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humongouspeachinternet · 15 days ago

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Pomegranate-flavored promises

Mage!Ghost x Princess!reader

It started out small when the wars of the Northwest began. A rogue mercenary attempting to sneak into the castle, a wickedly curved knife concealed beneath his cloak. Poison in her tea, the side effects nearly killing her and putting her on bedrest for a month. One of her "subjects", after being frisked and searched for weapons upon entry, wrapping their hands tightly around her throat before her knights could get to them to rip the old man away.

Even now, sitting in front of the castle's mage, she wore the bruises of this latest attempt, deep purple blossoming around her delicate throat like a necklace of dark amethyst, as well as the pallor and paleness from her earlier bedrest. The young princess, once a lively and active royal amongst her people, looked small, frail almost in the large leather seat of the mage's workspace. She didn't miss the pity in his eyes nor in the eyes of the bodyguard assigned to her, an armored man squeezed into a tiny chair in the corner of the room to give the mage space to work on the princess.

The castle's mage was a rather large individual himself, all tense shoulders and muscle beneath the civilian clothes he wore. Seeing as he worked behind the scenes most of the time, he didn't have to don the normal armaments of a knight, a royal, or anyone else in the castle. He was free to dress as himself, even if that meant that his visage was obscured by a dark balaclava and a ghostly mask.

Did it make many uneasy? Perhaps. However, he had been in service to the crown for many years now, keeping the royals safe and alive and remaining loyal despite numerous uprisings over the years. Time and time again, Ghost had proved his fealty to his wards, and this time was no different.

Except it was.

It was her this time.

"This is far too much attention... you both should be doing much more important things than babysitting me. I really am fine." She sighs into the silence of the room, voice scratchy from both trauma and disuse as she watches Ghost cross the room towards her, a mortar dwarfed in his large hands. Her bodyguard bristles slightly as the large mage approaches, trying to play off his movement with a stretch of his arms over his head. Hazel eyes watch Ghost like a hawk, unsure as to if he could trust this man with the princess. He'd only ever heard whispers of this mysterious man and the havoc he could wreak if he truly wanted to. He was a force on and off the battlefield, but anyone could be out to get the poor princess nowadays, even a trusted friend in the castle.

Ghost brushes off her comment, coming to kneel in front of her in his chair, hardened brown eyes looking over the deep bruises that he couldn't prevent. How could he have? He was always tucked away in a separate wing of the castle, trying to keep the kingdom afloat with the wars raging outside, always watching from the shadows and stealing glances when he could. He didn't even know of the first few assassination attempts, but now that he did, he knew he couldn't just remain on the sidelines.

"Quiet down. You'll hurt yourself if you keep whining like that." He chastises lightly, his voice deep and soothing despite how he tried to sound stern. How could he with her? He'd never seen her look so... tired. Never seen her struggle for breath, never seen such deep-seated sadness in her gaze, never seen such... resignation in his princess. God, what he'd give to take all of these worries from her. Let him shoulder the burdens, he thought, dipping his fingers into the healing salve before reaching up to gently rub it into the bruises on her throat, his jaw tightening when she flinched at the sight of his hand approaching the tender area. A quiet whine escaped her before she could swallow it down as he massaged the paste into her skin, the soft noise catching the attention of the knight in the corner who moved to the edge of his seat, armor creaking and eyes narrowing with concern for the princess's safety.

Ghost's eyes flicker to the uneasy knight at the slight movement, dark eyes narrowing on him in the dim candlelight in response. That bastard. He'd let someone hurt her and now he tried to play the concerned hero? If Simon had been there, the assailant would never have gotten within two feet of the poor girl sitting upon his chair, but he'd been squirreled away.

He hadn't been there.

And now here she was: injured and in pain.

The thought brings his gaze back up to his princess, a frown tugging at his concealed features as he continued his work, the bruises slowly fading thanks to an enchantment he'd imbued the herbs with. It worked to break up the congealed blood beneath the skin and to take the pain of the marks with it, making it seem like it had never happened, but it did nothing to absolve the princess of the trauma of the event.

The old man had seemed so kind. So genuine. He'd received assistance from the charity organization she'd organized months ago, having run most of it herself before roping more royals into helping their people. War times were hard times, after all, but her subjects didn't deserve to suffer because of it. But it was when he came up to express his gratitude to her, his arms wide for what had seemed like an innocent embrace - something she allowed quite often - that he'd struck. Aged, worn hands wrapping as tightly as they could around her throat, calloused from years of working fields and tending home, fingers overlapping to stop her breathing. It took the guards a few moments to realize what was transpiring, but the man was swiftly pried from her and dragged away, kicking and screaming about how she wasn't safe from this war so long as he lived, as soon as they did. The flurry of activity that ensued around her was lost upon her as she gasped for breath. The man had been so angry, his sunny demeanor from just moments ago morphing into pure rage and bloodlust as he tried to strangle the life from her.

