#also if you recognise the armour i put blue n yellow in.. first of all hiiiii

[wobubling]

A bunch of tiny pokespe doodles

[cl-01-kestis]

My Little Rebel - Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Female Rebel!Reader | Part 11

Summary: You dig deep into your mind and search for answers about your past as a Jedi, unlocking memories you never thought you’d have.

Warnings: this is a filler chapter

“You’re gonna need all the energy you can get, I’ll see you in the morning” Cere hugged you like a mother as she wished you farewell for the night, squeezing you tighter than usual and making you feel safe as you pulled away and smiled.

“Night, Cere” You nodded, earning the ghost of a smile from the woman who turned around and walked away without another word. You closed your door quickly, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the door as darkness flooded your room, only light pooling in vaguely in the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor.

You opened your eyes, realising now just how exhausted you were. You weren’t sleeping as much as you used to, so of course you’d be tired. In fact, tired was a pure understatement. You practically dropped down almost unconscious on your bed as you got down the small set of stairs that connected the two platforms of your room.

The covers felt warm as you wrapped yourself in them, you turned to the large circular window that revealed all the stars and planets the Mantis was passing by. You sat cross legged on your bed as your eyes gleamed up at the pitch black surrounding you, feeling as though you could fall asleep right there and then but something was keeping you awake.

The faint sound of humming could be heard next to you, a mechanic buzz.

Your tired gaze shifted from space to your lightsaber which was placed next to you on your bed, it flowed a faint purple and only then did you realise the force wanted to show you something. Yawning, you picked up the lightsaber and held it in your lap, closing your eyes and memorising your meditation routine due to how religiously you had been doing it since you arrived on the Mantis.

It took a while for you to get that connection with the force, the saber was glowing but it was almost as if it was denying your presence. Still, you kept your calm and didn’t get angry, you knew better than to get angry over such a small thing.

You inhaled deeply, the air filling your chest till it couldn’t anymore which was followed by a slow and outdrawn exhale. The force finally let you slip inside and brought you into the same familiar white space that you appeared in the first time you meditated.

Multiple orbs of purple hue floated in the air, surrounding you and all waiting for you to pick one. You took your time in deciding which one to go for, instead of silence there was now many different voices calling out to you from each orb. You recognised Shaak’s, there was also Wolffe and the Wolfpack, but another voice caught your attention over the others. One you didn’t recognise but were sure you had heard it from somewhere.

It was a young boy, you were guessing at about 11 or 12 years old, his voice was squeaky and he sounded nervous as he called out your name. The voice was coming from one of the orbs furthest away, highlighting itself to you because of its brighter colour and bigger shape.

Curious, you creeped through the other orbs, careful not to touch any as you walked past and eventually stood in front of the bright glowing purple hue. The voice got louder, sounding as though the boy was now yelling out to you as you slipped your hand into the hue, everything immediately going white and the only thing present was the boy’s fading voice.

Your sight returned shortly after, followed by your hearing and then the sensation in your body. You breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling tense at the way it felt to flash back into memories you had forgotten all about. This whole experience was way out of your imagination, you couldn’t make this stuff up even if you tried.

You opened your eyes and found yourself standing in the middle of a cantina hall full of clone troopers, including your own Wolfpack. In your hands you held a tray, you didn’t even know how it got there, but you acted along and looked around for some kind of answer, wanting to know why the force wanted to show you this.

“Padawan, you seem lost?” You jumped slightly and turned around, only to look up and crane your neck at an almost 90 degree angle when a large Lasat male approached you with a kind yet firm face.

“Master Tapal,” You greeted, surprised you even knew his name considering you didn’t recognise who he was, maybe you had more memories you were supposed to cover before this one.

“I-I was just trying to find a seat, it’s pretty busy today” You said whilst looking around, your voice much more squeaky and anxious. Master Tapal let out a brief, short lived chuckle, staring down at you with a smile before looking around and trying to find somewhere to sit.

“I’m sure there’s a seat somewhere, come with me Padawan” He instructed, his massive body turning around to walk in the opposite direction where the booths were located. Reluctantly, you followed him whilst keeping a firm grip on your tray, shy around the clones you passed and trying your best to smile as they greeted you.

