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heliosunny · 3 months ago

Note

I can’t stop thinking about yan warlord mydei x princess hostage reader 😭 like idk js imagine princess reader being absolutely scared for her life “oh what’s he gonna do to me” and mydeis just thinking of dinner while readers js panicking and ykw what if reader slowly warms up and mydei gets obsessed and now refuses to give reader back after their country had offered to finally pay of the ransom money… sigh i bang my head against the wall thinking of them SIGHHH

This makes me curious how this duo would go, but I adjusted them in my version so princess reader is more brave, I guess? You'll see what I meant in this reading haha-

Yandere!Warlord Mydei x Princess!Reader

The battle had been lost, and you had been taken—prized like the spoils of war, but not treated like one. Mydei, feared across nations, had captured you, but instead of forcing you into submission, he had only one goal: to trade you back to your kingdom for a hefty sum.

Days passed in his stronghold, a fortress of steel and stone. He never touched you, never forced you into chains, only kept you guarded and waiting.

Tonight, however, wine dulled your senses. Perhaps it was frustration, or perhaps it was the twisted comfort of being ignored. You had indulged more than you should, and when the door creaked open, you reacted without thinking.

Mydei barely took a step inside before you lunged. His body hit the floor with a dull thud, your hands pressing against his chest as you hovered over him. He did not fight back.

"You're.. drunk?"

You tightened your grip on his fabric. "And you're an arrogant bastard."

"Is that what your kingdom calls the man who spared you?"

Mydei’s golden eyes studied you, he could have thrown you off in an instant, but he didn’t.

"You could have done anything to me..." you whispered, fingers trembling. "Why haven't you?"

"Because I don't need to take what I can win fairly."

Your heartbeat pounded against your ribs, but Mydei made no move to break the moment. Your body burned with wine and rebellion as you straddled the infamous warlord, his golden eyes watching you with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

If brute force wouldn’t work against a man like him, then something else would. With practiced ease, you slipped a small vial from your sleeve, its contents a subtle but effective muscle relaxant. Before Mydei could regret leaving you be, you tilted his chin up and pressed the vial to his lips, pouring the liquid down his throat.

His brows furrowed as he swallowed instinctively, his hand snapping up to grip your wrist. But it was too late.

"That," he murmured, "was underhanded."

You smirked, leaning in closer until your lips nearly brushed his. "So is kidnapping a princess for ransom."

His breath was warm against your skin, his grip on your wrist loosening as the effects of the medicine took hold. You traced a slow line down his jaw with your fingers, enjoying the rare vulnerability in the otherwise unshakable warrior.

"You're playing a dangerous game" he warned, though there was no true threat in his voice.

"Maybe. But what’s the fun in playing safe?"

You ghosted a kiss over his lips—not fully meeting them to make him aware of the heat between you. His breath hitched slightly, but his body was too weak to act.

Before you could push further, footsteps echoed in the hallway. A guard? A servant? It didn’t matter. You shot a glance at the door before swiftly moving off him, your heart racing as you bolted across the room.

With a quiet click, you locked the door just as a shadow passed by outside. You turned back to Mydei, who lay against the floor, watching you with unreadable intensity.

"You’re enjoying this."

You leaned back against the door, tilting your head. "I don’t know. Are you?"

Even weakened, even at a disadvantage, the smirk that curled on his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

You weren’t sure who had won this round.

The moment Mydei’s body slackened beneath you, a wicked idea took root in your mind. He was still strong—his sheer presence alone made that clear—but the medicine you had given him worked fast, dulling his movements just enough to tip the balance in your favor.

Slowly, deliberately, you leaned down, your breath warm against his skin as you trailed kisses down his throat. His pulse was steady, but you didn’t miss the way it jumped just slightly when your lips skimmed lower. Your hands followed, slipping beneath the layers of his clothing until your fingers brushed against bare skin.

You didn’t stop there. With a smirk, you let your lips hover over his chest, barely grazing over the hardened peak of his nipple. The reaction was instant—a sharp inhale, his body tensing beneath you despite the medicine weakening him. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if debating whether to grab you or let you continue your little game.

"Careful, princess, you’re walking a fine line."

"I thought you liked playing dangerous games."

----

Morning came with a dull ache in your head, the remnants of last night’s indulgence lingering like a haze over your thoughts. You groaned, rubbing your temples as you sat up, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window.

Your clothes were still intact, and nothing felt particularly out of place—so why did you have the distinct feeling that something had happened?

As you stood, stretching, your gaze caught sight of him. The bed sheets were messy, but that wasn’t what held your attention. It was the discarded clothes, the deep scratches and faint bruises. Those marks—finger-shaped impressions, reddened skin—weren’t from battle. They looked like… like someone had touched him intimately.

Had he brought a woman in here last night?

A strange irritation coiled in your chest, one you refused to name. It wasn’t your concern. What he did, who he spent his nights with, meant nothing to you. You were only here until your kingdom came for you.

"You're awake already?"

You hummed in response, moving toward the wash basin, focusing entirely on refreshing yourself instead of acknowledging his presence.

"You don’t remember, do you?"

Your hands paused over the water, brows furrowing slightly before you shook your head. "Remember what?"

"Nothing."

You didn’t press further, still refusing to face him. You could hear him moving behind you, perhaps dressing himself, perhaps watching you in that quiet, calculating way of his.

"I assume my kingdom will send for me soon." you said coolly, changing the subject.

"Perhaps."

His voice carried something unspoken, something you didn’t have the patience to decipher. You focused on your reflection in the water instead, ignoring the way your mind kept drifting back to the marks on his skin.

-----

The first time had been an 'accident'. This time, it was deliberate.

While Mydei was out handling whatever duties he had, you slipped away from your quarters and made your way to the kitchen. The servants stiffened at your arrival, their hands hovering in hesitation.

"Your highness, you shouldn’t be here.."

You ignored them, sweeping past to where the wine was stored. If Mydei had ordered them not to harm you, then they wouldn’t be able to stop you. And you were in the mood to test exactly how much defiance they’d tolerate.

A bottle was in your hand before they could say another word. You uncorked it and poured yourself a generous amount into a goblet, drinking deeply without care for how the servants exchanged uneasy glances.

"Your highness, please—"

"You can either leave me be." you cut in smoothly, swirling the wine in your cup, "or you can try and stop me." A smirk curled your lips as you raised a brow at them. "But I wonder, will Mydei be pleased if you lay a hand on me?"

That shut them up.

You took your time, savoring the wine, ignoring the way the servants whispered among themselves. Let them. It wasn’t their concern what you did.

By the time Mydei returned, you were already feeling the effects of your indulgence, lounging carelessly at the long wooden table, an empty goblet in hand.

The moment he stepped inside, the room went silent. The servants quickly bowed their heads and stepped away, making themselves scarce before they could be caught in whatever storm was about to come.

Golden eyes flickered over you, taking in the way you slouched, the flushed color dusting your skin. His expression didn’t change much—but you weren’t too drunk to miss the slight furrow in his brow.

"Again?"

You smirked, raising your empty cup as if in a toast. "Missed me?"

The amusement in your eyes didn’t waver, even as he placed a hand on the back of your chair, leaning in close.

"You’re making a habit of this"

"And you’re still letting me."

Mydei’s patience was wearing thin, but he didn’t stop you.

"You’ve had enough" he said as he reached for your wrist, likely intending to drag you back to your chamber.

When you both reached your chamber. You yanked your arm away and, with the force of your drunken determination, shoved him backward. He barely had time to react before his back hit the bed, his body sinking into the mattress as you loomed over him.

"You dare," you hissed, your balance swaying slightly but your anger keeping you steady, "to drag another woman into this room? To put shame on my kingdom’s name?"

His brows furrowed, completely caught off guard. "What?"

You scoffed, your gaze flicking down to his clothed chest.

Mydei followed your gaze, then exhaled through his nose, realization dawning. "You really don’t remember."

That only infuriated you further. You didn’t want his vague riddles.

"Drink!" you demanded, reaching for the wine bottle you had stolen from the kitchen.

He gave you a flat look. "No."

You straddled him, pressing the bottle to his lips, your own gaze burning with challenge. "What, scared?"

He didn’t fear you, not in the slightest—but something about this moment, about you, was different. Then, without breaking eye contact, he tilted his head back and drank.

You smirked, triumphant, before taking a long swig yourself. The warmth of the alcohol burned through your veins, fanning the fire already coursing through you.

"You think you can use me as a bargaining piece" you murmured, leaning down so your lips hovered just over his ear, "then play around with other women while I wait?"

His hands suddenly gripped your hips, steadying you. "You," he said, "are the only woman who has ever slept in this bed."

"Then prove it"

The moment Mydei swallowed another mouthful of wine, you smirked, setting the bottle aside. His golden eyes stayed locked onto yours.

"You’re still dressed." you murmured, your fingers already moving to the ties of his tunic.

He didn’t bother to do anything to stop you.

With slow, deliberate movements, you pulled the fabric apart. The marks you had seen earlier were still there.

"You act so untouchable," you whispered, dragging your fingers along his collarbone, "but I wonder…"

Leaning down, you pressed your lips to his skin, just beneath his jaw. Mydei inhaled slowly, his hands still resting on your hips, but he didn’t push you away.

"You’re playing with fire, princess."

You bit down his neck—"And yet," you whispered, tracing your tongue over the reddened spot, "you’re still letting me."

For once, Mydei didn’t have a response. Only the quiet sound of his breath and the tension in his body betrayed him.

And you? You were more than happy to keep testing his limits.

"You act like you’re in control. But right now… you’re completely at my mercy."

"You think so?"

You smirked. "I know so."

