Synopsis: in which you meet a member of one of your favorite groups and have an unforgettable experience
WC: 425
A/N: my writing isn't the best so please bear with me 😬
Part 11 ♡ Masterlist ♡ Part 13
For the past 5 minutes, Yunjin has been standing outside your room, fidgeting with the bag of clothes Chaewon got you.
Should she leave and say you weren't in your room or should she knock and just leave the paper bag outside your door? Leaving it would definitely be easier for her since she wouldn't have to interact with you.
That's a great idea. I should've thought of that earlier.
Yunjin hangs the bag on the doorknob and knocks three times. Taking off down the hallway, she turns the corner and waits.
The unmistakable sound of the door opening doesn't come. She peeks around the corner and finds the bag still hanging there. She waits a few more seconds before marching back towards your room.
How did she not hear that?
Deciding to try again, she knocks harder this time, her knuckles stinging from the force. She takes off back to her hiding spot and waits.
Nothing.
What the hell. Is she not in her room?
She trudges back, glaring at your door. Taking the bag off the doorknob, she pulls out her phone to text Chaewon.
She's barely typing in her password when the door swings open.
Yunjin startles, surprised by your abrupt appearance. Taking a few steps back, she trips over her own foot almost falling backwards. You manage to grab her arms in time and steady her.
"You okay?"
Yunjin numbly nods her head.
A gentle smile forms on your lips and you drop your hands from Yunjin's forearms. Only then does she become aware of how cold it is in the hallway.
"Were you the one knocking really loud?"
Yunjin pretends to be confused, not wanting to admit it was her.
"No, I just got here. It might have been some... weirdo that was passing by trying to be funny."
Your brows furrow in confusion and before you can ask further questions, Yunjin beats you to it.
"So, Chaewon asked me to bring you this," Yunjin says, holding out the bag of clothes to you.
"What is it?"
"Just some cloth-"
You reach for the bag, your fingers slightly brushing Yunjin's. She abruptly pulls her hand away and runs off.
You catch a glimpse of Yunjin's long brown, almost orange, hair before her room door slams shut.
You stand there for a few minutes, wondering what just happened. Did you somehow do something to offend her? You hope not.
Yunjin leans against the door, holding her hand to her chest as if she'd just been burned.
synopsis:
↳ when y/n visits septimont with her brother, rover, she didn't expect to compete in the gladiator tournament with their new friend, lupa, nor to catch the attention of the septimontain's leader, augusta
genre:
↳ wlw, fluff, love at first sight, slow burn
featuring:
↳ augusta x rover's sister!reader
↳ lupa, rover (male ver.), iuno
warnings / notes:
↳ i hope you like it @keervah
↳ 940 words
↳ please do not copy, translate or repost any of my works anywhere.
Septimont did not bow to kings, it bowed to power.
Stone walls carved with battle sigils towered into the blazing sky, banners snapping violently in the heat, and at the city’s heart stood the arena—ancient, massive, soaked in history and victory.
Rover exhaled slowly beside you, “Yeah…this place runs on strength.”
Lupa grinned, “As it should.”
In Septimont, the strongest ruled.
At the highest platform overlooking the arena sat the Ephor—head of the city, final authority, and undefeated champion, Augusta.
She was impossible to miss.
Tall and striking, her presence commanded silence even among roaring crowds. Pale skin glowed against the gold of her armor—a sleeveless white tunic beneath an ornate golden chestplate, pauldrons resting sharply on her shoulders. A flowing white skirt split by leather pteruges moved with the breeze, revealing high-cut black shorts beneath.
Her long, vibrant orange-red hair cascaded down her back like fire.
Sharp crimson eyes, ringed in white-gold, surveyed the fighters below like a predator choosing its prey.
On the back of her left hand, her Tacet Mark glimmered faintly. A golden sunburst headpiece rested on her brow and eight-pointed star earrings caught the light.
Power, elegance, and danger—all in one woman.
Beside the throne stood the Council of Elders, and somewhere unseen for now—the Priestess who guided fate itself but it was Augusta who ruled, her word was law.