Ghost, focused on the task at hand, was confused as something wet began to drip down his hand, cutting streaks through the smears of herbs. Upon looking up, he'd discovered that the princess had dissolved into tears beneath his careful hand, quickly withdrawing to set down the bowl in his clean hand and wipe the tears from her face with it. He understood the faraway look in her eyes before she squeezed them shut. He'd seen it many times before, in the eyes of men scarred by battle, but it looked so utterly wrong on her.

She didn't deserve this.

"Get out." The burly man growls out to the knight in the corner, tearing his eyes away from her face to stare the man down as he hesitated to move. His job was to keep the princess safe by staying at her side for all hours... but the look in Ghost's eyes told him that he wouldn't be able to do that job much longer if he stayed in the room. Stiff with tension, the knight stands and nods, coming over to the princess to kiss the top of her head and whisper that he'd be right outside of the door if he needed her before exiting the room.

Bastard, Ghost thinks, trying to hold his tongue in front of his ward.

If only she knew what he'd seen that knight do behind her back. Secret lovers were never the most faithful within the walls of castles, but having watched the two from the shadows for so long now, he couldn't bring himself to dull the smile that the man brought to her rosy visage.

How he wished she'd look at him like that.

The slam of the heavy door made the princess flinch beneath Ghost's attentive hands as he thinks, more tears slipping down her flushed skin as the memories quickly became too much for her to handle.

"Was it me, love? Did I hurt you?" He questions gently, unsure as to what he'd actually seen for a moment. Perhaps he'd gotten distracted and pressed a little too hard on a bruise?

A quick shake of her head absolves him of the guilt that threatened to crawl up his throat, swallowing it back down with a deep inhale. Scarred fingers drifted gently over pink-splotched cheeks, wiping his other hand on his clothes to catch as many tears as he could for her, wondering how to best comfort her. His princess. His princess?

"Shhhhh, it's alright. He's gone, it's over." Tear-dampened fingers, careful to avoid her neck, moved to rest against the hair at her nape, his cloth-covered forehead coming to bump gently against her own. He'd seen his fair share of war, of death, of the in-between place. He knew it well. Why did she have to? "Deep breaths, come back to me, yeah?" Taking a deep breath of his own, he waited for her to peek her eyes open and mirror the action, helping her to work through it a few more times before she felt that she could breathe again without her world collapsing in around her.

Growing up, she'd been prone to attacks of the nerves, and, growing up right beside her as the apprentice to an abusive mage within the castle, Simon had figured out that getting her to breathe through it was an almost surefire way of calming her. If that didn't work, holding her to his chest until she could cooperate enough to breathe worked just as well. How useful to him now, locked away in the basement of the castle and far from the woman he adored.

A soft sniffle escapes her as she reaches up to rest her hands atop his, reddened eyes slowly coming up to meet his steady brown ones, tears threatening to spill once more from the amount of concern in his gaze. "I-I'm sorry..." She murmurs, embarrassed to have broken down over something so small when people were dying outside of her kingdom walls, a gentle scoff meeting her words as he shakes his head in response.

"Only you, princess, would apologize after almost dying." Ghost grunts, slowly withdrawing his forehead from hers, but keeping his hand firm on the back of her head to look her over. The bruises that marred her skin were almost completely gone by now, replaced by the sickly pale color that her skin had taken on lately. Curse that poison. If they had caught onto it sooner, maybe she'd have been feeling better by now. "I don't want to hear those words from you again, understood? You went through something traumatic and you're allowed to be upset about it. If anyone says otherwise, you come find me and the problem will be resolved within the hour, I promise."

Listening to the firm promises of her childhood friend, she nods slightly, another sniffle escaping her. "Luke said I was being dramatic... that it had only been a few seconds without air, but it felt like forever, you know?" A delicate whisper, her eyes glancing to the door behind them, knowing that Ghost would understand her position more than her sheltered lover would. A curt nod meets her words, his chest burning with the anger beginning to rise within him. What a proper prick that knight was. And he was her lover? What on earth did she see in him?

"I know. It's not a position you should have ever been put in, your highness." He pauses, hand slipping from her hair to glance at his workbench behind him. An idea had slowly begun to form, pieces falling into place as he remembered an experiment he'd been working on for the king. Eyes slowly returning to the princess, she could see a slight crinkle at the corners of them as the gears continued turning, murmuring quietly into the space between them. "And you won't ever have to worry about it again if I have anything to say about it... wait right here."

