#just a reminder of just how cold & cruel the fae and Herb can be^^ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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Title: Cold As Ice.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Fae!Yandere!Todoroki/Reader

Synopsis: Todoroki, the King of the Fae, seems to have lost his vulnerable, helpless, idiotic little mortal. He's as displeased as you'd expect, and he does plan to make his anger known.

TW: Graphic Violence, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Animal Death, and Imprisonment.

One of Shoto’s greatest pleasures was recalling the spring you’d first met.

Parts of it were true. Fae couldn’t lie, but they could omit, and he never failed to find a new detail to leave out whenever he recalled the months he’d spent in the mortal world. He told his court of the weeks you’d spent attending to his wounds and soothing his pain, or the charming cottage you shared and how quaint human civilization had become, since his last visit. With a small smile, he would speak of the livestock you’d tasked him to feed and the herbs you’d mixed into your tea, creating a concoction his fleet of servants could never seem to replicate. His favorite memory was the kiss you’d shared when he was finally healed, before he departed to return to his mysterious ‘homeland’. He loved you, and you loved him in return. It was something out of a fairytale, for him.

He didn’t tell them of the translucent blood that stained your hands for days after you freed him from the thawing ice, or the strange symbols he drew in the snow until it dissolved under the warmth of the spring sun. He never saw fit to mention the mare he beheaded, whose organs he carved out and jarred and kept in your pantry, if only to remind you of your companion’s slaughter. He wanted to make you seem like a willing partner. A sweet mortal who didn’t know better than to love a fae, a soulmate born into the wrong world. But, soulmates didn’t have to be held down to be kissed. They didn’t have to be threatened into returning their admirer’s affections. They didn’t have to be dragged into a land they did not know and thrown at the feet of a man they did not love. They should not hate their lover, not as you hate Shoto.

They should not run as soon as they’re given the chance to.

Shoto thought you preferred him to death. That was his mistake, his underestimation. He thought, if you were given the option of throwing yourself from the window of your tall, lonely tower, you’d be more scared of the inevitable injury that would entail than spending another day in your captor’s company. Now, with a hand clasped to the numb, throbbing shoulder that’d broken your fall and the bare soles of your feet beating harshly against the frozen ground, you thanked whichever gods were listening for his assumption. The forest, with all its winding roots and outstretched branches, was your safe-haven, the brisk air filling you with a sense of freedom, of strength. You weren’t sure how to get back to the human plane, not without magic, but a damp, dark cave would be a sanctuary compared to Shoto and all his fineries. You would be content with misery, as long as you were the one to choose it.

But, it was a hopeful dream. Already, you could hear the crack of hooves against soil, the soft footfalls of those agile enough to chase after you without a mount. This was just another hunt, to them, and you were an animal to be tracked and captured, to be skinned for your fur and declawed and thrown back into the wild because they thought that was better than putting you out of your suffering. Your revenge came in the form of boredom, in how easy you were to catch, in the refusal to indulge their desire for clever prey. Rather, you ran blindly, searching for a hole to hide inside of, a frozen lake their horses wouldn’t be able to follow you across. Simple methods, but fool-proof ones. Strategies even you wouldn’t be able to blunder.

A woman called out, a bird of prey screeched, and you spotted a knock in a barren cliffside, a deep hollow in an overlap of rock. It would be a tight fit, but if you held your breath and worked quickly, you might be able to find your way inside. You’d almost overlooked it in your panic. Surely, if you were quiet enough--

You never got a chance to finish that thought. Without warning, a gust of ice-cold wind washed over you, and something sharp and burning embedded itself in the back of your calf, your knees buckling as soon as the arrow found its mark. You collapsed, catching yourself with your injured arm out of instinct and screaming as a bright, primal burst of pain etched itself into your bones, your flesh, your being. But, that didn’t stop the hilt of your aggressor’s sword from colliding with the nape of your neck, cutting the sound short and sending you back to the ground. You didn’t try to catch yourself, this time.

