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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

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Madness

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Blaeja

Summary: “I was wondering if I could request an imagine where the reader is a princess and Ivar travels to England with his brothers & thinks the princess is beautiful but he gets teased by Sigurd and his brothers but she can understand their language and decides to flirt with him in front of everyone?”

So I made her Kwenthrith’s daughter because why the fuck not, and Blaeja (Aelle’s daughter) is on this cause again, why the fuck not. Also the Reader might be a tad insane, but at this rate all my Reader characters are idk what to tell u

Word Count: 4.7k (I’m sorry lol)

Warnings: Mentions of rape and child abuse, mentions and allusions to violence and death, my horrible writing

A/N: Idk how I feel about this, I hope I don’t dissapoint the anon that requested it lol. Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading, and ily! <3

Also, I kinda went a lil overboard :/

The handmaid is fixing the coronet over your head when you hear the doors to your rooms open, so she turns to demand propriety from whoever entered unannounced, but seeing Aelle’s daughter with a devilish smile on her lips stops her on her tracks.

“Your Grace.” The woman bows gracefully, and steps back, letting Blaeja take her place.

“Are you ready?” The girl whispers to you, adept hand working at the tresses of your hair to make sure it is carefully hidden under your veil that showcases the delicate circlet on your head.

“You are the one that will be sent off to be married, my friend,” You remind her, chuckling, “To one of those…”

“Lord Sigurd is not that bad,” She interrupts, what for a second sounds like girlish infatuation on her tone. You are opening your mouth to quip on how she refers to one of those brutes as a ‘Lord’ but she clears her throat, and continues, “He played some music for me, the other day.”

“You have nothing to fear then,” You mock with a roll of your eyes, “Maybe he also played music for your father before they executed him, made all of it a much more lovely affair.”

Blaeja tugs at your hair in warning, and you steal a glance at the handmaid that looks carefully at the floor. As if she needed eyes to hear you, as if you didn’t know how she’ll gossip about this with the others.

“Careful, or I’ll ask that you come with me,” She laughs, “I’ll have you sold for two gold coins.”

“You are talking to the heiress to a broken and war-torn kingdom, Lady Blaeja, you better remember that!” You tell her in jest, and she laughs, with that laugh you two share, that laugh born out of despair and loss and uncertainty.

“How could I? Judith never lets me forget what a might Mercia continues to be.” She replies with no little disdain in her tone. After a breath of hesitation, she orders with curt words for the servants to leave you two alone, and once the doors close, the Princess of Northumbria kneels in front of you where you sit, grabbing your hands tightly on her own.

“You are scaring me.”

“There’s no reason to fear,” She tells you even as tears fill her eyes. With a tremulous smile, she whispers, “I heard my sister talking with her husband, about you.”

“Me?”

“Alfred would benefit greatly from having a Mercian Princess as wife,” She states, and though she smiles you feel only cold settling over your heart, dread. “With your mother dead…”

“Dead when King Ecbert, blessed be his memory, took control over Mercia, Blaeja! They already own my kingdom.” You remind her lowly, leaning down so your faces are closer to each other, but this doesn’t dim her smile.

Your heart aches at the reminder of your mother, for her, in all her sins and her scars, was the only family you ever had. The only protection you had, in that palace filled with monsters.

If you think about it, if you sit surrounded by all your sins and your mistakes and your faults and think about it, you know it was the sight of her shaking hands as she looked at them expecting to see blood and told you of the death of her brother that made you stop having faith in your God.

It wasn’t the death of a would-be king at the hands of his sister what made you realize the bishops and priests and deacons and saints were all full of lies, no. It was the emptiness in her gaze as she spoke of walking out of that room a Queen and realizing it wasn’t enough to make up for the pain he -the last remaining alive in the long line of monsters that made up your family- caused her.

It was the hoarse voice of the proud and ruthless Queen of Mercia telling you of the barbarity that took place right under her father’s willfully ignorant gaze, it was the shaking hands that clasped your own and begged for forgiveness that she didn’t need to ask for, it was the severed heads brought in by the Vikings that weren’t enough to heal her, it was the realization God, if he was ever there, looked away most of her life.

You shake those thoughts off, and focus on the Princess before you that smiles in a mix of joy for your fate and bitterness for hers.

With shaky breaths, you insist, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“They would have Mercian blood on their lineage, it would strengthen their claim.” She states, and the disgust it fills you with makes you feel shame. You should be ecstatic at the chance of becoming Queen, at the prospect giving Wessex strong sons to prepare for ruling and beautiful daughters to…to exchange like broodmares, like Blaeja, given to a Viking of all men, breakable daughters to fail to protect, like Kwenthrith, raped by her own brother and uncle.

You remember your mother’s pain. You remember her whispers about the court being filled with snakes, you remember her stories about the women with swords and loud voices.

And you remember King Ecbert’s lessons. You remember his tales about the land where his Ragnar Lothbrok came from, you remember his bitterness at the strange land that captured the heart of a man of God such as Athelstan.

You meet her brown eyes, and force a smile on your lips, because may the earth part underneath your feet and drag you down, you will not wed Alfred.

____

They introduce you to the sons of Ragnar, and you will admit, Blaeja looks positively smitten by the easy smile the blond man gives her in greeting. Lovely.

Judith makes a point of having you be sitting next to Alfred who, blessed be his soul, attempts to strike conversation with you only to be stopped by his own shyness.

You still offer him a few courteous smiles, and thank his kindness when he offers it so. When the Vikings talk amongst each other, mostly about the strange food and customs, you notice the King looks at you to gauge your expression, as if he knows you also know their tongue.

You worry about how much King Ecbert shared with him for a moment, but say nothing.

“So, the one that walked in with your bride,” One of the sons of Ragnar starts, and though you decide to pay attention you keep your gaze on your food and the entertainment going on around you, offering one of the performers a small smile. “Who is she?”

“Princess of Mercia, I think. The crazy queen father fought for with Uncle Rollo and the others, that’s her daughter.” A man with hair that you thought first was short but realized later falls down his back in a thick braid, his blond beard unkept, but his eyes those of an experienced man as they look over the room.

“Let’s hope beauty is not all she shares with that crazy bitch, huh? I would love to fuck a Saxon princess again.” Mocks a man you weren’t introduced to, so not a son of Ragnar, with ink on his face and long dark hair.

You realize too late you have lifted your gaze and set your eyes on him, what is sure to be affront and embarrassment showing on your face.

You lower your eyes again to the table before you, clenching your hands into fists on your lap, but you feel like someone is looking at you, and from the other end of the table, when you peek carefully, you catch the eyes of the one they introduced but whose name you can’t remember, the one with short dark hair, the one whose legs seem to be broken.

He looks at you with a silver of surprise, but there’s something else there. Regardless, you know he knows, and it makes fear settle on your stomach like acid. You wonder if this is what Burgred felt when he was poisoned.

“You’ve been staring at her all night, Ivar,” Blaeja’s betrothed starts, voice sickly mocking. “Are you hoping she’ll look back? Take your cripple ass to her bed?”

“Sigurd…” One of the elder brothers grumbles, clearly tired of it all.

“I’m just saying, he’d have more luck forcing a thrall to touch him than hoping a free woman will.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, brother? Fucking your slave so she can’t even say no.”

“Who out of the two of us will bed a princess, hmm? It surely isn’t the cripple that can’t even please a slave right, is it?”

You and Alfred exchange a look, no longer pretending either of you don’t understand, as the youngest, Ivar, snarls some threat at his brother, voice and temper rising alike.

Refusing to be spoken of like some sort of cunt with a crown, you speak up, though your gaze remains on your plate.

“Princess Blaeja asks you to play that awful lute to keep your paws off her, so I fear that arrogance is unfounded, my Prince.”

Alfred chokes on his drink as he tries covering a startled laugh with a cough, and you feel wide eyes from the end of the table where the Vikings seat settle on you.

“What did you say?” One of the men asks slowly, and with the madness your mother left you with, you lift your gaze and meet the eyes of the man you recognize as Bjorn Ironside.

