alvinflavored

[alvinflavored]

MORIARTY THE PATRIOT - WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY

[alvinflavored]

a round of applause for rose 🫡🫡👏👏

Hello! I was just wondering what happened to your main account??? I decided to reread ur stories there but I can't find the account 😔

im not sure how old this ask is, or if you've already found out, but my new blog is @alkaisen :) a mutual of mine helped me repost some of my old works. as for what happened to my previous main, i think i was banned by tumblr for some reason, but i really don't know

[alvinflavored]

Hello! I was just wondering what happened to your main account??? I decided to reread ur stories there but I can't find the account 😔

im not sure how old this ask is, or if you've already found out, but my new blog is @alkaisen :) a mutual of mine helped me repost some of my old works. as for what happened to my previous main, i think i was banned by tumblr for some reason, but i really don't know

[alvinflavored]

YUUMORI FANDOM WE ARE SO BACK ☺️☺️‼️‼️

[alvinflavored]

you're so nice to me aya i love you 😋 i'll crawl back from cerberus's jaw in hell for you

yeah i was contemplating whether to do it or not but i think ive made up my mind to do it now

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS

→ WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY x F!READER FANTASY ROYAL AU

CW!/##: misogyny

"no matter what anyone might say to you, (name), understand this; you were made to escape these earthly bounds and to claim your rightful throne alongside the celestial titans—"

"—you were made to conquer the stars."

✦ CH 1: A Vow To The Heir

as constant and stagnant the cycle of death and life is, the eon old war also continues on and on; forever and ever. an emperor rises, he serves his purpose against the enemy empire as long as his breath will allow him to, and in the end, falls into the great deep.

the hellish, almost eternal cycle went on for centuries. that was, at least, until you were born.

"hear me, all nobles. she is a woman! firstborn as she might be — you most definitely cannot appoint her as the next heir to the throne!"

"blasphemous, grand duke! lady (name) was prophesized to bring an end to the eon long war by the gods! how dare you try and refute the divine?!"

"and yet you refuse to call her the crown princess, marquis! how hypocritical can one truly be?"

"SILENCE!"

you hear the old emperor's voice booming. and though he has become weary with age and his voice has grown hoarse, he is still the emperor—a hush falls over the high nobles that had been arguing in the meeting hall. you wince, fingers tightening around your dress as you trudge away through the hallway, not wanting to eavesdrop further than you have.

you did not want to hover over the fact that a debate in the house of nobles has begun once again, due to your birth and existence — a cruel thing life could be.

"having a pleasant evening, sister?"

your fourth brother speaks wittily, appearing out of the blue when you turn a corner. "i found a pet for you. or rather," he grins. "a 'knight' to protect you."

you are met with a man of an imposing height yet falling on the slimmer and weaker side, hair as golden as the sun and eyes as scarlet as blood. blood that has been countlessly spilled on the battlegrounds.

(e/c) pupils fall to his clothes; ornamented in expensive jewellery, scarlet clothes. a finely decorated man. in other words; like master like servant — your fourth brother was poorly trying to convey that you were nothing but a mere decoration.

you flinch when those lifeless eyes, defiant eyes that says his heart doesn't have a place for anybody, meet with yours and it was clear that your brother was insulting you.

"your royal highness." the blond's upper body falls into a deep bow, his gloved hand over his beating heart. his lashes too, you realise, are golden in colour. "it is my greatest honour to serve and protect you."

you clear your throat, lift your chin high, make an effort to seem composed — as anybody of your stature should be at all times. "lift your head." you speak, and he does. you turn to your fourth brother. "and pray tell, brother, does our father agree to this?"

"of course." he scoffs. "i found this guy," he slings a shoulder around the blond. the blond stiffens. "but father is the one who recommended him to take the position of your knight. after all, his word is absolute."

this was just a snide way of the old emperor implying that he was indifferent towards you; his daughter. perhaps he was trying to kill you off but his severe, deep rooted fear of angering the gods was holding him back — that is why he resorted to sending you such a weak looking man to 'protect' you, as he says.

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

"if you are uncomfortable with me, your highness, would you prefer i call upon the maids instead?" the blond speaks as his back is turned towards you; facing the wall with his hands behind his back.

it's been a few weeks since this blond has become your knight. the two of you are very much in your own worlds entirely—an odd match. everytime you try and converse with him, he finds every chance to run away—as if he doesn't want to be in the same room as you, as if it is a pain, as if it is a chore.

serving a female master surely might be.

"no, i'm-" you suck in a deep breath, trying to make the chain armour fit on your body. a woman's body was not suited for it since they were made for and used by men in war or sparring practice. "-ugh. fine."

the blond can hear you struggle from the way you're breathing hard. "you are the heir to the throne, are you not? why do you not leave the fighting and the physical combat to the knights instead?"

that strikes a nerve somewhere inside you.

clatter.

"you are my knight, are you not? why do you not leave the advising & nagging to the advisors instead?"

your knight turns to look at the dagger between his index and middle finger that you threw at him with incredible speed, and which he caught with ease.

"....forgive this fool's insolence."

william never seems to truly respect you. even when being insulted by your siblings or ministers while you're on your walks, he stays on the sidelines, takes on the role of a chameleon and stays utterly quiet.

"you have quick reflexes." your eyes shoot up, straightening yourself. the knight looks down to observe the dagger in his hand; ornamented with fine jewels and designs emblazoned onto the blade. "how much have you trained?" you question him.

"as much training as any knight was allowed to have, your royal highness." william murmurs quietly. dull, you think. he doesn't seem to have his own personality. a ragdoll or a puppet, of sorts.

"but you agree you are talented than most peers."

he hesitates. speaks: "i am proud of my capabilities."

that makes you smile, makes you think there's something there—not just this large wall he's put up.

willam watches as your body spins around, grabbing something long and sharp. it's only when you turn back that he understands what that object in your hand is, and what you're implying. "catch."

his gloved fist wraps around the metal of the sword. "..your royal highness," were you insinuating what he thought you were? surely you weren't.

"spar with me."

the blond winces at that, shaking his head furiously. "how could i? a lowly knight like me should never-" his body tenses up when he feels the sword's cool metal against his throat — right over his adam's apple.

