Sometime I wish the Seven Realms fandom was bigger because then I’d have more people (any people) to fangirl with. But other times I’m just like: MINE YOU NO TOUCH and I thank the book gods that nobody (as of yet) wants to fight me over Hanson Alister.
The Seven Realms is a must-read series. From the day I finished reading it I haven’t been able to get it out of my thoughts. I loved the series so much that some of the characters felt like close friends. Each one was amazingly developed. I will miss them and, because of that, know that I will eventually pick up these four books again.
(if you didn’t know six feet under by billie eilish is such a good song and that’s what I played on repeat while writing this)
ask : can you write about the reader getting kidnapped/tortured as their way of Percy getting to go to them and fight for them?
hi yes i’m here for all the mo'fuckin angst ever and am i good at writing it?
am I still gonna write it?
fuck yeah i am
to sum it up, if it’s shitty i’m so fucking sorry i’m really tryna get my shit together on this blog tbfh. anywho back to ur regularly scheduled programming by yours truly, nez !
warning : blood & torture scenes & swearing, fun for the whole family !!! (obviously wtf) (also might be triggering but that’s maybe idk how you guys are as people my dude)
Stringy strands of hair fell in front of eyes that were nearly swollen shut. Chest rising and falling quickly, you heard quick, rapid footsteps come from the hallway, but you didn’t know from where. Scooting back to the corner of the room, your pupils grew wide, trying to see in the pitch black room you were kept in.
A cry came from deep within your chest, turning raspy as it escaped your dry, cracked lips. The door swung open, letting in a bright, harsh light that made you shield your eyes. The door slammed against the wall, and you watched the figure come up to you. “Stop-” You croaked, a harsh cough following shortly.
Sending a thin spray of crimson blood onto the gray, cement floor in front of you, you covered your mouth. “Get up.” The man spat, grasping your arm and tugging you up. Stumbling slightly, he steadied you, before grasping your hands, and tying them up behind you.
“Why are you doing this to me?” You asked, managing to keep down a cough. He dug his short nails into your pale arm, tugging you forward viciously
“This isn’t for you. We need you here, to get your boyfriend here.” Shoving you through some doors, you fell forward, falling face first. Cursing, you spat out blood at the feet of your attacker.
“How-” Your attacker paused, a wiry smile on his translucent face. Grasping a chunk of your hair in his hands, he tugged your head back viciously, smiling down at your face which twisted in discomfort. “Disgusting.” He finished.
You smiled, teeth stained red with blood. “Only the best for you.” You remarked, and he laughed, pushing his blonde locks out of his face.
“We haven’t beat the sarcasm out of you yet-” His black boot collided with your ribs, and you let out a strangled gasp, falling back. Your side throbbed, ragged breaths making your chest rise and fall shallowly. “Have we?” He asked.
“Fuck you.” You coughed up more blood, shutting your eyes and curling up on the cold, white tiles in the room. Only one thing was on your mind.
“Wishing your boyfriend would come save you? So do I, sweetheart. He’ll be much more useful.” Opening your glassy, (e/c) eyes, you let out a forced laugh
You turned on your back, staring at the high ceiling, painted a royal blue. “You think he’s coming for me? We’re not together. He doesn’t love me.” You lied, hoping to save some time for Percy.
If they did this to you, and didn’t need you, what would they do to Percy?
“You’re a fucking liar-” A boot collided with your face, and you hissed in pain, turning over. Blood spilled from your nose, and your head swam, as you desperately tried keeping your eyes open. Hunger ached in your stomach, thoughts screamed in your mind, and bruises and injuries burned beneath your scarred, cut skin.
“Fuck-” You whimpered, sitting up, your head hanging. You tugged your hands forward, your wrists raw from the ropes. He grasped the rope, and pulled you up, holding your hands above your head.
“This is what we’re going to do, princess. Until you tell me where the sea bastard is, I’m going to beat the shit out of you. Got it?” He tied your hands up onto a hook, so you stood with your hands over your head. Head throbbing, you let it fall, staring at your blistered, scarred feet.
“You’re smoking a pack of dicks if you think I’m going to tell you where he is.” Your eyes scanned the table of knives, metal bats, and all sorts of weapons you didn’t know existed.
“Put your head up-” Cold metal pressed against your side, and you screamed, as electricity flowed through you. Head up, you glared at the blonde in front of you. “Pay attention. Where is Percy Jackson?” He asked, his fingers trailing across the table of weapons.
“I don’t know..” You muttered, hoping Percy was as far away from this place as possible. He grasped the metal bat, and swung, cracking at least one of your ribs. You choked on your shock, and he grasped your hair again, forcing you to face him. You looked into cold, dead deep brown eyes.
“Speak up.” He growled, pushing your head away. Wanting to curl up in pain, you tugged down on the ropes viciously.
“I don’t know.” You spat, closing your eyes and hissing at the pain. If someone didn’t help, you knew you were going to die there. Blinking away tears, you watched as he went to swing again.
Your body jerked on impact, the hook above you tilting slightly, as the bat collided with your stomach, black and blue spreading quickly underneath your ripped and tattered clothes. Hot, crimson blood escaped your lips, and your head hung.
“Percy-” You croaked, your vision becoming blurry. Laughing, the blonde pulled your head up again, planting a kiss on your cheek.
“You’re weak. Calling out for someone you claimed didn’t love you anymore.” He smiled at you, perfect teeth glimmering in he dimly lit torture room. A sharp pain spread against your side, and you gasped, as you looked down.
