#princess lark

[miniscule-meow]

Something Unexpected (16)

Writing Masterpost

Part 1

Part 15

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Wordcount: ~2.3k

~*~*~*~

The party for their engagement finally rolls around. The staff around the castle had been in a dither about it for weeks. Day after day Princess Larkspur has had to sit, literally chained to a table making decisions that really have no point whatsoever. It was completely asinine. A group of ladies crowd around the table showing her different swatches of fabric, holding different gatherings of flowers. They ask millions of questions, what’s the color scheme, what type of flowers does she prefer, how should the table settings look, what color should the napkins be. They went on and on and on. It made her want to chew her own leg off so she could finally be free of the bindings and just fly out of there. She wanted to scream, “I don’t care!” at the top of her lungs, over and over again.

But she quells her frustrations thinking back to the conversation that Prince Oliver had with her. He told her to play by his rules and to be on her best behavior and that might earn her some better treatment. Do the opposite, and it isn’t hard to see how things could become so much worse. So, she figures she might be able to earn herself some extra freedoms here by playing nice. And besides, it might impress the right people if she does a good job, and that might earn her extra freedoms as well. At this point, she would do nearly anything to not have to wear the golden chain and be escorted around the palace.

The guards walk her about like some kind of dog, it is humiliating. At the very least, these ladies appear to be valuing her opinion. No matter how annoying it is, they are actually listening to her, she has to give them that. She is being treated like a proper princess, fulfilling the duties she is called to do. Apparently, if she had grown up in this cursed, backwards human society, this is the very thing any young girl would dream about doing. So, she picked floral arrangements, and she picked colors. She even entertained the subject of tablecloths and napkins for about two hours.

It takes the whole day for everyone to get her ready for the party. Her makeup is done for her, in her opinion it is entirely too detailed to be seen by any of the humans in attendance, but no one asks her. Her hair is twisted half up in an several elegant braids that come together elaborately into a neat bun, the rest is left flowing over her back in copper waves. She wears a green dress that is honestly stunning. It hugs her waist just so, and the skirts flow gently to her ankles. The front has a high halter neckline with a plunging golden mesh section that goes down nearly to her bellybutton. The back is nonexistent, allowing her wings free range of movement behind her.

Her wings shimmer with fine fairy-made jewelry that doesn’t incumber her flight, not that she imagines she’ll be doing much flying. She is absolutely dripping with jewels. The whole outfit is of course ruined by the golden band that is locked onto her ankle as she steps out of the room set aside for the fairies. Prince Oliver meets her at the door.

“Princess.” His voice is low, and formal. He barely even looks at her. He’s handed her chain and he simply attaches her to his lapel. “You may rest upon my shoulder.” He says this in a way that doesn't seem to be a suggestion.

Her stomach turns knowing that she spent all day getting all done up like this, just to be an accessory on his jacket. She’ll have to be his perfect little boutonniere. She grimaces and perches herself on his shoulder as he directed her to, unsure of where else she would even go.

This is going to be incredibly boring. She thinks dryly as Prince Oliver leads her into the grand ball room. Music is playing lightly from a string quartet across the room. So many humans are already milling about. The lady’s dresses all look heavy and dull, the men’s suits look incredibly stiff. This certainly isn’t a party for fairies. Lark isn’t convinced that this is even what a party for humans is supposed to be.

It’s so dull, everything is so rigid. Especially watching the humans perform their so-called dances. Everyone moves about like clockwork. Everything is so specific and planned. Of course, she cannot join in. She asked Prince Oliver if he wanted to dance, and he huffed a short mirthless laugh in response. She supposes she is much too small to participate, so she is stuck observing from the sidelines. At least Prince Oliver has to sit and watch and be just as bored as she is.

The night dredges on at a snail’s pace. People crowd around them, talking to the prince, and ignoring her completely. Or, they step too close to coo over her like she’s some exotic hamster with wings. Some cringe at her from a distance, as though she were some over-sized moth. She catches a group of ladies sneering over at her, then giggling and whispering to one another. Certainly they’re jealous that a “little thing” like her could have taken the prince’s hand away from them. Not that they would have had a chance anyway. Lark is very impressed that she is able to keep herself from rolling her eyes. I would gladly trade places with you, if I could. She thinks bitterly.

The monotony of the party drags on, but the worst part absolutely has to be the eating. All the humans are gathered together at one long banquet table. She is ceremoniously unpinned from her captor’s- or rather- her prince’s lapel, and she is affixed to her own place at the table. She is just on the table, level with the plates. They couldn’t be bothered to give her an elevated place, though they did make a single table her size for her to sit at. She supposes she should be grateful for that at least.

She feels an aching loneliness inside her heart. How grand it could have been, where her prince not a tyrant, where this kingdom not so monstrous. This party could have intermingled fairies and humans together in one crowd. This party could have symbolized a coming together of the kingdoms. This party could have actually been fun. But no. She is the lone fairy in the crowd, an oddity, a prize that has been won. This is only punctuated by her sitting alone in a sea of humans looking down on her, if they decide to pay any mind to her at all.

Before her is a mass of shifting hands, and walls of bodies. Everything is so loud. Cutlery scraping over plates, everyone is shouting and laughing and chewing. A hundred things are happening all at once, and she feels like she might explode.

It all comes to a head in one slow-motion moment. A glass is carelessly tipped over, spilling its contents all over her. It soaks her beautiful emerald gown with wine and the rolling glass shoves her little table clear to the floor. She flies up, out of the way of the glass, and is quickly smacked out of the air, engulfed in a palm. She is whisked up and away from the danger but the chain connecting her to the table snags taut and jerks her leg painfully. She lets out a small shout as Prince Oliver mumbles a curse under his breath.

