Naga!Pythor x Reader

Rat Poison

You snickered along with Coral, standing and bidding them farewell.

You excited the room, out into the quiet of the hallway, passing no one but a Venomari patrol as you trekked back to Pythor's room.

The sitting area was lit sparsely by moonlight, and his door was still closed. With a sigh, you walked to your room, walking into the bathroom and dropping your shawl on the laundry bin. You brushed your hair out, and sighed, looking at your reflection.

You went back into the bedchamber, stopping at the foot of your bed, where a box caught your attention.

It was tied with a simple bookstring, a note pinned in the middle, displaying nothing but an elegantly penmanshiped heart with a swooping P underneath.

You grinned, anxiously pulling the string loose. The lamplight jumped off the patterns of the royal violet revealed, a folded garment pressed flat. You pulled it free, and it draped to the floor to reveal its form as a cloak, black and gold markings snaking down the back, and across the shoulder.

You pulled it smoothly across your shoulders, the high collar brushing against your jawbone. The garment had buttons in several places, allowing you to fashion it in different ways around you, and it was smooth and sturdy, like leather, but not quite as stiff. Despite the slight chill of the room, you were completely comfortable wherever it was draped over you.

You paused. It was odd, in a human sense, a bit bizarre, but you thought off all the times you'd read about kings hiring armies just to hunt an Anacondrai for its skin. It's worth was almost incomprehensible- it was better than any armor, and elemental-resistant on top of that. It was only malible for less than a day after coming off the bearer, you had to wonder if Pythor had made this himself.

A rather goofy smile twisted your lips, and unable to help yourself, you walked out of your room, and to his, gently knocking on the door.

"I'm glad to see you're not using the balcony anymore," his voice rumbled from behind the door, mildly groggy.

You took that as an invitation.

He was on his stomach, only one of his eyes visible-head tilted on his pillow. The rest of his tail was coiled immaculately around him so it would fit on his round bed and under his heated blanket.

"Oh, good, it fits you," he chuckled, "I'm horrid when it comes to sewing."

"This is far from 'horrid'," you assured, smiling, "You did wonderfully."

He gave a mutter of appreciation for the comment, his eyes closed again.

You sit down on the edge of his bed, mesmerized as you traced the vibrancy of his new scales. Your cloak was a beautiful color, but it didn't shine with the brilliance that he did now.

"Are you okay now?" you asked quietly.

He nodded against his pillow. His coils shifted and slithered, hooking around your back and pulling you to his torso. He fit his head into the curve of your shoulder, a black-scaled hand on the curve of your hip.

"Tell me if I'm being innapropriate, you're just so wonderfully warm," he murmured sleepily into your shoulder.

"No, no, you're fine," you said, winding your fingers through his hair.

He touched the cloak, "I didn't know if you would find it repulsive in a human sense, either."

"I love it. It's one of the loveliest, most thoughtful things I've ever gotten," you insisted, "Besides, I live with Serpentine, and I've been wearing your skin for a while anyway," you chuckled.