#and the second youngest is in love with the son of two castle aids

[sqlmn]

OC RNG stuff.

-Lucinda is engaged to the oldest prince in a family of nine where there are 8 brothers and then the youngest is the only girl. She adores her future husband. -Ink Blot is a really dumb mage who acts as a street performer using fake magic despite being an actual mage. He just wants to be the center of attention. -Ruby and Luce are from the same plot (thank you RNG I love the dream wardens). They're part of different pairs and basically just patrol to keep dreams in check. Ruby and Luce also don't really meet each other in canon. Their routes don't overlap but they both interact with the main duo which is Colette and Marcus. (Ruby wants to beat Marcus up while Luce wants to kiss Marcus for what it matters.)

[aloneinstitute]

🇬🇧👑💐🌿 QUEEN ELIZABETH II 🌿💐👑🇬🇧

Elizabeth was born at 2:40 on 21st April 1926, during the reign of her paternal grandfather, King George V. Her father, the Duke of York (later King George VI) was the second son of the King. Her mother, the Duchess of York)later Queen Elizabeth The Queen mother), was the youngest daughter of Scottish aristocraft Claude Bowes- lyon, 14th Earl of strathmore and Kinghorne,at whose London home (17 bruton Street, Mayfair).

she was baptised by the Anglican Archbishop of York, cosmo Gordon lang, in the private Chapel of Buckingham Palace on 29th May, and named Elizabeth after her mother, Alexander after her paternal great-grandmother, who had died six months earlier, and Mary after her paternal grandmother. Called "lilibet" by her close family, based on what she called herself at first she was cherished by her grandfather, George V, whom she affectionately called "Grandpa England, and her regular visits during his serious illness in 1929 were credited in the popular press and by later biographers with raising his spirits and aiding his recovery.

Elizabeth's only sibling princess Margaret, was born in 1930. The two princesses were educated at home under the supervision of their mother and their governess, marion Crawford. Lessons concentrated on history, language, literature, and music. Crawford published a biography of Elizabeth and Margaret's childhood years entitled The little princesses in 1950,much to the dismay of the Royal family.

The book describes Elizabeth's love of horses and dogs, her orderliness, and her attitude of responsibility. Others echoed such observations:Winston Churchill described Elizabeth when she was two as a character. She has an air of authority and reflectiveness astonishing in an infant. Her cousin Margaret Rhodes described her as a jolly little girl, but fundamentally sensible and well behaved.

During her grandfather's reign,Elizabeth was third in the line of succession to the British throne, behind her uncle Edward and her father. Although her birth generated public interest, she was not expected to become Queen, as Edward was still young and likely to marry and have children of his own, who would precede Elizabeth in the line of succession.

When her grandfather died in 1936 and her uncle succeeded as Edward VIII, she became second in line to the throne after her father. Later that year, Edward abdicate, after his proposed marriage to divorced socialite wallis Simpson provoked a constitutional crisis. Consequently, Elizabeth's father became king, taking the regnal name George VI since Elizabeth had no brothers, she became heir presumptive. If her parents had subsequently borne a son,he would have been heir apparent and above her in the line of succession, which was determined by male preference primogeniture at the time.

Elizabeth received private tuition in constitutional history from Henry marten, vice provost of Eton college, and learned French from a succession of native speaking governesses. A girl guides company the 1st Buckingham Palace company, was formed specifically so she could socialise with girls her own age. Later she was enrolled as a sea ranger .

In 1939,Elizabeth's parents toured Canada and the United States. As in 1927, when they had toured Australia and New Zealand, Elizabeth remained in Britain, since her father thought her too young to undertake public tours. She looked tearful as her parents departed. They corresponded regularly and she and her parents made the first Royal transatlantic telephone call on 18th May.

In September 1939,Britain entered the second World War. Lord Hailsham suggested that princess Elizabeth and Margaret should be evacuated to Canada to avoid the frequent aerial bombings of London by the luftwaffe. This was rejected by their mother who declared, "The children won't go without me.I won't leave without the king. And the king will never leave. The princesses stayed at Balmoral Castle, Scotland, until Christmas 1939, when they moved to Sandringham House, Norfolk. From February to May 1940,they lived at Royal Lodge, Windsor, until moving to Windsor Castle, where they lived for most of the next five years.

At Windsor the princesses staged pantomimes at Christmas in aid of the Queens wool fund, which bought yarn to knit into military garments. In 1940 ,the 14 year old Elizabeth made her first radio broadcast during the BCCs children's hour, addressing other children who had been evacuated from the cities. She stated:"We are trying to do all we can to help our gallant sailors, soldiers, and airmen and we are trying too to bear our own share of the danger and sadness of war. We know, everyone of us, that in the end all will be well.

In 1943, Elizabeth undertook her first solo public appearance on a visit to the Grenadier guards, of which she had been appointed colonel the previous year. As she approached her 18th birthday, parliament changed the law so she could act as one of five counsellors of state in the event of her fathers incapacity or absence abroad, such as his visit to Italy in July 1944. In February 1945, she was appointed as an honorary second subaltern in the Auxiliary Territorial service with the service number of 230873. She trained as a driver and mechanic and was given the rank of honorary junior commander ( female equivalent of captain at the time) five months later.

At the end of the war in Europe on victory in Europe Day Elizabeth and Margaret mingled incognito with the celebrating crowds in the streets of London. Elizabeth said later in a rare interview, "We asked my parents of we could go out and see for ourselves. I remember lines of unknown people linking arms and walking down Whitehall, all of us just swept along on a tide of happiness and relief.

During the war, plans were drawn up to quell Welsh nationalism by affiliating Elizabeth more closely with Wales. Proposals, such as appointing her constable of caernarfon Castle or a patron of urdd Gobaith Cymru (the Welsh league of youth) ,were abandoned for several reasons, including fear of associating Elizabeth with conscientious objectors in the Urdd at a time when Britain was at war. Welsh politicians suggested she be made princess of Wales on her 18th birthday. Home Secretary Herbert morrison supported the idea but the kind rejected it because he felt such a title belonged solely to the wife of a Prince of Wales and the Prince of Wales had always been the heir apparent. In 1946, she was inducted into the Gorsedd of Bards at the national Eisteddfod of Wales.

Princess Elizabeth went on her first overseas tour in 1947, accompanying her parents through southern Africa. During the tour in a broadcast to the British commonwealth on her 21st birthday she made the following pledge: I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong. Tge speech was written by Dermot morrah, a journalist for the Times.

Elizabeth met her future husband, Prince Philip og Greece and Denmark, in 1934 and again in 1937 . They were second cousins once removed through king Christian IX of Denmark and third cousins through Queen Victoria. After meeting for the third time at the Royal Naval college in Dartmouth in July 1939, Elizabeth though only 13 years old said she fell in love with Philip and they began to exchange letters. She was 21 when their engagement was officially announced on 9th July 1947.

The engagement was not without controversy:Philip had no financial standing, was foreign born (though a British subject who had served in the Royal Navy throughout the second World War), and had sisters who had married German noblemen with Nazi links. Marion Crawford wrote "some of the King's advisors did not think him good enough for her. He was a prince without a home or kingdom. Some of the papers played long and loud tunes on the string of Philips foreign origin. Later biographies reported that Elizabeth's mother had reservations about the Union initially, and teased Philip as "The Hun . In later life however, the Queen mother told biographer Tim Heald that Philip was an English gentleman.

Before the marriage, Philip renowned his Greek and Danish titles, officially converted from Greek orthodox to Anglicanism and adopted the style lieutenant Philip mountbatten, taking the surname of his mother's British family. Shortly before the wedding, he was created Duke of Edinburgh and granted the style his Royal higness. Elizabeth and Philip were married on 20th November 1947 at Westminster Abbey. They received 2,500 wedding gifts from around the world. Elizabeth required ration coupons to buy the material for her gown (which was designed by Norman Hartnell) because Britain had not yet completely recovered from the devastation of the war. In post war Britain it was not acceptable for Philips German relations, including his three surviving sisters, to be invitation extended to the Duke of Windsor, formerly king Edward VIII.

Elizabeth their wedding, the couple leased Windlesham moor, near Windsor Castle, until July 1949, When they took up residence at Clarence House in London. At various times between 1949 and 1951, The Duke of Edinburgh was stationed in the British crown colony of malta as a serving Royal navy officer. He and Elizabeth lived intermittently in malta for several months at a time in hamlet of Gwardamanga, at villa Guardamangia, the rented home of Philips uncle lord Mountbatten. Their two children remained in Britain.

On 8th September 2022 Buckingham Palace announced that the Queen was under medical supervision at Balmoral Castle after doctors expressed concern The statement read: Following further evaluation this morning the queen's doctors are concerned for her majesty's health and have recommended she remain under medical supervision. The Queen remains comfortable and at Balmoral. The Queens four children, along with her daughters in law, and grandsons prince William and prince Harry, travelled to be with her. Her death was confirmed that evening, setting in motion operation London Bridge and operation unicorn.

She was the longest reigning monarch serving 70 years an 214 days. Died peacefully in bed at Balmoral Castle 8th September 2022, age 96 years. Rest in peace your majesty Queen Elizabeth II 👑

🇬🇧👑💐🇬🇧👑💐🇬🇧👑💐🇬🇧👑💐🇬🇧👑💐🇬🇧👑💐

[the-writing-mill]

Fantasy au arranged marriage, pairing of choice involving Obi-Wan?

Is this... is this about the arranged marriage fantasy AU I abandoned for homework on the discord yesterday? Is that what’s going on here, anon? Are you on the discord server or does everyone just have this sort of thing on the brain recently?

In either case though I shan’t rehash that but do something else lol

Obi-Wan is born as the third royal prince in a mountainous, vaguely European country. The world is about at renaissance level technology, with a few bonuses due to the presence of magic (and magical creatures)

His majesty, King Qui-Gon Jinn, is a moral, stubborn ruler who is thought of fondly by the commoners but who is also quite unthinking at times, a bit neglectful and letting the nannies and governesses raise his children

His royal highness, crown prince Freemor is studious and quiet, and frequently works in the gardens. People are tentatively approving of him as crown prince, since he should be able to handle managing the kingdom’s graneries and other food resources well, but are worried about what will happen during foreign affairs, especially if they go to war.

His royal highness, second prince Xanatos, is... certainly aggressive and ambitious like is needed for foreign affairs, but there are too many rumors of underhandedness and selfishness for him to drum up support, especially by the public

Obi-Wan Kenobi, the third prince, grows up feeling the need to rise to his title. His brothers are already well-versed in their studies and have their own strengths physically. Further, Obi-Wan was told by a nanny when he was young that a true prince has a duty to help their citizens as much as they can and he’s never let that go

Obi-Wan, like all members of the royal family, also has the ability to use magic. And so he is sent off for a few years of his childhood to the academy run the druids/[insert magic pseudo-priest group here]. There he makes good friends with Quinlan Vos, a count’s son whose family is well known as sword mages

When Obi-Wan learns the basics of magic enough from the academy, he’s sent back to the royal family, where he proceeds to take a bre- proceeds to start studying even harder. (Obi-Wan has no chill)

Obi-Wan doesn’t take a break from studying combat, magic, politics, diplomacy, etc. (and becoming a pretty good dragon rider) until basically a few years later when Quinlan graduates from the academy’s full program and shows up to get Obi-Wan drunk. Obi-Wan’s servants quickly pull every favor they have in the palace to get Quinlan hired as Obi-Wan’s aide

Obi-Wan convinces Quinlan that he needs more experience in the real world, and that he needs to prove himself capable by his own abilities, not just the royal name. Quinlan agrees to help Obi get the experience so long as Quinlan comes along

Thus they begin their careers as errant knights

They gain a reputation for bad luck/chaos, and so eventually are only hired/requested when everyone’s sure some mission will go to hell anyways, in which case they’re very good at getting out of things in the best case scenario

During this time they also meet a certain disguised person from a certain royal family in a tavern and Obi-Wan of course flirts and tries to drink the man under the table

After a few years of this, with a few scattered months of being recalled home to the palace or sent to help protect a border from his father, Obi-Wan is called back to the palace again

It’s now that Obi-Wan finds out he has been promised to a neighboring kingdom’s crown prince to diffuse tensions, as there were two neighboring kingdoms seeming to be preparing to make a move. Obi-Wan getting married off to one prevents that kingdom from being able to attack and gets their support to help make the third kingdom back off

Obi-Wan is back for less than a week before he’s being sent off to his new life, which isn’t actually enough time to come to terms with his life getting completely uprooted and him apparently no longer being allowed to serve his kingdom how he planned to/was tying most of his identity to

Obi-Wan arrives at his new home the day before the wedding, and does not see his husband until part way through the wedding ceremony where they both take off their ceremonial veil/headpieces that covered their faces, revealing the man from the tavern

Crown prince Cody does not insist on having sex, although the are required to share a bed, and thus begins Obi-Wan’s somewhat awkward attempts to adjust to his new life

Obi-Wan attempts to be a perfect husband/married in royal, polite, keeping quiet, not causing trouble

He thinks that things are going well, and that he’ll be able to have a perfectly proper, tolerable life until he overhears his husband and a few of his brothers complaining about how distant and cold Obi-Wan apparently is, and how it seems like Obi-Wan’s birth kingdom didn’t really want the marriage

Obi-Wan runs away to the stable where his dragon is being kept, and stays with her for a while, cuddling up against he warm belly

He stays like that until he hears someone enter the stables and reflexively hides. Cody comes over to Obi-Wan’s dragon and takes care of her for a bit, checking her over and petting her and giving her a snack. Obi-Wan’s dragon clearly likes Cody (yes the dragon is Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, why do you ask?) and given the kind way Cody treats her, Obi-Wan can’t really blame her

Obi-Wan, after a night or two to settle himself down, decides to make a concerted effort to actually being a good husband by his new family’s standards

He invites Cody to tea, which is awkward until Obi-Wan switches the subject from personal matters to the latest political/governance problem. He shows up at the training arena more, until he runs into a few of the other princes and gets to spar with them a few times. He shows off a few magic tricks to the curious youngest prince Boba, when the boy finds him in the library

The princes seem to respond in kind, inviting Obi-Wan to things and being very friendly and affectionate, especially physically, which Obi-Wan’s not used to

The day Obi-Wan sasses something at Fives that leaves the man sputtering is Cody’s “oh no” moment, not that Obi-Wan realizes that the funny look Cody’s giving him is his husband trying to refrain from kissing him

Cody starts actually trying to court Obi-Wan after that, not that Obi-Wan does more but obliviously accept the attention, not even suspecting that Cody’s feeling more than a slight increase in respect and friendship for a few months

And then Obi-Wan gets word that King Qui-Gon Jinn has died

Obi-Wan is able to convince his new family to let him go back for the funeral with a well-guarded but small (and therefore fast) retinue, which includes Rex and Wolffe (? Probably? Another brother who is very competent and is not Cody, because crown prince)

The funeral is somber and formal and very much unlike Qui-Gon Jinn, and Freemor’s coronation is smooth and as simple as a royal coronation can be. Obi-Wan gives Freemor a thoughtful coronation gift and leaves. Rex and Wolffe have also come to understand what made Obi-Wan who he is much better and are very much planning on telling Cody and their brothers

A few months go by in which Obi-Wan finds himself falling for Cody more and more, and feeling guilty because he’s decided that Cody is only looking at him as a good friend now. Cody meanwhile is a bit frustrated by his new and improved seduction strategy both clearly working and not being enough to get Obi-Wan to make a move

Before Cody can act on a decision to just kiss Obi-Wan himself, Obi-Wan gets word that Freemor has died in an “accident”

This time, the kingdom is getting ready for harvest, so they can’t afford to let Obi-Wan go back. Obi-Wan sends a letter of condolences and sends an equally appropriate but far less thoughtful gift to Xanatos for his coronation

A year and a half later, after getting the kingdom through two winters very successfully, Obi-Wan finally confesses to Cody that he’s fallen in love with Cody, even though they had agreed to be political partners at the beginning. Cody (who had backed off on the seduction after Freemor’s death) responds enthusiastically

As they’re settling into their new relationship and dealing with much teasing, Quinlan Vos breaks into the palace (much to the chagrin of prince Fox, captain of the royal guard) and informs Obi-Wan that Xanatos has quickly proved to be a tyrant who can’t handle/care about running the country well enough to keep people from starving, putting most of the budget towards himself and the army

Obi-Wan… can’t exactly depose Xanatos. Even though he was third in line, he gave up those rights when he married the crown prince of another country. And the more distant relatives, while not as cruel as Xanatos, are in no way good candidates for the throne

The obvious solution, the Fetts decide, is to invade the country and take it over. Obi-Wan can’t really find a good argument since all the planning involves trying to keep civilians out of the line of fire

Usually, taking over a mountain region is very difficult, especially if you’re from a coastal trading kingdom. But they have Obi-Wan there to give them all the information they need

They spend the winter planning and begin to prepare, get everything ready after winter, and march in mid-spring

By the end of the summer, most of Xanatos’s army is defeated, or defected once they realized their royal prince/Ben the errant knight is trying to save the country with his new people

There’s some cool epic battle where Obi-Wan breaks the siege at the capital where Xanatos is holed up by flying him and Cody and a few others on dragons straight into the throne room/castle

Obi-Wan fights Xanatos as two sword mages, but Cody gets in the killing blow, despite being injured/knocked out earlier in the fight

Xanatos is given the proper funeral for a disgraced noble, and the people in the capital throw a party (technically it’s a belated coronation celebration for their new King Jango Fett)

Cody and Obi slip away from the festivities to watch from afar, and start talking about plans on how to actually rule the new territory and help it out after all the damage Xanatos did to it

The conversation ends with Obi-Wan expressing that he’s looking forward to going home (which is the first time Obi-Wan’s called the Fetts’ kingdom home) and Cody takes a moment to get over his shock before kissing Obi-Wan as the fireworks start going off overhead

Have I ever told y’all that I write really long outlines, btw?

(Also, side note: King Jango has a somewhat strained relationship with most of his sons. He raised them with very high expectations and little praise, and would not give them any responsibilities he didn’t think they were ready for. This led to, among other things, an almost co-dependent kind of closeness between the brothers. Jango, however, is more of a jerk than a bastard in this AU, so when his younger brother Alpha came back from abroad he was able to beat some sense into Jango, literally and figuratively. Boba is significantly younger than the rest of them and is being raised much more properly, but Jango is still in the process of mending his relationships with his other sons)

[arofili]

the line of elros ♚ royalty of númenor ♚ @oneringnet kings and queens event ♚ headcanon disclaimer

          Vardamir Nóliman was the eldest son of Elros Tar-Minyatur, and nominally the second King of Númenor. He was a great scholar and student of lore, devoted more to his studies than the guiding of the realm. Upon the death of his father, an already aged Vardamir inherited the scepter of the king as a technicality, but immediately passed the rulership down to his eldest son, preferring to spend the last years of his life in his scholarly pursuits rather than leading the kingdom.           The wife of Vardamir was Halyamórë, a religious woman with a deep connection to Nienna, learned under the tutelage of Elves from Aman who visited Númenor. She popularized the Noldorin tradition of veil-wearing among noblewomen, though her choice to veil was in honor of her Vala. She was a quiet, thoughtful woman who spoke rarely, but her words when voiced were heeded by all, for she possessed great wisdom and empathy.           Vardamir and Halyamórë had four children, the eldest of which was Amandil. In his youth he was often in the company of his uncles Atanalcar and Manwendil, hunting and exploring the land of Elenna. He led a cartography project that resulted in the first complete maps of the island. Though all mourned Tar-Minyatur’s death, the coronation of Tar-Amandil was joyous, for he was well-loved by the people.           The only daughter of Vardamir and Halyamórë was Vardilmë, who inherited the great stature of her elvish forebears. From her childhood she looked up to the night sky, and with the aid of her brother Amandil she mapped the movement of the stars with a particular focus on the erratic path of Gil-Estel.           Despite his name, Aulendil was not called to the forges as had the Noldorin princes of old. Instead he put his mind to designing great palaces and castles for his noble peers to dwell within whilst not in the capital of Armenelos. It is said that the last of his buildings still stood in the days of the Downfall.           As the youngest prince, Nolondil at first showed little care for responsibility and would often spurn his duties to spend time in the libraries. This pleased his father who, like him, was a scholar, and the two became very close. He was eager to learn from his mother’s elvish friends, but unlike her spoke often and passionately, and became known as a great orator, rhetorician, and philosopher.

[imagineabrighterworld]

Tenya Iida with a Princess S/O

You first meet him as a page

Tenya Iida was the second son of a family of nobles. There was no doubt that he would have a bright future ahead of him. You were the crown princess of the land, your brother instead opting to travel as an ambassador. This meant it was up to you to greet each of the noble families closest to the crown.

Bunching the fabric of your skirts in your hands, you wend your way down the spiralling staircase to the main foyer, your ladies in waiting trailing after you with varying levels of excitement. Today you got to meet the noble families of Florrum! It was scary, but it was also a little exciting. After your brother passed the crown to you, it was now your responsibility to make the people love you. A scary thought, but you were ready for it.

“Ooh this is so fun! I hear the Iidas’s and the Eijiro’s are coming today!” Your best friend and lady in waiting Ochako Uraraka squeals from behind you. “The Todoroki’s are already here too! Shoto was kinda cute don't you think?”

“She knows that silly.” Momo Yaoyorozu chides, pulling Uraraka slightly in order to fix a stray strand of hair out of place. While she didn't speak it, she used the excuse of managing Uraraka's hair to avoid speaking about the young white and red haired noble. "We just met them yesterday.”

You pause your trek down and pull the two girls to hide behind the banister as your father’s voice echoes in the room. Four voices accompanied his own, two of which you didn't recognize. Those must have been the Iida's. The third was a boy who had accompanied Shoto Todoroki, his name was Izuku. So either the fourth was Shoto, or it was the youngest Iida son.

Peeking around the corner, you scan the group of adults before looking at the younger boys following them. It was indeed Izuku Midoriya, and a boy who looked much like the eldest Iida.

His eyes flash to yours upon noticing the three of you crouched like spies. Immediately he rushes to his father’s side, grabbing his hand and chopping the air in your direction with vigor. “There are three strange girls over there!”

With an embarrassed queal, you duck further down and use the top layer of tulle fabric to cover your face. On the other hand, your ladies in waiting stand up to get a better look of the boy.

“So that's Tenya?” Ochako questions while nudging your arm. “He looks kinda serious.”

“ ‘Raka it is not polite to call strangers by their first names.” Yaoyorozu helps you up despite your tremblings. “Come on, my lady, let’s see him.”

He was overbearingly polite, but it was sweet

Standing in front of Tenya Iida you bulster up the courage to look him in the eye after being dragged by your friends to approach him. It wasn't queenly at all, and now you missed your elder brother more than ever. He was good with greeting people. This was still new to you.

The boy bows a perfect right angle, nearly flinging the glasses off of his face. You wouldn't be surprised if they weren't his first pair to go flying. “My apologies Princess! My name is Tenya Iida, from the prominent Iida family! It is an honor to meet you!” 

His father smiled crookedly behind you, looking at his son and back to you. He bows his head. “Princess, it is a pleasure to meet the future queen.”

