Naga!Pythor x Reader

The Deadest of the Dead

“But wasn’t he the model Anacondrai? There’s so many poems and things, a star named after him, a huge statue in the Ninjago Museum of History.”

Pythor made a disgusted face, “No, he was not.”

He reached beside the couch and picked up a long staff. A golden snake twisted round the center pole, a violet orb in its jaws. The Anacondrai staff- as ancient as the first Spinjitzu master.

He motioned for you. You came to him.

“Give me your hand,” He commanded, sitting down his drink.

Again, you did as you were told, his fingers sliding smoothly over your wrist and holding it steady as he pressed the top of the staff to the back of your hand. It burned for a moment, and you jumped back with a yelp, the Anacondrai symbol of a curled snake glowing white on the back of your hand. The glow slowly faded, leaving a pale imprint on your skin.

“That will let you into the palace,” He said, “And it shows that you belong to me.”

“That I belong to you?” you said indignity, but as soon as you heard the words out loud a blush crept over your face. The reaction surprised you, and not understanding why, you turned away from him.

He was looking out the window, not catching your flushed cheeks, only your annoyed tone, “Yes, for the time being you do.”

There was a knock on the door, a young Venomari man entering. Stiff and stoic, he bowed, making a sweeping motion with his foot, the way to greet an Anacondrai, and spoke in Serpentine, “Your highness, the Generals requested that you dine with them this morning.”

“Fair enough, Lizaru. Tell them I’ll be there shortly,” He turned and motioned at you, “And find a servant that will bring a breakfast for her, something hearty but nice,” He looked back out the window solemnly, “Is your father still bent on wanting the fangblades to awaken the Devourer?”

Lizaru glanced at you, but spoke, “Yes. The Serpentine could control it, Pythor. They did once. The humans need to reap what they sewed. Taste the venom they buried.”

Pythor’s eyes were lost in thought, gazing out, “They barely controlled it once.”

“He is discouraged by your opposition of it anyhow. Discuss it with him later, I must be off,” Lizaru glanced at you once more and exited.

Pythor slithered back over and collapsed on the couch with a groan, “How I hate having long and falsely pleasant conversations with the Generals over meals. It makes me nauseous. That was Lizaru, by the way, Acidicus’s son and Advisor. Second in command of the Venomari. Start keeping those straight. Those two are my least favorite. I’ll introduce you to all the others- that I despise slightly less- as you meet them.”

“You seem to relish your job,” You said sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes, “Do you know how to put up hair besides just tying it? I’m in a bit of a rut as far as style goes.”

You grinned slightly, "Do you not have a stylist, Pythor?"

"Obviously not."

You walked over to him and sit on the arm of the couch, untying the band on his hair. You combed out his hair in your hands, watching the violet in the mocha strands catch the light. 

"Like braids? Do you like braids?" you asked, "One of the girls at the boarding school taught me."

"A bit feminine but that's fine. Boarding school?"

"It was that or the orphanage" you said with a growl. 

Pythor paused and started to turn to look at you. You pulled his hair to make him face front again, starting to finish off a French braid, “So where’s your advisor?”