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literary-motif · 3 months

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Black Daffodils

Zaros Atha'lin x Reader

You're poisoned. Thankfully, Zaros knows his way around plants.

“You cannot be serious,” you said, looking at Zaros as if he had just proposed burning down the library.

The two of you were taking a stroll by the garden, having just finished eating dinner together. Zaros had taken the opportunity of the meeting to fly into one of his rambles, explaining his grand visions and plans for the future if he were to succeed in the trials and ascend to the throne. It had been straining to keep your composure and smile politely at him to keep up appearances, especially since he had put it into his head to tease you relentlessly and with such vigor that you were sure ‘mocking’ would be a more appropriate term.

Zaros raised an eyebrow, shooting a sidelong glance at you. “Yes, sure. You think just because something has been a certain way for centuries that it should not be changed — it gave you a position of power, after all. It suited you to keep the common people groveling at your feet like the spoiled brat you are—”

Your laugh made him pause. It was not the usual incredulous amusement coming from you as he told a truth you did not want to believe, this was real, genuine amusement, laced with a pitying heaviness that made him feel as if you had found a chink in his armor.

“And here I thought you were smart beyond your botany,” you said, shaking your head, “you’re so naive.”

Zaros exhaled incredulously. “Me?” he asked, disbelieving, “really?”

“You are, with your values and ideas and utopias,” you said, holding his gaze to convey how serious you were, “they are all great, honestly. I’m happy for you if you know what to believe in and what to fight for, but it’s all theory. What do you think will happen if you take the throne and change the very foundation our nation is built on overnight, dismantling the societal classes, tearing apart the system and the political principles we govern by?”

“How rich. So we should just keep the status quo because it suits you? That’s not—!”

“Shut up for a moment, Zaros,” you snapped, taking hold of his arm to halt his steps, “Do you really think the throne gives you power? You need to play the system, in it rather than against it, and twist it out of shape enough to incorporate your ideas, but never break it. Do you honestly believe the entire nation would not revolt against you the moment you start dismantling our society according to your wishes? The nobility hates you already, you’re right about that. Do you think you can rule without them? Alone?”

“I rule for the people the nobility has forgotten about and never even looked at in the first place,” Zaros answered coldly, “I’m not alone.”

You chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that, but remember that people hate sudden changes. It will only be a matter of time until your policy of revolution starts annoying them and then, you need strong allies to appease the masses and back up your right to rule. If you discard the entire nobility as self-righteous snobs, you’ll be alone against the world.” You started walking again, leaving Zaros to follow with furrowed brows. “And you know how fast solitude kills in our lives.”

Zaros was deep in contemplation, looking through the stone arches of the courtyard to view the garden. He stared at the nobles strolling through it in the darkness of the evening as if they held the ultimate truth and shook his head, meeting your gaze briefly in the dim light coming from the palace wall.

“I think you’re wrong,” he said, smiling at you so disingenuously that it made your mouth twist in distaste. You had hit a nerve. It was evident from how he turned his gaze to look straight ahead, picking up the pace to walk briskly across the paved part of the courtyard adjoining the garden. “I would reform the system for the people it systematically oppresses. I— I don’t need the nobility to back me up if I have the favor of the many!”

The conviction in his tone was almost comical. It felt good finally being able to get under his skin. It was your time to tease him and, adjusting your pace to follow closely behind him, you smirked to yourself, wondering which buttons to push to get Zaros to snap. “Leader of the masses, oh popular one?” you baited.

Zaros growled, “Mocking me, are you? Well, not everyone had the privilege to be born into the spotlight. We common mortals need to earn favor and respect, and I intend to do just that as I topple the injustice in our world!”

You hummed in acknowledgement of his words as if they were a mildly interesting expression of an idea you had already discarded. “You would have a revolt on your hands as fast as—”

“As fast as what?” Zaros asked challengingly as you cut off, “Have you run out of similes?” There was no quick, angry reply as he expected, only silence. He could no longer hear your footsteps following behind him, so he turned, puzzled.

In the dim light, he could see you leaning against the stonewall separating the courtyard from the garden, your eyebrows furrowed and breaths labored. You were pale, one hand resting against your chest as if you had difficulty breathing, the other placed against the stone to hold yourself upright.

“What is it?” Zaros asked in confusion.

“I—” you began, but could only gasp as your knees buckled. Your hand roamed across the stone, trying to find purchase as you crumbled to the ground. Zaros rushed forward in an instant, catching you in his arms.

“Help!” he yelled, causing the nobles strolling through the garden to turn their head at his panicked cry. “Someone get the chief curer, hurry!” his eyes were wide with worry, searching your face hastily for any indication of what was happening to you.

Some of the nobles had gathered around the two of you, gasps and murmurs flying through the crowd at seeing you slumped against the wall with half-lidded, delirious eyes and a wheezing breath. Zaros paid them no mind, focused entirely on you.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, cupping your cheeks with unsteady hands, “Hey, look at me. I’m right here.”

You mumbled something unintelligible that sounded somewhat like his name.

Tilting your head to the side slightly, Zaros saw a faint discoloration on your cheek, spread across it in the form of a tree branch. “I—” he breathed, his brain taking a moment to connect what he saw to a poison he had been forced to study. “I know,” he whispered in a sudden epiphany, tearing his gaze away from you to look towards the garden. “A moment, I’ll be right back, my heart, only a moment,” he rushed out, dropping his hands from your face and darting into the garden, ignoring your muffled whimper of protest.