Glancing back at your friends for strength you curtsy to the men in front of you, grateful your hair was blocking their view of your flushed cheeks. “Likewise. I hope you enjoy your stay here. My staff are ready to cater to your every need.” Was there something else you needed to do? Was there a piece of etiquette you were missing? There had to be, why would the young Iida still be bent at the knee if you did say the right words?

Your question is answered as the elder Iida taps his son on the shoulder. “That will be enough Tenya.”

The boy straightens immediately, his face pink with sheepishness. “Right!”

Looking him in the eyes, a smile creeps its way onto your face. 

He was cute. 

“Pardon me Tenya Iida-”

“Yes princess!”

“Would you like to join my friends and I for a game?”

He looks put off, but soon a look of excitement replaces it. 

“I would!”

Now friends, Tenya stayed at the castle to become a squire, and became somewhat of a guard

He was now a decent acquaintance, someone you enjoyed being around. Surprisingly he grew to like your little touches and was accustomed to how you would cling to him when you were afraid. It was endearing. But unfortunately it didn't last after your quirk finally presented itself.

Now at age 14, you couldn't see yourself without your friend by your side. Iida had fully integrated himself into your clique of ladies in waiting and squires. Your shyness seemed like it was finally out of your system, allowing you to bloom and show your potential as Crown Princess! 

Walking in the market place with Tenya by your side, you greet the people by name, having jotted down notes ages ago to help remember the faces of your kingdom. 

“Isn't this wonderful?” You question your friend as you examine a dressmakers shop, peering in through the window before the scent of honey bread pulls you away to the bakery. “Everyone is so lively and peaceful. After the contract with the Todoroki’s, everything has been tranquil.”

Tenya hums in agreement, his eyes glued on the dress you were staring at moments before. He moves along with you after you give his hand a small tug. 

The hand holding was a small rule of yours- of his. Ever since he lost track of you in a market place at the age of 8, he vowed to hold onto you whenever you two went out. He didn't want to risk losing the future queen. And his best friend. 

Suddenly you feel a warmth course through your body. In an instant you jerk your hand away from his and use it to. stable yourself by holding onto the table behind you. 

The baker screams. “Look at what you've done!”

“Princess!” Tenya reaches out to you before halting, looking at something on the ground.

In fear, you look at yourself, wondering if something had spilled onto your clothes, but there was nothing there. Next, you check your arms. It is from your arms that you realize what has happened.

Your quirk, after years of waiting, had finally shown itself. 

What used to be a simple wooden table with baskets of bread on top, was now solid gold. The metal had already begun creeping down to the ground beneath you and up your arms and legs.

You screech and back away, scared to touch anything else around you.

The townsfolk watch in amazement as the creeping gold stops in its tracks, slowly pooling back to the table where it stayed there. 

“Princess-” Tenya attempts to reach out for you only to be waved away. Your heart was beating out of your chest, gold hued tears spilling from your eyes. “Please- don't touch me- I don't want to hurt you.”

Slowly clenching his now empty hand into a fist, he nods. “Lets get you to the castle.” Removing his cloak, he drapes it over your shoulders and guides you back to the castle.

He doesn't touch you.

Your quirk was dubbed the golden touch, a blessing and a curse

Once news spread about your ability to turn normal objects into pure gold, you become the most highly sought royal of the nine kingdoms. This meant you would need even more guards than ever. It was not at all an ideal situation for you, as your parents now were questioning whether finding a suitor with a strong quirk would be better than simply hiring arms. 

You fought against it, not wanting your life to be dictated by a quirk you didn't want. For 14 years you were quirkless, for 14 years you were happy, why now did it choose now to ruin that happiness?

Learning that Tenya was a potential knight of your personal guard left you winded.. Or in your case, glowing

Now at the age of 18, often hiding away from the public and sometimes even your own friends, in fear that your emotions would stir up trouble, you are met with a letter that could potentially change the course of your life. Possibly.. if you could convince your parents. See, you were the Crown Princess, the future Queen. Queens weren't supposed to fawn over their knight.. but maybe you could be the exception?

Tugging open the heavy wooden doors of your room you walk across the lounge area to the staircase leading up the turret. It was from the turret where you sat at the balcony and watched the world from above. You didn't have much say in the matter on when you could leave the castle now that every thief and king knew of your quirk, but this balcony did offer some reprieve from your loneliness. 

“Don't get too close to the railing princess, we've already replaces it twice now.” A familiar groggy tone says from beneath you. You look into the tired eyes of the Captain of the Guard, Aizawa Shota. His scarf was partially bound around his fists as he pulled several of the knight trainees closer to him. “Turn it to gold again and you'll be signaling to every mercenary in the land which room you are in.”

With a sigh you step back and adjust your elbow length gloves to keep your skin from touching the metal bars. “I understand.” 

He mumbles under his breath before turning his attention back to the recruits in front of him. There was around twenty in total, some you recognized from your old travels in the town outside of the castle. But there was one that caught your attention and held on tight.

Tenya Iida. 

The same rush of warmth hits you as you run back into your room, holding the wall as you spiral downstairs. Unbeknownst to you, your golden touch seeped right through the gloves, turning the turret walls and steps pure gold. Only when you were in your room pacing back and forth with cheeks as red as a rose did you see the mess you had made. Nearly everything you came in contact with was gold, even your hands. 

Looking into a mirror, you whisper in horror as gold flecks spread up your neck like an expensive collar. “Why is this happening?”

Always the gentleman, Tenya came to your aid

“Princess?” A knock resonates through the room. “I saw you earlier- I don't mean to intrude but it would be dishonorable of me to leave a girl to cry alone!”

You pull the door open slightly, peering up at him with wet eyelashes and a pink nose. “You saw me cry?”

He halts his prepared speech, his mouth open as he tries to come up with the right words. 

“You.. You looked distressed. So I assumed..”

“You assumed I was going to cry.” You wipe your eyes, a teasing smile on your face. “That’s rather bold of you Sir Iida.”

“I-I-” He bows his head, “I apologize for my bluntness!”

He definitely had potential as a warrior, but you were also focused on something else

You had to admit, as you both grew older, you were more than twitterpated  He was charming and bluntly honest, unlike the suitors you were presented with that would leave you in tears of frustration. Did you need to lower your standards in order to make your family happy? You didn't think so. And beyond that, Tenya was a knight, one who came from a noble family. His pedigree wasn't important to you, but it would definitely help in getting your parents approval.

Observing the trainees from above, you take deep and slow breathes to keep your heart beat steady. With a few months of testing your quirk, you've realized it was emotional based. Rather than golden touch, it was more of a golden aura. It reacted with you. 

But it was difficult to keep your heart at ease when Tenya Iida came into the picture. 

Your heart skips a beat when the sound of his laughter raises to your turret. He was with Midoriya and Ochako, your lady in waiting most definitely there to keep her sights on the green haired knight. How you wished you could join them. Laughing with them. Talking like you had before. 

Tenya looks up at you from his spot below. He didn't have his glasses on, and his hair was slicked back to keep out of his eyes after his long training session with Aizawa. He smiles and waves. “Good evening Princess! How about joining us today? I can assure your safety.”

The tiles underneath you turn a rose gold as your heart stops. 

Could you join him?

Aizawa was the best wingman you could hope for

By some heavenly fortune, the Captain of the Guard saw your struggle and stepped in. Why he did it? He said nothing. Maybe it was because he could smell the desperation rolling of the two of you and grew tired of it.

“Just get down here Princess, I’m going to be here the whole time.” Aizawa motions you down. “If you don't join us he won't focus, and that will cost the head of whoever he spars with.” 

The blood flushes from the face of a blonde knight looking extremely uncomfortable at the prospect of sparring with the young Iida. 

“Ah- Okay, I'll be down soon.” You catch a glimpse of Uraraka giving you a thumbs up, missing the way Tenya watches you with a look of excitement mixed with dread. 

Of course he wanted you to join him and your other friends, but.. He hadn't been as close to you ever since your quirk presented, what if he stumbled or messed up while you were watching? Would you think less of him? Would you kick him off of your guard? Would you be ashamed of being his friend? Or were you no longer friends?!

His engines begin to smoke as he panics, his face blank though his mind was running a mile a minute.

Damn your shyness!

Taking the stairs two at a time, you scramble to your vanity to check your hair and add small touch-ups of makeup before launching yourself out of the room. You barely remember to inform the guards at your door of where you were headed before continuing your journey to the training grounds.

What did you do to deserve such a perfect vantage point to watch them? To have the opportunity to see your knights train? Or rather, to see Tenya, a boy who for the years you've known him, refused to train in front of you. 

And now not only was he inviting you to watch, but even the Captain of the guard agreed to it!

Finally at the front doors of the castle, you brush the tulle layers of your dress and do a once over. Everything was in place, and you had no spots of gold to rat out the thrumming heart in your chest. You looked fine!

Taking the left path to reach the training grounds, you can’t help but pick up the scent of smoke. It was odd, but you knew where the smell was coming from. It had to be Iida. He was the only one with a quirk that gave off the smell of smoking fruit. An odd combination, but you were used to it after all the times he short circuited as a child by bump in trees. 

What was he stressed out about?

Thats what you would ask when you found him, but instead, he found you.

Turns out he was just as shy as you 

Iida had spent a good five minutes pacing in a circle, pressing the fine grass into odd circles. He wasn't ready! He was definitely not ready for you to see him! You were his princess, someone he held in the highest regard, and someone he wanted to protect. Ever since he met you and discovered what kind of person you were, he vowed to become a knight so you could rely on him. You were infinitely precious to him, and so he worked hard every day so he could protect your smile. 

“Aizawa Sensei-” His engines were roaring to life, and he couldn't help but run. Where he was running to? He didn't know. But before his captain could order him back he was already running around the side of the castle to reach the front doors. He assumed you would get to the grounds by the side doors, but life had it out for him as he bumped into you and took a tumble to the ground.

Your golden aura was your second best wingman

When words failed to work, your quirk led the way. It was emotionally activated after all.

Iida’s eyes are as wide as dinner plates as he sees you laying underneath him, excuses were sticking to his tongue, unable to come out as he processed the vulgar situation. 

Which, wasn't as vulgar as he saw it. You were laying on the grass next to him, half underneath him as he used an arm to prop himself up in order to keep from crushing you. 

“Ah-!” He sits up swiftly, bowing until his head was pressed flat against the grassy floor. “My humblest apologies Princess! I didn't mean to hurt you!” 

You slowly sit up, plucking a blade of grass from your hair, seeing it had turned gold under your touch. In fact, gold was already spreading from your body to your clothes and to the earth below.

But this time, you didn't feel embarrassed. 

“Tenya?”

The young knight raises his head to look at you, his face tight with anxiety. 

You reach out your hand and cup his cheek, allowing a golden glow to cover you both. You smile and place a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “Its alright.”

[snowbellewells]

A Cottage by the Sea {Part Five}

Here we are at last! After months off (I’m truly sorry for that wait, by the way!) I’m back with the next to last addition to this @cssns20 story - only the final part/epilogue left to go.  I meant to have this up much earlier today, but I had several different things come up that made me later.  I hope you all who are still reading will enjoy... :)

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the sand near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the beach, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.  But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…

From the beginning on AO3, and here on Tumblr

Part Five

Calypso looked on with a mother’s concern and doting affection, treasuring the chance to see her son happy.  After so many years separated from her children, to have one of them here on her island where she could speak to him each day, brush back the wild dark hair from his face as she had done when he was just a little boy, no longer having to miss him, and knowing he would always be safe. It was nearly inducement enough to put a protective barrier up around her hidden home - an enchantment as she’d had before letting it down to allowing Killian’s princess passage, that would keep others out, and her son and his beloved in.

Yet, tempting as it was, the sea nymph knew better than most that she could do no such thing. Killian might find contentment here, now that Emma was by his side, but she could never force him to stay in such a manner. She would be parting him cruelly from the life he had worked hard to make for himself, and from the people who had taken him in - those who had become hs family when Davy had taken he and Liam from her arms. Having been forced to live with such loss, she would force no such thing on anyone else.

No, she would not make her beloved boy - long since become a man - remain here. She knew he would go, and even as she feared what might await him on his journey back to Misthaven; almost sensing that the threat from the deep was not yet over, she could only treasure this interlude she had been granted, to see Killian again, and to let him know he and his elder brother had always been loved and wanted.

~~***~~

Far below in the depths, fathoms beneath where Calypso watched anxiously, eyes drinking in every second of her son’s presence she could, and where Killian Jones and his royal lady love splashed and frolicked in the tide, another pair of eyes waited and watched, biding his time. True, he used supernatural means to do so - a dark orb of swirling greenish water housed in a gigantic open half shell platform brought the image to his underwater lair - but it was just as effective. Twice his younger son had escaped his clutches - once washed ashore as a youth before he could drag Killian down in his watery hold, and the second time foiled by the righteous nymph who fancied herself saving the whelp’s life. ‘Saving him? Bah!’ Davy’s glowering evil mind recanted. What could be more glorious than receiving his destiny? Sitting at his other side with Liam, ruling over the deep?

All these years, he’d been missing the set, the pair; he had his elder son - the wreck nearly a decade ago had seen to that - but he would not rest until both his sons were with him, his rule and legacy complete.

Of course, though he might hold his firstborn in thrall - unable to escape and return to the land of the living unless Davy released him, not after so long under the sea - that did not mean his eldest remained willingly. A dark glance over his shoulder gave him a view of Liam silently waiting and watching until orders were given him. Brooding, was more accurate, the immortal fiend thought angrily. Unlike the other souls lost and gathered into his unholy crew, Liam still looked much as he had when he had first been pulled below. He was not a mindless shade, hollowed and twisted beyond recognition as many of Davy’s captives for any length of time became. He still stood young, proud, and tall; broad-shouldered and handsome, just the sort of right hand a king of the deep would require, and Davy knew it well; it was just as he had envisioned long ago when he sent the typhoon that had claimed Liam’s young life. Unfortunately, the flaw in his plan was that it was meant to have brought him Killian as well, both his heirs to flank him and support him - his powerful living legacy. Instead his youngest had slipped through his clutches by chance or Fate - or interference from the dratted creature he had once charmed into loving him, who had borne him two strapping lads. To his way of thinking, Calypso had known full well just who he was and the darkness within him, but had then grown a conscience and set herself to oppose him at every turn.

“Liam!” he bellowed. Though he knew his eldest lingered just nearby, rekindled temper made his voice boom and reverberate in the small space, bouncing off the cavernous rock that encased his throne room. “It’s time my boy,” he pronounced, evil fire lighting eyes that had once been as blue and mesmeric as either of his sons’ but were now clouded and dark - foreboding whatever his mood. “Kilian will join us soon, as he should have long ago.”

The elder Jones brother, face steady and resolved, without flicker of emotion to betray his true thoughts came to stand at his father’s side dutifully when beckoned. He nodded at the boastful proclamation without comment, though if one looked closely - as Davy was too absorbed to do - they would have seen the strain in Liam’s every muscle, the tension radiating from his clenched jaw and tightly balled fist. His concern for his long-missed younger sibling would have been evident if one were watching, though he had learned long ago that luckily his power-mad sire noticed only what pleased him and related to his own concerns. He didn’t want Killian with him out of any genuine desire to reunite his family, but through some twisted ideal of dynastic completion.

Though he couldn’t hide all of his concern, Liam schooled his face into a mask of bland curiosity and obedience as he looked to Davy who growled, “You remember the job you are to do?” 

“Aye,” Liam affirmed simply with a curt nod, leaving out that he had every intention of doing the opposite when the moment came.

He left soon after, knowing his keeper - all the moniker his pitiless sire truly deserved - would never suspect him to do anything other than exactly as he decreed. ‘Thank the gods for small mercies on that score,’ Liam thought as he swam from the lair with unnaturally strong, tireless strokes. Such blind tunnel vision was all he really had to count on in his hopes to turn the tide.

~~***~~

Emma was genuinely surprised by Calypso’s warmth and affection as the gracious sea numph accepted her thanks for her aid and guidance in finding Ogygia before drifting lost at sea interminably. Of course this otherworldly being - uncannily graceful and stunning in all respects - was Killian’s mother! Not wonder he had always been able to charm any person he met with a mere smile or twinkle of his eyes! The part that staggered Emma was that the woman would embrace her and bless them as a couple rather than begrudge her pulling Killian away when she had just found him again. Princess trained in regal bearing and dignity she might be, but all the same, Emma could only tightly hug Killian’s mother in return, blubbering an apology about not being able to desert her parents and her people, which Calypso acknowledged with a calm gesture of understanding, and then boarded the ship, trying to quickly wipe away the stray tears that had escaped down her cheeks. She was glad to be able to say she had met his mother, and Killian deserved a moment alone to say his farewells - at least for the moment.

“Your princess is truly a lovely young woman,” Calypso told her son warmly, squeezing his hands in her own, hating to think that soon Killian would once again be out of her reach. “She is as enchanting and kind as her lady mother, Misthaven’s Queen, is reputed to be. I have no doubt that she will rule justly and well when the time comes.”

“Nor do I,” Killian agreed softly, his assurance, and the pride her felt for his beloved clear in word and tone. “But Mother, I…”

“And she loves you,” Calypso continued, cutting him off because she knew she must tell him all before her emotions choked her. “Above all else, she holds you closest to her heart, my son. Right where you deserve to be. It does a mother’s heart good to see it.”

Killian bowed his head, flushing to the tips of his ears, pointed like hers he realized now with pleasure to have a trait in common with this mother he hated to part from. “And I love her,” he replied without hesitation, “But you know that I love you as well… don’t you?” He pressed their joined hands to his chest, just over his heart. “That I do not wish to leave you?  Emma’s people look to her; they need her… and I have responsibilities as well.  Her parents, they took me in…”

“Never fear, Killian,” Calypso soothed her son easily. “I do know. And you will never fully leave me. You will always be my baby boy. You - and she - will always be welcomed here, should you ever wish to return.”

For a long, heavily charged moment mother and son leaned into a lingering embrace - full of comfort, which neither wished to let go. Foreheads touching, Killian tried to breath in her scent, to memorize the sound of her voice - all the things he had forgotten before. 

“I will always be here for you, Son,” she promised as he turned to stride across the sand and into the ship to sail home. “You know where to find me… whenever you need.”

Her son waved one last time before joining his princess at the bow, and soon their little ship was no more than a speck on the horizon, drifting further and further away.

~~***~~

They had been on the water some hours when a gentle bubbling and foaming disturbance of the surface appeared just ahead of their boat. Both Killian and Emma noted it, but were not terribly concerned at first. It was only when the waves around them began to roll and grow choppy, forcing Emma to grasp the sides tight-lipped and white-knuckled and Killian to eye the frothing, churning, and ever-expanding disturbance with worry he did not wish to voice. This was clearly no mere passing dolphin or larger tide as he had first hoped. He remembered too just how malevolently and suddenly the storm which wrecked his vessel and drowned the rest of his crew had blown up. He could not bear to see such a calamity befall Emma.

Glancing to his side, Killian’s heart swelled with admiration and affection for her as she braced herself and remained calm, neither crying nor panicking as many an untested sailor might have done. She was silent and steady - every bit as determined to hold her own as he was to see her home safely. However, he was about to caution her to wrap a length of rope around her oar-lock and then her waist securely, so that if she were tossed overboard he could haul her back in before she was lost, when suddenly their small craft bucked and lurched so strongly that she was thrown to the deck on hands and knees, and he nearly toppled down on her, despite his own more seasoned sea legs.

Before Killian could even reach to help her up, some unknown form broke the surface in the center of the spinning waters, and once it did, the worst of the pitching and rolling calmed. A head, then broad shoulders, emerged seemingly from the deep - as impossible as it should have seemed. However, they did just leave the island of his mother the sea nymph, so neither felt quite as supported by usual logic as they once had been. It was only as the figure glided toward them on the waves, as if they could simply float atop the water weightlessly without the effort of swimming, that Kilian recognized its build and look with a shock of disbelief. As the mysterious arrival raised unmistakably blue eyes to meet their awestruck gazes, the single word fell from his mouth on a harsh, ragged breath. “L- Liam?”

Emma’s head whirled to stare at him, then the aquatic visitor, and back, slack-jawed and goggle-eyed. She wanted to make sure she’d heard him correctly. Liam? The brother who had died when Killian was a child? Who had been lost to the sea at the same time it brought Killian to her? How was that possible? The thoughts cropped up in her mind one after another, but turning to see the intensity and confusion, the pain and the dawning joy on Killian’s face made her hold her tongue.

Tears started in the corners of her own eyes all the same, though he managed to speak again softly, “Brother? ...Is it really you? You- you drowned.” His face almost crumpled, and Emma wanted desperately to take his hand in comfort, but she held back, sensing that the brothers needed this moment - however it was happening. “I thought you were lost.”

Somberly, the shaggy head of hair lighter and curlier than Killian’s nodded to confirm his words. “Aye, it’s me, Little Brother.” He glided closer, out of the water up to his waist, until he was right next to their vessel, facing Killian as he reached out tentatively. “I was drowned… more or less. But I have not really died, not as one normally understands it.  Oh blast, am I buggering this up!”

Emma knew her face must match the look of perplexity covering her sailor’s. The words this man was uttering didn’t make sense. And yet, Killian would not - could not - leave him hanging, regardless of his confusion. He reached forward and met Liam in a tight, frantic hug of reunion after so many years apart, She heard a strangled sob leave the younger Jones, muffled against his elder brother’s shoulder, which was in turn shaking rather markedly with a soundless anguish and relief of its own.

When they finally parted, Liam’s hands were resting on Killian’s shoulders as he peered into his brother’s eyes intently. “I will explain all - as best I can anyway. I swear it, Killian. I am sorry I could not make myself known to you sooner.”

Killian nodded in acceptance of those words, looking almost dazed - as if afraid to even blink or speak for fear his beloved sibling would vanish from him again.

“But first,” the elder Jones continued, “I must tell you how I have reached you now - and warn you to be on your guard.” 

Tremors ran down Emma’s spine at the words themselves, and the tone in which they were spoken. This was not idle chatter, but a true threat, and she could only imagine who, or what, he might warn was coming their way.

Killian gave his older brother a curt nod of understanding, urging Liam on. It was clear how they would have worked impeccably well together - an unstoppable team on any ship - if things had been different, if they had been allowed to sail into adulthood side-by-side. They do not argue or waste time, but instead each obviously trusted the other at their word, without a second’s hesitation, and moved forward without fail toward what must be done - not allowing room for doubt nor fear.

Liam cleared his throat, eyes lowered to avoid quite holding contact with either of their faces when he continued, voice gravel-rough and low. “Of course you know of Davy Jones and his infernal locker…” he began..

Again, Killian nodded in confirmation, “Aye, naturally.”

“What most do not know - what I myself could not have known all those years ago, still just a lad, and would never have believed, is that Davy Jones and the legend surrounding him - his locker, his cursed crew, the Flying Dutchman - all of it is true.”

Neither Killian nor Emma spoke to interrupt him, though it was a near thing, both of them staring frozen and gobsmacked, trying to figure out how they must have misunderstood Liam’s words. Finally, Killian gathered his wits enough to sputter incredulously, “You mean to say that you’ve been held prisoner - a part of that villain’s crew all this time? How - how is that possible?”

