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jessamine-rose · 1 year

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♙ ♘ ♗ Chess Piece ♖ ♕ ♔

………..hi. I would like to present the side story to Disjecta Membra, a collection of bonus scenes + epilogue told from Pierro’s POV. Do enjoy this fic and suffer ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

A big thank you to @diodellet for her peer review, @frogchiro for her help in my Pierro characterization, and @seakicker for the fic inspiration!! I’m still questioning how I ended up writing for the Jester, and you can thank them for making it possible <3

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, coercion, blood, violence, death, psychological trauma, self-deprecation, alcohol consumption, Dottore is here, spice, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader who is a fallen goddess, pre-release Pierro

♡ 5.4k words under the cut ♡

i. pawn

The entire forest is consumed by mist.

He walks down the path, maneuvering around the haze. As the mist shifts, he rushes to an unobscured patch of grass to elude its grasp.

Another blind spot. How many more areas are free from her surveillance?

Knowing his savior, she’d detect his location once the mist touches him. Despite their heart-to-heart conversations, the fact remains that his life is in a god’s hands. It would be good to know the way around the forest without her guidance.

Remain vigilant. If he isn’t careful, he may end up like the lost animals ensnared in her hunting traps.

After a few more blind spots, he finds a familiar stone path. The area is cleared of mist to reveal weathered gravestones and deep blue flowers. He walks along the perimeter and stops in the heart of the cemetery, where a veiled figure is sweeping the fallen leaves.

He hides behind the trees.

In her human guise, the God of Mist is indistinguishable from an ordinary human. Her expression is solemn as she cleans and greets each gravestone.

“Fane.”

“Kay.”

“Algos.”

“Charis.”

And so on. Such devotion to one’s followers is unheard of; then again, the mere fact of ______’s kindness sets her apart from the gods who destroyed his nation.

Her friends and followers are fortunate to have a peaceful resting place. If only he could say the same for his own compatriots.

The statues are next. She approaches the shorter figure and plucks the dead flowers out of its cracks. Her voice takes on a lighter tone.

“Pasithea, your flowers have outnumbered mine. I can’t tell if it’s because yours are multiplying or if mine are dying out. Either way, you’re as competitive as always.”

A bitter laugh escapes her lips. She lifts her veil.

The Khaenri’ahn peers closer at her face. This is an expression which he has never seen during their meals together. The smiles directed at him are usually gentle and uplifting, never this desolate. When she greets the other statue, her smile disappears completely.

“Hello, Oizys,” she whispers. “Happy birthday.”

He tenses. Despite ______’s assurance that she holds no grudge against Khaenri’ah, her loss is strongly felt. The Child of Night’s absence looms over them in the tableware he uses, the chores assigned to him, his next destination.

She checks his grave. “Not even a blade of grass? What kind of plant will satisfy you? You’re so picky until now.”

His gaze shifts to the statue’s Claymore. The weapon is real, bearing the telltale marks of a Field Tiller’s attacks. Just how many of his people were cut down by that blade?

“The Khaenri’ahn is doing well,” his savior continues. “It won’t be long until he leaves for Miseria. I know, you’d be furious…but what do you expect me to do? How could I leave that poor thing to die?”

That poor thing.

He can’t tell if he feels more relieved or offended by that statement.

“...I’m sorry.” She disperses the mist around the statue’s eyes, meeting its discolored gaze. Her voice shakes as she looks around the cemetery. “You…all of you know that, right?”

How long has she been weighed down by grief? Is this not the same person who claimed he would one day move on from the calamity?

All of a sudden, the mist rises. The Khaenri’ahn huddles closer to the tree to avoid it. Through the haze, he watches as ______ stomps on the barren grave and bursts into tears.

“Why did you even bother to come home?!” she shouts. “To see me one last time? To put a stop to my waiting? To…to punish me with the sight of your corpse?!”

Is this what will become of him? Will his vengeance ever amount to recovery?

The statue blankly stares ahead.

Her voice breaks. “It’s not fair that—why did it have to be you? When will it be my turn?!”

Or will he, too, live the rest of his life burdened by his own survival?

The Khaenri’ahn resists the urge to leave his hiding place.

For what feels like ages, the only sounds in the cemetery are the anguished cries of his savior. Still sniffling, she calms the mist and faces the statue again.

“I…I have to leave,” she says softly. She casts a strained smile at her friend’s likeness, cheeks glistening with tears. “I’ll come back with your cake tonight, okay? See you later.”

With that, the statue’s eyes are concealed once more. She sets her broom aside, and the Khaenri’ahn leaves the cemetery.

He is able to retrace his steps without difficulty, but the lingering pain from his injuries is debilitating. Before he can enter the temple, a hoarse voice calls out to him.

“What are you doing outside?” ______ approaches him, her veil back to its usual style. Under the sheer fabric, a frown crosses her face. “I thought I told you to rest.”

Does she suspect anything?

“I needed some fresh air,” he replies, keeping his voice light.

“I see…”

The mist swirls around them. The Khaenri’ahn meets her gaze, holding his breath.

The curiosity in her gaze gives way to concern. “Let me accompany you next time. I don’t like the thought of you wandering the forest alone. What if you get hurt?”

As though she doesn’t already fret over him at the slightest lift of a finger.

He walks past her. “You need not concern yourself with that possibility.”

Spoken too early. Pain suddenly shoots up his broken ankle, causing him to stumble. He almost falls, if not for ______ catching him.

“Are you all right?!”

How humiliating.

He avoids her gaze. “Thank you. You can let go of me now.”

______ is unconvinced. She keeps a firm grip on him and examines his new scars. “Let’s go inside, dear. I’ll check your injuries.”

“If you insist,” he mutters.

…Up close, his savior’s puffy eyes and dried tears are visible under her veil.

“Where were you, anyway?” he asks.

“Oh, me?” The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I was just tending to the achlys flowers. Moving on, I’m baking a berry shortcake later. Would you like some?”

He hesitates. “That would be lovely.”

It is futile to offer comfort to someone who clearly refuses it. What could he possibly say to her as one who has just recently lost his own people?

No, that isn’t the right mindset.

If grief will not leave him, he must make it into what fuels his vengeance. Only after his weaknesses are burned away can he become strong enough to rebel against the divine.

He walks through the mist this time.

Only then will he be in a position to wipe her tears.

ii. knight

The religious art is disappointing.

Pierro studies the weathered fresco. It depicts a veiled figure hovering above a crowd of faceless followers, isolated by swirls of mist. The subject’s face is eroded beyond recognition.

She was wrong. None of her sacred depictions can compare to their model.

He touches the figure with a gloved hand. The image is divine, passive, untouchable. He doubts that the original face has the kind eyes and gentle smile from his memories.

“Sergeant Luda.”

A Fatui subordinate rushes towards him, bowing slightly. “Yes, Lord Harbinger?”

Pierro gestures to the fresco. “Extract this painting from the wall and include it in the list of artifacts to be transported to my personal estate. I expect no transit damage.”

“Noted, my lord! Do you have any other orders?”

