#nagas

[yandere-sins]

the whole feral scary naga thing is good👀 but do you know of a legend when a white snake was about to be killed but someone saved them, in return they became the snake’s bride? the delusional naga not only making things worst for the reader by forcing them to be their mate, but now the village has no choice but to sacrifice y/n if they dont want to starve to death (nagas in some cultures are higly respected and are important for livelihood and crops)

Oh my gosh... This is perfect... (I have heard of the legend but haven't researched it but even so it's perfect >:3)

You pet dogs and pspsps at cats when you see them, smile at the cows, and oink alongside pigs. All that and more, but you're not necessarily involved with animals as much as other people in your village. You like animals, and you tolerate them around you, but the thing that actually gets you excited is plants. No wonder you became the town's doctor as one of the few people who can differentiate between poisonous berries and digestible flowers. You are an integral part of the community. Nothing could threaten your position as a respected member and being needed by everyone.

Nothing but the damn naga you stumbled upon one day.

There were stories of these creatures, as with every belief, there are countless creatures to know of in your culture. You heard them, acknowledged them, but didn't actually believe in them. Most stories are scars for children anyway, and half-human, half-snake? Sounds impossible for you as a doctor.

For years you roamed the forests for plants for your medicine and studies. Years of never meeting anything scarier than a wild cat or a completely normal but still somewhat scary big snake. Years of walking in and out of the forest unscathed and unharmed. But you are immediately alerted when a human voice calls out to you from a pitfall. You don't recognize the voice from your village, but as a doctor, it's your duty to help.

You do everything you can, from telling them that you're there for them and will get them out of the trap and patch them up once they're out, to cutting vines to make a rope and throw it down into the dark. The possibilities of what could be down there don't unsettle you. All you see is your mission to help. When you tell them to try climbing your makeshift rope, you still expect a human to appear from the very deep, very large pitfall. Oh, how wrong you are.

Because while at first, you see the right things like hands, shoulders, a head, and hair, nothing from the waist down is normal about the suspected human clawing its way out of the trap. But it's too late now to cut the vines as its tail slowly drags itself out of the hole, the proportions becoming uncanny on a body much too big for a human and the tail much too white and standing out to be of a snake.

The real horror, though, is when you meet the creature's eyes, slits for pupils that fixate on you, dilating and narrowing as it musters its savior, its nose sniffing the air while you feel like you're going to throw up as you notice the claws, scales, fangs. The unnaturalness of this monster in front of you.

You made a mistake. A big one. The pitfall was not a dangerous creation for a human by a human. It was a last effort to save humans and keep a monster locked away in a prison it couldn't escape. You released it—enthusiastically even. The desperation you feel, knowing you might have doomed your village, is immeasurable. You can already hear their screams echoing in your ears as they are torn limb from limb by this monster, all while you'll probably die first, unable to help them as they call for you to heal them.

Both of you are staring at each other for what feels like a breathless eternity until the creature slithers—slithers!—towards you, its claws reaching out while you close your eyes, unable to watch it go for the kill. Its arms wrap around your body, and you gasp as it buries its face in the space between your neck and shoulder, your heartbeat racing as you listen to it sniff loudly, deeply inhaling and exhaling through its mouth. A mix of a purr and growl reaches your ears, vibrating in its chest and making you shiver in its grasp as the creature declares you as "Mate" before picking you up, feet dangling so far from the ground you might break a leg if you fall.

Luckily, that's not the creature's intention, and it seems delighted by you clawing at its shoulders, trying to hold on to it out of fear as it begins to carry you away. It's then that you realize that no way can you let it take you somewhere deeper into the forest. You are needed in your village! You are important! Too good to be eaten somewhere even your bones cannot be found anymore! It's a little scary, but as the creature has to lower itself to slip under tree branches and the like, you take the risk, kicking its stomach when it least expects it to create enough distance between arm and body to slip out.

You never ran as fast and breathless in your life as you did with the naga right behind you, crashing into tree trunks and hissing and growling, its claws always dangerously close to your body. You knew the forest well, but the only thing this monster seemed to care about was getting to you. It was foolish to lead it back to your village, but maybe... maybe! The warriors were skilled! The elders might know where to hit its weak spots! There was at least some hope that you could escape it!

The naga only caught up to you when you stumbled into the open clearing where your village was settled. Gasps and screams echoed around you while your face slammed into the ground involuntarily as you two collided, your body collapsing from the run. You heard the calls for the warriors, the terrified screams of the women and children, but all of a sudden, everything becomes very nauseatingly quiet.

Even with the hand of the naga pressing you down into the ground, keeping you from running from it anymore, you somehow manage to look up. What you see is almost more terrifying than all the possible scenarios you could have imagined. Everyone—the warriors, women, children, elders—knelt on the ground before you, bowing their heads, foreheads touching the dirty ground while you heard the unsettling sounds of the creature behind you, hissing and thumping its tail.

"My mate!" it declares loudly, possessively, and the people shudder in reverent fear. Finally, the oldest member of the tribe lifts their head, nodding before answering, "All yours. We will not interfere."

Their eyes fall on you, their lips silently mouthing, "I'm sorry."

You are once again picked up, settled tightly against the naga's chest, enveloped like an inconsolable child in its arms before it turns. You have to watch the villagers slowly rise to their feet as the creature spares their life with your sacrifice. The eldest shakes their head, turning to a warrior before asking how the naga could possibly escape. "I don't know," sighs the warrior. "But that's one more doctor lost to these creatures. And we tried so hard to keep this one."

"Better them than us," the eldest comforts him, patting the warrior's shoulder. "We knew the trap wouldn't be able to keep the naga from what they want forever."

Tears brimming your eyes, you meet the disappointed gazes of the village you thought you were so important to. People who gave you away in a heartbeat to appease some monster, and the bitterness overwhelms you as you realize they knew it was coming. Coming for you of all people, never telling you to leave the village and run for your life. Instead, they used you for as long as they could.

Until you rescued your own death sentence.