----

The morning light streamed through the windows, making you groan as you sat up, pressing a hand to your temple. Your head throbbed—yet another consequence of yesterday’s drinking.

You tried to recall the events of the evening, but everything was hazy. You remembered wine. You remembered Mydei beneath you, his body warm against your touch, the way his breath hitched when you teased him.

Did you…?

No, you shook the thought away. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that your father had sent word—he was prepared to take you back.

And so you followed Mydei out to the war camp, where your father and his men were waiting. The air was tense, the weight of negotiations lingering between them. You fully expected Mydei to take the offered gold, to trade you back without hesitation.

Instead, he crossed his arms and said, "Keep the money. I’ll marry the princess."

Your eyes widened. Your father’s expression darkened, his grip tightening on his sword. And Mydei’s own men, his most trusted warriors, stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

One of them stepped forward, his hand already on the hilt of his weapon. "Did you seduce him or something?"

Before you could respond, the cold press of steel touched your neck. You should have been furious. You should have spat a sharp retort. But instead, you turned your gaze to Mydei, waiting to see how he would respond.

Mydei grasped the hilt of the warrior’s sword and forced it away from your throat. The sheer strength in the motion made the man stagger back, his eyes widening in shock.

"Touch her again," Mydei said, "and I will cut you down myself."

The weight of his words settled over the camp. Mydei didn’t look at anyone else. His golden gaze was locked onto you.

You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself before speaking. "I need time to think."

"During this time," you continued, keeping your voice firm, "you will stay at my palace. If you refuse, then I won’t accept your proposal."

A beat of silence passed before he gave a single nod. "So be it."

You weren’t sure if you expected him to argue, but his quick agreement threw you off slightly. Nevertheless, it was settled.

And so, Mydei followed you back to your kingdom.

He brought along his most trusted warrior, a man named Rhaelon, a battle-worn soldier who clearly didn’t approve of any of this. You caught him watching you more than once, assessing you as if you were the one who had cast some spell over Mydei.

The first day was uneventful. Mydei didn’t cause trouble. He didn’t make demands. If anything, he acted as if this was nothing more than a political visit.

You thought, perhaps, this was just an impulsive decision on his part. That given a few days, he would realize the absurdity of his claim and leave on his own.

But then the second day came. And the third.

And Mydei was still here.

You sat in the study, fingers tapping idly against the polished wood of your desk as you regarded the man before you. Rhaelon stood stiffly, arms crossed.

"You wanted to see me, princess?" he asked, his voice level but cautious.

You didn’t waste time with pleasantries. "I need you to talk some sense into Mydei."

Rhaelon's brows lifted slightly. Clearly, he hadn’t expected you to be so direct.

"Sense?" he repeated.

You leaned forward slightly. "Doesn’t he have any women waiting for him back in his homeland? Some lover or noblewoman that suits him better than—this?" You gestured vaguely, frustration creeping into your tone. "Surely there’s someone he’s actually interested in."

Rhaelon exhaled through his nose. "You truly don’t understand, do you?"

"Understand what?"

Before he could answer, the door swung open.

A chill ran down your spine as you turned to see Mydei standing in the doorway, his golden gaze sharp, unreadable—but there was something else beneath the surface. Something darker.

Rhaelon stiffened. "My lord."

Mydei’s gaze flicked between the two of you, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "Should I be concerned about what’s going on here?"

You realized what he meant. He wasn’t asking about Rhaelon’s loyalty. He was asking about yours.

Before you could say anything, Mydei grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the study.

“What are you—?” you hissed, trying to yank your arm free, but his grip was firm. He didn’t say a word as he led you down the empty hall. Only when you were far from prying eyes did he stop, turning to face you.

"You…" he started, then paused, exhaling sharply as if debating whether to say it at all. His fingers twitched against your wrist before he finally released you, crossing his arms instead. "You don’t remember anything from that night, do you?"

"That night?"

His golden eyes flickered away for a brief second—was he… shy? No, that couldn’t be right.

"You were the one who pushed me down" he muttered. "You forced me to drink. You—" He cut himself off, inhaling deeply before rubbing a hand over his face.

Your mouth parted slightly as the memories started to piece themselves together. The wine. The way you had kissed him. The feeling of his body tensing under your touch.

"I… did all that?"

Mydei’s eyes flicked back to you, searching your face for something—regret? Guilt? Amusement? You weren’t sure what he found, but his shoulders stiffened slightly. "You truly don’t remember?"

You looked away, your mind racing. You had been too drunk to realize the full extent of what you were doing. And Mydei… he had let you. Even now, he wasn’t angry—just… flustered?

A wave of guilt settled in your chest.

"I didn’t mean to…" You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

This was suddenly far more serious than you had anticipated.

And for the first time since this all started, you didn’t know how to respond.

You didn’t sleep that night.

You had assumed he was just acting on impulse. A warlord staking a claim out of convenience, out of power, maybe even out of drunken amusement. But now…

Now you weren’t sure.

Before you could reach an answer, morning arrived far too soon.

And with it—chaos.

The doors to your chambers slammed open so violently that they nearly came off their hinges.

"PRINCESS!"

Your childhood friend.

The one you had forgotten amidst everything that had happened.

They stood at the entrance, eyes blazing, fury written across every inch of their face. Their entire body trembled as they took a step forward—only to be blocked by a broad figure.

Mydei.

He had moved before you could even react, standing between you and the intruder.

Your friend’s hands clenched into fists. "Get out of my way!" they snarled, "You think you can just take her like some war prize?!"

"She is mine."

Before you could step in, they were already fighting.

It happened so fast—your friend lunging, a blur of rage and desperation, fists swinging wildly at Mydei. And Mydei, unshaken, effortlessly dodging every strike.

You tried to call out, but neither of them listened.

Then—a sharp crack.

Mydei’s fist slammed into your friend’s stomach, sending them stumbling back, gasping for air. Another blow followed, a knee to the ribs, and then a swift kick that sent them sprawling onto the floor.

"Stop!" you finally shouted, rushing forward, but by the time you reached them, it was already over.

Your friend lay on the ground, barely able to move, blood dripping from their lip. Mydei could have killed them if he wanted. The fact that your friend was even still breathing meant he had been holding back.

But that didn’t make this any easier to process.

You turned to Mydei, speechless.

And for the first time, you truly questioned—

Just what kind of man had you entangled yourself with?

You turned to Mydei, "Just... go back to your land."

His gaze darkened slightly, but for once, he didn’t argue. He simply watched as you walked away, leaving him standing there in silence.

But he didn’t leave you alone.

Days passed, then weeks.

And with them came letters.

At first, they were composed, measured—requests for you to reconsider, to return to his side.

Then, they became desperate. Sad. Conflicted. Madness creeping into the ink.

Some pages were scrawled with sharp, uneven strokes, as if written in frustration. Others bore words so faint they looked like he had hesitated to even send them.

"I will have you back." "Do you even think of me?" "This silence is unbearable. I should just take you." "Come back. Come back. Come back."

You had thought of ignoring them entirely. But when Rhaelon himself arrived at the palace gates, you knew you had no choice but to confront this.

"Lord Mydei has asked for you."

You hesitated. But in the end, you went.

And what you found was… unexpected.

The great hall of Mydei’s fortress was filled with women. They sat around him, draped in fine silks, each vying for his attention with soft words and delicate touches.

Yet—

Not a single glance spared their way.

Your gaze flicked to Rhaelon, giving him a "What the hell is going on?" look.

He merely exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to say, "I have no idea."

Then—Mydei saw you.

And everything changed. His golden eyes lit up. In an instant, he pushed the women aside—literally shoving them out of his way as if they were mere obstacles—and strode toward you.

You barely had time to process before he was standing right in front of you, towering over you.

Rhaelon sighed heavily, rubbing his temple before turning away.

"I'll leave you two to… whatever this is."

He gave you a look that said don’t do anything reckless before motioning to the others. Within moments, the hall emptied, the murmuring servants and lingering women slipping away until it was just you and Mydei.

"If I cannot have you, I will destroy your kingdom. I will slay every last one of them until their blood drowns the land."

"And when it’s done.." he continued "Then I will follow them. I will end myself."

You slapped him.

The sharp sound echoed through the empty hall.

He didn’t flinch. Just stood there, waiting—no, desperate—for your response.

Your hands trembled with anger. "You think killing will make me love you?" Your voice was steel, each word laced with fury. "You think shedding the blood of my people, the people I swore to protect, will bring me to your side?"

"I'm.... sorry."

It was quiet. Sincere. But it wasn’t enough.

Because in the next breath, he added, "But I won’t stop."

"If you deny me now," he continued, "I will keep chasing. Keep persuading. No matter where you run, no matter who stands in my way—" His fingers curled into fists. "I will find you."

So you said the only thing that could end this.

"Then I’ll kill myself."

Mydei’s entire body tensed, his expression shifting from shock to something dangerously unreadable. "No."

"Maybe that will be the only way to finally end this madness."

"NO." His voice was sharp, raw, a mix of fury and something close to panic. He grabbed you then, hands tight on your arms as he glared down at you. "I won’t let you. You think I would stand by and watch you die? You think I would ever allow it?"

For the first time, he looked afraid.

---

You never thought it would come to this.

Standing before Mydei, adorned in ceremonial attire, you felt nothing but emptiness.

The vows had been spoken. The warlord who once threatened your people was now your husband. And you—his wife.

Even after the wedding, the weight of reality pressed on you, suffocating. Mydei had been surprisingly restrained throughout the day.

But that night… he drank.

And Mydei’s drinking sucked.

You had expected him to hold himself together. But the moment you stepped into the chambers you now shared, you found him seated near the table, an empty bottle clutched in his hand.

