gothicblaze

[gothicblaze]

I know I disappeared for a while but uhhh I’m working on midnight dw guys! But in the meanwhile I wanted to share this picture I drew!

[gothicblaze]

Midnight a Silco x Reader fanfiction

Chapter 1 

Big news

A/N: Okay so this chapter doesn't really have any Silco.. But I promise it'll get there! Also feel free to point out any spelling mistakes i made english is not my first language but ill do my best to fix it!

Rating: Safe for most

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Silco x Reader (not yet though), Vander x Reader (just for a bit!), Possible hints to abuse, Misongony(?)

You walk through the halls of the manor, your heart thumping in your chest as you navigate the long hallways and staircases. You had only just arrived home from your lady-in-waiting duties, having spent the day with Princess Caitlyn Kiramann, helping her plan the upcoming winter ball. Despite you being of a lower class the two of you shared a close bond, something you'd almost call a friendship. The second you arrived back home and entered the manor, a servant had come to tell you that your father wished for you to come to his study. If you were completely honest this scared you, the only times you had been there had been when you got the news of your mothers death and when you were punished, unlike your brothers who were allowed in there whenever they pleased. Something about that made you upset, but you understood your place in the house. They were all supposed to know how to take over your fathers duties should something happen to him, you however were not expected, nor allowed, to do such things. Your duties were with the princess and in the future, with your husband. 

As you reach the large mahogany wood door you take a moment to gather yourself, glancing into the large mirror opposite of the door making sure you looked presentable. It was a cold day and such could be seen by your dress, the fine fabric thicker than most of your other dresses, thankfully a maid had taken your cape before you hurried through the manor. Your face was flushed, the fact you came from outside making itself known. Taking a moment to catch your breath you decide you look alright, not that there was much you could do to look more presentable either way. So you knock. You knock three times, something your father had taught you to do so he knew it was you. As a little girl you hadn't understood why you had to knock in a special way but your brothers didn't, but now you know. 

"Enter."

A deep, cold, voice came from the other side of the large door, undeniably your fathers voice. you take a deep breath before you enter the room. Nothing has changed since the last time you were here. The walls were lined with tall mahogany bookshelves filled with books your family had acquired over the years. in the middle of the room stood your fathers mahogany desk, where he sat like he owned the world. The desk was filled with papers and open books, an organised mess. 

“You asked for me, father?”

You speak softly, knowing about his annoyance when you talk ‘like a man’ as he says. He looks up from the papers, his gaze resting on your face. He seems almost sad in a way, something that unnerves you even more. 

“A letter from the place arrived today.”

He said with a monotone voice, leaving the coming words unimaginable. But a letter from the place? This could be either really bad, or really good.

“Piltover is splitting from Zaun next month, out of fear of revolution from the lower class in Zaun. Therefore Zaun shall have a new king, and the palace is asking for your hand in marriage for him.”

Your father looked you in the eyes for the first time that day. He was not a kind man, nor a compassionate one, not by a long shot. But still when your own wide eyes stare back into his you find some sort of sadness. You, no, everyone at the manor knew this day would come, you were a woman in her mid twenties, you were approaching an age where people would start to believe you were barren. Marriage has always been your fate, such is the fate of any noble woman, no, any woman. But still, you had expected to marry some old duke, not a soon to be king. That would make you a queen, a title far above your current one. 

“W-what is his name father..”

You ask hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer. There were many bad men in Zaun. Men who you would not wish upon your worst enemy to marry. Zaun in itself was not something you would wish on your worst enemy. Zaun was mostly occupied by the lower class of Piltover, most people had little to no money, and those who had money had most of what the undercity, as many called it, had to offer. For centuries Zaun had been a part of Piltover, a part that most people ignored. Zaun was a dirty and poor land mass, with bad water and even worse air. The only thing it was good for was oil and the mines. Most of its citizens were miners too, the massive mines needing workers who were willing to die trying to make a living. You had always despised the idea of Zaun, a place where people lived with less than human conditions, a place where people died due to how bad the air was, a place where you had nothing. You had always been taught not to think about Zaun. You were a lady of fine status, it was not of your concern what happened down there. But now it was. 

You would be their king's wife, their queen. And you knew nothing about the land, the people or the culture. Your father looked away from you again, his cold, stoic facade taking over again.

“I do not know him very well, but his name is Vander. He has apparently been a rather large part of the revolution. The king and queen trusts him to be a good ruler and to not cause further problems for Piltover.”

Of course that's what would be important to the king and queen. A docile Zaunite. Someone still willing to be loyal to them, someone they can control. As kind as the king and queen can be, they are still the richest and most powerful people in the country, willing to do anything to protect themselves and their power. Your father returns his attention to the papers in front of him.

“You will be leaving friday.”

He stated flatly, a hand making its way into his neatly styled hair. You knew it was final, it was a request of the king and queen, a way of winning their favour. Not to mention finally marrying you off. You were certain they would pay him handsomely for your hand. So instead of yelling and resisting like you might have done merely a year ago, you do nothing but nod politely. It would not help you to fight, only make your father angry, something you do not want.

