Chapter Text
PUBLISHED: 27 February 2023
Yandere DSMP x reader
A Greek Mythology AU
ONLY THE CHARACTERS! (Not the content creators)
Mostly doesn't follow DSMP lore, but does refer to it and use it a lot
NO SMUT
MC has no gender, and is written as an asexual aromantic character.
Not all characters will be yanderes or will have romantic feelings towards MC. Characters like Tommy and Tubbo will have platonic relationships, nothing more.
MC uses THEY/THEM and YOU/YOURS pronouns mostly.
MC has their own lore that I and a friend of mine came up with.
This AU is not historically accurate to what the world of Ancient Greece was really like. I’ve tried to stay true to it, but I’m not as much of an expert just yet. So, this world is more like a fictional version of it (as expected, but I just want to emphasize this).
To add to this: topics such as slavery or gender inequality is not explored, but are obviously present, to at least stay as true as I can be to the original world. Gender inequality in and of itself is not really shown all that much, and the MC will have the same societal status as men. Slavery, meanwhile, will be mentioned and described in some ways, but it won’t be a big part of the story either. Just so you’re aware.
I have already written this in Word, so some things might seem off because they've been copied (and not everything wants to work the way I want to).
There is also a discord, if you’d like to join! It’s for other fanfictions as well. You can find it here . If you want to make fanart of this story, you can send it in here, if you want to. (If the link doesn’t work, please let me know.)
Last but not least, this story will have quite some dark content and whatnot and there will be mentions and/or descriptions of:
SEXUAL VIOLENCE (It likely won’t be described, but since it’s a Greek mythology AU, there likely will be some mentions of it and whatnot)
VIOLENCE
DEATH
OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOUR
TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS
And more.
I will attempt to put a trigger warning at the start of each chapter if it's needed, but I can't promise that I will be able to remember or to recognize when it's needed.
Now, let me start the prologue.
Mors et vita duello
conflixere mirando:
dux vitae mortuus,
regnat vivus.
A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes have fallen on the beautiful sight beneath you, where strangers are walking and talking silently. This is it. This is where you’ll come to discover the true meaning of your future. The true impact of the curse put upon you, as a result of mere pettiness of someone who you believed to be your friend.
“Go on, Morte,” you encourage your pet and best friend, whom you’ve known for so long already. His eyes are a deep green, that always glow whenever it’s dark. His fur is pitch black, making him invisible when it’s night. And then those magnificent black, feathered wings of his, which carry him through the empty skies, taking you with him… He’s a truly magical creature, that’s for sure. But you’ve known this from the beginning.
Honest is honest: your parents scared themselves to death when they found you with this creature, as a mere toddler, just playing with it as though it was a simple cat that roamed the castle. Back then, they were convinced you’d die. That the monstrous being with the murderous eyes, would take you to the afterlife, as it was said they always do. But instead, they got surprised by the care the creature seemed to show you. They considered it to be a sign.
Creatures such as Morte, known for leading small children and dragging the cruellest of monsters down to Hades, never obey the gods. And unlike most beings, they cannot be punished by them either. They’re a force of nature; a might to be messed with. Your parents assumed that this either meant you were going to be just like that, or you needed such a deity to look after you. Truly, you cannot tell, nor do you know now. It’s a mystery, but a welcome one.
“You’ll know where to find me when I’m done,” you tell your companion, putting your head against his. Captain Puffy, one of the most loyal servants Ithaca has ever had, is waiting for you nearby, to take you to wherever you need to go afterwards. For now, though, you have something to do. You have the price to pay with you as well, being lucky to be able to afford this to begin with. But it’s all for your future, and the future of your kingdom.
Apollo’s Temple lies beneath, and you start going down the hills. Your tempo is slow and calm, as if there’s no worry to have in the world, but nothing less is true. You catch a few priests and priestesses, and servants and other ministers, there for seemingly other reasons. One of these approaches you.