With some effort, you roll yourself onto your side, gritting your teeth and tilting your head back to state up at the two faeries who surround you. Your found the woman first, a knight with a sword at her hip and a small, tight-lipped scowl. Yaoyorozu, the leader of the hunt, her hair darker than the night sky and her skin pale enough to put the falling snow to shame. A beauty, like all her kin, almost human if you looked beyond her swirling eyes and the pointed tips of her ears and nails. You had to remind yourself that she was one of the reasons for your current vulnerability.

Beside her was Shoto, a bow slung over his shoulder and an arrow missing from his impeccable quiver. His expression did little to betray him, all regal neutrality and flawless perfection, but his anger was present in his wings, outstretched and taunt behind him, in his white-knuckled grip on his chosen weapon. You met his eyes, and in a moment, his hand was around the shaft of another arrow, ready to send it through your chest with little more than a flick of his wrist. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped it, a fleeting look of self-scrutiny and pity passing across his expression. You could try to convince yourself that it’d been a reflex, that he didn’t truly want to be more destructive than he had to be, but you’d be lying if you tried to say there wasn’t the slightest hint of hesitation. Just another sign that his generosity wasn’t the reason for his delicacy.

He simply didn’t want to break his newest toy so quickly.

Yaoyorozu spoke first, addressing her ruler rather than her prisoner. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been treated as more than an extension of your captor. “I can call the others,” She said, her gaze flickering vaguely over the blood pooling underneath you. “We’ll need a healer if you want your pet to walk without a limp. I didn’t think to bring one, but the castle isn’t far.”

“I’ll handle it,” He replied, kneeling beside you. So close, you could make out the thin lines running through his translucent wings, flowers of ice and glass that deserved a better place to bloom. The corner of his left-most wing was scarred over, burnt to a leathery crisp, not unlike the matching scar over his nearest eye. In the back of your mind, you fantasized about what it would be like to rip them from his back, to crush thin skin and impossible formations in the palm of your hand and render him as flightless as yourself. Shoto chose to pretend he didn’t know what you were thinking about. “This is my responsibility. Gather your pack and have a medic waiting for when I return.” He paused, letting his temper flare with a narrow-eyed glance in your direction. “You shouldn’t have to rush, I intend to take my time.”

Yaoyorozu bit the inside of her cheek, but she didn’t protest. Rather, she nodded, bowing her head as she turned, following her footprints back into the tangled woods. As soon as she’d disappeared into the darkness, Shoto took the time to sigh, to glare properly the next time he bothered to face you. His bow fell to the ground, abandoned and forgotten. You weren’t particularly concerned. He had a dozen more waiting to be used on something helpless and disobedient.

“You humiliated me,” He started, his hand drifting to your injury, freeing his arrow before a gloved thumb drove itself into the open wound, his touch as agonizing as a hot iron rod against unprotected skin. You had to fight not to lash out, to condemn yourself to a fate worse than momentary discomfort. There was still a knife sheathed at his belt, and you could only be thankful he hadn’t thought to use it. “I trusted you to go without restraints, to go without guards, and the first thing you think to do is prove to my subjects that my lover would rather risk death than be with me. Tell me, does that sound like behavior I should reward?”

You didn’t answer. Your arm was going numb, equal parts due to the fracture and the chill, and you couldn’t tell him anything he wanted to hear. That’s what it came down to, in the end. How you could make Shoto happy, even if he claimed to be willing to return the favor.

He shook his head, pulling away from your wound and taking up your chin. His hold wasn’t tight, nor did he make an effort to force you into a submission more demeaning than your current surrender, but those small shows of grace were nullified by the feeling of your own warm blood beginning to stain your skin. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

You didn’t have to think. You barely had to open your mouth. As soon as your lips parted, the words were already falling from your tongue, a blunt, shallow river of things you knew you’d regret. Things Shoto would make you regret. “Eat shit and die. You can impale yourself on your own crown, for all I care.”

His frown barely wavered. There was a beat of silence, an idle evaluation of your current state, but his disdain was never vocalized. He didn’t bother to. He didn’t have to.