"afraid you'll lose?" you arch an eyebrow.

william sighs. "my head, yes." he sucks in air. "i'm afraid i may accidentally hurt you, your grace."

"i thought you were proud of your skills."

"not at the cost of drawing your grace's blood."

a noise makes it's way out of you, something between a chortle and an unbelieving scoff. "you will draw blood from me either way, directly or indirectly, if you are too weak to protect me when i need you."

william has his eyebrows furrowed, but is silent. his gaze is as empty as always, always dead, never truly on you, never meeting your eyes. he looks somewhere far, far away. a place only he can see.

"..as you say, your grace."

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

you grip the hilt of your sword tightly. a thin line of sweat trickles down your brow, and you can feel a dull ache in your muscles from your relentless training. as the firstborn child and heir to the throne, you've pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove your worth alongside the male knights.

william circles you warily, his keen eyes scanning for any openings, but he's hesitant in his movements. "i don't wish to hurt you, your grace," he says, his brows creased in concern. "perhaps we should call it off?"

you feel a flash of irritation at his words, you've worked hard every day, harder than any male knight so you can be acknowledged — even if by the slightest. "do not treat me as if i am a delicate wallflower. i am your equal right now; your opponent."

a fresh cut on his cheek oozes blood, and his sleeve is ripped, exposing a nasty bruise on his forearm. he winces when he feels a particularly strong pang of pain on each of them. he's also panting, just as you are. good, you think to yourself. he's getting tired.

"hff..haa.."

you can feel a slight sting on your own skin where william's blade had grazed you earlier. with a huff and a sudden flurry of movement, he lunges forward, sword slicing through the air. you parry the blow, the clash of steel ringing out across the training yard.

there was no doubt about this; he was strong. you could feel it when his blade clashed against yours and he pushed against you with an almost inhuman strength. your lips curve upwards. pushing back, you counterattack, raining a flurry of blows upon him.

"you seem.. exhausted, your grace." william observes. sweat pours down your face, and your muscles scream in protest, but you refuse to give an inch.

"not as much as—" you grunt. "—you, though."

william struggles to keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he desperately blocks your strikes. seizing an opening, you lunge forward and sweep his legs out from under him, sending him falling to the ground. he tries to get back up, tries to search for his sword beside him but is too panicked to actually calm himself down and find it. he freezes when he feels the tip of your blade stop just shy of his throat.

and his eyes go wide.

"yield," you command, your voice firm and unyielding.

william stares up at you, his expression a mix of admiration and begrudging respect. you truly are on a level of your own. his breath is ragged and his chest is heaving up and down. from his perspective down here you look almost ethereal. divine. to him, the sun behind you and you yourself seem and are the same.

no wonder the gods chose you from every other being, no wonder you are their favourite daughter.

"i yield." he mutters.

the training ground is basked in a hue of golden. the trees rustle with the winds. "your grace," his voice is trembling as he speaks. he had underestimated you and that lead to his loss. no—even if he had been as cautious as one can be, he would have still lost, he would have still been overpowered to this extent.

you let your sword drop with trembling hands, only now realising how much of a fierce opponent he himself was now that the adrenaline has left your body. "speak."

william shakily drops to his knees, his head bowed deep. his fingers only now find his sword and he raises it past his head, holding each side. "i pledge my eternal devotion to you," he declares, his voice ringing with conviction. "i shall be your sword, your shield, your most steadfast protector. wherever your path may lead, to the heavens or to hell; i will follow you."

william's gaze lifts, and you are struck by the unwavering adoration in his eyes — a reverence that borders on the divine. for the first time you see his eyes glow. he would not just die for you; he would conquer kingdoms, he would lay waste to armies, he would move mountains to ensure your victory.

"i will follow you to the very edges of the known and the unknown worlds, if you will have me. for your breath is the very reason for my own, and your triumph is the only salvation i seek."

a knight's pledge.

"..." you can only watch in silence. it's almost beautiful the way he speaks, the loyalty that finally blooms in his gaze and his mannerisms when he looks at you.

your heart is drumming — how long you've yearned to hear this; to have your own willing knight, to serve you even if having a woman as a master is considered shameful and looked down upon by others.

slowly, you reach out and grasp the dagger, your fingers closing around the ornate hilt.

"i accept your vow, sir william," you say, your voice infused with the same reverence that shines in his eyes. william realizes that it's the first time you've spoken his name, and what a blissful thing it is, to finally serve someone worthy. "i will gladly have you at my side, as my most trusted knight.. and friend."

he smiles almost triumphantly and brings the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto it.

in that moment, you know that with william by your side, there is nothing you cannot accomplish. for in his eyes, you are not just a mere princess, but a goddess, his goddess. a saviour — one to worship.

"thank you."

[alvinflavored]

i know i've said this on my main blog but i'll say it ere anyway — this is such a delight to me. i genuinely love this very, very much. thank you for making this !!

Fanart based on @alvinflavored 's new fanfic! ( @tulipsforvin )

I'm obsessed with this trope, I can't wait to see how the story will unfold!

(also did I accidentally make reader look like Fiona?)

[alvinflavored]

WHAT THE HELL LMAOAOA THAJNK YOU

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS

→ WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY x F!READER FANTASY ROYAL AU

CW!/##: misogyny

"no matter what anyone might say to you, (name), understand this; you were made to escape these earthly bounds and to claim your rightful throne alongside the celestial titans—"

"—you were made to conquer the stars."

✦ CH 1: A Vow To The Heir

as constant and stagnant the cycle of death and life is, the eon old war also continues on and on; forever and ever. an emperor rises, he serves his purpose against the enemy empire as long as his breath will allow him to, and in the end, falls into the great deep.

the hellish, almost eternal cycle went on for centuries. that was, at least, until you were born.

"hear me, all nobles. she is a woman! firstborn as she might be — you most definitely cannot appoint her as the next heir to the throne!"

"blasphemous, grand duke! lady (name) was prophesized to bring an end to the eon long war by the gods! how dare you try and refute the divine?!"

"and yet you refuse to call her the crown princess, marquis! how hypocritical can one truly be?"

