Being the daughter of Hissah Zul and falling for Conan:
Note: Most of you already know I like the " surprisingly nice daughter of the villain aligns with the hero and falls for him" concept. It's a repeated thing in my masterlist, but I will do it again.
-Let's start from the beggining: for those unlucky enough to be reading me with no idea of the lore for this, Hissah Zul is a stereotypical sword and sorcery villain with all the connotations this implies. Cartoonishly nasty evil wizard hoarding a tyrannic control over the land. He makes Troy (2004) Agamemnon look deep and well written in comparison, he is the boogeyman in BBC Merlin Uther Pendragon's mind.
But ultimately, he is this same brand of asshole only more exaggerated and magical.
-He is cartoonishly evil, I can see him sentencing the mother for execution right after finding out she gave him a daughter instead of a boy heir. He would have no problem on killing the child as well, unless in full fairytale fashion someone would warm him she is going to be powerful.
-This guy betrayed his own brother, stole his power and turned him into a monster! Of course he would raise a daughter just to be exploited.
-And so, you grow up very much aware that you are a prisoner. Everyone in his fortress exists only to serve him, heads rolling the moment their purpose runs out.
-If more comfortable on appearance, your childhood isn't any less traumatic than Conan's. The pressure to excell for you isn't a simple " princess forced to fulfill her role's expectations" situation. Your father kept you around only because he found you useful, and he is not shy about it.
-When you were old enough to start learning magic, you would cry in fear to the smallest error for thinking that he would kill you if you wouldn't demostrate the exceptional gift he was prophetized. You have heard the stories of what he did to your uncle, you knew he killed your mother.
-There was no mercy you could expect from him. No love, not even for the parts of you that resembled him.
-Choosing kindness despite everything is your rebellion, your only private resistance against his plan for you. If developing your powers with the ultimate purpose of serving his evil deeds is what he wants, you would refuse to turn into an evil witch.
-Of course, your sweetness of spirit is not something you can show off at any given chance when you are surrounded by the evil human allies and magical servants of your wicked father. Part of appearing loyal implies you have to seem on board with whatever they are scheming.
-You make the difference in the little details. Subtle enough to let the weak ones at their mercy suspect you are an ally they could count on, but not fully reveal yourself.
-Whenever the wizard Yara would visit the castle, he used to bring with him a little man he kept as manservant but treated as a pet. Your father found him repulsive, so when he would be dragged out from the throne room you would go to his encounter and comfort him.
-Unlike everyone else in his surroundings, you approached him with respect and care. Over the course of many visits you would make each other company as your masters plotted their matters.
-A secret alliance, and a tender friendship, was born between you.
-Yara sees your liking of his servant with good eye because he wants you for a wife. The disgusting wizard in posesion of an orb that controls minds at sight knows you are the onlyone he can't have.
-"I am glad to see you are becoming used to Otli, for soon you will be mine."
" We shall see"
-Because you are the beautiful daughter of the master, and a talented sorceress, many of Hissah Zul's associates threaten with becoming your suitors. Nobody had succeed, because your father has no intentions of sharing your power with a mortal general or one of his wizard puppets.
-One day, you get news saying your little friend has been released from his master along with General Gorgoth's death.
-Despite the fallen one was Yara's greatest political rival, this was not a victory for him. An unknown hero got the glory for this feat: the first one to ever triumph resisting your father's rule.
-From that moment, his name echoed in the tyrant's curses: Conan the Cimmerian.
-Hissah Zul wants to eliminate him, but he thinks himself too above the matter to do it directly by the means of his own magic. He has plenty of servants fitting to do the work, or at least he thinks so. However, he wouldn't easily consider you for the task. Because his blood runs through your veins, you are an extension of his own magic.
-It means he wouldn't send you on a quest against his great enemy unless he would be too desperate, and he never wants to appear desperate. There is also the fact that a mission outside would be giving you too much autonomy and he needs to feel his control over you completely secured.
-With a fake smile and calming disposition you hear him complain about the hero. He describes his feats to you in angry rants, what only makes your curiosity grow.
-Curiosity that turns into secret admiration of his strenght and courage, waiting with excitement to hear your father narrate another defeat. Conan's victories inspire in you a desire for freedom, and you start to severely dissobey.
-You wait until your father would be too distracted to catch you in order to visit his oracle: a talking skull emerging from a flooded, boiling pond. The same who had once saved your life as a baby.
-With thankful kindness and a small bribe, you get him to talk to you. As you inmediately ask him about Conan, he reveals you something no rageful speech of your father ever mentioned. There is a new prophecy warning that the barbarian is destined to destroy him and become king in his place.
-The Skull conveniently refuses to speak of your role in this one, but you are too fascinated by the realization that your lifetime's jailer had discovered his own mortality.
-If hate and fear of Conan keeps Hissah Zul obsessed, hope and wonder attract you to him. You want to see him, ceaselessly imagining how he could look like, and for this you use your powers on your own interest.
-Crystallomancy didn't use to be your strenght, but it was your only way to see him without escaping the castle. Bringing out your old crystal ball, you practiced until the force of your desire brought images of the hero to the transparent surface.
-He is the most handsome man you have ever seen and it doesn't take long for you to become infatuated with him. More eager than ever, you continue with your secret spying wishing to learn more of him everyday. You watch him fight, travel with his friends and sweetly react to the girls flirting with him anywhere he went. For a barbarian, he is impressively kind and soft spoken.
-It occures to you that your growing feelings couldn't be a coincidence and you have to be part of his fate. If Conan would someday dethrone your father and become a king, perhaps you would be the queen to rule beside him.
-Your hopeful imagination comes up with the missing piece on the skull's prophecy: Conan would come to free you. He would be received by your devoted love and you would be his as the throne.
-Convinced that he is your fate, you don't want to wait any longer and abandon the crystal watching for something that could bring you closer to him. An art you dominate with expertise, one your father can't supress or easily discover.
-Meditative spellwork to project yourself elsewhere, that you use to visit him in dreams. All the warrior thinks is that you are a surprisingly recurrent character of his fantasies, but he always wakes up wondering if there was a glimpse of reality in your encounters.
-From the very first time he saw you, he was mesmerized. You could tell by the soft way in which his eyes find you, adopting the proximity and body language you watched him develop plenty of times in front of girls he liked. Every time you meet, he catches you in his arms and you vanish before he could kiss you.
-The greatest hero of your time follows you like a lost puppy through the pathways of his mind.
-"Who are you? "
" I am a princess prisoner on her own castle. If you rescue me, I'll be forever yours and crown you king."
-As nights go by, your encounters start resembling dates. Your magic serves of imagination to transport him into different pleasant settlings: forests, beaches, the nice cottage of a village and your own bedroom in the tower of the castle that he enters climbing through your window.
-Feeling himself falling for a woman in his dreams, he ends up consulting his travel companions on fear of losing his mind. Finally, it's the description of the castle and your room what eventually gives you away.
-Otli has been there, he knows how your bedroom looks like and the true of your soft heart.
-" Hissah Zul has a daughter who resembles nothing of him. She is pure as daylight, and gorgeous as well. It's possibly she has became infatuated with you, and having no other mean to approach ... "
"... Or it could be a trap!"
" Always so positive, Bayu! I know the girl, she wouldn't hurt a fly. She was the onlyone treating me with respect when my duties with Yara would drag me to his master's fortress. The onlyone who seeked my friendship while I was a slave."