Standing from his kneeling position, he was loathe to leave her side at such a sensitive time, but if he thought that he could help keep her safe from now on, he'd do just about anything.

Now, had he tested this new experiment very thoroughly? Not quite.

Would it hurt her though? Never. If he thought it wasn't safe, he'd have ended the experiment as quickly as he started. It was a tense time for everyone and the last thing he needed was someone accusing him of trying to take out the crown.

The young woman curls up carefully in the well-loved chair as she watches Ghost make his way to his worktop in less than two long, graceful strides. It really had been too long since she'd spoken with him like this, just the two of them. Sure, he was invited to every dinner and engagement, but she never seemed to get close enough in the past couple of years to even just talk to him. With the war and the dwindling royal engagements, she hardly even saw him anymore, unaware that he'd never really left her side. He truly was like her shadow, her ghost following her around just in case. In case of what, he wasn't exactly sure, but he was there. Just never when she truly needed him it seemed.

No matter. He'd fix that, he thought, pulling out a few vials of muted colored liquids and powders. "Now I do have an important question for you, your highness..." He speaks, his voice slightly muffled by his mask as he mixes various ingredients together in a beaker, its color... interesting, to say the least. "Pomegranate- or cherry-flavored?" Stirring the beaker, he turns to her, watching with a small smile as her brows knit together in slight confusion, a small chuckle reaching her lips at the thought of him flavoring the concoction just for her.

"Such a hard decision." She rasps out softly, her voice still a bit weak from everything that had occurred, "Pomegranate is always a welcome flavor... what are you putting it in though? I'm not sure I've seen you make something like this before."

Watching him take a bottle from a drawer, the flavoring, and drip a little bit into the mixture, she tilts her head curiously, listening as he stirs it all together and brings it over to place it into her shaky hands. "It's something your father's had me working on lately. He's been worried about getting hurt on diplomatic missions to the battlefields and wanted a way to keep safe before danger reached him." Carefully, Simon places his hands over hers around the beaker, meeting her gaze once more, warm skin over cold hands. "It will tether you to me from now on. My life will be tied to yours and I'll know if something is going to happen to you before it happens."

She purses her lips for a moment, looking down to the swirling liquid in the glass before looking to his hands overlapping hers. Had she always been so pale, so thin, so small? Had all of this stress really done this to her?

"Simon... I can't do that to you. What if I get hurt and it hurts you as well?" She whispers to him, chewing on her bottom lip as she thinks, "Tying yourself to me like this... I can't ask something so large of you."

"You misunderstand, princess. I am not asking this of you. I'm begging you to allow me to do this for you." He corrects, the chill of the floor seeping into his knees as he kneels in front of her again, "Please. This is the absolute least I can do for you, and I am more than happy to give my life, my health, my everything to keep you safe. I don't claim to know exactly what will happen if, gods forbid, anything happens to you, but if it means the end of me, I'd die the happiest man, knowing that you will live on to bring such joy to your people."

The woman before him was stunned into silence, eyes wide and brimming with tears at the thought of him giving his life so freely for hers if that's what it came down to. And he'd do it with no regrets, it seemed. No hesitation was visible in the warm brown eyes boring into hers, but a gentle, begging plead to please let him do this for her. It was just about the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her... and he looked so sincere. Who was she to say no?

With shaky hands steadied by his own, she holds his gaze as she tips the glass to her lips, the scent of pomegranate filling her nose as she took a mouthful and swallowed. Carefully pulling the glass from her lips, Ghost reaches up to pull the cloth of his mask over his nose before guiding both of their hands to tilt a mouthful to his lips as well, swallowing his sip of the potion right after she did, a gentle smile upon his scarred lips all the while.

(Author's note: Hi hi!!! I hope you enjoyed this!! I'm planning on making a part two soon! :) )

#x reader #princess!reader #mage!SimonRiley #mage!Ghost #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #hurt/comfort #forbidden love

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irisfixation · 7 months ago

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knights getting mindbroken. you agree. enjoy

"She's just ahead. Let's get ready." It wasn't difficult to make it this far. The palace was left in ruins decades ago, and the few guards still under her spell were little more than shambling corpses, easily dispatched by your party. You expected a little more, to be honest: some final bastion of opulence at the place's heart, as it were. But no - here it is, the throne room of the "empress of ruins"'. Once a feared tyrant, now little more than prey to be put upon your sword. If she's anything like her guards, you doubt it'll be harder than any other job.

