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elfy-elf-imagines · 1 year ago

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Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy.

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left.

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect.

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention.

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone.

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize.

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp.

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable.

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair.

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance.

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years.

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found.

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you.

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care.

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough.

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.”

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own.

“I thought it looked nice.”

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash.

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror.

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser.

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?”

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit.

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.”

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding.

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

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sich-sehnen · 8 days ago

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Eternally Bound

Part Three

"Nix- a water spirit often depicted as a half-human, half-fish creature that lives in rivers and lakes, known for luring people into the water with their alluring appearance and enchanting songs"

Synopsis - As the days go by König watches from afar, for he does not want to scare his little treasure. But he can only go so long without basking in your presence.

Category - I've decided to label this as the majority fluff with sprinkles of smut and angst to spice it up a bit.

Warnings- Stalking (not necessarily but he watches you without you knowing), KÖNIG'S POV, this is loosely based on a 'trying to go to sleep' scenario, heavy on inner monologue, you're not awake for any of this (but don't worry nothing nefarious will happen) yearning and pining like the ancients did, König is fucking whipped already, reader has nightmare, sorry this is short.

Notes - This little one-shot is slowly becoming more of an actual fic instead (though not as long as I normally make my full-length stuff), so there will be more parts coming after this. I hope you're enjoying what I have thus far.

Wordcount- 1,257

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It had been centuries since König had the pleasure of laying his eyes on something as lovely as you.

He had spent generations wandering the depths as the world slowly forgot about him and his brethren. Fewer mortals begged him and his brothers for safe passage or a bountiful harvest, and even the prayers whispered to his sisters faded with each passing night.

And then there you were, sinking deeper into his domain until he could feel your rapidly beating heart slow.

He couldn't have that, not when the brief glimpse of your eyes had him uncontrollably reaching for you. He'd never seen anything as kind or as beautiful.

You were begging anyone who would listen to help, your prayers open for all to hear. König wouldn't doubt his brother in the clouds heard your pleas for mercy that night.

If it weren't for the reaper so close to your ear, sweet-talking your soul into his grasp, König would have dragged that ship deep into the water.

He would have ensured the men who fed such a lovely thing to a monster would suffer a cold and unforgiving death. Anyone who brings harm to something so angelic deserves wrath so powerful that not even the underworld will offer them reprieve from the consequences.

He'd hunt them down sooner or later, he just had to make sure his treasure survived their weak attempt at a sacrifice.

Has it been so long that the humans have forgotten what to offer him? A lovely creature is a welcome offering, but not her death. Certainly not by the hands of his waters.

You were cold and lifeless, your body limp in his palm as he breathed life past your blue lips. He waited, and waited, and waited.

Your heartbeat was faint, your pulse too slow for his liking. But you were alive.

All you needed was warmth.

And he gave it to you.

He brought you to his favorite temple, the very first one erected in his honor, and curled himself around you until he was sure you could maintain your own body heat.

It was selfish on his part. There were multitudes of ways he could warm you up, but he needed his arms around you. He needed you curled up against his chest, soaking up every ounce of heat he produced. He needed you to need him as much as he did you.

It was almost instant, his infatuation with you. Despite his brief time with you both unconscious and frantic with fear, he couldn't resist. How could he, when such beauty was so hard to find?

He wanted to see you comfortable, to see you sprawled across those sheets with a lazy smile on your face as he answered your every beck and call.

He wanted you to look upon him with joy, not fear. But that kind of thing took time and patience, two things König had infinite amounts of. So he watched you from afar, keeping you trapped in a gilded cage while he attended to your every need.

He kept himself hidden, too worried to ruin his little progress with your solace. König could tell you were anxious to leave, your guarded gaze never strayed too far from the pool he once emerged from.

You were wound tight, flinching at every sound that echoed throughout the room.

The intense, desperate need for your attention on him was so debilitating, yet he couldn't bring himself to frighten you again. Your terror was a putrid smell to him, the pugnant aroma forcing itself into his nose until he nearly choked with it.

The only respite from the yearning is at night after you whisper to the moon and succumb to dreams and fantasy. Only then does he allow himself a closer look at you. Only then does he allow only the softest touch, his fingers grazing your skin so lightly you don't even stir.

He stays by your side as the stars twinkle in the sky, refilling your water, refreshing your food, and relishing in your closeness.

König ached for your eyes on him. He yearned for the hues of color to be turned on him, to pin him with your raw emotions as he took away all your pain.

He's never felt this way before.