-Conan is divided between his hatred for magic and his growing interest in you. After your friend convinces him that you are yet another victim of the master of sorcery, the tenderest feeling wins.
-" We have only one way to tell: marching to Hissah Zul's castle and see for ourselves. If she is an enemy of the wizard, she shall be mine."
Inside a grand theater, Gin sat coldly in the VIP section, watching every fleeting scene unfold below. His eyes glimmered with disdain as he mocked the singer’s desperate attempt to hit a high note—shrill and unrefined, just screaming, really—yet the audience below still showered her with hollow praise.
He clicked his tongue, mind drifting back to a woman once hailed as the most beautiful blossom of the Land of Cherry Blossoms. She had been so breathtakingly lovely, so delicate, that no words could ever truly capture her allure. Yet the world has its cruel wisdom: A beauty’s life is a fleeting one. She ended her own life with a single gunshot, alone in her home. The reason why—no one ever really knew.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The audience’s thunderous applause dragged him back to the present—the present he so despised. Rising slowly, he made his way toward the parking lot, where Vermouth was already waiting for him. She could not see his face clearly in the darkness, but his imposing figure spoke enough of the noble air he carried so effortlessly. As he tilted his head slightly, the sleek lines of his tailored suit accentuated every sharp edge of his stature.
“You never miss a night, do you?” Vermouth teased, though he could hear the poison that always curled beneath her honeyed voice. “Still haunted by her, i guess?”
He said nothing, just stared at her with that fleeting contempt dancing in his eyes. Vermouth looked away, then back at him—her gaze suddenly dripping with feigned softness.
“Don’t push your luck, Vermouth.” His tone was ice, final. Without another glance, he slipped into his car. Her mocking laughter followed him as he drove off into the night.
It all traced back to those years when that ethereal beauty graced the streets like a dream given flesh. By then, Gin had carved out his place in the organization—an unshakable role built through ruthless survival. They met by chance, or perhaps by fate—he had dreamed of her before he ever laid eyes on her. The first time he came to settle a score at that very theater, she stood before him—his dream turned real.
She bewitched him effortlessly, wrapping him in every shade of love’s cruel tenderness. He indulged her every whim—once burning the most expensive bill he owned just so she wouldn’t ruin her delicate shoes crossing a muddy street. She never spoke much; neither did he. They both spoke a language made only of actions.
Once, she tiptoed up and pressed her lips softly against his.
“I’ve kissed you. That makes you mine now.”
She believed that to kiss was to bind two souls together—like the first sip from a bottle meant the rest belonged to you. So she kissed him once and decided: his heart would beat for her alone, until its last note.
Back then, those childish words must have seemed absurd to a man like him—her fierce, clumsy devotion a laughable thing.
Two souls—one man, one woman—drifted together, clung to each other, hurt each other. Love turned illusion, and that illusion shattered them both. He loved her so deeply he led her to ruin. He loved her enough to abandon everything, to dream of a life far from all the killing.
“Kill her.”
That her—the First Beauty—was no mere name. She had become the most exquisite thing in his brutal world. How could he stain that beauty with his own hand?
“Why?” he growled, a strange tremor cracking through his heart.
He was afraid.
Afraid?
A man like Gin, trembling at the thought of killing a woman?
But love is the one chain that breaks every iron rule.
“Do it.” That was all his boss said before dismissing him like a stray dog. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles bled. He’d rather she killed him—anything but a life where her warmth no longer existed.
He’d always known: in this line of work, everyone close enough would someday have to die by his hand. But still—he was caged in a prison named Love.
She was infuriating—beautifully so.
When he returned from missions, she’d wait at the door like an eager child, launching herself into his arms the second she saw him. If he worked late in his study, she’d barge in, chatter nonsense, disrupt him until he finally banned her from the room altogether. Sometimes, she’d sneak in anyway, gently stroke his hair until he fell asleep—protecting him, shielding him from shadows only she seemed to see.
And then there was that question, softly spoken:
“If I die, will you be sad?”
He’d answered immediately: No.
Because he truly believed it—he was too numb to mourn anyone’s absence. At worst, he’d be annoyed. After all, she was just another pretty face, wasn’t she? But his every action afterward betrayed that lie.
When he opened the door to their home—her home—he heard that familiar voice drifting from the next room: “Welcome back.”
He hated knowing that one day, he’d never hear it again.
So he did something foolish—shutting his eyes, he pretended it was all just a dream. Maybe when he opened them, she’d still be there—waiting, belly rounded with a child who’d call him father.
“Darling?” Her sweet voice pulled him back. He forced his eyes open. Painful, but better than pretending.
He stepped inside, shoes abandoned at the door, and walked toward the sound of her.
Bathed in the ghostly glow of that single bulb, she looked up at him with that naive, gentle smile—the light that once trapped his ruthless heart. He reached out, fingertips brushing the edge of that smile, as if trying to prove it was real.
Noticing the broken sorrow in his eyes, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his broad back. His tall frame, sharp silver hair falling over cold eyes and that distant, lethal beauty—none of it scared her. He cupped her cheek.
“Kill me.”
“It’s time, isn’t it?” she asked softly. Spring-water eyes met his, utterly unafraid. Gin pressed a handkerchief into her palm—their token of love. Hidden inside was a silenced pistol.
She didn’t even flinch, so he spoke anyway—trying to explain that this was the only way to save her. But her soft, eerie laugh made his chest tighten—what did that laugh mean?
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
She paused, something inside her cracking. Looking at his raw, desperate face, she fell silent, unsure what to say. Then she whispered hoarsely,
“Don’t do this, please…”
She lifted her trembling hands, and in that dim light, they could both see it—her once-elegant fingers shimmering, fading into transparency.
He opened his mouth, but the scene twisted—warped—his vision spun, and a coppery stench hit him from the bathroom.
Her body was—
She was gone.
Gin collapsed to the floor, nausea clawing at his throat. Only now did he remember—the body of the First Beauty had been lying in that tub for two days already. No one ever ordered him to kill her. There had never been a sweet voice welcoming him home—only the desperate illusions he’d woven to escape the monster named Reality.
She was gone, taking with her all the reckless dreams and fragile wishes of a woman who just wanted a home. He’d wanted it too—a family, a quiet life with her. So why did she abandon him so cruelly?
He had no answer.
The truth was, the heart never sits on the right side.
the franchise, this movie: IS SO GOATED!!! 10/10 recommended
disclaimer: female reader cause why not
warnings: kidnapping and one-sided love
At first, Conan is veryy delusional. He’s never really understanding about this love thing.
It’s a myth to him. He doesn’t believe he could possess feelings for a woman or anyone.
Has incredible expectations for women that surrounds themselves around Conan for their safety, but however: the thought of being committed to one threatens him and his pride.
Although, he has many whores to keep him satisfied with his inner barbarian needs, he never did crave one.
He thought himself as a total douchebag when the women he messes around with have feelings for him.
The thought of someone loving him is annoyance, a pain even, a nagging wound you can never heal or stop the bleeding.
His life is devoted to avenge his father’s death, that is, until he met you.
He met you when he met Tamara of course.
Due to you being her unidentical twin: you’re both stuck together.
Conan happened to notice when his feelings first adapted but he avoids it like his life depends on it.
He needs to murder Khalar Zym before even thinking of having heir for the next generation but the indwelling anger and annoyance for Khalar Zym goes away swiftly when he shares your presence.
