#but when you have a magical seamstress as your godmother stand-in you get only the prettiest of dresses lol

[ladyinsilvcr]

                         𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 — 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤

[yehet-me-up]

A Truth Universally Acknowledged - Chapter One

Pairing (this chapter): Junmyeon x Reader (female) 

Genre: Jane Austen-inspired, Regency fun + angst 

Rating: PG (this chapter)

Word Count: 5,296

Summary: A chance meeting brings a handsome, charming man named Jun into your life and your heart. But as your family gets used to their new life after a scandalous loss of money and status, the obstacles between the two of you stack up. 

Moodboard by @gingersaysjump​ A GODDESS, TRULY 😍 

A/N: I’m indebted to Shanae and Kat @yeoldontknow​​ for support and plotting with me and for fanning the flames of this series. 💕😘

Story Masterlist

The meal is half finished by the time your father finally joins the breakfast table; ambling and struggling to remain proud even in the face of ruin. 

He sits down at the head of the table like the king of a crumbling country, lost and diminished with lack of purpose.

Your mother watches him anxiously, her toast abandoned on her plate as she takes in his drawn brow. He clutches a letter in his hand, his mouth thinning to a tight line.

Across the table, you and your sister meet each other’s gaze. She chews anxiously on her bottom lip and you give her a small shrug of surrender. Since word came out that your family’s fortune was lost in a series of bad investments, the news of your fate has felt like a sword hanging above your head.

But now, apparently, the sword has fallen.

Your father clears his throat. ‘John has written to me.’ The words stretch out into a pause.

With a noise of frustration your mother drops her glass to the table. ‘And?’

He can’t meet her eyes, staring at the unfolded paper in his hand. ‘The house has been purchased. And at ten percent over what we asked for.’

Your sister raises her brow. ‘Why on earth would someone pay more?’

He clears his throat, awkwardly looking out the wide dining room window to the lush garden beyond. ‘We... came to an agreement.’

Dread settles low in your stomach. Whatever this agreement is, you have a sickening feeling it involves you.

‘As Mary and Daniel will be coming with your mother and I to Bath, the house will be lacking proper help,’ he says softly, ashamed. ‘The new owner inquired as to whether my daughters would be willing to remain at the house under his employ. Your room and board will be provided for.’

Your sister stands, fire in her eyes. She slams her palms on the thick wood table. She is a spark, always a roaring blaze, while you are the embers, burning hot beneath the surface, consuming yourself with indignation.

‘You mean he offered us the gracious opportunity to be servants in our own home? And you accepted?’ She demands sharply, rooting out the truth with a voice like a knife. 

Next to you, your mother drops her head into her hands, quietly weeping. ‘How could you?’ she pleads. 

When she looks up her cheeks are shiny with tears. ‘How will our daughters ever find husbands now Richard? What will become of them?’

He straightens, trying to regain some of his pride. ‘It seemed the best situation… for all.’

Your mother and sister scoff but all you can do is stare at the way the light glints off the water in your cup in front of you. Sadness settles over you, heavy and resigned, and you try to find something positive to cling to. 

‘This is humiliating,’ your sister hisses. She folds her arm and goes to stand at the window, radiating shame and heat.

‘We have hardly enough money for your mother and I to live. There is not enough to- you would have had to support yourself somehow anyway. There are still those in this village who are sympathetic to us. It seemed... the best solution.’

‘What about Bradley?’ your sister asks. The fact that your brother is able to work a respectable job and earn his own living is a wedge between him and you two.

‘Your brother will remain here in town, as well,’ he says. ‘The Allens have consented to let him sleep in the back room of the shop, in exchange for some extra work he will do from now on.’

Silence falls in the room. 

Finally you speak, resigned to this fate. ‘When?’

Everyone turns to your father. ‘Well. Your mother and I are essentially packed. The furniture, the art, most of the clothes will remain here with the house or be sold to appease our debts.’

‘We can’t even take our clothes?’ your sister demands. Her one true love is fashion and this must cut her deep.

He raises a hand. ‘Now, now darling. You can select three gowns to take with you to the servant’s quarters. That should be plenty. And Mary has a few spare work dresses she can leave behind for you and your sister.’

She glares at him, resembling a snake, spitting venom. ‘When? A month? A week?’

Your father pauses, rubbing his eyes. He looks as old as time itself when he finally looks around the table. ‘Tomorrow.’

The word is akin to a punch in your gut and you gasp. It’s drowned out by your mother and sister speaking in unison.

He makes a noise like a bear. ‘Your mother and I will depart in the morning. The two of you will move into the servants cottage tomorrow and begin preparing the house for the new tenant. Anna will be staying here, she will show you what to do.’

‘I’ll be meeting him later today to formalize the papers with the clerk.’ Message delivered, he slumps back in his chair. The last of his kingdom gone.

The wounded pride, your family name tarnished, you could tolerate. What use have you for the opinions of the small-minded people in town, as long as those you love are happy and in good health?

But the sight of him like this, broken and hollow, undoes you. Robs you of the naive hope you’ve kept hidden in your heart for weeks. That somehow this was all a joke. That it would somehow be fine. 

The stories you read had built up in your mind a fervent hope in divine intervention. A distant relative who would take you in. A gift from a wealthy friend who takes pity on you. A fairy godmother or a magical witch to grant your deepest wishes.

But as you listen to the sounds of baking through the open kitchen door, you know it is well and truly over. Neither of your parents have siblings of means. Your best friend, Maggie, has to work as a seamstress to help her husband’s meager income. Fairies and witches only exist between the pages of books.

No one is coming to rescue you. 

Your parents will be far away. Any hope you had of a life spent in the gardens - reading and laughing with your sister and Maggie - is dashed. Freedom leeches from your life and you find it suddenly very hot in the room.

Soon, you will be forced to marry to survive, whoever will take you. Either that or spend your days working in the kitchens, scrubbing pots and floors and pillow cases until your fingers grow old with age. 

‘I’m coming with you,’ your sister says harshly. ‘I want to look this man in the eyes before you sign our fates away.’

He waves a hand listlessly in agreement. Despair roars in your chest and you stand abruptly, chair clattering to the floor behind you.

‘I’m sorry, I have to- I can’t breathe,’ you say, heart thundering in your chest.

You turn and rush through the entry to the kitchen, your father calling after you. But you don’t stop as you run through the back door out into the yard. The chill of winter is finally melting from the earth and it cools your skin as you run like a woman possessed.

The length of your dress threatens to trip you and you gather the fabric in your arms with an uncharacteristic growl of frustration. Frustration at the stupid material, impeding your desperate run. Frustration at your father and mother for what feels like abandonment. Frustration at the men in your family for losing your very livelihood. 

Frustration at whoever purchased Springwoods for offering this ludicrous arrangement. He must be an old man, you think savagely, as you leave the neatly trimmed garden of your family’s home and enter the wild field beyond.

The path through the expansive, unclaimed territory at the edge of the town leads to a small hill and you dash up it as though salvation is at the top. 

An old man with a miserable wife and several greedy children. You hate them all already with a fire you didn’t know you possessed.

The vitriol of your thoughts makes you stop and catch your breath. You drop to your knees in the long grass with surrender. 