König had watched his brothers and sisters fall for mortals for millennia, and he'd seen the sorrow and despair that came afterward. Only once or twice had that story ended happily, and after having given up on the idea of love König finds it hard to see the story with his treasure ending in anything but tragedy.

Yet when you lay there, bathing in the moonlight as if you were made for him, he couldn't see anything other than a future with you. Couldn't think of a world where you weren't with him, lounging in a paradise he made for you as all your worries melted away.

König sits at the edge of your bed, the thick comforter lying at the foot. He beamed at the sight of you in the clothes he offered, the elegant fabric splayed all across your body.

Absentmindedly, König brushed his fingertips down your arm as if he were trying to make up for every second he couldn't touch you. You sleepily groan, your nose scrunching and your brows drawing in tight.

König panics, his hands immediately off of you and ready to book it the first glimpse of your eyes opening.

He'd been caught.

You'd see him, and you'd scream, and then he'd have ruined it all.

But you simply curl in on yourself, your lip quivering, and a pathetic whimper escaping your tightened mouth.

Your hands grip the soft sheets between your fingers, knuckles turning white with the force. You were still asleep, a tremor rolling down your body as König's body acted on its own accord.

When he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his mouth uncontrollably spewing sweet nothings, he notices the tears.

Silvery droplets cling to your lashes, the moon light reflecting the terror within.

His heart breaks for you, but he knows what's at the root of your fear. You're all alone, stuck in a place because König is too selfish to let you go just yet.

Instead of reflecting too hard on that fact, König gently settles himself before you, careful to keep the bed dipping from waking you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into the safety of his chest while his other snaked under you to cradle your head. Immediately, you settled, and the pinch on your face softened into something serene.

König knew he was taking a risk, knew that one wrong move would wake you up, and he was done for. But you felt so good in his arms, all soft and pliable.

He had to stop himself from joyously cheering out in glee the moment you nuzzled deeper into his embrace.

You rubbed your nose against his bare chest while your hands, once curled between the two of you, now wound themselves around him. You squeezed, seeking solace in the unknown comfort that chased your fear away.

It was dangerous to stay this close. To keep you glued to him and pretend as if you weren't trapped here with him, mourning your life because he refused to let you go.

König carded his fingers through your hair, humming in delight at the content sigh that escaped you.

"You are going to be the death of me, Nix."

A/N- I am so sorry for the late update, all my free time had been taken up by an AMAZING fic. Literally for the past few days it's been READ, READ, READ! But anywho, thank you all for the likes and reblogs it means the world to me!!! <33333

For anyone interested and because I can't leave a fic this good go unrecommended, here is the link to the thing that's been taking up every ounce of thought. For The Record (John Price/Reader)

#konig x reader #konig x you #könig call of duty #könig cod #eternally bound #part three #call of duty #octo!könig #deity!könig

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dovesdreaming · 5 months ago

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Lights across the water

Summary: After noticing a flashing light from the isle of the lost you reply by flashing your own light, this turns into a daily routine for years until you come face to face with the culprit behind the light. Imagination needed for the barrier around auradon

Request

Masterlist

For as long as you could remember, there was a light that flashed across the water from the Isle of the Lost. It was nothing more than a faint glimmer in the distance, barely visible through the swirling mists that separated Auradon from the Isle, but you always noticed it. You were the child of Peter Pan, forever longing for adventure, for the wild winds and seas your father had once soared across. But instead, you were stuck in Auradon, where everything was perfect, too perfect. Life in Auradon had grown boring, a gilded cage with no escape. But that light? That little flicker that sparked across the water? It felt like freedom. At first, it was nothing, just a curiosity, a coincidence, you thought. You’d sit on the docks late at night, staring out at the Isle, and then you’d see it. One single flash of light. So, you’d flash back with a small mirror you’d kept in your pocket. Flash once, and wait. A response. You smiled to yourself, thinking it was just a trick of the eyes or maybe some kid on the Isle playing around. But then it happened again. And again. Night after night, week after week. You began to look forward to it, eagerly rushing down to the docks, waiting for that glimmer of light from across the sea. It became a secret game between you and someone you didn’t know.