[katkalis-the-fanartist]

Resting nagas on branches despite them probably being more grounded snake men

[yeenybeanies]

🐍💀🧼💋✨

[somnefarious]

I talked about elevated seats already, but I'm also a very big fan of someone hypnotized being moved around like a rag doll at the whims of the hypnotist/hypnotic creature - very good

[isiscelestia]

The Ashlesha Nakshatra, the Snake Princess, and Amazon Lily🐍

‼️Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault, Human Trafficking ‼️

Based on: One Piece, Amazon Lily Arc (episodes 408-421). “Island of Women”

Hello everyone! I just want to say that I am NOT a Vedic astrologer, however I have been researching my own placements. I’m an Ashlesha lagna, so of course I saw the similarities in the Pirate Empress and this arc. This is my analysis on the connection between the Ashlesha Nakshatra, Boa Hancock, the Kuja Pirates, and Amazon Lily.

“Snake Princess”: Snake symbolism on the island and in this arc are very prevalent. You can see this with the Gorgon sisters (Boa’s younger siblings), the use of snakes as weapons, and the use giant of snake monsters to travel. The Jolly Roger of the Kuja pirates pictures a skull with nine snakes. Snakes are connected to Ashlesha because it ruled by the Nagas (divine serpents).

The Kuja tribe also has qualities like a snake. Their island, Amazon Lily, rests on the Calm Belt. This makes them a fairly isolated island that is hard to travel to. Ashlesha is known to be a guarded and private nakshatra.

Boa Hancock: Boa Hancock has two nicknames, the Pirate Empress and the Snake Princess. Her first title comes from being the ruler of Amazon Lily, which also makes her the strongest person on the island. She possesses a “devil fruit” called the mero mero no mi (aka the love-love fruit). This fruit gives her the power to turn people into stone when they become enamored by her beauty, and sometimes lust after her. She is also known as the most beautiful woman in the world, which makes her power even more potent. The snake princess has her own snake weapon named Salome, who is a giant snake. There is currently debate about what nak is connected to Medusa symbolism and I think it is the Ashlesha nak. You can especially see this in Boa’s character arc. She has a hard, intimidating appearance to protect herself and her tribe. However, on the inside she is the complete opposite.

Gorgon Sisters: The Gorgon sisters are Boa Hancock’s younger sisters. They both ate the hebi hebi no mi (snake devil fruit), but they possess different models. The middle sister, Boa Sandersonia, ate the anaconda model. The youngest sister, Boa Marigold, ate the cobra model.

Over-sexualization: Amazon Lily is only inhabited by women, thus it catches the attention of predatory and perverted men. The island is an almost impenetrable fortress and with the help of the Kuja warriors who also protect it, predatory behavior is a reason why. Boa Hancock and her younger sisters were also victims of human trafficking and sexual assault (SA has been speculated but fans believe that this is what the anime was alluding to). Not only is this nak heavily sexualized in real life, this trope is seen many times in film and television with characters played by Ashlesha women. You can see this further explained in Claire Nakti's Youtube video about Ashlesha.

Claire Nakti Ashlesha Youtube Video:

Since I am on the Claire Nakti video, I would like to also include one very specific thing she talks about here. Claire talks about how Ashlesha women are attracted to people they cannot dominate, people who have more control over themselves. Boa Hancock falls in love with the main protagonist, Monkey D. Luffy, because he didn’t immediately lust after her. They believe that strength is tied to beauty and the more strong you are the more beautiful you are, and Luffy is one of the strongest men in the world. Once she realized he was genuine with a good heart she immediately fell in love.

The Kuja tribe are very skilled and knowledgeable when it comes to poison and medicine. When Luffy first landed on the island, he ate poisonous mushrooms. Some Kuja members rescued him and healed at a river. The Gorgon sisters also fight with poison, which they used to fight Luffy. The Ashlesha nakshatra has a strong connection to alchemy, poison, medicine, and chemistry.

Also, it’s funny how Ashlesha is ninth in the order of the nakshatras. Kuja means “nine snakes” and their Jolly Roger has nine snakes.

[vaya-writes]

Serving the Serpent - 9

Briar owes Lord Isen her life. She works off her debt by serving in his castle. Dealing with the rapidly changing circumstances of her life, she’s not used to anyone paying her much attention. It’s hard when Isen seems set on interacting with her. 

Cis female human with selective mutism x male naga (slow burn, co-workers to lovers, power imbalances, eventual smut). 4700 words. Content warnings for this chapter include discussion of Briar’s cult-like upbringing, sleep deprivation, and Briar experiencing significant anxiety. Divider from firefly-graphics.

Thank you for your patience everyone <3 It's been a month and a half, whoops. I present the only one bed trope. Enjoy.

Previous - Masterlist

The phrase ‘when it rains, it pours’ is not always accurate in the Ophidian Lowlands. Usually, the sky hangs low and overcast, drizzling on and off throughout autumn.  Perhaps the saying is a holdover from when the Pilgrims lived on the continent. Perhaps it was never meant to be used literally, and only ever used to refer to misfortunes of other kinds. Regardless of the phrase’s origins, it proves especially true the morning lord Isen is supposed to start his tour.  

Briar finds him amidst a tangle of blankets, unresponsive. She’s not surprised. The serpent is cold blooded, and the temperature can’t be doing him any favours. Opening the curtains doesn’t do much to rouse him, and neither does stoking the fire.  

Briar approaches the bed, staring down at the pale scales that peek out from the blankets, wondering if she should wake the lord. She’s never had to do so before, as he’s never had to be up quite so early. 

She coughs softly, but Isen doesn’t respond. Neither does he move when she shakes the bed. She waits a moment before trying again. And then a third time. Her anxiety grows when she realises she’ll have to take more drastic measures.  

She’s just doing her job. She won’t get in trouble. She won’t. 

Isen lets out a hiss when she pulls the blankets from the bed. He curls up tighter and attempts to sink beneath his pillows. Briar starts removing them, one cushion at a time until Isen lies bare on the bed. Still, he does not wake. 

Briar lets out a loud sigh – practically a groan with the way exasperation colours her voice. They have things to do and places to be, and they’re going to be late. 

She flinches when Isen sits up, quite suddenly.  

He squints at her, bleary, hair mussed. “D’you say somthin, Leg?” 

She’s taken aback by his slurred speech. Enough so that she doesn’t even have room to worry at the question. Instead, she raises her brow. ‘Did you?’ 

He rubs his face. Lets out a groan.  

And lays back down. 

Briar watches him with widened eyes. She no longer has any compunctions about shaking him awake. 

Isen is saved from Briar’s ire when Arol blows into the room, completely abluster. 

“You do this every year Kovit!”  