Liam shook his head resignedly, answering with little more than a shrug and a low voice. “I do not begin to know the whys and wherefores, Little Brother. Until seeing you here before me, I had genuinely lost all sense of time passing, and much memory of who I once was and what I felt long ago - a sort of suspended animation, if you will.”

Emma had remained quiet throughout their exchange - partially stunned into speechlessness and partially from a desire to allow Killian the time and space to be reunited with the sibling he had mourned as long as she had known him. Yet, with this revelation, she found her curiosity overruling her previous restraint. “What allowed you to come to us now then?” she questioned, tilting her head as she attempted to study his face - familiar, but not as open to her as Killian’s had ever been. She didn’t mean to be mistrustful, but all of this tale was strange - straining belief, in fact - and his arrival to warn them at just the opportune moment seemed almost too much a coincidence.

“A fair question indeed, your Highness,” Liam answered respectfully, with a slight dip of his chin in differential bow. For a moment, his gaze slid back over to Killian with such proud approbation, as if congratulating him in finding such a sharp lass and valuing that about her, that Emma felt herself flush with pleasure.

He granted her a small but transformative smile; in truth, the way it lightened his whole aspect made him seem an entirely different person. Not only that, but the familial similarities between he and the brother she had grown up beside became all the more evident when his expression drew her in just as Killian so easily did. “In answer to your question - as fair warning, as much as it is in my power to offer you - Davy sent me to the surface anyway. He made me have you in my sights, ready to do his bidding at the moment he chooses to strike. I did not know whether I would be able to thwart his intent and show myself or speak to you ahead of when he wished, but it seems I can, and it was worth any effort for me to at least try. I believe he knows my loyalty is not fully his, in whatever degree I am free of his influence, and so he has not told me all. Have no doubt he will attack when you are weakest though, when the moment is most opportune for his victory. Please, both of you, be wary and ready. I will help you in any way I can, but I can never be fully assured how much of my will might be my own.”

Kililan’s brow furrowed in anger and disgust, his concern for the sibling he loved clear as he asked disbelievingly, “He controls you?”

Liam bobbed his head in grudging confirmation, but he wanted them to know as well as possible just what they were up against. “To a large degree, yes. If he wills it, that seems often to be the case, at any rate. Thankfully, he has numerous minions, most much more eager to serve as they are grateful to be - at least in some measure - alive. He is often distracted and not actively ordering me to do anything, and as such, I am often able to do as I will. Not that I have much to see or do here trapped within the ocean. It would have been better for me to have perished outright, but he did not allow that - not when he sent that storm to gather us both to his side.”

The elder Jones shook his head in frustration, gritting his teeth before concluding ominously, “I fear he will never rest until he has captured your soul as well, Brother… And I do not know how much I will be able to aid you or resist his orders when he directly states otherwise.”

Before he could divert his gaze, obviously ashamed that he could be used as a pawn, made to hurt those he most wished to protect, Killian brought his hand quickly to grasp his brother’s forearm, bringing Liam’s stormy gaze up to look on his own, clasping his long lost hero’s hand in a firm, brotherly grip. Killian vowed solemnly. “Understood. We will be on our guard. But do not think for a moment we will hold you to blame for something beyond your control, either.”

Emma stepped closer, looking into the slightly greyer, more muted blue of the brother she had just met’s eyes as well. “Take care of yourself too. See that you weather the storm as well so we can meet again. And thank you… for the warning.”

The shaggy head, which had once been carefully close-cropped and tended light brown curls nodded, seeming to know better - just as his younger brother always had - than to argue with a princess so prepossessed and determined. There was a sheen of unshed tears filming those wise, weary eyes as he hesitated every second he felt able, but in the end he dared not linger further, loath to draw Davy Jones’ attention to the princess and lieutenant if they could by pass his waters undetected.

Unfortunately, the entire sea was the evil being’s domain - and all those upon it a part of his purview. All three of them knew - and Liam from a sickening knowledge of seeing and living the aftermath of when struggle against Davy for survival ultimately failed - it was a battle that would take all they had, with the outcome Emma spoke of anything but assured.  Still, the fact that they knew it was coming, could steel themselves and prepare for the worst, somehow steadied them. Neither Killian nor Emma had ever been people who had backed down from a fight - and they were calling on every bit of that resolve in the moment.

Though Liam was more than reluctant to leave his brother and Killian’s beloved - a princess! And a woman he already found himself feelings  brotherly affection for - he knew he must do so soon. The last thing he wanted was to destroy their one advantage and let Davy know they were aware of his plot. Nor did he wish to lead his predatory sire right to Killian and Emma; let them get as close to their home and safety as they could before the nefarious, supernatural captain caught them up.

“Aye,” he finally managed to choke out harshly. “May we do so.” One more quick bow of his head, reverence in the gesture before he offered a warm, loving smile and then sunk so smoothly beneath the surface of the water that it barely rippled, unlike when he had appeared. Almost as though he had never been there at all; leaving Killian and Emma to turn to each other, vowing to fight through together, to find Liam again, their eyes promised it even if no words were spoken, whatever they were about to face. 

~~***~~

Sure enough, they might have hoped otherwise, Killian and Emma felt Davy Jones’ presence approaching before they reached Misthaven’s shores. The otherworldly menace’s arrival was heralded as much by the change in the wind and the waters around them as the chill of foreboding that made the hair at their napes stand on end. Though he had not yet shown his cursed visage, the way what had simply been a pleasant breeze now picked up to whip at the sails, their hair and clothes, and to howl in their ears, and the way what had been a light blue sky turned a sickening chartreuse full of scudding grey clouds ever-darkening with ominous intent.

For an extended moment, Kilian’s eyes sought Emma’s across the small hull of their rolling vessel, being tossed more and more as the waves crested higher. “If we capsize, Emma,” he spoke slowly, firmly, as if to imprint his words on her memory if he were not still there at her side. “Swim for land in this same direction,” he indicated the way they had been traveling, over her shoulder. “We nearly reached the harbor. A strong swimmer - which you are, Love - might yet make it on their own strength.”

She wanted to ignore his words, to shake her head in wild denial that she might need knowledge he wouldn’t be there to provide. She had no intention of losing him again. And yet, the confrontation they had hoped to avoid was surely coming any minute; they would not outrun the master of those lost to the Deep.  The little vessel that had taken her so far, and had nearly borne them home again was no longer managing any progress forward, merely struggling to remain afloat as it rode wildly up and down on the ever-rising swells.

And then, at long last, with a loud, whooshing roar, it was as if the ocean itself parted, a huge, dark shape, which solidified into the monstrous hulk of a ship surged up from the depths of the open chasm. As it leapt to the surface, righting itself to mount a wall of water, the split in the waves fell closed once more, leaving the blackened, ruinous black ghost of the Flying Dutchman towering before them not more than fifteen feet away - like a shark poised to swallow smaller fish too stunned or too late to flee.

No sooner had Emma been able to swallow hard in a throat suddenly parched with apprehension, her fingers clenched in the material of Killian’s sleeve, above all else determined she wouldn’t let him be taken from her again, when everything around them went horribly, unnaturally still. The waves, the wind, all their surroundings silently seeming to hold their breath before all chaos broke loose. For one last moment, she and her lieutenant fixed their eyes on each other; wordlessly swearing to see each other on the other side, whether or not it was within their power to follow through on such a promise.  Then he turned to face his sire - if one could truly be made to believe that the monstrous captain towering over them at the prow of the other ship could have had any connection to the true and honorable man Killian had become. Intending to remain at his back, to do whatever she could to help him fight and keep them afloat, Emma straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine as they waited and watched.

Sound and fury returned to the world around them as the accursed captain reached the very helm of his ship, bringing him fully into view as his low, malevolent chuckle at their show of resolve seemed to set the waves crashing and churning once more. “Oh ho, Killian, you’ve brought your intended to our long-awaited reunion, have you? Not particularly well-advised, but she is a pretty wench. I supposed I can see why you’d be loath to leave her behind.”

Killian’s frown deepend, the muscle in his jaw working as he bit down on his anger. Those eyes that she usually likened to the brilliance of a summer sky or the blue of his beloved ocean were instead lit with the pale fire of the hottest of flames at Davy’s callous words. “Hardly,” he clipped in a low growl. “I had no intention of meeting you at all. And I’ll not have you getting anywhere near Emma.”

“Is that so?” Davy snarled, his own temper seeming to erupt at his offspring’s defiance. “We’ll just see about that!”

The waves their little boat floated upon suddenly seemed propelled forward, rising on a towering crest of water as if drawn to Davy’s hand. Skilled a sailor as Killian was, there was no steering them anywhere else when the very elements were turned against them. The air seemed to quiver just as Emma found herself doing, in spite of her best efforts as they came face-to-face with the accursed being. The boards of the vessel beneath their feet groaned and creaked as the frothing sea bearing it seemed ready to dash it to kindling. The air whistled and howled, whipping her hair against her face until she was nearly blinded. And yet, she saw the horrifying shade who faced them, the dark cloud of obsession clouding eyes which might once have been clear and striking as the sons he claimed as his own. He stood taller than the average man, seeming even larger with the wild hair and wide-brimmed, ostentatiously old-fashioned hat atop his head. All his dress was from a more ornate and bygone age, and yet looked gone to ruin rather than impressive, almost mildewed, or perhaps it was a growth of some sort of moss or coral upon his apparel after so long within the sea. Beyond the visible appearance however, the aura of evil power practically radiated from his being, and Emma felt herself draw back before even realizing she had done so.

Pleased with the nightmare impression he never failed to make, Davy Jones chortled in maniacal glee. “Oh yes, I see you there, Princess. Try not to fret overmuch. No matter how brave, they always cower before me in the end.”

She wanted to contradict his words, to call back that Killian wasn’t afraid and that she believed in him, but Emma found her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, speechless and unable to react other than to stare, frozen, until with one last murderous crow, Davy cackled, “You’re both in my clutches, and no hope to escape. Look your last on the world above.”

Then they were falling, plummeting back to the surface with such speed and force that the boat rolled and cracked in two when it hit the water again. Swept underwater and swirled around dizzyingly, Emma fought to retain any sense of which way was up and to break free of the whirlpool ravenously threatening to suck her further down.

Her lungs burned; her rational mind knowing she would have to draw breath soon - and that it would be nothing but saltwater and spell the beginning of the end. She paddled madly, flailing for some sort of light, when suddenly, a solid arm caught her around the middle and pulled her back toward the air at last.

Certainly she had expected for Killian to have somehow reached her, though she couldn’t begin to account for the strength and speed with which she was fished from the drink. However, upon gulping her first sweet breath of air and catching a glimpse of her savior, she found not Killian, but his brother keeping her afloat. Coughing up the water she had somehow swallowed and attempting to speak her thanks, the words died on her tongue at the seeming blank and unknowing countenance Liam bore, nothing like the warmth with which he had looked at her mere hours ago.

“Liam?” she attempted to gain his recognition, even as an awful feeling stole her breath yet again. “What’s wrong? It’s Emma… don’t you remember me?”

Still he made no response, solidifying the frightened certainty that he was under Davy’s control once more and no longer acting of his own volition. Wriggling and kicking to try to break free, Emma found quickly that her efforts were useless. There was no escaping the iron grip he had on her.

Yet, even as her own panic rose to as crescendo, Emma found herself needing to find Killian, to know if he were better or worse off - and already praying that he had not somehow been swallowed by the vicious waves his sire had conjured to claim them. As her eyes flew across the distance, they came to rest on both a thrilling and blood-curdling scene. Her love stood feet planted on the overturned shell of their boat, splintered oar in hand as the only weapon available to him, and waiting as Davy drew near, magically skimming across the tops of the waves, ready to face him once again and for all.

She struggled anew against Liam’s iron hold, but he barely moved; her efforts to free herself having so little effect they might as well not have happened at all. He didn’t speak, though his expression was tormented, torn as if he were indeed in conflict between what he wished to do himself and the command that decreed his actions otherwise. Yet that did not stop Emma’s trying to reason with him, trying to break through. “Liam, please. You know me. I’m on your side, remember?” she pleaded, even as she continued to try to escape his hold. “We want the same thing. Let me go and we’ll help Killian, alright? Look, he needs us.” She flung her arm out desperately, hoping to make him see the real place they should be focused.

Liam’s gaze did move to his younger sibling for a moment, and Emma’s heartbeat quickened at the longing she saw in the elder brother’s countenance; the aching need to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and fight together for something good and true once more. But then he jerked his gaze from the scene of impending conflict once more, muttering to himself as if to drive home a point he would not have himself forget. “Not yet, not yet,” his lips were moving as he repeated it almost like a mantra. “Must wait for the opportune moment…”

Puzzled, Emma worried that she had heard him say that very phrase before, when cautioning them that Davy would choose the opportune moment to strike. All she could take from that was the fact that he woudln’t release her and hadn’t yet gone to his brother’s aid was that his father did have him under his command. Yet, Liam also looked far from peacefully mindless; he might be under duress, but he was aware and hating every second of it. Even as she was in danger from him, even as every fiber of her being clawed to get to Killian’s side and help him any way she could, her heart still broke for Liam.

“You can beat this, Liam,” she murmured fervently, trying to catch his gaze and ceasing in her struggles to rest her hand over his much larger one in solidarity. “You’ve fought him this long, hang in there a little longer.”

Something sparked in his gaze at her words, something Emma didn’t fully understand - and yet, it gave her hope. It was conscious and alive, and truly him, not Davy holding his mind captive. Had she gotten through? Had he already broken free? Then what was he waiting for?

Both of their attention snapped back to the battle sides drawn before them once more at the taunting voice of Davy Jones. “Come now, boy. You had to know you would lose to me. A mere mortal - and with something so precious to lose. Join me, part of the ship and crew that sails forever, scourge of the sea. You’ll have power, your birthright, your brother with you again. Plus, as you can see, Liam holds my ace in the hole. We’ll see your princess safely to shore if you join us. Refuse and fight, and she becomes one of us as well.”

Even at a distance, Emma could see the rage in Killian’s eyes at the demon’s words - the threat to himself already known, but unwilling to stand for the threat to her. He glanced their way only briefly, but it was enough for Emma to see Liam give the tiniest jerk of his head to the side, an unspoken denial to whatever Killian had asked with his look. “Opportune moment,” she heard him vow in a whisper once more as he held his younger brother’s stare for a resolute second longer.

Then Killian whipped back to face their sire once more with a defiant glare and what could only be called a battle cry. “Never!” he snarled, fire in his eye and retribution in his bearing. Though Emma could do nothing but watch, and though the dire situation seemed completely unchanged, she was galvanized by her love’s certainty, believing that he would prevail. Whatever had passed between he and his brother, it had been the final push he had needed.

With a roar of vengeance, the taker of imperiled souls surged forward, Emma’s gasp swallowed by the howling, churning elements at his command swelling along with his ire. As certain as she had been mere moments ago that Killian could stand firm, she was terrified that she was about to see him consumed, and the rest of them with him. Still, just as Davy’s huge bulk and accompanying wave towered over her sailor, ready to cascade over his head and bury him in the rolling depths, Killian released another feral howl and charged forward himself, meeting his villainous father head on. Boldly welding the broken spar of the boat before him, he stabbed with a force Davy could not have reckoned on, sinking the jagged tip of the wooden stake into the monster’s chest.

For a horrible beat of time, their foe appeared unfazed, and then it was as if he began to deflate, then shrink - as if no one had managed to strike such a blow before, and his defenses were not actually equal to the task. Lurching with outstretched hand to grasp either Killian or his weapon in a final strike, there was suddenly an explosion so loud it seemedd to shake the very atmosphere. A blinding flash of light radiated from where man and monster grappled to the death, then darkness fell - equally blinding - and Emma was suddenly adrift. No longer held, unable to place anything in the black night that had suddenly engulfed her, she paddled to stay afloat, and seemingly alone. Lost and completely at sea.

Bobbing aimlessly on the surface, it was hard to tell how much time had gone by, or how far she had been carried by the waves. The huge crests and white caps had receded, leaving it a gentle rise and fall that Emma was in no danger from, yet she could not feel that all was well until she understood what had happened, where she was - and where Killian was as well. Trying she might to strain and peer through the darkness however, she couldn’t make out any recognizable landmarks; nothing but the waves surrounding her and buoying her up. It was as if she had gone from the center of battle to being the only person left on Earth or sea, the silence and dark felt so immense.

Eventually, the repetitive motion of the gently rolling swells soothed her into a doze, her eyelids fluttering closed. Despite her concern for her beloved lieutenant and her occasional unconscious paddle to stay upright, after all she had been through, Emma succumbed to a restless sleep.

~~***~~

Her eyes didn’t open again until her feet drug across rough stones, having finally been carried into the shallows and touching the rough bottom not yet become sand. She jerked back into awareness with a gasp; alarmed and not at all sure where she was. Blessedly, when she looked around herself, Emma could see once more - the endless horizon stretched out before her streaked with peaches, yellows, and pinks as hte sun rose over the ocean. Even more relieving, at her back she could see rocky, deserted coastline. Devoid of people or buildings, but land all the same.

She struck out for the shore, gladly swimming toward the land that was nearer than she could have guessed. Was this Misthaven yet? Had she been carried elsewhere as she drifted and slept? There was no way to know, and she found she didn’t even care in comparison to simply getting out safely. If only she knew where Killian was…  

She had barely scrabbled out upon the rough, sandy beach, feeling water-logged and half alive and at a lost for what to do, when she heard her name called over the water. “Swan!” the moniker that only he had ever used, an affectionate shorthand between the two of them, hit her ears with the welcome impact of beautiful music.

Turning, her mouth fell open in awe at the sight of him rising out of the water with otherworldly grace - as if right in his element (which, in truth, he must be). There was an ethereal glow about him, gleaming from his dark hair and the tips of his rather pointed ears, outlining his strong arms and slender waist as he emerged from the deep, sent back to her on the tide once more. “Emma” he repeated, voice low and ragged with emotion though relief and joy showed across his face. “We made it, Love. He’s gone and we’re still here!”

Unable to hold back any longer, as impossible as it was to believe, when he opened his glowing arms in welcome, standing in the ankle deep water, she felt tears of joy spilling over as she cried out his name on a sob and ran to meet him. 

Feet splashing through the shallows, the slap of her skin against the near-velvet texture of the wet sand as the water splashed up with each steps, Emma was laughing and crying all at once as she gained speed. The exhaustion and defeat that had dogged her mere moemtns before completely gone at the sight of his smile. She hit his arms in a flat out run, bowling them both over and into the water again, witha  yelp of surprise from Killian, a laughing tangle of limbs.

She was kissing across his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, anxious to press her lips to every bit of his skin, having feared that he had finally disappeared where she couldn’t follow. Pulling back fro only a second as he tangled his fingers in her wet hair and cradled the back of her head in his palm, she tried ot splutter out enough words to make sense. “H- how is this possible? How did you - How are you here?”

Killian chuckled, a low, comforting rumble that vibrated from his chest to her palm where it rested over his heart. He licked those gorgeous lips, parting them to answer her, and suddenly she couldn’t stand not to be kissing them for even a moment longer. The explanation could wait.

Surging forward, she captured that luscious mouth with her own, just barely murmuring, “Never mind… it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Killian might have been taken aback by her enthusiasm at frist, but he recovered admirably. Pushing back, his tongue entered the fray in a delicious bid for control of the kiss, which she ceded, humming in pleasant abandon as he rolled her to her back in the sand and surf, breaking lightly and pleasantly against their bodies. Hovering over her, his eyes sparkled in enchanting glee, and he had the audacity to lick his lips as though she were a delicacy laid out before him. “Emma, my love,” he breathed hoarsely, lowering his ips to graze along her collarbone, licking and nipping in a way that made her squirm with blissful anticipation. “We’ve made it home.”

“Mmm,” she tried to answer, but the wordless sound was all the confirmation she could muster with her body humming pleasantly from his attentions.

“We should go to your parents, Love,” Killian suggested, though half heartedly at best. “Let them know we’re alive.”

She nodded, but made no move to go anywhere, merely sinking her fingers into the muscles of his forearms, gasping and arching toward him in supplication as his nose pushed aside her wet and slightly askew bodice and that wicked mouth latched onto the flesh it had been covering. 

“Later,” she finally managed breathily, having all she could do to hold on for dear life to him. “We have all the time in the world.”

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @drowned-dreamer @shireness-says @thisonesatellite @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling​ @xsajx​

[rouiyan]

𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the first volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: prince jeno is willing to trade his heart and soul for the throne. but lee jeno is also willing to trade his heart and soul for you.

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 7.0k ✧ disclaimers : brief descriptions of nudity (nothing sexual), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), malintent

✧ author’s note — i have a bad case of 'lee jeno will forever sit atop my bias list, unmoved,' but i guess this is just my way of coping. happy reading, loves.

back to series masterpost: till death do us part.

prince jeno will never be king. he will never sit atop the throne and his plates will always be silver, not gold. he shall be addressed with 'prince' prior to his name, always and perpetually, and until he's wrinkly, gray and even through the eons after he passes, he will only ever be 'prince jeno.' and this is only because of his stoic-faced brother, crown prince doyoung, who is always a step out of reach. born a little more studious, a little more driven, a little more empathetic, and born a little earlier. jeno knows this, his parents know this, even the kingdom is fully aware, that jeno is an example of what a future king should look like, but also that doyoung is the epitome. 

but if there's one thing that jeno excels at, in greater lengths than his brother, it'd be his sense of independence. at the ripe age of one, jeno was already on his own two feet, quick and adept. at three, he could eat solid foods and put on his clothes without aid. at six, he'd gone out of his parent's willingness to learn professional swordsmanship. and at ten, he'd sworn, one sudden night in a fit of angry tears, that he would never marry. he was ten, just touching on double digits, yet he'd never felt such fervent ardor for any one thing. lee jeno was convinced, by none but himself, that he was better off alone, in marriage, in friendships, in brotherhood, in family. he needn't no one but himself for he knew more than anyone, his own capabilities. but he also knew that no matter how ardent he was in his endeavors, he would never be king, at least, not of the southern kingdom.

as he draws himself straight, emerging from the black marbled carriage drawn by horses of black mane, he sets his sights on the scene that unfolds before him. the northern castle is fortified in pristine white; white footbridges, posterns, battlements, towers and pinnacles, and all that meets the eye upon first glance. in the moment, the sunlight is cascading down between passing clouds, reflecting across the rounds of the turrets like thick coils of luminescence. the castle itself, though, serves as a halo of radiance that rests above a breathing orchard which is then, set behind a pathed meadow of gently mowed lawns. there's a noticeable wind that courses through the splaying fields, gurgling the water of the moat he'd just passed and ruffling the wildflowers. jeno's spirits lift as clusters of petals lift from their stems, undulating with the chorus of the wind and wafting a delicate scent.

the prince is accompanied, on either side, by his guards dressed in black and gold accents, he himself, wearing an ensemble of a similar but more explored palette. he's guided by a man of the recipient kingdom, dressed contrastingly in white, that strides a few paces ahead of the arriving group through the orchard of dew-laden trees, their boughs offering bundles of green apples low enough to be grasped by the hand.

it's easy for jeno to momentarily forget the reason he is here in the first place.

he stands, that night, under a flurry of blinding crystal chandeliers and in line with others, kindred to his age and stature, first as a guest and foremost as a suitor. a man enters from the archway on the left, stout but tall in posture, and he announces, "arrival of crown princess y/n of the northern kingdom, followed by the king and the queen of the northern kingdom."

jeno fails to notice how his own breath hitches, but notices the man next to him stir at the sight of you. for good reason, he thinks. your dress is nothing short of seraphic, a layered piece of cream silk upon silk, built up into a fitted bodice and sweetheart neckline. a pearled bodkin swirls back the upper half of your hair, allowing the supple skin of your face to spangle in the light. it's from this he understands that the rumors of your beauty are not half moonshine. he disregards the soft features of your face and focuses on the way you curtsy, gentle but profound, for each member of the line, a bow sent in return for each adjacent man. jeno is careful in his observations but he cannot seem to find a fault in your movements, each tailored to the exact second. your eyes, your attention, your pleasant countenance, spends no more time on himself than the others. this is one of the two things he notes during the feast, the second being your father, the king, taking a blatant liking to whom he knows to be the crown prince of the western kingdom, na jaemin.

an alliance as solid as marriage between the western and northern kingdoms would perhaps be the turnover of the century, a threat to be reckoned with. the aqueducts of the western kingdom, the pure water it provides for the region and its people, paired with the flourishing arts and wealthy merchants of the northern kingdom would yield tremendous power over the agriculture of the eastern and the coal mines of the southern. jeno is sharp in calculations, his resolve shifting and with this, the arranged trip becomes a lot clearer in purpose. he stares ahead, knowing that he has little charm to offer to the miss, but imagining himself on the throne of the northern kingdom for a change. albeit, next to you, but he'll find it in him to deal with that in the long run and for the time being, divert his attention to the young highness.

dinner clears out and the party moves into the nearest drawing room in the west wing of the palace. the princess and her parents are escorted earliest and jeno utilizes the opportunity to make his objective clear with whom he sees as his primary source of competition, the prince of the western kingdom. prince jaemin has a smile gracing his face at all times, a habit that jeno has come to despise the more time he spends looking at. "how do you fair with the princess' impression, mind i ask?" jeno is taken off guard when the boy speaks first, now standing beside him, both gazes held up front instead of at each other. he rights his expression before replying curtly, "a sight to behold, no doubt, but i find her to provide amusing company withal."