No, you shake your head. No matter how horrible this feels, you vow to not let circumstances turn you cruel, mean, and bitter. 

For long moments you breathe, savoring the sweet smell in the air. It must have rained last night while you slept, for the air is rich and full with the scent of earth and the ground is damp beneath your palms. 

You wish it would rain again; cleanse the world back to what it was before the news of your family’s ruin. But the sky is clear and the sun shines tauntingly through the white clouds. 

If the world refuses to offer you relief, you’ll give it to yourself. Underneath the great tree at the top of the hill you allow the tears to fall. Up here there’s no one but the wind to hear your sobs.  

Just when you begin to wonder if there are no more miracles in the world, you see something that feels positively magical.

On your left you hear barking and you watch as a large golden-brown dog comes barreling up to you. Your mouth falls open with surprise as the creature reaches you. 

He pants, his tongue to the side. His mouth pulls back in what you would consider a smile if he were human.

‘Well, hello there,’ you say with a laugh. He roots himself under one of your arms, wiggling to settle himself against you. ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.’

You giggle when he looks up at you, eyes wide with innocence. Without hesitation you begin to pet his head. He closes his eyes and makes a rumbling noise of pleasure that melts your heart.

‘Where did you come from, little love?’ you ask him around the thickness in your throat.

He lifts his head and his tail starts to wag, thumping against your side and back. You see what he’s excitedly watching - a man is making his way up the hill. 

A noise of surprise leaves you. You can’t help it, this man looks like an angel or a God; something powerful and radiant, impossible and otherworldly.

His black hair sweeps messily across his forehead in the wind. The white shirt and black pants he wears fit him perfectly. He must have some money, then, if he can afford such nice, tailored garments. 

He’s not from here, though; you absolutely would have remembered meeting him. He seems to have appeared suddenly from your imagination. His face is open and unbelievably handsome in a way that makes you smooth your free hand through your hair self-consciously.

When he reaches you and your new furry companion, he laughs. The sound is melodic and deep, reaching down to your bones.

‘There you are, you rascal,’ he says to the dog with amusement in his warm, dark eyes. ‘I see you’ve made a new friend.’

His attention turns to you and heat blooms in your face under his gentle scrutiny. There are several boys in town you entertained a fancy for growing up, but none of them made you feel this way - the way the air feels heavy and dangerous when a storm is brewing. 

But this is not a boy, you think. This is a man. 

To avoid embarrassing yourself further you turn away, wiping at the tears on your cheeks with the back of your hand.

From the edge of your vision you see him sit next to you, leaning his head on one elbow and stretching his legs out in front of him. He does it casually, as though he happens upon women crying in the wild every day. 

You sniffle, hating how small and fragile it sounds.

‘I think our new friend is sad, Oliver,’ he says softly, petting the dog’s head. ‘I wonder if there is anything we can do to help her.’

When you turn back to him he’s looking up at you with warmth and compassion. The sincerity and honesty of him is readily apparent.

‘You already did, just by being here,’ you answer, attempting a small smile.

He smiles broadly and you think of the stars, shining on a clear summer night. You think of him as a creature from the forest beyond this field, sent by magic to come and whisk you away from your fate. 

You imagine him riding away with you on a great white horse like some knight of old. In this moment you’d go wherever he wanted to take you.

‘No one should be alone when they are crying,’ he says gently.

His mouth tugs to the side, his thick brows pull together. He looks as though he speaks from experience and you wonder what sadness has visited his life.

Against reason you feel instinctively protective of him. Something in his nature is too open, too ready to help, and you feel a desire to shield him from everyone in the world that would take advantage of him.

Oliver shakes himself before resting his head on your knee, looking at you and begging you to pet him. You chuckle and wind your fingers through the soft fur at his neck. 

The man laughs, the rich sound spreading along your skin like a balm. ‘Sorry about him, he’s a bit… wild. He’s not used to being in the company of beautiful ladies.’

He fights the tug of his lips as he watches you. His words undress you with his boldness, warm your heart and make your chest feel pleasantly heavy.

‘Untamed, wild things are the best of all, I think,’ you answer confidently, leaning back on your own elbow, mirroring his pose.

Oliver stretches out in response, sticking his nose in between the fabric at your knees and huffing. The man sighs. It’s impossible to tear your focus away from the playful glint in his eyes, the comfort you feel around him wholly unprecedented

He raises a brow and cocks his head, considering. ‘Yes, I think you are absolutely right.’ He smiles at you like the two of you now share a secret. 

If he were Joseph, the barrister your mother has been shoving you towards for years, he’d turn the conversation to matters of politics. If he were Lord Clarke, he’d bore you to tears with tales of his days at sea with the Navy. If he were your brother Bradley, he’d make some inappropriate joke to get a rise out of you. 

But he proves himself to be an unexpected kind of man.

‘Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave…’ he says dreamily, looking up at the swaying branches of the great tree before meeting your focus once again.

This time there’s a heat, a knowing, in his expression that feels like the time you burned yourself on a candle. But this burn is far more pleasant.

You laugh with joy and surprise, the grief and anguish from an hour ago feel acres away from you. 

It occurs to you to remember your manners. You should sit up, straighten your dress; ask after his name, his family, his occupation. But up here, above the town, slightly damp and dirty, amongst the wind and the unruly grass, you can’t find it in you to care. 

‘You like Keats?’

He nods. ‘I prefer Lord Byron, myself. But I can’t deny the beauty of Keats.’

Delight flares in your chest. ‘I adore Byron, the scoundrel. ‘Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.’’

He smiles and hums, satisfied at something. The sun breaks through the clouds and he follows it, watching as it dances along the folds of your dress down to the sliver of exposed skin at your ankle.

You should find your dignity and cover it. He should stop looking. But neither of you move. 

He breathes deeply and you watch as the motion moves the fabric of his shirt. Absently you wonder what his skin would be like beneath your lips. If it would be as warm and soft as it looks.

The bell in town distantly sounds the hour and you both jolt; the spell is broken. You tuck your legs under you, feeling as though a pitcher of cold water has been poured over your head.

The wildness in his eyes is hidden safely away when he looks back to you. ‘I’m sorry, I have an appointment in town I cannot miss.’

You nod sadly, wishing you could stay here forever. ‘I should get back to-’ you start, unable to give voice to the tangle of circumstances that await you back home. ‘I should get back.’

He stands, dusting himself off. Oliver stirs, raising himself and running in a lazy circle around his master. 

The man moves closer, offering you his hands. Something warns you not to touch him. Warns you that once you know what his palms feel like against yours, the sensation will haunt you all the rest of your days.

Ignoring reason, you reach for him with a recklessness born of longing. He clasps his hands around yours and pulls you upright. You stare at him and savor the heat and the roughness of him against you, unwilling and unable to release him.

His thumbs lightly stroke the top of your hands; a thrilling and foreign sensation builds in you. The way he watches you reminds you of the cover of a book you saw, hidden away in the back of the shop. Swirls of reds and oranges. A couple in an embrace. Hands and lips and nakedness and everything forbidden and raw and sensual you had longed to know.

Your rational mind reminds you of your family, waiting for you, mourning and broken. You take a step back, dropping your hands and regarding him with surprise and a tinge of fear. 

This is a dangerous thing. And you cannot afford the luxury of danger.

