(Author's Note, read before reading the story:
This story contains absolutely NO ocs. The characters you're reading about are genderbends of the normal characters with the exception of the Serpentine, since I thought girl Serpentines would be too odd to consider. Meaning, Nicole is fem!Cole and Lady Garmadon, do I need to say it? Having said this, this is a SkalesxFem!Cole fanfiction. Don't ask why, I had a dream about it and then started piecing together how it could work. Don't knock it till you tried it. Please do not leave harsh reviews in regard to how that's such an odd pairing.
Also, the story is rated for blood and gore. There are absolutely no sexual references or curse words in this story. But the violence is intense. Viewer discretion is advised.)
"You actually came,"
"You always say that," she speaks as her eyes catch mine. The lowlight does wonders to her, it cloaks her in an eerie blanket of night, and shrouds her in the darkness similar to that darkness that physically envelopes her. From the curtain of moonlight dancing down her face, I catch the shine of her hair. Her gorgeous, ebony hair. The same hue lingers in her eyes, which spark with an array of emotions. I expect a like flame burning within my own eyes. My eyes slide down her body, so delicate and yet so strong, concealed by a flowing ankle long dress, how she snuck from her comrades in that getup without their suspicion is beyond me. In my eyes, she's the most hideous, hated creature ever created, but that's what made her attractive. That's what kept this flame of ours burning, it kept things interesting.
I slither closer to her, her eyes not leaving mine for a second. She's as daring as me, I've come to realize. She knows that it would take a blink and she could be mine, all from a glance of my eyes, and yet she is not afraid. Or rather, has she come to trust me.
Our hands link as our bodies join, so close I can feel her heart thump against my chest and feel the excited breath being exerted. And yet, I want more. I draw in closer, closer even, until no space is left. Our lips mold together, and passion shoots through my body, warming me from the inside, which is awfully ironic since I'm cold-blooded. Her fingers caress my neck as I place my claws ever so gently on her hips. Yet, despite the overflow of these intense and amazing emotions, she draws back.
"This is wrong," she whispers, voice pain-staked as her head seeks comfort against my chest. Delicately, I finger at her hair, my own attempt at conveying that I'm still here for her and have no plans on changing that.
"You always say that," I murmur as my fingers sink down to her cheek, and eventually to her chin. As I lift her face towards mine, relief seeps into me to see her eyes void of a sad glaze and her cheeks dry as the Sea of Sand. "No one said this would be easy, no one promised that it would be right, but despite how terribly wrong it is, just being here with you makes things different."
My words seem to have more of an impact than I had expected, for rather than bursting into tears, she seeks solace once more in my embrace. I should have expected that instead, Nicole was as tough as the earth she represented in her Spinjitzu, she would never be one for tears.
"I may hate Lady Garmadon, but I've come to pity her," Nicole's bushy eyebrows arch at my words, possibly considering what reason I had to bring up the dark lady in the first place. But with the passing second, she comes to realize the connection. "She knows the time is coming when her and her daughter are going to battle, maybe even to the death. She may try and stop it, but we all know it's coming."
"We're not battling to the death yet," she breaths out, a determined sheen in her eyes predicts her next words. "The time may come when, who knows, the Serpentine may turn away from Garmadon."
"Not likely since it was you wretches who locked us up to begin," my tone morphs into something I almost cannot recognize as my own. I hadn't expected to be joined with her only to revert back to my hatred of her, usually it was only when we departed that I was left with a burning hatred. With a deep breath, I calm myself. "Or maybe the Fangpyres will decide to bite you."
"Not likely," she replies, her tone as cold as the icy breath slithering down my neck.
"That day isn't here yet, we may never know when it's coming. Who cares if it comes tomorrow, we still have today,"
Understanding my words, it is her that takes the lead in our dance of passions as her lips fuse to mine. Once more, as if I had actually expected it, my eyes shut, and there was nothing but us in the city, in the universe maybe. It was when my tongue slips past her lips that I consider something; that lurking feeling in my stomach that felt ready to explode. I felt like there was something more I had left to say, and though those three words danced easily through my mind, they felt foreign to my lips. I opt that these words will have no use at the moment, and continue to enjoy our embrace.