"and is that all you see her for? an eyeful and merriment?" jaemin's tone gives way to how he's condescendingly sneering at the prince, in distaste by means of long forgotten familiarity.

jeno doesn't bother to answer for it is now within his knowledge, and the other's, that his intentions are unearthed. jaemin continues, his voice light but carrying heavy weight, "i'd hope that she chooses wisely. the princess deserves her throne." 

they are ushered from the vicinities of the dining parlor into the drawing room. the space is lit with candles that glint and flit across the pale green plaster, lined with golden leaf molding and wainscotting. the walls encasing the room are at least a bountiful twenty feet high, the echoes of thirty or so people colliding off the ceilings and upon the polished floor. nothing remarkable can be said besides the fact that the churnings in the pits jeno's stomach become painfully acute with each step you take towards him, and that he, in turn, can't help but take further steps back.

jeno returns to his assigned quarters without a word spoken to or from you. he does not feel belittled by the others, in fact, he knows his royal blood gives him a hefty advantage over the sons of advisors, distant cousins, older merchants, and others of far off importance. he retires into the crisp white sheets after he blows out the already billowing candle by the bedside. prince jeno only dreams of the throne, the only visions he has ever come to see behind the veil of his eyelids, but it's tonight that he's met with you. smile wide in response to something he's said, an act of jest maybe. he smiles along and towel dries your hair lovingly, brushes through it with tender fingers, lays you upon the bed in fluid motions. it's the morning after that he wakes up with no recollection. 

the following day is open to any and every pastime the palace has to offer, the only program being the ball in the evening, a gathering of formal introductions by footwork and intense stares. jeno doubts the princess will have enough stamina to follow through with thirty or so consecutive dances, each with different men, but he's adamant to be one of the few. he's ambling directionless in the castle, unaware of which halls leads to what and in the forefront of his mind, he's looking for you, as he is sure many others are as well. he stumbles upon a dusty balcony, evidently unused, by the landing of the fourth level that opens up to an expanse of flowers, rows and rows of varying genera, each blooming in full vigor. it's here that he finds you, frolicking among the reposeful blossoms, mirrors of your countenance that rise to your waist. from what he can see, you're walking alongside the small dirt paths with a brown haired boy of sun kissed skin. hand in hand you walk, and he can almost see the pleasant smile the boy adorns and the vibrancy you radiate. 

jeno learns from a maid with a adoring smile, that the boy is prince donghyuck of the eastern kingdom, the youngest son of four and therefore the most unfit match for a crown princess, a spiteful thought that jeno can't help but think. he also learns that he is the one boy, the one person, you've been the closest with since birth and that, out of anger and disapproval, your mother had invited the suitors for the purpose of serving you a more worthy husband and future king. the maid now sports a frightful expression, knowing that she had crossed her bounds by oversharing. jeno is glad though, and reassures her that the secret is safe with him.

he dresses accordingly for the ball, and while many of the fellow suitors donned garments of white to match your family's signature, jeno cannot find a single piece of his that holds the same hue. the color black oozes from the lapels of his pressed suit jacket, from the tie and shirt underneath. the color is second nature to him, one of his own family, and he gives it no thought.

perhaps it's the color, though, that catches your eye that night because you prance over to him not a half hour after the ball commences. kind eyes that feel so welcome on his skin, and though the churns and froths have resurfaced in his gut, he offers his hand in the first and last dance of the night. you say yes to both but the last is when he starts to chip off the guise of royalty to reveal the ramblings of a young girl.

"i'm not in love with him, most certainly not, but i feel strongly that if i were ever granted a say in marriage, it would not be of anyone in this room, no, i would marry my dearest companion." jeno fails to admit that the smooth vibrations of your voice are enough to set fire to his resolve, the purpose behind your hand on his shoulder and his around your waist. 

he draws you in, "and why not marry for love?" though he's sure he doesn't mean to.

"and why not should my love for a close confidante count? is it not love all the same?" you pull from him and jeno follows in step of the music to twirl you back into his embrace, just the way a prince should.

"i believe the love you speak is of the head," jeno counters. the ball is in his court, but he pays it no attention, sincere in obtaining an answer, "i am asking why you should not marry for love of the heart?"

"of the heart," you repeat to yourself, an utterance that jeno finds so endearing but cannot bring himself to immerse in. "i've yet to encounter such an emotion. may i ask, has the prince himself ever held such affection towards another?"

he chuckles, "i only know of once where another held my gaze captive. i know little of her, yet i can speak quite arduously on her behalf."

"what a sight she must be," you muse, partially uninterested now that your partner has declared the purpose of his attendance entirely political by speaking of his one true love whilst in your presence.

prince jeno stops, the hand of his on your back slots for more support and he lowers your figure down by the waist, hie eyes never leaving yours and your noses touch, "yes, you are quite the sight." 

prince jeno's passed the golfing greens, the rose gardens, the hiking trails, and the fencing grounds, but he has yet to find something that catches his eye, something he has never seen. as a southern kingdom native and royal, the northern kingdom is easily foreign territory. the air is clear here, there's no soot to brush off when you head inside, and a step outside the walls of the palace, he knows he'll find artisan markets that run for miles instead of coal sites. the artisan markets, he thinks, is where he wants to go. 

he's just tipping into the edge of the thick forest that lines the southeastern bounds of the estate when his ears pick up on the babble of a creek. jeno's quick to brush through the creepers and ramblers until the trees give into an expanse of open air. the creek he'd thought he heard is in actuality a wide bathing pool, the water a clear green. he spots a level bronzed rock on which you lay, bare-skinned, the direct sunlight engulfing your figure in glorification. quickly, he diverts his eyes and clears his throat to announce his presence. you're also quick to your feet at the sound, scrambling to grasp at your robes strewn about. 

to your surprise, the man, whom you've now identified as the second prince of the coal mines, has not left and is simply standing still, his back turned to you. it's now you that clears your throat and he understands well enough by turning back around to face a clothed you, the flames of his cheeks withstanding. 

"it's quite alright, you know, nothing to be embarrassed about." he hums in response and you proceed with your thoughts, "but i'd like to affirm it was by chance, was it not?"

jeno clasps his hands behind his back, willing his eyes to yours, "surely by chance, i would no- never- not dare, such intentions are not-" he's cut off by your chuckles, light and airy, like bouts melancholy chords to his ears. the prince, a boy who had been schooled by only the finest etiquette scholars of the region, finds himself blundering for words. jeno is undeniably embarrassed by now, but his eyes soften as you take steps towards him, fingers fumbling to tie your robes shut. 

the heat in his cheeks is still very noticeable but his shortness of breath is not. the prince even goes so far as to close the distance between the two of you himself, hands coming to your aid in lacing the strands of ribboned satin together, gently tugging it into a looped butterfly. you think his favored form of communication is the clearing of his throat for he does it once again, "will you allow me hold account for my mishaps?"

"you hardly did much wrong, your highness." his nose scrunches at the formality.

"then may i repay you for your forgiveness?"

your expression isn't shy to conceal your incredulity at his persistence, "my, now i cannot help but be a tad bit intrigued. what can you offer than i cannot already find on my own land?"

"allow me," he pauses, a smile forming before he can even let you in on his gracious idea, "to give you a tour of the artisan marts, what do you suppose?" the smile is contagious, infectious even, spreading onto your face as well, "a mineral boy to guide me through fine arts? i think i ought to say yes."

your peals of laughter are imminent in the air of sundown. he thinks the painted coasters are plates, he sees the tapestries as scarves, the delicate ribbons as horse whips. but when the two of you come across an array of jeweled accessories, he has the gall to sneak a sapphired hair pin from the display and slot it between your locks, the hood shielding your identity from passerbyers  falling back. you're eyes are blown wide at this but jeno simply smiles, fingers coursing through two entangled tresses, courtesy of the abrasion on the rough commoner's fabric. 

"a pretty face like yours should never have to hide," he chides. jeno's eyes form soft crescents and he's subtle when he takes your hand in his, "wouldn't want to lose you, princess." you see him slip a gold coin for the dear madam selling the goods before he's off, jogging lightly and pulling you close to his back. the destination is unknown to you but the man seems to lead with an air of awareness. he slows a few blocks down, allowing you to catch your breath as you note that his hood has also been brushed back. returning the favor, you go on your toes to ruffle the strands into place, not missing the surprised flinch his composure gives way to. people left and right are starting to notice, it just so happens that the two of you are stood right in the middle of all the commotion that comes with the afternoon wave of customers. "over here."

jeno's hand is in yours again and you wonder if it's the cause of the heavy hammering in your heart. you wonder, because though it is certainly not an unwelcome feeling, you doubt you've ever felt it beat so hard. his hand gives your own a squeeze and it's as if your heartstrings have been strummed like a guitar, his ragged breaths music to your ears, a remedy for your aches. the narrow alleyway he's entered hosts a light at the end and it opens up into a view of the town, the terracotta-tiled roofings, bronzed candle streetlamps, public works funded by your mother, and all the townspeople going about their days, now in miniscule movements. the sun is just about setting but from the looks of it, it might as well be seen as rising. afterall, who is to say that only sunrises bring new days? new times, new beginnings, new understandings, new loves are all brought about just as much from sunsets as sunrises. and if there's one thing to prove that, it's the way jeno's hand never leaves yours, not for the rest of the night. 

"and they'd asked if i should want to extend the stay for anyone."

prince jeno crosses his room and leans upon the footboard of his bed. a week certainly isn't enough to develop a bond of marriage but he is glad to acknowledge that it doesn't get any better than this. "and did you?" he knows where you're going with this, you know that he knows, the whole palace knows that you know that he knows. why else would crown princess y/n head down to the guest quarters, to ask for the room number of a specific boy, if not to tell said boy, whom she had spent almost every second of the week with, that she would like it if he stayed? 

"yes, i did, i requested your stay. late yesterday, in fact, but i didn't have it in me to inform you until now." you're blushing and he's thrust into the awareness that the feelings you subject him to aren't customary. "will you be staying?" his eyes are unwavering on yours as if to tell you exactly what he means to say before he eventually does, "it'd be my pleasure."

a knock on the door breaks the moment, but jeno is quick to call the maid in. a letter is tucked between her fingers and upon delivery, the prince recognizes his name printed in the neat scrawl of his mother. an absentminded, "thanks" is followed up by the zealous unsheathing of the letter, a ill-minded idea of the content already forming in the forefront of his mind.

our dearest jeno,

it has come to our attention that you plan on extending your stay until a month's time. officials of the northern kingdom are already working in conjunction with our advisors to plan a date. of most excitement did it certainly incite within your family. had i known you'd be married off to a lass of such prestigious blood, i would have sent you much earlier. your father would love to hear of your methods of courting, perhaps your brother could do well with it no doubt. i've no time to spare, the schematics of your succession are coming fast in the drawing room. expect no less than the best and send my warmest regards to the young highness.

all the best, your dearest mother.

"she'd like to welcome you to the family, that's what's said." jeno's thankful that you decided to teeter over to him now, after he finished skimming through the damned article. he has time to fold it closed before you're by his side, fingers reaching for his. he's rubbing smooth lines into the ridges of your palms. "i suppose they are all thinking the same thing, marriage."

you speak, "do you suggest that it's wrong of them?" but jeno wishes you'd get to the point so he can tell you just what he means.

"not wrong, but natural. if i was my father i doubt i'd think any different."

"then, if not your father, how would you think?"

"i think," he's drawn to the way your teeth bite down on your lips. "i think i'd like it." his thoughts block out everything except the image of your lips and he ponders following through with the ideas plaguing his mind. jeno goes in when you draw back, turning to hide your flushed state. you're retreating even further now, taking an exit all together but not before clearing the air. "breakfast tomorrow at seven, east wing. ask a maid if you are unsure."

next time, he thinks.

breakfast is silent sans the clattering of cutlery on plates but jeno finds baseline joy in the shy glances that you sneak at him across the table. he does not, however, particularly like the prolonged stares your father blatantly spends on him. jeno thinks he's about to look away, for the sixth time at that, when the elder decides upon the moment to speak, "a striking young man, i'll let that. y/n, dear, pray tell me your decision was not built on his good looks." your father is rather speaking to you.

your face burns up in tinged mortification, "father, that is hardly an appropriate question to bring up over the course of a family meal-"

much to your chagrin, the king pays no heed to your interjections and resumes, "preposterous as it may seem, i would despise if our ranks were to be infiltrated by those of the miner's kingdom. our liberal arts are not so often mixed with a line of lowly traitors, an observation may i add-"

"father! oh, how lowly it is of you to be restricting a kind young sir of royal blood to the bounds of his heritage!" your mother has halted in her tracks, setting a golden spoon aside and retreating her hands to her lap.

"must you forget that the blood in him courses silver not gold?" your father's voice never raises, never lowers. you fail at maintaining the same composure, distress budding between outbursts. 

"color does not render the propriety of one for better or worse. i believe that was what you'd taught me to rule by but for laughs or for naught, a king you so-call yourself!" 

breakfast is silent once again, but this time, not even the aid of cutlery against plates is around to sheath the tension in the air. jeno's enlightened to learn of this side of you. your eyes are hardened, your jaw left slightly unhinged, and deep breaths are taken to retain any sort of semblance. he sees determination in your eyes, lined with a raw and unearthed air of conviction, and there's no other way to describe the look on your face except to say that you are solely driven by a vehement passion for righteousness. but drawing back from the you who has captivated him, he's left with the realization that he hasn't given a second thought to his original resolve since setting foot in the palace. and while the four of you sit in silence, glares and glowers being thrown about, prince jeno is daunted by the fact that more than ever, he feels the fervent ardor that in order to be a king, deserving of accolade and reverence, he needs you by his side to be his queen.

"what my father thinks is beyond me, really. i'd only hope what he said doesn't deter you all that much." you pop a cherry into your mouth, fingers clasping the stem and tugging it off with a pop. jeno looks down at you in adoration, the events of this morning a figment of the past. "not much at all for me, if it doesn't bother you." the soft smile that fills his countenance is given as if to say, 'as you wish, my love.'

you sit up abruptly, the thin cotton cloth scrunching under your thighs. the grass is still dewy from the morning showers but you slip off your sandals in favor of the bare grit of soil beneath your feet. the sun is beginning to stutter from its position overhead but not so fast, you think, the day has just begun. with one last look spared for the bewildered boy, you mouth a 'catch me if you can,' before bundling up the folds of your linen dress into your hands and taking off into the open fields. native flowers of poppies and calendula, orange and white, are trampled in your wake but you don't mind because prince jeno is hot on your heels. he is hot on your heels with a grin of mirth gracing his expression and strides that are long and fast. so fast that you are caught within a matter of seconds, encased in his arms before you even know it, feet lifting off the ground and squeals of protest in response. the adrenaline in your system is slow to subside as you land on your feet once again, eyes lit up like a child's in front of santa claus. the verdant grass looks a murky brown behind your rose-tinted glasses but prince jeno continues to look ethereal. grasping his dark locks in a fistful, you tug him down so that your lips meet and in no time, his lips are working fast against your own. the sensations are nothing short of paradisiacal, as opposite ends of the planet meet, the sun and the moon, the sky and the earth, summer and winter, water and fire, and silver and gold.

wet and slippery, you laugh at the strand of saliva that spreads thinner as you part from his lips. jeno repositions so that you are situated on his back and he allows you to catch your breath before strolling aimlessly across the grounds, as if what happened seconds beforehand didn't just mark the beginning of time. he takes you back inside once the sun has set and your eyelids are half closed. he waits outside in your chamber as you bathe and he stands behind you as your sit in front of your vanity, hair dripping wet and a towel in hand. jeno is gathering your hair in his hands, smoothing over your wet locks with the cloth when he remembers. he remembers the dream he had just over a fortnight ago. the one where he stood in this exact spot. he remembers it just as he sees you give a small chortle in the reflection of the mirror in response to him playfully pulling your hair a little too hard, an act of jest. the trickling feeling of déjà vu hits him so terribly hard but he can only live out the dream in real time, his fingers gently raking your now dried hair. he spins you in his seat and decides that whatever vision he was granted hadn't been revealed to him until now for the very reason being that he simply wasn't ready. the jeno of two weeks ago wasn't ready to love another, to accept another, to cherish another as he does now. now, for you. 

prince jeno's eyes are glazed over in awe and revelation as he feels the way your hands draw him closer to you by his waist, entwining your bodies. he's overcome with the need to be the one to make you feel the same way you do unto him. gingerly he lifts you from your spot, hands hooking under the crevice beneath your knees with your arms riding up to his shoulders while effectively removing his shirt in one fluid motion. he's glad that you share the same idea. 

that night is the first of many where he shows you the sheer magnitude of which he loves you. he lives for the look of your star-studded eyes, rolling back into your head and the way your toes curl as you call out his name and his name only. he breathes for the way your fingers are in a world of their own as they scour every inch of his hair, pushing and pulling the same way the moon teases its waters. his mere existence is reliant on the shine of his arousal on the bare skin of your stomach. with each time, jeno is reborn.

it's the crack of dawn when he hears your voice, barely scathing the absolute threshold, "i am still very much awake."

"as am i," jeno lifts his head to look across the room, past the dirtied sheets, the swathes of clothes on the ground, to the doors of the balcony that are swung wide open. the sky is of a distilled blue, not yet bright, but still illuminated by the crown of the sun.

"would it be deemed a waste to simply lay here for the duration of the night?" you question, but move to sit up in decisiveness. jeno answers offhandedly once again, even now revelling in the feeling of your skin on his, "i would feel so, yes."

"shall we take a trip to the study? i recall you mentioning a desire to visit." the prince smiles at this. curt again, "if you'd like."

"yes, a warm cup of tea and agreeable literature is an ancient remedy for sleeplessness. my, morning it is already. i don't suppose a morning nap has ever been heard of, though i'd think i'd like just that at this moment." you mumble out the last half, partially rambling to yourself. 

"light a candle, my dear, my eyes aren't half as sharp in the dim light." you chuckle at that and reach for the brass pricket set on your bedside table. upon lighting it, you are met with the boy's face irradiated in such a way that accentuates everything from his sharp jawline to the apples of his cheeks. he smiles as takes the instrument from you to allow you to don some clothes. the same is done for him and the two of you make quick time in rushing across the stale floors of the palace to the opposite wing. 

the main library, situated on the third floor but occupying large parts of both the third and fourth, is certainly the pride and treasure of the palace, the crown jewel of the northern kingdom even. the separate floors are each sixteen feet in height, filled wall-to-wall with encased book upon book. the collection dates back to the romans and as far forward as your most recent journal entry. jeno pads upon the floors that boast a parqueted mahogany, the same that runs along the integrated shelving and the carvings that crown the skylight above. the windows are made of giant panels of stained glass, mosaics that depict the landscapes just beyond, and as a result, the little light the sun has to offer is cast in shades of blue, green, and red. an assemblage of the masterpieces of ettore forti, genuine, he suspects, are hung in individual alcoves and molded with golden embellishments. jeno thinks the northern kingdom simply cannot have anything better to offer than this. except for you, he thinks.

a maid delivers your tea promptly, a gentle brew of loose leaf herbs, ginger and rooibos by the taste of it and you settle into the plush velvet of the segmented lounge. the work you're reading aloud is enough to keep you awake for the better half of an hour before you begin dozing off. your soft and even breaths are enough for jeno to be shaken from his attention on a few select poems, and he's careful when he moves to replace the leather-bound diary in your hands, with a hand of his own. jeno uses his other hand to cradle the side of your face, as any besotted boy would do, caressing by the means of docile strokes. he feels a mellow calm when you're persistent by his side, even in your sleep. tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, he's leaning in for a quick kiss to the temple when the door of the study is propped ajar, a boy of briefer height emerging from the unlit halls. 

jeno recognizes the boy almost instantly, the image of you walking hand in hand with him still as unrelenting in his mind as it was on day one. lee donghyuck, of similar surname but a long-diverging lineage, the fourth prince of the eastern kingdom of agriculture. jeno isn't hit with jealousy, per se, but rather annoyance. 

donghyuck's steps halt the moment he sees the still figure on the juniper-stained chaise. his brows draw in suspicion but he's prudent of the expression he lets on. a dialogue of whispers ensues.

"prince jeno, is it?" donghyuck's face darkens when the other nods. "ah, i've heard of the tidings, may i pass on sincere felicitations to you and your betrothed."

"much obliged, prince donghyuck, i presume." obverse, the aforementioned boy nods.

despite all his efforts, donghyuck can't help but let loose a sliver of his composure, "i have little credit i can give to your word, but i'd like to hear what you have to say in regards to the arrangement."

prince jeno is ticked off now, to say the least, he hides his vexation by keeping his reply as formally insincere as he can muster, "elated, the arrangement could not have been better dealt with." 

"and you are a man that deals in the prospects of union?" donghyuck does not mean to nitpick but there's no way around it when the prince in front of him is so obviously indignated by his presence. you could say that he's been provoked.

voice held level, jeno proceeds, "i am a man of virtue and i come in good faith, i assure you."

