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munsonmuses · 6 months ago

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Emperor Geta x Fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, gladiatorial combat, animalistic tendencies, uhhhg there’s a breeding kink. This was not proofread.

Word Count: 2.3k

Authors Comments: Iiiii was a major Roman Empire nerd as a kid, so if there’s stuff you’re like “that seemed specific” about? I promise you the research was done and I had to consult my notebooks from when I was a teeny tot (like a young teen). And yes, thumbs up signified death because it represented an upturned sword for combat, and the thumbs down signified sparing the loser, by turning your sword down to sheath

The light fabric of the linen chiton you wore felt like chains, the beautiful gold brooches holding it in place and the belt that rested low on your waist like the shackles. Leading you to a life you’d never wanted. To a future you knew you’d loathe so deeply. This wasn’t the life you’d dreamt of as a young woman. Bringing peace to an empire, marrying a man who was made perfectly for you by the gods.

All of these opportunities had been ripped from between your fingers. Your life slipped away the moment you’d heard that Emperor Geta had set his sights on you. He was callous, pompous, the human equivalent of a promenading lion. He thought nothing but the best of himself, and believed he deserved things equally as good. One of those things being you.

Your finger delicately worked on adjusting the raw leather straps of your sandals. The stephane felt like it was weighting your whole body down, veil swishing against your nape, sending chills down your spine. That the earth may swallow you whole in one fell motion was a wishful thought as you carefully examined the large hall.

It was egregious, how much gold one man could have. How many statues of himself an individual could bare to own. Slowly standing from the large chaise you’d been guided too and approaching one. tracing the curve of his nose, the apples of his cheeks. The manic look they’d managed to capture in his marble portrait, captured perfectly within the massive pupils. Scoffing lightly before hearing a laugh from behind you that caused your skin to pebble viciously. Turning around to face him.

The statue somehow didn’t manage to perfectly capture his mania. Pupils so wide they looked almost entirely black. A wolfish grin. His entire body reeked of need and want.

“You, are even more beautiful than Caracalla described…just look at you-“ his hands clamped down on your upper arms. Holding you in place as he hummed. “You’ll do nicely…” he murmured as you quirked a brow lightly.

You prayed that when you asked, he’d give you a different answer than what you’d been prepared for. Not wanting to surrender yourself to matrimony with a man so viciously bloodthirsty and self righteous. “What will I do nicely for, imperator?” You whispered as he let his eyes glaze over your body. Taking in every inch of you before nodding.

“Don’t be silly, you know what I brought you here for. I have chosen you to be my empress. Not Caracalla’s. Strictly my own.” He insisted as he moved a hand up to grip your jaw while humming. “You’ll take to the role with pride. A loving and affectionate empress…and you’ll give me my sons to lead the future of my empire once my time has come. Am I understood?” He questioned as you scoffed lightly to yourself. Fixing your rings and pulling away. Pacing the large floor of the hall as he kept his eyes on you. Ready to pounce if necessary.

“I am marrying you strictly for familial agreement. Through my loyalty for my empire and my dedication to my familial name…it has nothing to do with you.” You murmured as he sucked on his teeth lightly. You weren’t afraid of him, you saw yourself as an independent being, even a possible equal. An equal amount of hatred that matched his levels of obsession. Overall, he was clearly agitated by your lack of throwing yourself at him, the need for you to desperately present yourself to him. Though he wouldn’t push it. To get you out from under Caracalla’s thumb was difficult enough, so he’d take what he could get.

“Your chambers are prepared, you’ll be dressed for our wedding and you’ll smile. You’ll be grateful.” He ordered as you nodded, allowing the two women by the doorway to follow you out as you sighed in frustration to yourself.

These women were terrified to touch you, though they attempted to feebly conceal their terror as you hummed. Hair carefully arranged with an orange veil placed atop. Slipping into the white woven fabric of your wedding tunic, and slipped on orange sandals. Careful with them as you worked on fastening the knot of Hercules around your waist. Nodding slowly as you assessed yourself in the mirror.

It felt like lead lined your stomach as you approached the large garden, eyes meeting with Geta’s own. Your family and his court clearly anxiously awaiting your arrival. Your dowry had been exchanged, and Geta grinned delightedly at the sight of you approaching. Wringing his fingers, rings loudly knocking together as you frowned in mild fury. He was childish and cocky and self absorbed, albeit a bit handsome.

You stopped in front of him as the two of you read over the marriage contract. His eyes constantly flicking up to you as you lifted your metal pen from the inkwell. Scrawling your name with confidence as he followed suit. His hand suddenly clutching your left wrist as your head whipped to look at him. Geta removing the thick red stoned ring upon one of his fingers and slipping it onto one of your own as he hummed contentedly. Clearly awaiting reciprocation for his affections.

You carefully took his face, pressing a pursed lip kiss to his own plush pink lips as he cradled the back of your head and your waist. Satisfied with his win. Cementing your future with your new husband, as empress.

Your wedding was a few months ago, and in that time you’d been growing to know, like, and even love Geta. Although shrouded in cruel mystery, he did have a tender heart when it came to you. Gifting you lavishly, bathing you in riches and praise. You’d never gone to bed on an empty stomach, and you managed to share romantic pleasantries with him regularly.

You sat beside him as you watched a battle in the coliseum. Head perched on your fist in boredom as he smiled wide at you. The folds of your brooches and adornments complimenting the rich purples of your own robes. Your stephane crooked as his hand delicately reached up to adjust it. “Isn’t this delightful my heart?” He whispered eagerly as you scoffed in light amusement. Grinning lightly at him as you kissed his rings lightly.

“It’s alright. Gladiator fights have never…settled my nerves. If anything the bloodsport terrifies me…” you murmured as his own lips pulled into a tight frown. Though unlike usual, he didn’t have a smart or cold comment to make.

You carefully watched the two men fight, though you could barely call them that. Barely older than sixteen a piece as you chewed on your lip. The larger of the two slamming his sword into the smaller boys shield. Reminding you of the kind boys you’d known in your youth who had the whole world in front of them, stolen in war. Your heart heavy at the sight.

Geta’s eyes were trained on you. Noticing the paleness in your face, watering eyes as you left your chair to look over the edge of the balcony at these boys. Heart pounding in your ears as he sighed. He was furious, he was angry…love had “weakened” him, was what Caracalla had lamented before. But in his eyes, it simply made him better for you. Being weak for one’s own wife was impossible.

Your head whipped to look at him as the smaller boy was bloodied and bruised. Whipped to the ground by his foe as Geta stood slowly for the crowd to see.

He lifted his hand slowly, glancing over at you as his thumb rested on its side. He would typically give a thumbs up, signaling the death of the weaker boy…but instead his thumb dropped. The crowd gasping at the young man being spared at the Emperors command.

Geta’s eyes flicked to you one last time. Seeing nothing but adoration in them as he dismissed his co-contributors frustrated muttering, walking off with you to your shared chambers as he hummed in your ear.

“You’re welcome…” he whispered as you rolled your eyes lightly at him. Kissing his cheek lightly as you closed the large doors behind yourself.

With your back to him, you slowly worked on unhooking the brooches of your chiton, letting the fabric pool at your feet as you worked on removing your sandals slowly. Hearing his movements stop, eyes on you as you grinned lightly over your shoulder.

“You have shown such monumental growth…and kindness…and change, my emperor…” you whispered as you stalked towards him. His breath shaky and heavy as he carefully nodded. “I am so amazed by you…” you murmured as he watched your hands making work of the fasteners on his own tunic. It slipping down his shoulders as you smiled.

“I want…to reward you,” you murmured into his ear. Geta was a man who worked on praise, adoration and reward. He needed something for every “accomplishment” he made. This time you’d give him something more.

He let himself be lied back on your massive bed, his cock slowly hardening. Pressed to his stomach. Cheeks and chest flushed as you hummed lightly to yourself. He deserved this, even if it was simple human decency…it was a major turning point for him.

You kissed along his jaw, down his neck, his chest. Lightly nipping at his flushed skin as you worked lower and lower. Pressing kisses down his stomach and licking along the light indentations of his abs before finally paying attention to his desperate cock.

Already twitching lightly, Geta was not a hard man to work up. Lightly pressing warm, open mouthed kisses along his shaft. Tenderly massaging his balls as he whimpered lightly at your ministrations. Following your movements with frantic eyes.

He shivered lightly as he felt your lips lightly wrap around his tip. Lazily sucking and stroking the rest of his shaft lightly. Having used your kisses from earlier as a bit of lubrication. Stroking in time with your slowly bobbing head. Every few moments getting lower and lower. Relishing on the velvety feeling of his thick cock against your tongue. Finally taking your hand away and placing it on his hip. The other taking his right hand and leading it to the back of your head as he trembled lightly. “My heart…please-“ his whisper wasn’t much more than a breath.

The lewd noises of you taking him deep down your throat, slowly sucking while hollowing out your cheeks. Obediently tending to his needs as you groaned desperately against him. Your free hand trailing downward to massage your own clit as he bucked his hips lightly.

“You tease me…” he growled out. “With your desperate hands, your heavenly mouth, your body on full display…you tear me into nothing but tatters of a man…and you relish in my desperation,” he hissed as you pulled your head off.

Stroking his cock lightly as you maintained eye contact with him. Your own blown out with need and want as you continued to tend to your own clit. Sensitive bud twitching under your small, circular motions. Geta’s eyes trained on simply you. Filled with nothing but love and obsession as he growled.

Taking your wrists firmly, he pulled your hands away from both of your own sensitive bodies. Working on lying you back as he pressed his lips to your ear. “You’re a temptress…and you’ll understand just how deeply I want for you…and you’ll give me my sons,” he hissed as he worked one of your legs up around his waist. Keeping one hand on your wrists, pinned above your head as he lined himself up with your wanting cunt. Slowly easing himself into you.

You could feel every vein, every curve. A desperate moan being ripped from you as you arched your back lightly. Geta’s soft laugh and heaving breaths the only other noise you could focus on. His mouth greedily kissing along your soft skin. Nipping at your shoulders and neck. Trailing down to your breasts. Lightly taking your left nipple between his teeth. Sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud while lazily rolling his hips. Breeding you on his terms.

“Fucking…mnghhh…you’re so good~” he mumbled between mouthfuls of greedy kisses. His thrusts short and swift. Though deep enough to give that knot in your stomach a bit of reprieve. Humming contentedly to himself as he watched your lust clouded eyes. “I can’t promise that you’ll be able to do much once im finished…” he murmured as he began to focus on his thrusts.

Deep and swift, pressing deep into your twitching cunt, your wrists finally free of his grasp as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Holding him close as he fucked deeper into you. “It’s a blessing, to get to carry the future of our empire. Thank me for blessing you…” he growled out as he held your hips firmly. Your moans in time with his thrusts as you struggled to form a single coherent thought.

“Fuck!…thank you, for allow-…allowing me to carry your heirs, and the future of Rome!” Your voice cracked between moans as he laughed lightly. Working on bringing you to your orgasm as he hummed.

Your body felt like it was ablaze, each thrust causing that knot to unravel further and further. Whimpering in desperation and squawking desperately before letting your head fall back. His name spilling past your lips before feeling that knot come undone. Mouth falling open in incoherent babbles as Geta fucked you through your orgasm. Making sure you were thoroughly satisfied and gritting his teeth.

Unable to hold himself back much longer, his thrusts became short and swift before he hilted himself deep within you and came. His own mutters just broken up syllables of your name, trembling arms, and weak kisses along your skin. His body collapsing upon your own as he pressed hot and gentle kisses to your skin.

“I love you…” he murmured, allowing his eyes to close as you lightly combed through his hair. Your own growing heavy as you sighed.

“I love you too…”

#emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn #Joseph Quinn Cinematic Universe #JQCU #addiewrites #gladiator 2 #gladiator Joseph Quinn #emperor geta just one chance please

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multific · 19 days ago

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Golden Empress

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: He loved to you dress you in gold and jewels. And you loved to give him little pushes in the right direction.

Gold and gems showed status.

Your husband was adamant on the fact that you must have it all.

Geta and you have been promised to one another at a young age.

You two met when you were only children and married when you reached the age his father saw fit.

Not long after your wedding, Geta and Caracalla rose to rule.

And so, you became the Empress.

The people loved you. After you took a visit at the local market and helped a lost child find her mother.

The people saw you as the kind and beautiful Empress.

You were proud, you were in a position many wished to be.

Not to mention, you fell in love with Geta.

All it took was one kind moment.

One moment where he showed some affection towards you.

Genuine affection.

And you were hooked.

He might be a cruel man, but deep down, he was intelligent and collected.

---

You looked at yourself in the reflection you barely recognized yourself.

You were dripping in gold.

Took you a moment to realize, it wasn't only you standing there it was the Empress.

Your jewelry, your dress and even your hair had elements of gold.

It was your husband's request.

Hoping to make you look like a Goddess.

And it worked if you were honest.

You looked stunning, even you could admit that.

With pride filling you, you walked down the hall, your servants following you, adjusting your dress when needed.

Acacius arrived back from yet another successful war.

As you walked outside, Caracalla was already there waiting.

"Ah, Sister! Ever so stunning. My brother is indeed lucky." Caracalla said with a childish laugh.

"You flatter me, Brother." you weren't sure why he insisted on calling you sister, you had no blood relation. But you also didn't mind. Caracalla was so different from your husband. You enjoyed chatting with him.

Your relationship ensured his and Geta's. Being a form of bridge between the two brothers.

Emperor Geta soon joined you, holding your hand he kissed your hand and you smiled at him.

"My Stunning Wife." he said with a voice only you heard.

"My Handsome Emperor."

Soon you three turned as the people of Rome cheered, their beloved General was back.

Standing next to your husband, you couldn't be more proud.

---

Your eyes followed Geta as he walked up and down the room.

Caracalla retired to his room.

"Geta."

"How dare they?! We helped them." he turned to look at you and you smiled at him.

"I don't believe they are the only ones who betrayed you. Macrinus... the look in his eyes." you knew Geta just needed a little push, and you were ready to give it to him. "The way he looks at me... as if he wants me to be his." you watched Geta's eyes change.

It worked.

Your little push to get what you feel best.

"Are you certain?" he asked carefully and you nodded, just give him another little nudge.

"He looks at me as if I was naked. As if he wished I was naked for him." maybe that was too much.

But it worked.

"No one is allowed to look at you like that." he yelled as he put his hand under your chin making you look at him. "No one."

He pulled you in for a kiss.

---

The next day you once again wore a stunning golden dress.

You watched as Acacius and Hanno fought.

In the end, both died at the other's sword.

Causing the people to riot.

"People of Rome! Your Empress wishes to speak!" the announcer yelled and everyone looked at you.

You stood up and walked to stand besides your husband.

"People of the Empire. The Emperors do not take kindly to traitors. As you just witnessed. Your beloved General, who dared to plot a sick plan to kill your Emperors and me. All while I'm with child!" Geta stood up from his seat. "Let us celebrate! The death of our traitors and my pregnancy!"

It took the crowd two minutes before they started chanting.

You calmed them. You took your seat by Geta once more.

"Is it true?" Geta asked as you looked at him.

"No. Unfortunately not."

"Sister! Truly wicked!" laughed Caracalla.

"I needed to say something." you tried to justify your words but Geta understood.

"You might not be pregnant now, but I can help you with that." you laughed a little at Geta's words.

"What about Macrinus?" you asked.

"You will not see him. At least not in one piece." Geta ensured and you pulled on his robes to kiss him.

You might have lied to your people, you might have not been pregnant.

But they didn't need to know that just yet.

For now, all you cared about was your husband and his well-being.

Your golden dress shined in the sunlight as you sat there with Geta. People around you cheering and celebrating.

You might not be a Goddess but you were the Golden Empress.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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nadas-dirthalen · 6 days ago

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Societal Change in Dragon Age: the Veilguard

I've seen a lot of posts about how Veilguard doesn't really "move the needle" with Thedas' politics, so to speak. While this isn't a callout of any specific one of them (note the lack of links! this isn't about anyone), I wanted to talk about some changes I saw during my first two runs of Veilguard.

I also want to say that a lot of the changes we saw happen in the world of Inquisition also did not involve direct input from the Inquisitor. Dorian, for instance, was always going to go back to Tevinter and make change. The mage-templar war reaches a peaceful(ish) ending no matter which side the Inquisitor chooses to back. The Chantry moves forward after Justinia's death no matter who becomes Divine. The nobles are mad no matter who is made emperor/empress of Orlais. The Dalish flock to Fen'Harel after Trespasser no matter what.

That said... here's what I can remember off the top of my head.

Arlathan Forest and the Elves:

The Dalish got their land back. While the real-world Land Back movement is (obviously!) far more complex and far-reaching than can be portrayed within a companion quest in a video game, the fact remains: in my playthrough, not only did the Veil Jumpers (and by extension, the Dalish) get Arlathan Forest back, the magic there also stabilized. (Editing Note: this stabilization is implied through the slide with high faction strength, and stated outright in the ending with low faction strength, which says, "For the Veil Jumpers, the fall of the last elven gods left raw magic and chaos in its wake." Rook, therefore, decides whether Arlathan is habitable or not, since Arlathan's magic is described as fatal for most people during banter with a Veil Jumper Rook.)

The elves potentially also get their ancient knowledge back. Depending on what you chose for the Nadas Dirthalen, the Dalish potentially got a lot of their old technology and knowledge back, potentially putting them even further ahead in terms of magical technology than Tevinter in some areas.

... Or the Veil Jumpers chose a different path forward for the elves. If the Nadas Dirthalen was kept hidden, Rook and Bellara chose a path where the Dalish refuse to become like their predecessors, forever changing the path of Dalish reclamation efforts. The Dalish, then, become something other than what their ancestors were. Either way, the Dalish are significantly impacted.

(if the griffons were given back to Arlathan) An apex predator was returned to Arlathan. If you want to read more about how cool of a change this is, I suggest reading about how cool it is that wolves were reintroduced to Yellowstone.

(added in edits) The truth about the Evanuris is well-known, or will be soon. Davrin says that while he did not notify many Dalish about the truth of the Evanuris during the events of Veilguard, it is the Veilguard's duty to inform them after. The same will likely prove true with Andrastians, and the Chantry at large. The truth will soon come to light—and even though rapid religious change has already been undergone once because of the cause of the Blights (Tevinter moved away from the worship of their old gods, save for the Venatori, because their old gods were the archdemons spearheading the Blights), the elves are already victims of prejudice in Thedas. The Chantry's response to the truth will likely be influenced by that prejudice. HOWEVER, it is my firm belief that the Evanuris also exist in the Chant of Light as the Maker's first children, and that truth being revealed or uncovered simultaneously has the potential to change the shape of the public's response across Thedas.