You were starting to remember more in your conscious state, getting used to being back in your smaller body and adjusting to the fact you had no control over what you done and said. This was a memory after all, everything you were seeing had already happened, you had no control over it.

“Ah, see! Over there by the corner” Jaro stopped and pointed his long arm over to the corner of the cantina, you almost crashed into him at his sudden abruptness but stayed quiet and looked over to where his finger was directed.

In the distance, inside a booth sat a young boy.

You clutched your tray just a little tighter when you studied him, noticing his fiery red hair and hauntingly familiar face. Next to him was a clone troop, white and yellow armour followed by helmets on the tables so the soldiers could eat their food. Your heart slammed violently in your chest and you felt like you were going to throw up.

“Over there, I’m sure my Padawan won’t mind some company, especially from someone who’s his senior” Tapal nudged you with an amused expression on his face. You gulped down the lump in your throat and nodded, looking back up to the large man and smiling.

“How old is he?” You asked curiously, looking back down to the booth and seeing the boy laugh, you weren’t sure why but it seemed the clones were sharing funny stories and jokes.

“11, 3 years younger than you” He answered with a kind tone, obviously not bothered at the fact you were curious. Nodding your head, you thanked Tapal and bid him farewell before making a hesitant approach to the booth full of clones and the one Padawan boy.

“Um, e-excuse me, can I join you?” You asked with a stutter followed by a blush. The nearest clone to you smiled and chuckled to himself softly, shuffling over and patting the spot next to him at the booth which made your heart feel a little easier.

“Of course! Get yourself comfy kid, you’re just in time for the 13th Batallions stories!” The clone nudged you after you sat next to him and let out a giggle, grabbing your cutlery from your tray and tucking into your food.

A lot of chatter and chuckles were exchanged across the tables, including your own. You shared stories of your own and talked about the adventures you went on with Shaak Ti, the clones were in awe of how brave you were considering your age, but nothing caught your attention more than the small, younger Padawan sitting across from you. He was quiet, letting out the occasional chuckle and waving off whoever asked if he was alright. You stared at the boy in curiosity, quickly looking away if he ever looked over and caught your gaze. He looked familiar.

“I’m (Y/N)” You said, your voice barely audible over the clones laughter. Your eyes connecting to the boys light blue ones and made him smile slightly, he was awkward about his approach though.

“I-I’m Cal, Cal Kestis” He stuttered shyly, reaching his arm across the table and shaking your hand in a soft, delicate grip. Your smile widened and you shook his hand in return, careful not to scare him and watching how hard you shook it until the two of you let go and looked to the clones.

“Are they always this loud?” You asked with a giggle, making the small Padawan in front of you roll his eyes and nod his head, as if he’d been asked the question a million times.

“You wouldn’t believe” Cal laughed, exchanging another glance from you which seemed to bring a blush to his freckled face.

“So what Jedi do you want to be when you grow up?” You asked curiously, turning your attention back to Cal who coughed lightly on his drink when he realised you were speaking to him once again. Gaining his composure, the red haired boy set down his cup back on his empty tray and let out a sigh.

“I like the idea of becoming a Jedi Master or Knight, like Obi-Wan Kenobi” Cal answered with a breezy tone, shrugging his shoulders and scratching his neck before clearing his throat.

“What about you?” Cal looked at you curiously, tilting his head to the side and waiting for your answer as you finished off the last of your meal.

“A Jedi Shadow, Master Shaak tells me I’m fit to be one and I’ve always looked up to the shadows within the temple, their jobs are to destroy the Sith and traces of them within the order” You seemed to boast about what you wanted to be, but to put it bluntly it was a dangerous job. To destroy the Sith and all thats to do with them seems a pretty hefty job, but your determination said otherwise.

“That’s cool” Cal’s eyes gleamed as he looked up at you, as if you were already made a role model just by the statement you just made. You smiled at his amazement and nodded your head, a blush spreading on your face.