“My mother wasn’t crazy,” Is all you reply with gritted teeth, before turning to the blonde that Blaeja is to marry. You don’t know what it is that makes you open your mouth again, but you do, “And I was indeed looking at your brother. I feel for you deeply, my Prince, if you can’t recognize want in a woman’s gaze.”

Alfred clears his throat, what you could swear is a smile -the youthful smile of a boy witnessing chaos- shyly settling on his lips, and stands up to propose a toast and dissipate the atmosphere.

“With this being one of the last nights our dear Blaeja, daughter of the late King Aelle, blessed be his soul, spends with us, I-…”

You don’t listen anymore, taking a sip from your wine and catching over the rim of your goblet the eyes of the youngest son of Ragnar -Ivar, you remind yourself- on you, studying you with a mix of mistrust and curiosity.

You keep your gaze on his, and as you lower your cup from your lips, you offer a smile. His own lips tremble in what was sure to be an instinctual reply with a smile of his own, before he schools his features.

Regardless, he takes his eyes off yours and in his whole posture embarrassment is written. Managing to fluster a Viking of all men fills you with a thrill, a heat, like no other.

The men toast and you gesture your goodbyes as the dinner is dispersed. Before you can make it out the door, Blaeja stops you with a hand on your arm.

“What did y-…do you speak their tongue?”

“I do. King Ecbert taught me a lot before he died,” You state, before frowning in confusion and thoughtfulness, “Before he died at the hands of these men…Blaeja, my friend, don’t you ever stop and think about how strange it all has become?”

Blaeja only narrows her eyes with a growing exasperated smile on her lips.

“I care about what you said to my future husband.”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” You pat her cheek in friendly jest, making her roll her eyes. After a moment of consideration, you tell her, “Though he may not play his lute as often anymore, I fear.”

____

You wait impatiently by the window to your room, wondering over and over if this is the wrong choice, if you are making the worst mistake possible, if you are walking into the wolf’s den.

Before you can think yourself out of this, Blaeja, with her head covered by a dark cloak, makes her way into your room.

“I didn’t think your betrothed would agree.” Is all you state, dryly, as she motions for you to get your own cloak.

“Oh, I can assure you Prince Sigurd despises you, but luckily, he seems to adore me. Go, and don’t make me regret this.”

With a light laugh you kiss her cheek and dart out of the room, ready to follow the familiar path to where you asked Prince Sigurd to arrange a meeting between his brother and you.

“So it is you.” He says, dragging himself up a couch in front of yours. You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling, and try to remember all the logic, all the strategy, you’ve put behind this stupid plan of yours.

“I told them to let you know.” You reply curtly, but the Prince shrugs.

“Sigurd could be mocking me. Make the cripple think he is meeting with the Princess?” He shrugs, but it is not nonchalant in the slightest. In all of his fame and vitriol, you notice, now only remains a man uncertain, unmoored, braced for rejection or mocking like you’ve scarcely seen before. The knowledge that you, or the combination of you and his older brother, seem to be a vulnerable point for him is a knowledge you don’t truly know what to do with. You say nothing in response, and with a movement of his head, after settling in his seat, he insists, “Why did you want to meet with me?”

“You norsemen have a reputation,” You start carefully, plucking at a lose string on the sleeve of your dress. “And the crown needs the allegiance Blaeja’s marriage with your brother gives them, so no mat-…”

“I don’t like your roundabout ways,” He states brusquely, and it stops you on your tracks, your eyes wide and lips parted as you stare at the Prince. He gestures with one hand, a frown starting to mar his face, “Just say what you want, Princess.”

“I want you to take me with you back to wherever it is you come from. I want them to believe I’ve been stolen.”

The Prince looks at you like you have grown a second head, and to be quite frank, once the words have left your lips you realize you might as well have. This is foolish, and dangerous, and...crazy.

That’s what they called your mother, not only these norsemen but all of them. Because she admitted what many didn’t dare to: that if she had been born with a cock they all would have bowed and given her the crown she deserved, that the earth would have been easier to walk on.

You refuse to think madness is a bad trait.

You don’t have to ponder whether the Viking will see it as such, for you notice you have piqued his interest, you notice the curiosity at the madness in your request.

“Are you sure you aren’t the mad Mercian princess?”

You offer a humorless laugh at his taunt, and retort, “I don’t want to be here anymore. And…I can prove useful to you.”

“If you say a wife…”

You don’t let him finish, leaning closer and whispering,

“They want me to marry Alfred.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“His grandfather took Mercia from me, I will not be used as a broodmare so they can hold on tighter to my kingdom.”

The Viking starts to smile, wild and yet calculating, the ruthless and intelligent man his fame says he is.

“But you don’t want revenge.”

“They can fight for the scraps of what once was a mighty kingdom for the rest of time for all I care,” You offer honestly, “I do not want to be caught up in between. I will have to give him children if I marry him, and I refuse to let a child of mine suffer like my mother did, like Blaeja did.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, and his tone grows cruel, mocking, like the cat that plays with the poor mouse before eating it, when he insists, “I could make you a slave, sell you. If you annoy me, I could torture you. If you betray me, I would kill you.”

“I told you I was of use to you, though,” You insist past the fear that makes your hands tremble, “I will not be of use in pieces. You and Alfred played chess before, haven’t you?”

He loosens his posture, his expression is no longer so guarded and venomous as he asks, “And what is this use?”

“I’m a pawn they want to make Queen,” You state, and the Viking starts to smile. You knew he was smart; you knew he was aware of how he could take advantage of ‘taking’ you as a prisoner for his own gain. You have a feeling he wanted to know if you were aware of how your position could be played. Like chess, you ponder. “Surely you could ask for a lot in exchange for my safe return home.”

He considers your words in silence for a few moments, eyes travelling between yours as if trying to read your response to the words he has not yet uttered.

“And if I don’t want to return you to your home?”

You shrug, “Then they’ll have a rallying call for their war against your people, and I will be free from these…these nobles and their fucking priests.”

The Viking breathes a laugh, surprised and a little enthralled it seems, but you find yourself smiling back.

You keep careful eyes on the moon that travels the skies, watchful over the time that you will have to return to your rooms before anyone notices your absence. But in the meantime, you enjoy with easy smiles and a light heart the company of the Viking, surprisingly enough.

____

And the few extra days Blaeja can buy you do almost nothing for the plans of your escape -a part of you is certain the Viking has a plan he won’t share with you- but it does let you get to know the man you are asking to kidnap you. A giant brute like the others, that’s for certain, but he is smart, and cunning, and his dry humor never fails to make you laugh.

You find yourself intrigued, captivated, much more so than you could have thought when you made the choice to speak out against his brother during that first dinner. It is no secret to you he is no longer a pawn in the game you decided to play, but you cannot help but think you still are merely a pawn to him.

One of the nights you meet under the guard of the moon, he starts, “I cannot take you from this city, not without an army.”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise, “And you have thought of a way around that.”

“Haven’t you?” You reply with a small smile, knowing he has.

“If you could go closer to York…”

“Or you closer to Tamworth.”

“We’d have no way to leave by sea. I can’t exactly walk through the wilderness with you, Princess, as you can see.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips, but eventually acquiesce with a nod.

You sigh, “Then I don’t know, Ivar.”

You notice it is the first time you have said his name instead of his title, and you raise startled and apologetic eyes to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though you notice his gaze lingering on you for a few moments longer than it should.

It gives your still young and innocent heart a shock of hope that you feel all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“One way or another, I will steal you, Princess,” He insistes, and you only lift an eyebrow in response. He crosses his arms, “I promise.”

____

“They leave tonight.” Blaeja starts from her place sitting at your side on the garden bench. You turn to her.

“You leave tonight,” You remind her, “Aren’t you forgetting your lovely husband to be?”

But she shakes her head, “Prince Sigurd and I will marry if he returns,” Her voice wavers, and you realize with a mix of dread and joy she has learned to care for the Viking. She straightens her back and continues, “When he returns from the battle they depart today to prepare for.”

“Against Alfred?”

