It's in the Blood, This is Tradition. - Chapter 1: This is Tradition.
+18 MDNI
word count - 1.6k
summary - your first meeting with Titus
content - fem!reader x titus danforth. age gap (reader is late 20s/early 30s), forced marriage, arranged marriage, canon typical violence, satanism.
a/n: the first chapter is here!!!!! i've been working on this for a little bit. hope you like it!
You never wanted to get married.
Not when your family was part of an ancient satanic death cult.
Getting married when you’re part of the cult of Le Bail can get… complicated. You’ve got two options when choosing a spouse:
Option 1: You marry someone outside of the cult.
Congratulations! You’ve just fallen in love with someone the old fashioned way. Whether it be a classic meet-cute while grocery shopping or a night out at a bar, you’ve just met the love of your life!
First comes love, then comes marriage! Maybe.
If you can make it down the aisle, you’ve still got the wedding night to contend with. Because there's a 50/50 chance that, after the wedding, the love of your life will be chosen for ritualistic sacrifice to the devil himself!
That’s right! If it tickles Mr. Le Bail's fancy, your spouse could be hunted for sport by your entire family!
There is the possibility of that NOT happening, of course, but why would you ever want to take the chance?
Option 2: You marry into one of the other families, also in the death cult.
If you marry within your circle, you avoid the hunt!
The eligible bachelors in said circle, though? Repulsive. Psychopathic. Losers.
Absolutely fucking not.
If those were your options? You refused to play the game.
Or… you thought you could refuse. Your father and Chester Danforth decided differently.
“More power,” your father had said. “More money,” he said. “Do your duty,” he said.
Duty your ass. It’s your duty to be sold off like a brood mare? Fuck off.
Unfortunately for you, it was made very clear what would happen if you refused or tried to pull anything to get the wedding called off; your bloodline would be eliminated. Like, poof into a cloud of gore and viscera kind of eliminated. And as much as you’d love to see your pig of a father explode, you’d be dooming not only yourself but your entire family. You weren’t that cruel. Or stupid.
So you agreed, very reluctantly. And not without a healthy dose of bitching and moaning.
What you couldn’t understand, was what the Danforth’s stood to gain from this union. Your family was wealthy and powerful, sure, but you were one of the lower families. The Danforth’s held the high seat.
There was nothing your father could promise them that they didn’t already have. And it's not like there weren’t more willing women to pop out a couple heirs for them. So why you?
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You were gazing out the window of the town car, looking at the sprawling Danforth estate. Your soon to be home. On your way to meet with your soon to be in-laws and him.
Titus Danforth. Your lovely husband to be. A loser-manchild with major daddy issues, 20+ years your senior. He was a brute, who reveled in violence a little too much for your liking.
He wasn’t… unattractive. If you were being honest with yourself, he was a total smokeshow. But his dogshit personality and poor social skills destroyed any kind of interest you could have in him.
You’d only met him a couple of times. When you were first introduced, it was incredibly awkward and offputting; he had gripped your hand so hard, you thought it might break. He hadn’t said a word, just stared at you, like your presence made him physically ill.
And don’t get you started on the… extracurriculars. You’ve never seen him partake in a hunt but you’d always heard about them. He’s brutal and vicious. Reveling in the pain and fear of others. To him, torture’s a hobby. Some people enjoy golf, Titus enjoyed butchering people. The thought of being married to that made you want to walk into oncoming traffic.
You were considering throwing yourself from the car, when your father nudged you. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you turned to him with a glare. He was getting what he wanted, why couldn’t he just let you wallow in peace?
“This marriage is an honor. Do not spit in the face of Mr. Le Bail.” your father grumbled out.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Papa.” you mutter out, rolling your eyes.
He grabbed your wrist painfully, “I mean it. Mr. Le Bail gave this marriage his blessing. You will not ruin things with your ungrateful attitude.”
You rip your hand from his grasp, giving your father a look that could kill.
“I’m going through with it, aren’t I?” you sneered.
Your father scowled at you, fire behind his eyes. He’s about to retort when the car abruptly stopped in front of the main house. As much as you were dreading this moment, at least you’d be able to get away from him.