Your soft, unbearable, peaceful presence.
It’s excruciating.
You’re excruciating.
He wants more.
Yet you’re one few people who show mercy and kindness towards Conan.
Give him more.
Despite Tamara’s disrespectfulness and feminine attitude: he enjoys your gentle and careful touch about him. You would always tend his wounds when needed and he would enjoy the slender feeling but he attempts to push it away.
He doesn’t know why, but for one thing certain: he doesn’t want it away.
He wants to savor it.
Needless to say: he realizes his feelings. He finally is well aware of the emotions he expresses about you.
Now he will be needing a plan, he is all over the place, in his mind; trying to figure out a well-coordinated plan to confess.
When Khalar Zym was defeated, you and Tamara returned your birthplace to reunite with your families, church sisters and Father Fassir.
He didn’t care as much in the beginning: comrades come and go all the time but this feeling was different.
Sleepless nights and lack in desire of just living begin affecting Conan when you were gone.
Usually, he solves his problems with blood like his savage tribe, but in this case, he takes you, in the middle of the night when you and your church sisters were sleeping.
You were one of the oldest so you had your own chamber which was across from Tamara’s dorm. You were asleep, dead asleep.
It took a lot of courage for him to even think this through but in the end, you were successfully rescued. When you woke up that morning on a ship in the master’s chamber.
You felt a sharp blade hover over your bare leg from the cover, petrified, you refused to move a muscle until a calloused hand cups your chin to face your captor.
You were startled to see the familiar face. “Conan?” you whimper slightly in surprised, least expecting him.
A grin plasters against his features, loving the way his name rolled from your tongue as his calloused hand remains on your face while you desperately look around for any hope of escape.
Conan the Barbarian had a orginal version wayy back. When the remake with Jason Momoa took place, I could never ignore that sexy god. I lowkey loved Conan as a kid though, i thought he was strong
I’m a reader insert blog who’s currently in love with all things Detroit and exactly zero requests! It’s been a hot second since I last wrote and posted something, but I’d really like to get back into the swing of things with some DBH inserts.
I’ll write for:
Connor (RK800)
Nines/Conan (RK900)
Gavin Reed
Hank Anderson
Ralph
Markus
Simon
North
I’ll try my hand at Elijah Kamski
So, if you’re feeling so inclined, please send some requests my way! I can’t wait to get back to writing with characters I love!
PS- I also write for other fandoms, which can be found here. Feel free to shoot me a request for those, too. Although, for the time being, Detroit requests will be top priority.
Jinpei was a womanizer — almost every girl who caught his eye would eventually fall for him. But no one knew that he had never truly given his heart to anyone. Not until he met the one.
She was cheerful, lively, always surrounded by friends — not just because of her bright personality but also her striking beauty. It was safe to say anyone could fall for her at first sight. But she clung to Jinpei. Wherever he worked, she worked. After all, they were in the same field. He had quietly loved her for a long time, never daring to confess. Until one day.
As usual, he drove her home on his motorcycle — not because he didn’t own a car, but because he enjoyed the way she held on tightly from behind when he sped up. When they arrived, she looked a little dazed. He took off her helmet like he always did and asked:
“What kind of person do you think I am?”
She thought it was a random question, but he looked deadly serious. Sweat trickled down his temple as he waited for her response.
“You’re a wonderful senior — and quite the ladies’ man,” she said playfully, her lips curling in that way that drove him mad.
“Then… would you want to date someone like that?”
It was practically a confession. And she was more than willing to accept.
“Sure.”
They said nothing more. But in that moment, both hearts silently agreed — these two now belonged to each other.
Their love bloomed sweetly and happily. He treated her like a delicate treasure.
“One day without you and I can’t breathe,” he said, hugging her tightly. “Let’s stay like this forever, please.”
“I missed you too,” she whispered, gently stroking his back, basking in his embrace.
“Let me take you for a ride before heading home. I just want more time with you,” he pleaded sweetly. She laughed and agreed without hesitation.
Their love was pure, innocent — untouched by lust or darkness. But slowly, it began to change. Jinpei became increasingly possessive. He once beat up a man who had accidentally held her hand. Y/N grew tired of his baseless jealousy and eventually couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m done. Let’s stop,” she said angrily, stepping off his bike.
“Oh? You mean… stop dating and get married? That’s a strange way to propose,” Jinpei chuckled nervously, still removing her helmet like always.
“No. I mean break up. I can’t stand the way you love me.”
His heart clenched. Panicking, he tried to hold onto her.
“Please, don’t. I love you. I’m sorry for being jealous. Let me make it up to you. Don’t leave me…”
He reached for her, but she shoved him away. He was losing control.
“I promise I’ll change. Please don’t go.”
No one could deny how much he had done for her. He took care of her meals, her clothes, her every need. Though he didn’t earn much and had no side job, every outing with her meant he had to skip meals just to afford it. She was from a wealthy family, but he never let her pay.
“We can still be friends,” she said firmly. “Just not lovers — not until I see you’ve changed.”
“Alright… alright. As long as you don’t leave me,” he said, utterly defeated.
The next day, he came to her house with a box of sweets and her favorite bubble tea. She welcomed him in as usual. But as she slowly slipped into sleep, all she could remember was his face across the table… and then, darkness.
He had drugged her — a mild dose, just enough to avoid harming her health, he told himself. He brought her to his home, changed her into a simple nightgown, wiped her down gently, then laid her on his bed. His room was neat, tidy… but the walls were covered with pictures of her — eating, smiling, exercising… every moment captured.
“Mm…” She slowly woke up, a little dizzy. Realizing this wasn’t her room, she shot upright — and saw Jinpei sitting beside the bed.
“You’re awake. I chose the mildest type — it won’t affect your health,” he said gently, like nothing was wrong.
“What the hell is this, Jinpei?!” she screamed.
“I had no choice. This is the only way I could keep you by my side.”
“You know this is illegal!”
“I don’t care. Japanese cops are useless anyway.”
Days passed. He put a special collar on her that would sound an alarm if she stepped outside. Though he cooked her nourishing meals every day, she refused to eat. She hated him now. On days she didn’t cry, she would just stare blankly into space, her eyes full of despair. Nothing like the joyful girl she once was.
“Come on, eat something. You’ll need strength to keep hating me,” he said, bringing a spoonful of soup close to her lips. The aroma was wonderful, but she turned her face away.
“If you won’t let me go, then just watch me waste away,” she said coldly, not even sparing him a glance. Outside, the police were searching frantically for the missing girl — her. She hated him so much, even the way she addressed him had changed.
“Y/N…” he murmured, his heart tearing apart.
“Then give me two months,” he pleaded. “Just stay with me for two months. Pretend to be happy, even if you’re faking it. After that… I’ll let you go.”
The Song of the Siren - Conan x Fem Plus Size!Reader
Warnings: Readers starts up insecure. Mixing of siren and mermaid lore with some creative additons.
Summary: The armies of Hissah Zul are commanded to search for the master a weapon of beauty and magical charm, but their search falls on the narrowed sight of vile men. Fate and chance lead Conan, the sworn enemy of the tyrant, to the scene of their failure. Beauty is on the eyes of the beholder, and his aren't blind to the prize.
Note: You may find this cringey, but the show is "so bad it's good" cheap swords and sorcery with questionable acting so the cringeworthy aspects fit the cheesy vibe from the source. Suspension of disbelief is required.