“It’s... nothing really, I’ve got 10 more years till I’m at the stage of deciding my future as a Jedi,” You sighed, looking out to the cantina and spotting your Master speaking with Wolffe, their eyes directing over to you. This could only mean another mission had come up.

“Enjoy your training whilst you can, Cal, with skills like ours you’ll be able to conquer anything and stand up against everything,” You picked up your tray, standing up from your seat and bidding the clones a loud and humorous farewell.

“May the force be with you, Cal Kestis” You vowed your head, earning one from Cal who looked disappointed that you were leaving so soon.

“You too” He responded, watching you walk away and up to your master who reached an arm around your shoulders, guiding you away and out of the mess hall whilst Wolffe took your tray and took care of it. Cal didn’t take his eyes off you until you were fully out of sight and out of the Mess hall, feeling a strange ache in his heart before hearing the clones tease him about the way he was acting towards you.

The 11 year old huffed silently, turning around and crossing his arms over his chest and shutting off from the conversations surrounding him.

-

With a violent jolt, you woke up. Panting, sweating and catching your breath like you had just been underwater for minutes. Your body was covered in wet, fresh sweat and you felt your heart slamming harshly against your rib cage. Tears filled your eyes and you felt as though you were suffocating, trying to stop your crying as you shifted in your bed and let your legs dangle off the edge.

You hid your face in your hands, your body trembling aggressively as a cold sweat slowly lurked around you. You felt as though you were going to be sick, your stomach churned with the dinner Greez had made you early on and there was a sensation of impending doom that was heading straight your way.

Acting quick, you got up from your bed and ran up the small set of stairs in your room. You didn’t care what time it was, you had to get to the bathroom. Stumbling out of your room, you dashed for the bathroom beside you and fell to the floor when you reached the toilet. Your body was in a whole mix of sensations, from freezing cold, to boiling hot, to completely in between, you were all over the place.

You kicked the door shut behind you, not wanting to wake anyone up with the commotion as you coughed up your guts and tried not to choke. It was a few minutes until you stopped vomiting and only then did you manage to collect yourself and gather all your thoughts. You flushed the toilet before collapsing on your backside, leaning against the wall beside the toilet and grabbing some tissue and wiping your mouth, spitting out the remains of the horrid sick that remained in your mouth. You closed your eyes, checking that you weren’t going to be sick again before leaning back and letting out an exhausted sigh.

You let the images of the memory flash in your mind, your pulse was beating as fast as it possibly could at the shock you were in. You couldn’t believe it, you wanted to refuse to believe it, but these were your past memories. The memories you had before Shaak wiped your brain and you started from scratch.

Still in a state of shock, you carefully wobbled to your feet and opened the door, staggering back through to your bedroom and closing the door behind you. You didn’t bother walking down the set of stairs leading to your bed, instead you sat down on the floor and held your head in your hands. Your mind was a commotion, swirling with so many thoughts and opinions about the memory you just saw. Tears fell down your face and landed on the ground, followed by a swarm of stiffled sobs and sniffs.

Your body was shaking, at this point you felt like it was shutting down due to how much emotional torment you’d already gone through. First, you’re a Jedi, and now, you knew Cal before... before you ‘met’ Cal? Nothing made sense anymore.

You wanted to talk to him about it, at least say something even if he said nothing in reply, you just needed closure with this. The love of your life was once a Jedi Padawan along side you, you knew him long before he was an Inquisitor and he was even considered a friend.

Why did Shaak wipe your memory? How could she? Your mind held so many secrets that even you had to discover. If you still had the same memory you had as a Padawan, you’d be in a very different place. Cal would most likely be your enemy, he would most likely try and kill you and there would be a war between the both of you. You wish Shaak was still alive so you could ask her why she done what she did. You doubt any other Master wiped their Padawans memory after escaping the purge.

Coming back to reality, you rubbed your eyes and realised the ship had gone into hyperspace due to the stripes of blue and white outside of your large oval window. You stood up clumsily, walking through a light head and managing to get to your bed without collapsing. You needed sleep, you’d seen enough for the night and all you wanted to do now was to rest, only then would you be able to get a break from all the thoughts in your head. Only then would you find a bit of sanity.

