GRASSLAND ROMANCE
SUMMARY the strongest tribal chieftain sets the stage to claim his most priceless reward
WARNINGS prisoner of war!reader, slave!reader, tribal chief!sylus, first time, fight-to-death-trope, concubine!reader, oral sex, breeding, mentions of lactating, size kink, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of misogyny, bartering, winning her favor trope, loosely based on the new sylus myth card, mdni, 18+
DAWN SAYS it's daddy sylus's time hehehe second one down, 2 more to go !! sylus is my ult bias and I definitely wanted to go for more of a khal drogo x daenaerys vibe when I started this out, so keep an eye out for bit of dark content discussed here... that being said, will be cross-posting this to a03 soon so stay tuned! <3
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ZAYNE ⊱ XAVIER ⊱ RAFAYEL
The grasslands were not kind to those unfamiliar with its ways.
As a little girl, your grandmother would tell you stories of the fearless warriors traversing these bare lands in search of resources to plunder, steal and conquer. It instilled a sense of fear in you; a knowing instinct to never step out of line less you wanted to suffer the consequences of losing everything you loved.
The day you met Sylus was the day your short life came to its meaningless end.
Taken from your homelands to his tribe, you were relegated to cleaning tasks and cooking; trying to keep your head down and eyes off of you less you wanted to suffer fatal repercussions.
Your days living in sweet bliss were over; your childhood and girlhood gone in one fell swoop.
And yet, despite your best efforts to go undetected, you wound up catching the eye of the fearsome chieftain. His calls for you to his yurt could not be ignored.
You fully expected him to take advantage of your vulnerable state, using his position to conquer what remained of your dignity and hope.
But, Sylus proved to be a different man behind his ruthless reputation.
A fan of music and wildland games, he often asked you to keep him company for the day, and when the nights got too cold, you were ushered into his private space, allowed to warm yourself with his brazier.
The scent of moist rose and grapevine trimmings filled the air as you lounged right in Sylus’s arms, enjoying the warmth of his presence and the fire glowing brightly while snow and sleet raged outside of his yurt.
The fearless tribal chieftain was a relaxed man tonight, savoring the presence of his favorite concubine right in his lap. His large hands stroked your hair, fingers running through your locks. The robes he dressed you in were heavy yet comfortable, providing you shelter from the cold; a stark difference from the slave rags you were forced to wear during your earlier encampment.
“What is on your mind, beloved?”
Beloved. Despite what everyone said or thought about you, Sylus saw you in a different light. A tender and cherished one.
You turned your head to gaze at him, a softness you reserved solely for him shining from your eyes.
“I was lost in my thoughts; thinking back to the time when I first got here.”
A dark look flitted across his face, and he fixed you with a prodding look.
“I know what happened was not ideal for you, beloved. But, you are safe now. I will not let anyone in this camp harm you.”
His promise was as good as gold in this world. Sylus was not someone who would mince words or give you false hope. Despite his stature as one of the most fearsome conquerors of this land, he was a man of integrity and word.
And yet… you couldn’t help the sadness eclipsing your features.
The ceremonial choosing of his bride was coming up soon, and from the lines of women prepared for him, you paled in comparison. These women were trained from birth to please him, cook for him, and be the bearer of his children. They were thought in the grassland ways, something you were not familiar with.
The women chosen for him did not stick out like a sore thumb, nor were they foreigners of this land.
Each of them were meticulously handpicked to appeal to his tastes and desires; where you fit in, you had no clue.
It wasn’t as if you were his tribe’s de facto pick. You were sure you weren’t on any of the elder’s lists, your fate relegated to being his concubine for life.
As if he could read your mind, Sylus tilted your face up to look him in the eyes.
“Beloved, you are the only one for me. There is no one else in these lands I would rather spend my days with.”
You wanted to ask him why; what could possess a man like him to love a lowly woman like you?
But, you enjoyed his caresses on your cheeks and jaw; snuggled closer to him as the wind tore through the night, safe and secure right in his arms.
The next morning, you were pulled aside by one of the village elders, Enkh, as he looked you up and down.
“My son needs a new wife after his old one died in childbirth,” scrutinizing you from head to toe, he fixed his beady gaze on you like a dishwasher studying a piece of vermin on a brass plate. “And you will do.”
The idea of being married to Enkh’s son, known as the most ruthless and cruel man in the entire tribe, filled you with unadulterated fear. You had no say in your fate, and spent the entire day wondering how to tell Sylus—the chieftain himself—of your dilemma.