The ways of the quest to destroy Hissah Zul had led Conan and his friends to all sorts of dangers. Often followed by the magical henchmen servile to the Master of Sorcery or by his great armies of men led by vile commanders, they have become used to being hunted. However, the time of your fortunate meeting presented them with a disconcerting image they couldn't explain with ease.
An entire herd of men carrying the emblem of the tyrant, bodies spreaded everywhere with the exception of one carefully placed tomb, and you, the only survivor spotted nearby. There were signs of mourning in your troubled semblance, but not a single scratch on sight. From this fact raised the source of all their doubts, on an observable detail obscure to their understanding.
It wouldn't be the first time they would rescue a suffering woman from the forces of the enemy, but something in the situation was definitely odd. Sitting quietly on the surface of a rock observing the result of the battle, you didn't come to them once you have acknowledged their presence. Your sadness was not the one of a desperate creature begging for help, but the resignation on a mourning victim that had found peace.
" Those evil men found the end their deserved. " You informed to the crew dismounting nearby without looking at any of them. " Innocent blood has been spilled, so they had to be stopped ... if it only would have came to happen in time!! "
Approaching you ahead of everyone was a sweet faced little man, up to comfort you from what he believed was self blame product of captivity. As most would, his primarly theory was to guess you escaped the dreaded fate in hidding through whatever acts leading to the observable result around.
" It's a relief to know you don't mourn for them, or you would be in trouble. " Was the kind joke he choose for his introduction. " The men laying dead among us carry the sign of Hissah Zul, and we are sworn enemies of the sorcerer. "
Your smile to the statement tranquilized him, and the warm shine of your eyes suddenly rebirthing in your first direct glance at him was taken as a good sign.
" Then you are meant to be my friends! On his name has my village been raided. "
First piece of the tale that brought some sort of normalicy to them, since it was well known that the armies of the enemy regularly pillaged populations in their way. It also moved the leader of the travelling group, whose sudden closeness felt to you very different to the initial approach of his friend. His imponent presence forced you to look at him from the start, for a man as enormous was quite hard to ignore even if you would have wished so. A barbarian, you could tell by the strange clothing covering only what the most basic decency forced him to hide. However, his heroic bearing inspired admiration rather than fright.
" Tell us what happened and we will help."
He bent down beside you, his glance capturing you with calm curiosity, and the smaller man stepped back to make space for him. Soon, it became impossible for you not to follow in brief, yet intense contemplation of the stranger.
The most handsome man you have ever seen, of surprising tenderness for someone of his strenght and size, fact that mananged to encourage you.
" They came by night, taking us by surprise, and killed many men. All the women were spared, but we were gagged and inspected. Those men knew what they were looking for, but refused to tell us. " Was the start of your tale, that you delivered without missing an instant of staring into his eyes. " They decided to rob the one they found most beautifull, and then dragged me as well for trying to fight back in aid of her. "
Something you said must have been of his liking, because you made him smile with more fondness than politeness.
" You have courage, and you don't lack strenght. Courage and strenght are beauty to me."
Continuing with the grim narration was hard in the light of such sweet compliment, comment that was strictly unnecesary to the matter you were dealing with. He had no reason to proceed that way, caring to reassure you regarding the undertones reached in that part of the story.
After all, it was the truth. The men of Hissah Zul didn't think you were beautifull enough to be who they were looking for. Your figure, bigger than the majority of the young girls of the village, discarded you from their suspects ahead of everyone else.
" We were meant to reach the castle of the sorcerer, and they mocked me claiming that their master would turn me into a hideous creature just to amuse himself because he would never find me fit to serve him." You corrected, avoiding to express any personal opinion of his saids. " When they jested my companion in the same pridefull cruelty, they foolishly gave themselves away ... "
You interrupted yourself for an instant, searching your surroundings to acknowledge if everyone else was attentive in order to hear the detail that concerned them the most.
" They were searching for a weapon, one they believed she possesed."
A dark skinned man of long, messy curls interrumpted you with a certain impatience, as if ready for battle.
" What kind of weapon? ... And where is she?"
" Dead, they killed her when they realized they got the wrong one. " You sadly informed him, deviating your attention from the barbarian for the first time since he had approached. " It was me who they were looking for, but over and over they refused to believe it. I tried to stop them, to make them realize of their mistake, but I found only insults and laughter, so I showed them ... "
The quick mind of the little man arrived to the correct conclussion.
" It was not a physical weapon, not a magic sword or a sacred talisman: she is the weapon. She is trying to tell us that she is magical."
The barbarian raised up, his sudden displease breaking your heart even if it was precisely the reaction you were waiting for.
" I don't like magic. "
" I didn't choose the path of witchcraft! I was born cursed, from the forbbiden loves of a siren with a mortal man. My own mother told my father to take me far into land, to a village of men away from the sea, only so it would be harder for Hissah Zul to find me." You attempted to explain, hurted by the rejectment. " Merfolk can only walk the earth under certain conditions, they need spells for it that are not permanent, but I don't have such limitations. In most aspects, I am a human girl, but I inherited the curse of their singing ... Those men left me no other choice, so I sang, and soon they started to kill each other. "
Another barbarian, similar in appearance but slightly shorter, made some signs you couldn't quite understand, but inspired you trust in his brief sadness when you esentially confessed to posess a cursed voice.
" Of course she isn't dangerous, Zzeben! If she was a wicked one, we would already be sharing the luck of those misserable fools." The small man replicated, then proceeded to defend you against the doubts of everyone else. " Nobody can resist the song of the siren, it charms and enslaves wills untill the victims rush gladly to their own destruction. Catching one of pure blood, of the ones you find in the sea, it's extremely difficult, but Hissah Zul doesn't have to get a pond for his castle in order to control this power if he can find a hybrid. This sweet girl doesn't want to hurt us or Conan, but he does, so we should help her for our own good."
His support moved you, managing to make you smile again, but had also brought an implicit another matter for your surprise. The handsome barbarian was no other but Conan, the Cimmerian famous for his feats freeing people from Hissah Zul.
It was destiny, for there was no other way to explain such fortuit coincidence.
" If she was able to kill the entire host, then it's clear she doesn't need us." The skeptical who first questioned you followed, keeping himself more strongly reticent than the contemplative Conan hearing them argue. " Why should we care? There is nothing deep into these woods more dangerous than her."
Tired of hearing the men discuss about you over you, and wondering if your tale haven't been clear enough, you stood up and walked untill facing him.
" If you silence me, I am a normal girl, and not an amazon fighter regardless of how robust I look. The sorcerer won't stop hunting me just because his men failed at first try and my only defense from him is that my appearance acts as a perfect disguise ... An innocent girl is dead because I don't capture to perfection the irresistible beauty in the legends of the sirens."
The guilt over what happened seiled what the endured humilliations started, mannifesting through the feelings of inadequacy for thinking that if you would have been good enough for your captors they wouldn't have dragged anyone else into it.
Probably because he understood you better than anyone else, the little man didn't let you submit yourself to those thoughts.
" ... But you are beautifull, and those men were fools who didn't know the legends as well as they thought. You look fitting for one that was raised in a village." He sweetly corrected you. " Sirens lure their victims offering what they desire the most, so the part of you that is one must have adapted to it. As far as we have seen, villagers sometimes struggle even in the richer lands, so it's most likely that the people you grew up with craved food among anything ... "
His strange theory impressed you. Even if it felt as a metaphoric way to comfort you, it was very well thought.