You curtsy for him, trying to remember how you are supposed to act. ‘Good day, sir.’

He frowns, shaken. But his good breeding takes over and he bows to you formally in return, dissonant with the lawless nature sprawling around you.

‘Good day, miss,’ he says politely in return. ‘I hope to see you again.’

Swallowing all the desperate and foolish things you with to say to him, you simply nod. Before you can do something truly reckless you turn and hurry down the hill.

‘Wait, I forgot to get your name!’ he calls out, sounding desperate.

You turn and don’t fight the smile that graces your lips. You shout your name to him and he reaches a hand in the air, pretending to catch it and tuck it in his breast pocket.

‘My name is Jun,’ he shouts back and you mimic his motion, pretending to hold his name in your hand.

For long seconds you hold his gaze, once again wishing you could leave with him and never return. When you turn from his sight you imagine hiding his name away inside your chest.

The walk back to your house feels effortless, as though you are floating on air. A giddy lightness lives in your heart alongside his name and refuses to abandon you.

You skip breakfast and stay in bed the next morning for as long as you can, savoring the softness and comfort of your bed, knowing you won’t sleep in it again. 

When you cannot delay any further you rise and dress yourself in a simple purple dress and plain shoes. 

With a heavy heart you pack two more dresses, one plain and blue, the other white and finer, into a square of fabric with some underclothes. Along with that you add a pair of sturdier walking shoes, the essentials you need for your hygiene, and your favorite book of stories. 

Once the task is complete you linger to make the bed, straightening the already tidy room, and to stare out the small window out at the garden and the field beyond. 

You sigh. Yesterday you felt magic in your fingertips, that around Jun anything was possible. 

Today, by yourself, you feel small and human and fragile. As though you are already fading away in the background of his house. 

‘Time to go,’ you say to yourself, to the room that is no longer yours. 

Gathering the corners of the fabric together, you pull the small bundle into your arms. In the hallway you find your sister with a similar pile of fabric and items.

‘I don’t care what he says, I’m taking four dresses,’ she says, indignant and regal, like a queen. 

You laugh, reassured that even though everything has changed, you still have each other. 

The departure of your parents is strained and emotional, but neither you nor your sister cry as they drive off. You’ll need all the strength you have to face the days ahead and it wouldn’t do to break down now.

Once their carriage disappears around the bend you go to set up your meager possessions in the small corner of the servant’s cottage. Two beds and a small closet to share now belong to you and your sister. A short few minutes later you head off to the house to begin your new life as servants. 

The two of you find Anna, the housekeeper, in the kitchen inventorying the food. Lucy, a woman in her early twenties and a close friend of you and your sister, gives you a nod as she kneads a mound of dough. 

Aside from Anna, the only members of the staff left are Frederick the butler, promoted from footman at Daniel’s departure, and Lucy, a kitchenmaid who is now the head cook of the house with Mary gone.

Anna notices you both standing there. ‘Good morning ladies. We all know the state of affairs here,’ she says with characteristic bluntness. 

‘Your father told me the new family is bringing a ladies maid. So, one of you will help out in the kitchens with the cooking and one of you will need to tidy the rooms and do the laundry. It’s up to you to decide, I know you’re both capable young ladies.’

You and your sister look at each other and both start talking at the same time. 

‘Well, obviously -’ ‘Of course, I’d-’

She laughs and looks at Anna. ‘I’ll cook and she’ll clean.’

‘Exactly,’ you say in agreement, a smile pulling at your lips.

Everyone knows you’re an awful cook and she’s messier than a hoard of wild animals. Anna chuckles and rolls her eyes. Maybe this won’t be so awful, you think with a small candle of hope in your heart.

‘What time are they arriving?’ you ask Anna, already imagining the dozens of things that must need to be done.

‘They’ll be here for dinner.’ She says before waving a hand at you both. ‘Go on, get out of the house. Enjoy the day. Lucy and I have the meals for today. The house is in fine state. We can start on your duties tomorrow morning,’ she says with a wink.

‘Let’s go to the market, shall we?’ your sister asks, a light in her eyes you haven’t seen in weeks.

The air in the town is hot and close, crowded with shoppers and sellers. You and your sister cling to each other until you pass through to one of the quieter side streets. 

Neither of you are inclined toward melancholy. Despite the change in fortune and status, you’re both determined to enjoy yourselves.

‘Hmm, what shall we buy today?’ she muses, knowing full well neither of you can afford a single thing.

Always ready to play a game, you join her. ‘Let’s buy another horse for our extravagant carriage. Perhaps some jewel-encrusted slippers for the next ball.’

She laughs, squeezing your arm. A shop selling ribbons, bows, and other assorted fabric is just ahead. She dashes inside and unfurls a length of long pink ribbon from a display, wrapping it around her waist dramatically.

‘And I shall buy a new dress, the most lavish and expensive one we can find,’ she says, fanning her lashes and pouting her lips absurdly. 

You laugh so hard you almost snort and clasp your hand to your mouth. She fixes the ribbon and twines her arm through yours again, pulling you forward, cackling happily in your ear.

On days like these the loneliness and drudgery of country life seems far away and manageable. On days like these, when the sun is shining and there are reasons to laugh, life seems downright idyllic.

The two of you round a corner and the sight of a pair of men up ahead makes your heart leap into your throat.

Though he’s cleaned up a bit, one of the men is definitely Jun. Color rises in your cheeks at the sight of him, the way his lips pout as he speaks to his companion. 

He laughs, reaching a hand to the other man’s arm in delight. This man wears the standard red and gold military dress, highlighting the auburn tint to his hair. Jun is much more formally attired today in white trousers, polished leather boots, and a high-collared, deep blue shirt, confirming your suspicion that he has money. 

His eyes crinkle in the corners and your stomach flips with something hot and untamable. You freeze to the spot and your sister tugs on your arm.

‘What? What is it?’ your sister asks, looking around.

You pull her back slightly around the corner so you can observe. ‘That man, up ahead. That’s the one I met yesterday. Jun,’ you say, unable to help your grin when you say his name.

She turns and scans the crowd before frowning. ‘Oh no. Him? In the blue shirt?’ 

You frown in confusion at the intense dislike in her voice and follow her gaze. ‘Certainly you can’t dislike Jun?’ you ask, searching her face for signs she’s joking. ‘He must be new to town, what can he have done?’

Aside from Jun and his friend the only other people on the street are women and children shopping for food at the grocers across the way.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the gentleman in the blue shirt - I met him yesterday,’ she points, none too discreetly, to Jun. Her intense bright eyes brook no laughter. ‘That is Lord Junmyeon Kim, the man who has purchased Springwoods from us.’

‘Oh.’ Your whole being sags in disappointment against the stone wall. 

Already your foolish and impetuous heart had fantasized about seeing him again. Last night, when you told your sister about the things he said, the way he made you feel, you’d felt brighter than the moon shining in the sky.

But if he is the new owner of your family estate, then there are several monumental obstacles between you now. While he is no old man, he might be mean and dreadful underneath his cheerful exterior. 

When he realizes you are not only a servant, but a servant in his very home, he will certainly never take you seriously. You clasp your hands together at your chest to stifle your dismay. How on earth can you face him now?

‘And so we meet again,’ comes a warm male voice to your right.