The horn thundered and the gladiator tournament began, as warriors surged into the arena.
Steel rang, dust exploded, and shouts echoed like thunder.
You moved without thinking, a blade came for your head as you ducked, swept their legs, and twisted their wrist until their weapon clattered away.
Another charged, you vaulted over their shoulder and slammed them into the sand.
The crowd erupted as Rover fought like a storm beside you and Lupa laughed as she disarmed two opponents at once, but something shifted and the chanting changed—your name, getting louder and louder and louder from every section of the arena.
From her throne, Augusta leaned forward watching you with interest.
Your movements weren’t wild, they were precise and controlled, every strike had purpose, strength backed by skill
Not reckless or cruel, but beautiful.
A massive gladiator rushed towards you with a war hammer.
The ground shook and you waited.
At the last second, you pivoted, grabbed the handle and twisted, using their momentum to send them crashing flat onto their back.
Silence, and then the arena exploded. Augusta stood causing the entire arena to freeze, even the elders bowed their heads.
Her voice carried like thunder wrapped in silk, “Victory.”
Your chest heaved as guards separated the fighters, but Augusta’s gaze stayed locked onto you—sharp, burning, and curious.
The undefeated Ephor had found her next obsession.
Days blurred into brutal rounds as you, Rover, and Lupa kept winning but it was you who Augusta watched relentlessly.
Sometimes she evaluated other fighters but her eyes always returned to you.
When you fought, lightning crackled faintly around her greatsword—her Griffon Echo shimmering above her like a spirit of war as she tested her own skills between matches.
Watching her was like witnessing a living legend; flashy, powerful, and untouchable. Yet somehow, you were the only one who made her lean forward during your matches.
The final battle was chaos; dust storms of movement and weapons clashing in every direction.
When it ended, only three stood—you, Rover, and Lupa.
The arena had gone silent, and then a thunderous applause followed by the sound of the horn, long and loud.
Victory.
High above, the priestess had finally emerged, Iuno, the infamous one, whispered about, feared and trusted.
She lifted three medals etched with Septimont’s crest.
“By fate and by strength,” she declared, “the champions are crowned.”
She placed one around Rover’s neck, one around Lupa’s, and then stepped before you.
Her gaze lingered, calculating. “The arena has chosen you.”
When she placed the medal against your chest, her fingers brushed lightly.
“You have altered Septimont’s path.”
A strange smile touched her lips and behind her, Augusta watched you like a storm barely contained.
Later, when the crowds finally faded and torches lit the stone corridors, you stood alone near the training grounds, still buzzing with adrenaline.
“Y/n.”
Your heart jumped and you turned to see who it was as Augusta approached—no throne, no council, and no ceremony, just her.
Up close, she was overwhelming—tall, broad-shouldered, and the faint scent of metal and heat clung to her armor as lightning still danced softly along her greatsword.
“You fight as a warrior born,” she said quietly. “But your power is earned.”
You swallowed, “So is yours.”
Her sharp eyes softened, barely.
“Few speak to me like that.”
“Few fight like I do,” you replied before you could stop yourself.
For a long moment, the Ephor of Septimont simply stared and then she laughed—soft, real and dangerous.
“I have ruled this city through strength alone,” she said. “But today, you reminded me why I first took the blade."
Her gaze dropped briefly to your medal, then back to your eyes.
“You have my respect.”
Your breath caught.
“And,” she added lowly, “my interest.”
The air around you felt electric when she said those words.
“I would see you train here,” Augusta continued. “Remain in Septimont.”
“With you?” you asked.
Her lips curved, “Especially with me.”
From a balcony above, Lupa nudged Rover. “Oh she’s a goner.”
Rover nodded in agreement, “Absolutely.”
Iuno watched quietly, eyes glowing with unreadable fate.
“The Ephor's future has changed,” she murmured.
And beneath burning skies and echoing steel, the undefeated gladiator had finally met her match though not in strength but in her heart.
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