Discover Top Posts Tagged with #fallen crown

MADNESS | YANDERE!XAVIER x READER | LOVE AND DEEPSPACE

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~ Join my Patreon to get early access to my works, exclusive stories and free commissions!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warning: YANDERE | Violence | Captivity A/N: This idea was marinating for the entire duration of the event tbh like Game of Thrones!Xavier are you actually joking i'm gonna keel over

Philos was dying.

Beyond the castle’s high black windows, the sky was illuminated by falling stars. Their trails burned slowly and sadly across the void, bright and beautiful signs of the end.

Shards of light struck the distant city walls in bursts of gold and ash. Every so often, you could feel the vibration deep under your feet, the low groan of stone collapsing somewhere. Such damage had been done that could never truly be undone.

It was cold, bone-deep cold. Even by a hearth, there was little comfort to be had.

For three days, the Mad King had sealed himself in his private chambers. The heavy doors of carved obsidian remained shut, and he himself had been silent. You hadn’t been permitted to leave either of course. The sturdy, ornate locks on your own doors were proof enough that your fate was tethered to his. At least, he considered it to be.

Servants had stopped coming, and you were isolated. This was the first time you had dared venture the halls in a while. They smelled strongly of dust and old candle smoke. At least you were still alive, at least within these walls, the ruination outside could not touch you yet.

The magical barrier that had been erected could hold for millenia, or so you had been told. Yet it was its own kind of torment, being trapped here. Watching as this once bright and beautiful kingdom, shattered into pieces before your very eyes.

You told yourself you wouldn’t go to him. You told yourself you could endure.

But in truth, the suffocation was worse than the danger beyond the walls. Worse than the fear you had begun to feel towards him.

And so you found yourself pushing the great doors open, their hinges screaming against the frame. A little hope was in your heart; if you two abandoned this place, abandoned Philos itself, perhaps you could save yourselves. Start anew, somewhere across time and space.

Remaining here like sitting ducks, spirits dwindling day by day, was no way to survive.

The chamber beyond the door was dim, lit only by the flicker of dying fire. Tattered draperies hung heavy over the windows, keeping the ruin outside at bay, and any chance of light from coming in. In the far corner, half-slumped on the throne he’d dragged into his bedchamber, was Xavier.

He looked like a statue left to weather in the rain. His crown — broken, its arc split clean through — sat discarded at his feet. The silver of his armor was tarnished, dented, and beneath it his shirt clung damply to his skin.

When he finally lifted his head, the sight of you carved something raw into his expression.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he rasped. His voice was low, hoarse, as though he’d been speaking to no one but himself for days. “Go back to your chambers.”

You crossed the floor anyway. “Is it a crime for me to want to see my husband?”

That pulled a bitter laugh from him, and it didn’t reach his eyes as he repeated, firmly this time: “Go back to your chambers.”

“Why? And refuse to see or speak to the one I love?” you asked, “I do not fear you. I don’t believe you would ever hurt me. It would break you to do so.”

He rose slowly and with a gait unsteady, like the ground itself wasn’t holding still beneath him. When he came close, you saw the dark hollows under his eyes, the fine tremor in his hands. His long, ashen blonde hair framed a face that had become more pallid than usual, more gaunt.

While still beautiful, there was something that seemed more aged about him now. A weariness that should never have come so soon.

“What have you come for, then?” Swallowing tightly, you spoke with honesty: “I have come to ask, sincerely…to leave this place. Of course, not alone. With you by my side. We must give ourselves the chance!”

His pupils sharpened, just briefly, before his eyes became heavy again.

“What a foolish request. You will perish if you leave,” he said, as if each word cost him. “Do you think I do not realize it? Do you think I would ever allow it?”

“Xavier—”

“I must protect you. I must.” His hands caught your shoulders, pulling you close until you could feel the shudder in his breath. “I can keep you here. I can close every door, lock every window. I can keep you.”

Xavier’s eyes closed, his brow crumpling with an internal agony, “The barrier…it will hold. Every mage in my kingdom poured their power into it. Even if the planet collapses, we will be safe.”

You tried to pull back, but his grip only tightened.

“Sometimes…I fear what I may do to you myself, yes…but knowing you are here…knowing that…”

He trailed off. Outside, another star fell, and struck the earth with a blinding, burning flash. Inside, his arms locked around you like the last fortress in a kingdom already fallen.

“You’re mine,” he whispered into your hair. “Everything else will burn…but we will remain.”

And you knew he meant it. Yet still, you couldn’t understand.

“I would rather perish…than live like a bird in a cage…” At the word ‘perish’, you felt his hold stiffen. “Don’t—” “It is the truth, my king…” you breathed with a shudder, tears welling in your eyes against his shoulder, “...I can hardly stand it anymore—”

“I saw it,” he cut you off, voice low and fraying. “Over and over. The moment the light leaves your eyes. The moment I can’t reach you. The stars fall, the city burns, and you…” His jaw clenched hard, his breath catching. “You’re gone.”