You turn, gasping in surprise when you see Jun and his companion standing next to you. You were so distracted you didn’t even hear them approach. 

He’s fighting a smile again, his lips twitching at catching you off guard.

‘Hello again, Lord Kim,’ your sister says pointedly, curtsying to him. ‘May I introduce you to my sister?’

You grit your teeth and follow her lead, forcing yourself to keep your emotion locked inside as you curtsy to the new Master of Springwoods. Your hope and joy at his presence turns to embarrassment in the pit of your stomach as you straighten to look at him.

He looks to your sister and falters, his attention darting between the two of you, no doubt putting things together. His easy, open expression draws back into something confused. After a beat he bows to you both.

‘Pleasure to see you again, ladies,’ he says, resigned, brows pulled together. ‘You must be Lord Hayward’s youngest daughter then?’ 

You nod. The moment stretches out while you get lost in his eyes once more. You wish there was some way to undo this moment and return you to the purity and lightness of yesterday on the hill. No doubt he realizes how lowly you are in comparison to him and wants nothing further to do with you. Given the circumstances, you shouldn’t want anything to do with him, either.

Blessedly, you're all saved by the military man.

He bows. 'Don't worry, I'll introduce myself,' he says gamely. 'My name is Colonel Kim Minseok. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies.' 

The corners of his mouth tip up like a cat and you feel your sister grab at your elbow like you've always done when trying to discreetly get each other's attention.

There's something playful and mischievous in his face and you look between the two of them. Your sister's cheeks color and she bites her lip. As always, she is able to recover and cut through awkward situations with grace.

'So, what brings the two of you to the market today?' she asks the Colonel in an attempt at conversation.

'Ah, well. My friend Jun here is new to the life of a Lord and I decided he simply must stop dressing like some retired military scoundrel and look the part,' he says, motioning to a shop up the road.

'Oooh, I love Taylor and Sons,' your sister exclaims, clasping her hands together in delight.

She takes a step towards the Colonel and asks how a military man came to be have such exquisite taste in fashion. In the space left by the pair of them you and Jun regard each other.

‘And how are you today... Lord Kim?’ You hope he can’t see the way you knead your palm with your thumb in the folds of your dress, doing your best to stay composed. 

He winces. 'Please, call me Jun.' His expression implores you, attempting to draw you back into his warmth.

But if your mother bred nothing else into you, she always encouraged you to be polite and formal. Though she could never curb your wild and imaginative nature, you can't help but follow her lessons on decorum. It gives you the feeling of being in control in spite of your aching heart, and you cling to it.

'I think we had better remain on formal terms, Lord Kim, given our mutual statuses,' you say softly.

'Please, if we could -' he starts, reaching a hand to the space between you, seeming saddened at thought.

But something behind him catches your attention and he stops speaking to look at what caused the sudden change in your mood.

Your older brother Bradley steps out of the men’s club opposite you, looking far more disheveled than usual, especially given the early hour. He looks awful, hair matted and eyes hollow, a large stain on his shirt.

He darts a calculating look up and down the street before turning up his collar and hurrying off. It's such an odd moment you can hardly believe it's the same person you've known all your life.

'Do you know that man?' Jun asks, perplexed. 

If he was gambling... Gods, how much more trouble can this family cause in one week, you think with a sigh. An instinct to preserve what is left of your family’s reputation makes you move.

'Sister, we must go,' you call to her abruptly, interrupting her conversation and stepping forward to grasp her clothed elbow.

She looks at you with confusion, as do Lord Kim and Colonel Minseok. 'Now?'

'Yes, now,' you say, trying to convey to her the urgency of the moment with a look. 'Please.'

With a sad look to the Colonel she nods and winds her arm through yours. 'Well, it's been a pleasure Colonel.' She smiles at him and her mouth sours with tension when she looks at Jun. 'Lord Kim.'

The last thing you see as you pull her back towards the direction Bradley went is the unguarded expression of longing on Jun's face as he watches you hurry away.

[bee-kathony]

ONCE UPON A TIME | CINDERELLA AU | THE BALL

Inspired by the beautiful moodboard created by the talented @balfeheughlywed

Chapter 1: First Impressions | Chapter 2: Preparations | Chapter 3: Lavender’s Blue | Chapter 4: The Ball

“Claire blushed and felt her palms grow slick but regained her composure, remembering where she was and took a deep curtsy. She straightened, walking gently down the stairs. She could hear the crowd whisper as she came closer to joining them. And then she saw him. Him!“

Claire raced home, eager to tell her Step-father and siblings about the upcoming ball. She hadn’t heard any news of it before Jamie had told her just now. There would be a lot of preparation before the ball in just two weeks.

Walking into the lounge she grimaced, Laoghaire was playing the piano or what you could call attempting to play.

“Did you hear about the ball?” She spoke to the room and all eyes snapped their attention to her.

“Ball?!” “What ball?!” Laoghaire and Alex both said at the same time, abandoning their tasks and coming to jump excitedly in front of Claire.

“The King is throwing a ball at the palace!” She smiled, for once she felt a shared happiness with her new family. “And everyone in the Kingdom is invited!” She added, squealing internally alongside Laoghaire and Alex.

Jonathan stood from the couch, abandoning a book, “Everyone?” He asked, interest sparked across his face.

“Yes! Everyone and it’s in two weeks.” Claire twisted her fingers together, desperate to find a dress suitable enough to wear.

Laoghaire gasped, “Two weeks? Da, that’s barely enough time to have a dress made!”

She watched as Jonathan stepped closer to Laoghaire, placing a gentle hand on her arm, at least he could show a semblance of love to his own children, “You’re right,” he turned to Claire, “Cinderella, go into town and ask the seamstress to make two beautiful gowns!”

Claire couldn’t believe what she was hearing, he wanted two gowns? Obviously Alex wasn’t going to be wearing a gown, that could only mean the other was intended for her.

“Two? That’s - that’s so kind of you to think of me.” She smiled.

Jonathan scoffed, “I wasn’t. Laoghaire must have two dresses made so she can pick from them.” He placed his hand on his hip, “What? Did you think the other was for you? Don’t be foolish Cinderella.”

Claire’s heart crushed inwards, silly of her to get her hopes up.

“Oh. No, I didn’t think that at all.” She lied, controlling her features to shield them from the humiliation they had caused her.

Alex touched her on the shoulder, “Don’t forget to ask the seamstress to make me a new suit Cinderella, I’ll not be caught dead in a kilt.”

“Laoghaire, you must look your best if you’re to have a chance with the Prince, you must find him and dance with him, don’t let anyone get in your way!” Jonathan commanded Laoghaire.

Claire sighed and turned to leave the room, leaving the squealing Randalls behind.

Two weeks came and went, Claire now stood beside Laoghaire’s bed, helping her into the rather large hoop skirt. She tied it around her small waist and finished throwing layer after layer over the hoop. Claire had to try very hard to hold back her comments as she looked at Laoghaire twirling around and around the room. The dress she had chosen of the two was a green and blue, the skirts absolutely massive and the whole thing was covered head to toe in sparkles and beads.

Not in her taste.

But that didn’t matter. Once Claire arrived at the ball she would find Jamie and spend the evening with him, she looked forward to seeing him again in only a few hours.