"SILENCE!"

you hear the old emperor's voice booming. and though he has become weary with age and his voice has grown hoarse, he is still the emperor—a hush falls over the high nobles that had been arguing in the meeting hall. you wince, fingers tightening around your dress as you trudge away through the hallway, not wanting to eavesdrop further than you have.

you did not want to hover over the fact that a debate in the house of nobles has begun once again, due to your birth and existence — a cruel thing life could be.

"having a pleasant evening, sister?"

your fourth brother speaks wittily, appearing out of the blue when you turn a corner. "i found a pet for you. or rather," he grins. "a 'knight' to protect you."

you are met with a man of an imposing height yet falling on the slimmer and weaker side, hair as golden as the sun and eyes as scarlet as blood. blood that has been countlessly spilled on the battlegrounds.

(e/c) pupils fall to his clothes; ornamented in expensive jewellery, scarlet clothes. a finely decorated man. in other words; like master like servant — your fourth brother was poorly trying to convey that you were nothing but a mere decoration.

you flinch when those lifeless eyes, defiant eyes that says his heart doesn't have a place for anybody, meet with yours and it was clear that your brother was insulting you.

"your royal highness." the blond's upper body falls into a deep bow, his gloved hand over his beating heart. his lashes too, you realise, are golden in colour. "it is my greatest honour to serve and protect you."

you clear your throat, lift your chin high, make an effort to seem composed — as anybody of your stature should be at all times. "lift your head." you speak, and he does. you turn to your fourth brother. "and pray tell, brother, does our father agree to this?"

"of course." he scoffs. "i found this guy," he slings a shoulder around the blond. the blond stiffens. "but father is the one who recommended him to take the position of your knight. after all, his word is absolute."

this was just a snide way of the old emperor implying that he was indifferent towards you; his daughter. perhaps he was trying to kill you off but his severe, deep rooted fear of angering the gods was holding him back — that is why he resorted to sending you such a weak looking man to 'protect' you, as he says.

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

"if you are uncomfortable with me, your highness, would you prefer i call upon the maids instead?" the blond speaks as his back is turned towards you; facing the wall with his hands behind his back.

it's been a few weeks since this blond has become your knight. the two of you are very much in your own worlds entirely—an odd match. everytime you try and converse with him, he finds every chance to run away—as if he doesn't want to be in the same room as you, as if it is a pain, as if it is a chore.

serving a female master surely might be.

"no, i'm-" you suck in a deep breath, trying to make the chain armour fit on your body. a woman's body was not suited for it since they were made for and used by men in war or sparring practice. "-ugh. fine."

the blond can hear you struggle from the way you're breathing hard. "you are the heir to the throne, are you not? why do you not leave the fighting and the physical combat to the knights instead?"

that strikes a nerve somewhere inside you.

clatter.

"you are my knight, are you not? why do you not leave the advising & nagging to the advisors instead?"

your knight turns to look at the dagger between his index and middle finger that you threw at him with incredible speed, and which he caught with ease.

"....forgive this fool's insolence."

william never seems to truly respect you. even when being insulted by your siblings or ministers while you're on your walks, he stays on the sidelines, takes on the role of a chameleon and stays utterly quiet.

"you have quick reflexes." your eyes shoot up, straightening yourself. the knight looks down to observe the dagger in his hand; ornamented with fine jewels and designs emblazoned onto the blade. "how much have you trained?" you question him.

"as much training as any knight was allowed to have, your royal highness." william murmurs quietly. dull, you think. he doesn't seem to have his own personality. a ragdoll or a puppet, of sorts.

"but you agree you are talented than most peers."

he hesitates. speaks: "i am proud of my capabilities."

that makes you smile, makes you think there's something there—not just this large wall he's put up.

willam watches as your body spins around, grabbing something long and sharp. it's only when you turn back that he understands what that object in your hand is, and what you're implying. "catch."

his gloved fist wraps around the metal of the sword. "..your royal highness," were you insinuating what he thought you were? surely you weren't.

"spar with me."

the blond winces at that, shaking his head furiously. "how could i? a lowly knight like me should never-" his body tenses up when he feels the sword's cool metal against his throat — right over his adam's apple.

"afraid you'll lose?" you arch an eyebrow.

william sighs. "my head, yes." he sucks in air. "i'm afraid i may accidentally hurt you, your grace."

"i thought you were proud of your skills."

"not at the cost of drawing your grace's blood."

a noise makes it's way out of you, something between a chortle and an unbelieving scoff. "you will draw blood from me either way, directly or indirectly, if you are too weak to protect me when i need you."

william has his eyebrows furrowed, but is silent. his gaze is as empty as always, always dead, never truly on you, never meeting your eyes. he looks somewhere far, far away. a place only he can see.

"..as you say, your grace."

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

you grip the hilt of your sword tightly. a thin line of sweat trickles down your brow, and you can feel a dull ache in your muscles from your relentless training. as the firstborn child and heir to the throne, you've pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove your worth alongside the male knights.

william circles you warily, his keen eyes scanning for any openings, but he's hesitant in his movements. "i don't wish to hurt you, your grace," he says, his brows creased in concern. "perhaps we should call it off?"

you feel a flash of irritation at his words, you've worked hard every day, harder than any male knight so you can be acknowledged — even if by the slightest. "do not treat me as if i am a delicate wallflower. i am your equal right now; your opponent."

a fresh cut on his cheek oozes blood, and his sleeve is ripped, exposing a nasty bruise on his forearm. he winces when he feels a particularly strong pang of pain on each of them. he's also panting, just as you are. good, you think to yourself. he's getting tired.

"hff..haa.."

you can feel a slight sting on your own skin where william's blade had grazed you earlier. with a huff and a sudden flurry of movement, he lunges forward, sword slicing through the air. you parry the blow, the clash of steel ringing out across the training yard.

there was no doubt about this; he was strong. you could feel it when his blade clashed against yours and he pushed against you with an almost inhuman strength. your lips curve upwards. pushing back, you counterattack, raining a flurry of blows upon him.

"you seem.. exhausted, your grace." william observes. sweat pours down your face, and your muscles scream in protest, but you refuse to give an inch.