Years passed like this, the mysterious light becoming your constant companion. You didn’t know who it was or why they were signaling you, but you felt connected to them in a way you couldn’t explain. And you wondered, as time went on, if they felt the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry Hook leaned against the jagged rocks on the Isle, his sharp blue eyes scanning the horizon toward Auradon. He flicked his light back and forth, watching as the familiar response blinked in return. His lips curled into a smirk. He didn’t know who was on the other side, but for years, the little flashes of light had become his nightly ritual. There was something comforting about it, knowing someone on the other side of the barrier was reaching out to him. Someone from Auradon, the place he loathed. If only they knew it was him, the infamous Harry Hook, the son of Captain Hook, villain of villains. Would they still flash their light? No, he thought. They’d probably hate him like everyone else from Auradon. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from flashing the light back. He couldn’t explain why it mattered so much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the night of the Auradon Royal Ball when you finally saw him. You weren’t supposed to be out on the docks tonight, you were supposed to be mingling with princes and princesses, putting on your best behavior. But you’d grown tired of all the pomp and circumstance, needing some air, needing to feel the wind on your face. The Isle glimmered in the distance as always, but tonight it was different. There was a ship cutting through the mist, drawing closer to Auradon’s shores. Pirates. Villains. You recognized the flag, a symbol of the Isle’s most notorious crew.

Your heart pounded as the ship docked in secret. The pirates stepped off, but one caught your attention. Tall, lean, with a swagger that made him seem as if he owned the very ground he walked on. The moment his sharp eyes locked onto yours, something clicked. You knew. His hand, still holding a small, flashing lantern, dropped to his side.

The boy from the Isle. The one you’d been signaling all these years. It was him. You were frozen in place as he approached, his pirate coat billowing behind him, his hook gleaming in the moonlight. He smirked, tilting his head. “You” he said, voice low and dripping with mischief. “You’ve been flashin’ the light at me all these years, haven’t you?” You couldn’t believe it, Harry Hook. The notorious pirate you’d heard so much about from your father. Your supposed sworn enemy. He was the one you’d shared that secret connection with, all those late-night exchanges of light across the water. “I didn’t know it was you” you stammered, still in shock.

He chuckled darkly, stepping closer, his eyes scanning your face with a strange intensity. “Aye, if ye had known, would ye have stopped?” You hesitated. Would you have? The thought unsettled you. The truth was, despite everything you’d heard about the Isle, about villains like him, you had never felt more alive than during those moments of silent communication. Whoever he was, he’d become a part of your life. “No” you finally admitted, your voice barely a whisper. He seemed pleased by your answer, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Good, because neither would I”.

You felt a spark in the air between you, like the invisible connection you’d shared through the lights was manifesting in the real world. It didn’t make sense, Auradon and the Isle were supposed to be worlds apart. You were supposed to be enemies. And yet, here he was, standing in front of you, the boy who had made your heart race with every flash of light, the boy who had become your secret. But that didn’t mean you trusted him. Not yet. “Why did you do it?” you asked, your eyes narrowing slightly. “All those years… why flash back?” Harry shrugged, but there was something vulnerable in his gaze. “Maybe I liked knowin’ someone was watchin’. Maybe I liked knowin’ there was more to life than the Isle. Or maybe…” His voice dropped, turning into a teasing growl. “Maybe I just liked messin’ with ye”.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Of course. You’re impossible”. “Aye, lass, that I am” He stepped even closer, close enough for you to catch the scent of sea salt and leather. “But now, here we are. No more games, no more lights. Just you and me”. For a moment, you stood in silence, the tension thick between you. You knew who he was, Harry Hook, pirate, villain, everything you were supposed to hate. But he was also the boy you’d been talking to for years without even knowing it. The boy who had kept you company when you felt like you were trapped in Auradon’s golden cage. And now? Now you weren’t sure what to feel.

Before you could say anything else, Harry reached out, gently tilting your chin up with the curve of his hook. His eyes glimmered with mischief, but there was something softer there, too. Something real. “So” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “What happens now?”. You smiled despite yourself, feeling the thrill of adventure in your chest once again. Maybe this wasn’t how you’d imagined things turning out, but wasn’t that the point? Life was supposed to be unpredictable. Wild. Free. You leaned in just a little, meeting his gaze with a glint of challenge in your eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”. Harry’s smirk widened, and without another word, he captured your lips in a swift, daring kiss. A kiss that felt like the culmination of every flashing light, every unspoken word across the water. And in that moment, you knew.

Enemies or not, this was only the beginning.

#blog #fanfiction #fandom #x reader #x you #x y/n #disney #disney descendants x reader #disney descendants #disney channel x reader #disney x reader #descendants imagine #descendants x reader #descendants #harry hook headcanons #harry hook imagine #descendants harry hook #harry hook x reader #harry hook

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aamaranthiine · 9 months ago

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She was so tired.

Weariness deep in her bones, in her soul. The sea stone cold and bitter around her throat and wrists, gnawing at her from the inside out. It took so much of her self control not to claw at the bindings, to want to shred and tear and peel at her very flesh until she could escape the wretched material. She wanted to sleep for centuries, as much as she wanted to run as fast and as far as her legs could carry her.