He was a mess.

"Really, Mydei? On our wedding night?"

His gaze lifted lazily to you, a slow smirk curling on his lips. "You expected something different, wife?"

"Drinking yourself into oblivion on our first night as a married couple? That’s pathetic."

"Would you rather I take you to bed instead?" His golden eyes darkened. "Would that make you happier?"

"I'd rather you act like a husband, not some miserable drunk."

That seemed to strike something in him.

"You hate me, don’t you?"

Did you hate him?

You sighed, stepping forward and snatching the bottle from his hand. He barely resisted, just watching you with those damn eyes.

"Enough, Mydei." You set the bottle aside. "Go to bed."

He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze tracing your face, before he sighed and leaned back against the chair.

"What a mess" you thought, watching him.

What a disaster this marriage would be.

What you didn't expect was him kissing you right after.

You gasped against his lips, your hands pressing against his chest, intending to push him away—but he wouldn’t let you.

His calloused fingers slid along your jaw, tilting your head back as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing closer.

This wasn’t like him.

This was Mydei with his inhibitions stripped away.

He was drunk, reckless—doing everything he never dared to do when sober.

His lips trailed lower, ghosting over your jaw, your throat. A sharp gasp escaped you as he bit down—hard enough to leave a mark.

"You’re mine now."

This was dangerous.

This was the man who once threatened to tear your kingdom apart for you. And now, he was falling apart in your arms.

"Mydei, you're drunk. You need to stop."

His lips lingered at your collarbone before he finally stilled. His arms were still wrapped around you, his breathing heavy.

And then—he slumped against you.

Completely unconscious.

You stared at his sleeping form, utterly stunned.

"You have got to be kidding me."

This was your husband.

This was your wedding night.

And he passed out before he could even finish what he started.

You let out a long, exhausted sigh before shoving him off you. "Idiot."

You didn’t even bother covering him up as you turned away, crawling onto the bed and facing the other direction.

What a disaster of a first night.

You woke up feeling disoriented.

Your wedding night had been nothing like what you expected.

Your husband—if you could even call him that without cringing—had gotten himself stupidly drunk, kissed you senseless, left a few marks on you… and then passed out before he could do anything else.

It was ridiculous.

And yet, as you sat up and looked at him—still fast asleep, shirt half undone, hair a mess from last night’s recklessness—you felt something unsettling crawl up your spine.

This is real.

You were his wife now.

And no matter how much you wanted to ignore it, he wasn’t going to let you go.

With a sigh, you climbed out of bed, trying not to think too much about last night as you dressed yourself. Mydei was still asleep, and honestly, you didn’t feel like dealing with him first thing in the morning.

Maybe some fresh air would help.

Or at least, that was your plan.

But the second you stepped outside—

An arrow whizzed past your head.

You barely had time to register the danger before a sharp scream tore from your throat, and you did the most natural thing your instincts demanded—

You bolted back inside and hid behind Mydei.

The man who just woke up with a pounding headache and a wife clinging to his back.

Mydei groaned, rubbing his temple as he blinked blearily at you. "…What are you doing?"

"I ALMOST DIED!" you shrieked, gripping his shoulders tighter. "THERE WAS AN ARROW!"

He sighed. "…So?"

"SO?!" You gawked at him. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘SO’?! I WAS ALMOST MURDERED!"

Mydei, still half-asleep, stretched before casually walking to the doorway, completely unfazed. You clung to him like a lifeline, peeking out from behind his broad frame.

Outside, one of his men stood in the distance, bow in hand. They met Mydei’s gaze and immediately lowered their weapon. "Apologies, my lord. Didn’t realize the lady was awake."

"DIDN’T REALIZE—"

Mydei let out another sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You should be more careful, idiot. The castle gets attacked all the time."

You stared at him, horrified. "All the time?!"

He nodded. "Yeah. Assassins, enemy spies—it's normal." Then, as if realizing something, he glanced over his shoulder at you, "But… since you're here now, I suppose I should try to put an end to it."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You weren't sure why.

You swallowed hard, slowly stepping out from behind him. "You better."

He smirked. "Scared?"

You glared. "Shut up... Should I leave a letter if I die here?"

Mydei’s expression darkened instantly.

"Don’t say that."

You raised a brow. "Why not? If assassins are a common thing here, I should be prepared. Maybe something like—‘If I die, please send my body back to my kingdom. Also, Mydei was a terrible husband—’"

Before you could finish, Mydei turned on his heel and stormed out.

"...Did I hit a nerve?"

You had no idea where he was going, but judging from the sharpness of his steps, he was pissed.

Moments later, you heard shouting. Then—the unmistakable sound of swords clashing.

You didn’t even have to look outside to know what was happening.

He was killing them. Every assassin, every hidden threat lurking around his castle—he was slaughtering them all.

Just because you joked about dying.

Somewhere deep down, you should’ve felt flattered.

Instead, you sighed and let yourself sink into a nearby chair.

Moments later, a few maids entered the room, their expressions carefully neutral. One of them spoke hesitantly. "My lady, the lord has ordered us to take care of you while he… handles things outside."

"Figures." You rubbed your temples. "Let me guess, he doesn’t want me seeing all that blood?"

The maid nodded.

You rolled your eyes. "Typical."

Even when he was being brutal, he was still thinking about you.

Hours later, Mydei finally returned, his clothes stained with blood.

You didn’t even bother asking if it was his. You already knew the answer.

Instead, you crossed your arms, watching as he stepped inside the room, wiping his hands with a cloth like he hadn’t just murdered a dozen people.

"Happy now?" he asked dryly, tossing the cloth aside.

"Not really. You still suck as a husband."

"Yet, you’re still here."

"For now." You leaned back against the couch, narrowing your eyes at him. "I was going to tell you to go back home, but I assume you’d rather die than listen to me."

"Probably." Then, his smirk faded slightly. "But honestly, having me as your husband and your father’s son-in-law would be much more useful for your kingdom’s army, wouldn’t you say?"

You stilled.

That… was actually true.

Annoyingly true.

With Mydei’s reputation, his military strength, and the sheer fear he instilled in enemies, having him officially aligned with your kingdom would mean a massive advantage in warfare.

You hated that it made sense.

You hated that he knew you would consider it.

After a long pause, you sighed in defeat. "Fine."

"I knew you’d see reason, wife."

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the way he said wife and instead focused on glaring at him. "But you’re still a jealous idiot."

"What?"

You smirked back. "You’re bad at controlling it."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

You scoffed. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Despite your teasing, you knew the truth.

His jealousy was his greatest weakness.

And you?

You were starting to enjoy testing it.

----

You still weren’t used to calling him your husband—every time the title left your lips, it felt wrong in your mouth, like a misplaced word in a sentence that shouldn’t exist.

But one thing was painfully obvious:

Mydei was terrible at handling his jealousy.

It was almost amusing how easily he unraveled when it came to you.

For instance—today.

You were in the courtyard, speaking with one of your father’s generals, a seasoned warrior named Eryndor—a man significantly older than you, well-respected, and absolutely no threat.

Yet, when Mydei saw you laugh at something Eryndor said, his entire demeanor shifted.

When you turned your head to look at him, he wasn’t glaring at you—he was glaring at Eryndor.

The poor man had no idea.

Here we go again.

Eryndor finally noticed the intense stare aimed his way and turned to greet him.

"Leave"

Eryndor blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Leave," Mydei repeated, stepping closer. "Now."

Eryndor, wise enough not to test the infamous warlord, gave you a look that said I fear for your life before quickly excusing himself.

The moment he was gone, Mydei turned his attention to you.

You crossed your arms. "Really?"

"You were laughing."

"Oh, forgive me for having a sense of humor."

"With him."

"He’s old enough to be my father."

"Doesn’t matter."

"So you’re telling me that the mere sight of me speaking to another man makes you want to commit murder?"

"Yes."

But you refused to let him win this easily.

Leaning in slightly, you tilted your head, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "If I’m yours… then shouldn’t you trust me?"

You didn’t give him time to respond. Instead, you simply turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him standing there, seething.

----

Mydei certainly lived up to his name—a warlord who had been in and out of battle for most of his life.

This time was no different.

Tensions had been brewing between the western kingdom of Vaelmont and the eastern territories. A long-standing rivalry, years of uneasy truces, and a final betrayal—the assassination of one of Vaelmont’s highest generals.

Naturally, war erupted.

Your father, a strategic ruler, remained neutral at first. But when Mydei’s presence was requested to lead the eastern forces, he did not hesitate to send him.

Thus, Mydei left for war, leaving you behind in the palace.

And that was where the real trouble began.

It wasn’t a secret that your beauty and sharp mind had drawn the attention of many suitors—even before Mydei.

But now that Mydei was gone?

The floodgates opened.

Letters arrived daily.

Some were from rival kingdoms hoping to take you as a bride and weaken your father’s army. Others came from lords and nobles who wished to turn Mydei against your kingdom—knowing he had taken a liking to you.

Some were polite. Some were desperate. Others? Downright vile.

Each one was denied. Every. Single. One.

Yet, they continued.

Your servants grew increasingly worried. "My lady, should we report this to the king?"

You shook your head. "No. Burn them."

But no matter how many were burned, more arrived.

One particularly bold noble even snuck into the palace under the guise of an envoy, only to propose in person.

He barely left with his life after you had the guards throw him out.

When Mydei finally returned from war, he was victorious.

But his victory was quickly overshadowed by what he learned from the servants.

He had barely stepped foot in the palace when they rushed to inform him—

How suitors had flooded you with letters. How some had tried to steal you away.

They told him everything.