"not as much as—" you grunt. "—you, though."

william struggles to keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he desperately blocks your strikes. seizing an opening, you lunge forward and sweep his legs out from under him, sending him falling to the ground. he tries to get back up, tries to search for his sword beside him but is too panicked to actually calm himself down and find it. he freezes when he feels the tip of your blade stop just shy of his throat.

and his eyes go wide.

"yield," you command, your voice firm and unyielding.

william stares up at you, his expression a mix of admiration and begrudging respect. you truly are on a level of your own. his breath is ragged and his chest is heaving up and down. from his perspective down here you look almost ethereal. divine. to him, the sun behind you and you yourself seem and are the same.

no wonder the gods chose you from every other being, no wonder you are their favourite daughter.

"i yield." he mutters.

the training ground is basked in a hue of golden. the trees rustle with the winds. "your grace," his voice is trembling as he speaks. he had underestimated you and that lead to his loss. no—even if he had been as cautious as one can be, he would have still lost, he would have still been overpowered to this extent.

you let your sword drop with trembling hands, only now realising how much of a fierce opponent he himself was now that the adrenaline has left your body. "speak."

william shakily drops to his knees, his head bowed deep. his fingers only now find his sword and he raises it past his head, holding each side. "i pledge my eternal devotion to you," he declares, his voice ringing with conviction. "i shall be your sword, your shield, your most steadfast protector. wherever your path may lead, to the heavens or to hell; i will follow you."

william's gaze lifts, and you are struck by the unwavering adoration in his eyes — a reverence that borders on the divine. for the first time you see his eyes glow. he would not just die for you; he would conquer kingdoms, he would lay waste to armies, he would move mountains to ensure your victory.

"i will follow you to the very edges of the known and the unknown worlds, if you will have me. for your breath is the very reason for my own, and your triumph is the only salvation i seek."

a knight's pledge.

"..." you can only watch in silence. it's almost beautiful the way he speaks, the loyalty that finally blooms in his gaze and his mannerisms when he looks at you.

your heart is drumming — how long you've yearned to hear this; to have your own willing knight, to serve you even if having a woman as a master is considered shameful and looked down upon by others.

slowly, you reach out and grasp the dagger, your fingers closing around the ornate hilt.

"i accept your vow, sir william," you say, your voice infused with the same reverence that shines in his eyes. william realizes that it's the first time you've spoken his name, and what a blissful thing it is, to finally serve someone worthy. "i will gladly have you at my side, as my most trusted knight.. and friend."

he smiles almost triumphantly and brings the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto it.

in that moment, you know that with william by your side, there is nothing you cannot accomplish. for in his eyes, you are not just a mere princess, but a goddess, his goddess. a saviour — one to worship.

"thank you."

[alvinflavored]

FHANK YOUUUU SO MUCH ♡♡

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS ִֶָ

PROLOGUE— in an empire where the sun never set on it's dominions & the stars seemed to bow to it's might, a single figure stood to reshape destiny.

"you were born to inherit the stars."

the first born and heir to the throne, (name), in an empire that despised the very notion of a female ruler, bore the weight of an ancient prophecy on her shoulders. the gods had decreed that she alone would lead the empire to victory in an age-long war against it's rival empire and conquer the heavens.

despite the divine proclamation, her oath to the throne was fraught with obstacles. the imperial court and even her own siblings were a bastion of patriarchal tradition who conspired ceaselessly to cause her fall, with each nobleman convinced that a woman could never command their empire's might.

"how can a woman lead us?"

this all changes, however, when a knight enters her life. presented as a sword to protect (name), william was tall yet seemed weak, eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. yet, as weeks turn into months, the lines between duty and desire began to blur.

the walls that the heir had built around herself crumble at her affection, but why is it so that for william, this soon became a torment? every smile, every secret and displays of affection drove a dagger deeper, and deeper into his soul. mysteries unfold, betrayal occurs, tears are shed, fury swallows.

"you—of all people—you do this to me."

and at the end of it all, the prophecy had come to pass — the stars were finally (name)'s to command, her throne besides the celestial titans guaranteed.

yet why does victory taste of ash and blood?

love in the end, is eclipsed by shadows of her destiny.

"i have been too late in my confession."

you fall to your knees. tears, blood & grime stain your face as you gather the fading man into your arms.

"i can see the stars, (name)."

you smile; yet your lips are quivering and pained. you must stay strong for this person. "yes. everything is fine now, my dear. get some rest for me."

"it has been a long time since i last saw the stars."

and as the twinkling lights of the empire came into view of the night sky, your's disappeared forever.

— inspired by 'THE TITAN'S CURSE'

[alvinflavored]

vin do you happen to have a thing for Adam's apple

/j i just noticed you mention it quite a bit often LMAO loved the 1st chapter btw

LMFAOOOO i can't believe im this obvious bro 😭. i'll have to be more subtle with my adam's apple obsession from this point onwards

also arghhhh thanks carmilla, i'm glad you liked it. thank you for reading my stuff

[alvinflavored]

I WANT TO SPOIL SO BAD IM BEING HELD BACK BY LEASHES RUFF RUFF RFJFDJD ‼️‼️ i don't know how writers keep all that information stored away from others without babbling it away on like a speaker somewhere because i am STRUGGLING

ALSO I WAS THINKING THE SAME WHEN I WAS FRST FIGURING OUT THE PLOT ,, i was like. but he's smart though. why would i give someone as intellectual as him such a brute-ish job. BUT THEN I FIGURED IT OUT. SOMEWHAT. something that's kind of like, in par with his character 😭 im so impatient to show it to everyone

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS 𓍢ִ໋ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

WJ. MORIARTY x F!READER AU // KNIGHT x ROYAL TROPE

prologue. chapter I. chapter II. chapter III.

expected up to 15-20 chapters 𓍢ִ໋ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

DEAD DOVES, DO NOT EAT // TAGS —

† angst, death of humans, death of animals, war, misogyny, betrayal, depression, trauma, implications of gore&torture [will be tagged in the chapters beforehand, so don't worry], heavy topics.

GENRE —

† romance, action, mystery, thriller, slowburn

CHARACTER CAST BELOW [ADDING MORE IN FUTURE] 🔻

WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY as a knight

"if I could, i would carve the ridges of your spine into the mountains so that all may stand before the peaks of your magnificence."