If her stepfather would not have a dress made for her, it seemed to Claire that there was no reason why she would not try to sew it up herself.

Claire had found the remnants of an old dress that was her Mother’s stowed away in a chest in the attic, her bedroom now. She had been working on stitching it up and fitting it to her size late at night and early in the mornings.

Looking in the mirror, she was quite pleased with the work she had done and smoothed her hair one last time before joining the others downstairs.

She descended from the stairs wearing a pink chiffon dress with capped sleeves. Jonathan, Laoghaire and Alex all turned to look at her, looks of disgust written plain on their face. “It cost you nothing, it belonged to my Mother and I took it up myself.”

“Oh la la, Cinderella at the ball! No one wants a servant for a Bride” Laoghaire chimed. Alex scoffed, straightening his cravat around his neck.

Claire stood on the last step, “I don’t want to ruin anything, I don’t even want to meet the Prince!”

Jonathan was in full uniform, knee high boots and fitted with sword at the waist. “Oh and you won’t, there’s no question if you’re going. You shall stay here… where you belong.”

Her heart beat faster, “But all of the maidens of the Kingdom are invited, by order of the King.”

“It’s the King I’m thinking of, it would be an insult to take you to the palace… dressed in these old rags you call a dress.”

“Rags? This was my Mother’s, it’s lovely.” Claire flattened the fabric between her fingers.

“Sorry to have to tell you but your Mother’s taste was questionable, this old thing is so old that its practically falling to pieces.” Jonathan walked in front of her and Claire had no notion of what he would do next. He touched the sleeve of her dress, pulling on the fabric and ripping it at the seams.

Laoghaire and Alex laughed, joining in and pulling on bits of the dress until it was in shreds.

“How could you?” Claire cried, silent tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I will not have anyone associate my children with the likes of you, a servant girl. You shall not go to the ball, mark me.” Jonathan placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and turned abruptly, leaving the room. Laoghaire and Alex cackled as they walked past her, leaving her standing there alone.

Claire watched from the front steps as they piled into the carriage and left for the ball. She had only wished to see Jamie again and now that chance was gone.

Claire ran out of the door and through to the garden, stopping at the well, her knees hit the ground with a soft thud. “I can’t do this!” She cried, “I don’t have courage anymore.” She wept, her dreams crushed in an instant.

Moments later she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

Looking up through her watery eyes, she saw the feet of someone standing beside her. Claire peered up to see who the feet belonged to.

A woman in a ragged old cloak with fiery red hair and from what she could tell, the most gorgeous green eyes, looked down at her.

“Deary, can you help me lass?” She spoke in a strong Scottish accent. “Would ye mind fetchin’ me a cup of milk? My carriage crashed down the road and yer’s is the first house I’ve seen.”

“Of course, yes, of course.” Claire stood from the well, wiping her face quickly and going to the side of the house where she knew there was a pale of fresh milk.

“Why are you cryin’?” The woman followed her around the side.

“It’s nothing.” Claire sniffed, pouring the glass and handing it to the woman.

“Nothing? What is a cup of milk? But kindness makes it everything.” This woman looked so strange, yet so familiar, Claire thought. She took the milk and drank it quickly, some of it spilling down her chin.

Claire gazed at the woman, what was this night turning into?

“Now… I don’t mean to hurry you, but you really haven’t got long Claire.” The woman said and Claire’s eyes grew wide as she spoke her name.

“What? How do you know me? Who are you?” Claire walked over to the woman to get a better look at her face.

“Who am I? I shoulda think ye’d work that one out Claire?” The woman said with a mischievous glint in her green eyes. “I’m your Fairy Godmother! Although some just think of me as a witch.” She laughed. “Ye may call me Geillis if ye like.”

Claire gaped Geillis, “You can’t be. They don’t exist, they’re just made up stories for children.”

“Fiddle faddle.” Geillis set the cup aside and and walked into the middle of the garden. “First thing’s first. Let me slip into something more comfortable.”

Claire took several steps back as Geillis produced what could only be described as a magic wand from her sleeve. She tossed it into the air and sparks flew from the tip and when Claire looked back down at Geillis she was now dressed in a very ornate and lavish silver dress.

“Mmm that’s better. Now where was I? Let’s see. What we need is somethin’ that says ‘Coach’.”

She must be dreaming, Claire thought. What a wonderful dream it was. She tossed aside the notion that none of this was real and went along with it, following her ‘Fairy Godmother’ around the garden.

“Oh that cart?” Claire pointed to a broken wheelbarrow.

“I’m thinkin’ fruit and veg… do you grow watermelon?”

“Um no. But we do grow pumpkins.”

“Oh that’ll do just fine.” Claire led them to the patch of pumpkins and Geilis picked up the biggest one she could wrap her arms around. “Lovely, oooh heavy pumpkin!” And dropped it on the ground at their feet. “Oh well let’s do it here.”

“Do what here?” Claire looked up from the pumpkin to Geillis.

“Turn the pumpkin into the carriage of course!” Of course.

Geillis flicked her wrist and more sparks shot out of the wand and aimed at the pumpkin. “Somethin’ is definitely happenin’.” To Claire’s amazement, something was happening.

“Oh take cover!” Geillis shouted and they both ran behind a stone fence. The pumpkin was growing! Claire couldn’t look away as suddenly the pumpkin burst and transformed into a beautiful golden carriage, adorned with leaves and vines.

“One carriage.” Geillis smiled, approving of her creation.

“You really are my Fairy Godmother.” This was beginning to feel like it wasn’t a dream.

“Yes Claire, I don’t just go along transforming pumpkins for just anybody. Now, where are those mice?” Geillis pointed her wand at the mice scurrying along the ground and again Claire stood amazed as the mice were changed into white horses.

Claire laughed and walked over to pet one of the horses, “Angus how fine you look.”

“Ah what next? Carriage…horses…footmen… I think I saw some wee lizards around here.” Geillis continued to transform the lizards into footmen and then their goose into a coachmen. Everything was set.

“Everyone into place! Come on.” Claire ran after Geillis and the others to the carriage now set on the path to go to the palace.

Just before she reached the carriage however Claire stopped, “Fairy Godmother…Geillis. This dress, I can’t go in this dress. Can you mend it?”

Geillis clicked her tongue and looked up and down at Claire’s dress. “I’ll make you something new!”

“Oh please don’t, this was my Mother’s and I want to wear it when I go to the ball, like she’s there with me.”

“Hmmm, well she wouldn’t mind if I cheer it up a bit aye? Perhaps a nice blue?”

Claire nodded and watched the sparks fly out of Geillis’ wand and towards her. She looked down as the fabric literally changed from pink to blue, the skirt lengthening and filling out. The dress was covered in sparkles that glittered in the light, the detail was exquisite and it was definitely the most wonderful thing Claire had ever worn.

“It’s beautiful! She’d love it.” Claire beamed from ear to ear.

“Off we go, quick! You’ll be late. In we go!” Claire picked up her skirts and began to step into the carriage.

“Wait! Lass, ye canna go in those shoes, those the best ye have?”

Claire looked down at her faded blue slippers that she wore everyday, “No one will see them.”

