Among The Sun
Description: The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war.
Emperor Miguel and his armies have scoured the land, and now they have set their sights on your kingdom. Will you fall to the Demonborn's blade, or will a strange connection between you and Miguel turn the tides of fate?
Ch 2
The castle is abuzz with gossip and fear, words passed along in secret, gates closed, doors bolted. You press your back to the wall, the heavy curtain hiding you from the servants passing by. No one will tell you anything, simply bid you to dress and make yourself presentable as if there was to be a banquet, or a ball, not a potential siege.
“I’ve heard he’s coming from the West, that he set fire to the River Atraites, that his men—his armies of demons marched upon the flames.” One says, her voice hushed and filled with fear.
“No, he is coming from the East, the mountains bowed to him and allowed him passage through.” Another whispers, stronger but still afraid.
The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. He would be arriving soon if the rumors were to be believed, and you are no fool, you believe them.
You don’t know much about the Conqueror, your only information comes from rumors or war reports, neither of which are helpful. The rumors come from pleasurehouses, fanciful tales of the emperor storming in, scouring the establishment and searching for a woman with y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes. If one cannot be found, he is said to destroy the place, leaving terrifying claw marks and scorched bodies in his wake. If one can be found, the rumors say her cries of pleasure can be heard throughout the town and that she emerges from the encounter with only faint pleasant memories.
The war reports tell a different tale. They speak of him as merciless, tearing through men as if they are parchment, his armies moving as a perfect unit, no breaks, no faults, only skilled, relentless ruin. He is said to have claws and fangs, some say he has horns like a ram, and his eyes glow crimson. He is a terrifying sight to behold, half monster, half man, an abomination that has set half the continent ablaze.
You wait until their footsteps pass then slip from behind the curtain, hurrying down the hall to the throne room where your father, mother, and three brothers are set to gather. Instead, you stumble upon a horrid scene. Your father and brothers lie on the marble floor, bloodied and unmoving, your mother is draped over your eldest brother’s body, wailing wretchedly.
“Traitors to the crown, they have done this.” She shrieks, clinging to his body.
You’re frozen, staring at the carnage before you. True, you had no real fondness for your eldest brother, the gap between your ages was too far to bridge, but the others at least made an effort.
“What—what are we to do? Mother, you are queen, the Conqueror will be here, he will offer you what he offers every other window, you must be prepared.” You tell her, rushing to her side and attempting to pull her from your brother’s body.
She refuses to budge, shrugging you off. “I will not, he will not come here, we have nothing to offer.”
Your kingdom is not small, in fact it’s quite large, a port town, but your mother is right, it holds nothing that the Conqueror doesn’t already have. He has already captured the agricultural kingdoms, the larger trade kingdoms, and those who boast their stores of wealth and gems. His own lands that far-flung empire that declared him ruler after a bloody and horrid event, is rich in resources, the soil, and cities still boasting the remnants of Arcana. It is a wealthy and powerful force, wielded like an obsidian sword by the Conqueror.
“You do not know that, please, either we stay, and you take up your crown, or we flee to the ships.” You’re tugging on her arm, already formulating an escape route. But would you make it in time?
Your mother says nothing, only continues to weep and holds out her hand for her fallen crown. She has made her choice; she will doom you both to die here.
Your kingdom has fallen, the gates forced open, the crowns of your father and brothers thrown to the ground, their bodies lying beside them. There is no time to clean the throne room, you’ve received the reports, the Conqueror is mere minutes away.
The emperor is cruel, monstrous, a vile, wicked man who care only for conquest. You have heard the rumors, the whispers as his armies march across the lands, leaving death and destruction in their wake. And now he would be coming here, to give your mother the very same choice he gave to each former queen. Bend the knee, pay tribute, or watch your kingdom burn. Dozens of kingdoms have refused and burned, but your mother is not a warrior, she weeps over your father and brothers, laments their loss as your kingdom crumbles around you.
When the Conqueror comes, you fear the choice she will make, fear the rumors of the horrors that await those kingdoms gifted to the murderous emperor. You do not wish for your land to become a territory of the ravager, a sacrifice to the blood-soaked demon, Miguel the Conqueror, the Relentless, the Merciless, but you fear your mother will have no choice.
Miguel is bored, his fingers tangled in the hair of another whore as she moans, her face shoved into the pillows as she helplessly tries to fuck back on him. He has her bent over the bed, thrusting mindlessly as he starts out the window at this kingdom’s castle.
She is skilled, he will not deny it, but Miguel doesn’t simply desire skill, he desires the woman from his memories and dreams.
He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes trying to picture you, his soulmate, his horizon, with your soft skin and stunning smile, the lilt of your voice, your tantalizing smell. He groans as the image forms, crystalline fractured fantasies, flashes of you, snatches of memories.
“Fuck, mi vida, you feel so good, wonderful, you are wonderful, my empress.” He sighs, his free hand settling on your—the whore’s hip, steadying himself before he pounds into her, picturing how pretty you’d look, grasping at the silken sheets he’s procured for you, whining as he smooths a hand down your spine.
You’d be so sweet for him, clinging to him as he fucks you, your pretty eyes fluttering closed, your lips parted so perfectly. He misses when he would see you in his dreams, when he would hold you for a moment before you disappeared like sand slipping through his fingers. Now all he sees when he sleeps is darkness, exhaustion hitting him like a horse.