" ... That would have never occured to me before. You are as clever as your are sweet, little friend! May I know your name? "
You turned to his side and bent down to caress his bearded cheek, feeling him smile against your palm. This more heartfelt approach caused a protective reaction of his skeptical friend thinking you were trying to fool him.
All you wanted was to return the nice detail he had with you, but he didn't see it that way. It at least made you happy for him, because his friends trully cared enough to worry of such things.
" Otli, stop!! I am not falling for this, and neither you should. I want proof."
Conan abandoned his silent enrapturement in order to put an end to the altercate.
" Be carefull, Bayu. I don't want to be hexed, If I can avoid it."
Regardless of his role choosing to act as your detractor, the hot headed man had conviction and you started to appreciate him for it.
" It's the only way to know if she is telling the truth! ... What's wrong with you, Conan? Are you afraid of her? "
The barbarian felt challenged by his accusation and responded accordingly.
" I fear no one, but I don't want my will to be played with. I fought for my freedom and no evil magic will take it away from me, even if it's carrier means no harm with it."
His partial change of mind eased you, because it meant he had at least undestood your magical hability wasn't a choosen one you saw as gift and you weren't like the evil wizards seeking control of the land everywhere their gaze raised. Powered by the hability to enslave wills into madness, you still kept the simple life of a peasant. The humble dressing he had found you in was confirming proof of that, a dress in brown tones covering you to the knees. It was a bit too thight, what implied to the sight that you have had it for a long time.
Bussy as he had been observing you, he may have realized that you were telling the truth.
" If there was a way to give up my voice and become a normal girl, I would have already tried it. " You confessed as you advanced towards him untill being right in front of him. " I hope your beautifull eyes would find once more the mercy you had for me when you thought I was one."
He had a rigid stance, legs spreaded and his long sword pinned in the ground with the blade in perfect angle. His big hands held the hilt with gentle strenght, and in your persuasive attempt you laid one hand on top of his.
His eyes followed the gesture untill finding yours again and he couldn't help smiling.
" You don't need a song to charm me, so I will make a deal with you. Travel for with us for the rest of the day, and if by nightfall Bayu is not convinced, you will sing for us."
You smiled in approbal and he seiled the agreement by sheething his sword to later kiss the back of your hand. Once again, surprising attitude from a barbarian, but your delighted shock was interrupted by his friend voicing a problem.
" We don't have horses to spare. She won't mount mine, and Otli mounts with Zzeben ... "
Far from considering the situation a serious shortcoming, Conan's face sparkled with a sudden excitement.
" She will ride with me!"
For obvious reasons he seemed to ignore, you had to object regardless of your own feelings about it. Ridding untill nightfall with that handsome man sounded like a matter of dreams, but clearly, he had never tried to make way for a woman like you in his saddle.
" It won't work: you are a big man and I am a big woman. I would be too heavy for … "
His chuckles interrupted you. At least to him, the very sensical protest seemed to be quite amusing.
" You are not that heavy."
At that point you were unsure if he was clueless, messing with you, or attempting to sound nice in a way that made him look foolish.
He treated you as if you were a thin woman, or at least, as if he saw no difference.
" Very kind of you, … but yes. I am! "
His smile turned mischievous once the laughter stopped, but the hint of sweetness was intact.
Conan was the strongest warrior ever born in the Hyborian Age, extremely proud of his physical strenght. His measures weren't the ones of a common man, and since you haven't dimensioned that, he was eager to show you.
" No, you are not! "
And, with that, he picked you up, resting you over one shoulder to prove your weight meant nothing to him. Despite you protested in between chuckles, you offered no real resistance. His playfull display of strenght made you feel better, and suddenly, the idea of being abducted by a barbarian sounded a dreamy temptation. Conan didn't seem of that kind, but under his firm grip you happily gave away your will.
Thoughts of him entertained you for most of the way, slowly replacing the sorrow with the tender fires of a growing crush. Still hesitant of following his idea no matter how comfortable you felt in his arms, you decided to ride with Otli and let Zzeben go in the horse of Bayu.
Sharing the saddle with the smallest man of the group was less risky, and you two were already comfortable near each other. Encouraged by his friendly ways, you asked all sorts of questions. First, about him and his other two companions. He told you about his past serving the cruel wizard Yara, which explained why he seemed the better prepared of them all in what came to magic. Then he explained that the unusual quietness of Zzeben was in fact muteness, helping you understand his reaction to the tale of your cursed voice. As well, he pointed out that Bayu's distrust was a result of being exiled by a tyrant taking over the land he once lived in after he tried to iniciate a revolt.
As the sight of Conan kept enrapturing you, soon he became the focus of all your questions. He merely pretended not to hear you, but smiled to himself everytime something out of Otli's tales of him seemed to impress you.
By the time Bayu and Zzeben started to show their discomfort for sharing the horse, you couldn't keep avoiding him anymore. In order to give them a break, you had to mount the horse of Conan. Sharing the saddle with him could have been quite difficult, if he would have cared to ride in a civil way. He didn't care to appear improper and wasn't bothered by the constant squeezing of your body against his in the struggle to reclaim the space on a fair share, or by your hands grabbing him a little tightly for fear of falling.
Accepting the help of a barbarian implied some incidental shamelessness you would need to adapt to, specially in learning how to read it. He was a gentle savage, but a savage after all. For so, you were constantly reminding yourself of not trying to confuse his strange customs with signs of interest. Regardless of what his eariler saids showed, the only thing you had in common was your position standing in the way of Hissah Zul. The same danger stopping you from taking the opposite path and returning to your village was the reason that kept him moving. Fearing to be cause for one more tragedy if you dared to show up again, or casted out by the villagers once you would have returned without Cynthia, all you could do was following him. A beautifull girl beloved by everyone was dead because of you and self exile was the minimum penitence you could face for that.
She was laying undergrownd in a nameless hole in middle of the woods and you were ridding to the unknown with a handsome stranger. There was something inherently unfair in that, wrong even trascending the fact of her injust deceasing. Your fate should have been hers and you merely landed on it by chance. Not only she was beautifull, but a genuinely nice girl that was loveable beyond her beauty. A damsel worth rescuing that would have had everything in order to win over her hero.
It was a tale that didn't belong to you, a man that would only be yours under the effect of the song. Limit that you refused to trespass no matter what, understanding that what your curse created was not real love and not even true desire. Men who had insulted you and humilliated you because you weren't attractive enough to reward them had killed each other for you in feverish madness.
In a beautifull girl, your voice could have been perceibed as a dangerous power men should beware of. In you, only the cruel reminder that you would never experience the genuine admiration of a man.
Among your circunstantial companions you had at very least awakened a friendly curiosity. Decided to prove yourself usefull, you helped around as they prepared the camping spot near a river in your definitive stop for the day a few hours before nightfall. Conan went all on his own to hunt the dinner and the rest didn't waste time on sharing what they thought about the two of you.
As it was from the beggining, Otli turned out your best ally. Subtly and not s subtly, he shared you what he considered was usefull advice to win over Conan. More reticent, but way nicer than before, Bayu added that it was the sudden fondness of you that his friend adquired what secured your place there more than some will to help a stranger on the way. Through cheerfull gestures that the other two translated for you when needed, Zzeben showed to share a similar impression. His, however, came to you almost as blatant teasing.
You weren't going to discuss with them the reasons, but you couldn't get yourself to believe it. Not at least untill the sweet insistence of Otli forced you to comfront it.