“Against the woman that murdered their mother. He says they are to take back their Kingdom from her.”

“Your Prince trusts you with all of these things.”

“His brother tells you things too.” She states without hesitation, and you look at her but stay silent, not denying Ivar has told you of Queen Aslaug and her murder already. Many things actually, just as you have told him many things too.

“So it will be a while before you see him again, if ever.” You muse, not only talking about her. It would be foolish to feel pain, loss, fear; you tell yourself. It doesn’t stop the prick of tears on your eyes, or the pit of pain on your chest.

“I will depart to Bamburgh in three days to await word of the outcome of the battle.”

You lay your head on her shoulder, releasing a shaky breath, “I’ll miss you.”

_____

Judith hounds you like a dog and it is starting to get on your nerves. You feel you are being judged and considered carefully for the role of Alfred’s wife, a role you do not want to be in and, if you were to ask him, you don’t think he’d want you in either.

The talks start of having a royal wedding soon after Blaeja weds the Viking Prince, who seems to have survived the battle for Kattegat. You tried asking around, bribing a servant or two, to figure out the fate of Prince Ivar, but you are too close to bearing the crown for them to feel comfortable trading secrets with you, it seems.

You catch sight of Alfred’s eyes on you during a dinner one night, and he offers what you swear is a soothing smile even if his warm eyes shine with regret.

Judith grabs onto her son’s arm and a tired-looking Aethelwulf stands up from his throne, calling for the attention of the clergy and nobles alike.

They announce you as Alfred’s betrothed after a few words you don’t bother with listening to.

As a gift for his bride to be, Alfred arranges for a few soldiers to escort you to Bamburgh, apparently at the request of Princess Blaeja that you accompany her on her wedding day. And barely with time to pack, almost three months after you last saw her, you are in a carriage on your way to the North.

____

She looks radiant, that’s the first thing you notice when you see her awaiting for you by the gates to the royal home. Bright smile and even brighter eyes, rosy cheeks and excitement and joy written all over her posture.

It gladdens you, to know she will be wed to a man she can care for, a man that can care for her. That maybe, just maybe, like in those tales your mother used to mock, there’s love to be felt before the Lord is to bind them together.

And once the ships arrive you will not lie and pretend you don’t feel disappointment, maybe grief, at the absence of the vitriolic yet captivating prince you met what seems so long ago.

You heard them talking about a son of Ragnar becoming King of Kattegat, and you have no doubts as to who bears the crown now. In another world, you may have left, he may have earned a kingdom in what used to be Mercia or Northumbria in exchange for the safe return to Wessex you’d never make.

But you will not let it stop you from finding a way out of this arrangement, of this…this marriage.

The possibility of asking Blaeja to claim you as a permanent resident of her land is there, of course, but you don’t think she has enough leverage against the crown itself to be able to keep you more than a few months. You could simply run away, but you are not stupid, you know you’d die or be found before you can spend a moon in the wilderness.

Still, you are a smart woman, you tell yourself, you will find a way out.

While the dinner -feast, they call it- in celebration for the wedding takes place, a man you recognize as one of the eldest sons of Ragnar approaches you while you sit alone.

You cannot help the pang of fear that runs through you at the sight of one of those giants looming over you, but you still offer what you hope is a courteous smile.

“You have to come with me.” He tells you, and you frown.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Follow me.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, turning his back to you and slithering effortlessly between the dancing and feasting guests. After a moment of consideration, with a small smile on your face as if it were a thrillingly dangerous game of hide and seek, you chase after the Viking.

He leads you all the way down to the docks, and since the moon is high up in the skies, the streets are almost deserted and you are left forced to guide yourself in the darkness or thanks to the rare and dim light of a faraway lantern.

You still push on, your heart beating on your ears and fear and thrill bubbling under your skin.

“This is where I leave you, Princess,” The son of Ragnar says, stopping abruptly and turning to you. You frown, but he doesn’t step closer so you have nothing to fear. “We will see each other again.”

The man with the blondish and long hair gestures a mock of a formal goodbye, and walks confidently back to the royal home where the party -feast- is still taking place.

You are left dumbfounded and alone in the darkness, and instinct makes you want to chase after him and demand answers.

“Following a strange Viking into the darkness,” A familiar voice starts from behind you, stopping you on your tracks, “No wonder people say you are as crazy as your mother, Princess.”

You turn around with a frown and raised chin, ready to retort, “My mother was not c-…”

But you realize halfway as the words leave your lips whose voice it is, to whom the familiar pale blue eyes belong to.

Ivar stands now, and his hair seems longer and braided in some strange style, even his armor looks different. It seems like years have passed even though it has scarcely been half a year yet.

“You’re alive.” You whisper, and the Viking frowns, affronted.

“Of course I am,” He replies arrogantly, and you cannot keep the smile from your lips. He extends a hand, “And I’ve come to…steal you, was it?”

You don’t answer, even if a part of you is thrilled at him remember that first conversation. You only look at him with wide eyes.

“You’re a king now.”

“Hmm, and I was offered a queen, was I not?”

It startles you back to reality, back to your senses, and you notice the three ships with dim lanterns and silent warriors docked at the sides of the dragon-headed ship Ivar -King Ivar now, you suppose- stands in.

“That’s…not what I meant.” You say, but still your hand grasps at the skirts of your dress to lift it up, and you walk closer.

“Have you decided to stay with them?” And the sudden steel underneath his words, a promise of what you could be at the other end of if he is to believe you’ve fooled him, or gone back on your word, makes a thrill of fear go down your back.

“No, but…”

“Usually stealing a bride doesn’t involve this much talking, Princess.” He interrupts, and extends a hand, and you look at it with wide eyes.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“I-…” You look into his eyes, pale blue eyes that you saw more than once when you closed your own in these past months, and a breathy laugh leaves your lips, “This is madness.”

Ivar says nothing, but his hand is still stretched between you. You take it, and jump into the ship.

___

So, that was it :/ I have a feeling it’s pretty boring but I’ll hope that’s cause I wrote it lol

Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think, and if you wanna rquest anything go right ahead, I promise to try my best lol

Thank you, I hoped you enjoyed <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine

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queen-of-the-boos · 2 years

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If you haven't seen already I found your creepypasta Queenie and

I love it so much but poor sweet little boo Queen I'm going to kill whoever hurt her this badly. They're getting these mad scientist hands Also it reminded me of that one Luigi's Mansion hoax/creepypasta thing?? The one where he's all sad and holding a flower, I believe because he died and roams the halls calling out to his brother, who he failed to save. Maybe they'd bond gjsbdkan)

THANK YOU I GOT FEELS FROM A SONG AND ALL THIS CAME INTO MY HEAD LMAO

PAIN.

Since you told me your Lore for yours, I'll give you a lil abt mine,,

Tw for sad stuff. Depressing things. Fire ment and death ment.

So like. Same story as the post I reblogged.

Except I didn't go into detail about a few things like what happens when someone tries to go see her...

I've said you can feel a crushing hopelessness as you get closer to the tower she imprisoned herself in, but should you actually manage to make it all the way up there, never ever look her in the eyes.

One look will send the intense despair she feels straight into your heart, and you'll either go mad, or your heart will shatter.

She knows she has that effect on people because the very person who cause her grief decided to go up and see her. Try to talk to her. Get her on his side.

The one who imprisoned her family

The one who set fire to their paintings.

Some say you can still hear his screams on nights of a full moon.

She shut herself away as punishment for not being able to save her loved ones, and doesn't want to fail anyone else. She thinks herself unfit to have any sort of life. Undeserving.

Regarding Luigi. She would probably be very. Very. Angry with him. It's a good thing he probably wouldn't come within 50 miles of her because she might force him to look into her eyes.

AND AND

IF THIS WAS INTEGRATED INTO THE GAME

One of the game files would be corrupted, showing an image of the mansion, but in ruins. The only option that would come up for it when selected is "apologize."

And the player would be led through the yard where the mansion once stood, all the while hearing lovelorn singing that slowly turns to painful sobs.