But, you didn’t have to open your mouth and divulge the truth.
Sylus already knew.
He called you out to his tent, where some men who were sparring upped and left the second you arrived. In your hands, you held a pouch, given to you by Enkh’s wife before you left their yurt.
A symbol of choice for a woman about to be married, you were given explicit instructions to hand it to his son after his sparring win tomorrow. It was tradition for the winner to receive a wife as compensation, and from the thunderous look on Sylus’s face, you could tell he was not at all pleased about this latest development.
“They claimed you, just like that? Without my agreement?”
Despite not being his official concubine, everyone in the tribe knew of your position with the chieftain. You were virtually untouchable, and only higher up families like Enkh’s, could make the play for one of his concubine’s hands.
This displeased your lover, who took it as an affront to his rule.
But, he didn’t react the way you expected him to, with violence and malice as the forefront of his actions.
Sylus led you to the heart of his yurt, where thick layers of felt and wool provided insulation from the chill. Dressed in traditional Bökh gear, he was preparing for the ceremonial sparring to begin when he heard word of your impending nuptials to Enkh’s son. He dragged you down to his side, letting you rest on the rugs and pillows surrounding the area before he shared what was on his mind.
“Do you want to marry into that family, Y/N?”
Instinctively, you shook your head. “No, Sylus.”
He nodded, pleased at your swift rebuke. “I am going to be honest with you—the only way we can circumvent both of our fates to marry different people is for me to participate in the fights myself.”
You gasped, wide-eyed at the revelation. “But, it’s unheard of. You are the chieftain!”
Rough fingers touched your face, caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you.
“I know, my beloved. But, think about the alternative. I do not want to lose you.”
A grin stole across his handsome features, and he shot back: “If I lost, I’d be stuck here forever—in this limbo of never having you… but then again, could I really lose?”
Unperturbed by his musings, you raised the stakes by straddling his lap, glaring down at him. In this position, he had to hear you out; he had to allow logic to take hold of his wilful mind.
“Sylus, the rules of the game means that you have to steal the gem from your other opponent and then you can stake your claim. Are you sure you want to do this? You cannot back out once the games have started.”
The Grassland Festival, or the most important festivity for Sylus’s tribe that was happening in a few hours, was in tandem with the fighting ring for men to win the hands of their future wives.
His red eyes, which shone like a grassland sunset, appraised your form astride his lap; soft and sure.
“My love, you severely underestimate my devotion to you.”
Turning your fates around, he flipped you back onto the soft pillows and rugs, a look of fond playfulness in those jewel-toned eyes.
“All I have to do is fight, yes? And I have never lost a fight.”
His soft touch tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “You are the prize I must win, my love. I will do everything I can to make sure we stay together.”
Filled with happiness and the surety of his tone, you put your faith in what came next.
Long and nimble fingers snuck to your waist pockets, where he retrieved the pouch given to you by Enkh’s family.
“Hey—!”
You tried to reach back for it, but he held it from you, a smirk playing on his defined lips.
“Is this what you are going to give the boy?”
Warmth splashed across your cheeks as you tried to glare him down.
“Despite what you may think, you do not own every aspect of me, Sylus. I reserve the need to keep some secrets to myself.”
He hummed, clearly not believing you. “And yet, you spoke of the sincerity of our feelings. Isn’t this me being honest, little dove?”
You sputtered, tripping over your refutes, and he rolled his eyes.
“Alright, love. Let me make it simple—”
He lifted you closer to him, letting you fall over his lap. The sudden proximity filled your senses purely with him; igniting sparks of heat across your entire body.
“If someone were to hand the champion a pouch, should he take it?”
He was teasing you, and it was clear he wasn’t planning to let up anytime soon.
You huffed, trying to swipe it again. But, he was nimbler than you, yanking the pouch away from your outstretched hand.
Sighing, you tried to pull him up, grumbling when you barely made him move an inch.
“Have you been training more?” You grumbled, eyeing his broad shoulders; the muscles stretching across his tanned skin.
“Perhaps. Although as much as I have been honing my skills, I do still need someone to look out for me.”
His smirk threatened to affect your entire composure, and you darted your eyes away, flushed and embarrassed at how easily he could get to you.
The faith you had in him to win was astounding; there was a reason why he was known as one of the best warriors in the grasslands.
“You’re the champion,” you grumbled under your breath. “Do you need me to watch your back?”
In response, Sylus’s smile softened around the edges, his red eyes taking on a tender quality.