The man nods at you as a greeting, a faint smile plastered on his face. With his hands folded in front of his stomach, his eyes shining gratefully, he bows his head. He recognizes you. “Musagona, you have come. We expected your arrival.” The nickname leaves his lips suspiciously, as a certain tone underlies it in a way you cannot place. Musagona: a name you’ve been given by poets and performers alike. Despite your tragedy only having happened a few years ago, you suppose it’s no surprise it would be used by those who speak of heroes and heroines on a daily basis.
Because it’s more often used for the character you’ve been portrayed as, rather than by your own personal friends, you’re not used to hearing it. Most of the time, you spend in solitude, or surrounded by close companions. Only when you actively get out, into a place where you’re less known as their king or warrior, you’re called that.
“Good to know I don’t have to introduce myself,” you mumble, and the man simply laughs. He puts his hand on your shoulder, gesturing with his head towards the high columns of the temple. Another priest comes into your direction, not greeting you as a friend like the other did, and instead looking at you sceptically.
“Remember to pay before you enter. The Oracle doesn’t answer for nothing.” And thusly, you do. With the first priest leaving you, forced to do so as the Oracle’s words will only be for your ears, you enter the temple, not only allowing the echoes of footsteps to overflow your hearing, but also the loud noise of a woman’s breathing.
It doesn’t take very long for you to catch the Pythia, who looks tired and as though her mind is not fully there. However, despite the fact that your father always taught you to be critical of everything, he also reminded you to keep your options open. So, as the woman is sitting on the chair, some gas rising and her visibly seeing you, you come closer. “There they are,” she then speaks lightly, “they came as suddenly as they’ll leave.”
“You know who I am?” you ask, raising your eyebrow as you stop your walking, standing still to look at her clearly.
“I know you will be.” She turns her face fully towards you, glaring through your soul as though you’re a criminal, waiting for their trial, and she the victim’s family, hoping for the worst. “But you are not here to know what your inevitable fate is, are you?”
“I want to know how I can prevent it. Or I suppose, more so how I can be cured from the curse put upon me. What must I do for Aphrodite to forgive me, oh sacred seer?”
“Oh, young leader, you foolish child. The curse is one impossible to lift: all you can do, is avoid activation.”
“Avoid activation?”
“You cannot save yourself from what will happen. The spear has been thrown, the wound has been made, the blood has been spilt. Not even Zeus himself can heal you; it’s a part of who you are now. The best advise I have for you, is to avoid confrontation with the one you should fear the most, or at least minimize the victims.”
“How do I do that?”
“There are many rules, but first of all, you should not stay over at the castle of Death, and avoid the blood and clashing swords. Beware of the healing, let it bleed, and refuse to walk with the flower prince. Don’t gamble with your life, nor open the bag of wine, and beware of who you seduce. See through the seer, but don’t listen to its lover, and remember to trust in the serpent’s friend. Give into the protector’s commands, but don’t listen to the words of the lost brother, nor to those of the enchanting being. However, out of all these warnings, there is one you must always heed, and that is that you must watch out for the priest, for he plays as two.”
The words are spoken quickly and you barely process any of them. As expected, her predictions and warning are vague, though you’re surprised by the detail you’ve been given. If only these details gave you some more clearance. What do you have to imagine with a ‘protector’? A ruler? A warrior? Or hell, even a god? When must you refuse to heal? Is it referring to your desire for the curse to disappear; or a literal wound, waiting to be treated? The castle of Death, does that refer to the Underworld? Or is this some cryptic way of referring to a location that you’ve yet to discover?
In the end, you’ll at least make sure to take them slightly seriously. May it be the case that she indeed is right, you want to make sure you didn’t take her words for granted. “What about my island?” you then ask, remembering the duty given to you by your parents’ departure. “Can I still save Ithaca? Can I bring back the glory days of my homeland, and return what the citizens have lost?”
She stares through your soul, a dead and empty expression tainting the beautiful features of her face. “To save your island, you must become more than just a king. A warrior. A saviour. A free bird, not bound to the borders of life. Do not lead, but follow. Go to the island, meet with the tyrant, only then you can save yours.” She turns her head away from you, a darkness falling over her face as all the candles inside get blown out. It must be a sign, you conclude. The flames were extinguished, as was the fire that burnt down your home. “And never forget the eyes that will be on you, Muse’s descendant. No one can keep every god happy, no matter how great they are.”
