Marvel Preferences and Imagines (Taking Requests)

Not Every Damsel is in Distress

You sat on the crumbling edge of your tower that you had first constructed in 300 AD. You for some reason had never aged. Maybe it was revenge for your previous actions, but that didn't make sense. You had only killed what 30...40 princes trying to rescue you. They didn't seem to understand that not every damsel that they meet needs, or in your case, wants help. At first, It was an evil doing, but you quickly realized that you were doing their kingdoms a favor. They were the type of princes that were arrogant, self-centered people that made their subject feel less than them.

You stared out into the sunset, its purple and orange tones filling your room with much-needed happiness. It wasn't like you didn't enjoy punishing people, oh wait that was your exact reason for sorrow. You never wanted to be Karma's slave, but that wasn't really your choice. It was the Enchantress's fault you were like this. She had cursed you for not seeking revenge on a person that slighted her. It wasn't your responsibility, but nooo, of course, she had to punish you.

As the sun disappeared beneath the mountains, you walked over to your 15th-century sheets. You laid your head down about to rest when you heard voices coming from a nearby valley. You couldn't make out any voices, but you prayed to whatever god, deity, or power that could stop them from coming to your tower. You put out all of your candles in hope that they would just continue on their way

*                                                                          *                                                                     *

You woke up with a smile on your face for the first time in a long time. Was it the birds chirping outside? Maybe, but they do that every day. You got dressed in a 14th-century dress, which was a gift one of the princes was carrying. It's sliver linning match perfectly with the ruby silk, making you look like a princess. 

You walked down the stairs, past your thousands of books that reviled even the best of libraries. Most of them were old, but every year you would get a new shipment from your best buddy, the witch. It was probably her way of saying, 'Sorry I cursed your life, and made you suffer for all eternity.' That didn't matter though, you knew that if she ever showed up at your footstep you would not hesitate to hurt her so bad she would have wished she was dead.

As you reached the bottom of your stairs, you prayed that the visitors had not noticed your huge tower. However, you soon heard voices, so that thought went out of the window. You watched as three men tried to pick up the sword you had created in a stone to remind you of one of your favorite characters, King Author.

"This is like Thor's hammer," a short-haired Italian said trying to pick up the sword. You grew giddy at the god's name. You had read so many books about Norse mythology, so you knew about Mjolnir.

"Tony, it's not yours to touch. Please stop" a timid voice said. It came from a brown-haired man who was standing by the door, trying to shrink into the shadows.

"Loosen up, Banner," the first man said, still trying to lift the sword.

"Bruce's right, Tony," a man with a slight Brooklyn drawl said. It was a blonde haired, blue eyed man that towered most of the princes you had met. It was strange because you thought America was a democracy, but maybe they had placed a Monarch-like power.

If you had to guess, the princes were from Italy, America, and maybe San Marino. It would explain their different personalities. You studied them for a bit, not wanting to bring attention to yourself just yet. You finally had to step in because Tony was about to mess with your Shakespeare scrolls that you had been graciously given by a prince that so happened to die on his way to England.

"Enough," You said, stepping out from the shadows. The men spun, holding out weapons such as a blaster-thingy and a shield. You were surprised given their choice of weapons, but who were you to judge. You stepped forward, your dress trailing behind you. You reached out to grab their weapons, but they tried to keep them from you.

"Look, Lady, no one touches my weapons." The Italian said. You laughed a small bit at their innocence and reached out to grab his blaster.

"Your small weapons will not harm me. How do you think I have survived for 2,718years? I'm older than most major countries." You say clearly not impressed. The men look at you as if you had grown into a hydra or something. 

"You definitely didn't lose your beauty over the years. What's your secret?" The Italian asked. You rolled your eyes and grabbing him by the collar of the shirt threw him against the wall.

"You're the one I'm killing first" you mumbled. The men stared at you wide-eyed, mouths open. You sigh knowing it was time for your life story, "I got cursed by a witch to kill princes who would one day turn into evil dictators at age 28. I've been here ever since that's why you don't hear about some of the Princes that used to rule England or Spain. I could go through the names, but it would be of no use. I have to kill you anyways" You grab the blade from the stone, pointing it at the blaster owner.

"Excuse me ma'am, but none of us are princes" The blonde man cuts in. You turn, the blade of the sword almost cutting his head off.

"Then how are you here? Only princes and people of the prophecy are supposed to....oh no" you trail off. Racing up the stairs, you run into your room and grab a dusty book off of one of your shelves. You quickly open to a bookmarked page and reread the Prophecy.

The curse will be broken at noon one day,

for better or worse I cannot say.

The princes will not have to fear anymore

For from her hand, vengeance will be no more.

Though she appears dead on the journey to peace,

 She will awake to cause all wars to cease.

However, a word to heed before the end of this

If she is killed, the world's doom will be subjected to the darkness

To be continued...