Briar jumps back as the lizard grabs Isen’s tail and pulls; heaving until Isen’s bottom half is hanging off the bed.  

“The weather broke, I’ve been rearranging things since sunrise, we are already behind. And you’re not even out of bed!” 

Isen lets out another groggy noise before sitting up. “Sss fine Arol. The tide doesn’t change ‘til midmorning.” 

“The tide doesn’t- are you not listening? It’s been raining all night. We’re not taking the Ophidia, we have to go on foot!” 

Isen takes a moment. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

He sighs. Rubs his face again. “Okay, okay. What time is it?” 

“Time to leave. The sun has been up for nearly an hour.” 

“Okay. I’m moving.” He slides off the bed, moving sluggishly towards the wardrobe. 

Arol turns tail and is about to leave when Briar taps him on the arm. She doesn’t want to deal with his mood, but would prefer that to being left in the dark. 

“What?”  

She stills at his tone. Stares him dead on, and waits for him to deflate a little.  

To his credit, Arol seems to understand her expression. “You’re right, sorry. I’m just feeling quite frazzled.” 

She shrugs, and waves off the statement. Then she shakes her head. ‘What is happening?’ 

Arol eyes her hands with a wince. “I’m sorry, I haven’t learnt Sign yet. Isen, can you translate?” 

Isen leans out from his wardrobe as Briar repeats herself. “She’s asking what happened.” 

“Of course, you’re new around here.” Arol’s posture loosens. “Most of the time we travel the lowlands via barge. This trip would only take a day or two if we could do that. But it stormed all last night, and now the river isn’t safe to sail.”  

Briar nods her understanding. She tries signing something simple to him. ‘What’s wrong with that?’ (Why, you, bad) 

He gets the gist of it. “It will take a whole day to travel to the Sisters on foot. Even if we can sail tomorrow, that’s a whole day we’re adding to our itinerary. I’ve had organise additional supplies, reschedule our appointments... It’s not a big problem. I’m just feeling foul. Sorry for yelling, you shouldn’t have to witness that.” 

Briar waves him off again. ‘It’s fine.’ 

He nods. “Thanks, Legs. I’ll meet you both downstairs. Breakfast will be on the trail.” 

Briar’s nose crinkles. It seems Isen’s nickname is sticking. 

Arol is gone by the time Isen emerges from his wardrobe, dressed and looking marginally more awake. He lets out another yawn, before giving Briar an almost contemplative frown. 

She raises her brow, accompanying him as he follows after his representative. ‘What?’ 

“I think I dreamt that you said something to me, right before I woke, but I can’t remember what.” 

Briar immediately knows what he’s talking about. He had woken right after she’d groaned at him. She can’t help but stare at her feet as they walk, an unsourced feeling of anxiety curling in her gut. The idea of vocalising-  

She doesn’t even want to think about it. Every time it had come up since she was a child, she’d been met with nothing but distaste. Exasperation. Blame. Even the kindest of the pilgrims had alienated her. Made her feel like she was deficit of something. She doesn’t want to hear it from Isen too.  

It’s irrational. She knows he wouldn’t hurt her intentionally. Wouldn’t pressure her to speak if she made it clear that she didn’t want to. But everyone who’d ever found out that she could speak – or at least that she should be able to, that her vocal cords were not, in fact, damaged, did nothing but hurt her. Intentional or not. Even Stella, from time to time. It was exhausting. 

She realises that Isen is silent. He’d been awaiting her reaction to his confession. Had possibly taken her silence the wrong way. 

She can’t say why she does it. But the exhaustion is back, and part of her wants to confide in somebody. To share, and lighten the burden, just a little. To say ‘I am tired, and I hate this’. And she doesn’t think Isen will make a big deal out of it. 

So she does it again.  

She sighs, letting out an unpleasant, almost wheezing groan while she does, replicating the noise that had woken her boss.  

Isen whips his head in her direction. He looks bewildered. Amused. “Is that what woke me up? I didn’t dream it?” 

Briar shrugs, looking back at her feet again as they descend the stairs. 

He’s silent for a moment, and she dreads the questions that might come. 

But he only huffs. “I must have really annoyed you. Sorry Legs.” 

She looks up, surprised. 

“It’s the temperature. I wish I could tell you I’d be better, but it’s only going to get worse.” He runs a hand through his hair. Adds offhandedly, “I’d probably sleep through the whole of winter if it weren’t for my- well-” he looks embarrassed. “I guess you’ll see.” 

No longer wracked with tension, Briar levels Isen with a mystified stare.  

He waves her off. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry for making your job harder this morning.” 

--- 

Briar does not enjoy travelling. 

The path near Riversreach is manageable. It’s supplemented with wooden planks laid over the worst of the mud, keeping the muck from swallowing the ground. But by midmorning they’re trudging through the sludge– all of Briar’s concentration going towards sidestepping puddles and navigating mired pits that menace her boots with their depth. 

She’d been aware that there are no major roads through the Lowlands, but seeing really is believing. If she were here alone, she’d become quickly lost amidst the wetlands. Now and then she spots markings on the trees – bits of rope and ribbon tied to the branches to make the way more visible. But most of her focus is on her feet as she scrabbles to keep hold of her luggage.  

Pack animals wouldn’t be able to traverse the lowlands with any effectiveness, so everyone carries their own things. Even Isen drapes a bag over one shoulder, his partison over the other. He looks particularly miserable. 

There are places where he can dodge the worst of the mud, but most of the journey he has no choice but to slosh through it. Briar understands now, why he’d elected to forgo a sarong today. Anything on his lower half would be spattered and ruined by the mud. Still, he wears a coat. It surprises Briar, who’d never seen him cover his chest. He really must handle the cold poorly.  

Shivering in the drizzle, she can’t help but sympathise with him. 

By the time they arrive at their first stop, Briar is regretting her choice to join Isen on this trip. She knows she should take in the sights; examine the first settlement of the Lowlands with keen interest. But her skin is splotchy from insect bites, her feet are wet and blistered, and her hair is frizzing something fierce in front of her eyes.  

Arol takes one look at her and snorts. “You look as miserable as our lord.” 

She acknowledges him with a grimace. 

The sun is setting when they make their way into the raised and stilted village. It’d be a relief to climb out of the mud if it hadn’t followed her, clinging to her legs with what feels like malicious intent.  