They'd walk through what was left of the courtyard, plants dead from neglect, fountain busted up and making everything muddy, rubble from gravestones.

And then they'd see the tower in the distance out in the forest.

Once they got there...

The heartbroken Queenie would stand with her back to them, asking them why they've come.

Dialogue options would pop up.

- "To take it."

- "To say sorry."

If you so much as linger on the "to take it" (it being the remains of King's crown) option, she'd turn around and look at the screen. Blackness would bleed out of her eyes until it overtook the screen.

If you choose "To say sorry", she'd be very silent for a while, and slowly look up at the moon shining through her broken window.

"He was my Moon. They were my stars."

- "I'm sorry"

"It's so cold."

- "Please forgive me"

"Can you bring them back to me?"

- "No"

"Leave."

That's all I have for her right now but maybe in the future I'll tell more or do some kind of event... Maybe for Halloween. A choose your own adventure where you can make your own choices on how to speak to her.

ANYWAY SORRY FOR RAMBLING I READ ALL OF YOURS AND YOU INSPIRED ME TO TELL MORE ABOUT MINE ILY

#Screams and cries.#Thinking about naming her something else too like shattered Queenie or smth

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quokkacore · 4 years

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son of wolves III [park chanyeol and byun baekhyun]

summary: your entire life, you've fought bravely to defend the walls of your home from the evil forest spirits of the spearwood trying to destroy it, alongside your family, friends, and your betrothed, baekhyun. until you're infected by the evil that resides in one of these spirits, and you run away from home, before it can spread to those around you. it's in your exile, wandering through the spearwood that you meet the wolf prince, a tall man of hardened eyes, few words, and a fiery temperament, raised by these spirits you've so grown to resent. it's here that you begin to question everything you've ever known, and wonder whether the evil was out here, in the forest, or inside the walls of a place you once called home.

pairings: hunter!baekhyun x reader, wolfprince!chanyeol x reader

genre: reverse princessmononoke!au, ANGST, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fantasy epic, war au, wolf!au

warnings for this chapter: love bombing, emotional manipulation, non-sexual nudity, themes of infidelity?, mentioned child abandonment, gaslighting, guilt tripping, language, chanyeol is not in this chapter :(, baekhyun is an asshole and has huge mommy issues, reader makes No Good Decisions, mentions of gun violence, baekhyun is a bit forceful with reader at one point, threat of physical abuse(?), emotional abuse, blackmail, reader is drugged, possible non-con? (reader is drugged and baekhyun gives her a kiss on the lips)

song recs: fool of me - say lou lou & chet faker // blinding - florence + the machine // all my pride - black honey // king and queen - exo-cbx // power is power - sza, the weeknd & travis scott

word count: 5.8k

a/n: i’m sorry. i just had to!!! this isn’t the final chapter, i had a last minute idea of giving you guys ONE LAST CLIFFHANGER kjdkfjdk please don’t hate me!! thx to my irl best friend for all of the feedback (if ur reading this hi queen ily) and to @riajae for all of the help <3

disclaimer: i do not condone baekhyun’s actions in this chapter and i don’t believe that the real baekhyun would act like this in real life.

story masterlist // main masterlist

chapter three: the return

When you awoke, it felt as if you had never known peace in your life. Because your thoughts were jumbled when they should have been slow and sluggish as you were roused from your sleep. Despite the warmth of the quilts, you felt numb, as if you were still stuck in the cold.

Your eyelashes fluttered, body stretching across the bed. You’d never felt more out of place in this bed.

What you should have done was sighed in satisfaction at the bunches of quilts keeping your toes warm. You should have sunk further into the mattress, and buried your nose into Baekhyun’s pillow and taken in his scent after being deprived of it for so long. But as you recalled what had happened, you felt yourself sinking, but not because you were finally in your bed after so long.

Immediately, you understood where you were, what had happened and what had led you here. To a degree, you had an odd sense of coherency you weren't sure a person who had almost died of hypothermia could have.

You could hear the murmuring behind the door. The sound of Baekhyun's voice mingling with Yixing's coasted through your ears, but you were only able to catch bits and pieces. Your thoughts were too jumbled to latch onto the conversation.

"When you… was she...?"

"Delirious… didn't understand… anything she said."

"I need to… anything else?"

"No, I think… let you know."

You sat up slowly, when you heard the front door close. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you let out a quiet whine as you stretched your arms.

Your eyes fluttered open, head immediately craning to the pristine, white gauze wrapped around your arm. The bandages made their way around your fingertips, and all the way to your shoulder now. Aside from that, someone had changed your clothes, and now you were wearing clean clothes, at last.

You swallowed harshly, clenching your jaw. As you sat up, the sound of the front door closing made its way to your ears. Then, came the sounds of feet padding across the floor. You tried to move your legs, to stand. They wouldn’t budge, slightly weak.

The bedroom door opened quietly, as if whoever was trying to open it didn’t want to disturb you. However, once the familiar pair of brown eyes settled on your sitting form, it swung open.

“Y/N,” Baekhyun sighed in relief, striding towards you. You tried to stand, needing to feel his embrace. “Baekhyun—”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you just in time. His hands grasped your waist, and you gasped, bracing to hit the floor facefirst. But you didn’t, instead coming face to face with the man you had so longed for for so long. His face was inches away from yours, his breath slightly ragged. Baekhyun’s eyes seemed to be painted in disbelief, and your heart twisted at the thought—that he seemed to be shocked that you were here, in your home.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, bruising, desperate. He hummed softly against your lips, out of relief, out of exhilaration, out of heartbreak. Your shoulders slumped, and you almost sagged against him before wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. He lowered you back onto the bed gently, lips not leaving yours. Carefully, his body hovered over yours, cautious to not pin you down or press his weight down on you.

His hands came up to cradle your face, before gently pulling away. “You idiot,” He huffed lovingly, pressing kisses all over your face, “Do you have any idea how worried I was—”

“Baek—”

He cut you off with another soft kiss before pressing more kisses to your face, “Thought I would never see you again, love…”

“How did you find me?” You murmured, finally gripping his chin and pulling his lips away from your forehead. You met his eyes, which were full of mirth. He caught his breath before finally speaking.

“Ivan marched right up to the gate a few days ago. We did our best to track his prints in the snow, and branched out when the snow covered them completely. You walked right into our search party the next morning.”

“Wait, how long was I out?” You asked, pushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. His lips turned downwards, eyes turning serious.

“Y/N, you were out for about two days. We only got back here late last night. You were asleep that entire time. We were all scared we wouldn’t be able to keep you alive long enough before we could come back here, but we managed it, somehow.”

Eyes not straying away from his, you let out a shaky breath. “Baek, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“That doesn’t matter now,” He shushed, quickly rolling off of you. He gathered you in his arms, lifting you like a man would his new wife. “What matters now is that you’re home, and you’re safe, and we’re back together again.”

You nodded, stomach heavy with guilt. Your small smile didn’t seem very convincing, even though you hoped it was.

Baekhyun led you to the washroom, setting you on the wooden chair, before telling you he’d be right back. He was gone for about fifteen minutes.

During that time, you crossed your hands in your lap, twiddling your fingers as you sat in silence. Quietly mulling over everything you’d been through for the past few weeks, you leaned back in the chair as emotional exhaustion overtook you.

The curse. The isolation you’d subjected yourself to willingly, at your naivete, the pride that you could negotiate with a god. The cold, the hunger, the loneliness… Chanyeol. Everything he’d said to you, the sensation of his skin on yours... his revelations from that night. Your natural distrust of his words. The uneasiness at the idea that they might be true.

Even if you’d been asleep for just about two days—the sensation of being tired seemed to have seeped into your bones, permeating the air worse than any hate curse ever could. It seemed to wrap itself around your neck, choking you until tears began to fall down your cheeks.

Baekhyun returned some fifteen minutes later, carefully carrying two buckets: one of boiling hot water, the other of cold water. He filled the small basin with both, testing the water with his hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold.

When he finally turned, he seemed to realize that you were crying. “Oh, my darling,” He said, kneeling in front of your chair, “Come here.”