[generallynerdy]

Our Little Secret Part 13 (Merlin & Child!Reader, Mordred X Reader)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12

Summary: Mordred is dying. Unfortunately, the only person with the potential to save him is the one who hates him most; Merlin.

Key: (Y/N) - your name

Warnings: violence, death, injuries, blood, angst, totally unnecessary depressing shit, on that note there’s probably cursing

Word Count: 2,479

Note: owo angst also CLIFFHANGERS YEET (one more part + an epilogue if someone guesses the amount of title drops in this series (please guess right it’s a fluffy one i swear))

(Y/N) had heard the shink of the axe against his skin and turned, killing the Saxon with a stab to the stomach. It was then that she saw Mordred’s bright eyes, turning back to his own rather than the green they would be under Morgana’s spell, staring up at her with a sort of deadness.

“NO!”

With swift and shaking hands, justice was dealt to the two remaining Saxons. (Y/N) kicked one against a rock, which broke his skull open. The other was knocked unconscious by the hilt of her sword, falling to the ground with a clang.

The instant they were felled, the young woman dropped to the ground beside Mordred, lifting his limp form into her arms.

Nearby, Arthur had yet to move. He had been frozen in place at the young man’s sudden charge, then even during (Y/N)’s retaliation. He took a mere few steps forward, watching the two with grief in his eyes. He looked down at his sword, almost regretting even fighting Mordred. If only he had been watching (Y/N) more carefully. If only he had taken care of her.

A stampede of footsteps began and Arthur was ready to draw his sword until four knights of Camelot rounded the corner.

“My lord--” Leon began, before he noticed the sight.

Percival exhaled sharply. “Christ...Mordred.”

They all remained at a distance, gazing helplessly at the young pair. From where they stood, Mordred looked dead as it was. However, he had yet to go completely.

“Mordred,” (Y/N) whispered, shaking him a little. When he did not respond, she lifted her head and, glancing around frantically, screamed. “MERLIN!”

It was then that the boy spluttered, choking on his own blood. “(Y/N),” he croaked.

At his voice, she snapped her face downward, a slight gasp passing by her lips. “Mordred,” she said again, cradling his head and caressing the side of his face.

She suddenly snapped into action, doing her best to rip his shattered armour off him. She almost dropped his head as she did so, her frantic hands making her entire body shake and quiver.

“MERLIN!” Again, she screamed out, her voice cracking and her throat scratched with the effort. “MERLIN!”

Mordred coughed violently. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, blood trailing down from his lip.

“Stop, don’t-- don’t be sorry. Don’t--” (Y/N) shook her head, ignoring the tears falling from her eyes.

The young woman reached around herself and grabbed the bottom of her cloak. Most knights removed it before a battle, seeing as it was a hazard, but she had tucked it into her armour instead.

It was her most precious possession: Lancelot’s cloak.

It had multiple patches and mended rips, some in places you think couldn’t possibly be damaged while in a fight or traipsing through the woods. One in particular was on the bottom right corner and the threads were beginning to pull loose. Here, (Y/N) decided to rip the edge of the cloak.

“(Y/N), no,” Mordred wheezed, grabbing her arm to stop her. “You’ll ruin it.”

She chuckled through tears. “It’s already red.” His eyes drooped slightly and she panicked. “Mordred, Modred, stay with me. Stay with me, please. MERLIN!”

“(Y/N), I l--” He started to say feebly. He rose a hand to the base of her head, blood wiping from his hands onto her neck, though she paid it no mind. “I love you.”

A wretched cry came from the girl, even though she had tried to hold it back.

All the knights heard the boy speak and could not hide their emotion. They were fond of him, after all, which made (Y/N)’s reaction all the more painful. Percival was the most obviously hurt of the group, choking back sobs. Gwaine was a close second, sniffing and wiping at his face. Elyan shook where he stood and Leon was frozen, unable to avert his gaze.

They felt like they had failed. They all felt like they failed Mordred and (Y/N).