You didn’t see his hand move, not before the grip of his knife was making contact with the back of your head, your vision going black before pain had a chance to follow.

Your contempt for the Winter Court was the only thing that rivaled your loathing for Shoto.

It was a place of joyless, merciless conduct, of cruel smiles and stone painted with gore, although the colorless blood of fae rendered the violence a sightless affair. Two guards were flanked at your sides, but neither dared to look at you, staring straight ahead as they opened the massive oak doors of Shoto’s throne room. The quiet was heavy, tense, but you didn’t attempt to make conversation, not as the panels of wood slid away and a narrow carpet came into view, a rich navy to guide all newcomers to the elevated stage on the otherwise of the room. He could’ve easily come to you, sent a servant to alert him when you awoke or been waiting there himself, but he wanted a show. He wanted you to grovel at his feet, and he wanted his subjects to see you do it.

Oftentimes, you wished you’d been taken by a member of the Summer Court. You wished you’d never been taken at all, of course, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would like to exist in a land without ice and sleet and stares that are only barely concealed. You’d visited their valley once or twice with Shoto, and although they weren’t any less wicked than their cold-blooded counterparts, they hid their malicious intent under charms and spells and tricks, traps that kept their victims rooted out of delusion rather than fear. It’d be a deceptive fate, but compared to the reality of the Winter Court, it couldn’t be unpleasant. If Shoto could simply invoke your name when he craved control, you wouldn’t be favoring your right leg over your left as you dragged yourself down the well-tread pathway.

There were sneers from the stands as you passed by, harsh whispers of rumors and tales that were just untrue enough to burn at their tongues as they spoke. You tried not to pay them any mind, but it was difficult. Your latest ‘betrayal’, as Shoto had put it, would only fuel their distaste for their ruler’s mortal partner. Perhaps if you were something else, they’d be entranced. If you were an abnormality or a beast or something dangerous, you’d be able to do more than run and make noise and disobey rules they hadn’t thought not to follow. But, you were human, so you were boring. A feral mutt whose tricks had long-since grown old.

You came to a stop in front of Shoto’s throne, a massive structure of silver and velvet and ornate carvings of every woodland animal you could imagine. You didn’t attempt to meet his eyes, only dropping to one knee, assuming the position he’d force you into, if you didn’t fall into on your own. You didn’t speak, though, letting Shoto greet you with a tone so stoic, you had to wonder whether this was a punishment or an execution. “How are your injuries?”

“I’ll live, unfortunately,” You replied, under your breath, rolling your shoulder back, making an effort not to wince. You didn’t want to show weakness, not when he was already so far above you. “The healers say I’ll need a few days to recover fully. That won’t interfere with…” You trailed off, your eyes flickering around the courtroom. Searching for any sign of a looming threat. “That won’t interfere with what you have planned, will it?”

He huffed, a small pout pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he accepted the announcement without further argument, leaning back and letting his chin come to rest on a closed fist. With his free hand, he gestured for you to come closer, an indolent wave barely worth the energy it took to execute. Slowly, you pushed yourself to your feet, only pausing when Shoto tapped his thigh. Disappointment washed over you, but any shock was minimal. If he couldn’t have his revenge, then your shame would serve as a consolation prize.

You clung to your last scraps of dignity, keeping your expression stern and your posture rigid, but Shoto freed you of that with an arm around your waist, dragging you into his lap, your side soon flush against his chest and your back pressed against his armrest, your legs left to tangle with his. He was quick to deflate, to melt into you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, the affection intimate and sickeningly underserved. The tips of sharpened teeth brushed against your skin, but thankfully, abstained from taking root. The last thing you wanted was another wound to fret over. “Can’t you bring me the smallest relief?” He asked, chilled breath washing over your skin, earning a shudder. “An apology, words of remorse, a purpose, anything. I don’t want to be bitter with you, beloved. Any sign that you care for me is a sign I’ll take to heart.”

