.

"It should come as no surprise to those close to me," he said, raising his voice to be heard by those important, "that I have found a suitor. A beautiful, powerful suitor, a woman who is beyond my wildest dreams!"

The king flinched, pressing a hand to his temple. Prince Benjamin paid him no mind.

"I, Prince Benjamin, take Jacy Silvermane, formerly Jacynda, to be my partner, my lover. There will be no further suitors presented to me, no courtesans, no nobles, no princesses, no more! I have made my choice of who to court -- and shall not continue this charade!"

The princess that he had been destined, apparently, to marry gasped, sitting in the opposing stands, gloves covering her small, dainty hands. From where she watched, standing down with the other knights and fighters, Jacy smirked, wearing little at all, not liking the heaviness of plate armour. Simple, leather clothing suited her best to allow her some protection when fighting, though most of what she had gotten herself into had been training. A few tavern brawls, yes, but no more than that. She kept herself out of trouble where it mattered only for her price.

Love had a funny way about making one compromise, after all, though one could have argued too that Jacy had made more than enough changes for the prince.

"But you are destined for me!" She screeched, yet the high-pitched nature of her cry had others wincing, pulling back from her. "If you will not wed me, then let our champions decide whose hand you take, in the spirit of competition! To defend my honour when you have scorned me so!"

Benjamin raised an eyebrow, sliding his gaze to his father.

"What was promised?"

His father shook his head.

"Nothing in writing, only that you two would meet. It would seem that she has delusions, though you did look forward to meeting her before... But I understand your choice!"

Benjamin smiled.

"Thank you, father. She will be a wonderful queen to our kingdom, the strength I need beside me to do right by you and mother."

Of course, he was not referring to Princess Catelynn but Jacy, who waved at him cockily from the ranks of fighters. The princess' eyes locked onto her, roiling with fury.

"My champion -- Sir Everson! Step forward and meet their own! I challenge you to the art of sword fighting. For my hand in marriage!"

The champion was like any other: tall, imposing, broad across the chest and clad in so much plate armour that sometimes it was a wonder that anyone wearing it was able to move. That hindered his agility, a helm covering his face, a slit remaining for him to see out from, though the contrast between him and Jacy was obvious.

"And where is your champion, Prince Benjamin?" Princess Catelynn challenged. "Do you not have one?"

He spread his arms out, though Jacy was quick to leap to his aid, slamming her shield and sword together, drawing all attention to her. The princess gasped, hand fluttering to her chest, but Jacy only grinned, showing her short tusks.

"I am my own champion!" She bellowed, pounding on her chest. "And I shall take on this supposed champion of your land! Though only one shall stand victorious!"

The stewards set them across from one another, the competition arena, framed by wooden stands and the royal seating boxes, holding their breath. Sir Everson growled insults, yet the rest of the world dropped away from Jacy, the orc woman controlling her breathing, seeing only the light and the love in the eyes of her prince, the man that she loved so very dearly, with all her heart and soul.

She would fight for him!

The moment that the steward's flag was lowered, signalling the start of their bout, she flung her body into action with a roar, oddly light and agile despite her bulk and size. Standing at six foot seven inches, she was a sight to be reckoned with, bulkier than any other man on the battlefield. There was not much flexibility to her, but still more as she wound and danced her way around the knight who was a couple of inches shorter than her, the tall helm giving the impression, however, that they were the same height.

It was never intended to be a one-sided competition, the audience gasping and crying out their support of one or the other, for many there thought that it was all, truly, in the spirit of competition. That was why they had all come there together, to see the flash of steel, blood spilt, the rap of metal on shield and armour. Bellowing, Jacy dropped her head, charging him like a savage, slamming into him bodily despite the ringing in her ears.

A shield crashed into her side, the tall one that might have been used in a defence line at battle, perhaps with pikemen, though it was not suited to sword fighting, too long and too heavy. Jacy snarled, headbutting the knight's chest -- what champion was he? Did he think that just because he was built like a brick wall that was going to be enough to throw her? Did he think her a weak woman?

"You're going to eat dirt in front of your prince, beast," Everson growled, his voice a low rumble from within the helm. "How do you think your prince will like you then, down on the ground, the lowest of the low? Best place for orcs..."

Her howl of rage funnelled her anger into a useful form, slashing, feinting, dodging, a creature possessed. For it was not just that she was an orc but that he thought that even a woman fighter was under him, her sword raised high, flashing, as his beady, little, dark eyes glared out from within the helm.

"Eat this!"

Not her best insult, but there was only so much that one could do in the heat of battle. Her sword crashed straight into his helm, ringing through his head, and she pressed the attack relentlessly, fighting as if for her life herself. Yet if she was not going to fight with such passion as she was at that very moment, what good was fighting at all?

But when the knight crashed to the ground in front of her, exhausted, sweaty, dirty, beaten, she knew that it had all been worth it. The kingdom was with her, cheering for her, on her side as she spat blood from her mouth and wiped sweat from her brow.

"Yaaaarrrrggghhh!"

Her battle cry raged as the crowd chanted her name, the opposing princess leaving in a flounce of disgrace.

"Jacy! Jacy! Jacy! Jacy! Jacy!"

She raised her sword, her prince's hands clasped to his chest. They adored her. He adored her. His beloved orc woman.

Everything had come right in the end, her body the one that she should have had all along to attract the attention of Benjamin, though it was her love and personality that had won him over. Letting go of her prudish self allowed her to be something more, something greater, something that she didn't even know she'd needed in her life.

The prince and the orc-ess... Well, that didn't work, but she most certainly was not taking the title of princess! Happily ever after, hand in hand, forevermore.

Could there have been a better ending for one very happy orc?