As if it was second nature, your face buried itself in Baekhyun’s chest, his damp hand coming up to rub up and down your back, the other petting your hair. “I’m sorry,” You sobbed brokenly, hands gripping the white linen of his shirt, “Baek, I’m so sorry. I was wrong, s-so wrong…”

Baekhyun pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Maybe you shouldn’t have,” He murmured against your hair, causing a pang of guilt to rack through your chest. “But you’re alive, okay? As long as you’re alive, everything else doesn’t matter. Come on, love, we need to get you cleaned up.”

He pulled away from you, wiping away the tears streaking down your cheeks. His eyes were glassy, and that made it even worse. Your body shook with every cry, vision blurring and lips trembling.

His voice was gentle. “Don’t cry, Y/N… you’ll make me cry, and then you’ll cry even harder, and then I’ll cry even harder…”

A soft laugh made its way past your lips between your blubbering, and Baekhyun mirrored your laugh. “There’s my girl,” He said lovingly, “Come here. Can I take your clothes off?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Wordlessly, he began to undress you. You lifted your arms when he pulled off your shirt, and wiggled your hips when he pulled down your pants. His actions were gentle, tender, intimate, and the familiar hands tending to your body, lifting you up again and placing you into the bath, calmed you substantially. Automatically, you brought your knees up to your chest when he stood up, getting ready to wash you.

“Can you get in with me?” You asked quietly, voice scratchy and weak. You pouted up at him, eyes still teary, and he put his hands on his hips. He nodded, smiling sympathetically.

“With that look in your eyes, you make it hard to say no."

Quickly, he shed his clothes, setting them onto the chair next to yours, before motioning you to scoot forward. He sat down behind you, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. You craned your head back to lock eyes with him.

“You keep kissing me,” You murmured.

“Well, I wasn’t able to kiss you for three weeks,” He replied, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, eyes not leaving yours, “I need to make up for lost time.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t been able to bathe in three weeks. If there’s anyone who needs to make up for lost time, it’s me.”

He chuckled at your quip, cupping water with his hands to let it run down your skin. Picking up the soap, he got to work helping you wash. Running the bar down your arms, on your back and around your chest, touch never too heavy.

A few seconds after he started, you opted to speak. With a heavy sigh, you told him just about everything. The first week alone, Chanyeol attacking you, your meeting with the gods.

“So he is still out there,” Baekhyun muttered when you described Emyr, “Who would have thought.”

You left out certain things, nervously swallowing the urge to question your loyalties. The story about removing the bullet from Sehun was left out.

So was what happened at the hot springs. You remained silent as he washed your hair, which was greasy and matted from weeks of not being cared for properly. You sighed in quiet satisfaction, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of his hands massaging your scalp. When he was finished, he spoke again.

"So they just made you follow them around all night?" His voice was quiet, tone unreadable. “Love, I don’t think they ever intended on healing you. It sounds like they were stringing you along.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. In another life, you would have believed him.

“Baek?”

“Hmm?” His hand grabbed yours gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

"Would it be so crazy if I thought they weren't?"

He hummed pensively, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. He remained silent for a long time, and you tried to keep your breath steady. "I wouldn't say… crazy. Maybe a bit too optimistic. It's not… we've been enemies for how long now? Not crazy. Maybe a bit naive. Which I wouldn’t really expect from you, but...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You murmured quietly, turning your head. Your teary eyes met his unreadable ones. He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to be mean, love. It just… You have to understand that I told you not to go, and you went anyway. I lost my mind when I woke up that morning. And I’m still… I don’t know. Never mind.” He shook his head, frowning.

“Baekhyun…” You sounded defeated, turning your torso further back to get a better look at him.

“Y/N, I just want what’s best for you,” He answered earnestly, straightening the chain of your necklace, “I was worried. I’m sorry if I’m taking that out on you now.”

Looking down, focusing on a mole on his bare chest to avoid his downtrodden gaze, you shook your head. “It’s alright,” You whispered, “You have every right to be angry at me.”

He didn’t rebuke you, shame bubbling in your chest when he pressed a kiss to your forehead instead. “Let’s get you into some new clothes. The Council wanted to see me after this, I’ll bring you along too.”

Wordlessly, you obeyed. He dried and dressed you, hands tracing over your body as if you were gentle porcelain as he draped clean, warm fabric across your skin. When he finished getting himself dressed he walked back over to you and kissed you again. While a few weeks ago you would have killed just to have one of these kisses, now it has simply left you hollow.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the guilt gnawing at your insides or because every time his lips met yours, all you could think of was Chanyeol’s; his skin on yours, the piercing blue of the water, everything that could have been but ultimately wasn’t—because you were both too cowardly to face the truth.

“You ready to go?” His hands made his way to your cheeks, gazing at you tentatively, warmly. Like he was scared that at any moment, you’d break away and run off even if he begged you not to.

And you nodded, too exhausted to argue, even though all you wanted was to curl up in bed and ask him to hold you while you cry. Maybe if he held you for long enough, these feelings would go away and you would forget about everything that happened to you in that forest. But you didn’t, and he didn’t ask you if you wanted to stay.

So you took his hand, and he helped you out the door.

To say the Council was furious was an understatement. You thought you’d be given a reprieve when your father rushed to you and crushed you in a hug. He didn’t say anything, but when he pulled away, his eyes were glassy.

But that seemed to be the extent of their mercy. You were berated for a good fifteen minutes, going on about how your escape was an insult to the military prowess, about how you had disobeyed a direct order, that if it were anyone else, they would have been tried for treason and abandonment.

You let them go on, not finding the energy within you to protest. You were already feeling as low as you thought possible, and doubted they could make you feel even worse.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“You say you met the old gods?”

You sighed, nodding. “I was forced to work for Selyne’s sons when I did find them.”

“What of the wolf rider?” One of the men asked, “Does he speak? What did you find out about him.”

Clenching your jaw, you decided to test the waters. “He told me his name and the names of his brothers. His name is Chanyeol.”

“He can communicate with the wolves?” An elderly woman asked, and you nodded tentatively. You needed to be very careful with your next words. If you revealed you could communicate with them also, you were done for. You would be tried for treason for sure. Maybe even witchcraft.

But you couldn’t shake the idea that you were wrong. Not because of everything you’d been through, but because of what you’d told Baekhyun. That you were wrong to go out there. With every word spoken, you felt a growing sense of unease, an urge to protect the wolves, the Spearwood, and everything it stood for.

“From what I saw and heard, yes. But it’s… strange. He spoke out loud to them, and I couldn’t hear their responses. I asked him how. He said it was because he’s connected to the she-wolf, and as a result, to the other creatures of the forest as well.”

They asked if he was from here or from somewhere else. You knew it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, they saw him as human, so it didn’t matter. He would be considered a traitor regardless.

“He told me he was born in the forest. That’s all I know.”

There was a pause in the conversation, only perking up when Jongdae spoke up. “He said he’s connected to Selyne,” He pointed out, “What would happen if she were to die?”

Suddenly, the air in the room changed, and your stomach dropped.

“He would have to lose his connection to the forest.” Minseok seemed to catch on to what Jongdae was saying. “On top of that, we get rid of one of their leaders. It would be a huge dent in their morale and strategy. That could give us the upper hand.”

Your father nodded. “Y/N, you know the forest better than any of us now. If you worked with the wolves, you must have seen their den.”

“I was with the pr—her sons. She lived in another den… I didn’t see it.”

“Still, you’re our upper hand,” Baekhyun said, looking slightly hopeful. It made your stomach churn. “If you were able to survive for so long on your own, we could plan a military campaign and invade. We’re stronger in numbers.”

The chatter started up again, discussing possible strategies, and it became too much. You felt a ripple in your arm, but you managed to hold it back.

“No.”

The chatter died down as quickly as it had started, and everyone turned to look at you. Your heart began to pound in your chest, your palms turning clammy. “They… they said once they’d be willing to negotiate a truce. They’re just as scared as we are, as tired of the war as we are, and they just want peace—”

"We have an opportunity to get rid of them once and for all, so we can finally expand our home and reap the benefits of having the forest for ourselves," A man told you, "You wish for us to let it slip through our fingers?"