“Please, Your Majesty, harder.” She begs, lifting her head from the mattress.
Her voice rips him from his fantasy, and he pulls out, tucking himself back into his breeches. “I asked you not to speak.”
She looks back at him, and he regrets not compelling her. She looks so much like you, the closest he’s found, but he shouldn’t have taken the chance.
He grabs her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You will remember none of this, only that you did your job and was paid handsomely for it.”
She nods, her shoulders drooping, eyes glazing over as his spell takes hold.
Miguel sighs and arranges her comfortably on the bed before leaving more than enough gold for her rudimentary services.
As he trudges down the stairs of the brothel, he’s met by his advisor, Lyla. She’s still in full armor except for those oddly shaped glasses that cover her eyes.
“It’s time.” She says, nodding towards the door.
Another kingdom to burn or capture, another fruitless search. Have the gods not dammed him enough? Have they not stricken him with this unholy visage, with these demonic powers, with a life of misery and death? You, you are the one he searches for, in your arms he will finally find rest, and if not, he will ensure it is so. There will be no kingdom for you to run to, no lands untouched by him, no bounty great enough to pull you from him, no powers beyond the divine will separate you, and even then, he has always desired to fight the gods.
He will offer this kingdom’s queen the choice he offers all others, waiting as they cower in fear, his eyes searching their court for you. But you are never there, and his anger only grows.
Perhaps this time will be different? Gabi would be fond of this land, would enjoy the flowers and streams. He prays that is a good sign.
TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer
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Catch-22: a dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions.
Even if you knew every word to exist in every language known to man, you would still be certain that there was no better way to describe your relationship with Sam Kiszka.
Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader
Word Count: TBD
Warnings: SMUT 18+ (full list of warnings within each chapter), drinking, smoking, swearing, angst, fluff, sorry if i miss any!
DISCLAIMER: I do not know Greta Van Fleet or any of the members personally. This is all fiction and I will never claim otherwise. I attempt to keep all of my work 100% original, so please do not steal or take credit for my writing. As of right now, I aim to get chapters out on weekends, but it is not guaranteed as I do have a full time job and other responsibilities to attend to. Please be patient and kind to me. Do not mind any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, as I am the sole writer/editor for my blog and do miss things sometimes.
ON HOLD 🤍
part one | teaser
part two | teaser
part three | teaser
part four | teaser
part five
part six | teaser
TAGLIST: if you would like to be added to the Catch-22 taglist, please feel free to send me an ask, pm me, or respond on this or one of the above chapters. if i do not respond, it is because the replies on my posts will only allow me to reply with my main account. i promise i will see it, and if i happen to miss you, don’t be scared to ask again!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: I am incredibly grateful for all of the support, likes, reblogs and kind comments I receive from all of you. I would be nothing without your support, and I do take the time to read and appreciate every reply and message, even if I don’t respond. Thank you so much for all you do, and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this story as much as I do 🫶🏻
all things catch-22:
playlist: spotify | apple music
moodboard:
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I wanted to post something super quickly just so that you all know why I didn't post anything on Saturday.
I am a human being that does not get paid to write on this site or any other for that matter. I write what I feel motivated and inspired for. Sometimes that means that a series that you enjoy isn't quite ready to be posted. Whether that is because I haven't finished it, don't want to post it yet because I'm still editing, or I am excited about something else that I have written- it is my choice. I love you all, and I try to post what you all want to see, but at the end of the day this is my blog. Can I not enjoy writing? If I posted what I felt excited about, then you guys would be getting posts weekly again. It seems that every time I do that though, there are people that private message me "Where is Fake dating" "When will the last part of Fake Dating be posted" "I saw you just posted, but where's Fake Dating" every single time. I love that you all enjoy that series so much. It makes my little heart happy, but sometimes it can feel like a slap in the face- like the thing I just posted wasn't worth your time.
Someone said something on Saturday that rubbed me the wrong way, and made me feel as though no one cares what I write as long as it isn't for this one particular series. "Fake Dating" is fun to read, I totally get it. It's a lot of people's favorites, and I'm so glad you all enjoy it to this degree. Notes wise, however, it isn't my most popular work. The last update, despite being pinned to my page, has less than four hundred notes.
I'm trying to reach new people on this platform, and I'm also trying to get interaction back up to the level that it once was. The hiatus that I took (which is completely my fault) has made my blog plummet in popularity, which is damaging to me since I spend so long on my fics. It's not just hours, but days of work. I write the first draft, do a read through so that I can add/remove certain things that don't flow well, edit it, and then read through it again. This is the reason why it takes so long for me to post a fic.
I was unbelievably excited to share something that I had written, which has been my favorite thing to date. I adore all of you. I adore writing. I adore Elvis and Austin, and I can't wait to broaden the range of this blog and start writing for other people and characters. Fake Dating will be completed shortly, but please allow me to post some things that were on my WIPs in the meantime. I have not and will not post anything that I'm not proud of, so when I post please give it a chance. Who knows, you guys might like this series even more than you do Fake Dating.
Chapter One of my new series will be posted this Friday at 5:30 est.
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