[NAME] [LAST NAME] as the empire's heir

"so come to me then, whether it be as a paramour of mine or an executioner of mine — i will be ready to receive you in every form."

[alvinflavored]

I'M HAPPY YOU LIKED IT !!!

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS

→ WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY x F!READER FANTASY ROYAL AU

CW!/##: misogyny

"no matter what anyone might say to you, (name), understand this; you were made to escape these earthly bounds and to claim your rightful throne alongside the celestial titans—"

"—you were made to conquer the stars."

✦ CH 1: A Vow To The Heir

as constant and stagnant the cycle of death and life is, the eon old war also continues on and on; forever and ever. an emperor rises, he serves his purpose against the enemy empire as long as his breath will allow him to, and in the end, falls into the great deep.

the hellish, almost eternal cycle went on for centuries. that was, at least, until you were born.

"hear me, all nobles. she is a woman! firstborn as she might be — you most definitely cannot appoint her as the next heir to the throne!"

"blasphemous, grand duke! lady (name) was prophesized to bring an end to the eon long war by the gods! how dare you try and refute the divine?!"

"and yet you refuse to call her the crown princess, marquis! how hypocritical can one truly be?"

"SILENCE!"

you hear the old emperor's voice booming. and though he has become weary with age and his voice has grown hoarse, he is still the emperor—a hush falls over the high nobles that had been arguing in the meeting hall. you wince, fingers tightening around your dress as you trudge away through the hallway, not wanting to eavesdrop further than you have.

you did not want to hover over the fact that a debate in the house of nobles has begun once again, due to your birth and existence — a cruel thing life could be.

"having a pleasant evening, sister?"

your fourth brother speaks wittily, appearing out of the blue when you turn a corner. "i found a pet for you. or rather," he grins. "a 'knight' to protect you."

you are met with a man of an imposing height yet falling on the slimmer and weaker side, hair as golden as the sun and eyes as scarlet as blood. blood that has been countlessly spilled on the battlegrounds.

(e/c) pupils fall to his clothes; ornamented in expensive jewellery, scarlet clothes. a finely decorated man. in other words; like master like servant — your fourth brother was poorly trying to convey that you were nothing but a mere decoration.

you flinch when those lifeless eyes, defiant eyes that says his heart doesn't have a place for anybody, meet with yours and it was clear that your brother was insulting you.

"your royal highness." the blond's upper body falls into a deep bow, his gloved hand over his beating heart. his lashes too, you realise, are golden in colour. "it is my greatest honour to serve and protect you."

you clear your throat, lift your chin high, make an effort to seem composed — as anybody of your stature should be at all times. "lift your head." you speak, and he does. you turn to your fourth brother. "and pray tell, brother, does our father agree to this?"

"of course." he scoffs. "i found this guy," he slings a shoulder around the blond. the blond stiffens. "but father is the one who recommended him to take the position of your knight. after all, his word is absolute."

this was just a snide way of the old emperor implying that he was indifferent towards you; his daughter. perhaps he was trying to kill you off but his severe, deep rooted fear of angering the gods was holding him back — that is why he resorted to sending you such a weak looking man to 'protect' you, as he says.

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

"if you are uncomfortable with me, your highness, would you prefer i call upon the maids instead?" the blond speaks as his back is turned towards you; facing the wall with his hands behind his back.

it's been a few weeks since this blond has become your knight. the two of you are very much in your own worlds entirely—an odd match. everytime you try and converse with him, he finds every chance to run away—as if he doesn't want to be in the same room as you, as if it is a pain, as if it is a chore.

serving a female master surely might be.

"no, i'm-" you suck in a deep breath, trying to make the chain armour fit on your body. a woman's body was not suited for it since they were made for and used by men in war or sparring practice. "-ugh. fine."

the blond can hear you struggle from the way you're breathing hard. "you are the heir to the throne, are you not? why do you not leave the fighting and the physical combat to the knights instead?"

that strikes a nerve somewhere inside you.

clatter.

"you are my knight, are you not? why do you not leave the advising & nagging to the advisors instead?"

your knight turns to look at the dagger between his index and middle finger that you threw at him with incredible speed, and which he caught with ease.

"....forgive this fool's insolence."

william never seems to truly respect you. even when being insulted by your siblings or ministers while you're on your walks, he stays on the sidelines, takes on the role of a chameleon and stays utterly quiet.

"you have quick reflexes." your eyes shoot up, straightening yourself. the knight looks down to observe the dagger in his hand; ornamented with fine jewels and designs emblazoned onto the blade. "how much have you trained?" you question him.

"as much training as any knight was allowed to have, your royal highness." william murmurs quietly. dull, you think. he doesn't seem to have his own personality. a ragdoll or a puppet, of sorts.

"but you agree you are talented than most peers."

he hesitates. speaks: "i am proud of my capabilities."

that makes you smile, makes you think there's something there—not just this large wall he's put up.

willam watches as your body spins around, grabbing something long and sharp. it's only when you turn back that he understands what that object in your hand is, and what you're implying. "catch."

his gloved fist wraps around the metal of the sword. "..your royal highness," were you insinuating what he thought you were? surely you weren't.

"spar with me."

the blond winces at that, shaking his head furiously. "how could i? a lowly knight like me should never-" his body tenses up when he feels the sword's cool metal against his throat — right over his adam's apple.

"afraid you'll lose?" you arch an eyebrow.

william sighs. "my head, yes." he sucks in air. "i'm afraid i may accidentally hurt you, your grace."

"i thought you were proud of your skills."

"not at the cost of drawing your grace's blood."

a noise makes it's way out of you, something between a chortle and an unbelieving scoff. "you will draw blood from me either way, directly or indirectly, if you are too weak to protect me when i need you."

william has his eyebrows furrowed, but is silent. his gaze is as empty as always, always dead, never truly on you, never meeting your eyes. he looks somewhere far, far away. a place only he can see.

"..as you say, your grace."