Arthur, on the other hand, felt the worst. He struck his sword into the ground and took a cautious step forward. “(Y/N), maybe I could--”

He hadn’t made another move before the young woman’s head snapped up to look at him. Her eyes glowed an unnatural yellow and she flung out her hand threateningly.

“Don’t touch him!” She screamed, her voice distorted.

Her gaze was back on Mordred in an instant, but the knights were left silent.

“Was-- was that--?” Elyan whispered.

Arthur looked defeated, destroyed, betrayed. “Magic.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” Mordred muttered through a sob. “Why-- why would you do that? Why did you--?”

She shook her head. “I won’t let you die. I have to do something. There has to be something--”

From there, she tried every spell she knew as blood seeped from the long cut. Her spells lessened the bleeding and began to heal his skin somewhat, but it was an enormous gash and she feared it wasn’t enough. (Y/N) had almost given up when footsteps sounded and she looked up.

Before her was an old man in red robes, using a staff to walk. (Y/N) recognised him in an instant.

“Please,” she begged with a raspy voice. “You have to save him.”

He looked down at her with doubt in his bright eyes, glancing between the two of them and the other knights, who all looked appalled. The sorcerer had a sinking feeling.

“He saved me!” (Y/N) sobbed. “He broke the spell and he saved me, Merlin, please!”

Merlin inhaled deeply and, after a moment of consideration, knelt beside the two. (Y/N) almost cried more in relief, but not all was well just yet.

He took one look at Mordred’s wound and grimaced.

“What?” (Y/N) asked frantically. “What is it?”

“None of the spells I know can heal a wound like this,” he muttered.

Her face fell. “No, no, you have to do something. There has to be something you can do, anything--”

“There’s one,” Merlin interrupted, “But I need a live volunteer.”

“I’ll do it.”

She was met with instant protests from a drowsy Mordred and a firm Merlin. “No, no, no,” Mordred slurred. “Please--”

“I won’t do that,” Merlin said. “I refuse.”

“But--” (Y/N) started to protest.

A minor groan from nearby interrupted their argument. Both Merlin and (Y/N) followed the source of it to the Saxon the latter had felled with the hilt of her sword.

Merlin looked back at her with a nod. “That’ll do.”

Within a moment, the Saxon was laid beside Mordred. Both sorcerer and apprentice placed their hands on Mordred’s wound and the Saxon’s side. Merlin went to give her instructions, but paused, looking behind her and meeting Arthur’s eyes.

“This would have a better chance of working if I wasn’t disguised,” Merlin whispered.

Before (Y/N) could speak, Mordred shook his head. “Don’t-- you can’t do this for me, Merlin.”

“I said your name,” (Y/N) muttered. “They’ll be suspicious. And they-- they know I can do magic. They’ll want to know who taught me. They’ll put two and two together.”

Merlin sighed and, taking out a small blue vial, nodded at her before glancing at Arthur. “Here goes nothing.”

He chugged it all in one go. Within minutes, he was the younger, good-looking version of himself. The knights whispered among themselves and one tried to get Arthur’s attention, but it could not be drawn from the sorcerer. If his face showed hurt at (Y/N)’s reveal, this one was devastated.

Merlin instructed (Y/N) to repeat after him and the area was bathed in light when they began to chant. The Saxon cried out in pain, but was drowned out by a distinctly magical ringing filling the air.

When the deed was done, the light died out and the Saxon was left limp on the ground. Mordred was passed out and (Y/N)’s heart sank at the sight.

“He’ll wake in a few hours,” Merlin reassured her.

She flung herself at him, wrapping him in a hug and sniffing into his shoulder. “Thank you. I-- about before--”

“Water under the bridge. We’ll talk about it later,” he whispered, hugging her tightly. When he let go, he looked toward Mordred. “We should get him to Gaius, just to be safe.”

(Y/N) nodded and they situated themselves, ready to attempt to pick him up. Between the two of them, the young woman was stronger than her companion, at least physically. They feared they couldn’t lift Mordred safely and comfortably. However, they didn’t have to fret for very long.

There were gentle thuds against the mud of Camlann and (Y/N) almost leapt to her feet, ready to fight off Saxons. Instead, Leon, with his red eyes and cheeks, knelt on the ground beside them.