Kal-Sharok, Orzammar, and the Dwarves:

The titans' history has been remembered. Remember in Descent where it was said very prominently that Orzammar had struck all memories of the titans? That something political was motivating how the titans were entirely forgotten about? Now, thanks to the events of Veilguard, there is no turning back. No amount of suppression can make the world forget the titans now.

DWARVES. HAVE. MAGIC. NOW. Read that ending slide again! "The dwarven people rediscovering their lost magic, and their connection to the Stone." This is something the dwarven people have not had for literal millennia, and it's thanks to ROOK and HARDING that this change has taken root! Not Valta, but Rook!

Kal-Sharok continues to become more known to the world after being sealed off. We continue to get closer to understanding exactly what happened to Kal-Sharok after it was sealed off, and this is going to inform our understanding of the titans and the blight even more as time goes on.

Healing the titans has huge implications for the existence of red lyrium. Between Solas doing what he can (in his good endings) to soothe the blight's anger and (more importantly) dwarves connected to the Stone like Harding doing work to soothe the titans' anger on Thedas itself, we will likely see red lyrium gradually fade away all across Thedas.

The caste system of the dwarves is likely to be impacted by recent revelations. Regardless of what, exactly, is chosen going forward, it is clear the dwarves will take a good look at their own beliefs and practices about the Stone now that the truth about the titans has come to light. Their feelings about surface dwarves versus those who live purely underground are likely to be impacted here! I can't wait to see dwarf politics in DA5!

The Grey Wardens & Weisshaupt:

The Wardens don't hear the Calling anymore thanks to Rook's actions. You know... the thing that defines the life of a Warden? The thing that shortens their lifespan? That's gone. This has been a PILLAR of their organization since Origins, and the absence of the Calling is absolutely going to lead to massive change within the Wardens.

The blight is less virulent—AKA, it is greatly weakened, and has died in some parts of Thedas. Yes, completely. Read that again. Read that as many times as it takes for it to sink in. The blight has been a huge, looming threat for over one thousand years. For the first time ever, it is on its way out. Perhaps for good.

For the first time, new growth is coming back to the Anderfels and other blighted areas on Thedas. Discovering this—and keeping the Wardens alive long enough to discover this—is forever going to change the directives of the Wardens and the lands that were previously too blighted to thrive. The Anderfels, we know, are coming back to life—but some other zones that come to mind here are the Silent Plains, parts of Antiva, Denerim... anywhere a Blight ended in the past, or anywhere that the blight completely overtook in the past.

Minrathous:

An abolitionist sits on the Archon's throne!!! For the first time ever, someone who wants to end slavery is the head of Tevinter government. This is a huge step forward for the movement to end Tevinter slavery, which has had to exist in the shadows more or less until now (which we see even in the upper echelons of the altus class, in Maevaris, who was kicked out of the Magisterium for her anti-slavery views).

(added in edits) The Imperial Divine is also an abolitionist. While I did not include this point earlier because Rook has no hand in selecting Ashur/the Viper as the Divine, it is important context by the game's ending. Having abolitionists as Archon and Divine means there is tremendous potential for rapid, popular change in Tevinter. I am very excited to see where this goes in DA5!

The blight died in Minrathous when Elgar'nan was slain. Not just eased. Died. Because Minrathous was the epicenter for what happened to the Veil and the blight at the time, all blight in the city is dead. This proves that the blight can truly be ended, as well as cured. That's not secret knowledge anymore, if all of Minrathous knows it.

Treviso:

The Crows have been changed by Teia and Viago's actions during Veilguard. No matter if Treviso is blighted or not, Teia and Viago have brought the Crows into a different sphere than perhaps they were under Talons like Aranai in Origins. The Crows have a direct part to play not just in the governance of Antiva (which we knew about) but the governance of individual cities and even the organization of Antiva's military power. This was less prevalent before Veilguard (because we weren't in Antiva, but also because Antiva didn't have a Blight to defend against), but now that the Crows have stood against the Final Blight, there's no going back from the precedent their actions have set.

The Crows have a new First Talon—one who will undoubtedly bring reform. While Lucanis is no stranger to murder and there's no doubt in my mind that the Crows will continue doing just that, Teia and Viago now have a lot more pull within the Crows (and their humanitarian efforts by extension) because one of their closest allies is now First Talon.

Rivain & the Antaam:

An influx of former Antaam are potentially joining the existing Qunari in Rivain. By appealing to Antaam deserters, Taash and their allies are showing that there is a life possible for kossith (Qunari) outside of the teachings of the Qun—without attacking/invading under the orders of the Arishok. We have not seen this on this grand a scale before, and it will be fascinating to see what ripple effect this has on the rest of Qunari culture.

There is a gap left by the Antaam within Qunari society, too. While not tackled upfront in Veilguard, the fact remains that one of the three pillars of Qunari society left the Qun. Whether this is the entirety of the Antaam or a significant part of its forces, I don't know, but this will have destabilized the Qunari and will open the way for a lot of questions and change within their own society, too.

Knowledge about the adaari and about who the Qunari were before Thedas is emerging. We've seen with the elves and dwarves that when this kind of history is revealed over time, great changes happen within societies in Thedas. I can't wait to see what that means for the kossith/Qunari!

The Necropolis & the Mourn Watch:

The Mourn Watch are aware that an entire lineage of people on Thedas were spirits that took physical shape by crafting bodies made of lyrium. Knowledge of spirits has tremendously shifted. This changes the understanding of what a spirit even is, versus the soul of a living person.

(if Manfred is alive) It is increasingly apparent that spirits "grow" and mature in the same way that living children do, becoming more complex over time. This has big implications for the recognition of spirits as their own sort of people—not just in Nevarra, but everywhere.

It will soon become more common knowledge that the existence of the Veil is what ended elven immortality. This changes everything that the Mourn Watch knows about what mortality even is!

With the blight less virulent, it is possible that other cultures in Thedas start burying their dead, rather than cremating them. This could lead to a widespread rise in necromancy and/or Nevarran belief!

Orlais:

Orlais endured a rebellion of its noble class. While we can presume that their monarch survived it (and therefore probably cemented themselves as an effective leader, surviving the Final Blight and rebellion), there is just as much to be said for if they did not survive it (which would throw Orlais into political turmoil all over again). Either way, Orlais looks different as a political power going forward.

Val Royeaux—the seat of the Southern Chantry and its Divine—fell. While listed as under rebel control, I think there is just as much to be said here: the Orlesian people were likely shaken by the fall of Val Royeaux, and combined with the knowledge that will come of the Evanuris, the titans, and the Andrastian faith after the events of Veilguard, I can see a shift in how Andrastianism is perceived in Orlais, and the South as a whole.

Ferelden:

The Chasind and Avvar have allied themselves with Fereldan leaders, a shift from their former lives secluded from other Fereldan humans after a prior history of conflict with them.

Ferelden made an attempt at peace with Orlais. Whether this attempt was answered remains unclear due to communication difficulties during the worst of the Final Blight, but the Fereldan envoys were not attacked outright. This suggests that tensions between Ferelden and Orlais cooled, if even a little bit. However, it is unclear if this will remain true, given that Orlais might be in a weaker position than Ferelden due to this late lapse in communication.

Free Marches:

The Free Marches united under Prince Vael. From a quick look at the wiki, it's been 700 years since unification was even attempted.

The Free Marches fared better against the Blight than Orlais and Ferelden, and were even marching south to lend aid to Ferelden by the game's finale.

And there you have it! That's what I can think of that has changed in Thedas, either because of Rook or not because of Rook, in Veilguard. And again: many changes in Inquisition were either not the Inquisitor's choice (like Dorian going home, or the truth of the Evanuris being revealed over time) or did not have consequences that led into the next game (even in DAI's epilogue, before Veilguard, the nobles are upset whether Celene or Gaspard are on the throne).

But one thing is true: whether you enjoyed Veilguard or not, it is not true that nothing happened during the game. Much did! The Veil may not have come down, and Rook may not have had an omniscient perspective looking down on Thedas at changes outside their immediate scope, but the world did change around them.

#dragon age #dragon age lore #dragon age theorycrafting #dragon age: the veilguard #da:tv #da:v #da:ve #veilguard spoilers #da meta #long post

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gracieheartspedro · 1 month ago

Text

Propositio

pairing: marcus acacius x afab! reader (daughter of marcus aurelius)

word count: 6k words

description: after assembling an army to win back rome, you finally get to confront the traitor to your cause. general marcus acacius.

warnings: DUBCON. this is for 18+ readers ONLY. lots of blood mentioned, marcus is mean, talks of execution, physical violence, choking, name-calling, manipulation (reader is manipulative, he is too), betrayal, misogyny, proposing a horny ultimatum, nicknames (little dove), unprotected p in v, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), he finishes inside you, he leaves blood prints on you, talking you through it, you and marcus are unhinged. (please let me know if I missed anything or mistagged)

dedication: my sweet sweet @amanitacowboy !! thank you for helping me with this, lindsey! you saved my ass by helping me edit this and your encouragement really got me through writing all of this. *MWAH* forehead kiss

author’s note: you whores asked, and I delivered. now please be kind and share and leave a comment!! you guys rock!!

You never thought you would see the day when Marcus Acacius would be behind iron bars. But here you are, standing before the slated door, watching him with his face in his hands. He looked despicable, completely unknowing of the situation in the city's streets.

“You care to stand for your Empress?”

His big brown eyes lift from his fingers, glaring at you. He easily recognized your voice, it was something that was imprinted in his mind. “Empress?”

You smirked at his absentminded statement, trying your best not to show your pleasure in hearing him call you that.

“Rome has fallen, General. And you are here. Shameful that I had to do this all on my own when I inquired to you about a months time.”

He stands up slowly, his tunic and face stained with blood and dirt. He had wounds littering his arms and legs, all dripping blood onto the sandy ground. You could only imagine the horrors he experienced at the hands of the twin emperors. You had no time to grieve for him though, because he is now trying to size you up through the cell. It makes your lips curve up.

“I would have been inclined to help you, but I was too occupied fighting for my life,” He bites, gritting his teeth.

Your eyes rake him up and down, noting his beaten-down expression. You have spent so long resenting the man who lied to you, that finally getting to stare him in the face was gratifying. He was already paying for his consequences, and not even at your hand.

“I was, too, General. I put together an army of eight thousand strong. For a woman, I did well.”

He puts his arms through the rails, leaning forward. His hands are close to you, but not close enough to touch you. He looks so different from what you remember. Maybe it’s the new scars that litter his face, one particularly on his right cheekbone. The struggle for power and the war he waged seemed to have caused some fine lines as well.

He is not the same soldier you knew years before.

“Now that you rule Rome, what is your first move? Kill all the loyalists?” His voice is gruff, almost like he had something caught in his throat.

You had pondered this day for so long. You were hopeful he was still alive so he could watch you do everything you had planned to do. You remember him telling you that you would make a great ruler someday, but that would probably never happen since you were a woman. He liked to remind you of that often.

You felt the urge to get in his space and pester him, as you had done time and time again.

You turn away from him, looking around the tables that surround you, searching for a way to get closer to him. You spot a ring of iron keys and snatch them up. You go through each one, finding one that matches the keyhole. You hear a click as soon as you turn it, the door sliding open. Instead of letting him come out, you stand in his space. All that occupies the room is a wooden bench, a small window, and a table with an empty bowl.

“These quarters meeting your standards?”

The iron door shuts on its own, rattling as it locks itself. Marcus grimaces, annoyed with your words about him and his situation. “Are you planning on keeping me in here?”

You cross your arms, completely disregarding his question. You did not feel like appeasing him that quickly. “The bench should be a bit softer for your aging back. I am positive you are not getting good sleep.”

The Marcus you knew before was polite and calculated. This Marcus was tired and unhinged. As soon as he notes your condescending tone, he realizes how easy it would be to kill you in the privacy of his cell. You would never expect that from him, he thought.

He reaches out, grabs your shoulders, and slams you against the dirt walls. Luckily, your head does not slam against the mud, only your back.

The air leaves your lungs as Marcus pins you. You were not expecting such a response, but you stayed unwavering in your expression. You already had your reasonings for being bitter towards the man. You were now ensuring he would never do another malicious thing towards you and that meant putting him in his place.

“You evil conniving whore,” He seethes, as you try to push out a breath. When you finally bring air back into your chest, you laugh out, your breath hitting his face.

“Talking dirty to me, General? I thought you were a gentleman.”

He grunts, wrapping his large hand around your neck. You know this is compromising, dangerous even, but you knew deep down that if he killed you, he would only be hurting himself. Rome needed you. He knew that better than anyone else.

“What are you going to do? Tell me,” He seethes, his fingers squeezing harder the more the seconds pass.

You try to speak, but he’s cutting off a lot of your air. You wedge your hands in between your bodies, pushing his chest back a bit. He was so warm. “Kill the loyalists. And for this, I may kill you.”

He grits his teeth, “You are not going to kill me.”

“You do not know me very well then, General.”

He removes his hand, knowing very well he bruised your neck in the process of getting information out of you. He is still very close to you as you catch your breath, fanning his sweaty hair off his forehead. He is trying to read you, but for some reason, your coldness informs him of nothing. Your intentions were usually blatant. Not today.

“What good does killing me do?” He inquires, his arms still caging you in. You cannot lie that you check out his muscular arms as you think about your next statement, considering that he’s more built than he was when you saw him years ago.

Marcus was always enjoyable to look at, but in this very moment, you could not stand the sight of his conflicted expressions. You did not understand why he was rattled and confused. He had no right to be.

Suddenly you are back in the juncture where you found out the Senate knew about your impending invasion. You had only told one person inside Rome of your grand plans and he was supposed to be helping you.

But instead, he was the one who informed the council. Your blood boiled at the horrid information. You had to get revenge. The General needed to pay.

“I do not bode well with traitors, General. You betrayed me.”

He scoffs, his eyes trained on your lips, “You know well I did not intentionally try to eradicate your plan. It worked anyway, why does it matter now?”

“You told the Senate that I was raising an army, am I correct in that assumption?”

“No, I told one Senator, one I thought I could trust, that I was aiding you to raise an army. It got me locked in this hell.” He gestures to his surroundings, finally backing away from your space. “I did not want to intentionally ruin this. You know that I would have done anything to see another Aurelius guide the Empire into what it should be. You are the hope Rome still has left.”

Your family history was the only way you had a pathway to be the Empress. You were technically the last of your family and you knew that would be your path to the position of the Roman Ceasar. Plus, Rome adored your Father. He was the greatest ruler Rome ever had. You had his heart and his compassion, unlike your older brother who ended up dead in the middle of the Coliseum due to his hunger for power. Your sister was practically useless when she lost her son, so it was up to you and you alone.

When the Twins took over Rome, you knew you had run away to farther lands to raise an army, appealing to every land that if you were not to aid them, they would get eliminated by Rome’s tyranny. Within 3 years, you had many countries and armies by your side, ready to take over the empire in your name.

Once the Twins knew of your plan, they sprang into action. They wanted your head. You had to fight to get into the walls of Rome and every soldier was directed to kill you at first sight. You had some close calls but you were decent with a sword and your guards were even better with theirs. Once you got to the steps of the palace, by some stroke of luck, the Twins were already dead. The rumor had spread that you were taking back Rome and the citizens took care of the last task you had without even asking.

You raise your chin, not giving in to Marcus’ game, “You almost got me killed. For that, I cannot forgive you.”

He winces a bit, putting his hands on his hips. “You never were very forgiving.”

“Hm, you perceive me well,” You sneer, trying your best not to take note of the ache around your neck. You bring your hand up to feel out the irritation. Marcus zeros in on your motions, smiling a bit.

“I was stuck looking after you for many years, remember? I know you better than you know yourself, little one.”

You think back to the days of being an obsessive young woman who was looked after by many guards during your father’s reign. Your favorite was always Marcus. He would let you get away with the most chaos. He was about ten years your senior. He knew it would be easier to let your childish nature roll off his shoulders than try to reprimand you. The few times you remember, you begged him to let you hold his sword and he refused telling you, ‘Women do not carry such weapons’. So instead of giving up on the conquest, you snuck into his sleeping quarters and stole it. When you showed off to a bunch of drunk soldiers, you thought Marcus’ face could not get any redder. He was so mad at you that he almost cursed you in front of your father.

You sickly enjoyed aggravating the man. Always have, always will.

You were starting to realize that you had a very broad history with the soldier. How were you to kill him?

“Tell me, Marcus. How would you like me to do it?”

He is quick with his response, “Do what, exactly?”

“How do you want me to kill you?”

He shakes his head, recognizing the look on your face, which suggests that you are only toying with the idea and are in conflict with yourself.

“You are not going to.”

You begin to realize you are showing too much honest emotion. He is too quick to notice such things about you, which annoyed you quite a bit.

You smile, trying to flip him off your trail. “But I am, General.”

“You are not going to kill me, girl. I will not die under your hand.”

He is not backing down, which only frustrates you further. You step past him, getting a big whiff of blood flooding your nostrils as you do. The unfortunate man has not bathed in weeks. The blood staining his body is probably of dozens of different men.

You peek out the iron bars to see that you two are still alone. You had three guards standing by not too far from the exit of the cells, but you instructed them not to follow you in.

“Then how would you like it? Another man’s hand?” You are silent for a moment, turning back to him, “I have a whole army.”

“Are they here now?”

He glances around his quarters, pondering how he is going to get out of this situation. You watch him carefully calculate his next move. His hand palms his face and his growing facial hair. He finally eyes you and you can tell he is getting tired. He knows he has only one choice.

“What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?”

You snicker, knowing he is going to have to do more than ask for forgiveness. You sickly want to watch him appeal for your mercy. “Get on your knees and beg.”

“I am not begging.”

“Then you die.”

He saunters over to you, his dirty fingers reaching up and tracing the hair on your arms. You take note that he’s touching you more cautiously than he was moments before. “I told you that I did not intentionally betray you.”

You stare down at his movements on your bare skin. “And I told you I do not care of what your intentions were.”

He smirks, cocking his eyebrow up. He knows that you will show some mercy to him because deep down, you could not stand the idea of losing him. He was a part of you, whether you liked it or not.

“You will let me live. You are going to let me lead the army like I once did,” He remarks, very certain of himself.

You scoff, tilting your head back, “You sound sure of yourself, Marcus. I do not think you understand-“

“Do you not remember telling me that I was the only man you trusted with your mind, body, and soul? What happened to that woman?”

It was something you had told him years before after he finally gave in and fucked you. It was probably the best night of your life, having him ravish you and please you. In a lustful conversation, you informed him that you only trusted him with your entire being. Looking back, you were a bit too vulnerable. You visibly cringe remembering it.

As you scan his face, your annoyance for him only grows as he uses that moment as a pawn in his appeal to get out of this.