“Let me paint you a scene, love: I win the challenge, and then I get to be yours. How does that sound?”
Tugging a stray lock of hair which fell loose from your braid, Sylus waited for your answer patiently.
It was useless to try and dispute him. Whatever the strongest wanted, he would get—and he clearly wanted you.
“Alright,” you responded softly, conceding with a smile. “If you win tomorrow, I will hand you my pouch. There is nothing you cannot do.”
Responding to your confidence, he chuckled softly, teasing you more by dragging you closer to him, enjoying your weight pressing onto his body.
“Or, we could do it together.”
He hummed, touching the hollow of your throat with his cool lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to staunch your reckless sounds.
“The second I get that gem, you run up to me, crowning me as your chosen one and I respond back.”
Struggling to control your raging thoughts, you murmured: “Will it work—such boldness?”
To answer your question, he smirked, finding your flustered expression and slight doubt adorable.
“My, my, love. Are you doubting me?”
The world flipped around, and suddenly you were thrown over his shoulder. You gasped, confusion mingling with surprised delight as Sylus manhandled you with practiced ease. He stepped past the plush pillows and rugs, opening the flap of his yurt to bring you out into the mellow morning.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Your sharp inhale spurred on his laugh, his low and rich chuckle making you flush warmly.
“Didn’t you tell me this before, love? Actions speak louder than words.” To your mortification, he was heading right to the middle of the courtyard, where spectators were already gathering to witness the fight.
“Sylus—!”
You smacked his broad shoulders, but he wouldn’t let you down. Sylus already had a plan in mind and you were helpless to stop him.
“Oh, love, relax,” he teased, taking long, purposeful strides towards the other villagers. “I need to show them I already have a lover. And since she won’t let me take her away…” you could plainly picture his cocky smirk. “... I’ll just have to take her myself.”
The rest of the villagers stopped in their tracks when they noticed their chieftain walking towards them, a smaller woman in his arms. Elders dropped what they were doing to whisper under their breaths, their judgemental eyes trained on Sylus’s smug face and the look of mortification on yours.
“Sylus—”
He set you down in the front stand, tossing you a wink for good measure.
Whispers rushed around the arena like wildfire, catching aflame from the look of pure devotion in his eyes; a look reserved just for you.
Enkh’s son, a hulking brute by the name of Altan, shot him a glare—insulted by Sylus’s blatant claim on you.
Motivated by his wrath, the tribal chief turned to the other man, raising a brow.
“Altan, son of Enkh!”
His voice boomed across the field, shocking you out of your mortified stupor.
“You dare claim one of my concubines as your wife? Do you know what that entails?”
The atmosphere in the arena tilted towards a frenzy, the people inadvertently roped in to witness the showdown of the year.
Since ceremonial rites were read and sacrifices were made, the last agenda for today would be the warrior fights. Sylus took his spot in the ring, unafraid. The head monk, a calm man by the name of Bataar, whispered something to Enkh, who glared at you as if this entire ordeal was your fault.
You shrank back in your seat, attempting to hide your scorching cheeks behind your palms.
The fight began, and it was clear from the onset that it would be an unfair one. Sylus, whose expertise and years on the field, easily overpowered Altan, pinning him to the ground. A horn blared, and the winner was declared.
A stirring eagerness and relief moved you from your seat, and you didn’t care for customs or etiquette when you ran across the ring, jumping right into his open arms. Sylus lifted you off your feet with ease, spinning you around, his laughter mingling with yours.
In his palm, he held the priceless gem he stole from Altan’s belt— a symbol of his opponent’s virility. Its capture meant that he had won the other man’s intended bride fair and square. He handed it to you, and right in front of his entire people, you proudly proclaimed your acceptance of his proposal—slipping the jewel right inside of your pouch and handing it to him.
Triumphant, Sylus took your offered gift, tucking it in the lapels of his leather harness with a contented grin.
The tribe elders were helpless to stop their strongest from claiming you, as was the custom of these rituals.
Sylus had no hesitation when he slung you over his shoulder again, a conqueror who had rightfully won his beloved.
He didn’t care if whispers of your status or his incredible defiance towards the elders would reach his ears; all Sylus could think about now was savoring this priceless reward he fought hard to obtain.
Bringing you back to his yurt, Sylus let the flap fall close behind him, a clear signal to the rest of the tribe that he intended to enjoy his winnings in peace.
Your back met the soft pillows and rugs, his broad build blocking out the rafters letting in warm morning sunlight; lost in the depths of his jewel-tone eyes.