“I have but one command. Demolish the temple before you leave.”

“Excuse me?” Luda’s tone turns doubtful. “You want us to destroy this place? All of it?”

He gives her a cold look. “Must I repeat myself?”

She bows again. “N-No! Forgive my blunder, Lord Harbinger!”

“That is all, Sergeant.”

With that, Luda quickly stands up and barks a few orders at her coworkers.

Pierro looks around the temple ruins. No mist hovers over ______’s old territory. Several Fatui subordinates are sifting through the debris for surviving artworks and relics.

Would she ever forgive him for erasing her existence from the world? Can he say the same for himself, with the knowledge that he is committing the crime against his homeland?

“My lord!” Another subordinate enters the temple and kneels before him.

“Lieutenant Daniil,” he says. “I presume that Agent Leonid has departed from the forest adjacent to Miseria.”

Daniil nods eagerly. “Correct, sir. According to my spies, Agent Leonid has made a full recovery from his injuries. He and the previous defectors have permanently settled in the city.”

About time that traitor left her company. “Punish the next traitor. The attackers need not follow them this time; just ensure that they reach the forest in a wounded state.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“That will be all.”

Pierro approaches the next set of scattered fragments. The old manuscripts have been reduced to yellow shreds. He pieces together what seems to be a quote by █████ herself.

“May you find refuge in every place where my blood has mixed with the air.”

He smiles to himself.

His savior is truly too kind for her own good. With how easy it has been to orchestrate a hostage situation, ______’s voluntary surrender is guaranteed.

He wonders if she will recognize him during their reunion—or even welcome him, given his new status as the director of the Fatui. If she doesn’t, he will still consider it a pyrrhic victory.

It is only proof that he has outgrown her mercy.

iii. bishop

Their reunion goes as planned.

It doesn’t take long for ______ to accept their new power dynamic. Prior objections aside, she quickly adjusts to her new life as the Jester’s partner. She is an elegant sight in her Snezhnayan dresses and Khaenri’ahn jewelry.

…Pierro does miss their peaceful days of home-cooked meals and friendly conversations. His darling’s fear and respect is as frustrating as it is gratifying. She isn’t afraid to challenge him with moments of petulance.

For what it is worth, she no longer addresses him as “dear” or her other patronizing pet names. At times, their double-sided arguments are quite engaging.

At any rate, his other objective has been achieved. The new resources acquired from ______’s relinquished territory serve more purposes than the Lord of the Hearth’s fire.

“Jester, I come bearing a report on our latest Archon Residue experiment.”

Pierro looks up from his signed documents. “Dottore, I expect impressive results since you took the initiative to request a meeting with me.”

The Doctor closes the door behind him, smiling. “You will be pleased to learn that we are making progress with the remains of the Goddess of Consciousness. Her powers have manifested in the test subjects, albeit their mental faculties remain incoherent.”

Pierro recalls ______’s last visit to Zapolyarny Palace. She didn’t seem to recognize the melody sung by the test subjects.

“Rectify that side effect immediately.”

“As you wish.” Dottore looks up from his research notes and glances at the empty sofa. “Is your darling currently at home?”

“Does her presence have any bearing on your report?” he asks sharply.

“No, it doesn’t. I was merely curious, given that I’ve only had the privilege of meeting her once. Oh, but I did find something very interesting in the test subject’s speech patterns.”

Pierro grips his pen. “Go on.”

“Imagine my curiosity when I noticed a recurring name,” he continues. “‘█████.’ The test subjects kept shouting that name—quite hysterically, I might add. Initially, I brushed them off as an insignificant friend of the deceased god until I made an important recollection.”

Dottore walks over to the sofa and runs his hand along the headrest.

“Do you remember our first meeting, Jester?”

“How is this relevant?” asks Pierro. “I recruited you in Sumeru and you eagerly accepted my offer. I can vividly recall your hysterical reaction to your new title.”

“No, after that. If my memory serves me correctly, you inquired about the House of Daena’s religious archives. After which I noticed a few ancient books and manuscripts amongst your luggage, most of which referenced a divine being known as █████.”

He knows.

Dottore adjusts his mask, a crimson twinkle in his eyes. “I did question your interest in that unknown god. If we can obtain the remains of the God of Mist, as we did with our current specimens and the Lord of the Hearth, I can use—”

“Dottore.”

The air grows cold. The Doctor pauses, meeting Pierro’s glare.

He puts down his pen. “You should know by now that I am not one to entertain baseless assumptions. Moreover, I must address your previous invasion of my privacy.”

“Oh?” Dottore approaches the desk, eyes wide. “I presumed that you could fill in the blanks for me, seeing how none of those ancient texts are listed in the Fatui’s libraries. Shall I ask your darling instead? I heard that you acquired her from the same location which sourced the new Archon Residue specimens.”

Enough of this.

“I advise you to watch your words, Zandik,” says Pierro. “My partner has nothing to do with your little investigation. I do not pry into your private affairs, particularly the Akademiya scholar you have been stalking, so it would do you well to reciprocate the gesture.”

A moment of silence passes.

“Of course. I know better than to pry into forbidden knowledge.” Resigned, Dottore picks up his research notes and flips to another page. “Before I leave, I have another report to share with you.”

Pierro picks up his pen. “Proceed."

“In seemingly unrelated news, I have the results of the chemical test you requested. For the most part, I identified common household substances in the carpet samples you sent me…apart from one compound.”

“And that is?”

“Among the chemical components, I found low traces of Archon Residue.”

So his suspicions were correct.

Dottore’s smile returns. “I wonder how such a substance ended up in your estate. But given your earlier admonishment, I won’t pry into the matter any further.”

Pierro gives him a stern look. “If you have nothing more to report on, you are dismissed.”

“Very well. I bid you a good night.”

With that, Dottore places the research notes on the desk and leaves the office.

That explains the information from his spies.

Pierro reads the second report.

He did find it quite odd that ______ requested an extensive tour of the estate and was later seen with a bandaged thumb. So she had claimed her prison in his absence.

How clever of her.

It was wise of him to lock the doors to his personal quarters. Until it is necessary for him to divulge his awareness of her scheme, he should avoid formal meetings in his estate.

Despite his irritation, he can’t help but feel impressed.

Well-played, ______.

iv. rook

The replicated festival is a success.

Since her birthday, his darling has been more docile. The smiles directed at Pierro are more soft, cheerful, paired with brighter eyes. Their dinner conversations are more relaxed.

However, her kindness remains a double-edged blade.

“Hello, little ones.” ______ crouches down in the snow, a warm smile on her face. “May I know your names?”

The children eagerly crowd around her, small hands grabbing at her dress and veil. One child takes advantage of their eye-level position to play with her necklace, to which she laughs and lightly scolds him.

“No, you can’t have it. It’s from—wait, don’t pull the chain!”

He should have kept her at home.

“Lord Harbinger.” The orphanage caregiver gives Pierro a nervous look. “If the children are bothering your partner, I can send them to their rooms.”

He turns to face them. “There is no need. You may proceed with your report on the next batch of recruits.”