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

you grip the hilt of your sword tightly. a thin line of sweat trickles down your brow, and you can feel a dull ache in your muscles from your relentless training. as the firstborn child and heir to the throne, you've pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove your worth alongside the male knights.

william circles you warily, his keen eyes scanning for any openings, but he's hesitant in his movements. "i don't wish to hurt you, your grace," he says, his brows creased in concern. "perhaps we should call it off?"

you feel a flash of irritation at his words, you've worked hard every day, harder than any male knight so you can be acknowledged — even if by the slightest. "do not treat me as if i am a delicate wallflower. i am your equal right now; your opponent."

a fresh cut on his cheek oozes blood, and his sleeve is ripped, exposing a nasty bruise on his forearm. he winces when he feels a particularly strong pang of pain on each of them. he's also panting, just as you are. good, you think to yourself. he's getting tired.

"hff..haa.."

you can feel a slight sting on your own skin where william's blade had grazed you earlier. with a huff and a sudden flurry of movement, he lunges forward, sword slicing through the air. you parry the blow, the clash of steel ringing out across the training yard.

there was no doubt about this; he was strong. you could feel it when his blade clashed against yours and he pushed against you with an almost inhuman strength. your lips curve upwards. pushing back, you counterattack, raining a flurry of blows upon him.

"you seem.. exhausted, your grace." william observes. sweat pours down your face, and your muscles scream in protest, but you refuse to give an inch.

"not as much as—" you grunt. "—you, though."

william struggles to keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he desperately blocks your strikes. seizing an opening, you lunge forward and sweep his legs out from under him, sending him falling to the ground. he tries to get back up, tries to search for his sword beside him but is too panicked to actually calm himself down and find it. he freezes when he feels the tip of your blade stop just shy of his throat.

and his eyes go wide.

"yield," you command, your voice firm and unyielding.

william stares up at you, his expression a mix of admiration and begrudging respect. you truly are on a level of your own. his breath is ragged and his chest is heaving up and down. from his perspective down here you look almost ethereal. divine. to him, the sun behind you and you yourself seem and are the same.

no wonder the gods chose you from every other being, no wonder you are their favourite daughter.

"i yield." he mutters.

the training ground is basked in a hue of golden. the trees rustle with the winds. "your grace," his voice is trembling as he speaks. he had underestimated you and that lead to his loss. no—even if he had been as cautious as one can be, he would have still lost, he would have still been overpowered to this extent.

you let your sword drop with trembling hands, only now realising how much of a fierce opponent he himself was now that the adrenaline has left your body. "speak."

william shakily drops to his knees, his head bowed deep. his fingers only now find his sword and he raises it past his head, holding each side. "i pledge my eternal devotion to you," he declares, his voice ringing with conviction. "i shall be your sword, your shield, your most steadfast protector. wherever your path may lead, to the heavens or to hell; i will follow you."

william's gaze lifts, and you are struck by the unwavering adoration in his eyes — a reverence that borders on the divine. for the first time you see his eyes glow. he would not just die for you; he would conquer kingdoms, he would lay waste to armies, he would move mountains to ensure your victory.

"i will follow you to the very edges of the known and the unknown worlds, if you will have me. for your breath is the very reason for my own, and your triumph is the only salvation i seek."

a knight's pledge.

"..." you can only watch in silence. it's almost beautiful the way he speaks, the loyalty that finally blooms in his gaze and his mannerisms when he looks at you.

your heart is drumming — how long you've yearned to hear this; to have your own willing knight, to serve you even if having a woman as a master is considered shameful and looked down upon by others.

slowly, you reach out and grasp the dagger, your fingers closing around the ornate hilt.

"i accept your vow, sir william," you say, your voice infused with the same reverence that shines in his eyes. william realizes that it's the first time you've spoken his name, and what a blissful thing it is, to finally serve someone worthy. "i will gladly have you at my side, as my most trusted knight.. and friend."

he smiles almost triumphantly and brings the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto it.

in that moment, you know that with william by your side, there is nothing you cannot accomplish. for in his eyes, you are not just a mere princess, but a goddess, his goddess. a saviour — one to worship.

"thank you."

[alvinflavored]

I HOPE YOU'LL END UP LIKING IT ‼️‼️

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS 𓍢ִ໋ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

WJ. MORIARTY x F!READER AU // KNIGHT x ROYAL TROPE

prologue. chapter I. chapter II. chapter III.

expected up to 15-20 chapters 𓍢ִ໋ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

DEAD DOVES, DO NOT EAT // TAGS —

† angst, death of humans, death of animals, war, misogyny, betrayal, depression, trauma, implications of gore&torture [will be tagged in the chapters beforehand, so don't worry], heavy topics.

GENRE —

† romance, action, mystery, thriller, slowburn

CHARACTER CAST BELOW [ADDING MORE IN FUTURE] 🔻

WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY as a knight

"if I could, i would carve the ridges of your spine into the mountains so that all may stand before the peaks of your magnificence."

[NAME] [LAST NAME] as the empire's heir

"so come to me then, whether it be as a paramour of mine or an executioner of mine — i will be ready to receive you in every form."

[alvinflavored]

thinking of adding dual povs from both reader and william to this... idk...

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS 𓍢ִ໋ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

WJ. MORIARTY x F!READER AU // KNIGHT x ROYAL TROPE

prologue. chapter I. chapter II. chapter III.

expected up to 15-20 chapters 𓍢ִ໋ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

DEAD DOVES, DO NOT EAT // TAGS —

† angst, death of humans, death of animals, war, misogyny, betrayal, depression, trauma, implications of gore&torture [will be tagged in the chapters beforehand, so don't worry], heavy topics.

GENRE —

† romance, action, mystery, thriller, slowburn

CHARACTER CAST BELOW [ADDING MORE IN FUTURE] 🔻

WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY as a knight

"if I could, i would carve the ridges of your spine into the mountains so that all may stand before the peaks of your magnificence."

[NAME] [LAST NAME] as the empire's heir

"so come to me then, whether it be as a paramour of mine or an executioner of mine — i will be ready to receive you in every form."

[alvinflavored]

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS

→ WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY x F!READER FANTASY ROYAL AU

CW!/##: misogyny

"no matter what anyone might say to you, (name), understand this; you were made to escape these earthly bounds and to claim your rightful throne alongside the celestial titans—"

"—you were made to conquer the stars."