And Mydei… was livid.

He wasted no time.

The men who had sent those letters?

He dug up every single one of their crimes.

Corruption. Treason. Exploitation.

It didn’t matter if they were dukes, lords, or noble heirs.

He executed them all.

Their heads were hung in the public square, a warning to all.

Among those who dared to seek you out, Lord Verent of Alsmire was the boldest.

He was not just a noble—he was a seasoned manipulator, a man who thrived on deceit and indulgence. Known for his wealth, his twisted tastes, and his unshakable belief that everything had a price.

And in his mind, you were simply another prize to be bought.

When letters failed, he attempted bribery. Gold, gems, even promises of entire estates—all sent to the palace, all rejected.

But Verent was not a man who accepted refusal.

So, on one night, he made his final move.

The plan was simple—bribe the guards, drug the servants, and take you under the cover of darkness.

You were sleeping when they entered your chambers.

A cloth drenched in poppy extract was already prepared, meant to render you weak and compliant.

But what Verent didn’t know was you were no fool.

You had sensed the danger in the palace long before this night.

So when the hands grabbed you, when the cloth neared your mouth

You did not succumb.

Instead, you smashed a hidden vial of powder into Verent’s face.

His screams split the silence as he clutched his face, stumbling backward. The guards, now alert, stormed the room, catching his struggling form as you commanded them to throw him into the dungeons.

Of course Mydei couldn't let it slide.

There was no trial.

There was no mercy.

Instead, Verent was dragged into the town square, his wrists bound, his face still disfigured from the powder burns.

The people of the city gathered, whispers filling the air as Mydei stepped forward.

"This man attempted to steal what is mine."

Verent tried to plead, to beg—but Mydei did not care.

His fingernails were torn off one by one.

His tongue was cut out—so he would never whisper false promises again.

And finally—he was flayed alive.

His screams echoed through the city for hours.

When it was done, his skinned corpse was impaled on a pike, his head placed atop the city gates for all to see.

But Mydei was not finished.

He ordered the entire Verent bloodline to be erased.

And before nightfall, every last one of them was dead.

When Mydei returned to you, his hands were still stained with blood.

He did not look regretful.

If anything, he looked satisfied.

"No man will ever dare to claim you again."

For days, the air had been thick with blood and death.

But tonight?

Tonight, the city was celebrating.

The warlord had rid the land of traitors and cowards. His men, his allies, even some nobles who aligned themselves with him—they all drank in his name.

And, as expected, so did Mydei himself.

Yet, instead of spending the night in revelry, surrounded by his soldiers, he found himself standing outside your chamber.

The flickering torchlight in the hallway cast a long shadow beneath your door.

He wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t knocking.

Just… standing there.

You frowned, watching the unmoving shadow. Even inebriated, he was quiet.

Finally, you sighed. You weren’t going to pretend not to notice.

With a flick of your wrist, you opened the door.

Mydei stood there, dressed in half-undone battle robes. The deep crimson fabric hung loosely over his shoulders, exposing the hardened planes of his chest. His usual fierce golden eyes were clouded with alcohol, his lips slightly parted as if he had been debating whether to speak or not.

The moment his gaze met yours, he stiffened.

You raised a brow. “Are you planning to stand there all night?”

He was still unsure what to say.

It was almost amusing—a man who could execute an entire bloodline without hesitation now struggling to speak to you.

But then, the faintest furrow appeared on his brow, and he exhaled.

“…I shouldn’t be here.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Then why are you?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He had been drunk before. You had seen it. But never like this.

Never so… uncertain.

“…I don’t know” he finally admitted.

That was a lie.

You knew exactly why he was here.

He wanted to enter. But he wouldn’t dare to.

Not unless you allowed it.

You could end this now. Send him away. Close the door. Leave him to his thoughts.

Or…

“Come in.” you murmured, stepping aside just slightly.

You hadn't expected him to actually listen.

Yet, the moment you stepped aside, Mydei entered.

The scent of wine and steel clung to him, his movements slower than usual but still unmistakably powerful.

You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

But as the night stretched on, his drunken haze didn’t stop him from reaching for you.

It was subtle at first—his fingers brushing against yours, the heat of his body drawing closer.

You thought, perhaps, it was just the effects of alcohol.

That, once sleep claimed him, he’d let go.

But he didn’t.

Even as his breaths deepened, even as his grip slackened just slightly—he never fully released you.

Every time you shifted, his grip adjusted, ensuring you couldn’t slip away.

Even in sleep, he still wouldn’t let you go.

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #mydeimos #mydei #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #honkai star rail mydei

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julia-beatrice · 8 months ago

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Idk thought I'd share it

Some concept sketch for an Amnesia movie poster I did I don't remember how long ago

It looks silly ngl xD

#amnesia the dark descent #daniel of mayfair #frictional games #alexander of brennenburg #servant brute #servant grunt

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lcatala · 4 months ago

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In The Locked Tomb, the Sun is named Dominicus. There's actually quite a bit to unpack in terms of etymology and subliminal historical symbolism.

So in Classical Latin, before christianization, the first day of the week was called dies solis, literally day of the sun — the names of that day in Germanic languages, like English Sunday, German Sonntag or Icelandic sunnudagur are in fact direct translations of the Latin name that came about as the result of cultural exchanges between the early Germanic people and the Romans.

Now bear with me for a second.

Latin for house is domus. From this is derived dominus which originally means master of the house, head of the household, and by extension master of servants and slaves, ruler, lord — in contrast with the magister which in Classical Latin is the schoolmaster (but from this word is derived the modern word master with its expended semantic range).

As Christianity took over the Roman world (first by persuasion, then by force), Dominus came to be used increasingly as a term of address for God, similar to English Lord.

From Dominus is derived the adjective dominicus which originally signifies of or pertaining to the master and so with christianization, of or pertaining to God/Our Lord.

Another consequence of christianization was that the name for the first day of the week, dies solis day of the sun was displaced by dies dominicus/dies dominica day of Our Lord (the word dies day could be grammatically either masculine or feminine in Latin, hence the two possible agreement patterns on the adjective). This is the source of the name for Sunday in the various Romance languages: Spanish and Portuguese domingo, Catalan diumenge, French dimanche, Italian domenica, Sardinian domíniga, Romanian duminică, etc.

So John having renamed the Sun Dominicus, is not only quite significant etymologically since the Sun is now literally (the one) of Our Lord, (the one) of the Master of the House(s), but it's taking what historically was merely a change of referent (the first day of the week no longer refers to the pagan Sun but to the One God of the Christians) and making it a literal transformation, since the Sun itself is demoted from being the Sun to being just another one of John's properties, to a mere adjective, all the while imposing Christian symbolism by brute force.

And of course this isn't just a label, we know John did something physical to the Sun so that it has become directly linked to John's power; if John dies, the Sun dies, and as long as John lives, the Sun will last forever.

This is the pinnacle of John's motif of control thru renaming that started with Alecto, the original lyctors, and their cavaliers.

#the locked tomb #etymology #linguistics #fantasy #symbolism

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j-593 · 2 years ago

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The Amnesia series GOOD

#amnesia the dark descent #amnesia #servant brute

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kashverse · 5 months ago

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nanami’s handwriting is, as expected, immaculate. each letter crafted with the precision of a master calligrapher who moonlights as a salaryman. his strokes are even, calculated—like he’s silently judging the lesser beings who dare to write with anything less than perfection. of course, the sheer volume of paperwork he deals with has refined his skill. he’s the type to write his grocery lists in flawless cursive, only for gojo to ruin it by doodling sunglasses on the "eggs" entry.

gojo, on the other hand, has the handwriting of a child who just learned how to grip a pencil. it's an offense to the written word. his letters are uneven, loopy, and aggressively inconsistent, like they’re protesting against being confined to the page. it’s a miracle if he doesn’t turn a signature into a doodle of his own face. not that he ever signs anything—he usually leaves that to nanami, much to the latter’s dismay.

geto’s handwriting is elegant, of course. smooth, refined, the kind of script that belongs in historical documents and love letters no one was ever meant to find. it’s clear he’s practiced—perhaps too much. he probably picked up calligraphy in secret, pretending it was some profound, personal pursuit, but really, he just wanted his notes to look better than gojo’s (not a high bar). and they do. he could write an insult in the most graceful script and you’d thank him for the honor.

toji’s handwriting is less handwriting and more a desperate scrawl. he writes like someone trying to forge an ominous killer’s insignia and failing miserably. his letters look like they were scratched into the paper with a dull knife rather than a pen. half the time, he runs out of ink mid-sentence, but instead of refilling the pen, he just presses harder, as if brute force will solve his problems. it never does.

and then there’s sukuna, a man who has never written a single word in his life. why would he? he had servants, he had uraume—why dirty his hands with something so menial? and it shows. if you ever did manage to get him to write something down, it would look like an ancient curse that needs an entire research team to decipher. his grip on a pen is likely unnatural, like watching a cat try to hold chopsticks. at best, he can carve his name into flesh, but paper? absolutely not. his handwriting is a crime against literacy.

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sumiieon · 5 months ago

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✦ Season of Love

ノ When the flowers started blooming back as the scent of spring slithers back into our body, whereas the season of love has just begun.

♡ What I think the current Chrysos Heirs' love languages are ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 957

✦ Note ; beware of spelling mistakes and grammar error due to english not being my first language T_T ⸝⸝ while this writing was meant to be romantic, you can take it however you like! (platonic or romantic.) ⸝⸝ I won't write for Tribbios in this one! ⸝⸝ I apologize if they're ooc because this is my first time writing them

♡ Phainon, The Hero ノ Words of Affirmation ⸝⸝ Acts of Service (Physical Touch might work for him too,,)

For whatever reason it is, I see Phainon as the kind of guy to shower you with compliments that you totally deserve while carrying all the stuff you were struggling to carry with ease. Would always get down on one knee and kiss your knuckles like they're a treasure for him (Like you yourself isn't a treasure he holds dear already), if not that then bridal carries you.