“Thank you for your leniency, my lord!”

Pierro casts a final glance at the courtyard. His darling is managing the children quite well, all things considered. After saving her necklace, she carries the offender and lifts him high above her head. Her laughter has never sounded more lively.

What a heartwarming sight.

He will allow it, so long as she doesn’t object to their fate.

*✧･ﾟ

“You appeared to be in high spirits earlier.”

“Are you referring to the orphans?”

The bedchambers feel less empty with ______’s presence. She lies on her side of the bed, an enthusiastic smile on her face.

“They were adorable! Those precious lambs asked me to participate in all sorts of games. You should have seen little Damien; he kept running around and ‘defeating’ me with a wooden sword.”

Damien Morozov, eight years old. Already shows promise in swordsmanship.

Pierro hangs his coat in his wardrobe. “Are you partial to the company of children?”

“I guess so.” She takes off her veil, eyes dimming. “I used to play with my young followers often. Why do you ask?”

“I was merely curious. You were quite eager to entertain the orphans’ antics.”

Would she be as loving with their own children?

Pierro unlocks the drawer. His old Khaenri’ahn attire remains in good condition. He can still remember the time ______ mended his clothes, requesting permission to cover up the holes with her embroidery. Every little star and diamond seemed to breathe new life into the fabric.

If he is ambitious enough, he can envision it clearly. A new set of embroidered clothes for a smaller frame. A family portrait displayed in their manor. Tiny pupils shaped like four-pointed stars, sparkling with innocence. His darling’s gaze filled with love and devotion.

“Pierro? What are you looking at?”

He closes the drawer. “That is none of your concern.”

______ gives him a suspicious look. “If you say so.”

Now is not the time to entertain such delusions.

The divine rebellion has barely begun. Likewise, so long as his darling remains an unwilling captive, he would be a fool to imagine any semblance of a happy family with her.

It is a tempting thought, however.

Pierro locks the drawer and approaches the bed.

For whatever reason, his darling has morphed into her true form. Her skin is dusted with gray dots and swirls resembling mist. A clear reminder of her divine nature.

His gaze stops at her wrists.

Even with her divine markings, her bruises are evident. The same can be said for the dark blemishes on her hips and knees.

He observes her exposed face this time. It was quite satisfying to provoke those honest expressions out of her. He couldn’t get enough of the look in her eyes.

Neediness, trepidation, absolute submission. All for him.

His hand slams down on the pillow, a few centimeters away from her head.

“Pierro?” She startles, turning her head to face him. “What is it?”

He doesn’t offer an explanation this time, just leans down and kisses her. His other hand pulls down the neckline of her dress.

“Hey…ah! Stop!”

She lightly shoves him, only for her wrist to be easily pinned to the mattress.

Pierro pulls away, ending the kiss. His other hand traces the curve of her chest, eliciting another soft gasp. “Have you taken your contraceptive recently?”

She looks away, biting her lip. “I…”

He puts his hand under her chin, tilting her face upwards. “I asked you a question, ______.”

His darling looks so powerless beneath him. So easy to break. To desecrate.

She nervously meets his gaze. “I…I did.”

“Excellent. Then I don’t need to hold back.”

He sets his own mask aside and kisses her with more fervor.

The Old World is no place for the future of Khaenri’ah. Until absolute peace has been achieved, that dream will have to remain a fantasy.

Until then, his darling’s affection will solely belong to him.

v. queen

The Snezhnayan winters are becoming more frigid.

“Is the temperature of the room to your satisfaction?” Pierro drapes another blanket over his darling’s shoulders. “Inform me if you need another blanket.”

She gives him an exasperated look. “There is no need to coddle me. My human vessel isn’t that frail, you know.”

Says the person who once drowned him in blankets and hot tea on a rainy day.

“The nights will be colder at this time of the year. There is no harm in looking out for your physical health.”

“Then the same can be said for you.” Despite her earlier remark, she wraps herself in the blanket. “Even I can’t stand the Snezhnayan environment. Don’t you get sick of the cold?”

Pierro glances at the window. Outside, another blizzard paints the sky with swirling snow. White, frigid, nothing like Celestia’s sea of flames.

“I am rather impartial to this nation’s climate,” he replies, returning to the sofa.

A chessboard sits on the low table, along with a bottle of fire-water. ______ empties her glass and refills it to the brim.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “I did not take you for one to overindulge in vices.”

Another glass finished. “You drank nearly as much as I did.”

“I know my limits.” He confiscates the bottle and hands her a glass of water. “That is enough wine for you. Any more, and you will make a fool out of yourself later.”

She rolls her eyes, but drinks it and lowers her veil. “All right. Shall we continue our game?”

Regardless, he will be the sole audience to her inebriated theatrics.

“If you are so confident that you can play with a clouded mind.”

His attention returns to the chessboard. ______’s opening move was a direct challenge. No mercy, then.

He moves a black pawn. “Disregarding the climate, you have become well-adjusted to Snezhnaya. I must commend your growth over the previous year.”

“You think so?” She stares at the chessboard, assessing the pieces. “That isn’t a big achievement, seeing how all I’ve done is behave in the estate like a model prisoner.”

A model prisoner who remains strategic.

“I beg to disagree. From what I have seen, your current conduct and level of education are befitting of your new status.”

The expression under her veil is doubtful. “You’re just being nice. My studies, this dress, the title you gave me…it doesn’t make me any more worthy for the New World.”

Her next move is clumsy.

Pierro easily counterattacks. “I shall be the judge of that.”

The game continues. Chess pieces are toppled. With each sequence, the influence of alcohol becomes more apparent. ______ begins to mumble, sway slightly, make bad moves.

“Another loss.” She frowns at her toppled king. “No fair…how are you so good at this game? How many victories would that make for you?”

Pierro touches her cheek. He can feel her warmth through the fabric of his gloves.

“You should rest,” he decides. He places the chess pieces back in their original squares. “Can you walk to the bedchambers on your own or shall I escort you?”

“What a chivalrous offer,” she scoffs. She gathers the sacrificed pawns, only for the pieces to slip out of her loose grasp. “You are insufferable, you know that? Impossible to comprehend…”

He might as well take advantage of her openness. “Why do you say this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” ______ rests her head on her palm and peers at him with glassy eyes, chess pieces forgotten. “For starters, while you have been concerned about my health all night, I have no doubt that you will scold me tomorrow and make me study despite my hangover.”

“You wouldn’t have to suffer from a hangover if you had drunk less wine,�� he shoots back.

She shakes her head. “Honestly, I can’t figure you out. One moment, you’re absolutely cruel and strict towards me; next, you make me so happy that I almost forget our arrangement. It makes me feel so conflicted, the way you treat me…I hate it.”

“So why do you endure it?”

“Huh?”

The office feels more humid. Perhaps she had involuntarily raised her mist.

Pierro holds her arm, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You claim to be a weak deity, yet my research states otherwise. And despite your powers, you have never made an attempt on my life—both in the past and in the present. Why is that?”

