#mastersoftheuniverse

A/N - Hello! This is just a lil' Skeletor blurb. When I first saw him in the Netflix series, I was like, "Okay, okay. I can see the vision." Then, I saw him in live action and lost all reason. Give me the Bone Man right neowww! Anyway, I'm still new to posting on Tumblr so my formatting may be weird.

Content warnings: 1k words. No smut (alas). Reader is insecure. Contains references to violence and allusions to power imbalance. Reader is described as having hair and is referred to with female pronouns. Reader has questionable morals. If I left something out, I do apologize. Enjoy!

((divider by sulphuricgrin))

The rumors had been relentless.

You began to suspect something when you found your handmaidens clustered together upon entering your chambers, their eyes widening and their shoulders straightening to attention when they saw you. It was quite obvious you had interrupted something, but you had not given much thought as to what it had been .

Then you began to hear their whispers.

Bits and pieces of the servants' conversations would drift to your ears as you passed by them in the halls or as they hurriedly cleaned your quarters while your hair was styled for the day.

Traitor. Deceiver. She-devil.

Despite your best efforts to ignore them, their words hurt. They seemed to nestle in your skin like burs. You had known it was inevitable, certainly—many of the servants that toiled within the walls of Snake Mountain were of your own people. After decades—no, centuries—of anguish suffered at the hands of Skeletor and his ilk, there was no way they could understand your choice. The very idea that one of their own had accepted a place within the Dark One's court, garnered his favor, and became consort was simply unfathomable to them.

Painful as it was, you tried to manage the matter on your own.

Skeletor was deeply ensconced in the planning of a new strategy to enact against Randor's growing militia and hardly had time to hear of your troubles. Besides, you did not want him to perceive you as weak. He had deemed you poised and capable; this was not something you wished to change.

Yet, here you were.

After weeks upon weeks of hearing the whispered insults and meeting disdainful gazes, you had reached a breaking point. You had not intended to broach the subject during this stolen moment alone with Skeletor. Few and far between as these moments were, you typically only discussed matters of the court but tonight had been different. He had sensed your unease.

"What troubles you, my dear?"

His question had caught you off guard. Your eyes widened with surprise but you quickly regained your composure and redirected your gaze to the expanse of land that rolled out endlessly beneath the castle balcony on which you stood. "Nothing, my lord."

He hummed— a deep rumbling sound—and slowly tilted his head to the side as he studied you intently. You could feel his gaze, heavy and unwavering. "Do not lie to me." His tone was measured; you knew it was not intended as a suggestion but a command. A threat.

Sheepishly, you pried your eyes away from the land below. His eyes were fixed on you, glowing with an intensity you had come to know well. You knew better than to go against him.

So, you relented.

You explained the things you had heard, explained the way in which the servants sneered at you when you approached. Your original intent was to say this and nothing more, but the words simply would not stop once started. The poised and indifferent facade you had created crumbled the more you spoke. Tears pooled in your eyes and before you could blink them back, a single droplet escaped to trail down your cheek.

Skeletor's face twisted in disgust.

Your stomach dropped. That was it—all of the years you had spent presenting yourself as cold and unaffected were washed away with that single tear. He would never look at you the same again. You would be seen as unfit. Weak. Skeletor hated weakness.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you dared to meet his gaze once more.

His expression remained unchanged. With a hand outstretched, he took a step forward and closed the already small gap between the two of you. You squeezed your eyes shut and recoiled away from him, certain he was about to strike or strangle you. Perhaps both.

A touch, warm and feather-light, brushed your cheek.

Startled, you opened your eyes to find him studying his index finger closely. There, sitting at the tip of his clawed finger, was your teardrop. The small blob of liquid wobbled in place as he turned his finger this way and that, reflecting the light of the moons above. Without warning, he flicked the droplet from his finger and sent it careening over the balcony before settling his gaze on you once more.

"Name them."

Skeletor's voice came out very low, hardly more than a rumble in his chest. Sniffling, you successfully blinked back the other tears threatening to fall. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"

"Name them." He repeated, this time louder. "All of them. Every pathetic miscreant that dared to speak ill of you—give me their names, and I shall remove their tongues. Or," a devilish smile spread across his face. "Their heads. Whichever you prefer, my dear."

His words sent a thrill down your spine.

There was a part of you—a long-buried part of you—that felt a tinge of disgust at his statement but you were quick to push that aside.

This was the path you had chosen. This was the right choice. Suddenly, your previous feelings of despair and uncertainty were gone. The gall of them! The servants were fed, clothed, and offered the protection of Snake Mountain's walls yet they chose to speak against the very ones who provided these comforts! Had it not been for you, not a single of your handmaidens or attendants would have lived to see another sunrise when Skeletor conquered their village.

It was you, their compatriot, that had made Skeletor see the benefit of more attendants in his castle.

Invigorated by his devotion, you broke into a coy smile. "You would do that for me, my lord? Truly?"