A knife handle stuck out of your side, as blood pooled around it. “Too bad there won’t be much of you to take back home-” He tugged the knife out, and you watched the blood spill from your wound.
A strangled gasp came from behind you two, and you jerked your head up, watching Riptide being shoved through the man who brought you to the room.
He walked in, a blood thirsty look in his eyes. He froze, and the blonde man smiled, holding the knife directly over your stomach. “Perseus Jackson, how lovely it is to have you here with us today.” He smiled. Percy tensed, his sea green eyes darkening, his knuckles growing white from gripping his sword tightly.
“Let her go.” Percy growled, and your eyes widened. Blood spilled from your nose and side, and you felt yourself dying slowly.
“Percy no-” You gasped and screamed, as the man drove the knife into your stomach six times, letting the wounds spill, white tiles now stained red.
“Y/N!” Percy shouted, and your eyelids felt heavy, but you knew if they closed, you were gone for good.
“I’m so sorry-” You croaked, blood spilling from your lips once more.
“Now that she’s a goner, I can have you.” The man smiled, and Percy looked from you, to the man. Percy charged, taking the guy off guard, as he was used to torturing to get what he wanted. Riptide was sent through the mans chest, and out through his back, and Percy let the man explode into gold dust, Riptide clattering to the floor as he rushed after you.
“Y/N, Y/N. Stay with me, oh gods-” Percy untied your hands, and you slumped into his arms, your eyes threatening to close and take your life away. You looked into sea green eyes, filled with so much worry and fear. Heart slamming against your slightly shattered ribcage, you took a jagged breath.
Percy picked you up bridal style, reaching down and picking up Riptide on his way out. His hand found its way to your stringy, (h/c) hair, and Percy looked down at you, heart aching. Clutching his Camp Half Blood t-shirt in your fists, you sank into the warmth of your boyfriend, what might be the last time you get to feel him.
“SOLACE!!” Percy shouted as he kicked the doors to outside open. You gasped in the fresh air, watching the moonlight for the first time in three weeks. Your stomach ached, and Percy laid you down on the ground. Familiar blonde hair came into your view.
“Holy shit.” You heard, and you chuckled.
“Am I in great condition, Doc?” You laughed, before coughing up more blood. Percy clutched his hand in your own.
“Y/N, how do you manage to always tell a joke?” Nico asked, eyes flicking away from your beat up body. You shrugged, your eyelids feeling heavy again. Will pressed his hands to your stomach, sunlight pouring through his fingers as he desperately tried to heal you.
But, you felt your life slipping away, slowly, surely. A sharp breath escaped your lips, and you squeezed Percy’s hand.
“I love you, and I’m sorry.” You croaked, looking up into those beautiful, sea green eyes you fell for long ago. Percy’s eyes widened in fear, as he looked from you, to Nico, who had a blank stare on his face.
“No. No, Y/N- Solace-” Percy frantically looked at Will, who was looking painfully at your wound, trying to work quickly.
“I’m trying!” Will cried, but it was no use.
“Thank you guys.” You smiled, teeth stained red with blood, and Percy watched you, in horror, as you closed you eyes.
“Y/N.” Percy spoke, as your hand went limp in his own. Both Percy and Will looked up at Nico, in shock, horror, and worry. Percy’s heart rammed against his ribcage, praying silently to all the gods that Nico didn’t tell him you passed away.
It should have been simple. There’d only been five vampires left alive.
Faint shouts of your name echoed the walls of the abandoned house the remaining vampires corrupted after infiltrating the Men of Letters’ bunker, killing a couple of its members. The sound was muffled, bubbly; like you were under water. Deep down.
Your eyes fluttered with the sensation of blood leaving your neck in big gulps. A trail leaking down your neck of what the vampire had missed, soaked into your clothes. The heat of a match striking against your spine, made you shiver. Your body was panicked, already feeling the blood loss affecting your body. You twitched in the vampire’s hold, as his teeth tore into at your neck, but there was no room to move. Arms pinned, tightly wedged between the corner of a wall and a man’s body, but there was certainly no man inside.
“So delicious.” The words vibrated between your neck, his fangs still intact in your neck. “If I could just resist for long enough, I’d save you for later.”
Panicked and at a loss for any other option, you head-butted the vampire, causing his fangs to rip from your skin briefly, tearing the holes further down your neck before disconnecting. You groaned, resisting the urge to hold your neck. Instead, you grabbed your machete from the floor, wielding it at the vampire.
“Choose love, she thought bitterly. That joke has been played on every Gray Wolf queen since Hanalea. Love, she thought,with a rush of understanding. You love these mountains. You love this town, with its crooked streets and stone staircases. You love the people in this room–most of the time, anyway. It would not fill the chasm in her heart. But it was something.”
The rusted chains of prison moons Are shattered by the sun. I walk a road, horizons change The tournament’s begun. The purple piper plays his tune, The choir softly sing; Three lullabies in an ancient tongue, For the court of the crimson king.
The keeper of the city keys Put shutters on the dreams. I wait outside the pilgrim’s door With insufficient schemes. The black queen chants the funeral march, The cracked brass bells will ring; To summon back the fire witch To the court of the crimson king.
The gardener plants an evergreen Whilst trampling on a flower. I chase the wind of a prism ship To taste the sweet and sour. The pattern juggler lifts his hand; The orchestra begin. As slowly turns the grinding wheel In the court of the crimson king.
On soft gray mornings widows cry The wise men share a joke; I run to grasp divining signs To satisfy the hoax. The yellow jester does not play But gentle pulls the strings And smiles as the puppets dance In the court of the crimson king.