She stares back at him, eyes wide behind her veil. “That…”

He glares at her, strengthening his grip. “Are you truly as foolish as you are kind? Or does your mercy stem from pity towards that poor thing you saved all those years ago?”

For a few seconds, his darling is silent. She looks away, her arm limp in his grasp.

“Of course not. I…I just don’t want to get in your way,” she mumbles. Her gaze trains on the medals displayed on the wall. “You’re amazing, you know that? You became stronger…found a new purpose in life…now you’re actively changing the world for the better.”

He could get drunk off her praise.

“So it would be a shame if you lost it all because of me,” she continues. Then she shakes her head, smiling. “But what am I saying? You will never let that happen, no matter your fondness nor gratitude towards me.”

He lets go of her arm. “There is no use in reflecting on that theory.”

“Really now? If the Tsaritsa ever viewed me as an obstacle, would you kill me for her?”

Would he?

When was the last time he found himself at a loss of words? As far as he can recall, it was years ago—back when the Tsaritsa posed a similar question.

“The God of Mist? I did not know she was still alive. So she saved you in the past, and now you intend to overthrow her and keep her for yourself.”

Pierro cleared his throat. “I humbly request your permission, Your Majesty. Apart from the elimination of a potential threat, the subjugation of █████ will provide the Fatui with a new territory and invaluable resources.”

“Yes, and I imagine that you recognized every possible benefit prior to this discussion,” she said knowingly. “You have my permission. I trust your judgment.”

“You have my gratitude,” he replied, bowing.

“Oh, but Pierro?”

He looked up to face her. The Tsaritsa was the opposite of his previous savior—pure, sacrosanct, a kindred spirit who had chosen the path of vengeance and revolution. From her lofty throne, she couldn’t look more divine.

Her gaze was cold. “Remember where your loyalties lie.”

Without hesitation, he kneeled before her.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“It is illogical to compare love and worship,” he finally says. “Do not ask a question you already know the answer to, especially one which you will likely forget in the morning.”

“All right.”

The look on her face shows pure understanding. Yet despite the tears welling up in her eyes—from fear? Disappointment? Heartbreak?—her smile seems genuine.

“I am glad to hear that,” she says, voice trembling. “Any other answer, and you would be no better than a lovesick fool.”

How did she appear during their first chess game? Compared to the savior of his memories, the god before him looks so fragile. Acquiescent. Openly vulnerable.

This time, she doesn’t protest when he lifts her veil. Pierro leans over the table and brushes his thumb against her flushed cheek, wiping away her tears.

“Rest assured, I will never allow such a situation to happen,” he says softly. “My final choice would not be without internal strife.”

After all he has endured, such a scenario would be the greatest loss in his life.

“And why is that?” she asks.

“Because above all, you are the only good thing left of the Old World.”

vi. king

“Pierro.”

“Psst, Pierro.”

“Rise and shine…”

“Wake up!”

At the sensation of the pillow hitting his face, Pierro grimaces and catches her wrist.

“What do you want?” he mutters, opening his eyes.

______ looms over him, eyes faintly glowing in the dark. “Finally, you’re awake.”

He turns to his side and glances at the clock. “Is it already past midnight?”

She gives him a bright smile. “Happy anniversary!”

No wonder.

Pierro lets go of her wrist and sits up, facing the window. The sky is still dim, on the cusp of twilight. The lingering darkness is dotted with stars.

“Did you feel the need to greet me as soon as you woke up?” he asks drily.

Despite her nightgown and bedhead, ______ looks full of energy.

“Yes,” she replies. A proud smile plays across her lips. “This marks the ninety-ninth time I said it first.”

“Don’t look so triumphant,” he tells her. He brushes the loose strands of hair away from his face. “It will take centuries for you to catch up to me.”

“I know. So have mercy on your dear wife and let me have this one victory.”

He might as well. These days, her celebrations are solely limited to their birthdays and milestones. For this day alone, he will let his darling have her fun.

He still hasn’t returned her greeting.

“Happy anniversary,” he says with a soft smile. “Are you going back to sleep?”

She shakes her head. “No, so neither will you. We might as well prepare breakfast now that we’re awake.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “I saw the menu last week, along with what you planned for lunch and dinner. Wouldn’t you say that our banquet is too much for two people?”

At that, she holds his hand and intertwines their fingers. The dim light is caught in the pale blue gems of their rings.

“Of course not,” she smiles. “After all, we are commemorating the day I was shackled to you for all eternity. Such a tragic event deserves a grand celebration, doesn’t it?”

Pierro presses a kiss against her knuckles. “If you insist.”

How long has it been since their wedding? In her Khaenri’ahn gown, his darling was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Her happy tears marked her ultimate resignation.

His darling is extra touchy throughout their daily routine. Eye contact in the bathroom mirror. An unruly necklace clasp and corset strings. Fleeting touches as she helps him change into his own suit.

“You may open your gift after breakfast,” Pierro informs her as he puts on his mask. “I believe you will find it to your satisfaction.”

She turns to him, fully dressed. Her divine marks have faded into her human guise. She looks elegant, dignified, perfect for a Harbinger’s spouse.

“How exciting. After all these years, you never fail to surprise me,” she says. “I hope you are equally receptive to your own present.”

Pierro slips an embroidered handkerchief into his pocket, taking a moment to admire the new four-pointed stars. “I can only imagine what design you came up with this year.”

Their daily routine is over. Before they leave the room, ______ faces him and pulls him into her embrace. Her grip is strong.

“Hey, Pierro, how much longer until the rebellion ends?” she asks.

He wraps his arms around her. “Why do you ask?”

Thin wisps of natural mist swirl around them, weak and bloodless.

She leans into him. “Ever since the Fatui began acquiring the Gnoses, you’ve been even busier. Do take a break once in a while. And don’t put yourself in danger, you hear me?”

Her hands tremble. The mist rises, enveloping them in a cold haze.

“I find it insulting that you still entertain those fears,” he shoots back. He steps out of the mist. “As I said years ago, it will take more than a vengeful god or your antics to dispose of me.”

The mist disperses.

“I’ll trust you with that.” ______ releases him, a sincere smile on her face. “The sooner the New World is achieved, the sooner you can rest. And the more time I have with you.”

Under her veil, her eyes shine brighter than the stars. She is still speaking—his real name, whispered in such an adoring, reverent tone.

He should enjoy their special day while it lasts. Once their private party comes to an end, it will be back to work. Back to Zapolyarny Palace, his petulant Harbingers, Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, the future of the New World. But today, he can enjoy the present with his darling.

At the last whisper, he smiles and pulls her closer. Lifts her veil. Silences her with a kiss. Holds her gaze, staring into those hopeful orbs which reflect only him.

“I look forward to it.”

♡

Read the Author’s Note here!!

