To Kneel at a Mortal Throne || Gojo x reader

Chapter one

A/N: HIII GUYS IM so sorry ik i was gonna start this way early but i got caught up w some work. i had a subpoena and my life was in danger i got some death threats but overall its fine. we're BACK IN BUSINESS BABY. AND IM SOO EXICTED FOR THIS ONEEE

Third person POV:

You are meant to be a queen. Everyone tells you this.

Your father has told you this, ever since you could remember. The maids have told you this, dressing you up in silk everyday. It has been said so many times - your tutors, by potraits of dead women hung in the hall who were there in your position decades ago - who married who they were told to, lived how they were told to, and died when they were told to.

In your country, there's a rule. 

When a princess turns eighteen years of age, she acquires a knight. The rule - as old as the mountains, older than the throne your ancestors bled for. Not a guard, or a soldier because they are replaceable. But a knight? A knight stays. He's bound by oath and honor and a promise that breaks a man if he breaks it. 

Or so the stories say.

You have heard the stories. Everyone has. About the heir of the Gojo clan.  About the man they call a god. They say he walks through battlefields and the blood does not touch him - they say he has never lost, hell he has not even bled - not once, not ever.

When he walks, the commanders themself surrender in fear - not because they are coward. But out of sense, because to raise a sword against that man is to commit suicide yourself. They say he has the infamous six eyes - once in a lifetime. And he looks like the god himself carved him. Like they took their finest marble and their sharpest chisel and their most patient hands and they made him. His hair, white as winter and his jaw, sharp enough to be a blade itself.

They say a lot of things. You thought it was poetry. Exaggeration. Because all of these exists in fantasies and fairytales. Stories that grandmothers tell their children to scare them into behaving.

And then you saw him. 

Every word was insufficient. 

It's your eighteenth birthday today. You were woken up earlier today, by maids rushing you in your finest of silk today. Their hands were trembling as they braided your soft, luscious hair - it was your big day today. Because today, you will have a knight sworn in.

And his name is Gojo Satoru.

Your father waits for you at the entrance of the great hall. He stands stiff-backed, his crown sitting heavy on his brow, his ceremonial sword strapped to his hip. His eyes are fixed on the door ahead, maybe a little tensed - or you have figured this to be his natural persona. You feel uneasy, and you turn your head to look at your little brother Yuuji - just a few paces behind,, his pink hair brushed and tamed for once in his life. He is wearing his best suit today, deep crimson with gold embroidery along the sleeves, and his eyes are gleaming.

Of course they are.

Your brother loves you. 

He catches your grin and gives yo a full toothed grin. 'You'll be amazing' he mouths, and shows you a thumbs up. You want to believe him, you wish to be fifteen again. When everything was simple, and you ate cake. But you are eighteen today, and today a knight will take your hand and sworn his life, and something tells you nothing will be simple again. You turn your head back at the entrance.

The door begins to open.

And heaven itself opens with them.

Light pours through the widening crack - molten, golden light emanating like the dawn of a morning, when the sun is in it's most beautiful phase. It spills across the floor like water, like paint on a marble and climbing the marble pillars, setting the crystal chandeliers ablaze.

The crowd does not breathe. Because Gojo Satoru walks in.

He steps in. As if the hall has been empty his whole life and only now with his foot upon the stone, does it remember what it was built for. His shoulders are broad - like the broad that can hold the weight of the skies. His hair flows beneath his headpiece like waterfall - effortlessly, and white of a color of a swan, and they flow in the air - like they know how beautiful they are and they don't care. His headpiece only leaves his eyes and mouth uncovered. And the color of his eyes is the shade of blue, that you perhaps haven't seen -. It's almost as if the air bends itself with every step it takes, commanding the the very room he walked in and every head dared not to look up.

He is built like a god who decided to walk among mortals and forgot to make himself smaller. 

You didn't realize you were holding your breath either. 

When he reaches close enough, but very far. He kneels down.The sound of his knee against the stone is the loudest thing you have ever heard.

He draws the sword from his hip, it's silver and shiny, and it's a rare sword - you could tell. Because you learnt to hold swords from a very young age, and there used to be a collection of ancient swords nobody could use - that were hung on the walls as myths. You remember staring at them as a child, pressing your nose against the glass cases, wondering what kind of hands had last held them. It was one of those, sharp, ancient design of two fishes embedded into it and G.S. initial carved into it at the very front.

He offers it to you first, laying it flat across his palms. 

"I vow my loyalty." he begins. The hall is quiet now, but you could feel a thumping in your heart,"I vow my sword. I vow my life, every breath that I take from this moment forward, to protect you."

There's a high priest, standing beside your father. He steps forwards,"By the blood of the ancestors of this kingdom - do you swear? Do you swear to protect her until your last breath?"

He taps the flat of the ceremonial blade against Gojo's right shoulder.

"Do you swear?"

"I swear."

He taps it against the left shoulder now.

"Do you swear?"

"I swear."

The priest raises the blade again, and taps it on his head. "Then by the gods and the ancestors who watch this land, you are her knight, from today till the end."

The blade lowers.

And Gojo Satoru looks up, leaning up slowly. His eyes never leaving yours once, the intense blue of his gaze pierces through you - through silk and skin, and you suddenly tear your gaze away for the nerves settling into your bones.

The crowd erupts into applause, and the sound becomes deaf to your ears, because you cannot hear or you do not wish to. And you know, Yuuji is whistling through his teeth, clapping the loudest. Gojo leans in, just a little - almost an inch - his breath is hot against your ear and the proximity makes you shiver,"Happy birthday, princess."

Then he stands beside you, facing the crowd - they are still applauding and will continue to do so for another minute. You look at Yuuji's proud face, he's happily jumping in his place almost like he has been handed a candy. 

But you cannot hear them.

Happy birthday, princess.

Happy birthday, princess.

You have turned eighteen today, happy birthday princess. You are meant to be a queen, everyone has told you that. And the crown is heavy, very heavy but you don't understand - you know it - but you don't really understand it yet.

Because queens are not born.

They are made.

You think this is a love story?

Read the first line again.

-----

A/N: so...thoughts? :D do y'all know where this is leading?