" Conan has been involved with all kinds of women. Some were magical, others not, but I can assure you we have never meet someone like you. " He commented you as you revisited together the new supplies you have taken from the fallen enemy. " The closest we were was back in Ahl Shon-Bar, when we killed a river creature and its daughter turned into a beautifull girl we thought to have rescued. She almost lures him for the breeding ritual of her kind ... What remembers me that I must hope you haven't inherited your mother's appetite."
It made you chuckle, on spot occurence that had never occured to you.
" Worry not, I have human feeding habits. Maybe the fact that I don't depend on it to live is what has diminished my magical beauty." You joked in return, then dared to inquire him further. " ... The river creature, in its beautifull form. The one that Conan wanted ... How did she look like? "
His straightfoward answers turned into hesitation and he didn't need to speak for you to understand that he didn't want to say she was nothing like you.
" You are different, than her and most of the girls I have seen him chase, but that doesn't have to disencourage you ... "
Since Bayu and Zzeben had left to collect wood for the campfire, you were more direct with your replication knowing that all that would be said would remain between you.
" I've had enough of that, Otli. And I thought you would understand it better than everyone else ... Have women ever told you that you have a beautifull face as a condescending way to imply they would never be attracted to your body? That's how men approach me when I am not singing for them. "
You were presenting with irony the deepness of your insecurities, but he admitted to share a similar issue with amusing dismissal of the hurting aspect.
" They tend to flatter my manly beard, but I know they are thinking that my height is childish. Some praise on my intense brown eyes would be welcomed."
His confidence was very admirable, almost inspiring, and you followed the spirit of his saids in order to present your insecurities differently.
" My size makes me less feminine to the eyes of men who don't like being smaller than their woman. It must not be that different among heroes, even if Conan is huge enough to make me feel small. You have to admit that, for a rescued damsel carrying within herself a secretive danger, I don't look delicate."
He scratched his beard with impudence, making you smile.
" Still a lovely daughter of some villager, of one who took good care of her and kept her well fed. "
Very sweet counterargument, but you still found the way to rehuse it.
" I am also the daughter of a siren and my beach looks would lure no sailors. "
In full trust of him, you adjusted his hat and kissed his cheek. It should have worked as kind, thankfull clousure of the topic, but you found out he loved to have the last word.
" Conan is a barbarian, not a sailor."
You didn't capture the full meaning of his words untill you watched him return triumphally carrying the kill of his fortituous hunt, then proceeding to skin it with the resilent joy of a farmer in harvest season. In his absense you had told his friends that it was your intention to thank them by cooking a proper meal out of the meat and what could be found in the joint supplies. The news, as the sight of some already started steps in the process, got him very excited.
He started to tell you all about how much he missed a good meal, of the ones they would only be offered with on the villages, to what you started to tell him about the food in yours and what you liked to cook. Not only he didn't find the conversation boring, but contributed to it with enthusiasm. He had a big smile when you revealed to have found some goods from your small herbal garden that the soldiers stole and were recovered from their supply. Conan was genuinely happy guessing that you were all going to eat something that resembled the tastes of your home and his lovely reaction made you melt. How could a man so big and menacing be capable of rendering sweetness as such? In the answer you absorbed the core of Otli's advice, that also applied to everyone in that merry group.
Appearances were deceivefull to judge someone's character, or how pleasant their company was. They were different to what most would expect from men of their kind, but you felt good among them, and maybe they thought the same of you. As you worked on their promised reward, watching you cook was a source of amusement for them. At first you thought they were merely surveiling you, maybe fearing that you would try to poison them, but soon you figured out they watched you for the sake of it. You were not worried, neither your tasks disrupted, and you wondered if they were just adjusting to your presence.
Neither of them was a good cook, so observing you proceed with skill and creativity in order to come up with a dish out of the supplies you've gathered got them attentive in hopes of learning. For once, they would be eating something else apart from unseasoned roasted meat untill arriving to the next village. You have cooked them a stew, and as nice detail to go with it, campfire bread made on woodsticks.
Apart from vague sounds of enjoyment, nobody was saying a word during dinner. Despite being very glad to have caused a good impression, it made the situation a bit uncomfortable. Not only because it accentuated the fact that you weren't an habitual guest, but due to some of your particular sensibilities.
Better said, the fact that despite you were starving you were too ashamed to eat normally right in front of the man you fancied. Conversation would have helped to hide it or for you to forget about it, but instead of this you were struggling to keep a feminine performance of slow, controlled and meager eating around a bunch of men that were simply enjoying themselves with your food.
" It seems my cooking has properly compensated you, and since we have shared a meal, we are not strangers anymore. "
Conan smiled with his mouth full and you couldn't help giggling to the lovely sight. From all of them, he was the most voracious. Watching him eat was quite a lifefull spectacle making you wonder if abstaining from eating for the sake of his presence made any sense at all.
In between his chewing of the bites of meat in the stew, he answered your doubt with coincidental naturality.
" Rush before it gets cold, it's delicious!"
Not only he had paid enough attention to notice you were eating at a slower pace, he probably didn't realize it was a concious effort and didn't care about it. Restraining yourself wouldn't impress him more than the cooking did, and nobody around would tease your eating ways when the leader of the group seemed to have such good appetite.
You filled your spoon, took it to your mouth, and didn't wait untill finishing what you had already taken to sink it again in the bowl. Soon, you were the one smiling back with a mouth full before swallowing to tilt the recipient closer to your lips in order to drink some of the liquid.
As you relaxed and enjoyed yourself with the good meal you have prepared, Conan took the pot and served himself once more.
" ... More for me, and some more for you!" He cheerfully exclaimed, approaching to full your bowl when you were closer to empty it. " Food is strenght, and you need to recover from the mistreatments you have endured. Prisoners of Hissah Zul are not well fed, but under my protection you will never starve."
You accepted gladly, impressed by his practical wisdown. Not only you didn't have to fear causing a bad impression, but were kindly encouraged to eat as much as you needed.
" Conan's love for food is legendary, yet rarely reflected on his legend." Otli commented in order to provide you an insight. " There is nothing you could have offered him that would make him happier than this fine meal."
Spreaded comfortably right next to Zzeben, Bayu was content enough to join the conversation adding up from a more irreverent perspective.
" ... Well, there is something else, but then only him would get rewarded"
Silent grimaces of laughter from his companion joined his and Otli's chuckling as you tried hard not to spill out of shamefull shock. So worried of becoming the target of an easy gluttony joke, you never imagined they would be mocking a different kind of hungry.
Conan didn't laugh with them and stayed attentive to your reaction. His eyes stayed on you even if you could barely look at him, as if he tried to figure out more than your opinion of the joke.
" Her beauty, I wouldn't share, but I am no longer opposed to your plans. If I trust her enough to let her feed me, I can endure the charming test of her voice. "
The spoon fell inside your pot, following your consternation for what he had so naturally implied as well as for the suggestion.
" ... Do you want me to sing for you? "
He smirked in mischievous approbal, then explained himself.
" In any good feast dinner is followed of entertainment and your singing is something we will never forget ... How many other chances would we get of performing an impossible feat just for listening? "
The other three were enraptured on a similar excitement, since he made them realize of something completely new: they would get to proudly tell of how they survived listening the deathly song that sank ships into the abyss. By submitting themselves to the test in a controlled enviroment where you wouldn't abuse of the power, their chances of success were higher than in the legends.