“That was before, this is now.”

“So you lied, too,” His fingers drag up and down your arm, his nails leaving marks as he does, “Why would you lie to me?”

You know that he is trying to flip the circumstances back on you. While the manipulation was easily sensed, you could not help but continue to entertain it. Privately, you thrived on the disorder of it all. Marcus was the only man who could talk this way to you. He did know you very well.

“You know this is not the same. The entire army of Rome had orders to behead me. That happened because of your gossip.”

He shakes his head, his dirty curls taking up space on his forehead again, “It is to me. You said I was the only man worthy of protecting you. If I were not held up in a cell, I would have ended this war before it even began.”

“I do not wish for your protection, not anymore.”

He did not anticipate you resisting his every advancement. You usually cowered your head and accepted whatever retort he gave back, but this time, you were ready with a riposte immediately.

He coughs out a laugh, “You will when the entire Roman army turns against you. All I do is say the words.”

You knew that Rome would bow to you without resistance. His army had heard too many awful things about him by now. He was down in the pits for treason. You knew that he was only saying this to get back in your good graces. Deep down, you had already decided that this argument was useless. Marcus may have deceived you, but you know he would have never deliberately given you up. It would make no sense for his safety, also. By the looks of it, he fought for a long while to stay alive in the Coliseum.

But you wanted to get him to believe that you still could not trust him, just to put him on edge. You desired some revenge after such emotional turmoil.

“They would never betray me,” You reply, bringing your hands together in front of your stomach. You wait for him to take the bait.

Marcus notices your lip twitch. You are bluffing and he is unsure why you would be trying to stir up his emotions. You were good at bringing him no peace and since he was so exhausted and hungry, he was getting angrier than he was accustomed to.

He sighs, trying to blow off some of the steam rising to his face. “They have gotten more loyal to me during this previous reign. They would be rather disappointed to find me dead by your hand. You will not kill me.”

You stare at him, your lips pursed in faux contemplation.

“You are right. I will not.”

The response throws him off balance. He stumbles a bit. “What?” “Instead, I will have someone else do it. I will watch them as they give you a soldier’s death. A beautiful shining blade at the very top of your spine,” You walk closer to him, your hands still adjoined at the bottom of your abdomen. “Slicing you all the way down your midsection. I will enjoy watching the blood spill out, staining the marble floors of the palace.”

He steps towards you, his jaw clenched. He is sick of the back and forth when he knows you will not make good on your plans. He is peering at you suspiciously before his hand reaches up to your soft cheek. For some odd reason, you believe he will be gentle. But he is not. He grabs your face roughly, squishing your cheeks against your back teeth. “I am beginning to lose my patience. Are you sure you want to do this, little dove?”

The nickname. It was something he used to call you when you two were intimate all those years ago. He saw you as a delicate thing back then. The woman you had morphed into was foreign to him. You were more maddening than ever.

“I will do whatever is good for the Republic, General.”

He uses all his strength to shove you backward into the bench. Your ass falls against the wooden plank that Marcus had been sleeping on for a fortnight. The wood is rough against your thin vein of fabric.

The shock of his violence sends wetness pooling between your legs. You had only seen Marcus rough with you once and it was never to this degree. He may have given in to you with aggressive and unforgiving hips, but this was another level of hostility. Your heart begins to race as he stands over you, his tanned body heaving in frustration.

He squints at you, “Good for the Republic, huh? What good is a dirty little whore to the Republic?”

You try your best not to give in at this moment. And Marcus knows it. Your face twists, your nose pointing upward like you used to when you were a young woman. He suddenly recalls a moment where you were being reprimanded by someone of higher rank and you had crossed your arms over your chest and crinkled your nose like you inhaled something awful. It was a facial expression he would never forget. A simple indication that you were wrong and someone else was correct.

You are noticing the way his eyes are tracing your face and you try to keep yourself as still as possible. “You are speaking to your Empress, Marcus.”

His eyes rake your body, almost like he is looking for something. He smiles, “My Empress who I am aware has a dagger stored somewhere on her body and yet she has not used it on me yet. Why is that?”

You are not ready for what is next on Marcus’ mind. He pushes your thighs apart with his knee, forcing you to look at him again by aggressively holding onto your face again. You wince when his filthy fingernails dig into your cheeks.

“Marcus-”

“Why have you not already plunged your dagger into my heart if you want me gone? Why do you need someone else to do your work?”

He is mocking you, his tone not giving you a break in the slightest. Somewhere deep down, Marcus knows something is up. With the way your body is giving into his every move, he can tell your intentions were simple: to make him the fool.

And you were doing a very good job. Because he is getting very antsy. You pull your head back, trying to add some distance between him and yourself. But his face is so close to yours, that you can smell the metallic scent of blood from his skin. Your eyes avert away, not wanting him to finally look inside and read your mind.

You manage to muster up something. “Because I still very much enjoy watching you writhe under my thumb.”

He is seething, his face is beet red. The way you are positioned, so impurely before him, brings his hateful aggression to full-blown rageful desire.

He is eager with his movements and you are fallen at his mercy. Within only a few moments, he is hiking up your stola moving the fabric away from your lower half. You groan out as soon as his fingers grope you. You believe every breath has left your body.

He chuckles darkly to himself, “Me? Writhe under your thumb? Is that so? You only came here to watch me suffer?”

“Yes-” “You believe some impish whore, like yourself, can here and make me completely fall apart? Hm? How about I load myself in that pussy of yours and we see who truly falls apart first?”

He was not wrong with his words, but they were so unhinged. You had never heard Marcus talk like this to you. While he was quick with his language, he was still always very respectable.

His proposition was not completely unwelcome.

“You do not know what I want. Why are you doing this?”

You try to manage as he spreads around your dampness with his fingers. You had not been touched like this in so long so you were easily swayed why the action. You lull your head back, making it pretty obvious that you did want this.

He hums to himself, watching your body squirm under him. “Do I not? Here you are, so easily taken down by me, a traitor. What kind of emperor falls to her knees for a man who allegedly betrayed her? What good chance will Rome have with a leader like that?”

You watch as he tears up the fabric, completely revealing your naked core up to your lower breastplate. He stares down at the state of you, grinning to himself wickedly. You can not think of a single word to say to him, so you just lament with your hands at your side.

He strips off his tunic, leaving him in just his subligaculum. The cloth was tented by the strain of his hard-pressed cock.

His body was covered in blood and dirt, the tunic not absorbing all of the fluids from his battles. His skin is splattered with it. He watches you stare at it intently, huffing out.

“So what will we do, Empress? How about… If you fall apart first, I am free. If I release first, you kill me. How about that?”

You watch as he palms his cock over the cloth. Your mouth starts to overproduce saliva as you observe his action. You knew you were not going to win such a thing, and that is completely okay with you. Marcus knew this, too. The last time you two were intimate, he inserted himself into you for a whole minute before you were squeezing around him and begging for more.

“That is a deal I can agree with, General.”

He nods arrogantly before he grabs your hips, kneading the flesh. You watch him spread his bloodstained hands all around your legs, hinging your knees with his forearms.

“Do not even need to warm you up,” He uses his left hand to guide his cock through your seeping folds.

You do not prefer the sound of no foreplay, but you do not think it is your time to say anything. As soon as your lips open, Marcus dribbles spit down between your bodies, landing perfectly right at your slit. It’s obscene, his actions. But instead of gasping at the immortality of it, you are breathing out in pleasure. His member splits you open, every ridge pressing against your insides.

“Marcus, my Gods,” You whine, trying to gain some sense. “I need your fingers first.”

He scrunches his nose, guiding himself into the hilt. “No, you do not. You will take me like this first.”

“Marcus-” “And after I watch you fall apart on me, I am going to,” He pulls his cock out of you begrudgingly slow, “Make you fall apart on my mouth. And then when I get two out of you, I will fuck you again with my cock. When my seed spills inside you and leaks down your legs, I will send you out to the streets and have you clear my name.”

And then he slams into you again. He is very girthy, which is a lot for your untouched cunt. You had no formal stretching before he entered you, so it hurts a bit as he speeds up his incursion inside you.

He plants his hands right on your hips, his hands expanding down your side. With the way your head is propped up on the wall, you are practically forced into watching him fuck you with such vigorous speed. He’s animalistic. His hands leave blood prints on your body, sticky and off-putting.

You are so enamored with him, that you do not even begin teetering on the edge of your release. He notices this as your cunt squeezes his member, which encourages him to speed up his pistoning hips.

“Oh, dove, I feel you,” He extends his thumb down to the very top of your slit, “Your flower is just seizing around me. You are about to cum.”

You try to tense up a bit, but your body feels weightless. “No. No, I can not.”

You can not stop what is impending. He rubs circles on your sensitive bud, sending your back lurching away from the wall.

“Ah, yes, that’s right, dove. Release on my cock. You know you want to,” He is gritting his teeth, eyes gazing directly into yours.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, trying to hold back, but him grinding into you sends you over. A scream rips through your body as you careen forward towards his shoulders. You hold on to him like he is going to dissipate away, grabbing at his back. Your climax is white hot almost as if your entire body was lit on fire and quickly extinguished.

“There it is…” He fucks you through it all, his thrusts slowing as you relax yourself against the wall again. “I win.”

His words set you off. The high of your release is now ruined by his statement. Your arms are still lazily around his shoulders. You glare up at him, seeing his smug smirk painting his lips. It’s truly sinful.

You use all your strength and pull him down towards your lips. You capture him in a kiss that you almost believe he is going to pull away from but does not. You just want him to stop speaking for a moment so you settle with the reality of the situation. You would have to face Rome and tell them that the traitor is being let off for his crimes against you.

You were still better than the alternate reality of Rome. Under the Twins, they would see no peace. With you, the only chaos you would pursue is General Marcus Acacius. You could live with that.

He tilts his head back, trying to pull away from your mouth. You lock your arm around him, holding him there a moment longer. His lips manage to trail away.

“You won this. But I won Rome.”

He chuckles at your statement before reminding you of his promise, “I am not done yet, Dove.”

His tacky fingers grab you roughly, lifting you off the bench and towards the table across the dirt floor room. He places your feet on the ground, your back to his much taller figure. His cock is still solid, pressing right into your buttcheek.

“Bend over.”

You practically snap your neck trying to look back at the man.

He does not take kindly to that, using his hand to push your face to look towards the wall again. “Do what I say. I already told you what I was to do.”

You lean your body over the furniture, holding onto the edge as you feel Marcus’ hands slide across your back, all the way down to your ass. You hear a commotion but you are too afraid of what he may do if you look back. You then realize he’s on his knees behind you. When he settles in the dust, he uses both hands to spread you open. He wastes no time, diving face-first into your dripping core. Your cunt is already so sensitive that when you feel his tongue flattening between your slit, you cannot help but squeal.

Your sounds provoke Marcus to think back to the nights when he was alone on the front lines of war, lying in his tent, thinking about the first time he tasted you. You had never experienced pleasure like that, and he vividly remembers pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you with his tongue. It was his favorite thing about your intimate times together. The memory was enough to have him erupting all over his stomach night after night.

And now here you are again, right under his thumb. Or rather, his tongue.

“My Gods, Marcus, please.”

His ministrations change from eager licks to suckling on your most sensitive bud. Obscene wet noises begin reverberating off the walls, filling the room with such crudeness. His nose is pressed into you, sucking in your sweet scent.

You silently prayed that no others heard you two.

The warmth in your stomach fills again. Your legs feel like they may give out from under you. Luckily, Marcus has his hands right where your thighs begin, spreading you open, but also holding you up. When the wave of pleasure hits, your legs shake and your throat lets out a guttural moan.

He licks up whatever your body offers him before he is back on his feet. His chest presses into your back as he traces the outline of your body with his digits. You feel so winded from your comedown, that you can hardly say anything. Marcus’ face creeps to the side of yours, nudging your cheek with his nose.

“You taste like heaven, little dove.”

His words are such a drastic shift from what he was saying to you before. But while his words were charming, his actions were still brute. He reaches down to his swollen cock head and begins to drag it along your slick. You cry out, your body still recovering from the last moments of his stimulation.

“Marcus-” “I am going to fill you with my seed now. You will take every last drop because of what you just put me through,” He slides himself back into your cunt, painfully slow, “You are so convincing when you want to be.”

You grunt, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows. When Marcus notices your movement, he takes the chance and grabs your arms in a very rough manner. His hands are gripping you so tightly, you anticipate another mark. He yanks your body closer to his, wrapping your arms between your bodies, locking you up. It was not the most comfortable position, but the feeling of his cock slipping in you further distracts you from the affliction.

“You played me for a fool. You were always going to let me go. You just wanted me to fill this greedy pussy.”

He fucks into you, letting out his own passionate grunts. His words rattle in your mind as your whole body jiggles over the edge of the table.

He had you all figured out. It was unnerving how well he could read you, but it was not surprising. He had been around for most of your life, looking after you and being your most trusted confidant. Even if he let something slip to the wrong person, he was still going to be the one person you looked to in every crowd.

Now that you have experienced this side of him, you only love him more. He has always been intimidating, but never this all-consuming.

“Need you always, Marcus,” You whimper, trying your best to not ruin his pace. His cock stretches you so deliciously, you wish to have it with you at all times.

His release comes hurriedly, his body becoming heavy on top of yours. He slams your body down on the table, his arms breaking most of the fall. You can feel his seed emptying into your spent hole, warming you inside. The string of words leaving his lips, that’s right dove, take all of me, your greedy hole just missed me.

You can not help yourself. You smile.

You really wish you had watched him fall apart, knowing it was probably a sight to behold. There was always next time.

He unwraps himself from you and stumbles back a couple of steps. You lift your tired body, turning around to face him. You know if you step forward, you may crash to the floor. Leaning on the table was your best course of action.

He is smirking himself, his cock still half hard on his leg. “Need me, huh?”

You knew he would find time to hang onto those words. You breathe out your nose, a bit caught off guard. “Yes. I always seem to need you when I feel vulnerable.”

“Well, coming from the Empress of Rome, that surely means a lot. That you look to me in such times, I mean.”

You bite your cheek, contemplating your next big plans for Marcus. You did not want him to leave your side now that you ruled over him. You felt a gravitational pull from him. Now with him here in front of you, that was even more apparent.

“Well… General..” You try to find a way to word your next course of action. He looks at you earnestly as you speak. “You will be pardoned under my rule. But you will not be returning to your men. I will see you through as my personal protection.”

He furrows his brow at you as he picks up his abandoned tunic. “Pardon me?”

“You are directed to be my personal guard, Marcus. Your troops will now be under the rule of another. If you see issue with my ruling, I will happily leave you in this cell.”

He wants to be angry, but he simply cannot be. Truth be told, he was ready to retire from being the leader of the world’s largest array of soldiers. He was just not expecting you to allow him to do such a thing.

He cracks a smile at the thought of you leaving him in this cell.

“What you order, goes. I will happily take on that role, Empress.”

All he knew was to be strong and even-tempered when he directed his armies. Now in a time of peace, under your rule, he needed to find calamity somewhere else. And he knew that would be right at your side.

tagging all who wanted this: @layaispunk @tammythr @amanitacowboy @noladyme @kluvspedro @fangirlcentral1

#HI MEAN MARCUS HERE #marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfic #gladiator 2 fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #gracieheartspedro #fic: Propositio

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queer-obsession · 2 months ago

Text

You sip your coffee as you watch your teenage son come downstairs the stairs in the most lazy and lethargic way possible. He's more like his father besides looking exactly like him. "Good morning," You greet with a smirk as he comes over and collapses onto a chair at the dinning table while you lean back on the counter.

Your son looks over at you and glares before laying his head on the table. "I'm dropping out of school," He mutters dramatically causing you to roll your eyes.

"Yeah and I'm becoming the next Empress," You reply with a snort as you sit down across from him. "Eat something."

"Make me something!"

"I'm not your slave."

Your son groans and refuses to get up. "I'm totally your least favorite," He mutters.

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. "You're my only child," You remind him with a chuckle as you sip your coffee.

"You still like your fantasy child better than me!" He says dramatically with a whine causing you to roll your eyes.

"Don't be silly. In my fantasy I have no children," You reply with a smirk causing him to glare at you. If your son did get one thing from you, it's your dramatics.

"Whatever, Dad is my favorite," Your son mutters with a huff as he finally sits up. He stands up and heads to the fridge to find some food.

You pause in sipping your coffee and look over at him as he sifts through the fridge. "Your father is your favorite? He's boring!" You reply in disbelief as you scoff.

Your son nods. "Yeah, that's why he's my favorite. He doesn't expect me to, like, do things or go places. He just lets me chill and play Persona," He says casually as he pulls out a bagel before pulling it apart and popping it in the toaster. "You want me to join a different club."

You huff. "Because your club only has four people and all you do is play Kahoot! It's like you're trying to be Yuji Itadori! Clubs are supposed to be ways to make friends! Even your amazing father was in a team club!" You reply as you cross your arms. You narrow your eyes at your son as he simply yawns and pulls out his phone.

Your son shrugs. "See? You proved my point. Dad's better," He says casually as his bagels finally pop up. He puts his phone back in his sweatpants pocket before pulling the bagels out and immediately eating it.

You glower at your son just as your husband comes walking into the kitchen with a yawn. You quickly turn your glare to him and he pauses as he rubs his bed head. "What?" Your husband mutters.

-----

KENMA, Suna, Todoroki, Shikamaru, Shigaraki, KAMINARI, Conny. Comment anyone else you think <3

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monstersholygrail · 4 months ago

Note

gimme a loving monster husband harem that loves me for me and won't get angry or disappointed when I suck at life please.

I went like super high-fantasy with this. If you’d like a different version lemme know but this is the brainrot speaking for me right now lmao

You groan, putting your head in your hands from the stress you’ve been going through for the past few days, weeks, or was it months? You didn’t know anymore but you were so tired.

Your Monster Harem surrounds you, providing comfort where they can. Your Dragon concubine wraps his tail around you from behind, silently letting you know he’s there for you. Your Phoenix Hybrid and Wolf Hybrid concubines rest beside you. Your mermen and demon concubines spread out among the steps. All while your Minotaur concubine lays before you are your newest prize.

“Your majesty, you’re ruining the empire. The people are in desperate need of leadership,” one of your advisors dares to speak up, their concern evident if they risked speaking to you outright about it.

Your mermen and demon concubines hiss at the advisor, furious that they insult you. Your Dragon concubine growls in warning, eagerly wanting to set the advisor on fire for their disrespect. And your Minotaur concubine bellows in anger, shaking his head and ready to charge at them with your command.

They all knew you were trying your best. Even when you felt like you were constantly failing and sucking at life, they were always right there to comfort you. Showering you in all the affection you could desire. In their opinion you were a wonderful and beautiful Empress no matter what you did. They loved you endlessly and there was nothing that could take them from your side.

