Naga!Pythor x Reader

The Deadest of the Dead

         The sun apparently rose painfully early in the Sea of Sand.

                And Pythor before that.

                A stack of clothes hit the bed beside you, and you squinted, a British accent chattering about something as he uncovered the luminous stone beside the bed-          the main Serpentine source of lighting.

                You groaned, rolling over.

                “No. No. None of that,” his tail wrapped around your waist and pulled you out of the bed.

“You and that awful tail” you grumbled, ribs still sore.

You pushed yourself out of his coils, standing up and stretching with one eye open, looking out at the sun just barely lighting the horizon line, framing Ouroboros.

“I thought I told you to wash up last night. I can still smell you.”

“Smell me? I know Anacondrai have enhanced senses but really?” You sniffed your arm.

“Yes- really,” He curled his lip.

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll put on clean clothes and it’ll be fine.”

“Bathe,” He said authoritatively, narrowing his eyes.

Fairly tired and not on a clear train of thought you glanced at his coils and then him. With a scoff you uttered something you’d immediately regret, “What are you going to do- make me?”

Turns out, not only were his coils strong but he was too. As soon as the word left your mouth his eyes narrowed further, and with a flick of his tongue he pinned your arms to your side and picked you up under his arm, slithering towards the bathroom.

You screeched, clawing at his arms as he grabbed the edge of your undershirt, “Fine! Fine! Let go of me!”

He immediately let you go, gave a ‘humph’, and turned away, exiting.

You took a shower as hastily as you could while trying to figure out the strange aqueduct plumbing.  You got dressed just as quickly. The clothes were surprisingly comfortable, loose fitting but robust, in the Anacondrai royal violets, golds and blacks, complete with a head shawl.

You let it hang around your neck as you entered the main sitting area. Pythor had one of your journals in one hand, a cup of something hot in the other. You stiffened as he marked out something and jotted down things in a flowy handwriting.

He looked up at you, shut the journal and put it in your bag, handing it to you.

He took a sip of whatever he had, coffee, you thought, but could have been a darker tea, and spoke, “Generals can change their bodies with the power of their staffs but they don’t automatically grow a tail when they become General, it has to be a forced transformation and it doesn’t last. I was born with a tail so this is my default form. Acidicus was born with legs and that’s his automatic appearance, but he can change it. You had documented that Generals and other ranks morph based on title.”

“Oh,” You said, glancing down at your bag.

“Slither Pits are very old fashioned, even if that is how I got this title yesterday. Most tribes are in a fairly diplomatic state. Not all hybrids between tribes are sterile. Serpentine can have offspring with humans- that’s where you get legs instead of tails. Anacondrai are completely elemental resistant, not just fire, and General Arcturus never had the good of the Serpentine in mind, only the Anacondrai. He thought the other tribes were to serve them and that the humans were not just slaves but livestock.”