Swallowing, you shook your head. This wasn’t what you wanted to happen. "I don't think it's wise for us to simply invade, when both sides want the same thing—"

“Hold on, so they want peace but then they decided to ambush us one day?” Baekhyun said, sounding a bit louder. You didn’t like the accusatory tone in his voice.

“They wouldn’t have ambushed us if you hadn’t shot Sehun!”

Baekhyun’s head shot back, eyes widening. He was silent for a moment, eyes darting back and forth before he could speak again. But your father beat you to it.

“Y/N, who is Sehun?”

“The wolf that bit me that day,” You admitted. “He got shot. The wound got infected, and that’s what he spread to me. I pulled out the bullet myself—they forced me to.”

Your head turned to Baekhyun, who had interlocked his fingers and whose eyes were dark and unreadable. “Chanyeol said that you were the target that day, because you were the one that shot him.”

“So you’re just going to take that—that creature’s word over mine?” Baekhyun’s voice was low, bordering on angry, “Really, Y/N?”

“I’m not saying that I believe him, I’m just saying that if one of us hadn’t—”

“It sure sounds like you do,” Jongdae snapped.

“—Provoked them, we wouldn’t be—”

“Enough!”

Your father’s voice rang through the room, and suddenly, you could hear a pin drop. The look on everyone’s faces gave it away. You had just made a fatal mistake.

“We’ll take a recess,” Your father said, glaring at you, “Baekhyun, take Y/N back to the house. Keep her there and when you return we’ll resume discussing strategies. Clearly, three weeks of wandering through the cold have made her unwell.”

“What?” You cried, incredulous. Baekhyun stood, walking towards you, cautiously gripping your arm. "Come on, love, let's go."

"No!" You tugged your arm out of his grip, "You can't do this, it's not safe and it's not smart—"

“Clearly, she’s gone mad from the cold and the isolation! How can we believe anything she says?” The old woman from before you was scowling at you, “Get her out of this room. Immediately.”

“How dare you,” You fired back, “After everything I’ve done for this Council you would just—”

But Baekhyun was pulling you away anyway, and within a matter of minutes, you were back inside the walls of what was once your home. Baekhyun didn’t let go as he tugged you over the threshold, leading you towards the bedroom.

“Baekhyun, let me go,” You demanded, still trying to pull away, “Byun Baekhyun, let me go! You’re not listening to me—”

“Why should I listen to you?” He snapped as he shoved you into the bedroom, pushing you to sit on the bed.

“Because I know what happened to me in there! I’m not crazy! I’m—”

“We will discuss this when I come back from the meeting. My word is final.”

He looked furious, which completely caught you off guard. He seemed to be sneering at you when he slammed the door, shaking his head.

Then, you heard a soft click, and your blood ran cold. You shot up, darting towards the door, jiggling the knob.

He had locked you inside. You banged on the door. “Baek! Baekhyun, let me out! Let me out, please, Baek.”

You heard the front door slam, and the next thing you knew, you had collapsed to the floor, sobbing, clutching the knob like a lifeline.

How long you stayed like that was a mystery. Eventually, your tears dried up, and your wailing quieted. What you were left with were a hollow interior, a growling stomach and a pounding head. You craned your neck to look at the bedroom, which was slowly getting darker as the afternoon stretched into the evening.

Your eyes landed on a chair you hadn’t previously noticed in the morning. Draped over it were the clothes you had worn for the past few weeks, undoubtedly dirty. Making your way over to the chair, you picked up the shirt. When you lifted it you crinkled your nose, the smell of dried sweat and blood making its way to your nostrils. Had you really smelled like this the entire time?

Shoving the thought to the back of your mind, you looked in the pockets of the shirt until you found it: a small opal dangling from a chain of gold.

You weren’t sure what to tell Baekhyun. Hell, you weren’t sure if you should tell him at all. He’d always been quite sensitive when it came to his mother.

And to tell him now, with the way he was acting…

You stared at the small stone, silently cursing Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s father. If you hadn’t been such a dick, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

Thinking over everything that was said in the Council meeting was painful. It didn’t help the pounding in your head. How you’d been called mad, and you’d been effectively silenced by the people who would easily listen to you in the past.

You considered what they might be discussing right now. Because you knew they wanted the forest for themselves, to strip it barren and use it to build an empire. Your hands tightened around the necklace when you realized it.

This war wasn’t being fueled by fear. Not on this side, at least. It was greed, pure human greed, and it wouldn’t stop unless a major change happened.

You didn’t hear the front door open, but you heard the padding of feet headed towards the bedroom door. You shot up, shoving the necklace into your pocket as the lock clicked, and then the door swung open.

Baekhyun’s eyes fell on you, standing right across from you. There was an odd mix of contempt and satisfaction in his eyes. You’re not an idiot. You knew which one of those emotions was reserved for you.

“I brought you some food,” He murmured, “I figured you might be hungry.”

Nodding, you sheepishly put your hands in your pockets, and trudged over to him. Baekhyun led you to the small dinner table, where he’d set down two bowls of soup, which he must have bought from Mrs Yang’s tavern. He was silent the entire time, watching you as you scarfed down the soup. The taste was as rich as ever, but this time there was a new kick to it. You also ate the bread roll you’d picked up from the basket in the middle of the table. The meal was warm and hearty and while it filled your stomach, the void in your chest was still there.

“We’re leaving early tomorrow, before dawn,” Baekhyun said finally, “We plan to go as far in as we can.”

Your heart just about stopped, the stones on your chest and in your pocket weighing you down, stopping you from shooting straight up. “Why?” You croaked, eyes filling with tears.

Baekhyun sighed and scowled at you, pushing away his half empty bowl. “You were wrong.”

“What?”

“Today,” He clarified, “You said that the old gods were just as scared and tired as we are. You’re wrong. We’re not afraid of them. We haven’t been for years.”

Your hand grabbed his. “Baekhyun, you can’t,” You pleaded, “Please. Listen to me. There’s no need for all of this, this violence. It can end tomorrow if you’re just willing to negotiate with them.”

“We don’t want to negotiate.” He spat out the last word as if it was offensive. His hand pulled away from yours. “That forest is ours for the taking and we’re not about to let it slip through our hands.”

He stood, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “We’re expanding our home. This is for the greater good, Y/N. Can’t you see? A future for us—”

“I’m going to die soon.” Your voice was trembling now. You couldn’t blame yourself. “There is no greater good for me, no greater good for us. For how long would it last, anyway? If the forest is gone, how do we hunt? It’s provided for us for generations, and all we do is take and take and take and we never give it anything in return—”

“Why the hell would I want to give anything to that forest?” He yelled, slamming his hands down on the table with a loud bang, causing you to flinch. “Over the years, they’ve killed hundreds of us—”

“And we’ve killed thousands of them!” You had stood now, chest heaving. “I know it’s hard for you to think there’s good in there, but there is, Baek. It’s calm and quiet and peaceful and that’s all—they—want. To keep it that way.”

He shook his head. “There’s never been good in that forest. Not since we left. It’s evil, and it corrupts anyone who stays there for too long. I-it corrupted that rider—Chanyeol or whatever his name is—and now, I’m starting to think it’s corrupted you too.”

“That rider will die if you don’t convince the council to stand down.” Your hands were trembling, but somehow, you mustered up the strength—the courage really—to throw the necklace down onto the table, just as Baekhyun was asking why he should care so much about Chanyeol.

At first, he didn’t understand. He probably thought it was his necklace, the one he’d given to you. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned downward, and then he looked up to see your face. Only when he meant to look back down at Chanyeol’s necklace and began to lower his gaze, did he realize that there was more than one opal necklace.

His expression turned uncertain, blinking a few times in disbelief. “Where… where did you get this?” He asked, breathless. Your voice wavered, uncertain of what would come next.

“Chanyeol gave it to me,” You said, staring at the necklace, “He said… He said it belonged to the woman who gave birth to him. His… his mother.”