If you would have wanted to kill them, you would have done it earlier.
" Vulkar lives on a seaside village full of fishermen ... Can you imagine what he will say when we tell him? " Otli encouraged the madness out of sudden as Zzeben nodded with approbal. " The next time we will see him, all of us would have something to brag."
For the first time since you meet them, Bayu agreed with him.
" We would be able to describe the experience, something the men of Hissah Zul can't do for their master. "
As safety measure, you established some conditions. For instance, they had to leave all their weapons away from instant reach in case the charm would make them fight. You believed that the soldiers of the sorcerer had resorted to violence out of the ambition, greed and cruelty of their violent hearts. Men used to kill in order to get what they wanted destroyed each other in the race to catch you, so you hoped better from the men standing against them.
Doing this for them was exposing a part of yourself you weren't up to share with anyone, what would ultimately make you feel vulnerable as they would be under your spell. Only after everyone was calm enough, saciated from thirst and hunger while starting to think about resting, you decided to grant their wish.
The four men rearranged their sitting to form a semicircle, leaving you a comfortable space to pace around without being too close to the campfire. Their faces already sparkled with anticipation, and as you started to sing, your eyes were staring deeply into Conan's. You sang of love and longing, of loss and despair, searching in him the inspiration for the artistic sense the situation required. His sweet smile turned blatantly foolish, and invisible force keeping him at the edge of calm and about to raise up so he could rush towards you like a sailor jumping off the ship.
You shifted to Bayu, whose eyes followed you hungrily like you would have never expected from him otherwise. Fearing for what the exacerbation of his normal temper could have caused, you eased him with a caress to the cheek before moving towards Zzeben. He watched you enraptured, lips parted in bliss as he stretched his arms in hopeless try to catch you. Using his short height in his advantage, Otli tried to embrace your hips looking up as if you were the most beautifull woman he had ever seen. You blew a kiss in the air for him, then did all the way back from behind them where they wouldn't easily see you.
Conan was the first one turning back, eyes glaring with an adoration that resembled love.
" Please, stop running from me! ... Be mine."
You stopped abruptly, looking down in an effort to hide your watery glance as everyone started to slowly awaken from the trance.
" You did it, even under the charm of the song you still remain the best men I have ever meet. "
The words haunted you for the rest of the night, making you swoon and rot all in once. The man calling for you wasn't Conan, but a shadow of him under the curse. A scene of the fantasies playing in your mind as you rode with him had came to life like the cruelest taunt. Of course, you couldn't also ignore that his reaction to Bayu's joke was a peculiar one up to interpretation. He wouldn't share your beauty like he shared the meal or the effect of your singing voice. Did he think you had any beauty to claim? Was he up to claim it for himself? Maybe you shouldn't take serious something he had said when he was being jested by a friend.
For good of bad, thinking of your crush kept away the thoughts of the horrors you had faced. Of the beloved father you would never see again, if he still lived by the end of the raid you couldn't witness completely before being dragged away. Of the evil sorcerer that wouldn't stop searching untill being able to use your power to destroy Conan. Far away in his castle he planned his evil deeds, but his armies were blind in the search for you and couldn't stop the barbarian from reaching you first. From the scene of the enemie's failure he dragged you, and in just one day, made you feel more alive than you have ever been.
Laying in the ground and curled up under a blanket you kept fearing and dreaming, struggling to sleep. Not because of the physical discomfort, but still awake on the weight of all the thoughts that didn't give you peace. You opened your eyes with resignation, glancing at the fire still burning for the comfort of the aslept and as light for the watcher.
Conan was watching you and not the fire or the surroundings in vigilance of any threats. By the adorable smile he had when you opened your eyes, you guessed he had been watching you for a long while.
" You are staring at me funny ... Is everything alright?"
Your voice sounded a bit hoarse due to the long silence, a great contrast with the notes of silk and honey he heard before.
" I can't help myself, you are the most beautifull sight the night provides."
It made you chuckle with skepticism as you touched your forehead with one hand rubbing under your closed left eye with the other to cast away the few drowsiness left.
" You must still be under the effect of the song, maybe because I sang for you more than the others ... Don't worry, Conan. It will fade soon."
He watched you roll untill you were laying on your back, position more comfortable to look back at him.
" I've seen enough sorcery to trust in my own feelings, you were beautifull to me way before that song. "
He sounded very convinced, but the context made it very hard for you to trust.
" Please, you don't need to keep flattering me. The human side of me acknowledges her limits. " You snarked, borrowing from Otli the carelessly confident remarks. " Have you looked at yourself? ... And have you looked at me? Otli won't want a woman that can crush him. Bayu joked around the idea of you being interested in me, so I wouldn't count on it. Zzeben is adventuring in midly impossible territory, his body is almost as impressive as yours ... And you, my friend? You have been chiseled by some warrior god. You choosing me out of your own free will it's so unlikely not even an oracle would see it coming."
He smiled as a man would enjoying the compliment of a woman he fancied, careless for anything else in what you had told him. Not because your feelings didn't worry him, but due to how spiritually distant he was to those. Doubting of yourself, finding your looks unfitting for his praise? Impossible for a worthy heir of the irresistible grace. She who had blessed him with the beauty, yet not cursed him with the cruelty, of the traitorous sirens.
" My god is Crom, and above anything, he despises cowards ... The men who made you lose faith in your beauty are cowards, every single one of them. "
Relaying in his trust on the heavy sleep of his friends resting nearby, he stood up and started pacing towards you.
" I've been chosen by Crom, to right the wrongs in our world. Only I can wield the Sword of Atlantis, destined to end Hissah Zul. It was given to me, with my mission of freeing the oppressed ... "
He kneeled in front of you, right in front your feet, giving you the impression that he was about to crawl untill being in all fours on top of you.
Not yet, not before being sure you welcomed him.
" ... I am not a coward and I despise injustice. What are you doing to yourself is a great injustice. "
His words warmed your heart like a caress and the proximity you were reaching inspired you with courage.
" ... Have you came to fix it, Conan? To right the wrongs of those who came before you? "
He smiled as he leaned closer slowly and never abandoning sight of your face, looking at you in adoration on a context that made it feel unapologetically genuine.
" It's in my destiny, ... and it will be my pleasure. "
He advanced untill you were laying helplessly underneath him. Never before have you felt so small, for that handsome giant of a man had you blissfully trapped under his heaviness. Yours seemed meaningless as his huge arms at your sides kept you still while his face approached closer and closer to yours. It was his turn charming you, to what you submitted yourself more quickly than what your thoughts could process.
" ... Conan, can I trust this is real? " You asked in whispers against his lips. " I will never forgive myself if you wake up in the morning regretfull to a side effect of ... It is my obligation to stop it now if ... "
His lips captured yours mid sentence, numbing your doubts in a slow, sweet kiss. Through it you surrendered completely to his tenderness, believing for sure that no magic could have caused what he was showing you. Something you had never experienced from men that your voice had hexed, so clearly hypnotized that you could tell their reactions weren't real.
That man was Conan proving you his truest fondness of you. Soon, he was moving beside you only so he wouldn't loose balance while holding you with one arm as his free hand would explore you. From cute caresses to your puffy cheeks to a full roaming of the corners of your body, he worshipped you in calm discovery of the secrets your beauty kept for him.
" You are soft, full, and so warm. Wherever my touch lands, it fits perfectly. "
It made you giggle as you felt his hand rest at the side of your hip, grabbing it softly to show you that he was able to get a full grip of it.