“I think you need to leave while you’re ahead. Or else you’ll be leaving without one,” your Minotaur concubine rasps, just waiting on your word to take this bastard out.

But you don’t, far too distraught to find the joy in murder today. And the advisor scurries out of there in the blink of an eye.

At the sound of a cry breaking past your lips, all your concubines turn to you. Their hearts aching to see their empress in such pain. Rushing toward you they hurry to comfort you, all of them surrounding you and reaching to hold even an inch of your precious plush body.

“Don’t listen to them, my love. You’re doing all you can,” your Phoenix concubine murmurs with so much tender affection it allows you to cry even harder.

“And it’s enough! More than enough,” your Wolf concubine quickly adds. He nuzzles into your neck, a rumble moving through his chest at your closeness.

Your tears move through you freely as you release all your pent up emotion. Your arms wrap around as many of your concubines as you can, basking in their warmth and adoration.

From behind you your Dragon concubine growls, still not liking to see his Empress in such distress. His forked tongue runs along the nape of your neck, causing you to shiver against your concubines.

“You’re doing so good. No matter what anyone else says. Trust us. Trust me,” he says lowly. His claw reaches out and softly turns your chin toward him, meeting your eye for a moment before descending down and kissing you passionately.

Your other concubines help you to lay back on your throne and get as comfortable as possible. Not wanting you to worry about a thing. As you get swept up in the hot kiss of your Dragon concubine, they swiftly undress you. All of them wanting to kiss you as well.

You gasp into the Dragon’s mouth as you suddenly feel the other’s mouths and tongues covering your sensitive body. They grab at you, their differing claws taking handfuls of flesh in their palms, loving your squishy body and how it welcomes their eager hands.

The Minotaur concubine reaches your precious cunt first. Groaning at your glistening lips, not knowing how quickly you get wet for them. His wide tongue runs through your folds you cry out, body jerking into his mouth.

The Dragon takes the chance to slip his tongue deep inside your mouth and you moan. All these sensations clashing together and creating a symphony of pleasure.

You desperately try and rock into your Dragon and his magical tongue, into the hands of your other concubines, and into the skilled tongue of your Minotaur all at once. Your pleasure skyrockets at the never ending pleasure unleashed upon you.

Your Dragon’s tongue somehow moves perfectly in sync with your Minotaur’s. Both of them dipping their tongues as deep inside you as they could go. Your Minotaur switching between sucking on your clit and filling your fat cunt with his wide tongue. Your dragon moving between exploring your mouth and brushing his tongue against yours. All of it making your toes curl and your body shake.

The Minotaur concubine is shocked at how quickly you gush all over his tongue, your release flooding into his mouth. He releases a long grunt and laps up your orgasm like a man starved. It has you whining and whimpering into your Dragon’s mouth.

Your other concubines go nearly feral at the sight of your release. Their hands and mouths stop their groping, biting, and licking to gravitate toward your sweet essence. They swipe at your thighs all fighting for a taste.

All of them trying to push your Minotaur out of the way to get to your pulsing core first. You sigh with contentment as you lean back against your Dragon, knowing you’re in for a long night of pleasure.

All the worries about your Empire fading into the background to wait another day.

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madschiavelique · 6 days ago

Text

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 11 - The Empress

summary : Eris comes over to spend the holidays with you, and drags jayce and viktor in tarot readings. Some bad news linger in the air, but nez beginnings are blooming.

content warnings : lots of dialogue. like a lot. and an enourmous amount of tarot yapping, some angst, and some fluff to close it all

word count : 12,4k

author's note : i hate having like zero perception of my own writing ARGH i hope this is good. gosh this is so long. but hey first writing post of 2025 yey!!!

NOT proofread for now

masterlist : here

Piltover under the snow had a profoundly different atmosphere to its usual gilt. The domes and roofs covered in thick snow gave the impression that all the clouds in the sky had fallen on the town, covering it in a smooth white mantle. It seemed silent, as if frozen in time.

As you emerged from the dormitory building, wrapped in your scarf up to your nose, you were greeted by the incessant waltz of snowflakes falling from the sky, tumbling like white feathers like all the angels in the skies had removed their leaves like the trees, simply guided by the wind towards an unknown destination. But it didn't matter, they were flying, simply free.

Your boots crunched in the snow as you set off towards the bridge to find Eris. The day had come for you to pick her up, and as agreed you were going to meet her at the usual bridge linking the two cities.

The town was all decked out with garlands and lights criss-crossing from buildings to buildings, apparently firmly preventing any colour other than gold from running through its streets. The carcasses of trees stripped of their foliage were lit up again, the majority of passers-by had their gloved hands around a cup of hot chocolate, and children were running after each other with snowballs in their hands ready to fire at their friends.

Still, there were fewer people than usual, the majority staying at home in the comfort and warmth of a well-insulated fireplace. You didn't need to wonder what it was like in Zaun, you had spent enough winters there that you didn't miss it.

The lack of heat in the promenade level wasn't too bad, although it would have been useful to have good chimneys or radiators that didn't break every other day. Some of the holes in the roofs led to leaks, but despite a few power cuts, it was possible to live normally.

Surprisingly, the sump level was the least worst. The constant heat from the machines brought a little warmth back to the bowels of the city, and this time the most hard-pressed workers found themselves in a new level of comfort.

As for the entresol level, it was a terrible in-between. Too far away from the big energy machines, and receiving the freezing snows in certain crevices falling from the top, the entresol level was poorly housed, at least in your memories. Who knows, perhaps public heaters filled with flammable resources had been introduced to prevent anyone from being absent from the streets.

When you reached the bridge, it was almost deserted, apart from the unfortunate enforcers chosen on this day to ensure customs and passage between each town. With your hands shoved into your pockets, you waited for your friend to appear in the distance.

It was always preferable for you to be present and to set up a meeting point like this, just in case the enforcers wanted to cause problems for nothing when looking for papers and for you to confirm that she was with you.

Sky would no doubt have liked to come and meet your friend. You had already spoken to her about your soul sister, and she would have greatly appreciated seeing her. But Sky was already on the other side, spending her holidays with her family on the Promenade level. You hoped she wouldn't have any problems, no leaks, no power cuts.

At last you saw your friend's face, wearing a cap almost as black as her hair, as she made her way painfully towards the enforcers. Mechanically, she took out her papers, her fingertips peeking out of her mittens as she passed them to the officer before quickly stuffing them back into her pocket to keep out the cold. She exchanged an annoyed glance with you as the man made sure everything was in order, earning you a chuckle as she puffed out her cheeks before sighing heavily. He finally handed her her papers, and she gave him a polite but cold smile before moving towards you.

"It's like they take their time on purpose," she breathed, before taking you in her arms.

You hugged her back, despite the thickness of the coats that separated you with difficulty. "You're too pretty for the Piltover standards, they have to double-check if you're real."

With a tired laugh, she backed away from you, squeezing your shoulders and examining you for a moment. "Have you been doing something to your skin or is it just the perfect air of the city that does that?"

You brought your gloved hands to your cheeks, not really having changed your routine. "I'll have to look at what was in that champagne they served at the masquerade."

She raised her eyebrows, then frowned. "Masquerade?"

"Let's walk home," you said as you started to move forward, "I'll tell you one the way."

"You seem to be having a whole lot of fun without me around, young lady. I envy you," sighed Eris. "I don't get many highlights in my days."

"Am I not the highlight of your day?’"

"As long as we aren't in a warm place, you're not."

"Ouch!" you say falsely offended, bringing your hand to your chest. "This vexes me."

"I'm sure you'll overcome this affront." She pressed her shoulder against yours. "Tell me about what I missed. Since when do you go to masquerades?"

You sighed, a wisp of steam rising into the sky as you finally reached the end of the bridge. "After the exams, our dear Jayce Talis asked us to come with him to a masquerade because he was terrified of it."

"Us? Did Sky come with you?" Eris repeated, arching an eyebrow.

You shook your head, as if it was really ridiculous. "If only it had been Sky," you turned to her. "The Emperor himself has honoured us with his presence."

"Are things always this thorny with him?" She questioned.

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"You? Not knowing? That's a first," Eris chuckled.

"It's just... I don't know." You sighed, taking a turn with Eris. "There's change everywhere and I still have to get used to it, change in my relationships, in my mind." You let your shoulders drop. "Maybe I also need a change of scenery."

"Buy a plant." sighed Eris at the sight of the stairs you were about to climb.

"Won't be needed," you sneered. "Turns out we're going to Demacia once the holidays are over, apparently."

"Demacia?" Eris exclaimed, "I'll need to make you a list of things to bring me back."

"Do I need to take a second suitcase if I'm going to bring everything back?" You asked.

"You'll need to pack a second suitcase so I can sneak in and come with you."

"How should I explain this to security?"

She shrugged, pressing her lips forward in a pout. "They'll just pass me off as a national treasure."

You chuckled, Eris smiling back before resuming.

"But weren't your exams supposed to be after the holidays?"

"That's the thing, I've already taken them."

She looked at you deeply confused.

"I know," you confirmed by the look on her face, "had a near death experience. Overworked myself."

"Nobody's surprised so far," Eris confirmed.

"Underslept," you went on.

"As always."

"Under ate."

Eris turned to you. "This is actually starting to border on dangerous."

"So I ended up very ill, passed out and spent a feverish night during which..."

You thought back to that morning, remembering the sunlight streaming through Viktor's hair, his fingers resting on your forehead before returning to his temple, his insistence that you get some rest.

"Which?" asked Eris awaiting the end of your sentence.

You swallowed, sniffling as your nose began to get damp from the cold. "During which Viktor stayed by my side to make sure I was okay."

She arched an eyebrow, a naughty little smile playing on her lips.

"And..." she said, her tone a little playful as you sensed what she was about to say, "are you sure the dislike is mutual?"

You sighed almost brutally. "Not you too."

"Who else theorises my way?"

"Who else but Selene?"

"Ah, the wisest woman alive," she exhaled. "Is he here during the holidays, Vik-tor?"

She deliberately lengthened the pronunciation of his name, making you roll your eyes. "Apparently, yes. Jayce and him are staying over in their apartment."

"Great, sounds like plan for us to meet them."

"You want to meet the number one cause that got me to almost shake hands with death?"

"He is also the number one cause that pulled you out of this situation which I suppose you got yourself into all on your own." She had a point, and you half-closed your mouth, but she just took the wind out of your sails. "Your clit has millions of nerve endings but it's still less sensitive than your ego."

Shocked by the stupidity of her sentence, you laughed nervously, her joining you in a fit of laughter.

"I'll know what to write in my presentation on Zaun's slang."

"I hope you'll give me proper credit."

"Of course I do. I just hope the teacher marking us doesn't put ‘verbal drip’ in the margin. I'd risk 15 years of psychotherapy just to be able to cherish the hope of recovering from that."

"The famous paper you're sharing with the charming Viktor."

"You call him charming when you haven't even seen him."

"What, isn't he charming?"

You thought back to the masquerade, his dark hair with strands falling lightly over his mask, his amber eyes highlighted with kohl piercing you as he sketched a smile that raised the mole on his cheek.

"I suppose by most standards he's not bad."

"Not bad. I suppose I'll see for myself."

"I will use your vocal cords as floss," you breathed once more as you continued on your way.

"Use one of Talis' hair instead, I'm sure it'll be cleaner than anything from Zaun."

"Leave Jayce out of this, poor guy has had enough of our constant bickering with Viktor for his entire life."

"You're already acting like an old couple," quipped Eris.

"I wish you the mumps," you grumbled, "but speaking of couples, Jayce is apparently dating none other than Mel Medarda."

She turned to you. "The counsellor?" She asked in confirmation.

"Yup, met her at the masquerade."

"How is she? Apart from breathtakingly gorgeous and perfect?" Questioned Eris.

"I don't like saying bad things about people, but she's actually nice," you replied.

"Hmm," she hummed. "Did you know that If given access to it, butterflies will happily drink blood?"

You turned to her, the change in conversation seeming strange. "Really."

"Yes," she continued, "they won't bite or harm other creatures to get it though. They are solely taking advantage of whatever foods are available in their environment. So most of those up above aren't too far off. Their beauty and supposed simplicity isn't everything, especially in a world as gilded and polished as Piltover's." Her eyes went to the golden tower of the council. "Do you think she's a butterfly?"

You now understood her reasoning. Sometimes you didn't always understand what she was trying to get across, unpredictable as she was. "I don't think she's much of a butterfly, I see her more like a dove in a golden cage."

"I don't have the material to be one of these birds, but if I was a bird..." began Eris, and you felt a déjà vu of conversation emerge following the end of your masquerade evening.

"What, you wish you could fly?"

"I know who I'd shit on."

You huffed. "Got a target in mind?"

"Not for now, but I guess you got yours?" She kept teasing you, and you knew you'd never get to the bottom of it.

"Apparently not any more, we're currently on a truce."

"A truce," she nodded once, dramatically.

"What does it consist of?"

"Fewer problems, more help, more opportunities, and..." you thought for a moment about Viktor's coat still lying in your dressing room, "less cold."

"Less cold?" She repeated.

"Mhm," you hummed as you finally reached the dormitory area.

"I think I'm going to like this Viktor," she confirmed.

"What, are you going to fall for his charms?"

"I'll leave this task to you, dearest trouble."

Eris had put her things in the bedroom, occupying Sky's bed, which would be free until the last weekend of the holidays. She knew the flat. During the times you'd had it to yourself when you weren't sharing it with anyone, she'd come and sleep there whenever she had the chance.

You couldn't count the number of times you'd both laughed there, the stupid things you'd done, or the number of heart-to-heart chats you'd had at three in the morning.

Despite Eris's many complaints, you took her to see Emmeline, who took her in her arms and, like a distant relative who talks about having changed our nappies when we were babies, kept telling her that she had changed.

With a few sweets offered, you returned to the dormitories, enjoying them while chatting about everything and anything. Her eyes inevitably fell on your tarot cards.

"Did you draw one every day?" She asked, stuffing another marzipan sweet into her mouth.

You swallowed your own mouthful, sucking the excess sugar off your fingers. "Apart from the few days I was too busy to study to do so, yeah."

She grabbed another sweet. "Did you do your reading this morning?"

"I thought that with you here we could get a better and proper reading, to see what I learned?"

"Oh you're a master of the art now?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

She wiped her fingers in a final gesture. "Let's go into the hall by the fireplace. Not that I don't like the flat, but being by a nice fire in a big armchair is much nicer."

And so, taking with you your own card deck, you headed down the hall.

Most of the students had left to return to their families, leaving the building virtually deserted for your own delight. All the armchairs and sofas were free, and it was only natural that you should sit down on the two sofas facing each other by the fire.

Eris placed the box and the small booklet of your deck on the varnished wooden coffee table separating the both of you, keeping the cards in her bare fingers covered with a few tattoos along their length. They weren't her only tattoos, of course. She had a few on her arms, ink under the skin being almost unavoidable in Zaun. They were covered, though, by the long sleeves of the jumper you'd lent her when she arrived.

It felt good to abandon the academy uniform for a moment and dress without restraint. Oversized shirts, oversized hoodies and oversized pants were the watchwords for your holiday clothes, in contrast to the Academy vest that clung to your body all the time.

"A general reading?" She questioned, kocking on the back and front of the deck.

"I guess," you breathed as you leaned over, elbow on your knees, "I just hope I don't end up with another tower again."

"Wasn't it for the best though?"

You thought back over the last few months, the constant torment hadn't been pleasant at all, but the achievements you'd made were undoubtedly a real step forward.

"Yeah," you half admitted.

Eris huffed, knowing full well that you wouldn't fully concede this fact even if it were scientifically proven. In a perfect, expert gesture, she spread out the line of cards.

"Just three cards right?"

"Just three cards, for now at least."

Just like two months ago, you repeated your gestures, letting your hand float over the cards like a storm cloud looking for the highest point to strike with its thunderbolt. Once the three cards had been drawn, Eris folded the clean cards back into a perfectly straight deck.

"Let's see what we're working with."

She turned over the first card. Four of Swords. The card was covered in grey, a surprise considering the rest of her deck's twins always sported a variety of colours.

"Good start." commented Eris before moving on to the second card.

Two of Wands, a man in a carmine cloak, was looking into the distance.

"Adds up," she confirmed before finally reaching the last card.

The Lovers.

Your eyes met Eris's, pressing her lips and eyes hard as she tried to stop herself from laughing.

"Whatever you're about to say, don't," you decided.

She had to take a deep breath to refocus and stop herself from giggling.

"I'm not the one who pulled the cards," she almost coughed as she grabbed the deck and looked at the shadow card. "Interesting."

"How interesting?"

She turned the deck towards you. "Interesting."

The Empress reigned under it.

You swallowed, thinking back to the Emperor card drawn for Viktor, your eyes drifting inevitably to the lovers card.

"Much more positive than our last draw, if I may say so."

You say nothing, simply sighing as you place one of your hands in the palm of the other. "Just start it."

She cleared her throat, putting the deck down again and letting the Empress reign over the top of the deck. She picked up the Four of Swords card.

"That's pretty much in line with what's been going on lately, and by that I mean relaxing."

"So I'm just... resting?"

"Not just resting, you're resting like a hero. Not everyone has their recumbent in a church. I take it the exams went well all things considered?"

"First place," you replied.

She pressed her lips into an inverted smile and shook her head. "So mediocre, I expected better than you."

You smiled at her sarcasm, you missed her teasing.

"In any case, you left a part of yourself there that was no longer useful, because to have a recumbent on your grave you have to be dead."

You thought back to the death card you'd drawn and Sky had read to you. The reaper had done his work so that with his sickle the weeds were cut down and new healthy plants grew there.

"In the stained glass window," she continued, "you can see two figures, one kneeling before the other. It's easy to see from this card that, through stability, it's peace that we're looking for - especially after experiencing pain - as opposed to the anguish of not being sure, of not even knowing if tomorrow there won't have been something that will have made us see everything differently."

The champagne hadn't betrayed you by making you agree to things you would otherwise have thought you'd never have said yes to.

"It was a situation of stagnation that you cut out," Eris pointed out, "values inculcated by parents or other authority figures that you had no use in following any longer, that you took on yourself without questioning them."

"So basically I was stupid?"

"Why are you saying this in the past tense?"

You giggled, "Shut up."

She smiled, continuing her explanation. "It was mostly a refusal to reconsider things; resentment or refusal to give a second chance. You stayed in that place that didn't suit you because you were already there, it was something you knew and there's nothing more reassuring than things you know - even if they hurt you." She reassured following your question. "It's a card that represents retirement, isolation, sleep and illness. An excellent moment of respite during which you can contemplate the past, learn from it and make peace with what you've been through."