Geilis widened her eyes, “I’ll be quick, take them off.” Just like everything before, her slippers were transformed into delicate looking glass slippers, adorned with butterflies on the toes.

“But they’re made of glass?” Claire squinted at the shoes before her.

“Yes. And you’ll find they’re really comfortable.” Claire smiled and stepped into the shoes, completing the look. “My stepfather and my siblings?” She asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t recognise you.” She helped Claire into the carriage and shut the door, making sure the material of her dress was all stuffed inside.

“Oh Claire, I almost forgot. The magic will only last so long. With the last echo of the last bell at the last stroke of midnight, the spell will be broken and all will return to what it was before.”

“Midnight? That’s more than enough time.” Claire couldn’t believe it, she would get to see Jamie after all.

“Good. Off you go!” Geillis leaned to kiss her cheek before quickly taking a few steps back as the carriage launched forward.

“Thank you!” Claire shouted back to her Fairy Godmother. She wondered if she would ever see that woman again.

The ride to the palace was quick but Claire took in every moment. She didn’t know what to focus her eyes on, the way the moonlight shone off the carriage, the way her dress sparkled with every small movement or the fact that she currently was being taken to the ball being led by animals!

Fairytales were just that to Claire. Tales of make believe and magic. But looking around at all the splendour, suddenly Claire believed in a bit of magic or maybe it was indeed witchcraft.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” Claire muttered under her breath as they rolled up the front of the palace towering high on the hill, hundreds of steps led up to the entrance.

“Why thank you Mr. Lizard,” She smiled, taking the hand of the footman and stepping out onto the cobbled road.

“Midnight,” she repeated to herself and gathered her full skirts in her hands, taking the first step to what awaited her inside the palace.

_______________________________________________________________________

Jamie bowed yet again as another name was announced. He hadn’t seen her come in and he knew he wouldn’t miss her. Jamie darted his eyes through the crowd once more, looking for that Sassenach.

“Jamie, lad, stop turnin’ yer neck so or ye’ll get a crick in it.” Murtagh laughed, patting him on the back. “She’ll show up. If ye asked her to come, she’ll come.”

“Do you think Father will approve? What am I saying, of course he won’t, she’s no’ a Princess!” Jamie threw his hands in the air, momentarily taking a step back from the balcony.

“I just don’t see why I canna marry someone like her…”

Murtagh made a hmmph sound in his throat, “Someone like her or do ye mean her?”

Jamie quirked one side of his mouth up, “Her,” he touched the collar of his jacket, it fit so snuggly, he almost couldn’t breath. “I dinna even know her name, well I know she called herself ‘Beauchamp’ but I dinna think that’s her name.” He chuckled, remembering finding her that day in the woods, fallen off her horse.

“Johnathan Wolverton Randall, Captain of His Majesty’s Eighth Dragoons,” said the announcer by the doors, calling out the names of the guests as they entered.

“Wolverton eh, sounds like a sap.” Murtagh elbowed Jamie in the ribs.

“Laoghaire and Alexander Randall,” the announcer shouted loudly. Jamie watched as the two people, one a young girl and the other a young man, he assumed were siblings, walk down the stairs.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Jamie laughed, Laoghaire had tripped on the train of her dress and fallen several steps down, she had reached her hand up to her brother and had inadvertently pulled him down with her.

“Christ, the wee fools.” Murtagh laughed alongside him, Jamie always felt better with Murtagh around to make a joke of things.

“Jamie,” he turned to greet his Da, “Has this mystery girl arrived yet?” Brian said as he sat down in his chair, overlooking the crowd.

He set his hand on his Da’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Nah, she hasna come yet.”

“Dinna fash son. When she gets here I’m sure she’ll be bonny.” Jamie smiled, was his Da actually coming around to the idea of this Sassenach woman?

Another thirty minutes passed by with no sign of her and Jamie was growing restless.

“It’s time lad. Ye must go down and choose who to dance wi’ first.” Brian motioned for Jamie to join the crowd of people on the ballroom floor.

As Jamie walked down the stairs, he scanned the crowd once more. He dropped his head, all eyes on him, eager to see who he would choose first.

Just when Jamie took a step forward though, the door opened.

_______________________________________________________________________

Claire raced up the steps, careful not to trip on her dress, she was surprised at how easy it was to actually walk in the glass slippers.

As she finally reached the top step, she paused, “Breathe Beauchamp, just breathe,” and walked the few steps to the ballroom doors. The guards opened them for her, she put one foot in front of the other and walked in.

She stood at the top of the stairs, all eyes turned up to look at who this beautiful creature was.

Claire blushed and felt her palms grow slick but regained her composure, remembering where she was and took a deep curtsy. She straightened, walking gently down the stairs. She could hear the crowd whisper as she came closer to joining them. And then she saw him. Him!

Jamie parted the crowd, now standing before her. He bowed, his hand over his heart, “Your servant ma’am,” and then extended his hand to her.

“Would you have the first dance wi’ me?” He asked, his heart soaring.

“Yes. I will,” Claire smiled and took his offered hand in her trembling one.

As they walked forward to the middle of the room, the crowd made a circle around them.

“Hello, Jamie.” Claire said as he placed his other hand around her waist, pulling him as close as her dress would allow.

“Hello, Princess.” Jamie smiled and began to lead them in a dance. The music started and they spun and swayed. All eyes were on them but their eyes were only on each other.

Claire could hear Jamie humming along to the song which made her relax. Jamie then grabbed her waist with both hands and lifted her high into the air above him, eliciting ‘aahs’ and ‘oohs’ from the crowd. She felt so light, so free when she was in his arms.

“I was worried ye wouldna show.” Jamie admitted as he pulled her back close to him, spinning them around the outside of the circle.

Claire gave his back a gentle squeeze, “I almost didn’t make it. But I’m here now.”

Soon the dance ended and Jamie released her and bowed. The rest of the crowd rushed in and everyone took a partner as the music began again, this time a much more upbeat tune.

Jamie was supposed to dance with more ladies, take turns with everyone there but he couldn’t bear to not be near her. He didn’t ask for the second dance but grasped her hand in his once more.

Claire spotted them across the room just then, her Stepfather and siblings. She laughed when she noticed that Laoghaire was dancing with Alex, it seems she couldn’t dance with anyone else but her own brother!

“What is it Sassenach?” Jamie asked, a smile creeping on his own face.

“Oh just someone getting something they deserve.” Jamie followed her gaze over to where she was looking and saw the two people that had fallen down the stairs.

“Och, I saw them fall down the stairs earlier, come to think of it, so did everyone else.” He loved to see her smile.

Jamie had led them to the back of the crowd, “Come wi’ me.” Hand in hers, he walked quickly through the back door of the ballroom, away from the crowd, away from the noise. He just wanted to be with her.

The first room they came to was a room filled with portraits.

“So you’re the Prince.” Claire didn’t ask him, only said it as a statement.

“No’ the Prince. I’m only a Prince.” He laughed, wanting to reach out and take her hand in his again.

“But your names not really Jamie?” Claire crossed the room, taking in every portrait.

“Oh it certainly is, well, it’s James but everyone calls me Jamie.”

“But you’re no apprentice.” She spun to face him, this time she was the one who reached for his hand.