Phainon is protective of you; you could trip and get a scar that is barely a scratch on your being and he would get into a teary-eyed dramatic frenzy panic. You can many times assure him that you are very much okay and he will still worry dead for you.

"Are you okay?! Do you need me to carry you up?! Should we go see a doctor?!?-" "Phainon, it's just a scratch."

Overall a massive head over heels sweetheart that is afraid of losing his loved one and would give his life away to protect you <3

♡ Aglaea, The Weaver ノ Gifts Giving ⸝⸝ Quality Time Okay I know this might not sound like it makes sense, but imagine juuust imagine Aglaea making clothes and/or accessories that reminds her of you and then gifting them to you. She will come across a fabric and then once it reminds her of you, even for the tiniest things ever, she will start sewing and sewing and then boom, an entire set for you just the next day standing at the corner of your room.

Aside from bathing together, Aglaea loves hearing your voice. As a demigod with a duty to protect Okhema, she will obviously be busy and that's no doubt, but she will somehow always leave a room in her busy schedule for you. For you, she will even endure the stupidest of the stupidest questions ever.

"Aglaea, what if the golden blood in the Chrysos Heir's bath is actually piss?" "Yes, My Dear."

You might be an idiot, but you're her idiot <3

♡ Mydeimos, The Undying ノ Acts of Service ⸝⸝ Gifts Giving It's no doubt that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos prefers to let his actions speak for him because words have failed him multiple times already. While he may not verbally express his love for you much, Mydei would slay a god for you and hand you their heart as a gift. I'm just kidding, he's not just a hot headed brute. But, still, he will give you gifts that reminds him of you, or just things you like generally. Oh you were walking together and he heard you gushing over something of your interest? You will find that same said thing the next day you wake up placed on your nightstand.

Mydei will remember things about you, even ones that are tiny and useless. He will remember the precise number of the plushies in your room and your breakfast routine if you tell him. Would tag you along to have a bite at the restaurant that serves his favourite pancake, and would let you know that he actually likes the pink in his pomegranate juice. While Mydei becomes more gentle with you around, he also gets extra protective of you, by nature. Nobody really mess with you unless they have a death wish because of this.

"What? No no! Mydei is actually super nice! You just need to get to know him to see that side." *radiates passively agressive aura*

By the end, Mydei softens around you like a lion turning into a house-cat. His sarcastic remarks stays though! <3 /hj

♡ Castorice, Servant of Death ノ Quality Time ⸝⸝ Words of Affirmation Due to her curse, Castorice has been deprived of physical contacts for so long throughout her life. She is well aware of this, and because of it too, makes sure you physically keep your distance away from her at least a little. Not because she has any grudges against you obviously! The Servant, in fact, loves you very very much and deeply wishes she could hold you and vice versa. When it comes to this, Castorice makes a plushie resembling you for her to hold at hard times.

While she's incapable of touching you in fear of sending you to the not-so-sweet embrace of death, Castorice loves spending time with you. You two could sit under the white gazebo nestled at the garden of Marmoreal Palace, and she would tell you all sorts of story revolving around the history of the Titans and more. If not that, then she will make accessories together with you. Aside from that, Castorice showers you with sweet words that she wishes you know of too.

"[Name], I sincerely hope you are aware of just how blessed I am to be in your presence.." "I love you too, Castorice."

Castorice might be cursed with the touch of death, but just by your existence had the burden on her shoulders be lifted off slightly and The Servant is very grateful of it <3

#hsr x reader #x reader #phainon x reader #mydei x reader #aglaea x reader #castorice x reader #amphoreus #honkai star rail #writing #fleuriion #hsr

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artemiszy · 10 months ago

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I read your Hades x Persephone reader story when the seasons changed, and I loved it. Is it okay to request a story about Poseidon and Amphitrite reader? If it's okay with you?

THE WRATH OF THE SEA | Poseidon X Reader

Poseidon x Amphitrite!Reader | Record of Ragnarok

"In which the fearsome sea god is furious, and perhaps a wife can give him some peace."

WARNING. poseidon being himself(a little shit). forced relationship. FEMALE READER

The waters, normally an extension of Poseidon's serene power, were now in constant turmoil. High, violent waves crashed against the shores, dragging away boats and leaving the skies covered in dark, threatening clouds. Fishermen were afraid to venture out to sea, and the usually peaceful sea creatures were restless, as if sensing the anger emanating from the depths.

Poseidon, the God of the Sea, rarely showed his emotions so openly, but in recent days, even the other gods had begun to realize that something was terribly wrong. Deep in the ocean, his palace of coral and precious stones was shrouded in a heavy atmosphere. Marine guardians and servants moved silently, fearful of disturbing their lord. Poseidon himself remained on his throne, his eyes fixed on a distant point, as if searching for something that even he could not define.

In the great hall of the Council of Valhalla, where the gods gathered to discuss the fate of the world, the tension was palpable. The thrones were occupied by the powerful deities, but there was a notable emptiness; Poseidon's place was unoccupied. He, who should have been present to discuss the matters affecting his domain, had isolated himself, absent both in body and spirit.

— "There is something wrong with the seas." — One of the gods began as the others murmured throughout the vast hall. — "Poseidon is not at peace, and his unrest is affecting our entire domain."

— "And what should we do?" — Another god questioned. — "We cannot allow the outburst of a single enraged god to cause irreparable damage."

— "Then let us send someone to confront him!" — Proposed another god with a determination that bordered on enthusiasm, perhaps a god of war, be it Ares or from another pantheon. — "Perhaps some powerful creature, a titan, or even an army of monsters or gods. That should calm him down."

Before another god could answer, two black ravens, Hugin and Munin, Odin's messengers, flew into the hall, landing on the arm of their master's throne. Odin, the father of all, tilted his head slightly, as if he were hearing a whisper that only he could understand, his wise eyes turned to Zeus.

Zeus, the king of the gods, held his hand up signaling for everyone to be silent, then the old-looking god put his hands behind his back and began to laugh a few short times.

— "Brute force will not solve this problem." — Zeus informed, in the center where his throne was. — "What my brother needs is something more... delicate. Poseidon has always been lonely, even among us. He needs someone who can bring balance, calm the chaos that is in his soul." — And then he announced it to everyone as if it were a simple and obvious solution. — "My brother must marry."

Zeus's suggestion hung in the air like a bolt of lightning about to strike. There was a murmur among the gods, who exchanged uncertain glances. The idea of Poseidon, the ruthless and secretive tyrant of the seas, marrying was almost inconceivable. However, the circumstances called for extraordinary measures, and everyone there knew it.

And who, among the many deities, nymphs, and other beings, would be capable of assuming such a role?

Odin, the wise father of all, who had remained silent until then, nodded slowly, his long beard swaying slightly.

— "Balance is the key to avoiding chaos." — Odin said, his deep voice filled with ancient wisdom, silencing everyone else with only his powerful aura. — "A marriage could provide that balance. But who would be capable of uniting with Poseidon?"

The question hung in the air, with no immediate answer. The gods knew that finding a wife for Poseidon would be no easy task. The choice should be made with caution, for this union was not merely a matter of love or desire, but a necessity to preserve the order of the seas.

— "Let me handle it." — Zeus waved one of his hands in a relaxed manner. — "I know my brother very well. We will calm the seas, and he will find the peace he so seeks."

The murmurs grew in volume, but no one openly disagreed with the suggestion, although they had their doubts. The idea of the merciless God of the Seas of the Greek pantheon who was capable of even terrorizing other deities, and marrying seemed like a distant idea.

Zeus turned his gaze to Poseidon's throne in the council of Valhalla, which, at all times, was empty. His brother was absent from the meeting, wrapped in his own internal storm. Zeus knew that to persuade Poseidon, it would take more than words or orders. It was a matter of making him realize that, without balance, even the most powerful could fall.

— "I will speak with him." — Zeus declared at last, banging the gavel. — "And with that, I declare the meeting closed."

In the heart of the ocean, far below the tumultuous surfaces where the storms raged, tranquility still reigned. It was there, in the depths, where the currents were gentle and the sunlight was only a distant whisper, that (Name) and her sisters, the Nereids, spent their days. (Name), the oldest and most beautiful of the sisters, was known for her kindness and grace, virtues that made her beloved among all the creatures of the sea.

On that particular day, the sea was rougher than usual, even in the depths where the Nereids usually gathered. However, (Name) and her sisters did not allow the tumult of the waters to interrupt their moment of fun. They were on a reef near the surface, where the currents brought a refreshing sensation, and the environment was perfect for their games.

— "(Name), look at that wave!" — Shouted one of the Nereids, laughing as she glided along the crest of a wave that was forming over the reef. — "It's taller than anything we've ever seen!"

(Name) smiled, her (e/c) shining with the light filtering through the water. She was about to answer when a distinct movement caught her attention. Two figures were approaching the reef, their imposing outlines quickly recognized by all the Nereids. It was Zeus, the king of the gods, accompanied by his older brother, Poseidon.

— "Look there..." — Murmured one of the Nereids, bowing slightly to them.

The Nereids, always respectful, moved away discreetly, leaving the way clear for the gods to approach. (Name), however, felt her heart accelerate unexpectedly. Poseidon, the god of the seas, was a figure that inspired fear. She only knew him from afar, from the stories told by the others, and from the austere presence he maintained over his domain. But now, he was there, in front of her, and his eyes seemed fixed on her in a way that made her stomach turn.