To think Pierro would end up with the longest, most twistedly wholesome side story…….how tf did that happen ;-; Also hahaha cheers to Dottore appearing in another Harbinger’s fic for the second time. Chemistry reference, anyone?? :>

Thank you to everyone who expressed their love for Disjecta Membra!! I didn’t expect so many ppl to like my version of Pierro and Savior! Darling, and I hope you all enjoyed Chess Piece. Do inform me of your suffering brainrot and consider sharing this to spread the Pierro agenda~

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @kocherry @mirdance @victoria1676 @mnemosyneechan @artiifex @pierroswife @fluffy-koalala @lcveaesop @teabutmakeitazure @nicebonescomrades @ansy-tea @oofasleep @leftdestiny-posts @thescribeoflostmemories @elysiasfiance @frostedclementine

Thank you for your interest in reading!! @yandere-romanticaa @ddarker-dreams @cinnamonest @yanmaresu @gum-iie

#pierro #pierro x reader #yandere pierro x reader #yandere pierro #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #spicy warning #mdni #fem reader #jessamine-writing

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droughtofapathy · 6 months

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Thinking about how Kelli O'Hara was on that recurring character contract last season, signed that main character contract this season, and immediately got her screen time slashed to bits. Justice for Aurora Fane. She was out there surrounded by the ladies all last season. Now she has to suffer through these men buzzing around her. Let the woman go back to her lady friends.

#the gilded age #aurora fane

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rohirric-hunter · 11 months

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So in LotRO, typically, if there's a prison/torture chamber where prisoners are being visibly mistreated and there's no way for the player to put a complete stop to that, the prisoners being mistreated will be orcs and goblins. A good example of this is Naerband, where you free a few Nurnhoth, but ultimately no matter what you do, every time you go back to the place there will still be torture actively happening -- however this torture is always happening to orcs, goblins, and a few trolls. The Nurnhoth you free for the repeatable quest are hiding in corners, and not being actively mistreated.

Compare that to the Fane of Screaming, where human characters are being held captive and tortured, but after you complete the quest to rescue them, they don't respawn, and any subsequent visits to the location will reveal no further prisoners (and a bunch of orcs just absolutely wailing away at nothing at all, but it's an MMO, we don't expect amazing continuity from it).

This is a pretty classic example of evading the censors, and it's present in basically every fantasy video game ever, and not in and of itself a huge deal, except it did make me think of something kind of dark. One of the reasons why this tactic successfully evades the censors is because the player does half the rationalizing for them; these guys are enemies, and statistically speaking Probably Bad People, and even though we disapprove of torture in general it's easier to ignore or look past when the people suffering are Bad People, right? They're probably just here because they Failed Someone for the Last Time (not for lack of trying) or due to some kind of delicate political situation.

Except. Not too far from Naerband, you meet Viznak. And Viznak is -- he has the more mischievous and chaotic personality traits common to goblins, but he's not cruel. Even other goblins in the game that you're able to reason with and strike a deal mutually beneficial deal with, like Sorrog Crows-eye, have cruel streaks to them -- and Viznak stands out in that he never once, not even for a moment, takes any sort of delight in the misfortune of the player or their friends. And it's not written like he has cruel urges but has realized it's not right and is struggling to overcome them; Viznak is just. Not a mean person. And given that this goblin lives in Mordor itself and still managed to outlast all the cultural indoctrination he must have been subjected to, to be cruel and horrible, isn't it possible that there might be others who also managed it? And obviously the armies of Sauron have no place for individuals who don't delight in cruelty and evil, so if they aren't like that already and it can't be taught, they're going to be got rid of... but maybe not ALL of them got banished to Agarnaith.

It's most likely not a huge percentage of them, but the game does definitely lead the player (or me at any rate) to consider that maybe some of those ambiance orcs & goblins are being punished for the crime of Not Being Horrible. Which is a little bit of a miserable thought to have, so I don't think about it often, but it does occur to me sometimes.

#lotro #long post #viznak is a bit vague on why exactly he got banished #he was 'too smart' and 'wouldnt follow orders'#but my hc is that he was killing his enemies quickly instead of Being Horrible about it #and maybe even stopping other goblins from Being Horrible about it #which is the smart thing to do! why give them more reasons to hate you AND leave them alive for a while? dumb plan #but also he clearly just. doesnt get a horrible enjoyment out of it like most other orcs and goblins you talk to

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cassynite · 1 year

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A bit late on this one but I wonder about Sparrow and someone large and comforting like the Hand of the Inheritor?

Ooooh my god. Okay. Okay so. My first initial reaction was "wouldn't work out, Sparrow would dip out of that relationship the moment the Hand fucks off after finding out the truth about the mythic powers" but then I thought about it and. I think there's something there. Buckle up because I swear this came to me in like, a fucking vision, it goes places.

So Sparrow is not very close to the Hand at first. He's Iomadae's herald and clearly believes that Sparrow has been chosen by the goddess despite Sparrow's own doubts and the lack of definitive proof. But they get closer in Pulura's Falls; Sparrow sees just how much good the Hand has in him and how much he wants to help others; the Hand sees Sparrow's kindness and compassion for others in how she helps the people in the Falls with their problems. By the end of the quest he's absolutely certain that Iomadae chose her not because of her power but because she's the kind of person a goddess should choose; he would have chosen her as champion in Iomadae's place! There's a lot of admiration there, and it definitely increases once Targona is rescued--Sparrow shows herself to be strong, capable, and deeply kind.

In this scenario, I think that Sparrow and the Hand start talking beyond their duties and responsibilities. Sparrow ruminates on the nature of goodness and choice and argues against the ideas of inherent evil. The Hand is obviously an extraplanar being who exists within a plane of Good, so his perspective is very different (though not entirely against Sparrow's arguments--after all, an angel can fall and a demon can rise. Clearly not even creatures born out of positive and negative/lawful and chaotic energies within the universe are static). It leads to a lot of discussion about what the best way to eradicate evil would be, if that was even possible or feasible, and what a plan to do so might look like. They also talk about things like, redemption and forgiveness, and even in one charged conversation, about love and its strength.

It's all theoretical and philosophical discussions, and while I don't think the Hand necessarily challenges Sparrow on a high intellectual way, he has a very different mindset and worldview that is engaging to learn about and he's willing to hear and listen to her ideas. Sparrow is galvanized to do more good and focus on those plans and hypotheticals; she begins to imagine the kind of work she could do with her abilities and her ideas after the Crusade.

They storm the Fane; Galfrey attempts to take Sparrow's title. Sparrow, still non-confrontational and dealing with imposter syndrome, accepts the criticism at face value, but the Hand argues vehemently against Galfrey's assessments of Sparrow's ability as Commander, even more so than in canon. It's deeply touching to Sparrow to have someone come to her defense like that, for someone to believe in her so wholeheartedly.

They go to the Abyss. It's awful, and Sparrow hates it, but she also shows compassion and care wherever she can, continuing to prove to the Hand that she has that sense of goodness in her. She frees captives, kills slavers, argues in favor of taking in Xorges in because he is more than just a Qlippoth...and then Battlebliss happens and Sparrow is captured to be a battle slave. Like in her canon, she has a complete meltdown in captivity, a full-on panic attack. The Hand feels helpless. Despite how bad of an idea it would be, he very nearly appears to rescue her personally; it's only Zeklex telling Sparrow he can help her escape that stops him from going through with it.