Baekhyun looked back up at you, mouth gaping. “That can’t be possible,” He murmured, shaking his head. You shrugged. “I didn’t believe him either, Baek. Not at first. But… I don’t know.”

“What exactly did he tell you?” He murmured, gritting his teeth. “I need to know.”

So you did. You told Baekhyun the same story Chanyeol had told you, the same story Selyne had told him as a child. Of a young woman who died of frostbite after running away from her husband, who gave birth to a baby boy with wide brown eyes and big ears, who begged a wolf goddess to raise the baby as one of her own.

The entire time, your gaze remained trained on him. His eyes turned glassy but his tears didn’t fall, and you felt your chest ache when you finished, and he took a shaky breath.

“So that’s where she went,” He whispered, “I had always thought…”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, Baekhyun. I wish I could have told you under better circumstances.”

Hands trembling, he picked up the necklace, and traced over the stone with a delicate finger. You saw a tear fall, but just as you were about to comfort him, something in him shifted. His breathing became heavier, his top lip twitched, before twisting into an angry sneer. His fist closed around the necklace, right before he threw it across the room. You heard it hit the wall, but you didn’t see where it went.

“No.” His teary eyes met yours, and you knew that something had taken over inside of him; some deep rooted pain he had locked away for years upon years. “I’m not helping him. Not after what he took from me.”

“Baekhyun—”

“Why do you seem to care so much about him, Y/N? Huh?” He leaned forward, voice dangerously quiet. “Did something… happen while you were out there? Is that what this is?”

“Nothing happened,” You growled, tight lipped.

He scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

Baekhyun walked towards you, once again gripping your wrist, this time even tighter. He tugged you towards the bedroom, you protesting every step of the way. Where you found the energy, you didn’t know. Because you were so tired.

“You’re hurting me,” You told him, but he didn’t let go. “Baekhyun, please! If you could j-just hear me out, o-or let me out so I can talk to the people in town—”

“What, you think they’ll believe you?” He snarled, slamming the bedroom door shut and finally letting you go. He stepped forward, but you refused to concede. “Doll, you just spent three weeks wandering around in the wilderness because you didn’t want to die. At first, everyone felt bad, you know? Poor little Y/N, all alone in the woods because she wants to live a full life.”

He stepped forward again, this time grabbing your face. This time, his grip wasn’t painful, wasn’t even tight. You didn’t pull away as his eyes filled with mock sadness, lips twisting into an exaggerated pout. “But then they watched as I, your poor, poor fiance, walked in and out of that forest for three weeks trying to save you. Because I thought I could,” He let out an empty, humorless laugh, “I thought I could still bring you back and take care of you until you died. Maybe have a less elaborate wedding, but a wedding nonetheless. They watched me do that and then they realized that maybe, just maybe, you were being a selfish little brat and only thinking about yourself. So tell me, my love, who are they going to be more inclined to believe, huh?”

Yanking yourself out of his grip, you stared at him in disbelief, but he didn’t stop. He seemed to be caught in his own little reverie, monologuing as if he were the one who had supposedly gone mad. “We were supposed to get married and lead these people to greatness. It was our destiny. But now you’ve gone and ruined everything.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t shot the damn wolf,” You hissed. His eyes flashed, and he shook his head. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. I suppose it wouldn’t… but I guess it’s better this way.”

He put his hands on your shoulders, and you jumped. “How?” Your voice was barely audible.

“If you hadn’t gotten bitten, we wouldn’t be here. But that means I never would have found out that you were so… susceptible to the forest. We shouldn’t have such a weak leader running around. Wouldn’t want that, would we? But we are here, and now I know. So here’s what’s going to happen.”

His hands pushed down on your shoulders, forcing you onto the bed. You glared up at him as he put his hands on his hips. “I’m going to leave with the other soldiers in a few hours, and I’m gonna kill myself a she-wolf and her little bastards. You’re going to stay right here.” His condescending tone wasn’t missed, even as he got more sentimental.

“I’m going to come back, and we’ll get married, and we’re gonna be happy until you die. And when you do, since I, as your widower, will have married into your family line, I’m going to lead my people to destroy that forest once and for all. How’s that for a plan?”

You couldn’t answer. You didn’t want to play the hero and say that he would never win. Because the truth was, he very much could. The gods and their followers didn’t understand the guns or how to treat bullet wounds. Even worse, Baekhyun had a sort of magnetism that drew people to him, that made them hang on to every single word he said.

You had no more cards to play. Every single one you had tried had backfired, horribly.

Pursing your lips, you sighed. “...Fine. I’ll stay.”

You refused to concede. It wouldn’t end this way. But right now, you were too tired to fight back, and your muscles seemed to be getting heavier and heavier by the second.

“That’s my girl,” Baekhyun murmured, gaze beginning to warm. “Get to bed, love. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

You nodded, holding back a yawn. You tried to kick off your shoes, but quickly realized your movements were sluggish. All at once, despite the slowness of your body, your mind snapped to the conclusion.

The soup tasted differently. You were tired. Your movements were slowing down. Baekhyun had spiked the soup.

“Baek,” You slurred, “What did you do?”

“What was necessary, love.” It sounded so twisted, the way his voice was so warm. “I needed to make sure you wouldn’t fight back.”

But maybe this was how Baekhyun had loved you all along, and you had never realized; in his own sick, twisted way. Maybe he had never loved you at all, maybe he just wanted to own you. The realization came as he removed your shoes for you, before guiding you under the covers. Your fists weakly came up to hit at his chest as he did, but they did no damage.

“You’re vile,” You whispered. You heard Baekhyun chuckle. “Maybe I am.”

He tucked you in with a kiss on your forehead, one you barely felt. You were already beginning to slip away. “Yixing will be here in the morning to check on you. You’re still recovering, you know.”

You couldn’t respond, too groggy to do so. But you were aware enough to hear his final words, whispered into your ear before he pressed one final kiss to your lips.

“If you try anything, I’ll fucking kill him,” He said, voice saccharine sweet, “Family or not. He stole something from me once.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, but not before you heard him open the door.

“I’m not going to let him do it again."

taglist: @delightpcy @chanyeolscoon @xxbluestrifexx @imsoba @chogiwhy127 @always-wishing-for-rain

#exo imagines #exo au #exo scenarios #exo angst #exo smut #exo fluff #byun baekhyun x reader #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #park chanyeol x reader #my writing

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harry-niclach · 6 years

Text

Crowns Part 1

Title: Crowns

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The artist is the wonderful and kind @painfullybisexual

And this is for the Big Bang @ts-storytime thanks for creating this it helped me get used to a deadline and it helped improve my writing so thanks you guys and thanks for all your tips! Ily guys

Pairings/Characters: Romantic Analogical (Logan and Virgil) and Platonic/Familial Royality (Roman and Patton) and some oc and side characters that are in a relationship or are implied to be in love!

AU: Fantasy/Medieval based

Summary: Virgil has always been alone. He didn’t believe that there was a place for him out there. So when his Mother left him with a quick to turn Father he seemed more alone than ever. Now, however, someone is trying to help him, what can their reasoning be?

And more importantly, can Virgil stop himself from being too gay and falling for him?

Warnings: Panic, Panic attack, Minor Character Death, Illness, Cuts from falling, Swearing, blood, weapons, sword fighting/knife fighting, chase scene or two, If there's more let me know. There were more but I ran out of time to expand. (These are warnings for the entire book I will put the ones that apply for the chapter in bold!)

A/N: Research was done for the characters, names, outfits and some other random bits and bobs the rest is the fantasy half where things were added that might not be 100% factual but that’s part of the fun I guess! I hope you enjoy reading it and I hope I make the deadline! This will also end on a cliffhanger and depending on what people think I will make sequel if it goes down well and I know that Roman and Patton aren’t written as much as Logan and Virgil and that’s like only because I love analogical so much that I just can’t stop once I start but they do meet! I’m only 13 and I have written before just not on Tumblr so I had to balance school and homework and stuff too like others probably did too but don’t be mad if it isn’t great! I appreciate all the feedback though so don’t be afraid to let me know what you think!