No words were spoken at first, but he nodded at (Y/N), who looked upon him with such respect and relief that she looked like a child again.

The knight lifted Mordred from the ground. “Lead the way,” he said.

(Y/N) went to leave, but turned back to Merlin. She glanced between him and the other knights, not to mention Arthur, though she did not meet their gazes fully.

“I’ll be fine,” Merlin said, reading her mind.

For the first time in a long time, (Y/N) gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand hopefully. Then, she left with Leon and Mordred, leaving Merlin to finally share their little secret.

Arthur cleared his throat and turned to the three knights left behind. “Morgana must be found. I need you to--”

“Morgana’s dead,” Merlin said loudly. He was met with a doubtful look from Arthur and pointed down a path. “Down that way. I killed her myself. You can check, if you want.”

Arthur nodded to the three, two of whom left. Percival and Elyan dutifully took to the task, not able to look at Merlin as they passed. Gwaine was left staring at Merlin, which made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell if he was in awe or anger. Either way, he decided that he didn’t like it.

“Gwaine,” Arthur said firmly. The knight snapped out of his trance and frowned. “Go,” the king muttered.

With one last mournful glance, Gwaine followed Percival and Elyan.

Thus, the king and the servant were left alone.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur could not bear to hear it. He turned away and followed after the others. For all that had happened that day, he could not bear to look at Merlin, his friend and servant.

The second his back was turned, Merlin grieved.

Back at camp, (Y/N) strode ahead of Leon and Mordred to get to Gaius. She wasn’t that far ahead, as she still wanted to keep an eye on them, but she was at least a yard in front of the two.

The young woman was terrified of conversation with Leon. He would no doubt question her about her magic and that was something she wasn’t ready to talk about, not without Merlin there to help her.

Inside the medic’s tent, (Y/N) found Gaius running around, frantically doing all he could for wounded soldiers.

“Gaius!” She called, getting his attention.

He turned and heaved a sigh of relief. She rushed into his arms and was embraced in a tight hug, which occurred just as Leon entered with Mordred. The old man pet her hair and whispered words of gratefulness at her sudden appearance.

“I thought you’d died,” he sighed as he pulled back, holding her head in his hands.

She shook her head, a small smile painting her face. “No, I’m okay.” She glanced toward Leon, who was putting Mordred on an empty cot.

“What happened?” Gaius asked. “Is he--?”

“He’s alright. He broke free of the spell and saved me,” (Y/N) said softly. “Merlin and I were able to heal him, but…”

He nodded instantly. “Better check just to be sure.” He then noticed Leon’s glances in their direction. “You-- you healed him, you said?”

“They know, Gaius,” she whispered. “About Merlin and I. They’ll probably hate me now.”

“I see,” he muttered before patting her cheek fondly. “You’ll be fine, both of you, no matter what happens. I’ll go check on Mordred, you get some rest.”

(Y/N) nodded absentmindedly as he left, though she had no intention of following his orders. She was far too stressed to do as he asked. She didn’t want to abandon Merlin, either, should the others want him to explain himself.

Just as she was considering what they would want to know, someone called her name.

“(Y/N)! Thank God!” A voice exclaimed.

Guinevere appeared, racing to the young woman’s side and pulling her into her arms. (Y/N) froze at the contact. For a second, she hugged the woman back, relief filling her heart, before she was struck with regret. Gwen did not know her secret. The (Y/N) she was hugging was not a sorceress. The (Y/N) she thought she was hugging wasn’t the real (Y/N).

“I thought we’d lost you,” Gwen sighed, taking the girl’s head in her hands, much like Gaius had. She noticed her forlorn expression and instinctively frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I--” (Y/N) put her hands on Gwen’s, which rested on her neck.

Arthur appeared at the tent entrance just prior to this very moment, having witnessed Guinevere’s affection for a mere second before he saw the doubt in (Y/N)’s eyes. He didn’t make a noise, but (Y/N) noticed he was there. She looked over to him, then back to Guinevere.

The young knight pulled Gwen’s hands from her face and bowed her head slightly. “My lady.”