" That's because you have really big hands. Strong, yet so gentle. "
His touch sneaked deeper into that corner, with soft caresses to your tummy reaching to your belly buttom. Over the fabric of your dress he was still able to feel the texture of your stretch marks and his fingertips traced the patterns with curious interest.
" You have a work of art underneath this dress." He sweetly praised you. " ... Do you have a fish tail under water? What colors are your scales? "
His understandable disdain towards magic matter no longer when it came to you. Conan liked you for real, or otherwise he wouldn't have done the questioning in such nice way.
" It has never happened in river water, but I have never seen the sea. Not that I remember, at least. If someday I return, I will be able to tell if I got that from my mother too."
His turn of vigillance wasn't over, yet he curled up against you as if you both were getting ready to nap. You have been told that catching him off guard even during rest was an extremely hard task, to what you assumed nobody was going to get mad for finding him in blissfull resting state holding you as if his comfort completely relaid on it.
It was dreamy, perhaps too much for what both of you were accostumed, and he started to plan ahead.
" We can discover it together, I can take you to a seaside village and dive in the waves with you."
Conan and his companions reacting to you being on your period mid quest:
Warnings: This was written from my fem cis perspective, while medically-wise the symptoms described are quite standard. The " everybody loves you" feeling comes from how this guys tend to canonically interact with the lady of the week joining them for the episode.
Note: The show had a campy episode where they asisted a woman giving birth on the road, then chaotically took care of the baby. They are perfect for a period fic scenario.
-You have been riding with them for a while, a circunstantial companion joining their quest out of common interest. From the beggining it was clear that this wasn't the only reason why the group took you in, only the strongest. Your beauty had convinced them of your honesty, but they have came to like you as time went on. Conan above them all, effortlessly charming you with his unusually tender disposition, while the others followed as if they already expected something would flourish between you.
-They are nicer than most warrior men you have came to meet, but quite unprepared for this. Usually no lady sticks around with them for long enough to make them gain awareness of this aspect from the experience. This men have all have been casted out of their lands, or escaped rejecting slavery. Their permanence in villages or cities is very brief, always cautious of the enemy hunting them down, and so is their contact with the mundanity of life for a woman. Even if Karella joins them and steals from them from time to time, they haven't find themselves in this sort of situation with her.
-They are grown adults, they know it happens, they just never had to deal with a menstruating person before.
- Like a curse from Hissah Zul, your period came earlier than expected that month and you find yourself in need to inform your requirements for it to them.
-While the overal mood is of cluelessness on their part, they express it in different ways. Bayu is the one most likely to feel disgusted by the talk about it, while Conan probably sees it like a sickness they should help you go through and Zzeben feels sorry for you. Otli will bring back memories from the concubines of his old wizard owner that he may have had to care for when they were unavailable for the master's enjoyment. As the better qualified for the emergency, he works all the others out of the panic.
-Suddenly, the little man is bossing everyone around the camp for you. He becomes the lousy, annoyingly funny echo of your discomfort; sending Zzeben to get fresh cloth for your bleeding, Conan to warm you water and Bayu to find you something to wear.
-Speaking of what, since he so often picks on Bayu for friendly bickering, it occured to him trying to make of him the group's sacrifice for your mood swings.
-If there is something he remembers well from the concubines of Yara, it was being mistreated by them given he was the one man in that castle they weren't called to respect. You weren't like them and he knew it, but if you would need to yell at someone he would rather handle you the friend he loved to annoy for that. As the most awkward one with the situation, Bayu is also most likely to get in your nerves and Otli only has to exploit this a bit further in order to grant that chaotic tension he considers a safe outlet for your altered emotions.
-To his shocked disbelief, this also meant he was the first one to be indulged when the softening of your temper would call you to apologise.
-However, the privilege of the sweetest comforts rested on their leader. His friends would amuse you, support you or provide for specific things, but it was Conan who managed the most intimate approach. The one you actively seeked when you wanted to be comforted.
-Even since Otli explained him that your appetite could turn more voracious than normal, Conan becomes concerned with keeping you well fed.
-From personal experience, he knows hunger gets him on a terrible mood. Hearing that your state may stimulate hunger means he would want to be sure he has secured enough food to meet your circunstantial needs as well as the others.
-To some extent, it also acts as part of his strategy to win you over. Showing his skills not only as a protector, but a provider as well is something important in this unsafe legendary Age.
-If you are on the wild, he hunts for more than usual. A pridefull, smiling Conan arrives back to your camping spot with a comedically big prey and shows it to you like a cat that brings inside a dead bird while Otli wonders how are they supposed to cook that much meat for just one meal.
-He keeps you at his side when it's time to eat and always remembers to offer you more everytime he serves himself back, insisting that you must be their priority because this monthly sickness demmands more strenght from your body.
-A mere joke about your sweet cravings ends up changing the route of the next stop when Conan convinces everyone of reaching the nearest tavern. Best chance for everyone to get better food, what he suddenly considers then so you can find a dessert.
-Your companions are invested in the drinks, but once you are there they see you get very excited about a bowl of honey being used as sweetener for fruit.
-From that strange reaction you get some more friendly teasing self parodying their cluelessness.
-" Should we allow you to drink grog? "
" That's only for pregnancy, Bayu. Of course I can drink. "
-Soon, the tavern maids start flirting with Conan and all the table becomes subtly expectant of you. As his friends, they know it's a frequent scene where the barbarian cheerfully engages enjoying himself with the attention of the beautifull women and they fear for your reaction.
-Thankfull as you are for everything he has done for you, acting out jealousy is the last thing you need. And so, you dedicate yourself to enjoy your sweet keeping carelessness for what's happening in front of you.
-To everyone's surprise, Conan's response is polite, but not encouraging. He finishes smiling at you before asking them to bring you another sweet treat.
-Suddenly, his friends are laughing at you and you both are defending yourselves from it taking opposite perspectives.
-You try to deny it, he blatantly admits it.
-" You all, stop looking at me like that! I don't care, it's not like he can do anything to me in this state unless he wants the bed to look like a battlefield."
" I stick to my word, i think you are beautifull. To bed someone else while my beauty is moon sick would be acting like a wizard that looks down at his unavailable concubines … I hate wizards. "
-He has no shame for letting you know he fancies you as he knows you do him, making you feel good at a time when you don't feel particularly charming.
-While everyone is nice to you, his gestures have an extra layer of care that comes from your mutual infatuation and this is why you seek his comfort above anyone's. Why you are not afraid of letting the intimacy escalate in ways you wouldn't consider otherwise.
-Overal pain and cramps tend to worsen for you at night, and in a particularly bad one you snuggled against him begging in whispers for him to help you out.
-Never before had the cimmerian hero been asked a similar thing, but he can't resist your soft plead or the sight of you in pain. With patience and kindness, he follows your instructions for pain relieving massages on your swollen lower abdomen and other sore parts of your body.
-His big hands learn quickly where it's good to press and where to be gentle, making you feel so safe and relaxed that you find no reason for shame.
-Despite the tension of your attraction remains there, the intimacy reached is not inherently sexual. He cares for making you feel better, getting to touch you is an unexpected perk of the process.
-" Mmm, I like this part of the treatment."
" I will make it up to you, once I get better I will give you a good massage. You never stretch those great muscles of yours, Conan! That must bring you pain on ocassions."