The driver opens the door, letting your father out first. You steel yourself, plastering on an expression of cool indifference, one that doesn’t betray your true feelings of hatred and disgust. Hell forbid you show a real emotion. You can hear your father exchanging pleasantries with the Danforths when the driver gives you his hand to take. You step out of the car, smoothing out your skirt. Here goes nothing.
“-and this is my daughter, of course. The future Mrs. Danforth.” your father laughs out, winking.
Chester Danforth lets out an unamused huff, obviously unimpressed by your father.
“Hello.” you say simply, giving a clipped nod. Looking over each member of the family carefully.
Chester was appraising you, like you were cattle. He seemed as unimpressed with you as he was with your father. You couldn’t help but think; if you were so disagreeable to him, why the fuck is he marrying you off to his son?
Ursula gave you a tight smile, it not quite reaching her eyes. She was sizing you up, trying to decide if you were worthy of the title of lady of the house.
You couldn’t decide if you wanted her approval or not. On one hand, having it would certainly make things easier for you. On the other, you didn’t want to be agreeable to them. The stubborn part of you wanted to make things as difficult as possible. To make them regret this.
Then there was Titus. His eyes were shielded by black sunglasses, making you unable to get a read on him. You could definitely feel his stare, that was for sure. The intensity was suffocating.
You were saved by Chester, clearing his throat.
“Well, Titus, why don’t you and your… fiance, go become properly acquainted with one another.” Chester, saying fiance like it was a bad taste in his mouth.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea! Perhaps you could take her for a walk around the grounds?” Ursula at least tries to sound cordial.
Titus gave his head a tight nod, holding out his arm to you. You’re frozen for a moment, staring at him blankly.
Realistically, you knew you’d have to be alone with him eventually. You just didn’t think it would be so soon.
You clear your throat, hesitantly looping your own arm around his. He flinches slightly, tensing under your touch.
Titus drags you along, while your father and the other two Danforth’s head into the mansion.
The silence between the two of you is deafening. All you can hear is the crunch of the gravel under your feet, Titus’ heavy breathing, and your own heartbeat. You try to focus on anything else. Anything other than the man next to you; a man whose hands have broken, beaten, and taken countless lives. A man who seems to find your company less than tolerable.
“The weather's… pleasant today.” Titus says, his voice strained.
You cringe at the painful attempt at small talk, only answering in a non committal “mhm”.
Titus relaxes only slightly, clearing his throat. “Do you like golf?”
This was painful. Actually painful. You need to just lay it all out; strip away all pretense, show him where you stand. There’s no reason to pretend like all of this isn’t beyond fucked, not when you both were about to trapped in this “marriage”.
You stop abruptly, removing yourself from him. Titus furrows his brow, halting next to you.
“Let’s cut the shit, shall we? This whole situation is fucked. Our fathers arranging this marriage? Barbaric. What is this, the 1800s?” Titus looks like he’s about to interrupt, but you don’t give him the chance. You’re on too much of a roll.
“Listen, it’s very obvious to me that you find this whole thing to be…unpleasant. I know I do. Truthfully, I don’t like you. And I can tell you’d rather be doing anything else. So let's just do what’s required of us for this ‘union’ and then avoid each other as much as possible. Deal?” You take a breath, sticking your hand out to shake.
His eyes are still obscured, but you can tell you’ve surprised him. Mouthing gaping like a fish. You shake your hand out to him, giving him a pointed look that says “well?”
A stiff smirk briefly makes its way to Titus’ face. It unnerves you.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” he says, cold and calculating. Like he’s reassessing you. He grips your hand tightly in his, rubbing small circles with his thumb.
You recoil at both the term of endearment and his touch, pulling your hand from his.
“Right…” you narrow your eyes briefly before walking back towards the estate. Titus not far behind, stalking behind you like you’re prey. Hunting you. Making a chill run down your spine.
He’s just how you remember him. Just as… off. His presence just as unsettling.
You didn’t know how you were going to get through this engagement. Through the wedding. Through this whole marriage.
Satan help you.
