“This isn’t what I had in mind for a date,” said Jakira, her voice a rumbling purr under the clatter of hammer on metal. Sparks danced across the forge floor like fireflies.
“I mean, I know it’s not traditional,” Mera replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “but I thought it could be interesting!”
The pair were tucked away in Jakira’s forge, surrounded by racks of unfinished blades, sheets of hammered steel, and bowls of molten enamel. The heat made the air shimmer, and the scent of smelted iron clung to their skin. Together, they were shaping a set of ceremonial armor — not for anyone in particular, at least not yet. Jakira just liked to make, and Mera had suggested they try blending their crafts into something beautiful. It wasn’t meant for war, and it certainly wouldn’t hold up in a real fight, but it would be perfect for a parade or a coronation. Something meant to be admired.
“Fair,” Jakira admitted after a pause. “Hand me a silk strip. I was thinking of putting a few of them just under each shoulder pad — that way it doesn’t get in the way of movement.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea.” Mera rummaged through a box of dyed fabrics. “Did you want blue or red?”
“Dealer’s choice.”
“I like blue,” Mera said, flashing a grin as she held up the strip.
And what a dangerous grin that was. Mera was so much smaller than her — soft and curvy in a way that made Jakira’s chest ache a little when she looked too long. The human’s hair stuck slightly to her neck from the heat of the forge, and there was a faint sheen of sweat across her collarbone that caught the orange glow of the furnace light. Jakira had tried to stay focused on the work, but more than once she’d found her gaze wandering, stealing glances she hoped Mera wouldn’t notice.
She had noticed, of course. And she didn’t seem to mind.
Jakira took the offered silk from Mera’s fingers, letting their hands brush — a fleeting touch, but one that sent a faint thrum through her pulse. “Blue it is,” she murmured, looping the fabric into the armor’s frame with a delicate precision that felt almost reverent.
Mera stepped closer to watch, their shoulders almost brushing now. “I like this,” she said quietly. “It’s… nicer than I expected. Just us. Making something together.”
“Yeah,” Jakira replied, not looking up from her work. “I think I like it too.”
After another bell or two of steady work, Jakira finally set the hammer down with a clunk. She glanced sideways and saw Mera’s face flushed pink, her hair clinging damp to her forehead. The poor human looked like she was about to melt straight into the floor. The orc had been born into fire and anvil — the forge was like a second skin to her — but Mera clearly wasn’t built for this kind of heat. Jakira made the call. “Break time,” she said firmly, before the human keeled over.
They carried themselves outside into the cooler air, settling on a shaded step just outside the forge. Jakira fetched a pitcher of water, beads of condensation already forming along its clay sides, and set it between them. They took turns lifting it to their mouths, gulping down big swallows before handing it back, their fingers brushing each other’s more than once. Mera let out a relieved sigh after her drink, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
Beside the pitcher sat a small bundle of food wrapped in cloth. Vicky had pressed it on them earlier with a teasing wink, insisting that “every proper date needs snacks.” They unwrapped it now, finding neatly packed bread, some slices of cured meat, and a few sweet fruits tucked in the corners. It wasn’t fancy, but it was thoughtful.
Jakira tore into a piece of bread, while Mera nibbled more daintily, swinging her legs as though trying to dispel the lingering heaviness of the forge heat. For a while, the only sounds were the quiet crunch of food and the distant hiss of the forge fire behind them.
Jakira leaned back on one hand, watching the human chew with an expression that was probably a little too fond. “Better?” she asked.
Mera smiled, still pink-cheeked but brighter now. “Much. Though I’m not sure how you survive in there for so many bells.”
“You get used to the heat,” Jakira said with a shrug, rolling her shoulders as if to prove it. “And stubbornness.” She nudged the pitcher of water back toward Mera.
Mera took another gulp, draining it with an exaggerated sigh of relief before setting it down between them. “It’s fun though,” she admitted, her lips quirking into a smile. “I know it’s not practical, but the embroidered stripes really make the whole piece pretty. Do you have any plans for it when it’s done?”
“Maybe sell it to some nobles topside.” Jakira leaned back on one palm, studying the piece they’d worked on as though picturing the finished product. “I’d need to refit it, but it would easily make twenty-five gold for the suit.”
Mera choked halfway through a swallow and coughed, eyes going wide. “That much?”