They shone like precious rubies, far more valuable to you than any material item in this world.
The feel of your palm stroking his cheek, your fingers playing in his hair, suddenly made his stomach twist into hard knots. They were impossible to unravel, a bowline loop which went on for eternity.
His breathing turned ragged, gaze going soft as he looked at you—really took you in.
The sight of his beloved—his bride—right here in his home, about to be taken and claimed by him, set his nerves ablaze more than any war cry ever could.
Sylus moaned unabashedly when you tangled your fingers in his hair, bold enough away from the prying eyes of others to fall prey to the undeniable attraction you’ve felt for him since the first time you saw each other.
He lets you bring him in for a kiss, your lips sweeter than wildberry dew.
“Sylus…”
The possessive need to claim you flared in him when you called out his name.
Smoldering attraction turned into a wild, untameable blaze, threatening to consume him whole.
Due to his rugged nature, he never had a woman this close to him, her touch a balm to his rough edges.
In your arms, Sylus was more than the fearsome tribal chieftain whose name could strike fear in any man’s heart.
He was wont to your desires, an instrument of your love.
“Please,” you licked your lips, and his eyes followed the gesture with a blatant look of desire. “Kiss me.”
You didn’t have to ask him twice. Sylus captured your lips in a deep and passionate kiss, swallowing your moans whole.
Your tinier fingers in his hair tightened, bringing his body closer onto yours. He fought back a shiver from the force of his desires as his body covered yours completely, trapping you beneath him under his weight.
“My love, you are playing a dangerous game,” he growled, adoring how fragile and small you felt under his hulking mass.
Dragging your hands down the slope of his shoulders, you felt his muscles rippling under your touch; his broad frame and the layers of sinew forming his brawny build leaving you lightheaded.
“Oh, my love. The sight of you underneath me, looking so vulnerable and lovely,” his voice dipped lower, a hoarse edge taking over it. “... it’s driving me wild.”
Shying away from such a bold declaration, you bit your lower lip. “Sylus, will it hurt?”
Sensing you were speaking about the act of copulating, he took your hand, rubbing circles on your palm.
“A little, but it is nothing you cannot handle. Besides, I will be with you through it all—I will not hurt you, my love.”
The idea of a ruthless tribal leader like him, promising some young slave girl that he would be gentle with her, was so far-fetched from your idea of what a conqueror was that you began to relax in his presence.
You trusted Sylus because he has proven time and time again how your comfort and safety were his priorities.
Especially when he was this close to claiming you.
Steady yet hasty hands slowly unraveled the lapels of your thick coat, his breaths tumbling out in silent huffs. Sylus’s large palms were warm—far too warm on your chilly body.
The great chieftain was a silent, nervous wreck when he glanced down at his beloved, watching her with soft eyes and reaching out to her with an even softer touch.
“Sylus… please.”
The cadence of his name on your tongue will never not be the sweetest thing he's heard in his life.
You returned the gesture, removing his leather gauntlets, slowly stripping him off his warrior bravado to reveal the sweet and gentle man underneath.
“Please, what?” He whispered against your throat. Outside, the cool breeze rattled the rafters, but inside his yurt and in his arms, you were warmer than a butterfly in spring.
You seized, back arching when he kissed a tender path from your neck to your bare chest.
The sight of your hardened nipples and smooth curves whipped through him like a frenzy, and Sylus grew impossibly hard at the image of your sweet body, swollen with child.
His child.
The fantasies of your breasts filling up with milk, the slope of your belly gently curving with the promise of his heir…
His thin patience was hanging by a thread.
Sylus shrugged off his sheepskin pants, tossing it to the side of the yurt as he quickly worked on the lapels and hooks of your clothing.
Once your smooth body was bare to him, Sylus’s gaze softened, his tone almost reverent when he said:
“You look beautiful, my beloved.”
You had not imagined your wedding night (or, in this case, morning) to be a tender affair.
Where every brutish belief you once held towards his people melted away with every tender touch of this gentle chieftain.
Sylus propped a pillow under your hips, careful to lean his full weight onto you. Your eyes fluttered shut, a moan seeping past your swollen lips when you felt his tongue glide across your breasts, taking his time to play with and suck on your nipples.
His mouth moved down your body, teasing you with whispery kisses.
Parting your thighs wide, you realized a second too late what he was doing until he slotted himself in between; mouth pressed to your pelvis.
“Sy—”
The protests fizzled out the second you felt his tongue parting through your folds, tasting the effect he had on you.
Low whimpers slipped past your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair.