✦ CH 1: A Vow To The Heir

as constant and stagnant the cycle of death and life is, the eon old war also continues on and on; forever and ever. an emperor rises, he serves his purpose against the enemy empire as long as his breath will allow him to, and in the end, falls into the great deep.

the hellish, almost eternal cycle went on for centuries. that was, at least, until you were born.

"hear me, all nobles. she is a woman! firstborn as she might be — you most definitely cannot appoint her as the next heir to the throne!"

"blasphemous, grand duke! lady (name) was prophesized to bring an end to the eon long war by the gods! how dare you try and refute the divine?!"

"and yet you refuse to call her the crown princess, marquis! how hypocritical can one truly be?"

"SILENCE!"

you hear the old emperor's voice booming. and though he has become weary with age and his voice has grown hoarse, he is still the emperor—a hush falls over the high nobles that had been arguing in the meeting hall. you wince, fingers tightening around your dress as you trudge away through the hallway, not wanting to eavesdrop further than you have.

you did not want to hover over the fact that a debate in the house of nobles has begun once again, due to your birth and existence — a cruel thing life could be.

"having a pleasant evening, sister?"

your fourth brother speaks wittily, appearing out of the blue when you turn a corner. "i found a pet for you. or rather," he grins. "a 'knight' to protect you."

you are met with a man of an imposing height yet falling on the slimmer and weaker side, hair as golden as the sun and eyes as scarlet as blood. blood that has been countlessly spilled on the battlegrounds.

(e/c) pupils fall to his clothes; ornamented in expensive jewellery, scarlet clothes. a finely decorated man. in other words; like master like servant — your fourth brother was poorly trying to convey that you were nothing but a mere decoration.

you flinch when those lifeless eyes, defiant eyes that says his heart doesn't have a place for anybody, meet with yours and it was clear that your brother was insulting you.

"your royal highness." the blond's upper body falls into a deep bow, his gloved hand over his beating heart. his lashes too, you realise, are golden in colour. "it is my greatest honour to serve and protect you."

you clear your throat, lift your chin high, make an effort to seem composed — as anybody of your stature should be at all times. "lift your head." you speak, and he does. you turn to your fourth brother. "and pray tell, brother, does our father agree to this?"

"of course." he scoffs. "i found this guy," he slings a shoulder around the blond. the blond stiffens. "but father is the one who recommended him to take the position of your knight. after all, his word is absolute."

this was just a snide way of the old emperor implying that he was indifferent towards you; his daughter. perhaps he was trying to kill you off but his severe, deep rooted fear of angering the gods was holding him back — that is why he resorted to sending you such a weak looking man to 'protect' you, as he says.

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

"if you are uncomfortable with me, your highness, would you prefer i call upon the maids instead?" the blond speaks as his back is turned towards you; facing the wall with his hands behind his back.

it's been a few weeks since this blond has become your knight. the two of you are very much in your own worlds entirely—an odd match. everytime you try and converse with him, he finds every chance to run away—as if he doesn't want to be in the same room as you, as if it is a pain, as if it is a chore.

serving a female master surely might be.

"no, i'm-" you suck in a deep breath, trying to make the chain armour fit on your body. a woman's body was not suited for it since they were made for and used by men in war or sparring practice. "-ugh. fine."

the blond can hear you struggle from the way you're breathing hard. "you are the heir to the throne, are you not? why do you not leave the fighting and the physical combat to the knights instead?"

that strikes a nerve somewhere inside you.

clatter.

"you are my knight, are you not? why do you not leave the advising & nagging to the advisors instead?"

your knight turns to look at the dagger between his index and middle finger that you threw at him with incredible speed, and which he caught with ease.

"....forgive this fool's insolence."

william never seems to truly respect you. even when being insulted by your siblings or ministers while you're on your walks, he stays on the sidelines, takes on the role of a chameleon and stays utterly quiet.

"you have quick reflexes." your eyes shoot up, straightening yourself. the knight looks down to observe the dagger in his hand; ornamented with fine jewels and designs emblazoned onto the blade. "how much have you trained?" you question him.

"as much training as any knight was allowed to have, your royal highness." william murmurs quietly. dull, you think. he doesn't seem to have his own personality. a ragdoll or a puppet, of sorts.

"but you agree you are talented than most peers."

he hesitates. speaks: "i am proud of my capabilities."

that makes you smile, makes you think there's something there—not just this large wall he's put up.

willam watches as your body spins around, grabbing something long and sharp. it's only when you turn back that he understands what that object in your hand is, and what you're implying. "catch."

his gloved fist wraps around the metal of the sword. "..your royal highness," were you insinuating what he thought you were? surely you weren't.

"spar with me."

the blond winces at that, shaking his head furiously. "how could i? a lowly knight like me should never-" his body tenses up when he feels the sword's cool metal against his throat — right over his adam's apple.

"afraid you'll lose?" you arch an eyebrow.

william sighs. "my head, yes." he sucks in air. "i'm afraid i may accidentally hurt you, your grace."

"i thought you were proud of your skills."

"not at the cost of drawing your grace's blood."

a noise makes it's way out of you, something between a chortle and an unbelieving scoff. "you will draw blood from me either way, directly or indirectly, if you are too weak to protect me when i need you."

william has his eyebrows furrowed, but is silent. his gaze is as empty as always, always dead, never truly on you, never meeting your eyes. he looks somewhere far, far away. a place only he can see.

"..as you say, your grace."

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

you grip the hilt of your sword tightly. a thin line of sweat trickles down your brow, and you can feel a dull ache in your muscles from your relentless training. as the firstborn child and heir to the throne, you've pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove your worth alongside the male knights.

william circles you warily, his keen eyes scanning for any openings, but he's hesitant in his movements. "i don't wish to hurt you, your grace," he says, his brows creased in concern. "perhaps we should call it off?"

you feel a flash of irritation at his words, you've worked hard every day, harder than any male knight so you can be acknowledged — even if by the slightest. "do not treat me as if i am a delicate wallflower. i am your equal right now; your opponent."

a fresh cut on his cheek oozes blood, and his sleeve is ripped, exposing a nasty bruise on his forearm. he winces when he feels a particularly strong pang of pain on each of them. he's also panting, just as you are. good, you think to yourself. he's getting tired.