The stairs had given way a few days ago. No one had come by. He was stuck.

The vines outside had grown and tangled in the crumbling walls, the bushes outside had grown wildly, and the grey sky ceased to clear. There was a very cold draft all through the tower and the stairs were gone and in a pile at the foot of the tower. Virgil’s crown had been thrown in a corner the second day that he had been trapped.

After all, it was the reason his world had crumbled, much like the stairs.

He had been waiting for a few days now.

People like knights were supposed to pass by here and they did but in the last few days no one had been near the area and it seemed like the universe was against him. His anxious heart was beginning to beat faster and faster. His eyes looked out the window and scanned the grass outside in hopes of seeing someone, anyone, but he could see no one and his hopes of hearing someone were drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat in his ear and his breathing that was filling up the empty room, void of sound. That would explain why he didn’t hear his savior approach,

“Is there someone up there?!” The voice was cold and precise and snapped him out of his panic,

“Y-yeah! Please! Fuck, the-the stairs I-I can’t get out!” He called back to whoever was at the bottom, his voice cracking as he stumbled over his words trying to get them out in desperation. This person sensed his discomfort and began talking calmly,

“Okay, I will find a way to get you down but please do as I say, can you do that?” Virgil only took a moment to respond,

“Y-Yeah I-I’ll try,” He was still shaking quite a bit but his mind had calmed slightly at the thought of finally getting out of this awful tower.

After about 5 minutes of listening intently waiting for the man at the bottom to tell him to do something, he heard a low rumble and some more bricks fell startling Virgil so much that a small yelp emitted from him.

“Are you alright up there?” He heard the voice once again filling him up with more hope. He nodded for a moment before realizing that this person couldn’t actually see him,

“Y-yes!” He went back to being quiet and sat on the small creaky bed in the corner of his small damp room. It was a miracle that he hadn’t become ill yet.

“Okay I need you to stand where the stairs used to be so that I can throw up a rope ladder to you, can you do that?” This man was constantly making sure that Virgil was okay. Who on god's green earth was he? Virgil pushed that thought away as it was unimportant right now, he honestly did care who was rescuing him but he also didn’t care. If the person was nice enough to rescue him and go out of their way to do so, then he assumed they were an okay person. Virgil didn’t like to assume things but in this case, he had to and it was a gut feeling so he went with it.

Virgil walked shakily over to the stairwell and looked down, making sure to keep his body pressed around the wall from the fear of falling. He waited a few minutes for this stranger to eventually throw a rope ladder up the tower. He waited and waited, he waited to the point that his anxious head made up reasons for why it was taking so long and his anxious heart began to beat faster and faster but he willed himself to at least make it down until he had a panic attack.

Just as he was about to give in the stranger came back and they had a rope ladder. Virgil’s next thought was that this stranger was very handsome and his thought after that was that he was a prince from the North. Which sent him into a further panic.

For the longest time, the North and the South Kingdom had been fighting and invading and pillaging the towns in the west where the dark sides were and Virgil had been roped into this quite against his own will. It had all been a big misunderstanding but the strange thing was that he would rather be stuck up in the tower forever than be back in the west. He wasn’t even a dark side! But as soon as the people of the uneasy kingdom saw him they guessed that he was their next king and when Virgil denied they ignored and when Virgil protested they reacted and that was how this whole thing had happened. God he wished his father hadn’t wanted to move to the west in a desperate act of fear of the South Kingdom who had threatened him so he decided this was a good idea.

He had never been more wrong in his life but Virgil didn't care he now hated the man he once called father as when Virgil was assumed of royal blood he sided with those in the wrong and when it came to dealing with Virgil’s outbursts his “Father” agreed with moving somewhere where he had nothing to mess up and where he was out of the way.

So that’s what happened and now after days of waiting for some stranger from one of the very kingdoms he feared was here trying to help him.

Why?

He was broken out of his thoughts, once again, thanks to the man shouting up the stairwell his voice laced with the slight undertones of frustration which implied that he was repeating himself,

“Please, listen, I can hear that you’re breathing quite erratically, please take a deep breath and try to focus until we at least get you down from up there,” His voice was very calculating and precise but nevertheless he did have a point, taking in a deep breath Virgil nodded more to himself before calling back down the stairwell,

“Y-yeah, o-of course,” His voice broke a little and his pitch was a little higher than usual but who could blame him because he was currently stuck in a tower with a stranger trying to help him down with a probably unstable ladder but hey at least he was getting down,

Right?

The man wasted no time in throwing up the ladder then he went on to instructing Virgil on what he should do,

“Okay, First I need you to make sure you have everything as we will not be returning here then I need you to hook the ladder onto the brickwork where the stairs used to stand, Can you do that?” His voice was again not too loud and not in the slightest bit concerned he seemed very calm, in fact, he seemed like he had no problems in the world but what caught Virgil’s attention was the word ‘we’ what did he mean?! Virgil did as he was instructed without argument or protest. Once the ladder had been hooked onto the relatively sound brickwork, the man began to talk again,

“Okay, you can begin to climb down now as the ladder appears to be structurally sound but please hold on tight and shout if you believe it to be true that you will fall, I will catch you,”

Was this guy insane?! How was he going to catch him and how was Virgil supposed to climb down the ladder calmly and why wouldn’t he hold on?! It’s not like he had a death wish! Instead of voicing his concerns he just obediently began to climb down the ladder it shook and wobbled and pieces of wall crumbled down the stairwell but the ladder somehow stayed in place, and for that, Virgil was grateful.

He reached the ground after some unknown time span, as he reached the ground his legs were too shaky to withstand his own weight but the man who helped him down caught him, it was as if he had somehow foreseen Virgil’s weak knees.

“Th-thanks...” Virgil’s voice was no more than a whisper, if even that but he was so relieved to finally be on the ground and out of that godforsaken tower. His crown was dropped next to him in disgust and as a second thought. After about a ten seconds Virgil was shaking too much to stand and lowered himself to the ground with the help of the man,

“My name is Sir Logan from the North,” He looked at Virgil with a warm shine in his eyes but nothing suggested that he wanted a name and information in return.

After Virgil was set down leaning against the wall by the door Logan moved to inspect the crown that had been thrown, He picked it up gingerly and began to turn it in his hands, his face set like stone, he spoke up once more,

“Where are you from? I do not need your name nor do I care what your name is at this precise moment in time, Now where are you from?” His voice hardened and his face remained set clearly he already knew the answer,

“Th-the West, shit! B-but! I s-swear I-I’m not a-a fuckin’ dark s-side-!” He was now frantic, trying to get his conscious stream of thoughts out into words but he couldn’t, and that’s what bothered him. He worked himself up even more tears threatening to spill out as he clenched his jaw,

“It’s okay, I know that your not one of them, I can tell from your stutter so please calm down. Take a deep breath and know that I won’t hurt you, Okay?” Logan was talking slowly but emotions weren’t Logan's forte he had a difficult time reading people's emotions, he could tell what emotions people felt at best but he had no idea how to deal with them,

Virgil began to hyperventilate, he was trying to take deep breaths but for some reason, he couldn’t breathe no matter how hard he tried and he as trying.

There was now warmth where there hadn’t been before. Something pulled his arm from his huddled form and held against a body of warmth. But it wasn’t too warm. There was a steady beat that Virgil could feel through his hand and it, oddly enough, ebbed his panic away until he wasn’t continuing to get worked up over what he would do and what would happen to him. Don’t get me wrong he was still in a state of panic it just wasn’t increasing anymore it was slowly - incredibly - leaving his system as he focused solely on breathing deep full breaths and then forcing them back out in time to the beat which he could now guess was a heartbeat.

After some minutes had passed - or maybe it had been hours? Virgil wasn’t sure anymore - when Virgil could think clearly and was mostly coherent Logan asked him something,

“Would you like to come back with me?”

Sorry for any mistakes. If you want to be tagged let me know! <3

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #ts-storytime 2018 submission #harry writes #crowns #analogical #royality #my writing

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