All this carefully tucked behind her resigned, docile mask as she is escorted from place to place throughout the Lannister home. When would she be allowed just a moment of privacy? Somewhere quiet and dark to curl up in and welcome the nightmares that await her in sleep. They would be a comfort compared to the waking horror her life is slowly unraveling into. There is certainly one thing she and her betrothed might agree on: neither of them wanted this arrangement.

Winding halls and luxurious spaces decorated with ill begotten spoils. Thea is beckoned into the chamber where Jaime waits, as surely it was important for them to at least acquaint with one another before they got married. The impending nuptials made her stomach churn all the more with revulsion.

'The Lady Amalthea for you, Master Lannister.' Says the droning voice of her appointed escort, 'Please, do not hesitate to call if you should require anything.' The servant dismisses themselves, leaving Thea to stand idle, the eerie stillness of her posture and stare settling on Jaime.

"You're one of those Holy Knights or something, I was told." Her voice is quiet, like the sigh of a spring breeze, "How much of the world have you seen?"

Starter for @aamaranthiine from Jaime (OP verse) In response to this post (Not Accepting)

Fingers are drumming impatiently against the table as he's waiting for his betrothed. The word alone has him shaking his head. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted no wife, no children. It was why he had joined the Gods Knights all those years ago. To avoid these responsibilities. He didn't want to become the new head of house Lannister, his brother Tyrion could have all the titles for all he cared. Jaime only wanted to be knight, wanted to be as famous and skilled as Saint Garling. A decision his father had always hated and despite everything he had still found a way to get what he wanted.

His future wife wasn't one from the other houses or even a celestial dragon in the first place. No. She came from the Blues and yet she was something special. He knew his sister had already met her and knowing her she was likely already planning to get rid of her too. Just like she had done with her husband. Not that Jaime could blame her for this, he happily turned a blind eye to her doings in this regard.

As the door opens Jaime has at least the decency to stand up from his seat. Looking at her he could see that she was as happy about this arrangement as he was, meaning not at all. She was...not at all what he had expected if he was honest with himself.

#v: the lion's gilded cage #ravarui #ravarui | jaime #damn should make a ship tag for these two now..

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fyxestroll · 2 months ago

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The Unequal Marriage

pairing: sanguinius x reader (fem.)

description: marrying an angel sounded like something straight out of a fairytale but in your reality, it was exchanging one gilded cage for another.

warnings: implications/allusions to acts of self harm by reader, forced marriage (this isn't yandere), overall angst and reader not having a fun time

notes: prequel to this fic. wanted to write abt marrying sanguinius in a fluffy way but this came out instead. this fic was inspired by a painting of the same name by vasily pukire, belated sanguinala everyone!

As a child, you would find your mother staring at her window for hours, peering into the port and the seas beyond. You’ve read of her adventures, of her mapping out the ever-changing isles on this planet. She was a legend, a hero larger than life and at that time you did not understand why she ever stopped.

And maybe to comfort or encourage—you’ve long forgotten the reason, you would spend your free time reading her her discoveries and experiences. Sometimes, you'd even do reenactments and make her smile sadly.

She neither spoke nor formed a tight bond with you and even as a child you always felt like she should’ve hated you.

But she didn’t.

And you don’t know why.

And now she's gone.

And now you’re the one staring out that damned window andandandandandandand–

Inhale.

Exhale.

‘You’ve cried enough so don’t. Ground yourself.’

The dress you wear feels too tight and your head hangs heavy with the various accessories pinned on your hair. In an hour you are to be married. That was final.

You’ve cried, screamed, and begged your father to do anything but this but the old man remained steadfast in his decision. This is the best-case scenario, you know that and you, a single sacrificial lamb, traded for what the court deemed an alliance is a far better deal than war with those things.

Humans, they called themselves but you’ve seen them up close, you’ve seen their leader and you know they aren’t. Humans can’t grow as tall, can’t wear hulking masses of armor, can’t fight the way they do and they most definitely did not have wings.

On the rare occasions you’ve managed to interact with these Astartes, you’ve always found yourself unnerved. Their politeness did little to hide how unnerving their visage was like they were something else underneath their skin. That rang true, especially for their leader, the Angel.

He is the one you are to be married to. The thought fills you with dread.

Your hand brushes against the windowsill. From here you could see the ships and clamor of the people as they go about their lives. It looked like a normal day, not a princess’ wedding day.

‘Can I do this?’ You ask yourself. Can you take the hand of this Angel? Can you find it in yourself to take oaths foreign to you? Can you leave everything you know behind?