A stocky lizard greets them, chest bare despite the rapidly cooling air. He’s an older male, his colours faded somewhat, and scars dotting his hands and arms. “Welcome to the Lower Sister, lord Isen. I hope the road didn’t give you too much trouble?”  

Isen doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Or even smiling. 

The lizard chuckles. “The spare room has been prepared for you, sir. The boathouse has also been cleared for your use.” 

Isen inclines his head to the lizard. “Thanks, Varan. Arol will handle things for a bit.” 

Briar isn’t quite sure what to do when Isen wanders off, trailing around the scaffolded path; the stilts barely wobbling under his bulk and weight. Arol seems to have the luggage under control, and is chatting familiarly with the greeter. 

Suddenly worried she’d be left behind in the skeletal village of planks and ladders, Briar follows after Isen, towards a lowset building.  

She stops at the door he’d disappeared through, and gives it a tentative knock. 

No response. 

She tries again. 

After a moment there’s a muffled groan. “Yes?” 

Briar cracks the door open, suddenly apprehensive about bothering the lord. She wishes she knew the protocol for such situations. 

The first thing she sees is Isen’s pack, discarded nearby. Then his jacket, in a heap on the floor.  

Before she understands the implications of the shed layers, her eyes come to rest on his back. 

It takes her a moment to work out what she’s seeing. That the building is open on one end, to accommodate the river. That Isen is in the water, leaning against a pier of some sort. 

Then her eyes widen, and she becomes painfully aware of her intrusion. She might be used to seeing Isen’s top bare, but knowing that he’s in the process of bathing has the sight hitting differently. 

She lets out a humiliating squeak of a noise, before turning hastily away. It is, however, too late to retreat. 

Isen sounds tired, but not mad. “Did you need something?”  

Briar closes her eyes. She can feel her whole face flush with embarrassment. ‘No. Sorry. I was just following you.’ 

“Right.” He’s still tired. But she can hear the amusement in his tone. “My apologies, I should have let you know where I was going." 

‘It’s okay. I’ll wait outside.’ 

“You can stay, if you wanted. I’m sure you’d like to wash the mud off too.” 

The suggestion winds her. She fumbles with a response, blinking at her feet several times before shaking her head. ‘I’ll wait until you’re done.’ 

She shuts the door firmly behind her, even as Isen’s wry laughter follows her outside.  

--- 

None of the villages in the Ophidian Lowlands are large enough to need an inn. There's simply not enough travel to the region to warrant accommodation. The closest thing the Lower Twin has is a spare room in the Elder’s house.  

It’s a stark place, furnished with a single bed and wardrobe, and dimly lit by the light of the doorway. Varan, The Lower Sister’s leader, had freshened the room up with clean bedsheets and some dried flowers in a vase. 

Briar eyes the single bed, warily. 

‘Where is Arol staying?’ 

“With a friend. They don’t have enough room for,” Isen gestures to his tail, “me, though. So, I stay with Varan.” 

‘And where am I staying?’ 

“Here. The bed is large enough for two, if you wanted to share.” Isen frowns. “Next time we’ll bring you a hammock. Most Lowlanders use them. Sleeping off the ground keeps the water out.” 

Briar’s not sure what her face is doing, but Isen takes one look at her, and backtracks. “We could also track down Arol. See if his friend has room for another. If not, I imagine somebody has a spare hammock somewhere...” 

Briar’s stomach knots with anxiety. Torn between imposing on a stranger and a lizard she barely knows, or potentially sharing a bed with Isen. The Serpent; reviled by the Pilgrims. And more pertinently, an unwed male. She really wishes she’d stayed at Riversreach.  

She bites her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, and pulls herself together. ‘No. I don’t want to stay with a stranger.’ She steps into the bedroom. Gives the bed a wide berth as she lowers herself to the ground. ‘I’ll sleep on the floor.’ 

Isen frowns. “It’ll be uncomfortable.” 

She shrugs. ‘I’ve slept on the floor my whole life. I will be fine.’ She’s not entirely honest. Technically she’s slept in a ditch lined with hay and fur. It’s moderately better than sleeping on a hard surface.  

“Seriously, Legs. We’re close to the water. It will be much colder in the small hours. There’s no shame in sharing. If you’re worried about modesty, I can keep my hands to myself.”  

He’s not wrong about the cold. Just sitting on the floor gives her an idea of how uncomfortable the night will be. Perhaps she shouldn’t brush him off so quickly. Not that she’s in a hurry to share with him. But it might be worth considering the option more carefully. Looking past the scandal of the notion. 

She’s never slept with a man before. Never even slept close to one. In New Haven it had been forbidden for her to be even near a man who wasn’t family. Women had been watched closely, to ensure they weren’t cavorting with strangers, or breaking the rules of modesty. 

The people in Riversreach are freer with their touch. Briar didn’t know what to make of it at first. Had thought of the other servants as rude or indecent before realising that the Ophidians lived by entirely different rules. Seeing everyone else share light touches – bumped shoulders, brushed arms – is one of the main reasons she’s hadn’t been quite so put off when Isen had displayed these tendencies. 

But sharing a bed?  

She’s mortified that Isen would even suggest such a thing. Bed sharing is for family. For spouses. Not whatever she and Isen were. Servant and lord. Employer and employee. 

She shakes her head, firm, and begins to make herself comfortable. Her coat and boots are set out to dry and she uses her pack as a pillow. It’s only got clothes in it, so it works well enough.  

Isen lets out an exaggerated sigh. He sets his own clothes out to dry before closing the door and engulfing the room in darkness. “The offer remains if you change your mind.” 

She scoffs at the suggestion, but without the light there’s no obligation to sign a reply.  

Still, listening to Isen climb into bed fills her with envy. She’d manage well enough, but that doesn’t stop her from wishing for a blanket. Wishing she had the nerve to even ask for one. And though she staunchly tries to ignore the thought, it keeps resurfacing throughout the night. She keeps wondering how warm it would be, sharing the bed with Isen. And how long she could wait until he withdrew his offer to share. 

--- 

Wisps of conversation drift past Briar, barely registering, as she glares down at her drink. Her tongue wants to recoil out of her mouth, but she still sips at it, knowing that the coffee has something of an energising effect on people.  

Isen had been right, of course. Not that she’d admit it. She’d slept fitfully last night, waking every hour or so. Her back had ached upon rising. Some movement helps her body loosen, but does nothing to banish the bags under her eyes, or the cloudiness to her thoughts. 