‘’Right, enough about my past.‘’ You sighed, realising that the cards were obviously well aware of what had happened. "What about my future?"

"You're skipping a step here," she said as she put the card back down, taking the Two of Wands, "because before your future, there's your present."

"It's just a transition between past and future, present doesn't exist, there are only 2 times."

"There are four times," Eris pointed out. "Past," her fingers pointed at the Four of Swords as if she had a pistol, "present," she pressed them against the Two of Wands, "future," her fingers reached for the title of the Lovers, and just as you thought she'd be pointing at the Empress, she pointed one hand at the it while the other aimed her fingers at you, "and forever. It's a time too often forgotten since it's the only time we live entirely, but it truly exists."

You sighed, nodding at her lesson as she picked up the Two of Wands card.

"After the four, whose monotonous stability has taken us out of repetitive circles, the two is an encounter, but not just any encounter."

"Am I going to meet someone again?" You huffed, the prospect not thrilling you any more than that.

"Not necessarily. As you probably know from the tarot's classification of colours, the wands represent desire, the swords rule the realm of the mind, the cups are the emotions, and since there's nothing left in us after those three, what's left is the material, which is governed by the pentacles. What can desire encounter? Nothing but the world, against which it will have to measure itself if it wants to achieve."

"So I'm going to conquer Demacia, am I?" You leaned back, looking at the card. "That's still in the future, not the present."

"That's because Meeting plus Desire equals evaluation. You're evaluating in the present what's going to happen."

You understood the intriguing twists and turns of the multi-card tarot reading more and more. It was completely different from the simple one-card readings you used to do for yourself.

"The first thing desire does as it develops is confront reality." She brought both hands towards her, all her fingers together as she pointed at her shoulders. "I have my desire, I realise there's the world, so I wonder how I'm going to combine the two. It's evaluation time."

It was when Eris was working on the cards that you realised just how professional and educational she was. She was patient in spite of your useless remarks and knotted the lines of the cards together to make a clear and precise explanation.

"Behind the battlements," she continued, pointing to the symbols, "the man dominates the landscape: planning requires height and perspective. The globe in his hand," she pointed to the drawings one by one, "reminds us that the world belongs to him if he manages to combine his desire with reality. The village facing the ocean gives the idea of openness; the strategy in place allows us to open up our horizons. The blooming blasin that appears in the niche recalls the roses and lilies of the fool. Where the latter is in the thick of the action, the man on the Two of Wands is still observing. But in both cases, it's the same thing - which is it?"

You looked at the card, going over what Eris had explained to you. "Apply your will to the world."

She snapped her finger, pointing it at you. "Exactly. The whole point of these cards is that," she took the two cards in each of her hands to show them to you so that they faced each other, "where we've abandoned patterns that no longer interest us and that we followed blindly with the Four of Swords, the Two of Wands reminds us that now that a new world is open to us, it would be a good idea to evaluate it before you can forge your true will and apply it to the world around you."

She put the cards back down straight as she crossed her legs. "It's the evaluation of a project, a partner, an opportunity - gathering information, studying feasibility, a skills assessment or whatever to observe and ask ourselves if it's really what we want, and if it really corresponds to the expression of the need."

"Do the cards tell you all that?"

"I'm the card whisperer, haven't you confirmed that?" She designated her body, sweeping the air from her shoulders to her thigh.

"You do your readings to all your customers like this?"

"You're a very special client, I have to adapt to my audience," she said as she straightened, her eyes returning to the card. "It's also all about planning and preparing for a big trip, I hope Demacia will have a stoic enough stomach to digest you. In any case, you're asking yourself a lot of questions. Is it really what I want? Is it really possible to get what I want, given the circumstances and the means at my disposal?"

Were you ready to accept Viktor as a friend in your life? The last few months had worn you down so much that you were sincerely wondering how things were going to go. Would it be the same bickering every day? Would it be different? You still didn't know where you stood on the question, the map was right.

"Now," she rubbed her hands excitedly, "the future." She took the card in her hand, raising it to your eyes. "What do you see?"

You bent down, looking at the illustration. An angel filling the sky, a crown of leaves encircling its head, its carmine wings reaching down to a woman on the left and a man on the right, both naked. Your eyes returned to Eris', a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Please don't tell me it's about me and Viktor getting naked." You asked, your tone almost plaintive and asking for pity. Why did it always have to be about him?

She stretched her lips. "I'm not saying you and Viktor are going to get naked, but I definitely wanted to hear you say it."

You rolled your eyes, resting your chin on your palm.

"The lovers' card isn't necessarily to be taken literally, I thought with your immense sense of deduction you'd have come to that conclusion." She turned the card towards her. "The Lovers card is a card of choice. In the Original Tarot, it represents a, arrowed angel over a man hesitating between two women, one young and seductive and the other older and rather severe. It sometimes shows the crossroads between vice and virtue, with the idea that one should obviously choose virtue." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Only, if you had to have virtue, it would be by discipline, so the Cupid on the old card would have no place there. The Tarot should help to better understand who we are; therefore, the card of choice should teach me how to make the right choice for myself, not for moral teachers."

She turned the card back to you. "The central character in the old cards hesitates because he has as many reasons to go one way as the other. It's easy to imagine that the older woman is wiser than the younger one, but the younger one is kinder than the older one..." she swung the card between her fingers like a pendulum. "But the older one is more experienced... and so on. So the message is clear: when it comes to making the right choice for me, reason isn't going to help me. Choosing your career on purely objective criteria is the best way to make yourself unhappy, because it's choosing what anyone should do, when you're not just anyone."

She held the card out to you like a mirror, the varnish on the thick glazed paper gleaming in the firelight.

"How do I make the right choice for me?" You asked, your eyes moving from the card to find hers.

“By turning to the only thing at your disposal that isn't commonplace, your sensibility.” She smiled. "When it comes to the choices that matter, reason can only lose us. So you have an essential tool for the journey ahead of you," she says, her free fingers resting on the Two of Wands. "To make the right choice, your reason knows it's useless on its own, so it turns to your sensibility, because it's connected to something higher, something that's never wrong."

Your eyes drifted over the silhouette of the man and woman.

"This is the path to harmony. We mustn't forget that it's just as valuable as the path to glory, although we're only bombarded with examples of the latter, because to be known, you have to surpass the others."

Your first place seemed more bitter than the sweetness it had brought you when you learned of your victory. Your cheeks warmed as you thought of all the comments your little family Eris and Selene made had suggested.

"And the lovers' card has no sentimental connection?"

She offered you a benevolent smile. "It's the card of love as the most obvious cry of affection. The card of mutual attraction, of the sentimental relationship, of the soul mate - becoming one. A balanced love relationship where one matchs the other, where the partners are complementary and in tune with each other as opposed to love at first sight which can leave us in shock like a certain arcane number sixteen you know all too well, burning sexuality like that of the wands and their insatiable desire, or illusory relationships."

The man and woman on the lovers' card weren't necessarily just opposites, they were mirrors of each other.

"It's a bit scary," you admitted.

"The veracity of the cards?"

"That, and..." you pointed quickly at the card, "them."

"Love is either sought after as the solution to all problems, or shunned like the plague. It's neither. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Yeah well," you sighed, "can't help but be scared of something I never experienced."

You hadn't really had time to dwell on love affairs, so much so that until today you didn't have a single ex to your name. You had been so determined to achieve academic perfection that you had pushed any potential distraction out of your way. And now, with the possibility of a breakthrough on the horizon, you were terrified.

If love struck, would you be able to fight back?

"Let's not close any doors to the future," pointed Eris, laying down the lovers' card, “especially with a card like the one we have for the globality of this reading.”

She picked up the Empress card, presenting it to you again as if you were the artist's inspiration for this illustration.

"The Empress is the card of creation and fertility."

You recoiled slightly in surprise. "Please don't tell me that by some misfortune I'm going to get pregnant."

"It's not necessarily fertility in the literal sense, although that's part of it in certain specific cases," she cackled as her attention returned to the card. "It's the card of generation from within yourself. You have to have depth if you want to create, because to create is to bring something out of yourself. If the creative process is so mysterious, it's because it takes place in our deepest recesses. She is depicted in a sensual pose, creation being a matter of love and pleasure, as much in the flesh as in the intellect, because ideas germinate in the mind that conceives them."

You looked at the cards again, frowning.

"I see you're beginning to understand."

"So," you tried to summarise, "taking a step back from the situation and creating my own convictions is going to lead me to... fuck my way up to the top?"

Eris bobbed her head like one of those spring-loaded dolls, rolling her eyes at the sky. "Among other things." She put the card down, pointing as she had before at each symbol. "Three is a creation number, given that if you put 1+1 and turn off the light, it's through their power of generation, sexual, that they will become 3 by creating a child." She moved her finger. "The ball-shaped sceptre represents the total domination of the Empress of the Earth. Her crown extends her reign over the entire cycle of the year. The stars are six-pointed, the triangle forwards and backwards: her power is both material, nature, and spiritual, intelligence," she explained, her hands weighing the words our like a balance.

Your eyes drifted back to the Two of Wands, resting on the globe that man held.

"The eagle on the shield of the Original Tarot represents intelligence; this bird flies high and has a piercing gaze. However, its wing is still in its infancy. Its creativity has no other purpose than itself, so it can fly off in all directions without producing anything usable. The Emperor's eagle, on the other hand, will be complete because it will have added what the Empress lacks in order to master the whole process of the material world."

She exchanged a look with you. "She represents the creation of harmony from disordered elements so that the matter develops freely, like building a system or a plan. It's also femininity in full bloom, sensual, self-confident, seductive," she winked at you in an exaggerated way that made you smile. "It's about building a relationship with for mutual development, but not only that." She moistened her lips. "It's what you create out of yourself, the protector, the one who cares, who develops, who accompanies. The one who helps a company, a group or a project to grow."

She straightened up after this listing. "Something is born, brought into being, cultivated or made to believe: a vocation, possibilities. It's Abundance, and being ready to share its wealth with others, out of pleasure and love." She turned her eyes for a moment to the fire in the fireplace. "A simple ‘want’ is not enough to move the fixtures that business creation requires, nor is a desire rooted in selfishness or hatred, like doing something only to break someone else."

She described a loose, descriptive movement over the cards with her arm. "So the Empress represents the power of generation, naked creativity, cool. But there's something missing," she smiled, "someone who's very creative can give birth to a whole bunch of great ideas... without ever achieving anything, because they go off in all directions." She turned to the deck and the card the Empress was covering. "You need structure and discipline for that."

She grabbed the card, bringing it close to the Empress's, and your lips parted in shock.

“The Emperor will bring them both to us.”

The Emperor's card was there, its presence unchanged, its meaning weighing on your warming heart. She placed the last two cards on the table with an air of satisfaction. You looked at the deck for a moment, the cards interlocking. You took the Empress's card in your hand, hovering over every detail of ink and colour on it.

Was it really you? This charismatic, strong-willed being? Could you really become this, this abundant being?

"Wow," you breathed, setting the card down on the table as Eris picked up her sisters to put them away again and you slumped back on the sofa. "That's something."

"Yup," Eris confirmed.

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment as your eyes drifted towards the fire, thinking about the huge bag of information and truths that Eris had just dumped on your thoughts and that you were probably going to be thinking about for a very long time. And yet one name kept lingering in your mind.

"Say," you asked, your eyes returning to her, "why do you all think that Viktor and I could be... something?"

She giggled, leaving the deck on the table before resting her elbow on the arm of the sofa and resting her cheek on her fist. "You're asking me that as my first question after this reading?"

You sighed, your knee jerking repeatedly as you lowered your eyes to the floor. "Just... answer the question."

She knew there were certain limits to bickering. "Well," she began, "from what I've been hearing from you, you truly respect him, as in the name at the top of your 'list of respect'. He practically saved your life when you were fighting against your own stubbornness, and..." she seemed to search for words for a moment. "I get the impression that he's the person you make the most effort to be accepted by in your entourage."

"And... on a deeper level?"

"On a deeper level, in my humble opinion as the heart sister and friend you've known the longest in your life, I get the impression that, subconsciously, you're seeking his approval. Because now that he's given you a taste of what it was like to lose on your own ground and made you realise how much it was destroying you, you're grateful to him even if you refuse to admit it, to others and to yourself." She watched you for a moment, circling you under her skilful, sharp gaze. "I think he's the first one who's reached your level, and managed to keep up with you without ever tiring, always trying to bring out the parts of you that you don't show to others. And that scares you," she shook her head, "but I honestly think the fact that he's come into your life is the best thing that's happened to you in a long time."

That's what you liked about Eris, her honesty. She didn't care about hurting people's feelings or exposing them raw to the eyes of all, time was too short for pointless little lies, and she realised the truth of that very early on.

And you weren't offended, but you felt stripped bare by her words. That was probably what frightened you, finding yourself and the truth shining through for everyone to see. That was probably why the lovers were undressed. They saw each other stripped of all lies, hearts open as they created harmony.

Only two people knew you completely, the two members of your family. But that you could find someone who wasn't part of this circle and who saw all these things in you and accepted them no matter what, to lead you towards the best? It was new, and there's nothing more terrifying than the new. But surely, that was the lesson of the cards.

Yet your train of thought was interrupted when two figures you recognised all too well entered the hall.

"I think " you croaked, Eris following your gaze and turning towards them.

Jayce and Viktor, in casual clothes, were approaching you.

Eris turned back to you, shocked and shaking her head. "Is that what you call not bad?!" she almost shouted in her whisper.

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your hands. "I said by most standards!"

"I'm going to end up having heart attacks if your judgement's this poor."

"Hey there!" called Jayce as he approached. "Didn't think I'd find you here."

He wore a charming smile, dressed in a chunky cream hoodie and brown jogging bottoms. You'd already described to Eris what Jayce looked like, bringing back one of the class photos from your year so she could really see him.

Viktor, on the other hand, was wearing a brown turtleneck covered by a black cardigan, as were his wide pleated plaid trousers. He was frowning, his eyes shifting from you to Eris in confusion.

Eris turned to you, waiting for you to make the introductions.

"Jayce, Viktor," you pointed at Eris, "this is Eris. My sister."

"Pleased to meet you, Jayce," the latter smiled, extending his hand to shake hers as Eris stood up.

"Eris," she replied as Jayce gave way to his sidekick.

"Viktor," he said, squeezing her hand.

"I know," Eris smiled proudly as she turned her gaze back to you, "I've heard a lot about you."

You pressed your tongue lightly against the inside of your mouth as you laughed tiredly. Of course, now that he was here, she was going to be as playful as could be.

"Really?" Said Viktor, surprised as he turned to you.

"Absolutely," Eris replied.

"You never mentioned Eris was your sister," Jayce remarked.

"Best friend, sister, it's the same thing to me," you ranswered simply.

"Is that a Tarot deck I see here?" remarked Viktor.

Jayce riveted his eyes on the object. "You guys were playing?" he asked curiously.

"Eris was giving me a reading for the times ahead and other advice," you corrected.

"I'm a professional reader," she confirmed, "that's my job."

"How does that work?" asked Jayce, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of discovering something new.

"I can do a reading for you if it's okay with your schedule?" she suggested.

"Oh, we're just here to read and chat by the fire, nothing will be disturbed." Viktor assured her, resting his eyes on yours.

"All right then, let's go," she said, grabbing the deck.

Without missing a beat, Jayce took his place on the sofa where Eris was sitting. Viktor exchanged a glance with you, and you shrugged your shoulders and pointed to the seat next to you. Eris's words echoed as the leather slumped not far from you and Viktor placed his cane against the table.

"Alright, let me explain," began Eris as she rolled up her sleeves to reveal her tattoos.

Jayce seemed blown away by them, and you could feel his lips burning with the famous ‘did these hurt?’ which he never dared to say.

"I'm going to shuffle the cards so they're well mixed, then I'm going to...’’

But the conversation slowly faded into the background when Viktor spoke to you.

"I didn't think you'd dress like this on the daily," his voice was low, obviously not wishing to disturb the explanation to Jayce who seemed far too excited for this activity.

"What, you thought I slept in my uniform or something?" you questioned back.

He shrugged. "A bit."

You couldn't help but crack a smile before redirecting your gaze to Eris, looking at you both with a knowing glance.

Your smile faded as you straightened up, curious to see what Jayce would come up with.

"So all I have to do is take three cards?" He asked again.

"Yes," confirmed Eris.

"And can I show them or not?"

"Jayce, it's not a magic trick," informed Viktor.

Jayce turned to you, apparently waiting for your opinion too.

"Just pick three cards Jayce, the ones that call to you the most," you replied, resting your cheek on your fist.

"How do I know if they're calling me?" He questioned.

Viktor was already bringing his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as Eris explained again. "Just take the cards you wish to take."

He straightened. "There are no traps are there?"

You and Viktor sighed in unison as you just urged him to take his damned cards.

"Alright alright fine," sighed the latter, raising his hands in the air, "left hand, right?" He asked to Eris.

"Yes," confirmed the witch.

"Right, off I go."

You exchanged glances with Viktor, both of you rolling your eyes as Jayce finally picked up his first card.

"Where do you want me to put it?"

"Anywhere," laughed Eris. "Jayce, you can't make any mistakes with tarot, you know that, right?"

‘’Right,‘’ he nodded, placing the first card in front of him above the card line.

The ace of Pentacle arrived on the table.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Jayce asked immediately.

"That depends on what you draw next," laughed Eris, ‘just keep pulling.’’

Jayce then drew the eight of pentacles, immediately turning to Eris to gauge her reaction as she looked at him with eyes that said ‘you know what I'm going to say’.

He then drew his last card, the nine of cups.

"Okay," smiled Eris as she picked up the rest of the cards and gathered them into a compact pile, turning it over and smiling at Jayce.

"Is it good?" He asked, turning to you and Viktor.

"It's horrible," you breathed.

His face decomposed. "Is it?"

"No, I just said that to tease you, you've got a good game," you turned to Eris, ‘’right?"

She giggled, uncovering the sun like shadow card.

"It's splendid, my dears."

Joy returned to Jayce's face like a dog presented with a bone. Viktor propped his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers as he watched the set.

"Well," began Eris, clearing her throat, "I'm going to proceed as I usually do with my dear inexterminable microbe here and make a simple reading. One card for the past," she rested her fingers on the Ace of Pentacles, “one for the present,” on the Eight of Pentacles, “one for the future,” on the Nine of Cups, “and one card that will give the overall colour to the spread and potentially give us some advice.”

"Okay," Jayce replied, eager to hear what she had to say.

"First of all, we have the Ace of Pentacles. The Ace is used to place us in the field we're going to work in; for this one it's the material field, and this one is fraught with possibilities."

She took the card in her hand and turned to an angle where you could all see the card.