"i must inquire, a man of virtue and good faith? i'd like to know of you and your families' conspiracies, falsities, machinations." a snide and low-shot remark, no doubt, but it riles up the taller of the two fair enough.

jeno sussurates, raspy voice and all, "and who are you, brave enough to speak in such a fashion to a second prince."

"gold by marriage is synonymous to silver by birth. why count the numbers when we are one and the same?" donghyuck's voice is still a bare undertone, but harsh and course in resonance. 

"a pity you weren't raised to tell the difference." neither of the princes bother to conceal their malignity for the other. if you were awake, neither would know, too caught up in the heat of their frustration. 

donghyuck is fed up with years of spite and built-up distaste. in between all the blundering he has found a point, a target to aim for. he may not see jeno as a harm to you but he knows there's an unspoken wedge that revolves around his family. donghyuck glows in his opportune moment, then he strikes, "and you were raised upon your father's supremacy. do tell, do you believe your father to be an honest man?"

he is met with jeno's silence, compliance, submission.

the leisure sport of swordsmanship is what prince jeno sets out for first thing after ensuring you had woken and eaten something fulfilling. he is in the need to exert his energy on something, or someone, that isn't an acquaintance of yours, for fear that he has done more damage than good by manifesting himself as an enemy in the eyes of your closest companion. he requests your court's highest ranking knight and is surprised and slightly jarred that the man before him is of a smaller stature, a few inches shorter with narrow shoulders and lean muscles. renjun is the name he goes by and he dominates without the need of force. jeno tells the boy to display his best effort, that a scuff here and there is fine, but he severely misconstrues his opponent's abilities. 

renjun, as it turns out, finds amusement in jeno's stances, flaws evident in ways that only he can see. undermining the prince's pride is what he aims for and he does exactly that, successful with three strokes, two that flit like sparks in the air and the last that scathes the skin of the prince's left wrist. it's small in area and deep in puncture, the raw film underneath unfurling within itself, but it's enough for him to call the session off. jeno's hand withdraws from the new wound and he's met with the sight of red.

the prince is drawn, in many ways more than one, to the red as it seeps between the clasp of his fingers. as it begins its descent towards the fast-approaching floor, the floor of white limestone. he's drawn by the depth he sees within the color, the solidarity he feels towards the hue. in the silver ichor that pools by his feet, he's drawn to his blood red reflection.

jeno finds you retired in your room that night, in exhaustion of formal meetings and other circumstances that required a princess' supervision. despite this, your visage still lights with joy upon seeing the prince. "would you prefer if i let you rest?"

"depends, what will you propose if i refuse?" the lilt to your voice has him almost coddling, his thumbs running circles on the skin behind your ears down to your neck to release the tensions. "i'd propose a midnight adventure, stargazing maybe." 

you give a modest snigger, "a bit of a romanticist, aren't you?"

"only for you i must admit." his tone is humorless. "are you up for it, dear?"

your face returns taut, "yes, needless to say, only for you." 

prince jeno takes you by the hand, he leads and you follow. he makes rounds about the same halls, you think he's unsure of where he is heading, but he comes to a stop at the precipice of the fourth landing. the balcony that leans off to the side is one that you have never stood atop of before though you're unsure why. the outlook it bestows upon you is breathtaking, even in the dead of night. just barely are the outlines of the flowers oscillating in the drafts shown, even fainter are the hills that overlap in the distance, but oh-so-clear is the moon. 

it's quartered today, the slope of the curve is round and prominent. all of a sudden, jeno is quoting ray bradbury, a classic text he knows you'll know a little too much about. "and if you look," he nods to the sky, "there's a man in the moon." as he conjectured, you're quick to catch on the act before the moment dissipates, "he hadn't looked for a long time."

"do you believe in the man in the moon?"

"i believe in the man and the moon, but the man in the moon is very much apparent as well." your eyes are set in the stars. "he is astray and far from the ground, from earth. he does not seek what we all should seek, but rather he dives headfirst into the superficial."

"and what is it that we all should seek?"

"the one thing in the world that carries any significance at all: happiness."

it is now that prince jeno sees himself as the man in the moon, chasing after mirages of aspirations when in truth, he does not find solace in power, he does not revel in the destruction of others, he does not take lightly when the lonely are forsaken and he shall never partake in the atrocities his father subjects him to. but the man in the moon is a conscious past of his, a living memory of growth, for jeno finds happiness in you; you who grounds him to the earth.

lee jeno thinks the world of you and, as the greatest russian poet ever wrote, "she is a beauty. yes, a marble nymph; angelic eyes, unearthly lips…" (Alexander Pushkin, The Collected Works; "A Suite of Lighted Rooms")

read volume two here: overcast skies and those who die.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

[itsapapisongo]

A Prince’s Tale | PRELUDE

Offering context, a warning, and setting the tone, the Narrator wishes you to lower your expectations.

Genre: Adventure | Comedy | Fantasy

Word Count: 916

Warning Content: Language

Taglist: @scriptura-delirus​ | @hyuckworld​

M. List (Part I) | M. List (Part II)

ONCE UPON A time, in a far away land, there was a princess—wait, was it a princess?

It could have been a prince. Or a pauper. Or was it a piper? Honestly, these stories tend to start the same way so it’s hard to keep track of which one is which, hard to remember the aesop—no, that’s for fables. What’s the term I’m looking for? Oh, yes, the moral of the story. Then again, I suppose they’re the same fucking thing.

Oh, Good Lord. Did the Narrator just—dramatic gasp—cuss? That did not just happen. Right in front of the kiddos, too. How could they? Once Upon a Time stories are family friendly. Why would I, the Narrator just make this tale all not-safe-for-work and thus family unfriendly?

Why, you may ask? Well, dearest reader, because I can. Besides, I don’t see another bloody Narrator. So I suggest you pipe down, get comfortable, and just go with it.

STOP ME IF you heard this one before:

Once Upon a Time, there was a beautiful princess. She’d been enchanted with magic of a powerful and fearful sort, which could only be broken by love’s first kiss. Locked away in a castle, guarded by a terribly crotchety, fire-breathing dragon, she was kept sequestered from the outside world.

Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison. None prevailed. Thus the beautiful princess waited in the dragon’s keep—stranded in the highest room of the tallest tower, in an ostentatious suite that no one but her had ever lived in—waited for her true love and love’s first kiss.

If you have, then you know the tale of an ogre, a talking donkey, a princess with a secret, and a short king with an inferiority complex. Our story is not that of an ogre who falls in love—though someone will save a princess, battle a dragon, be over their heads, and undoubtedly find true love—so if that’s what you’re expecting, which I hope you’re not, I exhort you to lower your expectations because no Narrator worth their salt can’t possibly fulfill them.

Well, truth be told, it’s not really a matter of can’t. More of a matter of won’t.

Now, without further ado, let’s get this shit-show on the road.

OUR STORY BEGINS in a familiar, if clichéd fashion. 

It goes like this: Once Upon a Time, in a far away land, there was a prince tasked with rescuing a princess. This fair maiden whom he had never met would become his betrothed. If his brothers didn’t take up the throne, she would thus his queen.

Thing was, this prince aspired to be a hero. He dreamed of being a brave, righteous knight that rode across the land and lent his sword and shield to the less fortunate and those aggravated by two-bit thugs, treacherous trolls, deadly dragons, and whoever had the audacity to burn the peoples’ crops, barns, houses, or, if they were petty enough, smack their children around.

From an early age, the prince was made aware that danger and evil roamed the Nation, concealing themselves on every corner and shadow throughout the land. He made it his responsibility to know how to defend himself so that he could defend others. And so it was done because he trained until he was sore and easily wielding a sword was second nature.

You see, the throne scared the prince but going on potentially dangerous adventures didn’t. He was very much aware of the irony and would jest to anyone that would listen that a troll or a dragon were nothing to fear compared to any royal advisor or pompous noblemen. He’d prefer to be out there—riding horses, sleeping in inns or camping on the edge of a forest, being among the common folk—rather than in the palace, among anxious aids and smug sycophants.

His mother, the beloved if unorthodox queen, had been an outdoors kind of lady in her youth. She understood her son’s yearning for a life that rejected the constraints of royalty and instead provided opportunities to thrust oneself into the unknown.

And so when the young prince was told that he was to embark on a high-adventure and rescue a beautiful princess, she gave the prince her blessing and made arrangements—dusted off maps and instructive survivalist tomes, readied horses, sharpened blades, packed clothes and food and healing balms and tonics—for her son to be ready.

It wasn’t surprising to everyone in the palace when the prince prepared himself for a thrilling, if arduous journey to the heart of the Nation.

The prince’s father, the king, wasn’t as accepting as he believed his son’s place was in the palace, learning of proper etiquette, diplomacy, foreign policies, taxes, and how to be profane and sarcastic in a gentlemanly manner. The king relented, however, when he realized he couldn’t keep his youngest son from paving his own path. And though he was the ruler of Han Do Province, he wasn’t a bumbling fool: arguing with his wife was an ever-losing battle and he’d learned bluffing or rebuffing was an utterly useless endeavor.

And so the prince left Han Do Province, accompanied by his trust steed, his best friend, and a bard. He rode at dawn, full of purpose, itching to save the day and pave his own path.

However, he wasn’t expecting two things: not knowing where the princess’ tower was and the exasperated, but handsome knight tailing them.

[yomimio]

The Northern Lion pt1

A child of a loveless marriage. Unwanted. A burden. A monster. A freak. Many words were used to describe her. Always behind her father’s back, of course. Not many were brave or stupid enough to risk the wrath of the Old lion.

It all started with a loveless marriage, but not her father’s, as many tend to assume. No, this problem has its roots in an incident years before, back when the Iron Throne was just changing owners.

The young and hot headed heir to the Storms End seat was surrounded by war. Swinging his battle-axe back and forth he gained more and more enemy’s land. Aided by his most trusted friends, Jon Arryn and The silent wolf, Eddard Stark, he was able to almost feel the hardness of the throne under his not-yet-voluptuous behind. He was so close. But it was not enough, for the old and crazy dragon was not ken on giving away his power.

The opportunity to win the war was presented to him one day in the shape of a letter with a lion on its crimson seal. All the military power of the Westernlands to his disposition, in exchange for his hand in marriage. The old king had refused to marry his son to the young daughter of his Hand of the King and Lord of Casterly Rock. First mistake. No one refuses a Lannister.

Robert Baratheon accepted the loveless marriage just to get the throne. Second mistake. It was truly an unhappy bond that gave him nothing but despair. Which contributed to his already strong resentment against the golden lions and, specially, against the head of their house.

The now king, started to alleviate this spitefulness with little acts against the Lannisters. First it was things like offending his wife, her brothers… but soon he formed a more calculated plan. He wanted their house gone.

Tywin has only three children. One he was married to, so that ensured that her children wouldn’t be able to inherit Casterly Rock. The twin he appointed as one of his kingsguard, so he could not marry nor inherit lands. It was perfect. There was no one that could follow the Lannister line no more, for the third child was the Old lion’s shame. Tywin would never allow the Imp to become Lord and Warden of the West. His little revenge was complete.

But he was a greedy man. It was on her wife’s and queen’s birthday that he decided to make what would become his biggest mistake so far. A western bard sang at the party. It was a love song. A song about the love of a lion. Truly, a beautiful song. Then he remembered. He remembered how much Tywin Lannister loved his wife Joanna, and how her death had affected him (making him hate his youngest son even more).

There it was. The way to ultimately humiliate Tywin. It was not easy, but it was done. Tywin Lannister remarried. Another forced and unhappy marriage. The young bride was selected from a northern house in hopes to tickle even more the lion’s distaste for the North. Brilliant.

And a child was born. The mother was too fragile. The lion was two times widowed.

A girl. The ultimate failure. The stag was ecstatic, Fortune favored him. Now Tywin did not have other option than name the Imp Lord, if he wanted the Lannister name to survive, but he knew the lion would never do that. He had won. Or so he thought. Fourth mistake.

The little girl was a disappointment for her father. He knew what the king was trying to do, and between his rage, he also knew he had nothing to do. Tyrion would be a shame to the Lannister name and the newborn could not inherit the titles. If only she was a boy!

There was nothing to do. The baby was left behind in the North where she was born, in her mother’s family keep. Forgotten.

It was not so bad, at least what (Y/N) Lannister could remember of those years. She ran wild in the forests that surrounded the castle, played with the town’s children, when she learned how to read, she spent hours holed up in the library. She absorbed what she read. At nine years old she already knew many military strategies, knew how to heal, how to make poisons and (by her constant nagging to the master at arms) how to defend herself with a small knife, and was quite proficient with the bow. It was impressive. She was impressive. She was happy. She lived, acted and talked like a true northerner. The North was what she was. It was the only thing she knew. She had been told that she had a father, yes. That he was an important Lord in the South. But these facts went over her head. What did it matter if she had a father or not? She never met him. And she would never. Fifth mistake.

All of (Y/N)’s world came crashing down around her 10th birthday. She had already lost her front teeth and she had now the permanent ones. But the canines. These were the problem. You see, there were ancient legends about the old Houses. It’s said that every hundreds of generations, and if the parents were strong and powerful enough, a child was born that sported some of the traits of the House’s sigil. Old widows even say that some of those children had the power to shapeshift into the House’s animal sigil. But these last ones were folly. What was not folly was the fang that sprouted from where her canine had fall. She did not mind it, why would she? It was a tooth, wasn’t it? What of it was a bit sharper than what the others had? Better to rip the meat off the turkey’s leg bone!

Her household minded though.

By the time the news reached Casterly Rock, she had two fangs, her upper and lower right ones. She had a …. special smile.

She did not understand all the fuss over it. Yes, she was a little different, so what? (Y/N) did not know that her life would radically change because of that. She did not know that, but what she did know was that all those people wearing armor and carrying red flags with golden lions, were a sight to behold when they crossed her keep’s gates.

(A/N): I do not own any characters from Game of Thrones. This is just made for fun. I don’t own any image or gif unless I specifically say so. English is not my first language, so sorry about the mistakes. Some events may differ from canon, but since *those two* can do whatever they want, then so can I. :)

[minervacasterly]

Eleanor, by the Grace of God, Queen of the English, Duchess of the Normans & Duchess of the Aquitanians and Countess of the Angevins

“… the young heiress was fair enough to content any king … “Charming,” “welcoming” and “lively” (avenante, vailante, courtoise) are the words used by the chroniclers to portray her … Her education had not of course furnished her with the orderly intellectual baggage fit for an abbess. Though doubtless, like all the heirs of her race, she had her tutors, her real school had been a varied experience …” (Amy Ruth Kelly, Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Four Kings)

The END OF THE EAGLETS’ REBELLION AND ELEANOR’S CAPTIVITY:

“Henry had no need of trumpets to tell him that sedition in Poitou had not been quenched by the imprisonment of Eleanor. He had suppressed the rebellion that had threatened the Angevin empire with a success so signal that it was popularly attributed to the miraculous intervention of Saint Thomas. But to the prescient Angevin the conclusion had less the character of finale than of omnious prelude. The whole uprising had revealed, not only to him, but to his enemies, the extent of a many-sided discontent that needed only coherence to be overwhelming. The queen, though in his hands, remained the object of intrigue, the inspiration of her rival foot-loose sons and of the turbulent fortune seekers who found their profit in war and rapine. The king turned over in his mind the problem of what to do with his captive … To divorce her might be tempting; the grounds were excellent –treason and two more degrees of consanguinity than had been sufficient in Louis’s case- but he could not set her free in her own estates to make some new alliance of her own. Capable as he was of reading the lessons of history, he had no mind to repeat Louis’s fatal blunder. He needed legates to suggest to him how scrupulous the King of France would be in the interest of his vassal, if once she were at liberty. To keep her in custody (forever?) might hinder new intrigues … In the court there remained alone of the famous coterie of the Plantagenets the Capetian princess Alais. In 1176 she was sixteen. No fault was found with her person. She was comely, gifted, nobly dowered, and she too had been polished for her role in the school of Marie of Champagne [Louis VII’s third wife]. Why was the Frankish princess alone of all that noble company of dames choises left unwed in the palaces of the Plantagenet king? Why had other marriages been proposed for the Count of Poitou? The world made these inquiries and the Capets pressed them home. In 1177, in extreme agitation, Louis appealed to Rome to enforce the marriage of Alais to the Count of Poitou [Richard] on pain of interdict on all the lands of Henry Fitz-Empress on both sides of the channel … Giraldus relates that Henry, confident of his prospect of getting rid of the queen through his appeal to the Pope, intended to take the Capetian princess for himself, disinherit the fierce eaglets of Poitou as the bastard of a consanguineous marriage, and rear a new progeny to possess the Angevin empire. Giraldus, never more piously enthusiastic than when exposing Henry’s vices, declares that after his separation from the queen, the king turned openly to the evil courses he had long secretly pursued. Briefly he flaunted the beautiful Clifford, and when she had vanished from the scene, he made a mistress of his precious hostage, the daughter of his overlord, the bride affianced to his son.  Did the Angevin mean to erase from his life story the chapter of his union with the disastrous Poitevin and go back to his earlier plan for a primary alliance with his overlord? It was recalled that before he had sold his birthright for Poitou and Aquitaine, he had sought a marriage with Louis’s eldest daughter, the Countess of Champagne …” (Kelly, Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Four Kings)

Henry II of England’s relationship and ultimate goal with Alice of France is still being debated. Whether or not he intended to divorce his wife (a woman who had given him plenty of sons) and who in spite of their rebellion, were of a fighting age to defend their respective dominions and perpetuate the new Plantagenet dynasty, is immaterial. Louis VII of France was against the match and so were most of the clergy. Following the death of their eldest son, the young King Henry; Eleanor and Henry II seemed to reach a peace of sorts.When Henry died, he was mourned by his subjects. Whatever his personal flaws, he had governed the country well and restored order to the anarchy caused by the civil war that erupted as a result of his cousin Stephen being chosen over his grandfather’s chosen heir, Henry II’s mother, Matilda. In spite of this, he left a strong inheritance to his surviving male heirs, among them his wife’s favorite, Richard who became the new King of England

“… he had left his inedible stamp on all of France and the British Isles. Until his last years he had mastered every king, duke, and count who had tested him. He was perhaps the most famous man in Christendom. And his fame burned across the ages to follow. For Henry II, king of England, duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, count of Anjou, Maine, and Touraine, and lord of Ireland, had begun a dynasty that shaped the future of Europe for more than two centuries.” (Dan Jones, The Plantagenet Warrior Kings and Queens who made England)

Despite their quarrels, Eleanor was well aware of the big shoes her favorite son would have to fill. And more importantly whom he’d choose to look after England when he went seeking glory in the Holy land and elsewhere.

“Richard processed to Westminster behind ranks of bishops and abbots, barons, knights, and the solemn officers of England ... Perhaps the proudest of them all was Eleanor of Aquitaine. To see Richard crowned king of England represented the apogee of his mother’s ambition, fulfilling as it did a famous prophecy of Merlin: “The eagle of the broken covenant will rejoice in [her] third nesting.” Immediately on Henry’s death, her beloved son had released her form captivity and restored the lands and revenues that had been taken from her as punishment for the rebellion of 1173; even before he had arrived in England, Richard had sent a command that his mother, now aged sixty-six, should occupy a preeminent place in English government. She had spent the weeks preceding the coronation traveling around the country, holding court, and extracting oaths of allegiance from the great and good of the realm …” (Jones, The Plantagenet Warrior Kings and Queens who made England)

When Richard I of England died, a part of Eleanor died. But she remained resilient as ever, doing what had to be done to safeguard the new king of England (her youngest son, John “Lackland”) throne. As a result, John came to her aid when she was about to be captured by her grandson, Arthur of Brittany, son of her late second son, Geoffrey. Since war had broken out between Philip II of France and John I of England, the former believed he could gain the upper hand by showing his first ace under his sleeve in the form of Eleanor’s grandson. The teen (arguably) had a better claim than his uncle. John was the youngest of the eaglets, Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine’s brood while Arthur was the son of their second son. Angered by Eleanor’s decision to support his uncle, Arthur pushed back by laying siege to the Castle of Mirebeau, where she was staying, in Aquitaine (modern day Western France).

Eleanor had been through all sorts of adventures and survived all kinds of treacherous plots and court intrigues. Her determination, wit, ambition as well as her struggle to preserve the courts of love and other knightly romantic culture through her granddaughter Blanche of Castile, are a testament to the incredible woman that she was. After that foiled attempt though, Eleanor opted for a rest that was long overdue. Like many aristocratic women of the medieval world, she took the veil and became a nun. She died three years later in 1204 and was entombed Fontevrault Abbey in the county of Anjou next to Henry II.

[riotatthemovies]

Halloween sitcom specials.

When the Halloween season comes rolling in I like most people start to watch more horror movies (maybe even more than I usually do). But near Halloween the horror I watch needs to have a childish innocence to it. Memories of Halloween with candy and costumes and telling each other innocent ghosts stores around a fire to spook each other. That's what Halloween is for me, memories of how as a child monsters and ghosts were just too damn cool. So the horror films I choose are more monster based often with a folklore campfire tales twists. However I also love flashing back to the cheesiest childhood memories of tv at the time. Everyone loves the better episode of Simpsons Treehouse of horror. The VHS collecting geeks I talk to often post articles about the infamous Halloween make up tips tapes and safety PSA tapes of the 80s. 

For your retro entertainment I bring you a list of my 10 favorite sitcom and kids show Halloween episodes of my youth. I say my favorite not the best because I'm sure if I said the best I'll get a msg saying I'm wrong. Also I'm sure some kids gonna tell me of a that's so Raven episode and I'm an old so I never watched that. Also people always talk about the Rosanne Halloween episodes so I will let everyone else talk about those. Also note there was never a Golden girls Halloween special and if there was there is no doubt that would be the top of my list. So this is in no real order . . .

10: Facts of Life Season 5 episode The Halloween Show

Natalie is making a home movie and SPOILER tricks all the girls into believing their den mother is possessed by a ghost and is turning random people into sausages and feeding them to the group. Yeah seriously that's the point, I mean you don't know its Natalie tricking everyone so she can film a reality horror film until the end but you figure it out. Its completely unbelievable that the group of girls fall for this and legit believe it enough to try and fight their den mother that they have been best friends with for five seasons. The magic of a show being 25 minutes long that the characters have to jump to huge assumptions and get over it and a chuckle pretty quick too.

9: Webster Season 4 episode Witchbusters

Webster has some non Halloween oddly creepy episodes as it was pure 80s kids entertainment. Webster loved wearing Halloween masks and in season 2 he finds a creepy doll in the room of a missing girl that looks like a real person and comes off very Black Christmas/ Psycho. But I love the season 4 episode where Webster is peer pressured into sneaking into an old ladies house on Halloween because everyone thinks she is a witch. When Webster sneaks in his friend chickens out and leaves . Webster then finds one of the old ladies cats and thinks it is his friend who had been turned into the cat by the witch. Like many episodes the issue at had happens because Webster is really dumb. So of course he kidnaps the cat and takes it home because he thinks its his friend. Dumb Webster Dumb. Man I loved that stupid show.