The coffee doesn’t help. It just makes her jumpier. More likely to flinch when somebody bumps into her, and sets her heart pounding at the slightest of exertions. She concentrates so hard on staying present and focused that she barely has any awareness to spare towards Isen and their companions.  

Still, she takes in her surroundings with muted interest. Between the light of the sun and the guided tour Varan gives them, she’s able to paint a clearer picture of life in the Sisters.  

Built above the silt and reeds, the Lower Sister is a fishing village. They have the most established dock in the Lowlands, and receive what little trade makes it to the region. Most interestingly to Briar, the wooden buildings aren’t permanent; able to be taken apart and carried to higher ground in the case of severe flooding. In this part of the marsh, wood is scarce, and is treated as such. 

They cross the river at midday. The currents have settled enough for Varan to pole them over on a flat raft. Then they hike. 

The Upper Sister is located atop the steep cliff that cradles the far side of the Ophidia. A trail has been hewn into the cliff face, but the climb is still arduous. Briar is panting by the time they reach the top. Then her breath is stolen entirely by the view. 

She’d been too focused on the climb to note the height they’d gained, but with the trail finally below her, she’s able to take in her surroundings. 

The entirety of the sister village stretches beneath them. She’s struck by just how small the settlement really is. The marsh extends behind it, gradually transitioning into a thicker swamp, and eventually climbing up into the highlands, emerging as the forest. 

Varan catches her staring, and gives her a smile. “It’s really something, isn’t it?” 

She nods. 

Briar tries not to let her mind wander as much during their tour of the Upper Sister. Many of the buildings are sturdy and permanent, made from brick, with some even incorporating the surrounding outcrops of stone. The Upper is reserved for buildings that can’t be dismantled or easily relocated. There are workshops of several kinds – a forge, a kiln – and even a handful of shop fronts. 

Isen listens politely as Varan regales him with the finer details, pausing occasionally to ask a question. The focus of the tour is mostly on the plans in place during the thaw, and discussion of storage, rations, and evacuation procedures. 

Briar is happy for him to take the lead in conversation. Thankfully he doesn’t seem intent on forcing her interactions. Appears to read her detached mood. At least until lunch time. 

They’re treated to some kind of crayfish. The dish could rival the meals served at Riversreach – seasoned masterfully, and cooked to perfection. She and Isen have been served greenery with their food, while Arol and Varan eat only meat. Briar takes her time, picking carefully at the crustacean.  

Isen makes several comments in her direction, and she doesn’t process that he’s even speaking to her until he leans into view and signs her name.  

She blinks. ‘Yes?’ 

‘Are you okay?’ 

She’d been staring into space after finishing her food. It hadn’t taken long – she'd been ravenous after the day’s exercise. 

She forces a smile. ‘Fine. Why?’ 

Isen frowns. ‘You haven’t been talking. Listening.’ 

She flushes, caught out. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’ 

Isen stares her down, brows raised in exasperation. 

She looks away, chastened. ‘I’m a little tired. Yesterday was a long hike.’ (Walk. Travel) 

“Uhuh,” he says, deadpan, and bringing to Briar’s attention that the prior conversation had been entirely silent.   

Arol and Varan tactfully ignore the interaction. 

It’s close to sunset when they finish in the Upper Sister. Briar is feeling spent and overwhelmed by the time they make it down the cliff. Her muscles are jellied from exertion, and her mind is foggy from fatigue. So tired, she is, that when stepping down from the pier to the barge, she doesn’t brace for the wobble of the raft. 

Briar yelps as she loses her footing, certain she’s about to fall face first onto the wood, or worse – into the water. 

Someone grips her upper arm. Pulls her back firmly enough to steady her. 

“I’ve got you.” 

Briar takes a second to recompose herself. Still, she’s quite shaken when she looks up at Isen. 

He’s standing far too close – practically flush with Briar’s back – but for once she doesn’t care. 

‘Thank you,’ her fingers tremble as she signs. 

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “You’re welcome.” 

She doesn’t speak much on the way back. Not that she’d spoken, or rather, communicated, much before. But now the weight of embarrassment stiffens her body. She can’t lie about her state anymore, not when there’d been so blatant a display of her ineptitude. 

Her brooding must be noticeable, because Isen sighs over dinner. Reaches out to ruffle her hair.  

The action snaps her out of her miserable stupor. 

“Don’t fret so much. Missing your landing is hardly the worst thing to happen on that barge.” 

Arol snorts from his side of the table. “Pryden has fallen off at least twice.” 

Briar gapes at Arol. Struck with the image of graceful, arrogant Pryden, with his dagger sharp quips and lingering eyes. Falling off a barge. 

“You boys never could handle your drink,” Varan murmurs with a smile. 

Isen’s face crinkles. “We can handle them fine. Just not that swill you brew down here.” 

Arol stays late, reminiscing with Varan about some of their drunken escapades from older days. But when the sun sets and the fire burns low, Isen stretches and gives Briar a meaningful look. 

“I think it’s time we turn in.” 

Somehow Briar had been too tired to remember the bed situation. It comes back to her now.  

They both say their goodnights before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind them. Then there’s silence. 

Briar stares at the ground, trying to hide her nerves. She flinches when Isen’s arm shoots out, barring her path. 

“You’re sleeping in the bed tonight.” 

She recoils. ‘What? But I’m-’ 

“You are not fine. You look dreadful. You’re taking the bed, and that’s an order.” 

Panic begins to fill Briar at his commanding tone. To her humiliation, her eyes start to blur with tears. She hasn’t cried in months- and she has no intention of crying now. She turns her face away. Dashes the moisture. Holds herself stiff until the emotion passes.  

Isen softens. “Legs. I’ll take the floor tonight. Okay? I’m not going to touch you without your permission. I won’t even look at you if you like. But I cannot have my aid stumbling around like the undead. You will sleep in the bed tonight.” 

She doesn’t know what to say. How to refute him. The dim lighting gives an intimate air to their stare down, and it’s not long before Briar loses her nerve and drops her gaze. 

‘Is this... allowed?’ 

He tilts his head. “Is what allowed?” 

She gestures to the bed. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

Briar has to think on that question. The situation feels so wrong to her. How does Isen not notice it? How does he remain so unaffected? 

‘You’re more important than I.’ 