You felt his hands tremble against your arms.

“Visions,” you whispered. “They’re only—”

“They’re not only anything.” His voice cracked, sharp as the splintered crown. “Every one of them comes true. Every one. And you think I’d just let it happen?”

He all but stumbled back, as if retreating from the thought itself, before his knees gave way and he sank to the floor. His gauntlets scraped against the stone as he clutched at the hem of your clothes like a drowning man.

“Stay,” he begged, his forehead pressing into your stomach. “I can fight anything, anyone. But I can’t fight fate if you run from me.”

The heat of the hearth did nothing for the cold crawling up your spine now, an uneasiness you could now see clearly the reason for.

Even in peaceful days, there had been murmurs among the people. Whispers of ‘madness’, with regards to their king. Of course, to dare speak it aloud would land anyone on the block. But…now you began to understand why they had said so. Why, in hushed voices after hours, even his servants themselves had warned you to leave while you still could.

To abandon this royal life, to return to your family in the humble village where you’d had your beginnings, never dreaming back in those days that you might one day be chosen to wed the king himself.

Thinking of it now, pained you. Philos was destined to fall, but if you had stayed, you might have spent these final moments with your mother and your father. Not in the gripping hands of a man who had made you his prisoner long before he’d had such a good excuse for it.

You bent slightly, your fingers hovering above his hair, wanting to comfort him, but afraid. Still, you laid your palm against his locks, stroking slowly, soothingly.

“Xavier…I can’t be your prisoner. That is not love…”

His arms cinched tighter around your waist, the metal of his armor biting into your sides. “You’re not my prisoner,” he said, and the lie was so soft you almost believed it. “You’re my reason.”

You tried to step back. This time he let you slip free, but only far enough to make it to the threshold.

Your hand had just touched the great obsidian door when the sound tore through the chamber. The long hiss of steel leaving a scabbard.

“Even still, you wish to leave?”

You turned. The dim glare through a part in the curtains shone a streak along the length of his blade, catching in the jagged inlays of black and silver. He held it one-handed, point angled toward the floor, but the tension in his shoulders told you it could be raised in a heartbeat. Pointed at you.

His once pained face was a mask of calm over something raw and feverish beneath.

“If you step through that door,” he said, “the vision becomes truth. And I won’t allow it.”

Unbelievably, he began to walk toward you. He seemed like a stranger as he did.

The rawness in his eyes had frozen over into something ice cold. His steps were slow and patient, the gait of a man who knew you were at his mercy. That there was nowhere for you to run.

You backed away instinctively, your heel catching on the rug and almost causing you to tumble.

“W-wait—”

The point of the sword lifted, and suddenly it was there, the cold kiss of steel resting against your chest, just over your heart. Poking your skin, fit to pierce at any moment.

You froze, the air catching painfully in your lungs. You searched his face, desperate for any crack of hesitation. But there was none.

“Do you think I wouldn’t?” he asked quietly, tilting his head just slightly, as though genuinely curious. “Do you think I wouldn’t do anything to keep you from walking through that door?”

Your back found the wall before you realized you’d been moving. The tapestry there muffled the chill of the stone, but it might as well have been ice. The pressure of the blade increased just enough to let you feel the point beneath the layers of your gown. To cause a little pain, to make you whimper.

“This is not you…” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You wouldn’t…”

His lips curved faintly. Not quite a smile, you couldn’t call it that, but more the shadow of one. A sinister imitation.

“I would rather kill you myself, and join you in death, than let you go to that fate. Better to choose our end than let the stars tear you from me again.”

The words carried the certainty of a royal decree. There was no doubting he meant them.

Tears blurred your vision as you choked on your horrified reply. “It isn’t my choice at all!” you sobbed, the sound raw, torn from your throat like it was painful, “I would have never chosen any of this! I would have never agreed to wed you if I had known…if I had known you would lock me away like some pet!”

Xavier’s mouth curved, and he laughed as soon as you finished. In a sickly warm way, mockingly.

“Oh, my love,” he murmured, shaking his head, “you thought it was ever your choice?”

He took a slow step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “The moment I set eyes on you, in that little mud-stained slum you called a home…you were mine.”

The blade at your chest eased back, but only because he no longer needed it to hold you there. The weight of his words kept you rooted in place. You searched his face for some flicker of jest, some scrap of gentleness you could cling to, some remnant of the Xavier you once thought he was.

But the certainty there was unshakable.

Your strength gave way, and you sank to your knees. The cold stone bit through the fabric of your gown, but you hardly felt it. He lowered with you, one knee on the floor, his free hand tilting your chin upward until your tear-streaked gaze met his.

The sword slid down to rest beside him, forgotten for the moment.

His fingers brushed your cheek, and the touch was gentle and reverent, as though you were the most fragile, precious thing in all worlds, in all timelines. He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he said softly when you parted. “Look at me. Look close. Can you not see it?”

And you did look. You looked right into the sharp, burning depths of his eyes. But all you saw was madness.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!