— "The sea is rough today, brother." — Zeus commented, his tone carrying a lightness that contrasted with the gravity of the situation. He cast a playful glance at Poseidon. — "But it seems you found something that caught your attention."

Poseidon, always austere and rigid in posture, gave Zeus a stern look, but did not respond immediately. His eyes, however, betrayed his interest. He observed (Name) with an intensity that he could not hide, even from himself. It was as if, in that moment, the rest of the world became irrelevant, and only (Name)'s graceful figure mattered.

— "She is... interesting." — Poseidon finally murmured, more to himself than to his brother.

Zeus let out a low laugh, noticing Poseidon's rare tone of voice, which almost seemed like a glimpse of vulnerability.

— "Different, yes. Maybe that's exactly what you need, brother." — Zeus said, with a mischievous smile on his lips behind his long white beard. — "Who knows, a wife to calm the seas?"

Poseidon looked at Zeus with sharp eyes, but did not argue. Instead, his thoughts began to fixate on the idea, something he had never considered before. Zeus's suggestion, although made with a playful tone, planted a seed in his mind.

Meanwhile, (Name), unaware of the conversations that were happening between the gods, went back to playing with her sisters, but the weight of Poseidon's gaze did not leave her mind. She tried to focus on the laughter and fun around her, but a part of her consciousness was alert, feeling that something was changing.

The days passed, but (Name)'s mind kept returning to that strange and silent encounter with the god of the seas. She tried not to think about it too much, but something inside her knew that that moment, that look, held more meaning than she could understand.

Until one night, when the waters were calmer and the sky shone with the starlight reflected on the surface, (Name) was alone, lost in thought. She had moved away from her sisters, seeking a moment of peace in a deeper corner of the ocean, where the currents were gentle and the rarefied light created an atmosphere of stillness.

It was in this moment of solitude that (Name) heard, in the distance, a whispered conversation that made her stop. Curious, she swam towards the source of the sound, hiding in the shadows so as not to be noticed. Her ears caught the voice of her father, Nereus, in discussion with figures she did not immediately recognize, but who seemed to exude an unfamiliar authority.

— "We will calm the seas when Poseidon is satisfied." — Said one of the voices, deep and emotionless. — "He needs a mate, someone who can calm his fury."

(Name) felt a chill run through her body. They were talking about Poseidon and his need for a wife, her mind began to connect the dots quickly, and a feeling of unease settled in her heart.

— "But who would be worthy of such a role?" — Nereus asked, with a worried tone.

Before the answer came, (Name) heard a whisper from her sisters, who were closer, but still out of sight hiding in some corner. They were talking among themselves, and the word "marriage" reached (Name)'s ears clearly, followed by her own name. She held her breath, her heart racing.

— "It can't be..." — She murmured to herself, backing away slowly, fear forming in her chest.

Without waiting for more, (Name) turned and swam as fast as she could away, the sound of her own heart drowning out any other thoughts. She didn't stop until she found a safe haven, away from the disturbing conversation, but her mind was in turmoil. Poseidon, the god of the seas, was being pressured to marry. And the looks he had given her, the whispered conversations, everything pointed to a single, terrible conclusion.

For days, (Name) tried to avoid thinking about the subject, but the idea that she might be considered for marriage to Poseidon was something she couldn't shake. She felt torn between duty and her own desire for freedom. However, before she could make any decision, her destiny caught up with her.

On a night when the full moon illuminated the waters with a pale glow, (Name) was alone, once again, near a coral reef. The environment, which would normally calm her, now seemed suffocating. She couldn't shake the thoughts of Poseidon, and what it could mean for her future.

Suddenly, the sea around her began to change, the waters, previously calm, began to swirl slowly, creating a growing whirlpool. (Name) felt a fear plant itself in her chest even before she saw the imposing figure of Poseidon emerge from the center of the current, his rigid posture and icy gaze made it clear that he was not there for trivial conversations.

— "(Name)." — His voice echoed like a raging ocean, filling around them, despite being in a calm tone. — "You will be my wife."

The statement was more of an order than a request, and Poseidon's intimidating aura made (Name)'s heart beat even faster. She instinctively backed away, fear taking over her senses.

— "I... can't..." — She shivered, trying to find words that wouldn't come. Poseidon's overwhelming presence made her feel small, insignificant.

Poseidon stepped forward, his face impassive but his eyes betraying the fury contained within him. He wasn't used to being challenged, and the idea that (Name) could refuse his proposal, or rather, his demand, seemed inconceivable to him.

— "You will be my wife." — He repeated, even more firmly, as if his will could bend reality around him.

(Name), in a panic, took one last look at the god of the seas before turning and fleeing. She swam with all her strength, her desperate movements creating a trail of bubbles behind her. Poseidon watched her escape, his eyes narrowing, and the sea around his began to churn violently, reflecting the storm brewing within his soul.

As (Name) disappeared into the darkness of the depths, Poseidon remained behind, his anger growing by the second. The seas began to roar in response.

(Name)’s escape was not just an act of desperation, but a catalyst that threw the ocean into even greater chaos. Her refusal and fear in the face of Poseidon had wounded the god’s pride, and he was not one to be challenged, least of all by someone he believed had a right to claim. While (Name) dove into the darkest depths of the ocean, seeking refuge in the vastness of the sea, Poseidon remained on the reef, his face a mask of coldness as anger bubbled within him.

The currents around the world began to go haywire, the tides became dangerously unpredictable, and the waves swept across lands with a fury that made even the gods fear the worst. In Valhalla, the Council met again, this time under much more serious circumstances.

The great hall was filled with worried murmurs. The gods were restless, aware that Poseidon's destructive power was not something that could be easily contained. Odin, sitting on his throne, watched the unfolding chaos with stern eyes. His ravens, Hugin and Munin, flew around the hall, their caws adding an even more ominous tone to the atmosphere.

— "The seas are out of control!"— Said one of the gods, his voice thick with concern. — "If this continues, there may be a catastrophe that not even we can foresee!"

Zeus, who sat on his throne in the center, remained neutral, but the way his nails scratched hard on the arms of his throne suggested that not even the king of the gods had been able to foresee this. He knew that Poseidon's wrath was as much a force of nature as a reflection of his brother's emotional state. And now, that wrath was being manifested in a way that threatened to become even more dangerous.

— "We cannot ignore this any longer." — Zeus said, his eyes darkening beneath his thick brows as he looked at the other assembled gods. — "We must find a solution, before it is too late."

Hugin landed on Odin's shoulder, his voice rough and full of knowledge.

— "Poseidon will not be appeased until he has what he desires!" — The raven said, his words echoing through the hall.

Munin, flying close behind, added in a somber tone. — "And what he desires, he believes is rightfully his!"

Odin nodded slowly, his thoughts immersed in possibilities and consequences. Poseidon's stubbornness was well known, and it was wise to recognize that forcing the god of the seas to bow to the will of the Council would not only be difficult, but potentially disastrous.

Zeus, on the other hand, was determined to resolve the situation once and for all. He knew there was only one thing that could calm his brother, the presence of (Name) by his side. But finding the Nereid, who had hidden herself in the depths, would be no easy task.

— “I will go and solve this myself.” — Zeus declared, his voice firm. — “If it is the Nereid that Poseidon desires, then we will bring her to him. But this must be done carefully. We cannot risk making the situation any worse.”

The other gods agreed. As the Council dispersed, Zeus’s thoughts were focused on one thing: finding (Name) before the sea became a destructive force beyond any control. He knew where to begin his search, for even the vast ocean could not hide its secrets from a god.

He remembered Doris, the mother of the Nereids, who had a strong bond with (Name) and knew all the secrets of the ocean. Doris was the only one who knew exactly where her daughter was hiding, and Zeus knew he could use that to his advantage.

At the bottom of the ocean, Doris was in her sea cave on the surface, worried about (Name)'s fate and the chaos that was ravaging the seas. She felt the weight of responsibility, knowing that her knowledge could either save or destroy.

It was at that moment that Zeus appeared, his imposing presence filling the narrow space of the cave, his eyes glowed yellow, but there was also a calculating coldness in his gaze.

— "Doris, I need your help." — Zeus said, his voice reverberating through the walls of the cave despite his calm tone.

Doris, although she respected the king of the gods, felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew he had not come here without a dark purpose.

— "What do you wish, Lord Zeus?" — She asked, her voice cautious.

— "You know where (Name) is hiding," — Zeus stated bluntly. — "And we need to bring her back to Poseidon before things get worse."

Doris was silent for a moment, her eyes falling to the ground. She knew that betraying her daughter's trust would mean losing her love forever, but she also knew that denying Zeus could have dire consequences.

— "I cannot force my own daughter into something she does not want..." — Doris finally answered. — "She fears Poseidon, and rightly so."

Zeus, unmoved, stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. — "I do not ask you to force her," — He said, his voice soft but filled with veiled threat. — "I ask you to convince her, to use your motherly love to bring her back willingly. Tell her whatever it takes to make her return."

Doris felt her heart sink, but she knew she had no choice. If she didn't act, the sea would continue to rage, and Poseidon's fury would not be contained, and Zeus didn't seem like the type to take "no" for an answer without terrible punishment.

With a resigned nod, she agreed. Zeus knew he had gotten what he wanted, and disappeared, leaving Doris alone with her thoughts and her difficult mission.

(Name), hidden in a cave at the bottom of the sea, felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. She could feel Poseidon's fury in the waters that surrounded her, and she knew she couldn't hide forever. But fear paralyzed her, the fear of being forced into a fate she had not chosen.