"hff..haa.."

you can feel a slight sting on your own skin where william's blade had grazed you earlier. with a huff and a sudden flurry of movement, he lunges forward, sword slicing through the air. you parry the blow, the clash of steel ringing out across the training yard.

there was no doubt about this; he was strong. you could feel it when his blade clashed against yours and he pushed against you with an almost inhuman strength. your lips curve upwards. pushing back, you counterattack, raining a flurry of blows upon him.

"you seem.. exhausted, your grace." william observes. sweat pours down your face, and your muscles scream in protest, but you refuse to give an inch.

"not as much as—" you grunt. "—you, though."

william struggles to keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he desperately blocks your strikes. seizing an opening, you lunge forward and sweep his legs out from under him, sending him falling to the ground. he tries to get back up, tries to search for his sword beside him but is too panicked to actually calm himself down and find it. he freezes when he feels the tip of your blade stop just shy of his throat.

and his eyes go wide.

"yield," you command, your voice firm and unyielding.

william stares up at you, his expression a mix of admiration and begrudging respect. you truly are on a level of your own. his breath is ragged and his chest is heaving up and down. from his perspective down here you look almost ethereal. divine. to him, the sun behind you and you yourself seem and are the same.

no wonder the gods chose you from every other being, no wonder you are their favourite daughter.

"i yield." he mutters.

the training ground is basked in a hue of golden. the trees rustle with the winds. "your grace," his voice is trembling as he speaks. he had underestimated you and that lead to his loss. no—even if he had been as cautious as one can be, he would have still lost, he would have still been overpowered to this extent.

you let your sword drop with trembling hands, only now realising how much of a fierce opponent he himself was now that the adrenaline has left your body. "speak."

william shakily drops to his knees, his head bowed deep. his fingers only now find his sword and he raises it past his head, holding each side. "i pledge my eternal devotion to you," he declares, his voice ringing with conviction. "i shall be your sword, your shield, your most steadfast protector. wherever your path may lead, to the heavens or to hell; i will follow you."

william's gaze lifts, and you are struck by the unwavering adoration in his eyes — a reverence that borders on the divine. for the first time you see his eyes glow. he would not just die for you; he would conquer kingdoms, he would lay waste to armies, he would move mountains to ensure your victory.

"i will follow you to the very edges of the known and the unknown worlds, if you will have me. for your breath is the very reason for my own, and your triumph is the only salvation i seek."

a knight's pledge.

"..." you can only watch in silence. it's almost beautiful the way he speaks, the loyalty that finally blooms in his gaze and his mannerisms when he looks at you.

your heart is drumming — how long you've yearned to hear this; to have your own willing knight, to serve you even if having a woman as a master is considered shameful and looked down upon by others.

slowly, you reach out and grasp the dagger, your fingers closing around the ornate hilt.

"i accept your vow, sir william," you say, your voice infused with the same reverence that shines in his eyes. william realizes that it's the first time you've spoken his name, and what a blissful thing it is, to finally serve someone worthy. "i will gladly have you at my side, as my most trusted knight.. and friend."

he smiles almost triumphantly and brings the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto it.

in that moment, you know that with william by your side, there is nothing you cannot accomplish. for in his eyes, you are not just a mere princess, but a goddess, his goddess. a saviour — one to worship.

"thank you."

[alvinflavored]

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS ִֶָ

PROLOGUE— in an empire where the sun never set on it's dominions & the stars seemed to bow to it's might, a single figure stood to reshape destiny.

"you were born to inherit the stars."

the first born and heir to the throne, (name), in an empire that despised the very notion of a female ruler, bore the weight of an ancient prophecy on her shoulders. the gods had decreed that she alone would lead the empire to victory in an age-long war against it's rival empire and conquer the heavens.

despite the divine proclamation, her oath to the throne was fraught with obstacles. the imperial court and even her own siblings were a bastion of patriarchal tradition who conspired ceaselessly to cause her fall, with each nobleman convinced that a woman could never command their empire's might.

"how can a woman lead us?"

this all changes, however, when a knight enters her life. presented as a sword to protect (name), william was tall yet seemed weak, eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. yet, as weeks turn into months, the lines between duty and desire began to blur.

the walls that the heir had built around herself crumble at her affection, but why is it so that for william, this soon became a torment? every smile, every secret and displays of affection drove a dagger deeper, and deeper into his soul. mysteries unfold, betrayal occurs, tears are shed, fury swallows.

"you—of all people—you do this to me."

and at the end of it all, the prophecy had come to pass — the stars were finally (name)'s to command, her throne besides the celestial titans guaranteed.

yet why does victory taste of ash and blood?

love in the end, is eclipsed by shadows of her destiny.

"i have been too late in my confession."

you fall to your knees. tears, blood & grime stain your face as you gather the fading man into your arms.

"i can see the stars, (name)."

you smile; yet your lips are quivering and pained. you must stay strong for this person. "yes. everything is fine now, my dear. get some rest for me."

"it has been a long time since i last saw the stars."

and as the twinkling lights of the empire came into view of the night sky, your's disappeared forever.

— inspired by 'THE TITAN'S CURSE'

[alvinflavored]

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS 𓍢ִ໋ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

WJ. MORIARTY x F!READER AU // KNIGHT x ROYAL TROPE

prologue. chapter I. chapter II. chapter III.

expected up to 15-20 chapters 𓍢ִ໋ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

DEAD DOVES, DO NOT EAT // TAGS —

† angst, death of humans, death of animals, war, misogyny, betrayal, depression, trauma, implications of gore&torture [will be tagged in the chapters beforehand, so don't worry], heavy topics.

GENRE —

† romance, action, mystery, thriller, slowburn

CHARACTER CAST BELOW [ADDING MORE IN FUTURE] 🔻

WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY as a knight

"if I could, i would carve the ridges of your spine into the mountains so that all may stand before the peaks of your magnificence."

[NAME] [LAST NAME] as the empire's heir

"so come to me then, whether it be as a paramour of mine or an executioner of mine — i will be ready to receive you in every form."

[alvinflavored]

Hi