“I’m an apprentice monarch… still learnin’ my trade.” He squeezed her hand in his and then looked shyly down at his feet, “Forgive me. I thought ye might treat me differently if ye knew. I mistook ye for a good honest country girl. Now I see you dinna want to overrule a plain solider.”

“Little chance of that.” Claire said and he met her gaze.

“No more surprises?” He asked. It seems she was a Princess after all, her dress and presence simply oozed with the air of a Princess.

“No more surprises.” Claire shook her head quickly and then turned them to face the largest portrait hanging on the wall. “Is that you Jamie?”

“Aye, I hate myself in portraits, don’t you?”

“No ones ever painted my portrait,” Claire said and she felt Jamie’s eyes on her then.

“No? Well they should.” Claire blushed and bit her lip as he pulled on her arm, leading them out another door.

“Won’t they miss you at the ball?” Claire turned to see if anyone was in fact following them but didn’t see anyone.

“Maybe, but let’s no’ go back just yet.” Jamie gripped her hand tightly as he led them outside.

“Why don’t you want to go back? What’s wrong?” Claire sensed that there was something more that Jamie wasn’t telling her.

“Och, when I go back, they’ll try to pair me off with a lass of their choosin’. Ye see, I’m expected to marry for advantage.”

“Oh, well who’s advantage?” Claire asked.

“That… is a good question.��� Jamie sighed next to her.

“Surely you have a right to your own heart Jamie.” As she said this, Claire reached out and placed her hand over his heart.

Jamie was sure she could feel just how fast his heart was beating just then.

“I must weigh that against the King’s wishes, he’s a wise ruler and a loving Da.” Jamie pulled her hand to his mouth and placed a delicate kiss against her knuckles.

“Perhaps he’ll change his mind.” Claire said hopefully.

“I fear he doesna have much time to do so.” His eyes watered thinking of his Da’s latest diagnosis.

“Oh Jamie,” Claire pulled him into her arms, hugging him with all the strength she could muster.

“Thank ye Sassenach.” He kissed her forehead and they both blushed. Jamie didn’t even expect himself to do that.

“Follow me, I want to show ye somethin’” He grinned and then walked through a wall of vines. He held them aside for Claire as she entered.

They stood in a garden, surrounded by thousands of flowers and other plants, Claire could even hear the sound of a small waterfall somewhere nearby.

“Oh it’s beautiful!” She exclaimed.

“It was my Ma’s garden. I’ve never shown this to anyone before.” Jamie smiled sheepishly at her.

Claire spotted a giant swing hanging from a large tree just across the garden and then looked over at Jamie and smiled, raising her eyebrows in question.

“Aye.” Jamie answered her unspoken question and led them to the swing. “Sit and I’ll push ye Sassenach.”

Claire was careful not to trip over the many layers of her gown as she sat down. She felt her heart in her stomach as Jamie’s strong hands came to her waist.

He pushed against her gently and she began swinging back and forth. The night was lit with stars adding the magic of the evening.

A few more pushes from Jamie and Claire was soaring even higher. “Oh!” She gasped as she felt her slipper slide off her foot and fall to the ground below.

Jamie reached for the swing and slowed her down to a stop. “I’ll help ye Sassenach.” He urged her not to move as he came to kneel before her. Claire held out her foot for him as he picked up the glass shoe.

“Is this glass?” He eyed the shoe with a worried expression, “How do ye walk?”

“Carefully.” Claire joked and he slid the shoe on with ease.

Jamie stood and pulled her to her feet then, his arms finding their place at the small of her back. “Sassenach, I’m so glad ye came tonight. Yer all I can think about, all I dream about.”

“Oh Jamie, I have thought of nothing else but you. With everything that has happened to me in these last few months…you… have always been the constant.” Claire’s heart raced and pounded in her ears.

He leaned closer to her and she thought just then her heart was going to burst.

“I very much want to kiss ye?” He asked, “May I?”

And then her heart did burst, “Yes, you may.”

Jamie bent his head, closing the space left between them and gently pressed his lips against hers.

This was her first kiss. And it was with a Prince. It was with Jamie.

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate for him to come closer and he did. The kiss was slow, their lips moving in time with one another, anticipating the other’s desire and every move.

If Claire didn’t believe in fairytales before then she did now. Standing here under the stars in a garden filled with beautiful flowers, kissing a handsome man that comforted her and eased her soul.

Claire never wanted the kiss to stop but pulled back from Jamie as she heard the sound of clock. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! I almost forgot. It’s midnight.”

“Yes, it is.” Jamie said, curious of her to note the time.

“I’m so sorry, I had a lovely time but I must leave.” Claire squeezed his hands one last time and looked up at the clock, sure enough it was midnight and she needed to leave before she was transformed back to the plain girl she was before.

“But - but Sassenach! Where ye goin’?” Jamie shouted, stunned at her abrupt departure.

“I’m sorry!” Claire shouted back at him, already racing out of the garden. She found her way out of gates and to the front stairs where she spotted her carriage waiting for her.

“Oh Christ!” She said and began the long journey down the stairs. As she made it almost to the bottom of the steps she heard Jamie shouting after her, “Sassenach, wait!”

“Oh Jamie, I’m sorry.” She whispered to herself and dared a glance back at him.

When she turned back her foot caught on the step and her shoe slipped off. Claire bent to pick it up but noticed the footsteps sounded closer, Jamie was coming after her. She abandoned the glass slipper on the step and raced to the carriage, making it in the nick of time.

“Go!” She shouted and off she went, leaving the Prince, Jamie standing at the bottom of the steps, clutching her glass slipper in his hands.

[thepelagoislands]

Fable Festival (Arcadia) || January 20th - 28th

In the center of Arcadia, right in front of City Hall, join the island for a festival entirely dedicated to books and fables, The Fable Festival! Along the main celebration area, feel free to partake in a free, open library with plenty of books to choose from. There are plenty of benches and, thankfully, several mages have made it so the area within the festival is warm enough to comfortably be outside in the middle of the winter. Isn’t magic grand?

As always, while the festival lasts about a week IRL, the actual festival is only one entire day in RP. So keep that in mind when you’re going about your festival shenanigans.

However, the main attraction to the Fable Festival is not the open library. Also happening in the middle of the festival is something called the Role Card Game.

Role Card Game

The Role Card Game is a game where the players are supposed to act as closely to a role they are assigned as they can. Players sign up in advance, and the day before the festival, they are mailed the role that they are to play while they are on the festival grounds. Players are asked to come dressed up in clothes befitting their role and to do their best to stay in character the entire game. There is also a small corner of the area that is designated as The Jail. Also along a small table in the center of the area are several safe props that participants can use; just about anything you imagine you’ll need will be there.

At the tail end of the festival, a poll will be opened for everyone to vote on who acted out their role the best throughout the game. The winner of this poll will receive 10,000G, a special item, and a book. Both the item and the book will be revealed at the conclusion of the festival.

The Role Card Game will be hosted in the PI Discord server. If your character doesn’t sign up for a role, they can still participate in the chat. The participants must interact with non-role characters as if they are regular townsfolk, so non-participants can feel free to walk in at any time!

Everyone who signs up will receive a role! While there are thirty roles initially, if we have more people signed up, we will begin adding more roles to match the amount of players. Roles are randomly assigned a day before the festival, on January 19th, so players can find outfits and post reactions to their character’s assignement!