After what felt like a million years, she draws away once more. As the warmth of her lips pulls away, I notice how terribly cold I am. Snakes aren't meant for cold nights. She gives me a small half-smile before pulling her sleeve up her shoulder.
"I need to get back before the others notice I'm gone," she says. I nod in agreement as I back off her, allowing enough space for her Spinjitzu. In an instant, the Cinderella of the night is replaced by a tornado of earth and rocks, which is then replaced by a small black ninja, sporting silver armor on her shoulders and forehead. With a wink, she scales the buildings before disappearing into the night. I still feel the words bearing the heaviest of weights on my lip, but I cannot allow them to flow naturally.
As soon as the hatred begins to sink in and the cold prickled my skin, I know it was time to head back underground. At least this did me some good, the very thought of returning to Lady Garmadon's side was enough to shift my hatred to one I thought deserved it more. I could not understand it, she had the most powerful weapon in the universe and she refused to create a suitable home for her minions, even though all it would take is one wish. How many times had I awoken on the deserted train's seats with cricks in my back? Not to mention the overabundance of mice, horrid stenches, and of coarse the overbearing sounds of the outside world played factors in making the subway ultimately suck.
As I slithered down the steps, I'm instantly greeted by an overflow of warmth from the inner earth. This refreshes me, although I had been trapped in an ice tomb for uncountable years, I prefer warmth any day. But as soon as the chills escape my body, they reenter my system, and for reasons unknown I shudder. I find no cause of this until I reach the bottom of the stairs. There, waiting for me I'm sure, are the generals Acidius, Fangtom, and Skalidor along with Mezmo.
"There you are," Mezmo exclaims, eyeing me suspiciously. "Where have you been? Lady Garmadon would be most displeased to see you gone."
"What does she care?" I retort, slithering past the generals. "She has plenty more underlings more willing to obey her than me. She wouldn't miss my presence."
I had anticipated the questions would then cease and all would return to their feeble sleep ritual, but instead the generals slither beside me and Mezmo followes close behind.
"It's not like you, Skales," Fangtom's first head speaks.
"To be so mysterious," his other replies.
"Could it be that,"
"You're hiding something?"
"Be realistic," I counter, sharpening my gaze on both of the speakers, or the speaker if that would be the correct terminology. "What would I have to hide?"
"Then explain your reasons for entering the city," Acidius demands, locking all four of his gleaming cat-like eyes on me. "No Serpentine ever enters the city."
"One of your troops did," I counter, crossing my arms and feeling quiet snug. His fangs bear down in fury at the realization I spoke the truth. Acidius was smart and the one thing he hated was being proven wrong.
"My troops are fools," he spat his words in disgust. "But you're no fool, Skales. What were you doing up there? Preparing to overthrow the dark mistress perhaps?"
With a furious grunt, I spin around, perhaps hoping that this alternative would be more bearable for my comrades to know then the truth.
"What difference would I make if I did? We all hate Garmadon, we're just too afraid to see it. And even if I was planning something that underhanded, Garmadon would either be dead or under my control right now. But regardless, I'm going to bed."
My hopes fell short again. Apparently, my moments of not breathing on the surface have left me void of oxygen to be supplied to my brain, or at least enough to put on a decent performance. Instead of being left alone to return to the subway car, I notice an unshakable presence behind me, and when I hear hissing, I impulsively turn around. My tail almost smacks Skalidor in the face, who is flicking his tongue at me in deep thought-or as deep as a moron like him could manage. He was smelling me.
"I recognize that smell," he draws his tongue back in as his glowing golden eyes searched me for evidence of an answer. "It's sort of earthy. But it's got a splash of something in it. Kind of like vanilla."
"Why're you smelling so girly tonight, general?" Mezmo questions as he approaches me. Before a suitable lie is even on my tongue, Skalidor pipes in again.
"That ninja!" he exclaims upon realization. "The one in black. That's what he smells like."