"The divine hand emerging from the clouds reminds us that the material realm, like the others, is a given; it's up to us to do something with it. A garden of lilies is traversed by an alley that passes under an arch, flowered with roses and leading to the mountains. Thought is born of matter and, in any case, you can't rise without the necessary material foundations. As for the pentacle, it's a sign of protection - upright, it's a representation of man with his head, or spirituality and consciousness, at the top and his two feet at the bottom, anchored in the earth. That's the attitude you need if you want to prosper in and with the world."

"Am I in the right inclination?" Asked Jayce.

"Absolutely," reassured Eris. "Now that we know all these elements, how can this help us? Well, the Ace of Pentacles represents a material opportunity, something to be developed in the concrete domain. It's the birth of a new interest or a new energy in the material and financial spheres. Didn't you have a career change last summer or something like that?"

‘’Yes,‘’ Jayce exclaimed, ‘’how do you know?" He turned to you. "Did you talk to her about it?"

"Talked about what?" You said with a shrug. "I'd only told her about the explosion in your flat and my concerns about your trial, that's all."

He seemed to soften at the word "concern".

"In any case," continued Eris, "the Ace of Pentacles often represents a job offer and the possibility of professional advancement. It's synonymous with a new project, and sometimes an influx of money from an unforeseen or unexpected source.’

You thought back to the few bills he had given you without any difficulty so that you could purchase a dress.

"That's incredible," he mumbled, all surprised, "don't you think Vik?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but I'm waiting to see the whole result.’

"Let's move on to the present, the Eight of Pentacles." She put down the Ace to take the next card. "We remain in the realm of the material and following the financial influx that the Ace of Pentacles was able to bring, there is the expression of the free with the eight and the lemniscate for its infinity. We have the talent, the materials, the knowledge and the ability to concentrate, so we can produce without hindrance."

Jayce seemed to be hanging on her every word, while Viktor seemed increasingly interested and methodically observant.

Eris's slender finger traced along the card. ‘The Pentacles are neatly lined up on the fully-covered beam and spill out onto the floor, and the craftsman has so many of them that he doesn't know where to put them. The bench can be seen as a representation of the skills he can rely on. The small village behind could mean that the craftsman can devote himself freely to his work because he knows that the other members of society will provide for his other needs." So she turned to Jayce. "I suppose living here in such a small flat can't be very practical for carrying out your projects, is your apartment still being refurbished?"

Jayce looked at her with wide eyes, turning to Viktor who maintained an inflexible phlegm, but you knew him well enough by now to recognise that he was intrigued by this discussion.

"How do you know that-"

"I don't know anything," smiled Eris, "I just read the cards and follow my intuition which, luckily, is rarely wrong."

"Well, that's just it," Jayce breathed, turning to you, "I got the go-ahead yesterday to move back into the flat."

You straightened. "You're moving out?"

"We're moving out," Viktor corrected.

The news, strangely enough, fell on you like a weight. Your eyes darted back and forth between Viktor and Jayce.

"When are you leaving?" you asked.

"Tomorrow morning," Jayce replied. "We finished packing up a few things today. We were going to come and see you later to tell you the news but," he smiled, "you were already here."

You turned to Viktor, who lowered his eyes. 'Just here to read and chat by the fire,' as he'd said. Why hadn't he just said they wanted to talk to you? Why did he change the subject?

You should have been relieved, to finally be rid of him on a daily basis, but you couldn't.

"What about the future?" asked Jayce as he turned back to the deck. "What's announced?"

You tried to digest the information as quickly as he had, but it was simply impossible. You forced yourself to, letting Eris resume her explanation as your heart seemed to weigh its weight down your throat.

"The Nine of Cups is pure and simple satisfaction. The Nine is the very last single-digit number, so it's an achievement. But the Nine is still an accomplishment in the weakest sense of the word, because it shows us what it's like when you see something through to the end - you don't go beyond anything, you just achieve it and that's all there is to it. For cups, it's 'filling the feeling of lack to the end, to the point of satisfaction’." She pinched the card between her two fingers, twisting it back and forth. "It's wish fulfillment, getting what you want. It's not having to ask anymore, it's one partner always there for the other no matter what, and the other counting on it."

Eris's eyes moved from Viktor to Jayce with a gentle glance.

"And the sun assures us of this with its warm presence. It brings self-confidence, the ability to assert oneself with kindness and to share happiness and the joy of life." She put the card down again, bringing the reading to a close. ‘I don't know what you're working on, but I hope it's something good for the world.’

Jayce exchanged a knowing smile with Viktor, who always returned it with mischief in his eyes.

"Well, that's really surprising!" Jayce exclaimed. "It's so right... I didn't know you could deduce all those things from cards."

"There's nothing random about arcane blades," asserted Eris. She turned to Viktor. "Would you like one too?"

He seemed taken by surprise, parting his lips and lifting his chin with his hands as his eyes moved from Jayce, to Eris, to you.

"I," he cleared his throat, "I don't know if this thing is really for me."

Viktor? Hesitating? that was definitely new.

"What," you chuckled as you turned to him, "scared the cards are going to be bad?"

"I'm not particularly fond of the idea that they could be right and doom me to think that i am doomed." Viktor explained. "What if they are bad?"

"What if they're not?" You suggested with a shrugged smile.

He considered you for a moment. "Haven't you ever regretted one of the readings Miss Eris here made for you?"

You sighed heavily. "It's sometimes painful," you returned Eris's gaze for a moment, she wore an infectious smirk that wasted no time in stretching your own lips to the side, "I have a very distinct one in mind that I deeply disliked. But..." you looked back at Viktor, "the cards were right, and for the better. Believe me."

He remained motionless for a moment, finally nodding.

"Alright," he nodded, turning to Eris who was already shuffling the cards.

She made a perfect line of cards, and Viktor moved his left hand forward to take his first card.

The Ace of Swords.

Viktor drew a second, and you frowned.

The Knight of Pentacles. Your tarot was a real player when it came to pulling out cards apparently.

"Him again," you breathed.

"What do you mean again?" questioned Eris.

"I'll explain some other time."

"And the last one?" Asked Eris as Viktor picked up another card.

Page of Cups.

Having two aces as first cards for both acolytes was interesting.

"Intriguing," admitted Eris as she collected the cards into a single deck to observe the shadow card.

Her eyes landed on you, stunned. You could feel what was about to happen.

"No," you breathed, "not him."

"Yes," confirmed Eris, "him."

Eris then held up the Emperor's card, and you brought your fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

"That bad?" Inquired Viktor, surprised.

"No, it's not bad." You laughed to yourself for a moment, turning your gaze to his. "The cards are just very playful, that's all."

Eris set the deck down on the table, the Emperor facing Viktor.

"I suppose you met this Emperor in another reading?" he suggested.

You moistened your lips, tilting your head to the side. "Not just that."

Eris laughed with her nose, catching herself as she straightened up.

"One day," you said to Viktor, "I'll explain the whys and wherefores, don't worry."

He nodded weakly, turning to Eris. He seemed a little nervous, and you were discovering this phenomenon in him. He could be tense, but nervous?

"To begin with, then, the Ace of Swords, like the Ace of Pentacles, is a possibility, a spark that hasn't yet produced anything, but which puts us in the right field. The crown indicates that intelligence is the queen faculty. The palm on the right and the laurel branch on the left are symbols of victory."

Viktor like victory, of course.

"Intelligence is the highest of our faculties, enabling us to rise to the highest heights; it is what makes us a thinking creature. As for the mountains, they represent elevation, the sometimes arid and cold summits of thought. It's a card that represents intelligence and the fact that you can count on it in any situation."

Viktor turned to you, smiling. "You'd rather have that card for yourself than for me, wouldn't you?"

You chuckled. "Maybe once, but now I'm leaving it to you."

He seemed surprised by your answer for a moment, pressing his lips together for a second as he turned back to Eris who was changing cards.

"Now it's the Knight of Pentacles' turn. He represents reliability. He's down to earth, he does what needs to be done without question. This is the card of routine. In terms of symbols, on his helmet and in the horse's ears, there are oak leaves to remind us of what is rooted, powerful and takes time. The soil has furrows in it, so it's about being rooted to the earth, about regular, long, cyclical work like farming, where you have to show stamina and well-applied physical strength.’

"My perfect picture, I am the very definition of athleticism while my colleague Jayce Talis the skinny watches me do my thing in my corner," Viktor joked as he retrieved his cane in hand.

"Don't put the blame on me," interjected Jayce, "I offered to train at least your upper body when you sometimes come with me to the forge."

Viktor rolled his eyes, waiting for the rest of what Eris had to say.

"In any case, the Knight of Pentacles is the definition of moving slowly but surely, with methods that may not be original, but are tried and tested. It's a knight slow to anger who won't take the first step without being reassured of the other's intentions. If there is to be a meeting, it must take time to develop into a solid friendship before it is possible to move on to something more."

Viktor seemed to be playing with his cane, but was listening carefully to what Eris had to say. You remembered the day you read the information on the Knight of Pentacles' card. Physical and sensual. You began to blame the fire in the fireplace for the heat that was rising in your cheeks.

"Now let's move on to our last blade, the Page of Cups." She picked up the card in question. "The Page of Cups discovers, so in the emotional frame of the Cups, he discovers an idea. We welcome new information; we examine a way of thinking or a way of relating facts, of news that affects us."

Again she began to point to the various symbols one by one as you bent to see them better.

"The little fish swimming in the cup, to which the Page gives a sympathetic ear, represents the little voice of intuition, that elusive mystery that lives in our depths and sometimes comes to speak to us. The water lily flowers on his shirt can refer to sleep and the messages of dreams, as well as to the sacred nature of sensitivity that takes root in the depths. On all the cut figures, the water represents the changing and fluid nature of emotions, as well as their depth."

She placed the card on the table. "This is the card of announcement, of wonder, of joy, of something that touches. I should point out that it's still a card that's recognised as being very romantic, but not only that. It's the card of love, but it's also the card of a new friendship, the one that makes you discover that you really care about someone."

You bit the inside of your lips, the heat spreading from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, which you covered with your hand, a ghostly memory of Viktor's breath washing over you.

"At last," Eris grasped the Emperor's card, "the card of stability and anchoring that is the Emperor represents you here."

"Me? The Emperor?" Repeated Viktor, pointing his finger at himself.

"Yes," you said under your breath.

He turned to you for a moment, and you knew full well that when he found the time to discuss it with you, he wouldn't miss the opportunity.

"The Emperor completes the Empress's teaching by introducing the idea of rule, law and structure. Discipline doesn't mean giving in to the first distraction. He is a man who teaches us to take responsibility without deviating, to defend our principles without failing, to be obedient without letting ourselves be influenced. That's where his authority comes from - this lucid examination, it's the foundation that makes us sure, and allows us to act without wavering." She then placed the card back on the deck, closing the reading.

You had a feeling that Viktor wouldn't be the only one thinking about this reading. The cards reflected each other so perfectly it was impressive.

"Any questions?" Eris asked simply as she gathered up the cards and put them back in the box.

"How long have you been practising," Jayce asked, turning to her.

"I'd say... seven years?" She said, turning to you to make sure she was right.

"And a half," you added as she handed you the box of your tarot.

"Is this yours?" Asked Viktor.

"Yes, I draw one every morning to see what the day has in store or for advice," you explained.

Viktor turned to Eris and said, "Where do you practise?"

"In one of the streets on the entresol level."

"Could I have the address?"

She seemed as surprised as you, glancing at you then back to Viktor. "An interest in spirituality?"

He exchanged a look with you. "Now yes."

After giving her shop address to Viktor, he and Jayce excused themselves and left to make sure all the boxes and other luggage were ready for the next day's departure.

You and Eris were back upstairs, you preparing the evening meal while she rushed to the shower to warm up from the absence of the fire she already missed so much.

You couldn't stop thinking about Viktor, about the changes, the ideas swarming around in your mind without ever finding respite or giving you any. You felt that the fact that he would no longer be in the building tomorrow gave you the impression that his absence would force you to think only of him.

But another subject was about to hit you, bitter, fearsome.

Eris stepped out of the shower, droplets of water beading from her hair and running down her tattooed arms. She crossed her arms seriously, pressing her shoulder against the doorframe as she crossed her leg.

"Do you remember my letter, when I mentioned there was something I needed to talk to you about?"

You stirred the forest pan over the stove, not looking away from the task as you expected mere gossip in the rising streets of Zaun. "Mhm?"

She sighed, watching you sternly.

"The child disappearances have started up again."

You froze in your tracks, the sound of the hood and the oil cooking the vegetables fading into a distant blur of sound.

You turned to Eris, almost trying to get her to repeat what she'd just said, as if she'd just resurrected an entire graveyard. "What?"

"Not just in Zaun," she continued, just as austerely, "I've had customers from Piltover. It's starting here too. It's very small and tiny as a disappearance compared to Zaun, but it's still there."

"Are you absolutely sure?" you asked, registering this information almost robotically.

She nodded. "When Renata Glasc came into my shop and I made her reader, she said his name."

You huffed, as if someone had just punched you in the stomach and expelled all the air your lungs held.

"Is the situation under hand?"

"Glasc is on it from what I know."

You huffed with difficulty. "Could you um..." you felt your throat tighten, "could you continue cooking? I'm think I need a shower.

She smiled at you, a thin, empathetic one. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," you barely managed to say before moving towards the bathroom and carefully closing the door behind you.

Silently, with hasty movements as if all your clothes were ten times too hot on your skin, you got rid of each layer at record speed and turned on the water.

Your whole body was shaking like a leaf, your breath coming fast as you passed under the hot spray. Your eyes clouded over in a blur of tears, your whole face tensing, your brow furrowing as your nose scrunched up and your lips curled. You drew a huge, rapid, jerky breath, anger and despair contorting every feature of your face until your forehead ached as your hands ran over them as if trying to erase it, to dilute it under the shower water until everything was smooth and clean and you were pure again.

Your back jolted despite the warmth of the water running down your spine, the sobs attacking you as you placed one hand on the wall to keep yourself upright while the second pressed against your mouth to prevent any sound escaping from the prison bars of your fingers.

You only gave yourself a few moments to cry before letting the salt on your cheeks be washed away by the clear water of Piltover and turning off the shower. You didn't want to abuse it, even if all the drops it could have spilled down your body would never have been enough to bring the rain that would wash away the past!

Today had been too full changes, of emotions, of movements and unpredictable things that weighed on your mind like an elephant.

When you got out of the shower, Eris had already prepared the table and served your two plates.

"You know," she said with her mouth full, raising her fork in the air, "it's a bit hard to tell how you and Viktor stand."

You were still relieved at Eris's understanding. She had seen you cry very little over the years, the habit of choosing the excuse of the shower to have a moment when your sensitivity could take over and go beyond the limit of your eyes having come early in your friendship. And when you came back, she always had a different subject to discuss to take your mind off things.

With a tired smile, you took the chair opposite her and sat down.

"What do you mean?"

She took care to chew her mouthful to the end, winding her index finger in the air to ask you to wait. "Well," she finally swallowed, "I saw you staring at each other. I just can't be certain if it was sexual tension or murderous rage."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes still stinging from your tears and wrinkling with admiration for her.

The evening continued on a variety of topics, with countless teases about Viktor, who seemed to be burning a hole in her lip.

And when you both went to bed to find respite, the walk in the cold having knocked Eris out with sleep, yours didn't come. The cards all came back into your head like emblematic figures from a distant story, a fairy tale with final lessons for little children.

You thought of the Empress and the Emperor. You thought of yourself, of Viktor.

The same warm palpitations in your heart and stomach returned as you thought of him. You brought one to the one, the second to the other, like a stethoscope trying to discern any worries or disturbances.

It was warm, sweet, it was a hope that sprang up in your soul and filled you completely.

Did the Empress have a metaphorical womb pregnant with a budding love, ready to grow?

You thought back to Eris's words.

I think he's the first one who's reached your level, and managed to keep up with you without ever tiring, always trying to bring out the parts of you that you don't show to others.

Was it the warmth that sprang up deep inside you, like a candle in the darkness of a cavern containing thousands of crystals ready to sparkle, that he brought out?

When morning came, you had given up on the idea of sleeping and sat on your windowsill to watch the sun emerge in the distance.

You had thought for so long in the silence of this room that the inside of your body was a constant echo of thoughts reverberating against the walls of your skin and every corner of your mind. The sun was the first to say hello, and you smiled at it as it caressed your cheek with its warmth.

You'd fought with it so much that it had made your cheeks red. And you wanted to catch him, to hold him close to your chest so that he could feel the warmth of your heart, so much so that the night fell away. And now that you'd got to know the moon thanks to him, you told yourself that you'd just put everything out like a poor cigarette. But we're talking about the moon, and the sun, that's not nothing.

His reality had made the wheat grow, and the truth had made men eat, but reality was coming towards you little by little with a flag, staggering.

Down below, approaching the building in the soft silence of the morning and the waking city, a van pulled up.

The day was here, and you wanted to bury it in a suitcase to let the night stay a little longer, to keep the moonlight on your skin and in the glow of your eyes.

Your gaze turned away from the truck for a moment, back to the dressing room. The coat.

In the greatest of hasty silences, you pulled on a heavy jumper, trotting on tiptoe to the dressing room to pick up the coat that still had his smell on it. You gently turned the key to the apartment, moving from the silence of the bedroom to that of the corridor bathed in half-light.

You hurried down the stairs, praying that the van hadn't left, that they hadn't left, and that you'd be able to say ‘see you soon’.

When you got downstairs, Viktor was standing in front of the entrance, just beyond the door, outside, with his back to you.

You inhaled, trying to hide your miserable gasping breath deep in your chest.

You were moving forward, feeling cold. The coat could have given you that warmth, but you didn't put it on. Your hand came to rest on the handle of the golden door, and you pushed it open despite the trembling you presumed to be due to the fatigue of a sleepless night.

Viktor turned and his eyes fell on you. His expression wasn't wide with surprise, and his eyebrows weren't furrowed, but you could feel a flicker of regret on his face that was swept away as soon as he realised it was you.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the stillness of the morning making you both feel as if the whole town would wake up at once if you spoke.

"Hey," you managed to say softly.

He gave a surprised little smile. "Hey."

You breathed in, swallowing as you tried to work out if all the ideas you'd been fed about him wanted to come back through your throat.

"So uh," you jerked your chin towards the van, "you're all set to go ?

Miserable small talk.

Viktor looked at you calmly. ‘The removal man is still inside picking up the rest of the boxes."

"Oh," you nodded, "Jayce isn't with you?"

"He's gone to the flat to settle the last few things that needed his attention."

His eyes never left you, his face a peaceful, unchanged emotion. It feels like a dream, you thought, but it's not, and that's probably the most reassuring thing about it.