He sounded exhausted, exasperated. You attempted not to let his disposition faze you, keeping your gaze fixed on the furthest stone wall. “My words would bring you no comfort,” You muttered, more to reassure yourself than to convince him. “There’s nothing I can say to quell your anger. You saw what I did, and you know why I did it. An excuse would only frustrate you.”

You felt him grit his teeth, his hold around you tightening. His wings flickered before resuming their trained motionlessness. “You have no reason to despise me--”

“I have every reason.” You didn’t wait for him to finish, nor did you have any interest in letting him. This was a dance you’d practiced many times, a song you could identify from a single note. You would sing along, but you wouldn’t let Shoto act as if you’d never done so before. He didn’t deserve your patience. “I’m a prisoner here, Todoroki, I’m your prisoner. You provide for me, and I understand that you think you’re being kind, but no amount of luxury can make this place my home. I don’t belong here, I’m…” You were different. You were alien. You were lesser. “I’m not meant to be here. I’m not meant to be with you.”

Early on in your captivity, you’d convinced one of Shoto’s servants to smuggle an iron knife into your chambers, the weapon forged in the human world and stolen from a fae noble with questionable intentions. When Shoto next visited you, letting his guard down in favor of rambling on about his day and the ongoings of his court, you’d driven the dagger blindly into his chest over and over and over again, only stopping when one of his knights dragged you off of his limp body. You didn’t have to say it’d been useless. Cold Iron was effective on most creatures, but you’d need something much stronger to kill a fae as powerful as Shoto, whose veins took the shape of snowflakes and whose wrath bunt with the heat of glowing embers. The servant was killed by sunset and your knife was melted down into two nails, both of which were then driven into your heels as retribution. You hadn’t been able to walk for a month, but Shoto told you time and time again that he was being lenient, that was being merciful. You’d believed him. The fire in his eyes had nearly been enough to melt his frozen heart.

Compared to his current rage, his fury back then seemed like child’s play.

“A prisoner, you see yourself as a prisoner,” He spat, pointed talons biting into your hip, cutting through fabric and skin and drawing blood before he thought to stop. “I’ve never asked anything of you. I gave you a castle, beautiful clothes, a life befitting divinity, and you say you feel like a prisoner just because I urge you to tolerate me in return.” He paused, scoffing, letting out a breathy, humorless laugh before he went on. “If you’re a prisoner, you’re a rather coddled one. That’s my fault, isn’t it? How can I expect you to learn your place when I treat you like a lapdog?”

“That’s not what I meant,” You responded, hastily, avoiding his question. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m only trying to--”

“You’re trying to earn your discipline, apparently,” He warned, nearly snarling against your shoulder. His fingers found their way to your hair, taking you by the scalp and jerking you backward, just far enough to allow him to glare, to bare his teeth and growl. “I’ve kept you safe. I’ve let you live in leisure because I wanted to believe your pathetic human mind would let you be motivated by gratitude, rather than fear. I can see that allowing you to love me on your own terms isn’t an option, anymore.” He wretched you upward, forcing you to straighten your back, a pitiful whimper escaping from your lips before you could suppress it. “If you think you’re a prisoner, then I’d be more than happy to treat you like a prisoner. It’d be a shame not to give you what you’ve been begging for, wouldn’t it?”

You moved to argue, to apologize, to do whatever would sway Shoto’s resolve, but by the time you opened your mouth, he was already calling over his guards, metal gauntlets soon clamped around your forearm and your shoulder, ready to dispose of you at the slightest omen of their King’s will. Shoto only leaned back, watching as you lost your composure, as you panicked. He didn’t yell, nor did he lecture you further, but as always, his rage found a way to make itself known, if only in the grin that ghosted across his lips. Satisfied and decided. The smile of a man pushed to the edge and far too prepared to push back.

The smile a monster, finally ready to devour its prey.

“This might be a change for the better.” His tone was one of sterile contentment, a serenity that ran deeper than his voice could ever portray. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to shake him, again, not so easily.

You had a feeling he wouldn’t give you the chance to, again.

“You might finally come to see how loving I’ve been, when you’re stripped of my favor.”