You bow to her, thanking her and Apollo for their wise words, after which you turn around, ready to leave the temple again. Then, you hear her voice again. “Be careful of who you trust. Humans have been given the gift of deceit, and I can assure you: they are not afraid to use it.” Again, you nod, and thank her for her answers.
Once you’ve left the temple, the first priest is already waiting outside, and you’re alert right away. The Oracle spoke about a priest, who plays for two. As much as you don’t want to be paranoid, you know that it’s important to keep her words in your mind. “I hope she could help you with your problems, Musagona,” he speaks, with the same smile as before plastered on his face. “Do you know what her mystical words may have meant?”
You look him up and down, taking in everything about him, to see if there’s anything suspicious about his appearance. Despite the headache his nearly luminescent skin gives you, and the clear mask of kindness and generosity , there’s nothing about him that you can actively point out. “I’m sure the gods will send me the right way,” you then answer, hoping your words are as cryptic as hers.
The priest wants to open his mouth once more, but as your cold stare burns through his skin, he stops himself from doing so. “Well, I am just glad that we could lend a hand,” he then concludes, putting his hand on your back as he leads you down, towards the exit of the sacred site. There, you soon catch Puffy waiting for you, while she’s talking to the second priest, whose stare is as cold as yours.
She shouts your name – your real name, not the one the people have made up for you – and approaches you excitedly, clearly happy to see you again. As always, treating you as a friend instead of a king, she puts her hands on your shoulder and kisses your cheeks, still bowing just slightly. “May we go to the horses, sire,” she says, taking your hands gently as she leads you to her own. Morte has already found his way back to you, landing not far from Puffy’s horse. “I didn’t want to bring too much with me, but the ship is waiting for us in the South. Once we’re there, you can tell me your discoveries.”
She waves at the priest she was talking to one last time, before the both of you leave, doing as she promised. You’re welcomed on the ship by Puffy’s staff. By your servants, you’re still treated as their leader. By the rogues that joined Puffy’s crew, you’re more seen as a foreign friend or at least an acquaintance. Soon enough, you’re sailing, but to where, neither of you know.
“Tell me, sire: what was it the Oracle told you? Do you think we can still save Cephallenia? Can you still be their ruler?”
A silent sigh leaves your lips, as your eyes get used to the darkness of Puffy’s captain’s hut. With your arms crossed, you look out of the small window towards the raging waves of the sea. “I don’t know,” you admit, refusing to lie to her. “But I think that it’s for the better to leave Vikkstar in charge for now, until we can assure that Aphrodite’s wrath won’t affect the innocent people again.” Puffy nods at your words, letting out a breath as well.
“But what about you?”
That question is one that you don’t know how to answer. All that you’re sure about, is that you’ll have to stay away from your kingdom for a while. “The Oracle told me that I had to visit a tyrant,” you share with the captain, whose face shifts into that of concern. “A tyrant governing an island, I think is what she was talking about. That’s the only thing I can conclude with certainty. That I must become a warrior. Do you know where we could start?” More worry clouds her facial expression as she hums unsurely.
“J. Schlatt is the first that comes to mind. His family is said to have dictated Cretes; he’s a cruel one, that’s for sure. Other than that, I can’t really think of anyone, but surely, the gods don’t want you visiting his island? He’s a relentless leader: he doesn’t hesitate to harm his family, so let alone what he will do to you!”
“I’m not scared of him,” you blatantly state, putting your hands behind your back as you close your eyes to find peace with the decision. “I’ve lived as close to the gods as my father; I’ve descended into the Underworld just to pay Charon for the rest of my people; I’ve had to watch my castle and the houses nearby burn down to the ground, just because I happened to light the rage in the dark heart of the goddess of love. I’m sure I can deal with him just fine.” You swallow, thinking deeply for one last second before making the ultimate decision. “Bring me to Cretes, and tell Lazar and Vikk about my plan. Who knows? Maybe Schlatt can actually help me out, despite his apparent evil nature?”