While Sparrow is resting before her fight in the arena, the Hand tries to comfort her, though he can't understand why her reaction was just that intense. Sparrow, in a rare show of vulnerability, talks about her past with the Hand--her slavery, the abuse she suffered for years, how she had only just escaped it, and how this was like walking right back into a trap. Feeling the collar on her neck makes her want to scream. And the Hand comforts her, and tells her that no matter what he will ensure she gets out of this, that she will never be alone and he will never let this happen to her again. It's a very intense moment, and it works to calm Sparrow--this is also the moment where she falls in love with him, though she won't face that fact for a while. She ends up escaping the Battlebliss in a far better mental state than in canon.

Then, of course, Sparrow meets Nocticula and Areelu, and she finds out the source of her powers are from the Abyss, and--horrified--the Hand leaves. It's a terrible blow, and Sparrow struggles to hide just how badly she took it in front of everyone, focusing only on the matter at hand. She tries to tell herself that of course he left--why does she ever expect anything different?

She goes back to the Nexus and meets him, and he expresses his doubts about her, how she's not actually the chosen of Iomadae...it's like he crafted the perfect speech to make her feel the worst way possible. Everything about their friendship--about whatever they had, because Sparrow might not admit it but her feelings at this point are not platonic--was based on the Hand's belief that Sparrow was something she was not, and she's been deemed unworthy. She's not enough.

Sparrow doesn't argue, she just says she's going to stop the crystal production with or without him--chosen by a goddess or not, and she never thought she was, she's going to stop more superpowered demons from hurting people. Like in canon, this brings the Hand around, and he apologizes for his doubts and travels with the party to the Nahyndrian Crystal Mines.

On the ship ride there, the Hand and Sparrow speak privately, the Hand again apologizing for his words and for his doubts. Sparrow brushes it off, withdrawn and defenses all the way up; she tells him that she couldn't have expected anything else, given the circumstances. It definitely sounds closer to "I don't expect anything else from anyone but for them to abandon me when I need them most." At least, that's how the Hand hears it.

It's a bad resolution and whatever they had before feels fractured and lost as they face off Baphomet. Even so, when Baphomet "kills" the Hand, Sparrow screams in despair.

Act 5, after Sparrow has chosen to keep the power--because she's made it her own, and she refuses to accept anything can only be what it comes from--she immediately works on finding the Ineluctable Prison after Iomadae tells her the Hand is alive. She breaks through the prison, finds the Hand's tortured heart, and faces off with his corrupted husk--and the Hand tells her that it's pointless, that he's not worth saving anyway. That he loved her and he failed her and now he's going to kill her, in the emotionless voice of someone who is aware of what he once felt but now cannot feel anything at all.

Of course, that's not what happens. Sparrow defeats him, and gives him his heart--he tries to refuse at first, saying he doesn't deserve it, and Sparrow insists. He takes it back, and the feeling returns--especially the guilt. No matter what Sparrow says, he will not return to Iomadae's side. He's not worthy of it, any more. He tells Sparrow that he needs...something, to find something to truly become good again. That he was unworthy of her and that he broke her trust and her faith, and that he cannot stand by her side as he is, especially with these feelings he has.

And Sparrow breaks down. She asks if he's really going to leave again. She tells him that if he really loved her--the way she loved him--then worthiness would have nothing to do with it. He'd just fucking stay. And the Hand goes silent, cups her cheek in his hand. And then leaves. Sparrow doesn't speak at all the entire way back to Drezen.

She returns back to...Iomadae, waiting for her, with an angel at Iomadae's side. The angel calls Sparrow by name and she realizes it's the Hand, out of armor for the first time she's ever seen him. He tells her that he wanted to show Iomadae that he was alive, and also to formally request to leave his position as her Herald. He cannot stay in the position with the weakness he has shown--Iomadae cuts in saying she doesn't agree with his assessment, but won't stop him from making his own choices.

He goes to Sparrow and asks if she meant it, when she told him that it didn't matter if he was worthy or not. And Sparrow tells him that love has nothing to do with worthiness, and he tells her he will stay. They close the Worldwound together, and when he goes on his journey to spread goodness among mortals, he has Sparrow by his side.

#cassy answers #dujour13 #i was going to go to BED #i was gonna answer this tomorrow morning with basically like 'nah not in the cards' and this came to me #i was possessed to write this sappy ass love story arc #oc: sparrow #hand of the inheritor #wotr #pwotr

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herzgeist-writes · 9 months

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17) Sister Of The Sun

Pairing: Law x fem!reader | Word count: 3.5k | Warnings: Cussing, a bit suggestive at times

Dividers by cafekitsune

„Where is this cursed little thing?", you groan as you rummage through the drawer of your desk. All sorts of rubbish scatters in there, it's really necessary to clean out your belongings. With a victorious cheer you reach out to the object you seek. The rose gold necklace with the moonstone pendant the old lady from Antra gave you. If you can recall correctly, she wished you safe travels over Faemunlin's guidance. That was the name you heard in your dreamy experience.

Taking a close look at the stone, you feel yourself strangely drawn to it and hold the pendant between your thumb and index finger. What you didn't expect was for it to suddenly burn your skin, earning a shocked low yelp: „Ow, what the fuck?" Blowing some air on the irritation, you pout confused.

Loud knocking on the door startles you and you open the heavy metal. „(Y/n) honey, wanna go for a little swim on lunch break?", the cheerful brunette beams at you with a gleeful bounce in her step. Out of it you agree without any second thoughts, but you come to realise you don't own a complete bikini set, and the top you wore a few days ago is in the laundry. As if she read your mind, she throws something at you: „Here, you can borrow mine! I figured you don't have any swimming garments. See you at twelve!" - „E-eh?"

Did she drink too much coffee this morning? You can't remember seeing her this hyper for a while. Peering down at the bikini she threw at you, your eyes widen in embarrassment, the top seems a bit too small for your bust size. Welp, let's try it on, hopefully it fits.

The heat is driving you mad, faning your hand at your face to ease the suffering, for nought. The sun crashes upon you and there's no breeze giving you the slightest bit of relief. It was a bad idea to take walk in the desert like sun. You only wanted some time for yourself, but that apparently wasn't possible. Bepo sees you in the distance, waving at you happily.

„Greetings, Vice Commander. How can I help you?" - „Hiya! I thought I'd give you some company. Are you struggling with the hot weather as well?", you agree to his question with a loud sigh, still faning yourself with your sweat soaked palms. The bear chuckles and appears to be having a hard time just as you, given the fact he has a thick fur coat, designed for arctic temparatures.

You two stroll along the sands and talk about nothing important in particular, until a concern pops up in your mind: „Bepo, do you know anything about the northern mink culture?" Astounded he turns to you with his mouth agape, letting you see his pointy canines. „To be fair, I only remember being set off into the wild by some strange looking men. Not long after, Law, Shachi and Penguin found me."