8 .Family Matters season 8 episode STEVIL

Many people seem to remember the Halloween episode where infamous Steve Urkel brings a ventriloquist dummy to the Winslows Halloween party and as as ventriloquist dummies do , it comes to life and tries to kill everyone. Goosebumps meets Family Matters right there. I noticed its been the hip show to talk about this seaspn, probably cause this happened in the 90s.

7. Mr. Belvedere season 3 episode called Halloween

Mr Belvedere is depressed after eye surgery and the youngest kid in the family Wesley gets old Mr Belvedere in an eye patch and brings him out trick or treating which in turn sends him out on a bit of a bender. Also in the episode the daughter wants to wear a sexy maid costume to a party but her dad wont let her. So her older brother wears the maid costume to the party so they can secretly switch costumes there. Just one of many episodes where the older brother Kevin did a drag scene to show off his legs. ALSO in that episode the dad Bob Ueker is asked to join a sort of Shriners group but they end up being a crazy hooded cult. Which is extra funny cause in later episodes you find he did join the Shriner group after all and they never mention them being a cult. In fact the next time you see the cult members they are friends of the family and all go in drag with the oldest son they can go under cover to catch a purse snatcher.. but that's another episode.

6. Alf season 2 episode called Some enchanted evening.

Alf wants to go trick or treating cause well candy of course. The tanners think its too dangerous for Alf to go out even that he insists everyone will think he is just in a costume and not an actual Alien Life form. Eventually a Halloween party is held at the house and Alf meets an old cat lady. Alf loves cats... sorta. Also in the episode is an appearance of Lewis Arquette the dad of the all those wacky Arquette kids.

Seeing the costumes that appear in all these episodes makes one feel like in the 80s and 90s there was a rule that you couldn't have a Halloween party if there was not one devil, one pirate , one French maid, one little bo peep, one scarecrow and one Dracula. Like it was a rule or something.

5. KnightRider Season 3 episode called Halloween Knight

Michael Knight must investigate the visions of a confused woman. They believe she will be the next victim of a murdered in a gorilla suit. In the episode a man wears one of the silver shamrock pumpkin masks from Halloween 3. I did an whole article on this last year. Just another reason for you to go look through the riotatthemoveis archive.

4. Fall Guy season 4 episode called October 31st

Elvira guests stars as her self as she teams up with Lee Majors and the Fall guy team to break a curse and solve a possible murder in an old castle. Guest cameos of John, David and Keith Carradine. Also Lewis Arquette. Elvira would return the next season in an episode called.. wait for it.. October the 32nd... Yep.

3. Night Court season 3 episode called Halloween Too.

Every season of Night Court got a Halloween episode but this one is suiting for the humorous episode title and for Markie Post (who was in the episode of Fall Guy I just mentioned) wearing an amazingly and awkwardly hot witch costume. She shows up in this costume after Judge Stone has just broken up with his girlfriend who he discovers is an actual witch with magical powers as he believed her magic compromised his position on the bench. Guest cameo by Anne Ramsey as another witch. All the Halloween episodes are but I really like in this one when Quan Lee misunderstands the concept of Trick or Treating and thinks you need to threaten people for candy. Also I just needed an excuse to post this picture of Markie Post.

2 . Diff’rent Strokes Season 7 episode called A Haunting we will go. Arnold and his new step brother Sam (yeah that's a thing if you ever watched the last two season of Diff’rent Strokes) peer pressure them selves into sneaking in to an old haunted house. (similar to the Webster episode as poor little Gary Coleman and Emanuel Lewis would always be compared to each other). What makes this episode gold is when Arnold and Sam break into the haunted house they have detailed replica Ghostbusters costumes on, decades before Strangers Things season 2. We also get a door banging , chandelier shaking haunted house , dusty piano and everything if I remember right and then they show us how they did it. Very cool for an 80s kid like me. Also guest stars the amazing John Astin.

Last but not least...

Punky Brewster season 2 episodes Perils of Punky part one and 2. The cartoon series has an episode of the same name but no relation. This two parter is something if you know me you have heard about a lot. Punky and her pals go camping and meet a native shaman who tells them about a haunted cave, so in part 2 what do they do.. go in it of course. Then shit get surreal. Punkys friends get offed one by one by evil spirits then get turned into severed heads, one that flies and one that is stuck in the rock wall. It all ends with Punky having to battle a giant spider with shades of the original IT movie and has to hack it to death with an axe. Ending in the spirit of native girl waving goodbye in the cave that looks just like Punky as her friends magically come back to life as if it was all a dream... or was it. The episode is to be seen to be believed. My second favorite next to the episode where Punky thinks she killed a man at her restaurant but finds out he is just a narcoleptic with a broken hearing aid. COMEDY!!!!!

There are so many more, feel free to msg me and let me know old tv shows that had wild Halloween episodes that you hold dear.

I need some Count Chocula and a reason to watch some more... hmm maybe some boo berry,... oh man, anyone got an Haunted House pasta or Scarieos?

dang.

[blukrown]

Pride Amongst Siblings

WARNING! This fic contains: attempted roofying/drugging & attempted sexual assualt

If any of these upset you, please do not read!

Also available on AO3

This fic was commissioned by @mrneighbourlove, thank you so much for the support and giving me the chance to write about your character!

"Shit, come back here!" Leere called out to the small figure she was chasing down the busy market streets of Oshmel.

Five minutes after entering the town and she had already gotten lost as well as got her bag stolen. It was rather embarrassing. She might have the thought to shame herself for her naivety if she weren't pelting after the little thief.

Leere had been walking down the crowded streets, map in hand. She had been trying to find her accommodation for the coming evening when a young child had approached her. Clearly a local, the kid offered his help in leading Leere to her destination. She wasn't one to object to a kind offer, especially not when she secretly needed it, so she let the boy lead the way.

Leere had just started thinking about giving the youth a few rupees for his trouble when another kid jumped her. Snatching her rucksack with all of her things and running off, while the first boy vanished into the busy streets.

Although it did take her moment to realise just what had happened, she was soon in hot pursuit of the second child. She might not  be able to punish the bait but at the very least she could recover her things

For how much she was growing to hate the brat, she didn't want to endanger him or other civilians around him by using her magic. She would, unfortunately, have to do this the hard way.

The kid quickly turned out of the busy main streets and ducked into a quiet alleyway. Leere had thought this would give her an advantage with her long legs but the child seemed to have knowledge with the area and still kept a good distance between them.

"Stop! Thief!" Leere called, hoping she might grab anyone's attention. "Get back here dammit!"

The kid kept close to the left side of the alleyway, clearly ready to skid into a turn down a different laneway in the next few paces. But to Leere's great relief, a tall man poked his torso out from the corner, to see what all the commotion was about. And the kid crashed right into him.

Leere restrained a smile as she caught up to the rascal. Catching her breath, she made sure to first snatch her bag back before the little kid could scuttle off.

When Leere turned to thank her unexpected aid, she noticed the stranger seemed unfazed by the collision. He really was also very tall, with at least two heads more height than Leere. Unrecognizable, it wasn't until she looked to the man's face - marked with a wide, excited grin - that she realised who he was.

"Teb?" Leere asked, pleasantly surprised to see her youngest adoptive brother in a place like this.

"Leere!" Tebanam grinned widely, sweeping his older sister into a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" Leere answered, welcoming the embrace.  

"So you were going up to Kahmel as well?" Tebanam said with surprise as he finished his meal. "Don't tell me, you were going after the rumoured treasure in the town's shrine."

Leere let out a chuckle, "I'm guessing you had the same idea?"

"Well yeah," Tebanama nonchalantly nodded. "But I was also going up there for research."

"Oh?" Leere said, pausing the forkful of food she was about to eat. "This is about that distant relative of the Gerudo, right?"

"Yeah, the Garai."

Oshmel, the city Leere and Tebanam currently occupied, was a border city. Just a few minutes by cart from the perimeter of Hyrule, this town was a mix of all cultures. It was a city filled with locals, travellers and full of people from nearly every race in the land. The settlement lived at the summit of a great mountain, one which hides within its craters an old, deserted tribal village, known as Kahmel. Some people believe the people who had occupied the village died by a plague, others by wild animals and others still believed they had been cursed. Either way, no one bothered going up the mountain. After all, nothing was up there accept the sad, abandoned ghost town.

For all the travelling the two of them did, this was their first time meeting on the road. Perhaps it was only a matter of time until Leere would run into Tebanam but it did come at a good time.

About half a year ago, Tebanam and Leere - as well as all their other siblings - had returned to Hyrule castle to celebrate the birth of Covarog's first two children. Leere loved being home with her family, she would stay there forever if she didn't feel the call of adventure.

It had been two years since Tebanam had lost Jazoh - a noble boy taken away from court for being caught having a sexual relationship with the young prince - and Leere and her fellow adopted sister Rinku had only meant to help Tebanam.

For being away from Hyrule for so long, the youngest son of Ganondorf had not seemed to recover from the loss of his partner. The sister's had sought to help Tebanam and comfort him. But at some point, they must've upset him.

Leere could not remember the exact reason but Tebanam had stood up - towering over his elder sisters - and looked Leere right into the eyes and spat, "You're only depressed simply because you want attention! My feelings aren't something I can easily turn off like yours, Leere!"

Rinku, furious at Tebanam's statement and intending to defend her sisters, had countered, "She's only trying to help you, Tebanam! You only travel because you lost your fuck toy! As if that's a good way to cope!"

Tebanam had looked furious, but the pain of hearing his eldest's sister's words cut him deep enough to shut his mouth. He only huffed and stormed out of the room, choosing to leave before he said or heard anything more he may regret.

Leere had left before confronting Tebanam about it. Although she didn't say those things, she still should've at least given him a positive farewell.

However, Tebanam happily talked about his travels, Leere could tell that he did not hold any sort of grudge against her.

"Remember that set of armour I gave papa?" Tebanam asked his pompous smirk wide. "He keeps it on display in his office, y'know." Leaning back in his chair, the half Gerudo man puffed out his chest in pride.

Leere let out a snort, "Not last time I was there. Yours was missing the greaves, remember? So it's an incomplete set." Leere loved teasing he brother and by the pitiful bummed out look on his face, she was looking forward to giving him worse. "Mama likes the golden fan I gave her."

Tebanam snorted, "Yeah but what's the point of a fan if you're not going to use it? Mama's not a shower like Papa either."

That shut Leere right up, not that she minded.

Hyrule castle held the largest collection of armour, antiques and artifacts in the land. All starting with King Ganondorf, the passion for treasure hunting had been passed down to many of his children. Both Leere and Tebanam were both proud competitors of a non-existent competition to see who could bring back the best discovery for their parents. As if her parents could love her any less for not finding a prettier treasure than Tebanam, Leere still could not quite let this immature contest go.

"I have a . . . question for you." Tebanam said, distracting Leere from her walk down memory lane. Leere gave an inquisitive look, which seemed enough for her brother to continue. "You know how you can transform, right?"

Leere frowned, she could almost see the gears in Tebanam's head whirring. "Yeah? What about it?"

"Would you be able to say . . . transform into a man?"

"Well yeah, it's a pretty easy spell actually. Even Mama can do it."

"Although the idea of our dear Mama as a man sounds really funny, that is a subject for a different conversation." Pausing to hear Leere let out a chuckle in bemusement, the brother than continued. "Do you still remember it? As in, can you still do it?"

"Yeah . . . I guess." Leere's eyes then squinted in suspicion. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well . . ."

Having found Tebanam's hotel, they had retreated to his room.

It was rather small, what with the large king-sized bed taking up a large amount of space. But Leere didn't have time to judge Tebanam's choice in accommodation when her brother was hurrying her along.

"Alright," Tebanam said, locking the door so no one could enter. "Now let's see what you can do."

Although still unaware of Tebanam's plan, Leere obeyed her little brother's wishes. With a string of non-Hyrulian words, it only took a few seconds before she disappeared behind smoke - an aftereffect of shape-shifting magic. Once the smoke cleared, Leere spoke.

"Did it - Woah!" Leere began before clutching at her throat. Her light and effeminate voice was now low and gravely. "My voice!"

"No way!" Tebanam said, his face covered with shock and awe. "It worked! I mean, you look exactly the same but . . . But a man!"

Going to the hotel room mirror, Leere was greeted by an adult man in her reflection. Her face was just as pale, eyes just as red and hair just as long. She even still had the beauty spot below the left side of his lip. But there was no mistaking it, she had become a man.

A tuft of brown facial hair covered her chin, a strong jawline and obvious Adam's apple made her look like a normal Hylian man.

"I'm honestly surprised," Leere said as she turned around in front of the mirror. "I haven’t used this spell in years. Not since I was a kid."

Then again, that was when she was young. Where there wasn't really a lot of difference between a prepubescent boy and girl. But looking at herself now, she would honestly not recognise herself.

She could already tell she was a bit taller but only a little, as she compared herself to her mixed-raced younger brother. Leere also felt stronger too, her arm muscles easily bulging out of the shirt she wore.

Now that she mentioned it, her clothes did seem rather tight. Especially around her crotch.

"What the heck?!" Leere shouted at the sight she saw under her pants and underwear.

Tebanam did not seem to feel any shame in joining in and sneaking a peek. And before Leere had the right mind to slap him silly, he was cackling.

"Bahahah!" Tebanam roared, holding his stomach. "I-It's like an acorn! Ahahaha!"

Leere glared at her brother, "Shut it! I'm not a giant Gerudian like you, OK?!"

But nothing seemed to reach Tebanam. He was in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, hunching over as he almost seemed to be in physical pain. Even with Leere - softly - punching him, it took Tebanam a good few minutes to recover.

Wiping his tearing eyes, the young prince sighed. Standing tall, he gave Leere another look over.

"Man, you really are a man, huh? I wouldn't even know it was you if I saw you."

Leere couldn't help but feel proud. Raising an arm and flexing her new muscles. "Are you doubting my magic, little brother?"

Tebanam chuckled, "As if, I know my place."

Leere huffed, "So you should."

"But I've gotta say," Tebanam said, walking a circle around Leere with a hand at his own chin. "You look like the sort of guy I would go after."

"Ew, gross." Leere frowned in disgust.

A look of excitement grew on Tebanam's face. "You know what?" He said excitedly, his eyes wide with excitement. "Let's go out!"

"What?" Leere blanched, "Why?"

"Why not!" His voice filled with enthusiasm. "Let's see how long your spell lasts!"

"How?"

"Let's go to a gay bar!"

"Wha-" Leere began but then shook her head. "No way! They'd definitely know."

"Trust me," Tebanam said, patting his, now, brother on the shoulder. "They won't notice a thing!"

"Wait a second," Leere said, stopping Tebanam in his tracks. Pointing a finger defiantly at her brother, "This was what you were planning from the start!"

"Nu-uh!" Tebanam objected, "I want to . . . test your magic and . . ." He was clearly fumbling for an excuse worthy of his plan but with no success.

Leere crossed her arms over her chest. "Come on, what's going on?"

Tebanam sighed, lifting an arm to ruffle his short, bright orange hair. "Well, I may have, kinda, sort of, got on the bad side of a bartender at the gay bar and got into a fight."

Leere let out a long sigh, shaking her head. "Should I ask?"

"Let's just say that you should never hit on a bartender's sidepiece."

Leere shook her head in disappointment. But this did sound a lot like what her brother would do.

"I'm not going, Teb." Leere said, not helping but sounding sympathetic despite Tebanam's stupidity. "I'm not going to be your bodyguard just so you don't get your ass beaten."

"C'mooooon," Her brother drawled, "Pleeaasee? Have you never wanted to experience what it's like to be a man? Better yet - a gay man? Besides, I'm sure it would be fun!"

Leere pursed her lips and tried to stand for her own convictions. But - for some unknown reason - seeing her fully-grown baby brother plead and implore her made her question her own decision.

Letting out a long exaggerated sigh, Leere rolled her eyes. "Fine! But I'm not the one who's going to save you if you get into any trouble."

On the other side of town, surrounded by brothels, bars and shifty-looking hotels, Oshmel's gay bar was alive with raucous laughter, chatter and music. Men of all ages and races gathered in and around the building. All seeming to be having a great night.

Leere shuffled where she stood at the entrance of the gay bar. She wore a spare pair of Tebanam's old clothes. A bit too big, Leere had made do and created an outfit that suited her new physique.

Leere felt nervous. And she didn't usually get nervous. In circumstances like these, Leere would be excited to go in and have a good time. But with her being under an enchantment, she had a fear that her magic could soon vanish and she knew the many patrons of this male exclusive bar wouldn't be welcome to a woman among them.

Besides, she didn't really know how men, more specifically gay me, flirted. She could use her feminine wiles to make men, and even more women, fall to their knees but she had doubts on her skills as a man.

Luckily, Tebanam - while holding back his clear excitement - comforted her. "You'll be fine, Leer. I promise, if anything happens, we're out."

Leere did not seem convinced, giving her brother a doubtful look.

"Alright, alright." Tebanam said, "I'll pay for your drinks too."

Leere was not one to ignore a free drink, so she grabbed onto Tebanam's wrist and lead the way inside the busy bar.

The gay bar was a nice establishment. With many tables filled with patrons, outside veranda and large dance floor, it was definitely a place Leere would happily go to. The building was dark apart from the candles or torches scattered about, making the mood of the building one of flirtation and mischief. A live band played cheerful yet slow music, a beat perfect to dance to as some patrons were demonstrating.

Going to the bar, Tebanam ordered two of the house's beer. The man behind the bar was quick and settled the two flasks on the bartop for the two siblings to take.

Leere took a hearty sip, welcoming the bitter taste like an old friend, watching over the joyful crowd.

"Hey, is Rukah here?" Tebanam asked the bartender, leaning over to see past the staff behind the bar.

The man shook his head. "No, it's his day off tonight."

Tebanam's said a quick thanks before looking to Leere with relief.

"Let me guess," Leere smiled with bemusement and took another healthy swallow of her drink. "He's the bully you're trying to avoid."

Tebanam nodded, "Trust me, I am not at all sad he isn't here."

Leere's brother then turned back to the bartender a telltale smirk on his lips. He's on the prowl , Leere thought. Not much caring, however.

Both of them finished their first drinks and quickly got a second. Whether that was on Tebanam's tab or the flattered bartender's, Leere didn't know but she was thankful nonetheless.

Just enjoying the amazing vocal acrobatics Tebanam did in flirting with the staff, Leere almost didn't notice a man take the spot on the other side of her at the bar.

"Hey, handsome," The good-looking Hyrulian said with a kind smile. Leaning onto the bartop and looking Leere over.

Tall and decently muscular, Leere would consider him as being a rather attractive man. He had short, blonde hair and soft blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Maybe it was just Leere's paranoia but the man looked shifty. Her suspicions didn't seem enough to think twice on it, however.

"Oh," Leere said outwardly, surprised someone would come up to her so soon after arriving. "Hey yourself." Giving her normal flirtatious smile.

It seemed to work a treat, the man only smiled wider. "I've never seen you around here before. Traveller?"

"Yeah," Leere answered with a nod, finishing the last drops of her beer. "Passing through to Kahmel."

"Kahmel?" The man repeated in surprise. His eyes not restraining from looking Leere over again. "By yourself? You must be stronger than you look."

Leere smiled, knowing well that the assumption was based on her still obvious height difference with the stranger. Only miniscule compared to that of her Gerudo siblings, clearly, it was something the man had to note.

"Trust me, I can handle myself." Leere countered, giving a wink for good measure.

The man let out a chuckle, "Oh? Can you handle another drink, then?"

"Easily."

The man got a bartender's attention, ordered and within a few minutes another pint of beer was in Leere's hand.

With already half of her third beer past her lips, she felt a hand go around her waist. The man only smiled, shuffling closer to where she stood at the bar.

"So tell me," The Hyrulian began, his voice low yet very audible over the throng of the bar. "What's your name?"

"Leere." She said, curious to see the man's reaction to her effeminate name.

He didn't seem to falter, only smiling further. "Well, Leere, I'm Rukah."

The name sounded familiar but Leere just took it to just be that it was a common Hyrulian name. Raising her glass she nodded to the man, "Nice to meet you, Rukah."

Finishing her drink in one final gulp, the hand at her waist tugged her ever closer to Rukah's side. "What are you doing after this?" His blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark lighting of the bar, making goosebumps rise on Leere's forearms.

"Well I'll probably go home with my-" She turned to point to her brother but found he was very clearly occupied. Leaning over the bartop, he had snagged a quick kiss from the bartender who seemed more than happy for another. " . . . Friend." She finished lamely, impressed yet annoyed by how distracted her brother had gotten in the mere minutes after arriving.

Rukah chuckled, clearly seeing why Leere paused, "Well it looks like your friend is preoccupied at the moment."

Just as Rukah spoke, the music in the tavern changed. Although the same upbeat tempo as the last hymn, this one was lead by a flute. Clearly a favourite of the patrons, the dancefloor was soon stuffed with new dancers.

Rukah seemed to have the same idea, turning to Leere after looking at the crowd. "Would you like to dance?"

Leere didn't need to look over to her brother to know he was still engrossed in seducing the staff so she shrugged. "Sure."

Joining the ever growing group of occupants on the dancefloor, Leere easily found her rhythm. Dancing and swaying to the beat of the song, she was a bit too inebriated to care if she was giving herself away by the rather erotic way she danced. Rukah seemed impressed and no one seemed to be planning to make a big deal out of it.

Leere had found her stride in regards to flirting as a man, easily knowing when to give Rukah or one of the customers a suggestive glance, when to graze her hand or rear against someone else's. Overall, she was having a good amount of fun.

Sadly, the song had to change and although many people still stayed to dance to the new tune, most opted to retreat back to their tables or the bar. Rukah was one of them, offering Leere another drink before leading the way out of the thinning crowd.

Leere could not see Tebanam at the bar, perhaps already having escorted that bartender back to his hotel room. Leere did feel hurt but seeing the newest pint in Rukah's hand, she easily pushed such thoughts aside.

Leere lifted the drink to her lips and gulped nearly half of the amber liquid down before realising something was off. There was this tang at the back of her throat, something that really should not be in a normal beer.

Looking to Rukah, the Hyrulian man seemed to be looking over cautiously, as if expecting something to happen.

Shit , Leere thought. Quickly trying to take a step towards the bathroom and away from the stranger. Intending to throw up the contents of that beer, Rukah grabbed onto her wrist as soon as she turned away from him.

"Hey now," He said, putting on a look of concern. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

"B-Bathroom," Leere uttered.

The lights seemed to be going brighter as if someone put fuel to the flames. Her legs soon felt weak, her knees eventually feeling unbalance just by standing still. Something was wrong. Something was in that drink.

"C'mon," Rukah tried to soothe her, reaching out his other hand to take Leere's freed wrist. "Don't you wanna dance a bit more?"

"N-No," Leere weakily shook her head, trying but failing to pull out of the man's grip. "There was . . . There was something in my drink."

The world was beginning to spin, disorientating Leere with even the slightest turn of her head. Whatever was in her drink, it was spreading. Pumped into the bloodstream it made quick work with the alcohol. This wasn't an accident, this was done on purpose and Leere knew just who the culprit was.

Taking a step back again, Leere tried to escape from Rukah's clutches but instead lost her footing. Perhaps due to the sticky floor near the bar or just her now feeble legs, the ground came out from under her.