You tightened your grip on the coat slightly, and finally let the breath you'd been holding expel itself from your lungs.

"You're fierce as my rival," you admitted, "but I think I prefer you better when you're not."

Viktor remained motionless for a moment, the light breeze in the air combing a few strands of his hair. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, barely rising.

"What good is a truce if we're not rivals anymore, then?" he asked.

"The truce can just turn into a deal," you suggested almost hastily, "a friends' deal."

He smiled at last, and your stomach warmed in the dead of winter.

"Friends," he repeated as if testing the taste the word had in his mouth, "I like the sound of that."

You smiled back, and relief washed over you.

He changed the grip on his cane, straightening up. "Any clauses you want to add to the truce, Miss?"

You couldn't help asking. "Why do you call me Miss all the time?"

His eyes remained serenely in yours, silently letting a moment pass.

"I can't say yet. Someday, maybe," he replied as if he'd just come back from somewhere else.

You nodded. "Alright." You straightened your back and cleared your throat before raising your eyebrows. "I just have one clause then."

"Go on," he nodded, curious.

A satisfied smirk spread across your face. "All your coffees are free if you come by the Brown Bitt, so you better come often with such an offer."

He laughed softly, his eyes dropping to his shoes for a moment before returning to yours.

"I'd be a fool to refuse such a discount."

"Well," you shrugged, "there is some kind of dignity being the first fool of the academy."

"Last time I checked," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you're the first of the Academy."

"Last time I checked with Eris, one and two together make the three of creativity." You smiled. "What did Heimerdinger say again? About us joining our forces for the presentation."

Viktor sighed, starting to recite. "There's no need to point out that you two are the sharpest elements of this class - you're well enough aware of that, as is the rest of the school certainly. None of the fellow teachers in this establishment seem to have brought to the table, however, a possibility which seems to me to be the most interesting for both of you."

"Teamwork," you both pronounced, nodding and smiling.

"You remember it so vividly," you grinned, impressed.

He nodded. "Eh, better have a sharp memory and wit to follow with Heimerdinger, if you can't race."

Your lips parted, remembering a little too well the first day we worked together. "Please tell me Jayce never heard of this."

"I recite your words to him every night before sleeping like a prayer," he sneered.

Another moment of silence passed, both your breaths billowing in the air.

"When we'll all be settled," he finally said, "come to the flat."

You clasped your hands together. "Is that a challenge?"

"No," he chuckled, "just an invitation."

‘"As long as you don't organise masquerades in Jayce's apartment every other night, I will."

"Nah," he admitted as the wrinkles in his nose crinkled for a moment, "we keep that outside our explosive apartment."

It was refreshing to be able to listen to Viktor's comments and not find annoyance in them, just laughter.

"Speaking of masquerades," you realised as you handed him his perfectly smooth coat, "I took care of it."

His leather-gloved fingers closed over the dark fabric.

"I'm sure you did," he said, his eyes moving from the fabric to yours.

Behind you, you heard the distinct sound of castors on the floor of the hall, and turned towards the man dragging a trolley with a few boxes piled on it.

"All clean," he warned as he passed you both and began to stack the boxes in the back of the vehicle.

He quickly closed the boot and climbed into the front seat next to the steering wheel.

"See you to the demacia boarding airship?" asked Viktor.

You smiled. "Don't be late."

He gave you one last smile.

"No chance."

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

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#a crown of ink #acoi #viktor x reader #arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor fic #arcane fanfic #viktor x you #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you

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strangererotica · 6 months ago

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steddie Gladiator AU - Emperor Geta x Empress Reader x Gladiator Steve

Includes: lots of drama, power imbalance & abuse of power, infidelity, Geta is a cruel, sadistic husband to reader, forced intercourse & pregnancy, violent language used, character death implied, unhappy ending.

He was a slave who fought in the arena against his will. You were a slave of a different kind, married to an emperor against your will. By all accounts, your paths should never have crossed. Yet somehow, they did.

You didn’t even know the man’s name, and you didn’t need to. It didn’t matter that he was a slave, beneath you in every way…except for when he was on top of you…his muscular arms enveloping you, his thick cock pumping between your legs.

In battle, he was savage, vicious in his quest to survive the arena. But in your bed, he was everything the opposite of brutality. He loved you tenderly, cherishing you. Your husband the Emperor had never made love to you, only fucked you, not unlike the way he treated his concubines.

Geta was cruel to you, deriving pleasure from your sorrow, from both the physical and emotional pain he caused you. One way the Emperor achieved this was by taking you anally every single time he fucked you. With absolutely no concern or care with preparing you for penetration, your husband took what he believed was his by right. He refused to fuck your cunt lest he accidentally come inside you, because denying you the possibility of pregnancy was another way the Emperor expressed his cruelty. One of his more sinister goals was to ensure that his first heir be conceived with a concubine, instead of his wife. What a humiliation for you, Geta reasoned, to deceive all of Rome into thinking a whore could provide him an heir, while his own wife could not.

But your lover, the slave, the fighter, was gentle and sweet with you. He made love to you any way you wished, because for him, your pleasure was his pleasure. He avoided coming inside you, however, to avoid the suspicion of the Emperor. Should you fall pregnant, the revelation of your affair would be inevitable. And you both knew that if your husband learned of your adultery, he’d execute you both, brutally.

In private, the gladiator longed for you. He spent every endless night you were apart dreaming, (as you did) of an escape…of a world in which you could both be free.

Tragically, it didn’t take long for the Emperor to learn of your affair. However loyal your handmaidens were to you, they were not so loyal as to risk their lives to protect your secret. Geta had spies in every corner of the palace, always listening, always watching. The Emperor was a jealous, paranoid man. He frequently put servants to death whom he feared may be plotting against him. Always in the back of his mind, lingered the fear of assassination from one of his numerous enemies. Geta had very little trust in any of the men he kept company with. He trusted his wife even less.

Keeping your relationship with the gladiator a secret was virtually impossible, under the regime Geta operated. And even without Geta’s spies, your attraction to the gladiator could not be easily concealed. You watched him fight, seated beside your husband, who took more interest in your studying the gladiator than he did the fight itself. Emperor Geta wondered what it was about this slave, apart from all the others, who had captured your affection in such a way? He envied the lust you clearly felt for him. Geta saw the way you squirmed in your seat while watching this man fight, in a way you never did for any of the other hundreds of slaves who had fought and died in front of you. Geta noticed the way your hands rested on your lap throughout each battle, how your fingers dipped ever-so-subtly to touch yourself when you thought your husband wasn’t looking.

A twisted new idea bloomed in the Emperor’s depraved mind. How exciting would it be, he imagined, to confront his wife and her lover in the midst of committing their sin? The following night, flanked by two armed guards, Geta ambushed you and your lover in your bedchamber. As his men drew their swords, he threw himself across your body, shielding you. “Do not take her life, I beg of you,” the slave implored, anger simmering in his eyes like fire. “If revenge is what you desire, then pay what is owed with my blood-.” He swallowed, squeezing your wrist. “-Not hers. She is innocent of all wrong. I…” Your lover quickly formed a lie, which he hoped would convince the Emperor to spare you. “…I forced myself upon the Empress, your grace. I attacked her while she slept, unattended by her maids-.”

Geta interrupted by clapping his hands in a sarcastic applause. “Your lies are noble, slave,” Geta jeered. “Quite an excellent performance, in fact. But unfortunately for you and my wife, your efforts at deceit are made in vain.” The Emperor’s wild eyes landed on you, a chill crawling under your skin. “I’ve known of your traitorous affair for weeks, my wife.” He took a step toward you, his pale skin illuminated like a ghost by the single candle burning at your bedside. He reached to touch you; you flinched when his cold skin made contact with your cheek. Geta smirked wickedly, before shifting his attention to your lover.

“It has been reported,” the Emperor continued. “That when you fuck my wife, your seed never enters her.” Geta tipped his head, curious. “Why is that, slave?” When your lover failed to respond immediately, the Emperor shoved his face within an inch of the gladiator’s, and shouted “TELL ME, while you still have the luxury of breath!” He spat at your lover’s eyes, as tears streamed from yours.

“It is a protection, my lord,” you managed to say, your voice high and wavering. “He did not want to overstep a line, by making me with child-.”

Geta interrupted with a cruel, maniacal laughter that startled even the guards behind him. “Overstep a line?!” he parroted back at you. “As if allowing a filthy slave to touch you was not?? His body still caked in dirt and blood from the arena-?” Geta struck you across the cheek, making you cry out. Your lover lunged for the Emperor, and was met with the tips of two swords placed at his neck.

“I once thought,” Geta mused, an eerie calm tinting his speech. “That to sire an heir with a concubine would be the ultimate method of humiliating you, my darling.” His fingers caressed the raised welt forming on your cheek where his hand had struck you. “But I clearly lacked imagination,” he continued. “Because perhaps nothing would shame you more, dear wife, than to be forced to carry the child of a slave…” Geta smiled villainously, his body teeming with a quiet rage. “…Forced to watch your lover killed,” he continued. “Brutally, horribly…while carrying the bastard child he’ll never have the chance to know-.”

The gladiator jerked, prompting the guards’ blades deeper against his flesh, piercing it slightly. “-That,” Geta concluded. “Would be the ultimate punishment befitting a traitorous whore like you.” He stepped back, encouraging his men to do the same. As their blades left your lover’s neck, he turned to face you, his eyes desperate and longing, moving a hand to tenderly caress your wound.

“You will impregnate her,” the Emperor demanded, nodding to the bed on which you both were seated. “Now.”

The gladiator took your hand, squeezing it gently, his expression defeated.

“Let her know the pain,” Geta added, a sick grin on his lips. “Of feeling a dead man’s child kick and squirm in her polluted womb…”

You bit your lip to restrain a flood of tears that begged release, looking into the eyes of the man you loved. His tenderness was the only love you’d ever received, and he’d given it freely, knowing the risk it carried.

“NOW!” Geta shouted, his voice rattling with rage, spit flinging from his mouth. The gladiator nuzzled his nose against yours, his hand still softly caressing your cheek, his voice low and gentle as he whispered, “it is only us…” You tried not to sob as he repeated, his words a hypnotic balm, “it is only…us…you and I alone, my love…”

As you sank gratefully with him inside the fantasy his words encouraged, the world around you both began to fade. Your husband’s voice felt far away, as he shouted once more for the slave to obey his command. And like a dream, a beautiful dream you’d lived so many times before, your lover laid you softly back against the bed…and made love to you, for the very last time…

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maryannecrimsworth · 30 days ago

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Dance with me

Pairing: Mel Medarda x Winged! Reader

Summary: a part 3 of A wolf, a witch, a lover; after months hiding, Mel surprises you in the morning with an dangerous proposal

Part 1, Part 2

Warnings: there's a bit of tension and drama in this one, slightly violent, end is cute though

Mentions: i'm honestly writing this for you guys @jinxjinxjinx12 @superbscissorsdeanexpert @maq34 @justyourwritter69 @powderbomb-jinxed

Your nights together carried the weight of unspoken words and the release of hours of restraint. In her arms, you felt a vulnerability that no battlefield had ever exposed in you. Her touch was deliberate, soft yet commanding, like everything else about her. It reminded you of why she was both a ruler and a temptation—a paradox you couldn’t resist. Every day you'd bowe before her, obedient and willingly as her general; every night, you'd hold her like a lover, and cherish her as long as the night allowed. You'd lose and gain each other every day, every night — and you loved it every single time. A second by her side made you forever grateful, even if it eventually came to an end.

Tonight was no different.

The dawn came too soon, as it usually did, its golden light filtering through the grand windows of her chamber. Mel lay curled against you, her breath steady, her features softened in sleep. For a fleeting moment, she wasn’t the Empress of Noxus but simply a woman who had let down her guard. The world outside the room seemed like a distant memory, but reality wouldn’t wait forever.

Your nights started to be like this: with love and companion, a warm embrace after the hardship of duty. However, the morning always came, and so have your time: you had to leave her side.

You stirred, careful not to wake her, though your movements caused her to shift slightly. Her voice, still thick with sleep, broke the silence.

“Leaving already, General?”

You froze, caught halfway between duty and desire.

“I thought it best to avoid prying eyes,” you replied, your voice hushed. “The palace wakes early, and whispers spread faster than the wind.”

Mel’s lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes still closed. “Let them whisper. I tire of hiding.”

Her words surprised you. For months, you had both maintained this facade, a calculated distance to preserve her authority. Yet now, as the sunlight illuminated her face, she seemed to suggest something different.

“Your position—your vision for Noxus—it could be jeopardized,” you warned, though your voice lacked conviction.

Mel finally opened her eyes, fixing you with that piercing golden gaze. “If they cannot respect an Empress who loves, then they are not fit to serve this nation.”

The weight of her words settled in your chest, but before you could respond, a sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.

“Empress Medarda,” a servant’s voice called from the other side. “Your council awaits your presence in the Great Hall.”

Mel sighed, the spell of intimacy breaking as she rose from the bed. Her golden tattoos caught the morning light, a reminder of her unyielding strength. She glanced back at you, her expression a mixture of fondness and resolve.

“Duty calls,” she said softly, echoing your words from some nights before.

You nodded, adjusting your uniform. “As it always does.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing your arm. “But don’t think for a moment that this ends our conversation.”

Her touch lingered for a heartbeat before she pulled away, leaving you alone in the room to process the weight of her promise.

The day passed in a blur of meetings and preparations. Reports from the shadow unit demanded your immediate attention, and though your thoughts often drifted back to her, you forced yourself to focus.

By evening, you found yourself summoned again—not to the battlefield, but to her private study.

“General,” she greeted as you entered, her tone formal yet warm. She sat at her desk, surrounded by maps and papers, the burden of leadership evident in her posture.

“You requested me, Empress?”

Mel gestured for you to approach, her expression unreadable.

"I have a question for you," she began, pausing before continuing. "How were alliances celebrated in Karyndor?" Her tone was as steady as her gaze, which was fixed on your face. "I’d like to learn more about your homeland."

“We didn’t usually celebrate military or political alliances with the people,” you replied briefly. “The king was keen to keep civil life separate from diplomatic conflicts.”

A subtle smile lifted the corners of Mel’s lips. “No, I meant civilian alliances.”

“Oh.” That was all you managed to say, which only caused Mel’s smile to widen.

“So, how were they celebrated?” she repeated, giving you little time to regain your composure. You could feel your cheeks flush under her watchful gaze.

“It involved a great festival, a ritual that brought together thousands of people.” You spoke slowly, your words drifting into the quiet of the study as you began to pace. “Sometimes several unions were celebrated at once; sometimes, just one. The interested parties would perform a unique dance—a reflection of each individual Karyndorian’s spirit. If the proposal was accepted, their beloved would join in the dance. An alliance was formed in this way.”

Your wings fluttered gently behind you, as if remembering the songs and movements of the rituals. “The wings of the participants were adorned with ornaments, serving as a vital part of the performance. Through them, they displayed their strength and beauty; they symbolized who they were.” A quiet laugh escaped your lips. “If the proposal was rejected, the dancer was required to take flight and keep going until they collapsed from exhaustion. Their honor was preserved only if their effort pushed them to the very edge.”

“What a unique celebration!” Mel exclaimed, her voice brimming with genuine excitement. “Your people must have been artistic and deeply passionate.”

Her sentence was followed by a long, steadfast silence. You said nothing as the realization of her intent started to fall upon you.

After some time, your feet stopped in place, your wings dropped in a cessation of every movement. Her steady gaze on yours, the stirring meaning behind her question, they had paralyzed you.

“Why do you wish to hear about the covenants of my former people, Empress?”

“I told you our conversation wasn’t finished,” she began, but her sentence was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock at the study door.

Her smiling, calm countenance hardened, and her voice carried weight as she turned toward the entrance: “A meeting is in progress.”

Despite the Empress’s commanding tone, the door opened.

“Forgive me, Empress.” One of your soldiers stepped inside, his body trembling. He bowed to the Empress before turning to you. “It’s urgent.”

Mel cast you a worried glance, which you answered with an assuring nod. A threat existed in the city, you were aware, but your shadow unit monitored the situation closely. No surprises would befall the nation.

“Excuse me, ma'am. I must go.” You bade farewell with a respectful nod and left the room with the nervous soldier by your side.

“The guardians are requesting reinforcements for the harvest parade,” the soldier’s voice barely rose above a whisper, lost in the vast corridors of the palace. His tone carried the weight of fear, as though he dreaded being overheard. “They’ve received threats from insurgents—an attack planned during the empress’s speech.”

Your jaw clenched instinctively, and your hand tightened around the hilt of your sword.

“How do they know it’s the insurgents?”

“They signed it, sir. The Red Stain.” The soldier halted abruptly, hesitating. With a trembling hand, he reached into his iron vest and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper. “Here.”

The note passed into your hands, its scarlet letters glowing ominously against the dark parchment. The message bristled with malice, vowing vengeance against the empress who had "ruined the warrior nation." Along the edges of the paper were the same cryptic symbols and markings that had appeared in alleys and at crime scenes for months, unmistakably linking it to the rebellious occult group.

“They claim they’ll take back the nation of Noxus—once and for all,” the soldier repeated as you scanned the words. “The parade route is the perfect place, general. There are too many civilians for us to act freely. Our hands will be tied, and a tragedy will happen if we don’t cancel the event.”

“Is that what the guardians intend to do?” Your voice remained steady, though his panic grated on you. His demeanor was uncharacteristic of your army—it sounded more like the fearful prattle of civil guardians. He shook his head. “That's what the Stain wants, soldier. To terrorize the people, to show itself to be stronger than us. Its words cannot have such power.”

The soldier's eyes widened.

“What do you mean?” he asked in a sharp grunt.

“Tell the guardians to be ready, but our soldiers won't get involved. There's no need to alarm the people in such a way.”

“But sir---”

“Go!”

The soldier hesitated briefly before retreating, his hurried footsteps fading down the corridor.

There were only a few hours until the parade, a short period of time to mobilize your battalions and organize a proper security perimeter for the celebration. A rushed response would create chaos—the very commotion you suspected the insurgents desired. It was a ploy, you were certain, to keep all eyes fixed on the parade while the rest of the city was left vulnerable.

Even so, you couldn’t gamble with the lives of your citizens on mere intuition. You ordered a few reinforcements for the parade but insisted they remain as shadows—officers blending seamlessly into the crowd, discreet yet ready to strike if the need arise.

But the question gnawed at you relentlessly: Where would they want me not to look during Mel’s speech?