In thought you reach into your pant pocket and fish out the moonstone necklace, showing it to the polar bear. Upon seeing the accessory in your hand, he suddenly reacts like a beast, growling furiously and flashing his teeth at it. Taken aback you shove it back into the pocket. „Woah, sorry! What is it Bepo?" - „A-Apologies...I don't know...what just came over me. What was that necklace you just held?"

Explaining to him where you got it from, you add all the suspisions and related topics you are aware of. In the past, you heard from Faemunlin and the moonstone before, but you weren't deliberating about it all too much, since you were only thirteen years old that time. The Vice Commander ponders over your knowledge about the northern mink culture, questioning why you are so concerned.

„Back when I was living on the streets as a refugee kid, I had a very good friend. She told me stories of her people, the beliefs, the wonders, the sorrows. Why my home was turned to ruins. She tried her best to keep me safe, though at first I acknowledged her as an enemy, but...I learned to cherish her." - „She sounds wonderful. We have to visit her sometime!", it takes you back, telling Bepo about your past. Gulping down the lump in your throat you shake your head subtly, looking up at the cheery mink: „I'm afraid that won't be possible anymore..."

A gasp escapes the bear, rumbling a low ‚oh', realising what you implied with your last statement. Humbly he apologizes and his ears droop in sadness. You reassure him with a meak smile and concentrate on your steps ahead.

You continue to ramble while you struggle to keep your composure: „I remember her telling me, whoever finds that certain fragment of the stone, will be bestowed with great powers." - „Oh, that sounds scary..."

After you arrived back at the beach of the harbour close to the submarine, you see Ikkaku waving in the distance: „Oi! Let's go (Y/n)!" Shaking your head in amusement you excuse yourself from Bepo and jog over to her, panting heavily from the straining heat. The curly haired woman is already up and about, enjoying the cold waters in her cute peach coloured swimming suit. She exclaims playfully outraged: „You're not in uniform!" - „Hold your horses, just let me take off my clothes, I'm wearing the bikini underneath. chill!"

She laughs, waiting impatiently by jumping up and down through the small waves crossing her legs. Finally you set aside your attire, wearing the red thin laced bikini and induldge in the cold wet, a relieved moan leaving your lips. In the distance the bear yells enviously: „Why wasn't I invited?!", Ikkaku chortles as she props her hands to her hips, „It was meant to be a ladies date, but if you insist, then you can bring the others as well!" And there goes the big white fluff ball, cheering and waddling over to the Polar Tang.

„Is that really a good idea?", you ask coyly with an uncertain tone in your voice. The brunette just wiggles her eyebrows at you sassily: „Though he can't swim, maybe the Captain will join us too? You can admire eachother from afar." With all your might you splash a big lot of water into her face. This feels so awkward, though you already enjoyed a few beach days with your crew, today it just doesn't feel right, for your bikini is dangerously close to exposing your fullness.

It's a battle to the death, you give your best to dodge her water attacks and counter them as fast as you can. She even brought a ball to play with. „Are we seven years old, Ikakku?" - „Oh come on, it's fun!", you scoff at her as you hold the white and red coloured water toy in your hands. So you give in to her sillyness and tag along, enjoying the cool the sea delivers.

„Hey girls! Don't start without us!", you hear someone calling behind you. Turning around you see Shachi, Penguin and Bepo, all ready for a swim. At least he isn't here. This could've ended pretty unpleasantly. The boys come running, wading through the water with ease.

Just as you were about to swing the ball back to childlike Ikkaku, you hear the red head coughing hysterically. „Look at those boo- ow!", he screams, while holding his hand seemingly infront of his nose, but Penguin slaps his back head, interrupting his exclamation. „Booze bottles, I meant to say booze bottles!", he adds, for he actually holds up two bottles of sake in his hands, grinning cockily at his colleague. He is beyond compare and repair. Of course he had to bring something to drink on his day off.

Bepo lets himself float in the waves, his big fluffy belly peeking out the water: „Ah, at last some cold!" - „You can say that again!" It makes you laugh, seeing the group all worn out by the heat, letting themselves go and thrive on a beautiful summer day.

The five of you decided to play some water ball with eachother, the one who couldn't catch it has to take a sip from the sake bottle. Back and forth it goes. Once it was Ikkaku's turn, then Penguin's and even Bepo's, but you let him sit this one out, for he reacts with a disgruntled snout twitching when sniffing the alcohol. You as well had to take a sip.

As the bear throws the ball at you, you ready yourself to catch it, not wanting to let that bitter sake flow down your throat again. „Catch!", he muses and the toy comes flying at you with full speed. But before you know it, it suddenly changes it's shape midair, looking like a balloon filled with water, threatening to splash onto your face. And so it does.

Ice cold water hits your skin and you shiver, frozen in place. Your crew mates let out a surprised gasp, standing there with confuddled faces. Bepo looks to the left and immediately points at a person, lounging on a beach chair over at the coast. Apparently this is the crook who sabotaged the game. And there you thought you'd have some peaceful time with your mates.

Wading over to land, you fume and let out unheard of curses as you bore holes into him, while grunting furiously: „Trafalgar...". The hot sand tickles your soles and you tower over the man, reading a book under the parasol. „If it isn't my favorite doctor. May I please have the ball back?", you bark at him while clenching your teeth. He musters at you through the corners of his eyes and smirks: „What ball?" - „The one you oh so nicely replaced with the ice filled water balloon?"

Putting his book aside he gets off his chair, now hovering over your tiny, compared to his tall frame. „Oh, you mean this one?", the ball appears in his hand as he narrows at you playfully and you hastily hold out to it. Shit, it's gone again. Confused you glare at your Captain, who only mutters a haughty: „Oops." Did he really just port it away again? The toy lands onto Shachi's red head in the distance, him holding the aching spot in shock, exclaiming a short ‚hey!'. Sometimes this aloof boy drives you insane with his overbearing arrogance. This means war. You jump as high as you can to snatch off his hat and place it on your head: „Tit for tat, Captain!"

Oh you didn't just do that, you fell right for his trap, for he already had seen this coming. He only looks you up and down and holds another water balloon in his hand, flashing you an overconfident grin. Is it just you, or did the temperature rise again? You haven't yet noticed, but the man infront of you is actually wearing dark blue swim trunks, no vest or anything of that kind, which he usual keeps around his shoulders. The tattoos being the only thing he wears on his upper body.

It's not the first time you see his chest presented like this, but gods be damned it sets something ablaze within you when you see every detail on him. Not to mention the bottoms are hanging lazily from his hips, giving you a full picture of that V line you almost drool upon. (Y/n) wake up! This is not a drill!

„(Y/n)-ya, is that Ikkaku's swim suit by any chance?" - „Yes, but it's a bit too small for my taste. Why do you ask?", he sneers at you, for he has you right where he wants you, unknowing and innocent. Without warning, another splash of ice crashes over you, for the doctor exchanged the balloon with his hat on your head. Humming in delight his steel coloured eyes sparkle at you: „I wasn't complaining about the size."

