A note from the author~

Surprise, surprise, darlings, I'm alive. Due to personal issues and lack of muse, I stopped writing for a very, very long time. However, seeing as I've suddenly regained both my inspiration and my freetime, I've returned and plan to write as often as possible. I plan to rewrite my stories; I've grown and matured as both a person and a writer since their beginnings, and would like to improve them.

This particular story will be a drabble/oneshot preview for the reworked version of For Your Entertainment, what seems to be one of my most popular stories.

A few warnings in advance-

This story will be somewhat complicated, but I will do my best to flesh out every idea and make it clear. It is a complete AU, and I'm basically screwing around with pretty much everything. There will be language and a bit of very light gore in this, but the warnings for the stories to follow will be mentioned there. This is essentially a preview, a prequel to a prequel.

Disclaimer-

I own nothing, of course, except the base idea for the plot.

Diosa

-oOo-

I should've worshipped her sooner
If the heavens ever did speak
She's the last true mouthpiece
Every Sunday's getting more bleak

...

Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

...

To keep the goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice

He'd waited for so long. Centuries, or even more, it felt like. He'd read every legend, performed every ritual, sacrificed endlessly, did everything he could to ensure her arrival. He knew he could not rush her, he had no control over the divine. So he simply waited. Of course, he had soldiers out searching for her, for their queen, nearly every day, and every day, they returned with nothing. He wasn't even sure she'd been born yet, but he searched still.

Many had thought him a fool to continue to believe in her. Others looked to him for reassurance, hope that she'd arrive, that she'd save them, lead them, protect them, as he always told them she would. Those that kept their faith often prayed in the temple that had long ago been constructed to her. He himself had knelt at the alter, praying for his goddess to find her way home.

"You're wasting your time, Carlos."

Perhaps he was. There was always the possibility he'd put all his faith into something that was little more than a fairytale designed to give their people hope. Maybe he'd devoted his faith to a myth. He'd considered this many times- how could he not? He'd lost faith in his human god ages ago, and he often wondered if the same thing had happened with her.

All it took was a glance. A single once-over of his people kneeling before the statue that had long ago been dedicated to her restored his hope that she'd come. He clung to the hope that she'd simply walk in one day, ready to accept the crown-illogical, he knew, but hope was not a logical thing.

The years slipped away from him, and as more time passed, more people began to lose faith. The Culebras had been forced to keep to their city of El Rey, overruled by the cold ones that proclaimed themselves warlords. Their blood supplies had long ago depleted, and many had been forced to resort to feeding off animals. He watched their spirits break, their hopes shatter, and he once again found himself questioning his own faith. Perhaps the council was right-perhaps the myths had proven themselves false. Perhaps there was no queen.

Then the visions had began.

He'd seen her for the first time late in the twentieth century, during one of his now infrequent visits to her shrine. She'd been stretched out on the table where, during his more barbaric days, he'd sacrificed to her without a second thought, in hopes that the blood might appease the lords and they'd send his precious Diosa to him sooner. She was clad in little, barely undergarments, covered mostly by a thin brown tunic that left her abdomen bared.

She had seemed to hear him approach, and rose slowly, perching on her knees atop the alter. Dark hair fell to her breasts in waves, candlelight shone over olive skin, and eyes the color of chocolate bore into his very soul.

He'd said nothing at first, nor did he dare move, in fear of chasing her off. He was coaxed forward by the inviting, coy smile that tugged at her crimson-painted lips. He took no notice of the serpent that wound its way around the alter, hissing softly as he approached. His gaze fell to the eye of the vision serpent that adorned her wrist, marred only by what looked to be a bite mark, and it was then that he realized who he was standing in front of.

"Carlitos." Her voice was a purr that made something in him simply...break. Without a second thought, he fell to his knees before her.

"Mi diosa," He muttered, casting his eyes down, unable to bring himself to meet her intense gaze, "you're here, after all these years-"

"Not yet, mi amor, not quite yet," She crooned, ghosting her nails over his cheek, slipping her hand down to gently grip his chin, tilting his head and encouraging him to look at her, "you'll have to wait just a bit longer. Can you do that for me?"

Of course he could.

He'd wait another century, a thousand years if he had to. He'd slaughter towns, destroy cities; whatever he needed to do to bring her to him. But she asked nothing of him, except to wait. Just for a little while, she promised.

She made that promise countless times.

She'd appear in his weakest moments, when his grief or rage threatened to consume him. She'd purr in his ear, remind him that patience would be his saving grace. If he started a war, he might destroy the path she'd created for her mortal form. She'd whisper instructions, encouragements into his ear during times of political distress, tell him to continue to reassure their people that she was coming-soon. He'd see her out of the corner of his eye, that same little smirk adorning her lips. That smile gave him strength, he found, especially in the moments where the damned fool Narciso spat out insults. Carlos had learned to simply smile; afterall, his mistress would arrive soon enough, and remind Narciso that he wasn't the god he believed himself to be.

She sometimes visited him as he slept. He questioned, once, why he had to wait, why she simply couldn't come to them now.

"There is a path, Carlitos, that even I must follow."

A path. He hadn't the faintest idea what she'd meant when she said it, but the years that came brought the realization that she'd been meant to be born as a mortal, and during, she would face her own trials to prove herself worthy of being La Diosa.

That was why he had to wait, and wait he did.

His visions of her became less and less frequent, and though it hurt, he now found his faith renewed, unshakable. The words of Narciso, nor his other colleagues bothered him. He took to reassuring his people that their queen would come far more often, and worked to improve the temple she'd reside in, along with her chosen.

Eventually, the visions ceased altogether, but it did not bother him. Soon enough, she'd be before him, flesh and blood. His centuries of worship would finally bring him reward-gold, power, whatever he wished, he was sure his goddess would grant him.

His diosa.

A/N: I'm sure this is quite confusing, but I'll edit it later, and it's a drabble/teaser for my upcoming story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to ask any questions you'd like!