‘No, I cannot.’

And wasn’t that the truth?

Adjusting your skirts, you sit on the window sill, waiting and letting your mind wander. You could jump off now, and taste freedom briefly before escaping in death like a maiden in a fairytale.

But you don’t.

Resistance in the form of self-harm is useless with the Astartes guarding your door. They’d stop you in no time and you, yourself have grown tired of fighting. One last act of defiance would only make things worse.

Eventually, after an hour the door opens and Soledad—your maidservant, enters. She’s dressed in fine robes and accessories fit for joyous occasions such as a wedding but her eyes held no such mirth.

“It’s time.” She states like an executioner.

Wordlessly, you stand up, a heavy weight on the pit of your stomach. You feel like throwing up but you force yourself to move. Soledad makes her way to your side, standing three steps behind as she has done for years. She makes no move to adjust the bunched-up trail of your wedding dress—a final act of resistance, a show of discontent and solidarity to you. The Astartes standing guard at your door follow, flanking you on either side.

It feels like you were marching to your death and in a way it was.

The palace gardens were beautiful, as always but you could not admire the greenery with the amount of people in it.

Members of the court, military and of course the large hulking walls of armor that were the Astartes standing in rapt attention. Their intimidating helmets had been forgone, revealing surprisingly angelic—ancestors above you’re getting tired of that word, faces. At the far end, in front of an altar stood two people a woman in an unfamiliar military uniform and the Angel himself.

From your left, your father comes, takes your hand, and leads you down the aisle with a firm hold as if he feared you would run. You wished his fears could’ve come true.

“Be good.” Your father whispers before leaving you to stand in front of the Angel.

The officiant clears her throat, “We are gathered here today to witness the union between Lord Primarch Sanguinius and…” ‘So the Angel does have a name.’ “Heir apparent and Chancellor of Rights.” She turns to the crowd, “If any have reason to object speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The attendees stay silent. Good for them.

You bite the insides of your cheek, the unlikely possibility of someone objecting dying that very moment. It takes all of your willpower not to let out a cry or a scream and so you force yourself to look directly infront of your soon-to-be husband. Except, you don’t see his face let alone meet his eyes. You’d have to look up for that so you only see your reflection on the shined gold of his armor.

The sight of your face made you want to cry more.

“Bride,” the woman’s steely blue gaze bores into you, “Your vows.”

Vows? You were not made aware that marriages in the Imperium needed vows.

“I…do not have any.” Your statement sparks whispers among the crowd and for a moment you feared you’ve angered the delegation but neither the groom nor the officiant make a comment on it. The woman proceeds with the ceremony, “Then please join hands.”

Finally, you see the Angel’s face up close and like the Astartes he leads he’s beautiful, ethereal. His wavy blonde hair frames a face that was equally chiseled and soft and highlights his unnatural ruby red eyes. A circlet of gold rests on his head and as it shined in the late afternoon sun it reminded you of a halo. It made him appear all the more inhuman.

“Under the light of the Emperor of Mankind, Sanguinius, do you take her to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Your stomach sinks.

“Do you swear to accompany her, so long as you both shall live?”

Gently, he squeezes your hands and meets your gaze, “I do.” The kindness his eyes hold make you sick.

“And you,” The officiant looks to you, “do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you swear to devote yourself to him so long as you both shall live?”

“I…” The slight change in wording doesn’t escape you. If anything it only assures that your feeling of dread isn’t unreasonable. The hands holding yours are far larger and you’ve seen what they were capable of. If you tried to run it wouldn’t be a problem for him to yank you back and the kindness in his eyes gave no assurance he wouldn’t.

“I do.” You breathe out. It feels like admitting defeat.

“Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you as Husband and Wife, lawfully wedded!”

There are claps, cheers and clanks of armor but you can tell its superficial on your people’s side. The Astartes are much harder to read, their faces neutral through the whole ordeal. Sang-the Angel lets go of your hands and you turn to face the crowd as newlyweds.

The sounds of celebration becomes muffled to your ears as if someone stuffed cotton in them. A quick glance at your future husband lets you see a look catch a look of concern etched on his brows. You ignore it, putting on a smile and forcing yourself into the image of a blushing bride as a lone tear escapes your eye.

‘What now?’ You can’t help but wonder.

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k x reader #sanguinius x reader #warhammer x reader #primarch x reader #sanguinius #you guys have no idea the way i need this man #mention his name and i start weeping like a widow #i should probably update my masterlist #all my sanguinius fics are interconnected so erm #!

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