Alone and desperate, (Name) wondered if there was any way to escape her situation. But at the same time, a part of her knew that the sea, with all its vastness and secrets, was Poseidon's domain. And in his domain, no one could hide forever.

It was then that she heard a familiar voice, sweet and comforting, calling her from outside the cave.

— "(Name), it's me, your mother, Doris." — The voice called. — "I need to talk to you, my daughter."

(Name) hesitated for a moment, but then ran to the cave entrance, relieved to see her mother. She threw herself into Doris's arms, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth.

— "Mom, I'm so scared..." — (Name) confessed, her voice breaking. — "Poseidon... I can't go back to him."

Doris held her daughter's face, looking into her eyes with a mixture of love and pain. She knew what she needed to do, but that didn't make the task any easier.

— "I understand your fear, my dear." — Doris began softly. — "But what you don't know is that Poseidon's fury isn't just anger... it's pain. The sea is in chaos, and he needs you by his side to find some kind of peace."

(Name) shook her head, still hesitant. — "But he's going to force me to be his wife." — She whispered. — "I can't live like this."

Doris sighed, trying to hide the pain in her heart.

— "Poseidon promised he won't force you." — She said, lying softly. — "He just wants to talk to you, to understand what you want. If you don't want to stay, he'll let you go, but first, he needs you to restore the balance of the seas. Everthing depends on you, my daughter."

(Name), despite her doubts, began to give in. She wanted to believe her mother's words, in the love Doris had always shown her. If there was a chance to prevent the destruction of the world and restore peace, maybe she should at least try.

— "Okay... Mom." (Name) said reluctantly. — "I'll go with you, but only to talk to him. If he tries to force me, I'll run away again."

Doris smiled, though her heart was heavy. — "I'll be by your side, don't worry. Everything will be fine."

Upon returning to Poseidon's kingdom, (Name) was immediately greeted by the tyrant of the seas. His eyes were filled with a mix of desire and fury, despite his neutral expression.

— "(Name)." — Poseidon said, his voice deep. — "Finally, you've come back to me."

(Name) stood her ground, trying to remember her mother's words. — "I have returned, Poseidon, but only to talk. Do not force me to do anything, or I will leave again."

Poseidon smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes. — "We will talk, my dear."

He promised, but (Name) could feel the weight of his will, the power he exerted over the ocean and over her. As Doris watched, she knew she had thrown her daughter into the clutches of the sea monster, but she also knew there was no other choice. The world was at stake, and sometimes, even a mother's love had to be sacrificed for the greater good.

And so, (Name)'s fate was in Poseidon's hands, and the future of the seas was uncertain as never before.

#ror #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #snv #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv x reader #ror x reader #poseidon #ror poseidon x reader #zeus #x reader #amphitrite

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satinroses · 6 months ago

Text

Oh, I wouldn't say freed... More like, under new management!

Spoilers for 5.3 Natlan Archon Quest!

Yan!Pantalone x GN! Reader (x Yan!Capitano)

Summary: Having clawed his ways from the slums of Liyue Harbour to being seated at the table of a God, seizing opportunities has become Pantalone's second nature and now that the first harbinger is... indefinitely indisposed, what kind of banker would he be if he didn't capitalise on such a unique situation by finally stealing away Capitano's precious consort, the same one that has plaguing his every waking moment since the very moment he first laid eyes upon them?

Warnings: Sensitive themes, Yandere Behaviours, do you have stockholm syndrome or are you going mad from social isolation? your choice!, manipulation, social isolation, anxiety, you're all around not having a good time, mild nsfw implications, fearing for your life (not from Pantalone), losing the will to go on, you literally can't catch a break

3.5K Words

A/N: did i intend for the title to be a Megamind reference...? perchance... also please forgive any inconsistencies or grammatical errors. I have not yet finished the Natlan archon quest but I've seen the spoilers and i hope that fine ass man rests in peace. I'm still high on copium and am praying that because his body is still alive then Dottore can work his magic and fix him somehow someway (if that happens i may even write a part 2 in celebration! Or even if it doesn't!)

Anyone who knew anything about the first harbinger would be well aware of the reverence and tenderness he lavished onto you. Your safety and protection would forever be at the forefront of the harbingers mind, before retrieving the gnosis, or bringing glory to the Tsaritsa or even striking down the heavenly principles. As such it’s not unusual for the harbinger to keep you sequestered away in the dark, lonesome manor you have learnt to call home ever since your marriage. After several years it was now commonplace for Capitano to be gone for days and weeks at a time, hardly breathing a goodbye, just pressing one adoring and gentle kiss to the back of your hand and a second hot, gruff kiss to your lips before storming out of the door, blade sheathed on his belt.

This time he had strayed from the established routine, Capitano had warned you that he might be gone for a bit longer than usual but he would return to your arms within a month. You remembered the silent voice in your head bitterly wishing that he would never return, how the heavenly principles love to play their cosmic jokes.

After a month had passed and the letters from your husband (since you were wed he had made a point of writing you a detailed letter every single day, describing his journey and detailing how dearly he missed you and how everyday away from your side was utter agony) had stopped arriving. You had spent hours pouring over every letter he had sent since his departure but not once did he mention anything that could explain his sudden silence. That was the second thing that unnerved you, if there was one thing you had learnt through your several years of marriage to the first harbinger, it was that his loyalty and devotion was second to none. The idea that your ever loyal hound would stray from his routine was peculiar enough. Once another week had passed without any word from or about Capitano you began to pester the servants and guards for any information from the outside world but they refused to breathe a word to you.

Although you publicly admitted you held much contempt for Capitano for prying you from your home, you couldn’t help the unease that seeped into your bones. You had spent countless mornings watching him train, the brute force and unrestrained power he used to slam his blade down into the frozen ground, the innumerable agents he dispatched with one measured swing of his sword and on rare occasion when you were close enough to danger to personally witness (a scarce occurrence as even leaving the estate was uncommon) how his onyx blade was stained with a viscous crimson inch or that seemed to seep everywhere, even sticking to the fur of his cloak. When he pulled you into his chest after the fighting was done you’ll never forget how sickening the coppery scent was, clinging to the inside of your nose until you felt like you were suffocating on it. That combined with the utter love-sick devotion he had proven himself a slave to, you found the idea that anything could prevent Capitano from writing other than death to be utterly humorous. Somehow despite the hatred you harboured in your heart for the man, the idea of a man of Capitano’s impossibly imposing stature somehow being struck down felt impossible, even if it was the pyro archon herself to do so. You simply refused to entertain such an idea. That night you had come to a conclusion: There has been a mix up! or the messenger was attacked on the road! or maybe Capitano's letters slipped right out of the messengers pack and he simply hasn't realised. You repeated these mantras to yourself compulsively.

But as the weeks continued to amble on by with no word from your husband you couldn’t help but find that a more extreme reason to be the only excuse for his sudden silence.

As you spent days pondering on the possibility of your captor’s passing, the idea that any day now a Fatui official would wander in and give you an official declaration of Capitano’s passing and would send you on your way with perhaps a pouch of Mora for your troubles. The more you fantasised about your freedom being returned to you, the more you realised how unlikely such an occurrence was. That morning you had been nothing short if giddy, any day now you would be free to return to your family and you could pretend these past years were nothing short of a bad dream - by evening your joy had turned to ash in your throat. If your husband (even after several years of calling him that, it still caused your throat to constrict painfully as though the very word was poison) had truly been defeated then you had become nothing to the Fatui but another loose end to tie up. There was no way they could know for sure just how much information regarding the sensitive inner workings of the Fatui that Capitano had shared with you. There was no way they would let you wander free when you were a living, breathing compromise to all their plans. Even in the event of his death, you shall be returned to his arms soon enough. You couldn’t stop an overwhelming feeling of defeat swallow you like a wave as the realisation hit you that nothing would bring Capitano greater joy.

After several weeks of agonising suspense you had debased yourself to pleading with the servants and guards for even just a rumour of what was to become of you. Again, they showed you nothing but cold indifference as they continued their tasks, completely unaffected by your desperate pleas.

Your feet bled from the constant pacing as your mind was utterly consumed with anxiety. The unknown and the terror of what was to come had driven you half mad with unease. All day you wept for how unfairly your life would end, never truly getting to live before your life was stripped from you. All night you didn’t dare get even a wink of sleep for fear one of the guards would slip into your chambers and finally put an end to you. Your mind had endlessly ran through every possibility of escape but it seemed just as impossible as it had before, if not more so. You weren’t sure if the isolation and fear was finally taking complete control but you were almost certain there were more guards surrounding the estate now then there had been prior to Capitano’s departure.

That night you sat on the floor of your chambers, hunched over your bed as you wept into the thick duvet for even a brief illusion of comfort. Your hands were clasped tightly together in prayer, crimson crescents marring your hands with the frantic devotion you called out to your Goddess. Sobbing into the bedsheets you called aloud for the Tsaritsa, beseeching her to take some mercy on her devoted follower and either return Capitano to you safely or offer you a quick and clean death and put an end to this torment for you couldn't bare another day of it.

For the first time in days and after hours of desperate cries for your goddess to extend you some of her benevolence, you slipped into an uneasy slumber, half expecting to wake up to a blade to your throat yet you had lost the will to endure. As the sun rose you were awoken by the distinct noise of the main doors slamming shut as heavy footsteps strode into the Grand Foyer. Breathlessly you rose to your feet, certain that the Tsaritsa had heard your prayed and returned your husband to you. You scrambled as fast as you could down the winding corridors, paying no mind to how your limbs were trembling with adrenaline or the rumpled nightclothes you were still dressed in. As you burst through the door you skidded to a halt on the polished marble floors. Instead of being greeted by Capitano’s open embrace, ready to sweep you into his arms now that you were finally reunited, your eyes instead landed upon the ninth harbinger who now stood just a few feet in front of you, his gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back as he gave you what appeared to be an attempt at a genuine smile.