Isen blinks. He hadn’t expected an answer quite like that. 

“I... suppose. In title, yes. But we’re both people. Why should lineage entitle one person to the bed and the other to the floor?” 

Briar doesn’t know. She’d never thought to question these things before.  

Isen seems to be processing her discomfort, considering it closely.  

“The Pilgrims practice Conservatism, right?” 

Briar blinks at the sudden turn in conversation. It’s a relief to focus on something other than the space between them, and the bed looming before her. But she hadn’t expected to be discussing religion. 

‘Not quite. We migrated away from the mainland because the elders disagreed with several of its practices.’ (Migrated; travel, move. Practice; think, act, do.)  

“Which ones?” 

‘They believed Conservatism wasn’t modest enough. That the Patriarchs were too liberal. That changes within the church would lead to the loosening of values.’ She doesn’t care for the details, but can recite them, nonetheless.  

Isen winces. He’s heard the rhetoric before. “Did you and Stella practice it?” 

Briar nods. ‘It was called New Conservatism. And yes. Everyone did. Anyone who spoke out was...’ her hands slow and still. It takes her a moment to refocus. ‘Everyone did.’ 

There’s another silence. This one more thoughtful. Considering. Before Isen slithers a few inches closer. “I think that you are experiencing a bit of culture shock. It’s not unusual to those who move from home to live in foreign parts.” 

Briar shakes her head, disbelieving. ‘These aren’t foreign parts.’ 

“No? Are you not experiencing a sudden language barrier? Surrounded by completely different styles of living?” 

She shakes her head again, still in denial. She doesn’t like the way the conversation is turning. Doesn’t like how Isen is bringing it back to her. Personalising things again. 

“New clothes, new job, different companions, different rules... I’m quite certain, Legs. But it’s okay.” 

Briar sits heavily on the bed, taken off guard. ‘It’s not. It’s- I’m fine. There’s no problem. I can do this.’ 

He lowers himself before her. The naga equivalent of a crouch. “I know you can. I just want you to know that it’s okay to have doubts. To have questions. I went through something quite similar when I moved here.” 

Her hands are pressed to her face. She peeks through her fingers. 

Isen reads the question in her eyes and smiles. “It’s true. I was a mess. Completely embarrassed myself with my lack of knowledge. Can you imagine a lord who doesn’t know the number of settlements in his own lands? I had to hire Arol just to teach me about the area.” He leans back, offering another soft smile. “But that’s a story for another time.” 

She senses his focus honing back on her. Braces herself for more scrutiny. More uncomfortable conversation. But he only sits at the foot of the bed. 

“Rest. We have another big day tomorrow.” 

They have another stare down, but her heart is no longer in it. Seated so close to him, she can’t stand to meet his gaze too long. Finally, she narrows her eyes at him, before staring pointedly at the ground. 

He grins, raising his hands in surrender and slipping from the bed. “Of course.” 

Only when he’s curled up at the foot of the bed, jacket draped insufficiently across his coils, does Briar relax. She slips her boots off, and lowers herself to the mattress. Gets comfortable beneath the blanket.  

Her nose crinkles. The pillow smells like Isen. 

“Goodnight,” Isen murmurs. 

Briar hums a wordless reply, and falls swiftly into sleep. 

[infinitymythos]

Is it against life to seek eternity? Those born again in metal would disagree🤖🐍🛸

By:

https://www.deviantart.com/enothar/gallery

[dreameroftheblue]

nagas/mermaids? I think you mean ‘Long Long Men go brrrr’

[mudwerks]

(via JHALAL DRUT: Yoginis and nagas by Ramgopal Vijayvargiya, Bengal)

[hecatesdelights]

[que-es-pal-di-tas]

MiaMalkova

[katkalis-the-fanartist]

The serpentine twins with their chosen mate! Ingo vigilantly keeps watch while Emmet eagerly learns what foods their precious partner prefers! Their den is a comfortable temperature, while a fire warms the brothers' scales and helps them remain limber!

Also I now decided that I'll allow asks to be sent, directed towards them! If you wanna interact with them or have an oc step up to their home. You name it! Or if you want you can just ask general questions about them.

Even though I cant guarantee a sure response date, I'm hoping a few asks will inspire me to make more art of the scaled boys!

[yeenybeanies]

also this doodle bc i saw a funny snake video

[somnefarious]

Nice and comfy

[shadzytarts]

Some nagas, Luna and Nay

[vaya-writes]

Serving the Serpent - 7

Briar owes Lord Isen her life. She works off her debt by serving in his castle. Dealing with the rapidly changing circumstances of her life, she’s not used to anyone paying her much attention. It’s hard when Isen seems set on interacting with her. 

Cis female human with selective mutism x male naga (slow burn, co-workers to lovers, power imbalances, eventual smut). 2700 words. Content warnings for this chapter include allusions to Briar's cult-like upbringing, it's implied that Isen did not have a great childhood, and some unwanted romantic advances (though not taken far). Divider from firefly-graphics

Briar is still adjusting to her new position. Cue some world building, and some backstory tidbits from Isen regarding his family.

Previous - Masterlist

Briar’s stress starts to pick up the first time Isen uses the speaking tube. She hadn’t slept late. Not really. But Isen had to be up early for a meeting, and had woken before Briar in a rare instance. 

There’d been a shrill whistle from the tube beside her bed, and Briar had been awake immediately, heart pounding, panicking as she tried to kick her legs free of the blankets. It had taken her several moments to place herself, to identify the source of the noise, and to calm her breathing before opening the valve of the speaking tube and tapping on the metal mouthpiece, nails clacking to signify she was ready for Isen’s message. 

Things grow hectic from there. With Winter's arrival, Isen is busier, attending meetings with the locals at least twice a week. Much of Isen’s time is spent with Dinah Vulsinger, his financier, finalising the budget for the upcoming year. The rest is spent with Arol, Isen’s right hand. The lizard is from the area, and has a large part in organising last minute supplies for the winter, and preparing for the thaw. 

Briar dutifully follows Isen in this time, keeping her ears open, learning as much as she can about how he governs the Lowlands. 

She learns to write with ease. It’s still slow going, and her vocabulary is miniscule compared to those around her. But gradually she learns new words and their spellings. Numbers come less easily to her, but Lockwood has her practicing different sums each day.  