“You’re working with silk exclusively. A dress made from that’s worth how much?”
“Oh, uhm, good point.” Mera twisted a lock of damp hair between her fingers. “I never worked with it, and I never did anything for a noble, but… maybe sixty gold?”
Jakira hissed between her teeth. “Fuckin’ nobles. I can get four suits of armor costing that much. It’s practical, built to save a life. Except for what we’re doing, of course. But how many dresses like that do you think a noblewoman has?”
Mera pursed her lips, considering. “Oh, maybe like… one or two? Silk’s rare up there. I don’t think they know how easy it is to make and dye down here. And I don’t think the swarm realizes how valuable it is to the human kingdoms.”
“Yeah. Guess so.” Jakira exhaled hard through her nose, the tension in her jaw easing a little. “Still. Kinda glad to be away from it all. That noble bullshit. And the expectations. Was pretty sure I was gonna die alone if I stayed in Gloriana. Not many orcs there, and the ones who are already have families. Not like the other races think I look marriageable.”
There was a quiet moment as Mera swallowed, then shuffled a little closer on the step until their knees brushed. “W-well… I like how you look. Not… pretty, exactly. Maybe… handsome?”
Jakira threw her head back and bellowed out a laugh that turned a few nearby swarm heads. “So I look like a man?”
“N-no!” Mera squeaked, flustered. “A handsome man and a handsome woman are very different! Like— it’s a little exotic. I think you’re very attractive and you have really nice muscles and and—”
“Breathe, girl, breathe!” Jakira chuckled, her tusks flashing in the crystallight. “I get it. Not ugly. Dashing, perhaps?”
“Yes! Exactly! A very dashing woman!” Mera nodded rapidly, her cheeks bright pink.
“Well, I think that’s enough of a flirting break. Shall we get back to work on the armor?” Jakira said, standing and stretching, her joints popping.
“Okay!” Mera chirped, her energy back as she scrambled to her feet.
They fell back into rhythm, the clink of metal and soft scrape of silk filling the forge. Hours slipped by until the crystals overhead began to dim, the cavern slowly easing into its night cycle. By then, they’d finished the last of the detailing—just a final polish left for tomorrow.
Together, they left the forge. The palace wasn’t far, and the quiet walk back was companionable, Mera stealing little glances up at the orc while Jakira pretended not to notice. The hotpools awaited, steam rising from their depths, and both sank into them with weary sighs. Heat unwound sore muscles, soap washed away ash and dye, and for a while it was simply… bliss.
Clean and comfortable, they split to return to their rooms. Mera padded down the hall barefoot, humming under her breath, when she froze.
Jakira was leaning against the wall right by her door. Arms crossed, still damp from the bath, hair loose instead of bound in its usual braid. The orc’s tusks caught the dim crystal light as she glanced up.
“Hey, short stuff.” Jakira’s voice was quieter than usual, a little rough. She scratched at the back of her neck, suddenly more awkward than Mera had ever seen her. “Was, uh… wondering if you wanted to, perhaps, spend the evening in my bed?”
Mera blinked. Once. Twice. Her lips parted but no words came out at first, just a tiny squeak that wasn’t remotely dignified. She hugged the bundle of her nightclothes tighter to her chest, like a shield.
“Y-your bed?” she finally managed, voice pitching higher than usual. “Like… sleeping? Or, um—” her face went scarlet, and she buried half her chin in the fabric she was holding— “other things?”
Jakira barked out a laugh, though it was warm, not mocking. “Relax, girl. Just sleeping. Maybe cuddling. I’m not gonna pounce you.”
Mera made another tiny sound, her whole body squirming like she didn’t know where to put her hands or her feet. She shuffled from one heel to the other, eyes darting between Jakira’s face and the floor. “I-I… I mean… I wouldn’t mind cuddling. Not that I was thinking about it, but… you’re very warm. Probably. You look warm. Strong too. Muscles. Lots of muscles. I like—” She slapped both hands over her mouth, mortified.
Jakira grinned, tusks flashing as she pushed off the wall. She leaned down just enough to meet Mera’s panicked gaze. “So that’s a yes?”
Mera squeaked again and nodded furiously, too flustered to form a real word.
Jakira chuckled, low and pleased, then waltzed over to her room and opened the door for her with a playful bow. “After you, short stuff.”
“O-okay.”
Polytheromance is happening!!!!
BIG EXCITE