You froze. In your relief at the possibility of Capitano’s return you hadn’t even registered this as an outcome. You had only met Pantalone perhaps once before, at your wedding a few years prior. That had been the only day Capitano had permitted you to be around any of colleagues. What was already no doubt an uncomfortable event for all involved but the groom had only been exacerbated by the eccentric personalities seated in the audience. You had sobbed the entire way through the ceremony with two Fatui soldiers having to grip onto your arms and practically force you down the aisle. At the very least the 11th harbinger had the decency to look genuinely concerned as you were dragged down the aisle. You had half thought the man might attempt to put a stop to it but when the time came to ask for objections not one person came forward. After the ceremony you could also recall an interaction with the knave. Although the whole day had been a blur, you remembered that she briefly took you aside and sternly forced her handkerchief into your hand, refusing to take no for an answer. You wouldn’t exactly call the woman doting but whatever small sympathy the woman was capable of, it’s clear she had attempted to extend them to you. You had spent many nights after the ceremony thinking back on your interactions with all the harbingers, Pierro and Pulcinella’s cold indifference at the ceremony, Sandrone and Dottore’s impatience to leave as quickly as socially acceptable to return to whatever invention or experiment had currently caught their attention, the varying looks of pity you received from Tartaglia, Arlecchino and La Signora, the quiet smile on Columbina’s face and… the one harbinger you just couldn’t get a read on. Pantalone had turned to watch as you were forced down the aisle and his eyes had not left you once since. Even as the festivities had begun and Capitano had whirled your reluctant form across the crystalline ballroom of Zapolyarny Palace, his eyes didn’t once move from you. Now you were feet away from him and his eyes enclosed around you once more, fixated so wholly on you as though nothing else in the world could or would ever matter even remotely as much as you did in this moment.

Your breath hitched as he sauntered closer, removing his finely crafted leather gloves from his hands. You shut your eyes at once, although you could no longer see him, you could hear the clicks of his shoes echoing through the foyer and getting closer. Once he was but a few inches away from you, you tensed your shoulders to brace for impact but it never came. You couldn’t help but flinch as you felt both his hands clasp firmly down on your shoulders, holding you in place. After several seconds you finally allowed your eyes to flutter open. Pantalone’s eyes bored into yours as he tutted with what was likely an attempt to display sympathy but instead came off as patronising.

”Now now” he breathed out, his hands now began to rub up and down your shoulders in soothing motions “There’s no need to look so frightened” he exhaled, almost sounding amused.

”Where is Capitano?” you asked. You hardly recognised your own voice with how hoarse it had become from the past weeks of weeping.

”Shh shh shh” he muttered, his hands moving from your shoulders, up to your cheeks. He cupped your face affectionately as he spoke in a gentle tone as though afraid the slightest upset might frighten you off. With a deep sigh he began “I’m afraid Capitano is occupied… indefinitely. No matter how dearly I’m sure he would wish to see you, I’m afraid you won’t be reunited for a long time yet.” He paused for a moment, his gaze darting across your face for any idea of your internal workings. His stare was bright and brilliant, even when hidden behind the glasses that sat firmly on the bridge of his nose. He made you feel exposed, as though every second under his stare he stripped away a little more of your walls. He left you feeling bare and cold, you wanted to shrink away from the ninth harbinger. He had told you what you needed to hear and now you wanted to sink back into the depths of the manor and await whatever fate had in store for you, as long as it was far away from him. After another moment of his assessment he seemed satisfied and continued

”It’s with a heavy heart that I bring the news that the mission to acquire the Pyro Archon’s gnosis was not successful” his tone was one of deep sorrow however you could see the tiniest ghost of a smirk dancing across his face as his attempted to maintain composure. “Of course I am delegating as much funding as financially possible to restore your husband however I’m afraid the damage was quite extensive, It’s unlikely that even with the unparalleled scientific minds in the Fatui that we will ever be able to return him to you.”

Once again your heart began to patter against your ribcage. If what Pantalone said was true then you truly were a liability. You cleared your throat and took a deep breath before you spoke, desperate to at least maintain a façade of dignity in the face of such dire circumstances

”Have you come here to kill me then?” You asked him. In response the harbingers eyebrows shot up almost comically, for the first time this morning he looked completely astounded.

”Kill you? Now why ever would I do that?” His hands were still planted firmly on your cheeks, his cool skin soothing on the heat on your cheeks as his thumb tenderly traced the tear tracks that were still emblazoned on your cheeks from your night of sorrowful prayer. He hummed contentedly before continuing, “admittedly there were a few of my colleagues that had suggested to wash our hands of you entirely and slip some arsenic in your food or simply have one of the soldiers stick a blade through your heart” He paused again, assessing you. He could almost feel your breath hitch as he inched slightly closer, his thumb now tracing idle patterns on your cheeks “don’t worry my dear, I shut down such discussions swiftly. I would never wish to have the blood of someone so lovely on my hands. No, that wouldn’t do at all” Now he let a full grin fall across his face. You believe he was attempting to make it comforting but instead it felt predatory, like a lion grinning down at a lamb. “My colleagues and I have thankfully come to a compromise. Although I’m certain you would never run and spill any secrets you may have learnt from your time in such close proximity to Capitano… unfortunately several of my fellow harbingers didn’t feel quite so confident in your loyalty.” One of his hands now reached to brush through your hair gently, his grin grew until he was baring all his teeth at you. Now he didn’t just feel like a lion, he looked like one too “For the foreseeable future you will be taking up residence at my estate. Please don’t fret my lady, I’ll ensure you are well looked after.” His watched you expectantly, as though he believed this to be wonderful news for you. You stared at him blankly. Last night you had prayed to the Tsaritsa for your husband returned home or death but it would appear she had managed to present you with a 3rd, much more terrifying option. Although he may not be quite as physically imposing as Capitano, he somehow made you feel much smaller. Every shared touch and exchanged glance with Pantalone felt intimate and expectant, every brief glance at your lips was a promise of something more to come, every tender caress a precursor for a carnal embrace. Even now he seemed half shocked you hadn’t jumped into his arms in glee at the news you would now be staying with him. Of course you were thankful that he had intervened on your behalf and given you another chance at life but a more animalistic and instinctual part of you as you stood here alone with Pantalone you almost would have preferred being left in this dark, reclusive manor to rot. Capitano took so much from you but he left you your dignity, your sense of personhood, despite his desire to take and take until there was nothing left, he had always strove to be selfless for your sake. With a man like Pantalone, even now with his grip on your face, deceptively light but the muscles in his fingers were tense, ready to clamp down the moment he deemed in necessary. From what little you knew of Pantalone from Capitano’s descriptions, he was the head of the Northland bank and had built himself an immeasurable amount of wealth. Did Pantalone know when you've taken too much from someone? Did he care?

Part of you wished to pry his hands off your cheeks and flat out refuse him, scream out that you want nothing to do with him and flee back to you bed chambers like a child but unfortunately the rational part of you took over, the part of you that was screaming at you to seize this last chance at life he was offering you and so when he extended his hand to you and whispered into your ear in a saccharine tone “Shall we?” You couldn’t help but accept.

Pantalone's POV:

The carriage ride back to his estate wasn't long but he had given his driver instructions to extend it for as long as possible. You seemed bewildered when he sat right by your side, thigh to thigh, instead of sitting across from you. His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulder, constricting you to his side like a serpent. You were sat close enough to his side that he could smell the saccharine smell that emanated from you.

Since the moment he first saw you he had known that there was no one else in the world for him but you. Every single night since he saw you, he couldn't sleep with the extremity of his yearning. It was indescribable agony to know that you were laying in the bed of the First harbinger. Innumerable priceless artefacts and artworks had been destroyed in his rage at the thought of you being by that undeserving wretches' side. Now having you so close after yearning and longing for countless years, it was a high unlike anything else. Feeling your skin against his, you were so close that he could almost feel your warm breath on his skin, it took every scrap of restraint in his body to not begin to ravage you the moment the carriage door shut.

He knew he could never challenge his fellow harbinger publicly, especially not one so revered as Capitano and he knew where his strengths lied. If it came down to a duel then there was a slim chance he would succeed.

However as he matured from a street urchin to the wealthiest man in Snezhnaya, he had learnt that if you cannot beat them at their own game then simply don't play it. It had taken several years of calling in favours, pulling countless strings and funding dozens of failed experiments and dead-end expeditions in order to convince his fellow harbingers that it would be best if Capitano faced the pyro archon alone.

Of course he didn't receive the news of Capitano's supposed immortality well but it doesn't matter that he is still breathing. He may as well be a corpse at this point. He's sure that by passing the funding for a few more of Dottore's experiments then he can convince him to put the matter of restoring Capitano's soul on the back burner.

He had come to terms with how risky this plan was the moment he first set it into place several years ago but he has formed his entire career on a succession of flawlessly executed gambles. His entire life he has been beating the odds and he's not going to stop now that the recently widowed object of his adoration and obsession sits a mere inch away, still draped in nothing but their thin night clothes.

He will admit that perhaps it was cruel to keep you waiting all those weeks, he should have come to collect you the moment the news reached him of Capitano's failure but when he saw the frantic, desperate look in your eyes as you burst into the room, he knew that he had made the right call. You weren't in the position to deny him anything now. He could finally rest easy knowing you were seated right in the palm of his hand, exactly where you belonged.

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