“I understand father.. I shall go start packing my things..” 

You curtsey before taking your leave, closing the heavy doors behind you. Tears swell in your eyes as you stand in the hallway, but you force them away, not wanting to cry out in the open. You make your way through the long halls making your way to your room, pushing away the swirl of emotions inside of you. "Why me?” you can't help but think as you reach your room, locking the door behind you. “how am i the best candidate?”  you throw yourself on the bed, the soft sheets and mattress enveloping you. “Out of any suitable maiden, why me? I am not young or submissive, no noble would want me” you let the tears flow freely now, in the safety of your room. You knew that one day you would have to get married. One way or another, but never had you even thought of this. Perhaps it was simply to get rid of the maiden no man ever tried to court. Yes. That made sense, the king and queen knew of your reputation as quite the trouble maker, always the one to scare her suitors off. They had no use of you unmarried, and since no other man wanted you, you were used as a bargaining chip. No matter now. You had two days to pack the things you wished to bring with you, and to say farewells to all of your friends.

The days had been a blur, packing, farewells and lots of lots of tears. You still didn't feel ready to leave, but Friday had arrived and you had no say in the matter. Your father and all of your brothers stood outside, your father as cold and stoic as always, yet a hint of sadness was buried deep in his eyes. Your brothers didn't bother hiding their sadness, the youngest of them, crying openly despite your fathers scolding. You knew he wouldn't punish your brother, this was hard for all of them.

The coachman nodded to your father who took a step forward, his hand held out to help you into the carriage. You had been told they would come to the wedding, but you weren't sure if that was true. You weren't sure of anything. 

“I suppose this is the last time we shall see you for a while.”

His gaze is not on you as he addresses you, he's too stoic to let you see he's hurt. He closes the door to the carriage when you're inside, finally looking at you.

“Don't do anything stupid.” 

He tells you before taking a step back, gesturing to the coachmen to begin driving, then he turns around going back to the manor. The carriage begins to move, and you look out the window as the manor and your family fades into the distance, your brothers waving, your father nowhere to be seen. 

You sink into your seat with a sigh. The dress you had been forced into was close to the most uncomfortable thing you had ever worn. It was an intricate deep blue gown, the colour of Piltover. golden details sewn on. You felt like some kind of doll, though on second thought you kind of were. You look out at the scenery, a swirl of emotions inside of you. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, the journey was still long. No use in winding yourself up now. You pull out a book, a small piece of paper and a pencil from the small bag you had packed with things for the journey. You were going to a completely unknown area with different traditions, not to mention getting married to a man you knew nothing about. The last thing you wished to do was anger someone. So you had brought both a dictionary to try and learn some of the language, and a book on their culture, hoping to learn enough to not make a horrible first appearance. You knew they disliked people from Piltover, and the last thing you wanted was to be like those they disliked. As you read you can't help but think of what type of man your husband to be is, the king and queen trusts him somewhat, so you're not too worried, but he could still be an abusive ass behind closed doors. Or perhaps he was a kind person. You had no clue what he looked like either, was he handsome? Or did he look like a beast? You put all of your attention on your books, trying to push away any negative thoughts of what was to come, knowing it was up to fate.

All you could do now was pray for good luck.

It was late into the evening when you arrived at a small manor near the border, it looked to be on the newer side, as if it was built for the occasion. It probably was all things considered. As you step out of the carriage, trying your best not to step on the dress, you stare at the large parade of guards. You're surprised at just how many there are, you thought this entire thing was under wraps until next week. You push those thoughts back, You're sure everything is going according to plan. A man dressed in a deep blue uniform steps forward and takes your hand, kissing the glove covering it. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I am Vander”

He shoots you a warm smile that makes something in your chest feel both lighter and heavier at the same time. This was your soon to be husband? Well he certainly was not a beast, and he did not seem like a bad man, but only time would tell that. You smile gently back, wanting to make a good first impression.

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well your highness”

You knew he did not yet bear the title of king, but he would soon, and you would rather make a habit of using his correct title. He lets out a hearty laugh, closing the carriage door behind you, letting it drive off. He takes your arm and leads you toward the manor, all of the guards keeping an eye on the two of you. 

“Please just call me vander, i am not yet king and even if i was you wouldn't need to call me by titles, not when we are getting married so soon.” 

A couple of guards follow behind the two of you, you don't know if it's to protect you or vander, but you assume him. You were replaceable, he was not. As vander helps you navigate the new environment, the halls decorated beautifully, but not as intricate as your fathers home, he leads you to a nice warm parlour where tea and cakes have been brought out, all things you recognise. All things from Piltover. You don't doubt this was done specifically for you. 

“Please sit, we have much to talk about”

He guided you to one of the seats, sitting down on the one opposite to you afterwards. You take one of the cups on the table, taking a small sip. And as you sit there, you already know this will take a while.

Thank you for reading!