Gwen was about to ask after her, but she strode toward the very entrance Arthur stood. She nodded at him, prepared to walk by him in complete silence. He was about to let her do so, but was surprised when she stopped right beside him on her way out.

“Arthur--” she began to say.

What words could she say that would fix this? Would the truth help him to understand or would it only hurt him more? Would she apologise for who she was, what she chose to do? Should she say what felt right to her or right to him? Furthermore, would either help?

Glancing out of the tent, she saw Merlin, stopped in his tracks. He watched her with curious eyes, wondering what she would do. He did not shake or nod his head, nor did he give any other hint as to what she should do. It was her decision what to say, not his. After all, it was her little secret, too.

(Y/N) swallowed, paused, and exited the tent without another word.

Merlin Tags: @pearlll09

Part 14/Finale

Masterlist

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Champion Selection

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Inspiration: Thor Ragnarok

Warnings: None.

Summary: There you stood - you, the God of Thunder, and your complicated relationship with Loki - waiting to see who would be chosen as champion. So, imagine their shock when you offer to fight.

A/n: The movie isn’t out yet but when you see an image like that, how can you possibly ignore writing for Loki?

There you stood - you, the God of Thunder, and your complicated relationship with Loki - before two brightly coloured and painted natives of this planet.

God. How had this all gone so wrong?

You and Thor were only trying to find Odin when Loki popped up, begging for help because he screwed up – again.

Then you three were pursued by an unrelenting woman called Hela who knocked you all off your course on the Bifrost and onto an unknown planet.

But, no. That’s no where your troubles ended.

The trio were very quickly captured and brought to the leader of glamourised fighting pit.

It was hard to tell if the man knew who you all were, but it seemed like that you were in for trouble regardless.

The leader of this fighting ring wore a golden robe with blue and red fabric peeking through in a few places and a blue streak down his lip and chin. He had an assistant standing behind with a golden cane with a yellow ball on top and a white tattoo on her forehead.

They were hushing an intense conversation before the assistant introduced the leader as the Grandmaster.

“I want Thor. He looks strong enough to take on the champion.” The Grandmaster chose as he leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on Thor.

Your muscles tensed when you thought of what was to come next. If these people put Thor through the arena, then you and Loki would be used as prize chips to be bought and sold to whoever had enough credits.

It was clear that your identities were known, and these people didn’t care of the consequences. It also meant that they could pit Thor against someone impossible and use it as an excuse to get rid of him and take control of Asgard.

“I want to fight in the arena.” You blurted out.

There was no way in Hel that you’d let this pass. Thor was your friend and you’d fight with him before being sidelined to watch his death.

The blue lipped leader turned his attention to you and tilted his head, intrigued with this bravery. His silence giving you invitation to give a reason.

“Think about it, if your champion can battle and defeat the Son of Odin and a Warrior of Earth, you would be the champion’s unrivalled owner in all the Nine Realms.”

Thor and Loki’s eyes grew a wide as plates in their heads and, they too, stared at you. Not with intrigue but shock.

Were you crazy?

You were all in a foreign land with people that you didn’t understand yet and who were fuelled by money. Did you know what you were getting into?

Loki looked at the man who wanted Thor to be part of his games and noticed a glimmer of consideration in his eyes.

Fear surged in his veins as he realised that the Grandmaster saw a point in your bargaining. Instead of lunging forward, like he wanted to, Loki merely laughed.

“(Y/n) doesn’t mean that.” He told them with a casual head shake.

You scoffed and hardened your gaze on the leader that you were talking to and NOT to the Trickster standing on the other side of Thor, “I do.”

“Forgive them, Grandmaster. They must have hit their head.”

Thor felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck when you whipped your head in his direction to scowl at Loki.

“I’m going hit you in a very sensitive area if you don’t shut up.” You warned and watched as green-eyed prince locked eyes with you and visibly inched back.

Thor leaned towards you and sucked in a breath, “He has a point.”

Your eyes moved from Loki’s scared green pools to Thor’s blue ones with an offended rage. “What?”