When he returned, the chief curer had just kneeled next to you, starting his examination. “Move!” Zaros said briskly to the nobles barring you from him and pushed through the crowd of onlookers. Ignoring the curer, he tilted your head towards him, placing a few green petals in your mouth. “Don’t swallow them,” he instructed gently, leaving a hand on your cheek as the other found yours, squeezing comfortingly, “These petals are a natural remedy for various types of poison. You should be better in a moment.”

“What is the reason for this commotion?” Queen Roena’s clear, sharp voice cut through the murmuring crowd, silencing them in an instant. The curer sprang up to bow and explained hastily that he could not yet tell.

Zaros did not leave your side, helping you sit up properly once the antidote allowed you to move again and holding out a handkerchief for you to dispose of the petals. “Help me up,” you whispered to him after regaining your breath, and Zaros obliged, keeping his arm firmly around your waist to hold you upright.

“It will take some time for you to recover completely,” he said quietly, putting more of your weight on him, “You’ll likely be weak for a day or two, but no longer than that.” You groaned in reply.

“What happened?” Queen Roena asked, looking at the two of you with confusion and worry. Her gaze lingered on you, silently checking you over.

You cleared your throat. “Well, your Eminence, that’s not easy to say. You see, one moment I was engaged in a most pleasant debate with my— my acquaintance here, and the next I found myself on the ground, out of breath and unable to move.”

“They were poisoned, your Eminence,” Zaros said, but before he could add anything, the chief curer interrupted him.

“And how would you know that?” he asked, distaste evident in his tone.

“I have studied the poison that evokes exactly these symptoms,” Zaros said to him before turning his gaze back to the Queen, who was looking at him intently. “That is why I knew which antidote to search for in the garden.”

“How very convenient,” the curer observed and a tide of new whispering erupted from the crowd. Zaros could feel his blood starting to boil at the suspicion turned on him.

“Zaros,” you said breathlessly, closing your eyes briefly to stop the world from spinning around you. “I need to lay down. Walk me to my room?”

“Of course.”

“Your Eminence, is that wise?” the chief curer’s voice was faintly audible to you, moving away from the crowd with Zaros by your side. “What if he's only waiting to be alone with them to finish what he started, to eliminate his contestant for—” Zaros huffed beside you, continuing to lead you away.

No matter how much he insisted that he did not care about what those around him thought of him, you could see beyond his carefully constructed mask and had always noticed how much it bothered him. Although he never acted on it, choosing instead to remain passive and seemingly nonchalant at their words, the epitome of calm collectedness. Deep down, you had seen it gnawing at his heart, and it did still, evident in the hurt shining in his eyes.

“This one,” you nodded toward a wooden door to your right, leading to your chambers. “Right, thank you. I’ve got it from here. I’ll just—” You twisted out of Zaros’ arms, bracing yourself against the wall to keep from falling. You underestimated your strength, however, and would have collapsed to the ground if Zaros had not caught you again.

He chuckled hollowly but without malice, as he adjusted his grip and led you into your room. “Yes, I can see how well you’ve got it,” he said, setting you down on the bed, “Stubborn like always. What is it with you and thinking you’re above such feeble things as being helped? A side effect of your upbringing, I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, leaning back on the pillows with a groan and closing your eyes. The feeling of a hand on your forehead made them snap open again. Zaros was looking at you with an unreadable expression, perched on the side of your bed. “Like what you see?” you murmured, trying to crack his serious demeanor. He did not smile, mouth twisting into a tight line.

“Here,” he helped you sit up slowly, handing you a glass of water. “Drink, it helps.”

“Oh, does it?” you teased, taking small sips, “Did you poison that too to get rid of me and start your top-down revolution?”

His reaction was immediate. “Seriously?” he raised his voice in a near scream that made you jump, “What, you think I’d kill you for my own gain? You think I’d go over your dead body to implement my ideas?” Zaros leaped to his feet, looking down at you with rage and betrayal shining in his eyes. “You’re just as bad as everyone else!”

“Sit down, Zaros,” you said tiredly, taking hold of his arm and tugging him towards the bed. “I’m only teasing.” Your eyelids were starting to drop of their own accord, exhaustion finally overtaking you.

A part of you was afraid to rest, considering what had happened. You were poisoned, and although the realization had not entirely set in yet, the thought of laying asleep, defenseless against the poisoner, made you shudder.

“I know you’d never—” you said, holding onto Zaros’ hand as he sat on the bed again. He had a frown on his face and you could tell he was biting back a sarcastic remark or sharp jab of some kind. “I know you’d never hurt me,” you finished, eyes drifting shut with a content sigh at having him near you.

Despite your differences, you knew you could trust Zaros. He wore his ideals on his sleeve, and you had been acquainted long enough to get a feeling for the sort of person he was.

Looking at your entwined fingers, he swallowed thickly, the frown on his face replaced with a soft expression as his gaze drifted over your sleeping face. He reached up his free hand to brush tenderly through your hair, contemplating how improper it would be to lay down beside you and keep you safe.

#sakuverse #zsakuva zaros #zsakuva #zaros atha’lin #yes I looked up his surname #zaros x reader #zaros atha’lin x reader

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