Iplier and Septiceye One-Shots/Imagines

Power Isn't Everything (Iceplier X Fire Powered!Royalty!Reader)

Someone requested this a while ago. No idea who, though. As always.

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Infinite power. That's what you had, and that's what you kept. You controlled everything that your eyes could look over, and more. Every person that crossed your lands, every plant, animal, was yours to command.

You were unstoppable.

"Y-Your Highness? There's a man, t-the guards picked him up trying to sneak into the k-kingdom," a hesitant voice stammered, making you turn around from your balcony. The servant was afraid.

"I'll be there in just a minute," you said coldly, flicking your hand to signal that he could go. He bowed quickly and scrambled away, closing the door behind him. You turned from the door, and looked out into the pink and purple sky, watching the land fall into darkness.

A few minutes later, you were sitting on your golden throne, looking down at the advisors and people standing in your throne room.

"This better be important," you barked and snapped your well-manicured fingers. Two knights entered through the doors on your left, holding a man, beaten and bloody, half-unconscious. He had stark white and blue hair, and dull blue eyes, like the fogged up sky in the middle of a snowstorm, where you're unable to see two feet away from you.

"You know there is a law against sneaking into my kingdom when there is a perfectly good gate that my knights operate," you told the criminal. He didn't say a word, but chuckled, a trickle of red liquid dripping from the corner of his puffed up lip. "Unless you have something to hide?"

"Nah, nothing really, Your Highness. I'd just rather not go through the hassle of border security," he joked. You clicked your tongue against your teeth, irritated.

"So why did you decide to come here, outsider?" you asked him. He didn't reply, just spat out a lot of blood that was pooling in the back of his throat. "I won't ask again."

"Good. Keep doing that. You know, the part where you keep your mouth shut." The knight on his right slapped him for his insolence, and your lips turned down in a frown. You stood up, walking to him slowly, menacingly. You made sure to keep your pace, to sound like a predator playing with helpless prey. Every time you took a step, the men and women in your court flinched back, like the echoes in the hallway were gunshots.

"You know, this wouldn't happen if you would just tell the truth," you whispered to the crook. "I would be merciful, and let you go."

"Yeah, I believe you," he scoffed, "megalomaniac." This time you slapped him yourself and turned back to your seat.

"Maybe a night in a cell will loosen your tongue," you muttered, and flicked your wrist, telling them to leave. Without another word, you retreated back to your quarters, to see if you could get some sleep, without the nightmares.

In the early morning, once more, you woke up drenched in sweat, shooting up from your bed after another bad dream.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you scolded yourself as you threw up your silk sheets, turning so your feet would touch the ground. Slowly getting up, you walked to your en-suite and washed the tears- and your memories- away. After a few minutes of that, you decided to go down to the jail cells, to see if the criminal would talk.

"Hello, Your Majesty," the man laughed when you walked through the doors. You refused to answer him; you just glared at him, wondering what he was hiding from you. "You know that I could escape this cell right now, and you would never see me again," he warned you.

"Oh, is that so?" you asked in a quiet voice. "And, if I was to take you seriously, why haven't you quite yet?"

He didn't reply, and you felt justified.

"Tell me about yourself," he suddenly spoke up.

"E-excuse me?" you questioned, taken aback by the softness in his voice all of a sudden, a sudden change from the mocking and harsh tone you first heard from him.

"Your childhood, all that nice stuff. If I'm going to rot here, the least you could do to make my suffering cease is tell me a bit about yourself." He looked up into your eyes, and you saw how tired they were. He obviously didn't get a wink of sleep.

"And why should I tell you anything?" you asked with a grin. "Why shouldn't I just have you beheaded right here and now with the whole town watching?"

"You could do that," he nodded, "but that means that you'll actually go to the town for the first time since you started your catastrophic reign." He looked grimly at you.

It was true, you didn't go out of your castle too much. But the rumours about why weren't true; they said that you thought that you were just too good for them. But the truth was much, much deeper than a bit of scorn. The men, women and children all thought that you were a psychopath that had too much power and too little empathy. But you deemed it necessary, as a façade to hide your younger self.

"I have no need to visit my subjects," you answered coldly.

"You should hear yourself talk. You sound like you're too good for this world," he snapped, finally showing his anger towards you, instead of just disdain.

"It's because I am." The words rolled off your tongue like butter, yet the aftertaste was sour. Your parents were never like this when they were in charge. They were kind to their people. But when war broke out, your father- the king- rode out with his soldiers. And his life vanished, just like a spark gone out. Your mother died of grief a few weeks later, and your brother was assassinated the night before his coronation. You were then put in charge, and left to rule the entire kingdom, alone, and confused.

So why didn't you rule like them? It was simple, to be honest. If you used your emotions less, then nobody you cared about had to die. Your entire family had died in the better half of a month, and you had no one left. And you weren't going to make any more liabilities for yourself, so you were left with yourself, the castle you were left to own, and the kingdom you were planning to let die out.

"You're sick and power-hungry," he spat.

"I am. Good day to you," you retorted, and spun away, to walk up the stairs. You were never planning on seeing him ever again.

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Word count: 1103

Too tired to make a proper picture.

Suddenly realizing how little Iceplier pictures there are on the internet. Might draw something. I don't know.

I'm in such a bad mood right now.