Isen makes Briar read the documents Dinah sends him. He makes her read everything, for that matter, until the words swim before her eyes, and she no longer parses meaning from the papers. Sure, reading budgets and stock counts help her understand applied mathematics. But there’s only so much she can absorb each day. 

She comes to relish her work as a cleaner and servant. It’s a chance to let her mind wander. To work without being in a state of intense concentration. But the tasks dwindle as she becomes more efficient. With the floors cleaned each day, it hardly takes her half an hour to do them. She could probably change Isen’s linens with her eyes closed. It leaves her with far too much time on her hands – time that Isen easily monopolises. 

Because when she’s not cleaning, or reading, or following him around from meeting to meeting, duty to duty, he’s speaking to her. Chattering about his work, even if half the information goes over her head. Asking how to sign certain things. Gently prodding now and then, about Briar herself. About New Haven. About her aunt. About her life before. 

She’s grateful he doesn’t ask certain questions. Not what happened to her parents. Nor why she is mute. Or how she ended up a sacrifice to the beastly creature of Eastern Highwood. She’s not sure if she’s ready to share those aspects of herself. It’s hard enough talking about herself. She’d been taught from a young age: she was to be seen and not heard. Speaking only when spoken to. Her worth was less than those around her. 

Isen must have been raised differently, she thinks. Despite being a Lord. Despite owning land. Something must have happened to make him different. Why else would he treat all his servants with kindness and smiles? Greet the peasants among them with familiarity, and good humour? Why else would he keep asking her opinion? Touching her hand as he passed? Bumping shoulders when she forgets her guard? 

It confuses her. Flusters her. Unsettles her. But she grows... not quite used to it. But to expect it. The casualness, and the disregard for etiquette. His freedom with touch, and his continuous quips. She’s not sure she’ll ever be completely okay with them, but it gets easier to mask her surprise. Easier to relax her shoulders, and not freeze up completely if he lingers in her personal space a moment too long. He’s proven himself safe to be around. Backing off when she ices him out, or apologising if he notices her discomfort.  

“You look tired,” he comments over one dinner. 

She straightens, suddenly aware of her slouch. Then shrugs. ‘I’m fine.’ 

A smile flickers at his mouth, before he covers it with his hand. “You’re allowed to be tired, you know.” 

Is she? She’d woken up to the speaking tube again, letting her know that Isen would be taking his breakfast elsewhere. Hastily she’d dressed and stepped into Isen’s chambers to ask if he wished she accompany him, but he’d waved her off.  

It takes a mental toll, being switched on all the time. Being on standby, even when Isen doesn’t have her working. She’s loath to disappoint, or to keep Isen waiting. He doesn’t interrupt her during her down time often, but when he does, she can’t help but scramble into action, an unwelcome anxiety growing in her, that if she makes him wait too long, he’ll be unhappy. He’ll punish her. 

“Are you following the new lessons Lockwood gave you?” 

She stills her features, masking her displeasure. She’d started learning multiplication and division. It’s a lot to get her head around, but she is picking it up. ‘They’re not easy, but I can do them.’ 

Isen lets the smile show this time. “They’ll get easier with practice.” 

There’s a beat of silence while they both eat. Isen breaks it again. “And the meetings. We haven’t been debriefing as frequently. Did you have any questions?” 

Endless questions. She lets her next frown show. ‘Yes, but...’ she struggles with her phrasing, ‘...I don’t know where to start.’ She also hadn’t wanted to bother Isen. She knows he’s open to teaching her, answering her questions. He does so with patience every time. But she also only asks the most pertinent of questions, not wanting to take hours just to fill in the gaps of her knowledge.  

That and there are questions she literally can't ask. She doesn’t know the signs, or the spelling for several of the concepts that are mentioned in front of her. It’s frustrating. 

“Start at the beginning?” 

It’s not very helpful advice. Still. She leans back to consider a topic. Decides on something of current relevance. 

‘What happens during the thaw?’ (Thaw. Melt. Ice change to water.) 

“Oh, the thaw. Well, it floods, of course. You probably haven’t seen the worst of it in Highwood, but depending on the length of the winter, some of the usual settlements become uninhabitable. It doesn't last long, but it can be quite destructive.” 

Briar frowns. ‘Why build there?’ 

Isen shrugs. “Where else? The woods are narrow, populated with humans and beasts. You can live in the marsh if you build on stilts. The only things we can farm in this area practically grow in the water. And there are no main roads, so all imports have to come by river.” 

Briar almost doesn’t ask her next question. ‘Is it worth it?’ 

Isen raises his brows. “What? Living here?” 

‘Ruling here.’ (Ruling. Owning. Working.) 

Isen smiles at that, the expression unusually contrite. “It’s... not a glamourous area, no. But my father bestowed stewardship to me. And people would live here regardless of rule. So, I take it upon myself to do a good job.” 

It’s strange having such a casual conversation with Isen. Learning details about him that don’t come up when he’s on the clock.  

‘Who is your father?’ 

Isen’s expression hardens, if minutely. Still, Briar braces at the change in his exterior. “My father. Lucien Kovit. One of the Collective. He rules over nearly half of the Isles, if you include my and my sister’s territories.” 

Briar blinks. She’d had no idea that Isen had come from such an influential family. 

He winces at her expression. “Don’t. It doesn’t change anything. My father is an arrogant, controlling, unkind male, and I’d rather not be grouped in with him.” 

Still, curiosity eats at her. Her family situation was vastly different from many of the ones she saw growing up; she can’t help but wonder at how Isen was raised. 

‘What about your mother?’ 

Isen relaxes, but not by much. “One of father’s many wives. Their partnership was less political, and more about offspring. A boa and a sea serpent were considered an unstable match, but father wanted a clutch of venomous children. Regardless, I barely knew the female. We were all my father’s creatures.” 

Something about his phrasing makes Briar reexamine Isen. Sympathy creeps through her. Enough so that part of her is tempted to share her own fraught history. A part she staunchly ignores, in favour of more interesting information. 

She hopes it’s a lighter topic. ‘And are you?’ 

“Am I...?” 

‘Venomous?’ She has to mime the meaning, pointing at her teeth when no synonyms come to mind. 

“Oh, no. Well, I’ve no venom I can use in combat anyway.”  

There’s a grey tinge to Isen’s cheeks. Is he... blushing? 