The empress changed the colors of the nation, as well as its brutal attitude. From a country stained with blood, always dressed in dark and red colors, prepared for battle, to the streets of the Noxinian cities reflecting light and golden beams. The peaceful purity of the color white, the golden diplomacy of a flexible nation - the colors of Mel - had dressed Noxus perfectly. The population accepted the changes, even its soldiers changed their uniforms with a hopeful disposition. The future had arrived: the nation state of Noxus was bright and peaceful, with no bloodstains. However, not all Noxians were happy. The red stain was a small but insistent group of citizens attached to the old, violent regime. Because of this, they began to attack former servants, freed prisoners of war, immigrants - anyone who was considered a threat to the deceased Ambessa was also a threat and target for them.

The attacks, however, were small and quickly contained by the local guard. There was no significant threat, not until now. The letter really was frightening, and would have scared most of the military officers you knew. After all, the new military officers of Noxus were still inexperienced, and any threat to their people was enough to agitate them. It was understandable, but it couldn't be allowed.

With your experience in Karyndor, you knew that there would always be dissenters against the government. Violent opposition would exist, it was almost natural on the continent. Even Mel couldn't please everyone, so you waited. You noticed the bluff and withdrew your army from the parade. As you had hoped, nothing happened. The people celebrated happily, the empress's speech was greeted with nothing but applause and the festivities lasted until nightfall. The guardians held their positions without any problems, and your shadows remained silent. It was a good night, from what you heard from the castle servants. Festive, pleasant and comforting. A new tradition that brightened the lives of the citizens.

You were happy to hear how the evening had unfolded. After a few more reports and messages from the guard, your services were no longer required and you made your way down to the most secluded part of the palace. Mel had already returned and was resting in her quarters, and you planned to join her without delay.

Your room was empty and tidy, as usual. A servant opened the door for you and greeted you with a nod, but avoided your gaze. His eyes, for some reason, ran away from your figure. The door was closed behind you and then you heard it: hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor outside.

Something was wrong.

A deafening rumble echoed from the far side of the building, shaking the palace’s floors and walls. The table Mel was leaning on quivered violently, scattering her documents and belongings onto the ground. She sprang to her feet, the golden markings on her body shimmering brilliantly in the face of the unexpected danger. Outside, the night’s calm gave way to chaos—a cacophony of despairing cries and commanding shouts tore through the air.

“What’s happened?” Mel demanded, grabbing the first servant who crossed her path. She stopped him mid-escape, desperate for answers. The man’s face was pale with terror, his lips quivering as he failed to form a response. “Speak to me! What are you—”

“Empress, come with us.” Two uniformed officers appeared, their movements urgent. “There’s been an attack in the western sector. We’re evacuating the palace.”

The western sector. The words struck Mel like an arrow, stealing her breath. It was your sector, the area where your room was—the very reason you hadn’t been by her side tonight.

“Take me there. I’ll fight alongside my army.” Her voice was resolute, her authority unshaken, but her command was met only with hesitant glances exchanged between the officers.

“Protect the subjects,” she continued, her tone sharpening. “Surround the perimeter and search for suspects. We must find out who’s behind this.”

Without waiting for their acknowledgment or actions, Mel charged in the opposite direction of the evacuation route, weaving through a panicked crowd of crying and frantic servants. Only one of the officers dared follow her.

“We’re already taking care of that, ma’am. Please come with us and stay safe.” The officer reached out, his hand gripping the determined ruler’s arm. “Those are the general’s orders.”

Mel twisted free with a sharp, fluid motion, her golden markings glinting as she turned to face the insistent man.

“And where are they?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. She didn’t wait for an answer, turning on her heel and running toward the source of the explosion. She refused to let herself acknowledge the fear in the officer’s eyes or the haunting possibility that awaited her— she couldn't see the wail of death imminently, not when it came to you.

It felt like the longest path she had ever walked. Every step seemed heavier, every corridor an endless expanse. Obstacles littered the way—fallen debris, frightened servants, soldiers trying to guide her to safety. Yet, the empress pushed forward with unyielding determination, even as her body trembled beneath the weight of dread.

Her subjects caught glimpses of her as she passed, their tense faces softening with relief. To them, she was a beacon of strength and composure. But inside, her resolve wavered, her composure fragile. Her eyes remained dry, her focus unwavering only for now.

She had to find you.

Your room was utterly destroyed. The walls were streaked with dirty red, a grotesque smear of what could have been paint—or blood. Shattered furniture lay in disarray, splinters scattered like shrapnel. Pieces of weapons and scraps of your clothing were strewn everywhere. The floor was littered with burnt feathers, a haunting reminder of what had transpired.

Mel stepped forward, her breath caught in her throat, but the officer blocked her path again.

“Let us handle our work, ma’am. Stay safe, with your people,” he insisted, his voice firmer now. “Please.”

“Your work?” Her voice rose, sharp and thunderous, cutting through the air like lightning splitting the sky. “Your work to prevent attacks like this?”

The officer faltered, his words catching in his throat as he struggled for a response. His gaze darted away, unable to meet the fire in the empress’s eyes. Mel seized the opportunity, taking a step forward, but he quickly moved to block her path again.

“We weren’t caught off guard, ma’am,” he said, though his tone wavered with guilt. “Please go.”

Before she could retort, a new sound shattered the tense air of the evacuated palace. It came first as a faint echo, then grew louder—a chilling chorus of howls and exultant cheers from outside. The sharp contrast to the earlier screams of despair sent an icy shiver through her body.

Without hesitation, Mel turned and ran toward the source of the noise. Her heart thudded violently in her chest with each step, her mind consumed by fear. Her tears had already begun to fall, trailing streaks down her face as she pushed through the chaos. She came to an abrupt stop when the scene unfolded before her.

There, in front of the palace entrance, hovering above the garden and the evacuated crowd, was you.

Your wings, bruised and outstretched, bore the weight of your body in the air. The full moon’s glow framed your figure, casting a ghostly light over the scene. Crimson streaked your form, glinting in the pale illumination—blood or paint, she couldn’t tell. But the sight of you, battered and defiant, stole the breath from her lungs. Mel stood frozen, her trembling hands clenched at her sides as her heart screamed what her lips could not: You’re alive.

In your hands, however, was an unconscious man. Your landing in the palace garden was uncharacteristically clumsy, each movement more crude and careless than usual. With little ceremony, you released the man from your grasp, letting him drop to the ground.

“Is anyone hurt?” Those were the first words she heard you say, your voice carrying over the distance between you. Despite everything, the sound of it filled her with a rush of relief. Like Mel, the servants and soldiers were overjoyed to see you, quickly forming a circle around you. “He was fleeing just before the explosion,” you continued, your tone brisk and authoritative as you gestured toward the unconscious man. “He’s one of the suspects. The officers will bring in more once they finish securing the perimeter. Send them all to the cells—investigation only comes after ensuring everyone’s safety.” Command after command fell from your lips as you directed the soldiers with unrelenting precision.

But before you could say more, the crowd parted, and Mel burst through with a speed that drew every eye.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the Empress flung herself into your arms, wrapping them tightly around your neck. Her grip trembled, a desperate hold that spoke of fear, relief, and a hundred emotions in between.

You froze, caught off guard, your body stiffening as the weight of her embrace pressed against you. Everyone was watching—the soldiers, the servants, the officers—but Mel didn’t seem to care. Her head buried in your shoulder, she held on as though she might lose you again.

For a moment, it felt as if the world had paused, leaving only the two of you in its stillness.

“Empress?” you whispered, your voice faltering as you tried—and failed—to return to formality.

“Y/N, are you hurt?” Mel stepped back just enough to scan your body, her gaze sharp and searching. The wet paint staining your skin had transferred to her once-immaculate clothing, vivid streaks of blood-red marring the pristine fabric. But she didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t care.

Your armor was cracked from the explosion, and beneath it, cuts and bruises mapped your skin. The red marks covering your body weren’t just paint.

“There’s a fortress to the north of the palace,” Mel continued, her voice steady despite the tremor in her eyes. “We’ll be safe there.”

“You heard her, soldiers,” you commanded, turning to the gathered crowd. “Guide the people. Call the local guard and cordon off the area. Keep your eyes open.”

You avoided looking at her, your focus fixed on the soldiers and servants around you. Anything to avoid meeting her gaze. You feared that if you did, if you saw the pain in her eyes, the emotions you kept buried would surface, and everyone would know. They’d see the feelings you had for each other.

“You need medical attention.” Her voice was barely a whisper, soft and filled with concern, as her hand reached out to touch the crack in your armor. You flinched, recoiling from her gentle fingers—not because of the pain, but because of the others watching. Her touch was too intimate, too exposing. “Come with me,” she urged, her voice firm but laced with vulnerability.

Finally, you looked at her. The moonlight bathed her face, illuminating the fear in her watery eyes. It was a look you had never seen before, not in her. It was unbearable, impossible to resist. You sighed, the weight of her gaze breaking through your defenses. The command was quickly delegated to a trusted officer, and you surrendered to her request.

At the fortress, a small room was prepared for the two of you as you waited for the doctor’s arrival.

The tension between you hung heavy in the air, unspoken words filling the silence as the night stretched on.

"Are you certain you are unharmed?" It was the third time she had posed that question. Mel ceased her restless pacing before you, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression stern and authoritative. "Do not lie to me."

"I am fine. I managed to move away in time." Yet, despite your words, your hand remained pressed against the crack in your armor, staunching the wound to prevent further bleeding. "The furniture endured greater damage than I did."

"Your officer mentioned it wasn’t a surprise. You were aware of the attack." It was not the first time she broached this subject.

"We had suspicions, yes. The mistake was mine—I underestimated them." A sharp pain coursed through your ribs, momentarily robbing you of breath. "I did not imagine they would be bold enough to assault the palace."

"I would call it reckless. They will be apprehended before dawn." Mel’s voice carried an edge, an uncharacteristic sharpness coloring her tone. She was correct, but her rising agitation risked drawing unnecessary attention from the servants in the adjacent room. Their murmurs were already audible, weaving conjectures about your relationship with the empress.

"Mel." Her name escaped your lips in a quiet whisper, heavy with weariness and pain. It was the only way to get her attention. "Come here, please."

You extended your hand, urging her closer. She took it, her grasp firm, intense, and unyielding—holding onto you as though your life depended on it, as though you were slipping away.

Gently, you guided her to sit beside you, and at last, she fell silent.

"Everything is under control," you assured her, though her grip on your hand remained unrelenting. "The attack failed. No one was harmed."

"You were!" she countered, her voice breaking. "They hurted you. They could have..." Her words faltered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I thought—"

You longed to embrace her, to pull her into your arms and quiet her fears. Every fiber of your battered body ached with the desire to hold her, to protect her from the terror she had endured. But the blood soaking through your side held you back. You could not bear the thought of staining her with your pain, of making her carry the burden of your failure.

Instead, you leaned forward carefully, wincing at the effort, and placed a brief, gentle kiss on her lips.

"I am here," you murmured. The words seemed to reach her at last. Her tension melted away, and for the first time that night, her expression softened into peace and relief.

But as you pulled back, her eyes opened, and they immediately found yours. Her gaze was unwavering, filled with regret, resolve, and something more profound.

"I want you to dance with me," she said, her voice steady, though her vulnerability was evident. "As you told me about this morning, as we discussed."

"No, Mel. It is unnecessary." You attempted to pull away, but the movement ignited another sharp pang in your side, leaving you paralyzed for a moment. You closed your eyes tightly, swallowing back a groan. "I am content. I am happy. You need not do anything." The words emerged faintly, but they carried a profound truth. You required nothing more. Mel was enough—her presence in the quiet of night, her strength at dawn. She brought you solace.

"I want this, Y/N," she insisted, her voice deep with conviction. "I want you to be more than mine in the shadows. I want us to be more than a secret concealed within the palace."

Her words struck you like a blow, and your body recoiled instinctively. You shifted back, ignoring the agony of the movement.

"This has been a difficult night. Emotions are heightened, and everyone is on edge. Let us simply..." You paused, gasping as the air seemed to abandon your lungs, another wave of pain overtaking you. "Let us wait for the night to pass. Decisions of this magnitude shouldn't be made now."

"Where is that cursed doctor?" Mel exclaimed, springing to her feet and marching toward the door in frustration. Finding no one approaching, her distress grew palpable.

Her gaze returned to you, fierce and resolute.

"I made my decision months ago. Tonight has only served to reaffirm how much—" Her words were abruptly cut off by the arrival of the doctor. You saw the unspoken curse she suppressed before she turned to explain the situation to him.

You didn't need to say anything; the doctor’s sharp eyes quickly assessed the severity of your injury and began the necessary treatment. As a precaution, he requested that the empress leave the room—whether out of suspicion or to spare her from witnessing the extent of the injury, you could not discern.

Reluctantly, Mel complied.

You did not see her for the rest of the night.

After a few stitches, sutures, and painkillers, you managed to rest.

The exact moment of sleep eluded your memory; you only recalled the adrenaline coursing through your veins eventually subsiding, leaving exhaustion to claim you. When you next opened your eyes, the imposing walls of Medarda Palace surrounded you. The room wasn’t your own—it could not have been repaired so quickly—but it exuded a familiar sense of hospitality.

Curious, you attempted to rise and observe your surroundings, only to be forced back onto the bed by a sharp pang of pain.

"Damnation!" The anger escaped your lips, followed by a stubborn resolve that helped you sit upright. Once seated, you noticed a small figure at a distance.

"Oh!" The young servant exclaimed as your eyes met his. Then, without another word, he bolted from the room.

Now alone, you began inspecting the chamber. Massive paintings adorned the towering walls, while a large window bathed the space in light. Tables and shelves filled the corners, crowded with letters and books.

The realization struck harder than the bruises marking your body: you were in Mel’s room. And now, every servant in the palace knew it. Soon, the entire nation would know you shared a bed with the empress.

Desperate and somewhat disoriented, you leaped from the bed with a strength fueled by fear. You had to leave, had to avoid the inevitable fallout—but you weren’t fast enough.

You hadn’t even made it halfway to the door when it abruptly swung open, revealing the empress herself.

"Empress Medarda." You straightened your posture, lifting your chin as you greeted her with composure. The cost of the movement was paid immediately: something along your side tore.

"Your stitches have broken." Her voice was cold, though her eyes revealed an tremor of concern. She turned to the guard at the door. "Call the physician."

Without hesitation, her orders were followed, leaving you alone with her once more.

"The suspects did not resist long." She began, her tone formal and composed as she approached you. "Within hours of interrogation, your officers extracted the names and locations of the Red Stain. The leaders have been arrested, and the minor members exiled. The nation is already aware: Noxus does not tolerate terrorism."

A warmth, unpleasant and oppressive, spread through your chest, forcing you to lean back as the empress advanced. By the time she had finished her update, you were seated on the edge of the bed, once again drained.

"I can relocate in a few days. It is the most prudent course of action, considering I could be a target again." Your tone carried the weight of both a general and her lover. Neither role could bear the thought of Mel being endangered because of you.

"The palace is the safest place in the nation. I have ensured that after tonight." Her firm voice left no room for argument.

You should have obeyed your empress. You should have accepted her proposal. You wanted to. A year had passed since you met, and your relationship had deepened, growing strong enough to withstand the wind of rumors. No Noxian tongue could poison what you shared.

Yet, yesterday had proven otherwise. The bomb planted in your quarters was the ultimate symbol of your deepest fear.

The nation hated you. At least a part of it—the faction still devoted to Ambessa. To them, you were an enemy, a traitor, a stranger. In their eyes, you would always remain a winged threat, a rat with feathers, not a citizen. Not a military leader. Not a worthy companion for the empress.

If your role as general was enough to provoke a violent movement like the Red Stain—if your work alone could motivate an attack on the heart of the capital—what could the exposure of your union with Mel incite?

What would their next move be? An uprising? Civil war? The assassination of the empress?

Each possibility that filled your mind was worse than the last, every thought flooding your chest with despair and dread.

"If this commitment frightens you—" Mel’s words cracked like a whip, cutting through the whirlwind of your thoughts. Her tone was careful, serene, yet the meaning sent a violent shudder through your body.

"What?" you interrupted, clearly confused and in pain. "How could you—What are you—" Your lips pressed into a tight line as you struggled to find the right words. "If a commitment to you frightened me, I would never have knocked on your door in the first place." Your voice was aggressive, laden with emotion despite your efforts to remain composed.

How could she even think such a thing?

"Then what is stopping you?" Her question was dry and precise, as if you were engaged in some impersonal debate.

For some reason, that made you snap.

"Because they hate everything I represent, Medarda!" Your body trembled with the force of your shout. "Forgiveness, mercy, new beginnings. To them, I am an invader, an unwelcome stranger to this nation."

Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks. Blood seeped through the bandages on your chest. Pain poured through your words, spilling from your lips with unbearable weight.

"If you cannot understand why this shakes me, then think like a politician. They will hate me—and they will hate you."

Your gaze fell as Mel moved; you lacked the strength to face her eyes.

"Your renewed nation will be lost because of our alliance. I cannot... I cannot allow that to happen."

Tears blurred your vision for what felt like an eternity. Drowning in pain, time seemed to freeze as anguish filled your chest and exhaustion took control of your body. You were exposed: your wounds lay open, as did your heart. The empress could do whatever she wanted with that — you had no strength left. All you could do was cry silently, blind to your surroundings.

Amidst a sea of salty tears, however, a dark figure came into view. In front of you, Mel’s face appeared; her scent quickly filled your lungs, and a wave of calmness helped you catch your breath again. Gently, her hands cradled your face, guiding it and patiently waiting until you met her gaze once more.

"I can’t either, Y/N." Her words warmed your face like a soft sigh. "And I won’t let this happen. But I want... I want..." In her brief hesitation, you noticed tears streaming down her face too. "I want you by my side. Not just at night, not as a secret. I want you as part of me, as part of my Empire." Her touch on your face grew slightly firmer, more vulnerable and uncertain. What left her lips was not an order but a plea: "Be my spouse."

Your wings immediately fluttered in response: they tried to take flight, a clear revelation of your first instinct. Yes, yes, yes! you wanted to shout. You wanted to hold Mel, wrap her in your arms, and take her to the skies. You wanted to dance with her, to celebrate your union — you wanted to be hers.

But fear still caused a tremor in your voice.

"I don’t want you to get hurt because of me."

"Hiding you from everyone is my greatest suffering, Y/N." Her reply made your eyes widen. "I’m done with these games; I need you out of these webs of interests and lies, I—"

"Yes." Your voice, finally firm, cut through her passionate speech. As much as you wanted to hear more, as much as you wanted to know, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. "Yes, yes! I will dance with you."

A laugh, carrying equal parts relief and joy, echoed through the empress’s chamber. She laughed with vulnerability, like when you spoke late at night, when your wild tales stole smiles from her until the first rays of sunlight appeared. But this time, her laughter resounded, powerful, meant to be heard by everyone.

Now, you no longer had to hide.

#mel medarda #mel medarda x you #mel medarda x reader #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane request #winged reader

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