Roles:

The King: A very laid-back man who loves food and is head over heels for The Queen. Will usually follow The Cook around asking for more food.

The Queen: The person actually running the kingdom, and is the definition of an Ice Queen. Tends to call the guards on anyone who even looks at her the wrong way. Is having an affair with The Red Knight.

The Princess: Dresses like a prince and enjoys seducing all of the women who come around. She does not like to be tied down and is afraid of commitment.

The Prince: A very rude and spoiled prince who treats everyone around him like peons. Does what he wants and will call the guards if anyone disrespects him.

The Aristocrat?: A member of a noble family from a faraway kingdom. Is actually a peasant girl trying to marry rich and doesn’t know what all of these royal traditions or mannerisms are. She tries so hard.

The Red Knight: A loyal servant to The Queen and tends to obey her every command. Having an affair with The Queen. Can arrest people. Is also secretly planning on killing The King.

The Blue Knight: The King’s personal body guard. Is smitten by The Princess and is constantly asking The King and anyone who will listen for romantic advice. Can arrest people.

The Cook: Is always hiding from The King, looking for a break. Is married to The Royal Cow Herder.

The Royal Cow Herder: Is very proud of their cows and always enjoys showing off their cows to anyone who will listen. Very dedicated to protecting and caring for their cows. Married to The Cook.

The Cow: An actual cow. Enjoys grazing on grass.

The Cow?: Actually a thief in a cow costume. They want to steal as much as they can from the castle...but can’t blow their cover as a cow.

The Maid: Very dedicated to serving anyone who comes by. Almost too dedicated at times.

The Butler: Actually plotting to eventually overthrow The King. Is in love with The Prince.

The Royal Jester: Tasked with entertaining the royal family. Loves making just about anyone smile. Is especially in love with the Maid.

The Fairy: A fairy who can only be seen by The Royal Magician. Constantly playing pranks on people around them.

The Royal Magician: Enjoys experimenting with various potions and loves finding new test subjects for their spells. Unfortunately, everything always backfires on her. Is always trying to impress The Hunter.

The Stable Boy: Started working at the castle with the one goal of freeing the animals. Will constantly try freeing any animal in the vicinity. Including cows.

The Hunter: A hunter who is in town to sell furs. Is exceptionally handsome and constantly has people fawning over him. However, he is married to the forest. He is not interested in anything else.

The Town Crier: Usually calls out the usual news. However, he’s lost his scroll. So now he has to make up the news on the spot.

The Pickle Man: A man with a pickle stand. He is constantly trying to sell his pickles to anyone who even gets close to him. His pickles are actually disgusting.

The Fallen Aristocrat: A member of a noble family who has been disgraced and has to live a peasant’s life. Still can’t tolerate peasant life. Is looking to marry The Aristocrat? to regain social status.

The Town Doctor: Actually evil. Eventually plans to poison the royal family, though still needs to assemble the right amount of minions to fully execute his plan. Otherwise a swell guy.

The Peasant?: Actually the Harvest Goddess disguised as a peasant to test people for their charity. Has become smitten by The Fallen Aristocrat on her travels.

The Blacksmith: A very lazy individual who is always slacking on the job. Tends to sleep anywhere and everywhere. Tends to make everyone else wonder...where’s the blacksmith?

The Drunk Bard: A travelling bard who has gotten completely intoxicated at the bar and is on the hunt for more drinks. Will sing songs about anything, anyone, and at any time.

The Fairy Godmother: Helped The Aristocrat? get all dressed up like royalty. Is trying her best to make sure The Aristocrat? has a great time.

The Priest: He’s here to listen to everyone confess their sins and take donations for a shiny new church. Maybe he’s trying a bit too hard to get donations...

The Robin Hood: He steals from the rich and gives to the poor. And also flirts with beautiful young women along the way.

The Baker: A dutiful baker who just wants to sell bread and love his wife. Give this man A Break.

The Baker’s Wife: Helps The Baker with selling bread, but is also lowkey sizing up The Prince. 

The Squire: A very diligent apprentice to The Red Knight. Tends to stick very closely to The Red Knight and pays very close attention to the rules of knighthood.

The Royal Seamstress: Creates masterful clothes for the royal family. Is very judgmental of your clothes. Obviously, everyone else is wearing it wrong.

The Scribe: Writes down and records all major events that go on. His hearing is unfortunately going very bad, so he mishears everything he writes down.

The World Traveler: A traveler from a faraway land who only wants to see the world and what it has to offer. Surprisingly very naiive and will trust everyone at face value. 

The Lover: Seems to fall in love with someone new every hour or so, maybe even less. Has a lot of love to give, and can’t just contain it to one person. 

The Dancer: A street performer who specializes in dancing. Unfortunately, has two left feet when it comes to dancing.

The Mystic?: A local loon who fully believes that they are in possession of a magical force that nobody can comprehend. Enjoys boasting about their powers and threatening people with it.

The Mystic: Actually is in possession of a magical force that nobody can comprehend. However, doesn’t want to do anything good or evil with it. Is childhood friends with The Mystic? and will use their powers to make it look like The Mystic?’s power.

The Animal Whisperer: Can talk to animals, and has countless animals following them around. Has given all of their animal friends a name and will give new names to every animal in their path.

The Pirate: An actual pirate who has come to take money, seduce women, and do all of those pirate-y things. You might have heard of him before...

The Baguette Boy: Has a baguette that he prances around with. Nobody is quite sure why.

The Royal Steed: An actual horse. The Blue Knight and The Red Knight may gallantly ride The Royal Steed around.

The Prisoner: Is in jail for stealing from the royal family. A very sneaky fellow who is constantly trying to get people to help him break out of jail.

Roles will be added if sign-ups exceed 30 players, and certain roles will be cut if less than 30 players sign-up.

Here are the current participants:

Lily

Aurelia

Klaus

Vivi

Ella

Alice

Gerard

Minori

Wizard

Hart

Kathy

Elli

Candace

Elise

Elliott

Karen

Evelyn

Violet

Matai

Chase 

Marian

Georgia

Raguna

Mist

Mary

Abigail

Lumina

Soseki

Russell

Popuri

Laney

Denny

Alisa

Aden

Angela

Andrea

Pandora

Kasumi

Agate

Clorica

Pia

Leon

Witch Princess (Nessa)

Blue Feather Challenge

As this is an Arcadian festival, it is usual for some citizens to wander over to take the BLUE FEATHER CHALLENGE! On Arcadia, it is tradition to propose with a Blue Feather, which can be typically found on a Harvest Goddess statue on the top of Mt. Reinier. Since the statue is on a place inaccessible on foot, it is tradition for someone to climb up the mountain to retrieve it, dodging the falling rocks that frequently tumble down the mountainside.

In order to climb Mt. Reinier, you’ll have to GO INTO THE MINIGAME CHATZY AND INPUT THIS LINE THREE TIMES:

/choose climb, rock, climb, climb, climb, rock, climb

YOU MUST GET CLIMB ALL THREE TIMES TO MAKE IT TO THE TOP. If you get a rock, you are hit by one of Mt. Reinier’s famous falling rocks and plummet to the ground. You are free to attempt this challenge TWICE during the festival!