A growing part of her is dying to know what he means, politeness be damned. ‘Not in combat?’ (Combat. Fight.) 

“No,” he says, more firmly. “My sister Zyla, and my brother Starlen inherited deadlier venoms. Zyla possesses an uncommon neurotoxic venom which paralyses her opponents, whereas Starlen has a more traditional hemotoxin.” 

Briar has no idea what several of those words mean, but she knows a deflection when she hears one. Clearly Isen doesn’t want to talk about his own abilities.  

She respects the move, begrudgingly, and shrugs. ‘You have siblings?’ (Brother. Sister. Both. Siblings.) 

He grimaces. “Too many half siblings to count. Literally scores of them. But of my clutch there are three. Zyla, Starlen, and Kylet.” 

‘What are they like?’ 

Isen finishes his food and slouches over his desk. “Zyla is the golden child. She has a whole island under her stewardship. Starlen... has a posting in the Isle military. Kylet is a bit of an entrepreneur. A bad one. Regardless, father still funds their businesses. Encourages them when they fail.” Isen frowns. “That one could get away with murder if they tried.”  

Briar tries reading between the lines. She’s not sure why but it seems like, ‘you’re not favoured?’ 

Isen’s nose crinkles. “Not in the least. Father doesn’t like my style of business.” 

‘Why?’ 

Isen shrugs. “I’m not trying to conquer the neighbours. Or build a monopoly. My name won’t be in history books or written on statues and plaques. He’s obsessed with legacy. Always on my case about making a name for myself. Or how I run the place.” He rolls his eyes. “Just thinking about it irritates me. Can we talk about something else?” 

Brian offers Isen a rare smile. It’s small, and strained, and her next signs are hesitant, but she offers as much solidarity as she can. ‘I wasn’t favoured either.’ 

Isen’s next smile matches her own. It’s more of a grimace. “Based on how we met, I’d gathered.” He doesn’t meet her eyes when he next speaks, staring instead at one of the reports on his desk. She gets the feeling that he’s paying close attention, however. “Did you want to talk about it?”  

She lets out a noise of displeasure.  

Isen looks back to her, surprised at the vocalisation.  

‘No thank you.’ 

He gives a begrudging smile. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll listen.” 

She shrugs, and stands, ready to tidy up. She’s collecting dishes and clearing the desk when she notices Isen’s stare. He looks contemplative, biting his lip absent mindedly. 

It’s an effort not to fidget under his gaze, and she wonders if he even realises he’s staring. Until he breaks the silence. 

“I’ve a trip planned later this week. It’s not far, just touring the villages in the Lowlands. Would you like to come with me?” 

Briar blinks. It’s hard to parse an expected reaction when Isen’s face is carefully composed into neutrality. She evades the question, asking instead, ‘Should I come?’ 

Her boss shrugs. “It would be a good opportunity to see the Lowlands. Learn about the villages. See me at work.” 

She imagines he might let her stay behind if she truly wished. But he makes a fair point. Apprehension still fills her. ‘I’ve never travelled before.’ 

He breaks into a gentle smile. “It’s a longer trip from Highwood to here than it is to the villages.” 

She contains a wince. Keeps the sentiment to herself – that she doesn’t remember much of that trip to Riversreach. That she’d been drugged into insensibility and numb with terror. 

But he waits patiently for her answer. Perhaps he’d be amenable towards a few questions... 

‘How long?’ 

He relaxes fractionally at her interest. “A day at the shortest. It’s usually an overnight trip.  

‘Why?’ 

“Why is it an overnight trip?” 

‘Why do you go?’ 

His eyes unfocus as he considers. “This trip is to inspect preparations for winter and the thaw. Arol could do it for me, but I try to visit the locals once each season. Remind them I exist.” 

‘They would otherwise forget?’ (Else. If you did not.) 

Isen smiles, though not at her. “It’s easier to build trust and connections with a person when you know their face, don’t you think? When you can speak with them from time to time. I could delegate the work, but I like to hear the local problems for myself on occasion, too. It certainly makes them more tangible than if I just read about it.” 

She’s surprised at his reasoning. The Pilgrims had taught her that authority (except from their own leaders, or course) was always out of touch. That they did not care for the peasants or their problems. She’d wondered why he’d been so busy with meetings lately. The stream of locals visiting twice weekly had perplexed her. 

“So, will you join me?” 

She’s still apprehensive. But now she can’t help but feel curious. And that curiosity outweighs the fear. Barely. 

She gives Isen a measured nod.  

He smiles. “I’ll let Arol know. He'll sort our transport and accommodation. Do let Lockwood know that you’ll be absent from your lessons, yes?” 

Briar finishes her tidying. Typically, she’d rejoin Isen at the table, reading over his reports, but tonight he waves her off. 

“You’ve done enough today, Legs. Unless you want to keep working.” 

She conceals a grimace at the nickname. Then shrugs. ‘What else would I do?’ 

Isen stills, before frowning at Briar. “I don’t know if anyone has told you this, but you are welcome to leave Riversreach on your days off. Or visit your old quarters to socialise during the evenings. There are shops in the villages too. You might see something you’d like to purchase.” 

She had not been told. She hadn’t even been aware that she had days off. Perhaps Lockwood had informed her, on that first day here. But she’d been too sick with anxiety, too grief stricken over the loss of her home to take in any of the details. She hadn’t even left the castle in her weeks here, nor spent any of her wages. It’s little wonder she has no source of leisure. 

She doesn’t let any of that show on her face, though. Instead, she gives Isen a gracious nod. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ 

He tilts his head, a playful lilt entering his words. “Unless, of course, you’re lingering because you enjoy my company.” 

She gives Isen a flat stare, but it’s not enough to dissuade him from continuing.  

“I’m actually going to bed now, Legs. So, unless you wanted to join me...” 

She can’t help but stiffen; her lips pursing with the effort it takes to bite back her scowl. She decides right then that she’d rather spend the next few hours doing nothing in her room, than deal with Isen’s casual advances.  

‘Goodnight, my lord,’ she signs, before promptly leaving.  

It’s a shame of course, she reflects upon entering her room. She’s confident by now that Isen won’t fire her for leaving so suddenly. That he won’t hold it against her if she denies his advances, or shirks his humour.  

She just wishes he wouldn’t make such attempts. If it weren’t for them, she could almost allow herself to agree with him. To admit that she really does enjoy his company.  

If only a little. 

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