But two strong hands caught her before she landed on the ground. With what strength Leere had, she looked up.

Tebanam was back and he looked worried. Placing a hand on Leere's forehead, he checked her temperature. "Hey, you ok?"

"N-No," Leere said shakily. "Something was in my-"

"He's fine." Rukah interrupted, taking back Leere's wrist and giving it a soft tug. "We were just thinking about going back to my place."

Tebanam frowned, looking from his weakened sister to the stranger. "I don't think so." Easily grabbing onto the Hyrulian's wrist, he squeezed the shorter man hard enough to recoil from his grapple on Leere, who welcomed the protective arm of her brother around her.

"W-We were having fun!" Rukah stuttered, trying to defend himself out desperation. "He'll be fine, I'll look after him. Why don't you go back to chatting with Tirill?" Nodding to the bar, clearly speaking about the man Tebanam had been flirting with. "You two were getting pretty familiar, it'd be a shame if-"

Rukah paused his rambling to scowl. Looking up, he squinted at Tebanam's face as if recognising him. "Wait just a moment . . . Do I know you?"

Even Leere could feel Tebanam stiffen. His arms squeezing ever so tighter around her shoulders as if to keep her from slipping away.

"No you don’t," Tebanam obviously lied. "I'm just a-"

"Yeah . . ." Rukah interrupted, raising a hand to point at the tall man. "Yeah, I know you alright! You're that prick who went after Rilon!"

"Y-You're wrong, I don't know a Rilon." Tebanam continued, taking a cautious step back.

"Don't you bullshit me!" Rukah angrily shouted, catching bystander's attention. "You were here before! Going after him when you knew he was mine!"

"Well, m-maybe I did," Tebanam admitted, "But I didn't know he was yours."

Leere, perhaps too out of it to truly understand the context of this fight, could not help but spare a thought of bemusement. Seeing her tall half-Gerudo brother almost cowering from the puny Hyrulian that stood in front of him.

"Shut it!" Rukah said, clearly intoxicated and visibly angry. Reaching out he grabbed onto Leere's wrist. So tight that is it made her grunt in discomfort. "Imma take your boyfriend and we'll pretend like this never happened."

"Boyfriend?!" Tebanam said, tone heavy with shock and disgust. "He's my sis-brother!" Leere could feel her younger sibling take a step backwards, trying to make space between them and the Hyrulian. "Now let go of him!"

"No way," Rukah said, shaking his head as he closed the space between them again. "I work here, remember? So you better play nice."

With one strong yank, Leere had slipped from Tebanam's safe embrace into the stranger’s arms. Holding both of her arms behind her back and with Leere's symptoms only worsening, there was no way she would have the strength to free herself.

"I'll repeat myself only one more time." Rukah said, a half-crazed smirk curling his face. "You get out of my club and leave your . . . brother with me."

With all the strength she had left, Leere crouched in her assailant's grip. And before either her brother or her attacker could say a thing, she jumped upwards and slamming the back of her head into Rukah's chin and nose.

Leere felt the arms that had been restraining her loosen and took the needed steps to get back to Tebanam's side. Rukah was on the floor, falling onto his ass from the force of the hit. He let out a pathetic groan, clutching at his face as he wriggled to get back up to his feet.

To Leere's dismay, three men separated from the onlooking crowd to join Rukah by his side. Clearly not there to negotiate.

Leere swore under her breath. Knowing her condition, she would only be able to fight off one of the newcomers. But Leere then felt the hand that held her close squeeze her. Tebanam was still with her and clearly, he'd be able to handle the rest of the rabble.

The newcomers were the first to move in. All at once, all three lept to separate the siblings. Leere kicked one in the shin, causing the man to topple. Tebanam used his large forearms to careen across and smack the other two away.

In the ensuing chaos, Leere quickly had her opponent groaning from a broken bone and Tebanam had left the other two men unconscious.

Thankfully, that seemed to be the only people who were planning to side with the now bleeding Rukah. So before any more people got any ideas, the siblings quickly pushed through the onlooking crowd and left the bar in a run.

The night sky outside of Oshmel was beautiful. Without the lights of the city brightening the heavens, the navy blue was dotted by bright stars. It was also silent apart from the soft running of the nearby river flowing through the grasslands and the soft chirping of local insects.

Too bad that was ruined by Leere heaving up the inside of her stomach into the river. Trying as best she could to get rid of any last remnants of whatever Rukah had slipped into her drink. The only comfort being the soft, comforting pat of her little brother against her hunched back.

With her stomach feeling empty and throat sore from choking, Leere laid down in the grass to rest and to stop her head from spinning.

"You feeling better?" Tebanam inquired, sitting next to her and looking over the meadow-covered scape.

"Not a lot," Leere muttered and lifted her had to squeeze it into a fist. "But my energy is coming back."

"Good," Tebanam sighed in relief. "I'm sorry, by the way. I really should've kept an eye on you."

"Yeah, you should've." Leere said dryly but then nudging Tebanam from where she lay to tell him she was joking. "But it's not your fault. It's that son of a bitch Rukah who should by saying sorry."

Tebanam let out an understanding grunt but didn't seem to quite like he had understood that he had been forgiven. Guilt still twinkled in his orange eyes as a frown played at his brow.

"Listen . . . I'm sorry for what I had said. The last time we saw each other, I mean." Tebanam muttered, pulling a blade of grass from the stem to fiddle with it in his fingers. "It was uncalled for."

Leere shrugged, sitting up to watch her little brother twist and tug at the leaf. "It's fine. Me and Rinku weren't really helping things. I don't really know where it all came from but . . . we really shouldn't have ended it like that."

Tebanam nodded, the blade of grass now tatters in his lap. "Yeah . . . me neither."

Nudging her baby brother again, Leere smiled to him. "As if I could ever hold a grudge against you, Teb."

Tebanam could only smile, reassurance being all he needed to let him relax where he sat. "We better get going then." The brother said before getting to his feet. "You can stay in my room tonight."

Leere stood up on her feet but soon felt her knees shake under the pressure of holding herself upwards. Tebanam seemed to see her dilemma and smiled.

"C'mon," He said, crouching and offering his back for her to climb onto. "I'll carry you."

Leere restrained a smile and obeyed, quickly getting into Tebanam's back. She was having a strong sense of nostalgia. They had used to do this when they were kids, only it had been the other way around. Tebanam sobbing from a grazed knee and Leere telling him off for not being careful.

"Goddesses, you're heavy." Tebanam groaned as he steadied himself.

Leere playfully hit her brother, "That's no way to talk to a girl." "But your not a girl," Tebanam retorted, smirking at Leere's still transformed appearance.

"Oh yeah!" The sister gasped, quickly muttering the needed incantation under her breath. She soon felt lighter, her clothes loosening and her chest quickly weighing her down. "Better?"

"Much so," Tebanam answered mid-chuckle.

For that one night, the town of Oshwel was treated to the sound of adult siblings laughter as the two of them, with only one trail of footsteps, ran down the empty streets.

This fic is based on the Zelgan au (and Rinku) by @figmentforms Tebanam is created by @s-kinnaly Leere is created by @mrneighbourlove Towns and other minor characters are by me I highly recommend you look at their content on this to have a better understanding of the story

[the-jade-cross]

Knight of the Forest - Chapter IV

“Absolutely not!” Lillia objected. “I will not be wearing a cinch or a corset of any kind!”

“But my lady,” the poor maid tried pleading with the 16-year-old girl who had not work a cinch or corset in her life. “King Joffrey has announced his new betrothal and his marriage coming up in a few months and people from all over Westeros will be attending the wedding. You know your parents would want you to look your best.”

Lillia’s shoulders slumped in sadness and the cherry color of her cheeks faded. “Father has been dead for almost five years Mary…and Mother… let’s just say she never held love for me… and I doubt she held love for Robin. She just fawned over him because he was a son… let’s just say she was disappointed that her son was girly, and her daughter was like a boy.”

Mary nodded sadly, knowing full well that it had only been a few weeks since Lillia had received word of her mother’s act of suicide and while it had inflicted pain and misery in the young girl, the pain was not as much as some would deem since the only motherly love Lillia ever felt in her life was from Mayaka Tyrell.

“My lady… it will be a good 5 months before the wedding. The houses of Marbrand, Rowan, Stokeworth, Martell, Redwyne and the Prince of the Red Flower Vale will be attending the wedding. If you do not wish to wear anything appropriate for the time being, please consider it for the wedding.” Mary pleaded. “Not for me but for yourself. If Cersei Lannister does not like what you are wearing, your stay here could be painful.”

“The only reason I haven’t been assaulted, attacked, thrown out or poisoned is because Tommen is my friend and Ser Jaime has taken on responsibilities of my guardian now that my parents are dead,” Lillia pointed out as she finally selected a simple cream dress with a silver ribbon around the waist with long sleeves and a white underdress to hide her lower arms and her ankles. “Did you hear anything about who Joffrey will be wed to?”

Mary shook her head, “I thought he was to be married to Lady Sansa Stark.”

Lillia shrugged, “That was how it was for a while, but Sansa wouldn’t be sitting in the garden grinning from ear to ear if that was the truth. I have a feeling Joffrey’s lustful, evil eye has landed upon another poor soul and he has discarded Sansa. Personally, I am glad because he would have destroyed what little life is left in Sansa… but now I feel bad for whoever will be occupying the other side of his bed.”

Mary giggled slightly as she helped Lillia slip into her dress and then proceeded to gather a few strands of Lillia’s long golden curls and pull them back to the back of her head. Lillia, despite the fact that she was still the type to climb trees and joust with Ser Jaime and Tommen, had decided to not cut her hair and now the long golden curls fell to her round backside and not only drew the attention of many of the men in the castle but also the annoyance of Cersei Lannister who already hated the fact that Sansa was a lovely girl in her own home and now with a second lovely girl (not to mention that previously Evelyn Stark walked the halls of Kings Landing).

“Well,” Lillia chirped, taking up the valerian necklace that Jaime had procured for her, she placed it around her neck so that it rested against her slightly tanned, freckled skin and decided to lose any other jewelry, “I am going on a walk and hopefully Sansa will be able to tell me who the lucky bastard is.”

When Lillia finally located Sansa, who had departed from the gardens and had climbed to stand upon the battlements, the girl was looking down upon the cavalry that was arriving but sadly, due to Sansa’s slightly taller height and Lillia’s lack thereof, Lillia was unable to tell whose calvary it was.

“So… I heard about Joffrey’s marriage,” Lillia said as she tried to stand on her tiptoes to see over the battlements but failed miserably. “But by the smile on your face and the color returning to your cheeks, I am guessing it is not to you.”

Sansa turned and beamed at the girl. She had not gotten to know Lillia incredibly well like Evelyn had when they visited Highgarden but in the past months that the two have been in Kings Landing, the two had found each other’s silent company very enjoyable.

“Renly Baratheon has died, and his wife is left a widow. They aided Joffrey in the War of Blackwater and as thanks for their involvement, Joffrey agreed to marry her,” Sansa replied, her shoulders relaxing in relief.

“And who are the poor souls?” Lillia inquired, grabbing at the battlement railing in the hopes of heaving herself high enough to make out a flag.

Sansa chuckled at the petite girl’s struggles. “Margaery Tyrell.”

Lillia had just succeeded in lifting herself almost all the way onto the top of the battlement when she dropped down, almost twisting her ankle but luckily saved herself before staring at Sansa with a gaping mouth, “Say that again?”

“Margaery Tyrell,” Sansa replied, confused. “She is the one to wed Joffrey. Why?”

When Sansa saw Lillia’s face go slightly pale and then a bright crimson, hope and excitement in her eyes, she caught on slightly, “Lillia? Do you know them?”

Lillia grinned widely and grabbed Sansa’s hands, “I grew up with them at Highgarden! I cannot believe it! I haven’t seen Margaery in years! And Willas and Garlan and….Loras…”

“I do not believe Willas and Garlan are here,” Sansa replied. “It was just Mace Tyrell, Margaery and Loras. Loras helped in the fight and when Joffrey asked him what he desired in payment, Loras requested Margaery wed Joffrey. I owe them everything! If they had not suggested it to Joffrey, I would be the one wedding him!”

Lillia’s face paled, “So…. Loras…. Is here…”

Sansa nodded before frowning, “Lillia… are you alright?”

The girl hastily reached down and grabbed the bottom of her skirt before heading off, “I’ll tell you later!”

Sansa had a hard time keeping up with the fast footed girl as they rushed to the Great Hall. When she finally caught up with Lillia, the girl was peeking around one of the large pillars, looking at the crowd of Tyrell men who were feasting and drinking after their long journey.

“Why are you hiding?” the red head inquired.

“I want to see Margaery but not Loras…. Let’s just say we parted on not so good terms a few years back.”

Sansa smiled in understanding before pointing out the youngest Tyrell girl, “There she is, with Joffrey.”

Lillia spied the girl and quickly made her way through the crowd, leaving Sansa to remain hidden behind the pillar, the red head not wanting to encounter the king.

When Lillia came upon Joffrey and Margaery, she had to stare in wonder at Margaery. There was a time with the girl had been the same height as Margaery who had a few years on her but now, Margaery was a good few inches taller with slightly shorter auburn hair than Lillia but had grown with matured features and a beautiful face and elegant posture.

“Margie?” Lillia said softly, not wanting to interrupt since Joffrey was boasting loudly to the girl who pretended to be listening.

Margaery turned her head and immediately her eyes widened in joy at the sight of the girl before she rushed over to her, drawing Lillia into a tight hug.

“LILS! I cannot believe it! It is you!” She cried, pulling away to get a good look at the girl. “I never forgave father for sending you and Maya away. Oh, it is so good to see you! You have grown up! And Maya, have you seen her? Do you know where she is?”

Lillia giggled at Margaery’s many questions, “I’m so happy to see you too! Out of the two of us you definitely grew up right. And yes, I have spoken with Maya. I have not been able to see her personally, but she promised she would visit soon and with you here and your marriage to King Joffrey, I am sure you will see her.”

As the two girls chatted like two hens, a pair of blue eyes watched them from afar. Loras had been drinking and laughing with some of the men when he had spied his sister having a joyful heart attack and almost run over a petite, blond haired girl before the two had entered that state of girl chatter that Loras often deemed dangerous and scary.

However, he found his eyes drawn to the girl. She was a petite thing and standing next to Margaery who was almost the same height as Loras, the girl only reached Margaery’s shoulder. Her long golden hair was curly and fell to her hips that swayed just right. Loras was never interested in girls and had found himself drawn to men but this girl… made him forget all of that in an instant.

From what he could see from his side view of her face was that she was rosy with a little more plumpness than Margaery who was perfectly slender and elegant. The blond girl wore a simple cream dress that accented her curvy hips and perfectly rounded chest and the paleness of the dress brought out the rose of her cheeks and the freckles upon her skin that was slightly darker than Margaery’s pale complexion.

Loras found himself striding over to the two and greeting his sister, only for the strange girl to freeze before slowly turning around, green eyes wide and Loras didn’t have to ask to know exactly who the girl was.

“Loras…” The girl whispered, almost shocked with her green eyes reflecting a feeling Loras couldn’t distinguish.

“Lillia!”

(The past couple of chapters have been set roughly in season 1-3. However, for the rest of Part 1, it will be set in season 4:))

***************

Lillia’s eyes widened as round as the giant water lilacs that grew in the garden of Kings Landing when her eyes locked with the all too familiar and yet unfamiliar Loras Tyrell. It had been a good couple of years since she saw him and the last time she did, they had been nothing but children but now… the Loras standing before her was a man… a grown man with curly dirty blond locks that fell almost to his shoulders, thin quirked lips, straight nose, stormy grey eyes framed by dark, thick lashes and the just slightly cleft chin.

He wore a simple dark grey doublet over a dark green shirt, the high collar of the doublet accenting his sharp cheekbones. His eyes were trained on her and Lillia fought the deep urge to fidget with her blond curls so instead she gripped a pinch of her skirt in her hands discreetly and began to knead it between her thumb and pointer finger to keep from blushing or practically breaking down in tears.

“Loras…” the girl managed to choke out, not surprised at how soft and almost shy her voice sounded.

Lillia saw Loras’s deep, calculating orbs scan her up and down before observing each corner of her face as if trying to memorize every detail though she wondered why it took him so long since due to her “couple of goats too thick” figure according to Cersei Lannister, her face and figure did not require that much attention since she lacked the sharp features someone like Cersei would possess.

“It…” Loras said, smile still evident on his face and his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “its really great to see you again.”

Lillia beamed at him and Loras felt his heart flutter at the rosy way her cheeks flushed as she smiled.

“You too,” she said, voice still gentle but with a slight bubbly excitement edge.

Margaery smirked knowingly at her brother and best friend before speaking, “I was just telling Lillia that I hope we see Maya while we are here.”

Loras tore his eyes from the blond, “Oh, I almost forgot! You haven’t seen Maya since you’ve been here?” he immediately asked of Lillia, turning his attention back to her.

Lillia shook her head, gold curls bouncing, “No. I have not seen her since I left Highgarden.”

This wasn’t a lie since she had only been communicating with Maya via the pinnacle which was just their spirits talking, not actually seeing each other face to face and she was not about to reveal to Loras who, she knew for a fact was protective of his sisters and an avid swordsman, that his big sister was living in a brothel and Lillia could talk to her because of her strange ability to control earth and plants. It was crazy enough explaining it to Evelyn, Maya and Nanteza without showing them. She couldn’t even tell Jaime because she would then have to tell him everything including the fact that his wife was alive, in the wild and some dragon mother with fire powers.

“There you are Lills,” a familiar voice said and Lillia sighed at having been rescued before her heart exploded.

“Ser Jaime!” Lillia chirped joyfully, turning her eyes from Loras and over to Jaime who had a wickedly smug look on his face.

“Ser Jaime,” Margaery greeted, “lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Jaime bowed to the Tyrell, “My Lady. Ser Loras.” he greeted.

Loras bit back a growl when he saw Lillia inch closer to Jaime as if seeking out protection.

“You are wed to Evelyn stark is that correct?” Margaery inquired.

Jaime nodded, “That is so. I have not seen her in almost two years.”

Margaery gave him a sad smile, “I am sure Evelyn is well. I remember meeting her at my sister’s name day and if Eve is anything like she was then, she is safe and well.”

Jaime smiled gratefully at the kind and encouraging words from his soon to be in-law but Loras ground his teeth. He watched as Jaime lent down and whispered to Lillia just loud enough for the Tyrells to hear.

“Tommen wanted to know if you would dance with him tonight.”

Lillia chuckled and snorted in the process, making Margaery giggle and Loras and Jaime smile at her unladylike action.

“It seems I am doomed to be Tommen’s dance partner until he learns the steps. Fear not though, I coated my shoes with iron.”

Jaime chuckled and planted a fond kiss in the girl’s blond hair. Anyone could see that the love between the two was like father and daughter but to Loras, it was not like that but much more extreme.

“It must be difficult,” Loras said to Jaime, trying to keep his voice calm, “To have lived two years without the comforts of a wife.”

Jaime saw the way Loras’s eyes practically burned green with jealousy as they drifted back to Lilli and he caught on to the root of the boy’s comment. Pretending he hadn’t heard, Jaime spoke back.

“I heard that you remained in your sister’s cap while she was married to Stannis. I suppose you and your brother in law were close?”

Lillia’s jaw dropped, having heard the rumors that Stannis Baratheon’s wife had been left a virgin due to the king’s lust for a certain knight but she hadn’t realized it was…. Oh gosh, that explained many things!

Margaery pretended to be vastly intrigued by her wine and Loras’s jaw tensed as he and Jaime stared each other down. When Lillia touched Jaime’s arm to snap him out of it, Loras’s eyes turned to the girl and was shocked to find the light and color in her face gone, replaced by misery and pain.

“Will you excuse us?” Jaime asked, sensing Lillia’s desire to depart and when Loras made to speak to Lillia, a single scowl from Jaime shut him up.

Once Jaime had escorted Lillia to one side of the hall and fetched her a glass of water, Lillia collected herself.

“Why did you say those things to him?” She asked Jaime, “He has done nothing to you and yet you treated him like he was your childhood bully.”

Jaime sighed, “You love him Lills. I can see it as plainly as you have a nose upon your face. But he doesn’t see it because he is a foot, an idiot and most definitely interested in men. I will not have him treat you all friendly and sweet and lead you to believe he is in love with you, only for him to break your heart. You are too good to have to experience a broken heart.”

“I know!” Lillia snapped before her voice became soft, “I know he doesn’t love me and never will. That was made clear to me long ago.”

Jaime let out a breath before gathering the girl into a hug, well aware that Loras was glaring at him from across the room. If only the young fool knew that five months prior, Jaime had named Lillia his ward. Mostly to keep Cersei from forcing the girl into an evil marriage since if a girl is claimed as a ward, whoever her guardian is cannot lay sexual hands on her and is the only who can determine the ward’s husband.

“Lillia Arryn?” a girl’s voice squealed.

Lillia pulled away from Jaime and almost fainted when she recognized the tanned skin, big dark eyes, plump smooth lips, petite slender figure and brown hair immediately.

“Nanteza!?” The Dornish girl rushed into Lillia’s arms and began to ramble as a smiling Jaime left to give the two some privacy.

“I cannot believe I’m seeing you right now!” Nanteza squealed. “When uncle Oberyn told me we were coming to Kings Landing, I never thought I would actually get to see you!”

Lillia beamed, “You are definitely a sight for sore eyes!” the blond exclaimed. “Where is your uncle?”

Nanteza smirked mischievously, “He dropped by the brothel right when we landed, and you’ll never believe who he met!”

Lillia frowned before she realized the truth and her eyes rounded, “Maya!?”

Nanteza nodded, “OF course the dim wit didn’t recognize her, but I went with the guards to bring his trunks to the brothel and I saw her! She wears a mask and surprisingly modest brothel clothes. She keeps her hair covered but there is no mistaking those eyes.”

“Oh this is just getting better,” Lillia squealed before her face went serious, “But Nan… you do realize that this is the opportunity we have been hoping for. We need to get Maya out of that brothel as soon as we can and make up a reliable story to hide the truth about you know what.”

Nanteza nodded. This was going to be interesting.

[writersrealmbts]

Frosted Glass: Part 2

Description: Yoongi is in love with the princess of another land, and he’s given the opportunity to court her, with the help of his brothers. You are the princess of the country south of the frozen kingdom, but you’ve gotten a deadly disease and your only home is to venture and live in the icy north. Will Yoongi be able to win your hand with the help of his brothers?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 02/01/2020

Tags: Yoongi x reader, Prince!Yoong, Prince!Jaebum, Prince!Yesung, Prince!Yeonjun, Prince!Hwall, Frost Prince, Jack Frost! Yoongi

?: 1,966 words

A/N: Second part posted as my soul leaves my bodies and winter semester slump sets in.

You stood tall, despite feeling like you were about to drop dead. You had no choice.

“Presenting Princess Y/n, second daughter of the kingdom of Cierova,” The man announcing you to the royal family of Godeuleum continued to drone on and on about your lineage.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. They knew who you were. They had invited you. You just wanted to shut his mouth and make this supposedly essential greeting go more quickly. You wanted to lay down. The cold felt amazing, but the journey had exhausted you and you had been ill for quite some time now.