She doesn't look like the stories. Once, she might have been adorned in all her fineries, hair tied back and dress magnificent. Now, though, she's little more than a haggard, scrawny wretch. You can see the bags under her eyes all the way from the boss door, let alone the rags and stolen traveler's attire she's wearing. One of your party members can barely stifle a giggle.

"Hold it," another commands. "She'll see us if we draw any closer. We should prepare." A tedious task, really, given how easy the journey thus far has been. Still, you acquiesce. One hireling takes a detour in search of something that piqued her interest, another sets about marking spell-circles into the earth beneath, a third makes camp and begins preparing your rations, and so on, and so forth.

You - you scout out at the thresholds of the gate, watching the once-empress as she lays unmoving. You rehearse battle stratagems in your head, reflect on the research conducted by previous adventuring parties, the whole nine yards. "She'll get desperate when she's wounded enough-" you recall, "so conserve your strength until then". You'll cover for the rest of the party to start, and then-

Her glare snaps you back to the here and now. Oh, shit. The tip of your boot has crossed the ruined threshold; you can just make out where the microfilament runes across its border intersect with your foot. She knows you're here.

That's fine, you reassure to yourself. The rest of the party should be ready soon enough - and besides, you're the best of the bunch. You'll hold her down until then. Your armaments gleam in stark contrast to her sorry state as you step forwards.

She lurches forwards, a slow and dreary movement. Fine by you. You take your stance, and call out with sheer heroic might in your voice. "Give it up, would-be empress! Today, your feeble reign finally comes to an en-"

In a blink, she is upon you, barreling with the speed of a starving and maddened wolf. You barely have time to call to your allies and attempt to swing your sword before-

A single outstretched finger presses upon your forehead. Her hand is gnarled and dust-caked, but the point of the nail is pristine as crystal. You watch as the frantic charge of your allies slows to a crawl, then freezes entirely. Time magic? No, it's more like your mind's been trapped within a single moment - like the compressed moment of time spent trying to catch something in mid-fall, magnified hundredfold.

You recoil. And as you do, you feel something worm its way out of you, plucked from your skull. It twists and gravitates towards her, gossamer-thin filament of gold and scarlet, wrapping around her finger like a ring or snake.

The shock of the moment ceases. She's barely two feet from you, and as frail as the dust upon her kingdom - your hands clench upon cold steel, your blade moves to seek her head -

"Stop."

Your body seizes up, arms and muscles pulling to a taut rictus. You can't even bring yourself to fall over in defiance - you feel your limbs pull into the closest approximation of a bow they can manage. She looks at you with icy eyes, and you realize your comrades aren't doing anything. Are they even there? You cannot hear their breaths, cannot turn to look-

"Kneel. Goodness, you were easier than I expected."

"What in hell's name did you- take from me-"

"Your ability to disobey orders," she says, her voice low and measured. She's clearly enjoying hearing herself talk, which sickens you all the more. "The only thing keeping the 'self' from being consumed by the 'other' - your soul. Your free will. You really didn't even expect this much?" "The kingdom," you sputter, "will have your head for this-"

"Silence." Your tongue is stilled in your own mouth; your own breath feels too there, too physical upon your throat and lips, like breathing and swallowing smog.

"The -kingdom- will arrive here too late, if at all," she rebuts. "I never needed anything more than a singular doll to rewrite, after all." She lifts your head to meet her gaze; her smirk does not reach their depths. "And would you look at that - a cocky, self-assured knight, delivered right into my lap. But of course, I only let you down here in the first place because of your incompetence."

Fuck. No wonder the journey had felt so easy, that all the actual moments of drama and risk just happened to work out in your favor. Had she engineered every last one of them? Just for - what, this?

"If I was -actually- worried, I would have vanished before you even arrived here. Unlike you, I actually take my position -seriously.- Now! Beg for me, please."

"of course my goddess please i am yours i am yours forever i'll serve you to the day i die please use me however you wish" The words spill from your mouth before your conscious mind has a say in the matter. "my life is yours it always has been nothing else matters" You try and bite them back, to deny them, but they sear something into you: your mind conjures images of a parasite tunneling down through brain matter.

"Exactly. And I'll keep doing this, one pitiful would-be hero at a time."

She looks down at you again, and you witness her wreathed in a halo of eyes; each reflecting a vision of your life, your loved ones, your family, your life, your memories. A million different reflections of how they could be snuffed out if you dared disobey your new Empress - of how much you possibly have to lose, more than you could ever truly understand-

"There's nothing your little 'kingdom' can do about it. Certainly nothing you could."

She's right. Of course she is.

"Now, please go to sleep for now-"

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(the end! for now, anyhow)

#semantic cognitohazards #the 'write erohorror while high - rewrite the next night' pipeline is real

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