If snakes were at all capable of producing sweat, I know I would have been. My eyes grow large as I avoid the growing suspicion in all the generals' eyes, they know something is up, and I fear they will soon piece it together along with a misinterpretation of my motives.
"When I was taking a walk, I ran into her. I tried fighting her off, but she got the better of me so I fled back here," I reply, lying through my fangs. "I was embarrassed and didn't want to tell anyone though."
"We've all fought the ninja, but none of us have walked away smelling like them," Acidius cuts in sharply. He certainly was the brains of the Venomari, he seems to have an interpretation of my motives clicking together in his mind. Fearing what they have to say, I begin to slither backwards, only to find my path blocked by Skalidor. He may be heavy, but he was certainly quiet.
"I've even fought close combat with that girl before," Skalidor reminds me. "But I didn't have such a strong smell as you do. You must've been getting cozy with the ninja."
"It's not like that," I attempt to reply.
"So you don't deny you're treachery!" Mezmo bellows. I'm shocked to hear his voice this loud, Mezmo was never a fan of Slithraa and he certainly didn't see me as fitting the role as the Snake King, but I couldn't understand why he would announce it to the rest of the Serpentine as he did.
"It's not treachery!" I choke out as Skalidor's tale wraps around me, tight enough to ensure I will not be escaping but not so tight that I fear for my life. "I was trying to get close to her to get her out of the way, I swear it!"
"He's lying!" Skalidor counters. "He wouldn't have come up with the idea of getting his butt handed to him by the ninja if that were true. He must be trying to hypnotize her to kill Lady Garmadon!"
"I wouldn't!" Well, this was not necessarily true, but I wasn't anyway.
"But he does have an interesting idea," Mezmo chimes in. The chaos mutes for a swift second, and all six pairs of eyes rest on him. He takes a gliding step towards me, and with a nod towards Skalidor I feel my breath being cut off completely. For the moment, I'm scared senseless, terrified I will be nothing but an example of what would happen if one dared to betray Garmadon. But Mezmo is not that Serpentine, he does not hold a desire to murder. He's focused on something else, a forming idea. Slowly, he lifts the second eyelid concealing his true eyes. Gazing into them, I feel my senses and thoughts go as numb as my body. "Forgive me, general, but you will do everything I command,"
I stumble onto the moonlit streets, feeling a bit in a haze. The temptation to write off my odd inability to control my legs as a side effect of the circular moon is present, but I have other things to think of instead. Nicole was beautiful in the partial light of the alley, to rest my eyes on her with the moon showing its face would be breathtaking.
Indeed it was. From the moment she turned to me I felt charmed. Tonight, she continues her risk taking by wearing a short cut black dress, dazzling in the ever-present moonlight and providing a spectrum of every color of the rainbow. Her hair cascades in deep flows over her shoulder and on her ear is a fresh rose, as soft and delicate as she.
"You actually came,"
"You always say that,"
And our ritual begins anew, taking in a moment of each other's presence, we allow one another into the sweet embrace as our flames engulf us. Just as our lips form against the others, I feel an overwhelming pressure at the bottom of my soul. Something is urging me to break from our pattern of passionate kissing and allow time for something else. The words buzz in my head, but I can make no sense of them.
These words take total control of me, and without my will, I notice my hands rising to her neck. A gentle sweep against her soft skin is all I allow at first, until that primitive desire takes it's hold on me once more. Without my consent, I feel my claws draw out, and a warm sensation trickle down my arm.
She winces in pain, I can't help but wonder why. Perhaps my forced action had actually hurt her, or at least to some degree. Shrugging it off, I do what only seems natural and let my forked tongue slither against the blood pooling from her neck. Her giggles suggest a flushed face.
"What are you doing?" she asks.
"I don't know," I reply in a cool and collected manner, continuing to lap at her blood. Her hand presses to my cheek as she attempts to shove me away.
"Well quit it, that's weird. Plus it hurt," her tone was no longer cute, it suggested an alternate message of "do what I say or I'll punch you in the gut". This shocks me, and I pull back immediately, studying her features. Her eyes have lost her spark, and she appears irritated as she swats a hand to her neck.
