Naga!Pythor x Reader

An Unintentional Anacondrai Courtship Dance and Some Illegal Stuff

What good does it do to say, 'I'll be right over there', if you don't stay right over there, Pythor.

You paced back and forth, an upbeat sort of jazz bumbled through from the stage in front of you, while, in the world of the backstage, it was chaos. People commanded things into headsets, servers held food trays high above their heads, and agents and performers tried not to whack people with instruments and clipboards, mostly in vain.

The main excitement this year was the fact that the Royal Blacksmiths were not performing, due to a leader with a hurt leg and some team drama.

You discovered that if you didn't directly get in anyone's way, you would go unnoticed.

But now you were alone. You'd even lost Skales and Selma. How does one even loose Skales? He'd managed to turn his hair blonde and blue, but his eyes were still Hypnobrai scarlet and he had a snake's tongue. He had grunge rebel style, with a leather jacket, beanie and worn high-tops, and he was about your height with legs, which was pretty amusing.

They'd been trying to sneak Selma in as an act. You'd wondered if they'd succeeded and that's why you weren't finding them.

You just wished you could find Pythor. You peered around the people again, looking for his suit and long hair. Perfect jawline and dark eyes. Nope, you were alone. Great.

You caught a glance at someone out of the corner of your eye, and quickly turned your head away. It was Jay, the ninja from the park. The only one that had seen your face.

He was doing a terrible tap dance, getting yelled at by the one in black with dark skin. Cole right? Pythor mentioned him yesterday, and something about his father.

Were they seriously competing?

An older man glared at them, pushing through the crowd with a reporter close in tow.

"Can you tell us the true reason behind the exclusion of the Royal Blacksmiths from today's competition?" the reporter chattered, her camera man panting to catch up.

"Can't you see I'm busy!?" He threw his hands at her, and keeping your face averted from the ninja you dodged around them and back into the crowd.

You passed a group playing their music, an old Royal Blacksmith song, ironically, remixed into a more upbeat tone. The same one your college class had used for the final performance, considering it was a group presentation song with one alternating lead and multiple backups to fill, your position.

You couldn't help but sway to it, stomping to the side.

"There you are!" a woman shouted exasperatedly from the group. You thought she was talking to someone else at first, but no.

"You're due on the stage in a few minutes, what are you doing!?" she grabbed you, several stylist converging around you.

"What?" you blinked.

"Do you not know this song?" she said demandingly, inches from you.

"Yeah, but-"

"Good! We were told you had (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes and it took forever to find you with that! You're very pretty, you'll do splendidly!!" She shoved you into a dressing room, stylists immediately taking your shirt off.

Well, the last time you just went along with something you ended up in servitude to an Anacondrai.

You started to protest when they grabbed your bra, snapping a corset in its place, and pulled a huge flowing dress over your head. One woman tied up the back as another started curling your hair, snapping gilded pins in it.