“We welcome you, Princess, we were sorry to hear of your illness. I’ve had our healers prepare a room for you to recover in before we discuss treaties,” Crown Prince Yesung said the moment the man stopped to draw breath. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. Jisoo will lead you to your room directly and my brothers and father will greet you when you are recovered and ready to meet them.” He had a soft smile that was kind as he gestured toward a maid.

You curtsied, but lost your balance.

“Careful,” A different voice said, catching your arms and supporting you with hands so cold you could feel it through the sleeves of your dress.

You closed your eyes, feeling dizzy, but when you opened them you were looking at dark blue silk, embroidered with black. Pale hands carefully gripping your arms and holding you steady, long fingers that looked oddly attractive.

You managed to look up at the face of the one who assisted you.

He was breathtaking.

You shook your head, trying to clear the delirious thoughts, but caught a glimpse of the crown on his head. “I apologize, I think…”

He released one arm, and pressed his icy hand to your forehead. “Your fever has risen again. Jisoo, get her to her room. I’ll send the healers directly.”

“Yes, Prince Yoongi,” The maid that must have been Jisoo said, curtsying to him before his older brother. She came and supported you as he carefully released your arms. “This way, Princess.”

You let her lead you away, glancing back at the icy prince who had caught you, and his brother. There was something almost familiar about him.

Not that you saw much of anyone for the next few days, too busy getting treated, feeling more alive as you limbs went numb from cold than you had in the past two months since you’d contracted that confounding illness. It gave you time to adjust, really. Time to come to terms with the fact that you would most likely spend the rest of your life here, married to one of the princes. You knew it wouldn’t be the eldest, Yesung, because he was recently betrothed to some princess from an even icier kingdom than Godeumleum—Princess Eira. But the king had three other sons of marriageable age, though you knew the one was on the much younger edge of being old enough to marry. And then there was the youngest son, who was apparently away at school.

You found yourself at the window one morning after the fever broke, looking out, but then noticing the designs in the frost on the pains.

You grinned and carefully examined it. You hadn’t seen the designs of your frost-friend in a long time. Not since that morning a while back, when the design had been incomplete and you’d been unable to keep yourself standing. You hadn’t been able to check the windows since, too ill. You were honestly surprised you were even able to stand upright on your own while initially being welcomed to the kingdom by Prince Yesung.

Your frost friend had drawn flowers and trees, a little frost landscape. You sighed happily, glad that whoever it was hadn’t completely abandoned you anyway. It made sense that they’d be here as well, since this was the kingdom of all things cold. The Kingdom of Old Man Winter and his Frost Princes, of Ice Princesses from the highest and coldest of mountains, and snow during all seasons of the year.

It was probably a good thing you liked winter as much as you did. You learned how to skate as a child, and had continued practicing as you grew. You’d helped the children of the capitol city make snowmen, and you frequently took your horse for a brief canter through the winter woods. You conversed with ice fishermen. Then you would go home and curl up with your furs next to the hearth fire, drinking tea and hoping all of the townsfolk were warm through the night. You didn’t have power, or access to any sort of money—your mother had been making all of the purchases for you—and the townsfolk knew it. They knew you couldn’t help them as you would like when you would bring the children food you had pilfered from the castle kitchens to try and help those you knew were struggling. They knew when you would “lose” a scarf that you had wrapped around a child that looked too cold, or a hat that you had shoved onto the head of a maiden that looked chilled to the bone.

You were always warmly welcomed in the village. As the youngest of six you were left much to your own devices, frequently absconding to the towns and villages to check their welfare.

But now, marrying one of the princess of this kingdom would be the best way you could aid your own kingdom. It would result in better trade agreements, ease travel through the mountain regions, and you wouldn’t be a burden to your kingdom’s finances any longer.

You dressed in one of your favorite gowns with the help of the maids, then exited your room for the first time in a week. You were to dine with the royal family, and the dress was more than appropriate, however you started doubting your choice as you noticed most people wearing clothes in blues, purples, whites, blacks, browns, and some greens—meanwhile you stood out in your pale pink gown. It wasn’t even that bright, and yet you felt as though you were standing out in such a terrible way.

“Y/n?”

You looked toward the voice, seeing another woman with a delicate tiara on her head, pale as snow.

She dropped a slight curtsy and you mimicked it, shaking a little. “It is a pleasure to meet you, I am Eira, of the Ice Mountains. It is good to see you are well, and we are happy you are to join us this evening. Shall we walk to the hall together?”

You nodded, smiling a little and taking her arm. “Sorry, I am still a little shaky on my own feet.”

“Of course you are, you have been so very ill. I am so sorry. That must have been hard, especially so far from family. But you look wonderful, and that dress is astounding on you. An excellent choice,” She said.

You wondered if she was buttering you up. Nobody was this nice.

“We should have lunch together, the family usually have duties that go through midday meals, but I could use the company. I am so accustomed to being surrounded by the women of the mountains all the time and here I am surrounded by men, but now that you are here, perhaps we can find some sort of common ground over a meal together?” She looked at you with such genuine friendliness that you knew that she was being honest. About everything. Her compliments, her invitation, everything. It reminded you of something one of your childhood friends used to tell you, that only black ice knew how to lie.

“I think that sounds lovely, I could bring my embroidery,” You replied, smiling back and feeling a little better.

She visibly brightened, her smile becoming dazzling. “Oh! Yes, that would be excellent! I could work on lace and you could embroider and we could just enjoy one another’s company! Oh, I am so glad to have another woman here.”

You giggled, squeezing her arm. “I can tell.”

“Oh! Yeonjun! Have you met Princess Y/n?” Eira called to a young man that was talking to a guard.

He looked over and smiled, bowing as you curtsied. “I have not, but it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. My father is eager to meet you at last.”

You curtsied again, feeling a little shy at the thought of meeting the king. You’d heard so many legends about him, and you wondered how many were true.

Yeonjun offered both of you his arms, and you both took one, allowing him to escort both of you in. You could tell that he was too young for you, kind and definitely would be a sweet brother, but altogether too young. Still, his kindness warmed you.

The King stood to greet you, gesturing for you to take a seat right away. “I would hate to keep you on your feet, I know you are still recovering. We are mightily pleased to have you here with us, Princess. You are most welcome. It’s high time that a treaty came about between our two countries, seeing as you’re our only neighbors.”

“I believe both of our kingdoms could greatly benefit from an alliance as well,” You agreed quietly. “I am happy to be here, and thank you for your hospitality. Without it, I fear I would have been much worse.”

“Someday that blasted disease will be cured, but we’re glad we were able to help you so quickly. You have met my eldest son, Yesung, and my second youngest, Yeonjun, but may I introduce my second eldest son, Yoongi, and my third eldest, Jaebum, and my youngest, Hyunjoon.”

You dipped your head since the king had been quite insistent on you sitting. “A pleasure, gentleman.”

“And you’ve met Princess Eira.”

You smiled toward the woman, nodding. “We have met, yes.”

She grinned back at you from beside Prince Yesung. “She has charming manners, my king. I approve of her very much.” She sat as Yesung pulled her chair for her.

“I believe there are very few of whom you do not approve, my dear,” Yesung said, the affection palpable in his voice as he gently pushed her chair in once more. He sat beside her, the King on his other side.

Yoongi sat next, then Jaebum, then the youngest two seemed to sit at the same time. You were across from Prince Yesung, but Yoongi sat beside you.

The youngest started telling the King about some of his activities from school and you glanced at Yoongi beside you.

“I was unable to thank you for catching me when I first arrived,” You said softly, knowing you were allowed to have your own conversations since Jaebum, Eira, and Yesung were chatting with each other.

He shook his head slightly. “You should have been shown directly to a room to recover. You are feeling better?”

You nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

He smiled softly, just barely, but it felt strangely warm for a frost prince. “Good. Once you’re fully recovered, I could show you the town.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” You thought it strange that the one you’d heard had the coldest demeanor was so…friendly? Maybe they had it wrong.

Yeonjun caught your attention, striking up a conversation where you told him about summer activities in response to his curiosity about what one did in “extreme” heat.

You were very aware of the presence beside you, watching you casually, listening. It felt…so familiar. Again. But you couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but it excited you.

–

Previous.  Next.

Masterlist.  Yoongi Masterpost.

Tagging: @alex–awesome–22​  @bryvada​  @missmoxxiesworld​  @knjhe​ @agustdgeniuslab​ 

(Please remember to comment on the Taglist masterpost if you want to be tagged)

[forgcdstrength]

Ana Jarvis

FACE-CLAIM: Lotte Verbeek

STATUS: semi-active

ORIENTATION: panromantic bisexual

BIOGRAPHY:

Anastasia Sarah Jarvis (nee Hajnal) is the wife of the Stark family butler, Edwin Jarvis. She’s also a Jew, born June 26, 1914, and raised in Budapest, Hungary.

She’s the second of four siblings. Her older brother, Izsak, was two years older than her, her sister, Naomi, was a mere eleven months younger than her, and her little brother, Jakob, was three years her junior.

By and large, her memories of her siblings are only good ones.

Hot-tempered, loud-mouthed Izsak made for a wonderful big brother - outside of Edwin, perhaps, he’s the most overprotective person she’s ever known. Though the war brought out a terrible side of him that left him wretchedly angry at the world, the worst he ever did to his siblings was tease them. Naomi - sweet, quiet Naomi - was Ana’s best friend until the day Ana left Hungary. She was the perfect listening ear for Ana’s talkativeness. For a few wonderful years, Naomi was married with children, and Ana’s still certain there’s never been a better mother. And then there was Jakob… The baby of the family, if Izsak was a tease, then Jakob was an absolute trickster. The nearly spoiled youngest had lived his entire life with an ornery light in his eyes that never dimmed even as he approached twenty-five years old.

That was a birthday he would never reach. Although Ana was able to flee Hungary the week before with Edwin, her entire family - save for her father, who had already died in 1935 - was gunned down in 1941.

1941 was a year of great change worldwide, anyway, but Ana’s life was completely flipped inside out. Her life of relative ease having already been misplaced in 1938 by anti-Semite laws, by 1941, her entire family was sharing one side of an inner-city duplex. Mama, Ana, Jakob, Izsak, his wife and son, Naomi, and her husband and three children - for over three wonderfully-crowded years they shared a home.

Then 1941, when “the war broke out.“ Jews were being murdered, and as those doing the slaughtering came ever closer to the Hajnal family, Ana met a general’s chivalrous, British aide. With perhaps the best and worst timing in history, they fell in love - despite everything that should’ve kept them apart - within the space of three weeks. In a desperate bid to keep her, at least, alive, he offered to get her out of Hungary, and to marry her. At the urging of her soon-to-die family, she agreed. Which set off a terrifying, dizzying chain of events. Her beloved near-stranger of a husband was almost hung in the midst of it all, and only with the help of wealthy genius Howard Stark did he - and Ana, in a way, truly - survive.

It was only once life had twisted around one more time - with a relocation to America and Edwin becoming Mr. Stark’s butler - that Ana was able to begin to feel somewhat settled. She began to really get to know her husband… and she found herself falling more in love every day.

Years passed, and nothing changed much - then Ana began to more and more often hear stories of a woman Edwin called “Miss Carter…"

Ana herself is abundantly caring and eternally optimistic - which is harder sometimes than others - and artistic. Her first love was painting and drawing - any way she can find to fill a blank space with color, really. When she was in her early twenties, she discovered a love for dancing, as well.

VERSES:

CANON:

LOS ANGELES LIGHT: Agent Carter season two, or anything taking place in LA. (main verse)

INTO THE MELTING POT: Anything taking place pre-season two, including pre-series and Agent Carter season one.

A BEACON OF LIGHT: Anything taking place during or after SHIELD’s formation.

STILL BURNING BRIGHT: modern day MCU verse with elderly Ana, who’s still alive and at herself in mind if not necessarily always physically. (no icons available)

ROAD LESS TRAVELED: any greatly-canon-divergent threads or AUs. (can be combined with any verse)

STRENGTH IN NUMBERS: any polyamorous relationships. (can be combined with any verse; please mention OOC if you’d like to do something in this verse)

AUS:

SYNTHETIC LIGHTS: modern AU verse where Ana’s still in her thirties. She works as the housekeeper at Stark and Avengers Towers, and helps Pepper and the AI JARVIS keep things sane on the home-front.

LOVING AND GIVING: Ana became FRIDAY AU (no, really, trust me here; more information HERE)

A DIMMED LIGHT: Black Widow AU (as much a canon-divergent background as an actual AU)

SO MANY WAYS TO BE: (Descendants) co-head housekeeper at the Beast’s castle, working alongside Ms. Potts

EVER EVER AFTER: (Fairytale) palace seamstress

BORROWED BABIES: (Foster Care) foster mom

I SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I’M UP TO NO GOOD: (Harry Potter) Gryffindor sixth-year

ALTERNATIVELY     1902: (Victorian) housekeeper

GROW UP WITH THE LAND: (Wild West) runs a general store

BOLDLY GO: (Star Trek) mess hall cook

Starter Call

[alj4890]

Love Prompt

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) with the prompt of scar worship as requested by Anonymous.

(Thomas x Amanda) in a short taken from And Then I Met You

A/N going further in the future for this pair. Their twins are around three or fours years old, while Kathleen is eight years old.

@lxaah11​ ​​   @alleksa16​ ​​   @penguininapinktuxedo​ ​​   @blackcoffee85​ ​​   @stopforamoment​ ​​     @hopefulmoonobject​ ​​     @krsnlove​ ​​     @annekebbphotography​ ​​        @hopelessromantic1352​ ​​   . @sunflowergirl05​ ​​   @desireepow-1986​ ​​  @greywitchyshots​ ​​   @lilyoffandoms​  @moodyvalentinestories​ ​​  @emceesynonymroll​ ​​   @my-heart-beats-for-ya​ ​ @aworldoffandoms​ ​   @ab1901​ ​     @lolablackwrites​ ​     @flyawayboo​ ​   @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ ​   . @trappedinfandoms​ ​   @kate-mckenzie​ ​

Masterlist

Mother of Ducks

"I can build it." Thomas folded his arms, attempting to keep his jealousy at bay.

For some reason his wife and children were in states of laughter (his beloved) or in surprise (his offspring) at his announcement that he could build a tree house of some sort.

Just because they continued to brag on the one Drake had constructed for his family in the trees, (it is ridiculous that he built an actual cabin up there!) it did not mean that that was the reason Thomas so readily offered his nonexistent carpentry skills for the enjoyment of his own family.

"Thomas," Amanda tried to smother her laughter at the thought, "there are numerous companies we can call to construct some type of playhouse for the children."

Kathleen nodded. "Daddy, Uncle Maxwell had one build a spaceship for Xavier and Mia. You don't have to--"

"You can build stuff?" Ian interrupted, reaching up for his father to pick him up. "I knew it."

His twin hurried over too and held her arms up. "Daddy can build anything." Elizabeth rested her head on Thomas's shoulder when he lifted her up in his other arm. "Can't you?"

At least two of his family members believed in his ability. "I can." He stated. "We will decide what type of tree house--"

"There aren't any suitable trees for one around St Orella." Amanda pointed out.

He cast a frustrated glance at her. "Then a playhouse." He set the twins down. "We will decide how to design it."

Hudson cleared his throat. "Forgive me your graces, my ladies, milord; Lady Nadia is on the phone."

"Thank you Hudson." Amanda shook her head at Thomas, "Don't decide anything until I return."

Thomas waited until she had left the room before sitting down with their children. "Now then. What type of playhouse would you like?"

"A castle!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"A pirate ship!" Ian countered.

Thomas turned his attention to his eldest. "What would you like, Kathleen?"

"Both sound fun." She replied, nervously turning her gaze to the door. "Daddy, Mommy said we should wait."

His lips firmed in a frown. "This is what fathers do. They build for their families."

Amanda returned to the family den a few minutes later. "Shall we start researching companies?"

Ian shook his head. "Daddy can make a better one, Mommy."

Amanda's eyes narrowed at the coup that occurred with her brief absence. "I see." After a couple of tense seconds of staring between the husband and wife, her smile reappeared. "I can’t wait to see what you decide upon.."

He frowned at her suspicious, sweet tone. Thomas was going to build this to show that he was as good as every other father they knew.

***************

"We get to have a castle and a pirate ship!" Elizabeth explained that night as Amanda helped her into her pajamas.

"You do?" Amanda smiled at her daughter's excitement. "I can't wait to see it." She made her youngest child giggle when she swept her up in her arms. A quick kiss was set on her cheek before she sent the little lady downstairs to play before bedtime.

Ian came barreling into the bedroom and into Amanda's waiting arms. He hugged her tight when she stood with him in his arms.

"Look Mommy!" He pointed at his pajamas. "Daddy found my pirate ones! I can wear them on the ship."

"You will be the most fearsome pirate the world has ever known." Amanda declared. She squeezed him tight before kissing his cheek.

His smile, so like his father's, grew at her words. He wiggled out of her arms, then hurried downstairs.

Ian's voice carried back over his shoulder as he yelled out to his sisters. "It's my turn to pick a movie!"

Amanda gathered the girls' discarded clothes, meeting Thomas in the children's shared bathroom.

He held up Ian's shirt. "I see grape popsicles are back in the freezer."

Amanda showed him Elizabeth's, "As are the cherry ones."

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't like the niggling suspicion he had that his wife thought his more rugged skills were lacking. "Do you really doubt that I can build the children a playhouse?"

She paused in gathering the rest of the laundry. "Thomas, I never doubt that you are capable of anything you set your mind to."

He took the basket of dirty clothes from her. "Then why the continued offers to look up construction companies?"

She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Because I know that though you are able to build the children's playhouse, I also know that you are intelligent enough to realize when you need to call someone with a bit more experience."

He frowned slightly at that when she pressed a brief kiss to his lips then left to join the children.

Thomas followed after her, more determined than ever before to leave her in awe of his yet undiscovered woodworking talent.

*****************

A week later...

Thomas glared at the number of tools around him with piles of lumber, nails, and screws. Various metal brackets had been purchased along with items he was unsure of their name.

Amanda joined him to look over the materials in their back yard. "Would you like me to ask any of the servants to assist you?"

"No, thank you." He replied, a touch insulted she still insisted he could not do this on his own.

"Very well." She kissed him tenderly. "I'm taking Kathleen over to Nadia's studio for her art lesson. Do you need me to take the twins?" She smiled at him. "They really want to watch you build this Pirate Castle."

Unable to resist her when she looked up at him with that expression of adoration, he wrapped his arms around her. "They can stay here with me." He kissed her again. "Hopefully by the time you return, we will have the platform outlined."

***************

Thomas felt completely out of his element. All those lessons his late father had tried to give him on which tools worked best in certain situations, seemed to have never existed. He couldn't recall anything other than his immense boredom during those conversations.

"Daddy?" Elizabeth climbed up on the boards. "Can I paint the castle pink?"

Ian groaned dramatically at the thought. "A pirate ship can't be pink!"

"I'm not painting yours." She argued. "I'm painting mine."

Thomas chuckled softly as his son seemed truly offended at the notion that his side of the ship would be touching his twin's castle.

"We'll talk colors after we build it." He told them. "Now who wants to help me measure."

Thomas and the twins set out measuring the area they intended to place the playhouse on. They then took turns helping him measure the wood.

It was finally the moment for Thomas to saw the first board. His children watched in eager anticipation for him to begin.

After one inch was cut, he sent his children to ask Hudson for some refreshments.

He kept an eye on them until they went into the house then finished sawing through the board.

"This isn't so difficult," he said to himself. "Anyone can do it."

******************

An hour later, Thomas knew why most people opted out of this type of manual labor.

His pride though wouldn't allow him to give up. If I can make a critically acclaimed space odyssey film from nothing but a piece of an idea from a forgetful author, then I can build this, he thought. He picked up a hammer and tried once again to nail in place the rest of the floor.

The twins chased each other while he worked. He glanced up when he heard Elizabeth's cry of anger when her brother tagged her once more.

The hammer hit his thumb.

A string of expletives exploded out of his mouth while he shook his hand. When he stood up, his foot tripped over one of the loose floorboards and he careened off the platform.

He landed with a soft thud in the grass.

Two curious heads leaned over him.

"Daddy?" Ian whimpered. "Are you okay?"

Elizabeth knelt down on his other side. "Poor Daddy." She sniffed and gently patted his shoulder. "We need Mommy."

Her twin took off toward the manor.

"I'm fine." Thomas muttered as he struggled to get up. He winced at the cut along his right arm. His thumb on his left hand was throbbing in a steady beat with his right ankle.

Elizabeth made him stay seated. She then rested her head against his arm. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. I know it hurts."

Thomas felt his lips quirk into a smile when he realized she was repeating the words he used whenever she fell down.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Does it sting?"

He nodded, cuddling her close for a hug. "It does, very much so."

He looked up when he noticed Amanda and Ian rushing toward him with a first aid kit.

"What happened?" Amanda asked. She searched the grounds. "Ian said something about ducks hurting you."

"Ducks?" Thomas repeated completely puzzled.

Ian nodded. "Daddy said it was a mother duck."

Elizabeth pointed at the hammer on the ground. "Daddy said it was this mother duckin' hammer!" She glared at it, stomping on the handle in retribution. "It hurt him!"

Thomas's eyes widened as he recalled his cursing when he hit his thumb.

Amanda snorted and began to laugh uncontrollably when Ian continued to point at all the mother ducks that had frustrated his father.

"Mommy!" Elizabeth scolded. "These ducks hurt Daddy!"

"I know." Amanda wiped away her tears of laughter. "I will make certain to take care of all these," her lips trembled with mirth, "duckin' things."

She asked the children to go inside and let a worried Hudson know all was well while she finished helping Thomas.

Once they were out of ear shot, the couple dissolved into laughter once more.

Amanda gently tended to his wounds as he explained what had happened.

She wrapped her arm around him and led him limping back toward their home. "Now that you have suffered a duckin' accident," she gently squeezed him in a side hug, "will you relent and call someone a little more qualified to build it?"

"I will." Thomas mumbled. Now that the levity was gone, he was completely disappointed that he had been unable to build the playhouse.

****************

That night, Thomas winced when he got into bed. He gingerly propped his sprained ankle on a pillow and eased his sore muscles onto the mattress.

Amanda leaned over to kiss him.

"One would think I deserved more than a single kiss after all I endured." He grumbled when she rolled away from him to turn her lamp off.

"Those mother ducks really did a number on you." She teased. She pressed a gentle kiss to the long cut on his arm. "These marks and injuries just prove once more that I couldn't have picked a better man to marry and have children with."

His frown eased into a smile at the sweetness of her words. He then pointed to other bruises and nicks from his fall for her to kiss. She diligently did so until he pointed at his lips.

"Why am I having flashbacks to Raiders of the Lost Ark?" Amanda asked. "I believe Indiana Jones did this very thing with Marian."

"Yes but, what I fought far outweighs Indiana's troubles." Thomas urged her closer. "I did this for our children." He added, brushing his lips against hers.

"That you did." She melted against him as the kiss continued. "I suppose this means you need a more special hands-on type care."

He reached for the hem of her nightgown after she took his shirt off.

Just as her lips met his, he mumbled. "You're duckin' right I do."