"I'm not trying to hurt you," I bend over to her, putting myself directly in her line of vision. She glances at me from the corner of her eye, and she seems to have doubts of my words. "This is only what feels right to me. I don't know why."
At that moment, a spark of fear replaces the once beautiful flicker I knew in her eyes. She's terrified of something I can't see, but why can't I see it? She attempts to flee, but the thought of her leaving me is too much to bear, so I grab onto her wrist. I'm stronger than her, so pulling her back into my embrace is an easy task.
Suddenly, I come to realize those words echoing through my mind, written on the core of my inner being that I had been unable to comprehend. Kill her.A voice similar to Mezmo's, but I cannot comprehend why Mezmo would be in my head to begin with. But, these two very words define my being at this point, there is no sense in escaping from their command. After all, perhaps this would be for the better, that day when the end of our bond would never have to come and today would last forever. The thought of this being our true existence, her with me all my days, intoxicates me, and I want more.
Slowly, I drop my claw to her stomach. With the gentlest fingering, the stitches tear and my scaly claw connects to her silky skin. She calls for help for reasons unknown to me, doesn't she want this to last? Still, I know this day will not end by her word, and a grasp from my other hand is enough to silence her.
The claw at the tip of my finger dances across her ever-soft skin, carving delicately into her inner-self. Oddly enough, despite the chill of her body, her insides bear a hot comfort, or to me anyway. Nicole, on the other hand, screams as warm tears flow down her face. But what reason does she have to cry?
"Hush little baby, don't say a word," I whisper into her ear. Her screams muffle to a slow sob, and her head dangles as her tears continue to drip.
Pushing aside her muffled cries, I continue to sink my hand deep into her core, stopping only when I recognize what must be her spine. This is not what I was looking for at all, and in my frustration, I grab a handful of innards and yank them out, if I can get rid of the obstacles keeping me from her heart, it would be easier to get to.
The intestines and guts ooze warm blood onto my hand, and I find that my other hand has become soaked in the same liquid as Nicole vomits it up. I pay no attention to these details, I can hear the words rattling through me, and her entrails echo the rapid beat of her heart. My desire for it burns stronger.
The vital organs slither from my hand and land with a messy plop on the ground. I repeat the grabbing and yanking process, dropping enough meat and broken intestines to reach to my ankles. Slowly, I slither my arm up under her ribcage, clawing and scraping for my desired target. This does me hardly any good besides lodging remains of tissues and bone marrow under my claws, the heart is deeper in her chest than I expected. Yet, something in me knows that the heart of a woman is the hardest to obtain.
Finally, I connect my fingers to something warm, plump and yet very still, I know it's my desired object. And yet, why is it unmoving? Drawing my eyes to Nicole, I find the fight has left her eyes, her head dangles-but not from crushed hope-and her skin is bleached white. I smile at the realization as I draw my hand out of her corpse, the day will never come when we will depart from one another. I've secured our bond together for eternity.
All that remains is the organ lying in the palm of my hand. Smiling to myself, I deem it as a symbol of how the two of us will be forever joined. Allowing a kiss to its midsection, I devour it in a messy chomp, swallowing the remains not a second later.
My eyes come to rest on Nicole's corpse, so gorgeous, so beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful in death than life, she looked more natural this way. Then, I come to recognize the pit at the bottom of my stomach, desiring to speak those three simple words to her. They seemed so hard when she was alive, but so much simpler now that all was finished.
"I love you, Nicole," I speak softly, lowering myself to get to her eyelevel. And yet, no response comes from her lips. This shocks me, I knew she would have some response to say, why couldn't she choke down a breath for a fleeting second just to repeat my words?
Frustrated at her silence, I allow my hand to renter her body, clawing all the way up her throat and into her mouth. Drawing my claws once more, I dig my thumb into the gum of her lower jaw and the remaining fingers into the gum of her upper jaw. The tough muscle conceals my fingers up to the knuckles.
"I love you too," her lips move to my voice. With a grin, I drew her into my embrace. I knew she did.