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mana-burst · 7 years

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Dream-walker Journals- Dream-walking and Everfree

The broken horned mare stretches and hums as she dusts the shelves and straightens the books, the warm noonday sun shining throught he now cleaned and sparkling windows as the shop is put back in order. The feather duster swished as Mana swept the dust off to the side before she settled at the counter and opened the journal with a quiet hum as some ponies moved about the shop in search of something interesting. -Dear Journal,

The Deer I met were a great source of knowledge that I don't think I could've found in manehatten, and they taught me more about my gift that I could've expected. The shaman took me aside as they helped the sleep-stricken wake and adjust after being out for so long to ask me what I experienced as I slept, and it was clear from his reaction that it was surprising but not entirely confusing to the wise old buck.

Dream-walking as he called it was a gift that rarely showed itself among the herd or any other herds they knew of, I suspect it was a gift that showed itself in times of strife especially as they've no princess to guard their dreams as we do with Princess Luna. Dream-walkers as the shaman told me were those who found themselves roaming across the shadowy realms of the sleepers minds, often observers but at times of need they could interfere and come to the aid of those driven to the brink by their nightmares. Truly it made plenty of sense to me that those not under the watchful presence of the princess would develop their own ways to protect themselves from the darkness that lurks within the night.

For several days I remained with the herd and learned about their legends and myths on the realm of dreams and I shared my own experiences walking the dreams of manehatten before princess Luna returned from the moon. It was on the fifth night among them that I felt that stirring in my dreams once more like a siren song calling to me back north and I found myself waking in a cold sweat early one morning. I can't say that I was eager to leave as I packed my things and said farewell to the herd, and the shaman who taught me as I resided there gave me a pouch of incense and herbs before I set out on what I suspected would be a long journey into a darker place than I had been.

At the time I left I had no idea I'd be entering one of the most unmapped parts of equestria, but as the dark and twisted trees of Everfree replaced the wilds timber of the south lands I knew this would be another learning experience. Anypony that's paid attention to the stories knows of the dark and untamed nature of Everfree, a breeding ground of mystery and myth for miles across that could as easily consume those that entered it as turn them about before they made it a few hoofball fields.

In this dark place I felt eyes on me as I trotted along a little spring that whispered and cackled as if mocking me with every step I took. The branches grew warped and twisted like claws as I made my way into the growing gloom even as the sensation of being watched grew, unaware that it was more than just a sensation and that something cruel was tracking me from the moment I crossed the border into the forest. A break in the shadowed trees came swiftly as I stepped out of the treeline into a clearing like something from one of the old fairy-tales, blooming flowers and tall swaying grass.

At the center of the field bound in a mass of ancient vines and creeping moss was a broad figured creature shaped like a pony but seemingly grown from the stump of a vast tree like a natural statue. Yet I could feel a shiver down my spine as I stopped before the ring of flowers that encircled it and a deep unwavering sorrow seeming to radiate from the shape. Keeping my distance I set up my camp though I was unable to shake the feeling of being watched as I explored the clearing and it's odd plant growths.

A massive pumpkin patch caught my attention first, never had I seen pumpkins so big, big enough you could fit a foal inside sat beside a sweeping field of buttercups so delicious was their scent, like a ring the plants spread until they met a pond born of the cackling spring with a swath of lotus flowers swaying in the gentle current and lastly ringing the back side of the many plants were razor-thorned bushes keeping the wild creatures out of the field yet they didn't stop me, it was really quite curious.

I spent I don't know how many hours admiring and being confused by the strange plant life before the sun began it's way down and I settled in at my camp to light the fire. As darkness spread and the stars began to twinkle and I began to doze I felt the pull into the sleeping realm.

