Temple of Gold - Yan!Zhongli x Priestess!Reader x Yan!Osial
This is part of the “Spoil of War” series collection. You can find the masterlist for this series hereand the first chapter here.
Notes: I am so sorry for taking this long to update, but here it is at last!! I hope you all enjoy it. And BTW… WE’VE REACHED 500 FOLLOWERS! I am honestly so grateful to each one of you, and I’ll be planning some way to celebrate! My heart is full of love and gratitude TuT <3 <3
Credits:@violeteyesofevergarden for letting me vent ideas to her, honestly, you have been such a crucial part of this series and I am so grateful for your help TUT!
Warnings:General dark and yandere themes, isolation, nightmares and manipulation.No beta, we die like Rex Lapis.
“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.” ― Oscar Wilde.
The tempest that lashed the walls of Guizhong’s Shrine did not seem to faze the Overlord of the Vortex, the distinguished lines of his face remained indifferent to the touch of the icy water. Everything about him gave the impression that he was used to the world subjugating to his will. His tall figure melted into the darkness around him, as if it belonged to him and obeyed his commands.
You remain immobile to his relentless advance, your feet nailed to the ground and your arms protecting your body. The icy wind turned the raindrops into razors that attacked you mercilessly, but your eyes remained defiant. You were afraid to give in to a monster like him, devoid of all gentleness and the very picture of everything that stood against your principles. You close your eyes, trying to compose yourself as you feel his lips nearing your neck. It’s then that you feel a strange warmth surround your silhouette, and you breathe in a familiar scent.
By the time you open your eyes, a soft, gentle breeze sways the beautiful blooming glaze lilies, all in ghostly silence. A chain of unbridled musings lashes at your mind as you wake from yet another trance. The hours you had dedicated to mourning had been transformed into torments by Osial, who in dreams taunted your devotion with strange visions of sin. You wanted to lock them up, prevent them from appearing in your thoughts again. Wrap them in shrouds and deliver them to the river if need be, let the waters drown them for all eternity.
When you look down, you see nothing but the sea below you. Your feet barely skim the mountain as the only thing stopping your fall is a black and gold-infused arm that imprisons your body in a strong and devoted grip. You feel the air come out of your lungs in shock, and without thinking you cling desperately to the Lord of Geo’s arm, tears streaming down your cheeks as he takes a few steps back pulling you close to him, and away from the sea. Your knees shake, unable to support your weight any longer, and your arms hang delicately as you slowly lose your senses, fainting a mere seconds later.
One step ahead and he would have been too late.
Dark amber glowed in his eyes as he holds you close, fury turning his blood into boiling liquid gold. He rests his knees on the ground with you still in his arms and as he feels your soft hair on his cheek, he turns his face towards your beautiful sleeping form and, unable to restrain himself, buries his nose in the crook of your neck, taking long breaths to regain his composure, allowing your sweet scent to dull his senses.
The leaves rustled under your feet as you silently followed behind the God of Contracts. Shame and sadness flooded your thoughts and kept you mute as your eyes wandered through the beautiful temple Morax had built as a parting gift to his dearest of friends. A place to honor her legacy, to mourn her and your sisters, to keep you safe, as he had promised Guizhong.
Morax’s kindness was enormous, and you felt unworthy of it.
“May I assume you have made up your mind, then?” he says, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.
“I have, your grace.”
“The tenets you must follow are to remain the same” he adds, tilting his face to look at you, “Are you aware of what said choice entails?”
“I wish to remain a Dust Priestess.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
To that, you raise your gaze, conflict swirling in the deep color of your eyes. Morax’s face remains calm, but his pupils dilate slightly at the sight of your doubt.
You belonged here in this pure world, to which he, a god of battle and blood, was but an intruder … and to which he entered nonetheless, incapable of stopping the part of him that you unknowingly lured in with your warmth. You were the very image of loneliness and fragility as Morax stood in front of you.
You wonder if Guizhong awaited you in the afterlife along with the rest of your sisters… Could that promise be enough to make you feel less of a lost soul whose title no longer served any purpose? Could it make the pain more bearable?
Morax can see that the past, filled with sun and laughter, seemed to torment you. Back then, you were nothing but a naive, sweet girl who had never seen a battle, nor heard a dying man’s plea. A girl whose head was full of nothing but songs and riddles. War had torn apart that child. The gleam of wonder and curiosity that brought light to your eyes was long gone. In its place, however, sorrow reigned exquisitely. Had you ever looked more beautiful and dignified than you did now?
As much as he missed seeing you smile, grief turned ethereal in that splendid face of yours. Your voice no longer held the sweet ring of spring, but the calm, alluring sound of winter’s wind. Those sad songs you used to sing for him would sound even more beautiful now that you understood pain.