Thor’s breathing hitched when he pinned under your stare and he turned his whole argument around. “Never mind, you’re right. There’s no point. None at all.”

The Asgardian knew better than to rile you up. If he pissed you off enough and you were put on the battlefield alongside him, there was a good chance that you would make him the first priority to murder.

Letting out a heavy sigh at the brothers, you returned your attention to the Grandmaster who watched the argument take place and waited patiently for him to speak.

“I like the fire. They’ll make an excellent candidate.” The Grandmaster agreed.

Motioning to his second in command, the Grandmaster pointed to you. “Find this one suitable quarters and have them dressed appropriately. Then, send for the others to take the long-haired one.”

The shorter woman took her golden stick and walked around the table to you. She gestured towards the door and you broke from the line obediently.

Resistance was futile at this point. None of you had weapons so the battle was lost before it had begun.

The only way to fight through this was to play the game and survive until you could all make a plan to escape.

The royal duo watched wearily as you and the Grandmaster’s assistant left the room.

The moment the door had slid to a close once more and their friend was out of view, Loki turned to his brother and sighed, “Thor-“

“Yes.” Thor cut off quickly in understanding. “I know.”

No matter what difficulties Loki put him through, Thor knew that his brother’s feelings towards you were honest.

There was no denying it. Loki could lie all he wanted but Thor could see the truth.

He would try and keep you safe on the battlefield, not for Loki but in fear of what his brother could truly be without you.  

Finally dressed in the battle garments of the planet, you were escorted by three guards in red armour to a large golden-yellow hall. You saw a few people waiting at the top of some stairs and as gradually drew closer, you recognised them to be the Grandmaster, Loki and Thor – the latter of whom was also dressed for battle.

Stopping before them, you saw Thor sigh and the Grandmaster beam with pride. You knew Loki was staring but you ignored him.

“You two are going to put this planet on the map for me.” The Grandmaster nodded, pointing to you and Thor. The man in gold clapped his hands and guards came for Thor, guiding him away before they could talk.

A second person approached, you recognised him to be the Grandmaster’s second-in-command, and banged her staff on the floor twice for you leave as well.

Smirking at the Grandmaster, you nodded with compliance to which the owner of the arena returned the gesture.

You couldn’t wait to make this arena hell for him. You and Thor were difficult to beat alone and impossible to beat together. The Grandmaster had no clue what he was getting himself into and you couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

Taking a step back, you had only turned halfway before a silky voice spoke your name.

“(Y/n).” Loki took your hand instantly and tugged gently to pull you over.

You hadn’t expected him to talk after your earlier threats, clearly you were wrong.  

As his fingers stroked your skin, Loki realised how much he had missed the physical contact with you. He could also feel how rigid your muscles were just being near him. There was once a time when you turned to putty with his touch, but it had changed from the moment he attacked New York.

The spark between you both didn’t fully extinguish but it was shrouded with a heavy mist of betrayal.

Loki stood there with you, his eyes staring into yours with the desperate plea that you’d go back on the offer to compete.

“I know you’re furious with me still and you have every right to be.” He told you softly. “Just promise that you’ll be careful and come back.”

“I don’t have to promise either of those things. Least of all to you.”

Your response was quick, cold and devoid of sympathy – everything Loki feared. He lifted your hand to his chest, tightening his hold slightly to convey how worried he was.

“Please-” He whispered but you pulled out of his grip forcefully before he could utter another word and stepped away, turning your back on the prince.

Loki watched on hopelessly, mouth agape, as you descended the stairs and through a large golden door to the arena. He was so lost in thought that he had forgotten that he wasn’t the only person in the room. The Grandmaster crept over his shoulder and watched over your leave too.

“Did you feel that fire? It’s going to be quite a show.”

Loki felt his throat constrict. All his mistakes were going to cost him the life of the person he loved. The Grandmaster glanced at Loki’s expression and recognised the terror.

“Be grateful, they’ll be the death of you.” He advised optimistically and turned to you once more with a grim sigh. “Or maybe, you’ll be the death of them.”

“If something happens to them.” Loki finally said, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll destroy you. I can promise you that.”

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