The warped forest loomed higher and darker, deeper like a choking hatred as I stirred on the other side and a cold rain began to soak my mane as the heavy sorrow grew more oppressive. The wavering silhouettes moved before me like a play on repeat as a stallion marched into the clearing towards a towering tree that swirled with ghost-lights, his axe swinging and clashing at the base before the tree fell. The wisps moved like a fury storm as the stallion cried out a scream that twisted into a gnarled roar before it fell silent and faded into dust all leading to the shades restoring and the scene replaying. As I watched I felt the tears coming but knew I had to figure the cause and with each twisted repeat I could slowly make out more of the sounds. "Our home..." they wisps said, "Belong to Everfree" I caught shortly after. With every repeat I knew the stallion was in sorrow and misery repeating this mistake again and again until I could finally make it all out. "You've felled our home, our sanctuary.. you came for our tree, and so we curse your flesh with it, you belong to Everfree."

And with a crackle of thunder I awoke, the rain starting in the waking world as I processed the dream as I sunk back into my tent and stared at the vine-bound statue. As the rain rapped against my tent I looked through the notes and lessons I learned from the shaman before it dawned on me journal.. The stallion was cursed by Fae, he felled their home and they cursed him in retaliation and if I were to wake him from his nightmare I'd have to stop that eternal repeat somehow.

"One who walks the dreams can interfere in only the most daring of circumstances, they must be bound in unfaltering sleep to break the seal between their dream-scape and another." The shaman had told me as he handed me the incense and herbs, and I realized as the thunder rattled me once again that it was an aid to help me enter a depth of sleep I normally could not reach. Scattering the incense into the campfire a deep foggy smoke began to fill the air and I felt my head growing heavy before I faded into a deep and restless sleep.

As the dream-scape spread for me once more I saw the scene playing out clearer now, the grizzled old lumberjack stallion looking proud and cocky as he marched into the clearing and gazed upon the towering silver-barked tree, the glowing ghost-lights quivered as he neared and the tree fell. It was like a nightmare as the fae gathered around the stallion, cursing him in tongues I still don't fully comprehend and I watched in horror as his flesh was warped and twisted, shaped by the fae with the timber he'd just felled into a moving figure of wood.

A fae of silver hue with eyes like diamonds stood before the tormented stallion, peering at him and his voice smooth like silk but sinister and vile that it sent chills up my spine. "You took our home and defiled our grove, for this crime we sentence you ever to watch over this place, spirit bound in flesh of timber for eternity." The fae cursed him, and the scene faded and began to replay again and I watched and I listened until the fae did speak once more before I stepped between the stallion and the fae... and for the first time I felt a dream's eyes fall upon me as if it were conscious, aware and his smile faded.

"You interfere where you do not belong mortal, this place is mine and he is my prisoner, begone least you join him and I twist you until nothing remains." I felt a chill as this ancient being of magic stood and threatened me until the soft pale light shone upon me again, both our vision gazing upwards as the fae stepped back slightly. "I ask you... let him free of this torment.. I can't beg you to free him from the curse, but let him wake.. let him find a place!" I stuttered as I stood my ground beneath the warming pale light, and the fae's face grew twisted with annoyance before he snorted, looking past me at the frozen face of the stallion.

"Everfree binds you with it's roots and it's limbs, for hundreds of years I have twisted and tormented your mind and now I release it.. but let this cursed body remind you of these centuries under my hoof, and be bound forever!" he snapped, eyes piercing back to me before the entire world grew dark and I felt myself snapping awake to the agonized cry as vines snapped and bark crackled. Crawling from my tent as the rain continued to soak the clearing I saw the statue-like figure stirring, a mane of grass and moss and vines shaking as he cried out, bark splitting as it moved for the first and eyes of glowing ethereal green piercing the early morning darkness. I stared as he lifted his legs and tore them away from the stump before he peered to me and in silence he stalked off into the dark forest beyond the clearing and that was the last I'd seen of him journal.-

The mare looked up, her head tilting before she smiled to a couple and their foal, taking the bits and bagging up the Daring Do books as the filly squeaked in delight. "Thank you, have a great day~! " she chimed as the customers left and she looked to the ones browsing the shelves, awaiting the next sale with a happy hum.

#manaburst #MLP Fan fiction #MLP OC #Dreamwalker

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