You only stand there with your eyes closed, shrugging it off and just accepting your fate: „How delightful, Captain. Very refreshing." Suddenly it dawns on you what he just commented on the suit you're wearing, a dust of red spreading over your cheeks as you speak: „O-oh, are you implying you like what you see?" It almost takes a specialist to see the faintest change in his expression, it's clear to you that your question just hit the target. Nervosity making itself vacant in his eyes.

This is beginning to be fun. On full purpose you push your breasts together, leaning down to present your barely covered chest. Law curses you and your womanly charms for which he fell, to his demise. He musters a scoff at you and mumbles arrogantly: „You're making a fool of yourself, (Y/n)-ya." - „Look who's talking! Aren't you the one who's complaining about the paper towers in his office?"

Visibly he flips you off with a cold stare of his storm grey eyes, making his way over to his chair and begins to read where he left of. You decide to take a seat on the neighbouring deckchair, planting yourself onto your stomach. Letting the sea water trickle down your skin. Suddenly you recall the questions concluding Law, that are overloading your thoughts. Propping yourself up on your elbows you turn to the Captain. „I need to ask you something." - „Shoot.", you raise an eyebrow at him and he permits you to speak your mind without losing his focus from his book.

„Since when have you been able to dance and speak foreign languages?", that is something he expected the least, but it suprises him positively. A meak smile crosses his lips as he explains to you: „When studying difficult topics like medicine and anatomy, it's important to keep your body as sharp as your mind. And learning foreign languages is only a beneficial bonus. I caught a few things back as a kid, wasn't too hard."

It appears he's not going into further detail, which saddens you to a certain point, but you don't want to pressure him. You're intimidated by his intelligence and let out an amazed ‚wow'. Then you feel his steel eyes plastered upon you, looking you up and down, fixated at your thighs for a short second. It tickles you, watching him checking you out. „How about you? Since when have you been able to sing so beautifully?", nearly jumping out of your seat you stare at him blankly.

„D-Did you hear me?" - „Well, I must confess I listened to your siren like sounds the night before I brought the kitten Corazon outside. Apologies.", this is beyond embarrassing. Where is the next cliff you can jump off? Wanting to dig a hole and bury yourself in it, your Captain emphasises your talent, telling you to keep on using your lovely voice. This doesn't make things any easier, obviously.

„But what made me wonder the most was the song itself. The meaning, what is it about? I thought I heard it somewhere before.", he tilts his head at you questioningly. To be expected from a man with high capacity. It tears on your heartstrings, thinking about it's symbolisms. The aching words flashing pictures of your past infront of you. It's not as easy as you thought it would be, telling him about your true self.

Reading you like a book, he waves it off: „You don't have to tell me, if it's too much of a sensitive topi-" - „It's a song about the north blue. The high north if you will. How my people have suffered from slavery and betrayal. How minks were the accused enemies, but in truth, our family at heart."

Unbelievable. Hearing this coming from you astounds the doctor more than he seems to look like on the outside. Once more, he sets the book aside and turns to face you, listening attentively. „You know the arctic mink tribe?" - „I do. I befriended one of their leaders. She was the most kindest person I've known.", he doesn't like how you use the past tense, signalising him that something must have happend to that friend of yours. His curiousity only grows.

„I've been thinking alot since the nightmare occured. The moonstone I received...the deity Faemunlin.", you ramble clearly to yourself, but Law snaps you out of it: „If you don't mind me asking, what was the dream about?" To explain all the acts that played ,turns out to be harder than anticipated, especially the part where you shared an intimate moment with the man sitting beside you, which you obviously left out. In hopes he doesn't notice your secrecy. You know all too well that he despises it, when things are kept from him.

Thus you come to the point, where you spotted Faemunlin's wolf appearance. „It felt like...that was me. The beast in the reflection...it was me who killed you.", you struggle to hold in your tears. The Captain heaves himself out of his chair and comes closer to you, kneeling down beside you and laying his warm palm on your shoulder blade: „Hey, calm down. It's okay."

Guardian of the gods. That burns into Law's brain and leaves a sour after taste on his mind. He heard from the guardians before, but only fleeting. If he's remembering correctly, guardians are initially mortal beings to be chosen by the spirit of the moon, the sister of the sun. Upon receiving the powers, the guardians are told to be born demi-gods. All mysteries and sayings he heard from townsfolk in Flevance when he was younger.

This is definitly something he'll research further, for he needs to know if you are involved into gods' affairs. If so, it might be reasonable, since you possess conqueror's haki. Powerful beings are naturally common targets.

Suddenly you hear Ikkaku and the others calling out to you, asking what you two love birds are up to. Awkward. Shachi is going full on out again. What a burden. Law is appalled just as much as you, though he cannot speak against the term ‚love birds', not completely at least. He decides to ignore him and reassures you softly: „Let's continue this conversation another time. For today I believe it's enough for your current mental state." This kindess radiating from him warms your heart. You turn to sit properly and face him, to thank his consideration.

Still kneeling down beside you he places his DEATH adorned hand on top of yours, nodding subtly. He catches himself staring at your tattoos and shakes his head hysterically while closing his eyes, so he straightens himself before you. About to take his leave he once more looks over his shoulder to you: „If it's not too much to ask, will you sing for us at an evening event sometime?" - „Since you asked so nicely, I'd love to."

The energy you beam lets his heart skip a beat and he reciprocates your smile, heading off without further ado by using his ability. So you sit there, kicking your feet in pure happiness. Though it all started with an unnecessary banter, the calm and deep conversation you held was filling your tummy with butterflies. The fleeting glances he threw at you, the accidental slips down your body.

The tension between you gets more fidgety to handle, but you can't seem to keep yourself to stay away from him. This man has been on your mind for a long amount of time now and you come to sense that he's also interested in you. Wether it's only lust or beyond that, you crave him. Yet no matter what blooms inside you, he is your Captain. It feels wrong.

„Men, prepare yourselves to submerge! It's time we set out for Punk Hazard, this won't be a short trip!" - „Aye Captain!", you heard Law rallying the crew as he steps on deck. The last day on this city island, you are quite relieved, though you wish you could've finished your tattoo here at the ‚Black Rose' shop, but this isn't of your highest concern.

Taking off into the belly of the Polar Tang, you make sure every object in the compartments, storages and stations are secured. Thinking back to when one of the turbines went down, you'd rather give a double check on those ropes and seals. You don't want the Captain pinning you down again, even though you would have nothing against it secretly.

So the journey begins, the submarine dives into the deep blue and leaves you astounded once more. Each time you look out the porthole at the front, you are amazed by the glistening light beaming through the water. The further down it goes, the darker and more mysterious it gets. All kinds of creatures swim along the Polar Tangs walls, colourful and flashy challenging the submarine to a race.

Penguin calls out to you from the corridors: „Hey (Y/n), could you check this out for me?" - „Sure, on my way!" It feels good to be on a cruise again. You can't wait what lies ahead.

#one piece #one piece law #trafalgar one piece #law x female reader #law x fem!reader #x reader #law x y/n #fanfic fluff #fanfiction #beautiful mind #+18 conent #slightly suggestive

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