An invisible force impelled him with all the might of unsated desire to raise his hand, to hold that beautiful face of yours between his fingertips and bring you comfort. The Lord of Geo restrains himself, however, as he awaits your answer.
Your lips tremble in doubt as you mutter “… I am, your grace”.
With that, you vow to stay hidden behind these walls, away from the sea and every danger it imposes. You are to remain unwed, untouched, and unyielding to every sin that tempts you. With that, the remaining Dust Priestess vows to live a solitary life in this temple of gold, to mourn the loss of her goddess and sisters until her last breath. One step outside and you could no longer be a Dust Priestess.
“Then I am to leave you now, as this temple does not belong to me,” he says in a solemn tone, lowering his gaze and slowly turning away from you. Part of you wants to stop him, and ask him if he shall visit you from time to time, the thought of being utterly alone starting to sink in as the sounds of his steps echoed in the empty, lonely hall.
“Your grace?” you call, meekly.
He tilts his head slightly, not looking at you but indicating he is listening.
“I… wanted to thank you, for saving me.”
Your eyes linger in his form as the heavy stone gate starts to close, a small pool of tears clouding your sight. He doesn’t answer, but nods his head before stepping outside the entrance of gold and stone.
Once outside, the Lord of Geo stares silently at the sky, taking a moment to mourn his friend.
“I’m keeping my promise, Guizhong. Your daughter has a temple of gold to keep her safe, and I shall not interfere… However, leaving the temple is her renouncing you… and welcoming me.”
Morax then lowers his gaze in contempt, facing the raging sea that howls at him.
“So do your worst, Osial,” he says, a sinister shadow forming in his eyes, “Lure her out if you must.”
▣characters:LIYUE’S+KHAENRI’AH’S+SNEZHNAYA’SFINEST x gn reader
⦿ chongyun, dainsleif, tartaglia, xiao, xingqiu, and zhongli
▣ trigger warning:yandere content, dark content, heavy stalking, obsessive mindsets, delusional mindsets, mentions of breaking and entering, implied physical abuse, abuse of power, mentions kidnapping/imprisonment, infantilism, dumbification, mentions of explicit masturbation, male ejaculation, sexual fantasies, mentions of non-con, explicitly sexual content.
Maiden of Dust Part I | Yan Zhongli x Priestess!Reader
Content warning: Mild Yandere Content.
Summary:You are a Priestess to the late Goddess of Dust Guizhong, and as the sole survivor of your kind, you are devoted to her even after her tragic demise. This is part of the Spoil of War series. You may find its masterpost here. This is part one of the two small drabbles that will comprise “Maiden of Dusk”. Ask box is open!
How different would have things been had he found you first was a thought that often poisoned his mind, sending all over his being a hollowness, a strain that unyieldingly wrung his sanity. His late friend used to claim that mortals were creatures bound to change, yet here you were. Time for you was suspended as if nothing was wanted, needed, or exhausted. All for her.
Even saying her name felt as if he was breathing life back into her, and envy was too much of a vulgar state of mind for a god to be in.
“Many of my sisters were much better at this, I’m afraid” your voice shakes him out of his contemplations “We used to gift these to our people as amulets. Fei Hong was the most skilled, no detail ever escaped her mastery, and people would often fight over her works… Before the war, I had one of my own.”
Some of her people still cling to their own wooden figurines, as Morax could recall. The Maidens of Dust were carved in her likeness and gave them comfort in the absence of their beloved goddess. “Most people place them at the entrance of their homes, to ward off evil. But I used to place mine on the window above my bed. Back when I was an apprentice, I believed that Lady Guizhong protected me from having bad dreams. She was rather amused when I told her that.”
He listens quietly, taking in every sentence that leaves your lips like a drunkard sips wine. But the more he listened, the more bitter each sip got. A strange melancholy weighted over you, he could see a gentle darkness forming in your gaze for quite some time now. Almost as if the idea of drowning in your own sorrow was not completely unwelcomed by you. It was clear to him that your devotion menaced to erode you, and that it would bleed him into darker abysses soon enough.
An internal burning, almost lacerating, pricked him as he realized that your own seclusion had not made him immune to his most irrational of sentiments.
Morax’s gaze directs at the Maiden of Dust with disdain. Although a beautiful piece, it has small errors sprinkled here and there. His late friend enjoyed the arts, and each of her priestesses had mastery over one of them. Painting was not your preferred art form.
You used to sing, and when you did, not one of your sisters could ever hope to match you, just as no candlelight could ever rival the rising sun.