Sylus… mhmm… s-stop—
But, he didn't relent. He glanced up at your flushed face, shaking his head.
You can take it, beloved. Can't you? For me?
It wasn't the reluctance that set you back but the shame of such an intimate experience.
You had never experienced a man this close to your sensitive parts; the idea of him in this position itself was too much to bear. You should be worshiping him, not the other way around.
But, Sylus refused to listen to your pleas and moans—hellbent on pleasuring you.
His tongue traced patterns on your clit, drawing out more of your high-pitched whines. There was little doubt whoever passed by the yurts could hear your pleasured sighs.
Sylus couldn't care less.
He wanted the whole tribe to know you were his; that he had chosen you and you had chosen him.
His tongue delved deeper into your core, tasting your excitement. Some of it stained onto his face, his chin drenched with your juices.
Your hips rocked to the rhythm his tongue set, your moans reaching fever pitch.
Good girl. That's it. Show me how much you want it.
Sylus murmured, working you through your cresting pleasure.
It came like a rising high within you, soaring higher than any eagle could as you crashed to the ground, screaming his name.
Sylus tightened his grip on your thighs, doubling down on his efforts. Your mess stained his cheeks, his chin, driving his desire to a burning point.
He worked his way up your body, leaving kisses on every inch of skin his mouth could reach.
Finally reaching your lips, Sylus poured every bit of his devotion for you into this heated kiss, swallowing your moans and letting you taste him on his tongue. Strings of saliva connected your lower lip to his, hanging by a tenuous thread.
The heat of your cheeks would have burned you alive, the tension between your bodies rising to a feverish pitch.
Tenderly, he nudged your thighs to wrap around his defined waist, opening you to be taken by him.
The first stretch was accompanied by his lips on yours, coaxing you to relax and open up to him.
That is it… good girl… taking me so well…
The deeper he sank in, the more loud he was with his praise.
I adore you… you sinful, sweet girl… take me… take me good…
Sylus!
Your cries reverberated across the sheepskin walls. It felt like drowning, your body sinking deeper into the plush woolen pillows.
Oh, oh… oh, right there…
He licked into the heat of your mouth, tracing the ridges of your teeth.
There? Does it hurt? Do I make you ache?
Yes, you responded deliriously. Yes, yes and yes.
It was the kind of pain you could never forget, yet you desired it all the same. A masochistic plea of your body to be devoured and conquered.
Sylus raised himself up on his forearms, the bulging, rock hard muscles rippling with every exertion; his thrusts almost knocking you backwards if it weren't for his tight grip on your hips.
Every collision of his cock against a spot deep inside of you made your toes curl; leading you closer towards your desperate end.
Sylus—can't… close…
It felt like a ball of tension growing bigger and tighter, growing uncontrollably hotter with every thrust, every heated whisper of his praise against your ear.
Sylus nipped your jaw, tracing his tongue against the curve of your lower lip.
His gentle insistence, coupled with his brutal thrusts made your body run hot and cold.
Goosebumps erupted across your skin. You were growing dizzier and hotter.
You gasp—fuck, fuck, this is too much—and he tells you just take it, darling.
Take it for me.
He nipped Your earlobe, pushing deeper against your body.
Does it feel good? Are you close?
Squeezing your eyes closed, you nodded.
Yes, Sylus… almost…
Good, he traced his tongue across the heated Seam of your mouth.
Give it to me, darling. Let go for me.
One request. You gave into him.
“Yes, yes,” you shuddered, digging your heels into his lower back.
Sylus groaned, expressions contorting into painful bliss when your walls contracted around him.
He worked you through them, letting you stab your nails into his broad back.
That's it, darling. Give it to me. Come undone for your husband.
Husband.
Husband.
The word sent an unrestrained quake straight through your soul.
Yet, the reality was far sweeter.
Sylus slumped on top of you, spent after releasing ropes of warmth deep inside your quivering cunt.
Languidly, he rolled you onto his chest, skin pressed to warm skin. You were spent, soaked and still wrapped around him.
The act of consummation was over. You finally belonged to him.
And for the test of his days, Sylus would make sure to show you how much you mean to him; going above and beyond to declare his love.
“I love you,” he slurred into the heat of your throat. “Always have. And from the very beginning.”
You nestled closer into his side, feeling safe in the warmth of his arms, finally allowing yourself to embrace the reality of this powerful man’s infatuation with you.
Amidst the vast and intimidating grasslands, you had ensured your survival as the feared chieftain's wife, with Sylus unwaveringly by your side.
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