She realizes all at once that this is the first time that he’s held her. Every other time they have interacted he has elected to touch her as little as possible. A guard would place him where he wanted her, and deal with her chains. Perching on his shoulder earlier today was the closest they had been. But now, his fingers completely surround her. He holds her just a little too tight. She feels her heart hammering against her chest, her wings pressed uncomfortably, but not painfully, against herself. She finds it hard to breathe with her face squished against his massive digits and his fingers constricting her ribs. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to pretend that she isn’t being semi-suffocated by his clumsy fingers. She supposes she should be glad that she doesn’t have to bear the weight of a table full of humans resting their eyes solely on her. Think positively Lark.

Once he gets her unchained, he holds her cupped in both hands, like a child that has just caught a firefly. He excuses himself and carries her off, away from the noise of the party.

He plops her soggy form down onto a bathroom counter, letting the chain fall limp around her. The first thing he does is not check on her. Instead, he first washes his hands, drying them before taking off his jacket and setting it neatly aside. She looks down at her dripping gown, trying to wring out some of the wine as he rolls up his sleeves. He turns the faucet on once more, testing the water temperature with a finger before he collects her in his hand. Wordlessly, he brings her under the stream of water.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” She shouts, completely soaked through. He jerks her backwards, out of the water as she sputters.

“What? Too hot?” He reaches a hand forward to check the water temperature again. She pushes wet hair out of her face to more properly glare at him.

“No! You are trying to drown me!” She shouts, all of the fear and humiliation from the night threatening to boil over in this moment

“I am not. I am just trying to help.” He furrows his brow down at her, setting her down with a wet plop and shutting off the faucet. Obviously, he doesn’t understand how being held in a loose fist and doused under a waterfall would not be helping the situation.

“You are not helping! This is so much worse! How would this not be worse?!” She flexes and balls her hands a few times, trying to calm herself down, trying not to cry. “Can’t you just take me back to the room and let me put something else on? This dress is ruined, my hair is ruined, my makeup is ruined.” She huffs, exasperated. “I’m fine, by the way. Not that you asked." She glowers a moment before adding "And my leg hurts, thanks to you and your stupid chain, but aside from all that, I guess I’m fine!” She’s shaking with rage.

Prince Oliver doesn’t even apologize. He frowns down at her, and nods. He dries his hands and collects his jacket. He picks up the end of her chain, like he’s going to walk with her down the hall like the guards to. If she were his size she thinks she would try to strangle him.

“Well?” He says, obviously impatient.

“I. Can’t. Fly.” She shoots back, obviously equally impatient.

“What do you mean you can’t fly?” He furrows his brow again. He does that a lot, she hopes he gets wrinkles.

“I mean I can’t fly! My wings are soaked, but who’s fault is that.” She sneers up at him.

“Tch. Fine.” He collects her in his hands again. It’s just as uncomfortable as it was the first time. Maybe even more so considering that she’s absolutely drenched now. It's clear that doesn’t like holding her. Well good. She thinks, because she doesn’t like being held.

She gets herself cleaned up, with the help of her ladies in waiting. They all of course want to know what happened, and after that they just want to gossip about the party. It must all be so romantic and exciting to them. She grimaces, but lets them keep their fantasy. Rose colored glasses and all.

They dry her wings, put her hair up in an attempt to mask how wet it is, and her makeup is re-done. She wears a new dress. This one is powder blue with sheer puffy sleeves that come to a cuff at her wrists. The top ties behind her neck, but the bodice is corseted below her wings. The skirt billows around her, though stops just below her knees. Oh, these humans will be so scandalized when they can see her ankles and her shins. Good, she hopes it makes one of them faint.

She is escorted back to the door, there is a landing in the human sized door where a fairy sized door is cut out. As she reaches for the doorknob she catches the tail end of a conversation.

“…A shame that you have to babysit that little insect.” It’s a woman’s voice. Prince Oliver grumbles something in response, but notably does not defend her. “You must not be having any fun at all.” She can hear the pout in her voice through the door.

“It’s not about me. It’s about my kingdom.” He says nobly, Lark rolls her eyes while she can. She clenches her jaw and quietly peaks out the door. She sees the prince and some lady that she might have met in passing at the party. She’s pressed up against him, her arms slung over his shoulders, he has his arms caught around her waist and is holding her close to him. Lark quickly retreats back behind the door, her stomach twisting itself into knots. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that her and that monster could fall in love or anything, but the realization drops in the pit of her stomach. This is how it is going to be. He will have his love, and she will be the decoration adorning his lapel. What a sorry existence.

But what he said is true for her as well. It isn’t about her. It’s about her kingdom. The sacrifice of her freedom right now is saving all of the innocent families back home from unimaginable suffering. The tension between her kingdom and the human’s kingdom was only getting worse and this arrangement brings peace.

If she was being honest, it could be worse. She could be locked in a metal cage; she could be starved; she could be dead. She’s still a princess. She goes to banquets; she wears fine gowns. So what if she’s kept on a leash and has no one to talk to. It’s for her kingdom. She nods thinking to herself, Alright. peptalk over, lets go finish this heinous night.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 64

Jaskier has been cursed to turn into a Lark during the day for years now. It makes following his dreams very difficult, what with a lark not being able to carry a lute nor his money pouch, but he just waits to move at night, when the magic turns him back into his human form. Which means he technically has a very awful sleep schedule, but that's not what we're focusing on. Jaskier is sat in a tree one afternoon, trying to sleep, when a horse neighs below him. He peeks down and to his surprise sees a witcher. A witcher! What stories he must have! Jaskier must follow him so that he can ask him questions once he becomes human again! So a very sleepy bird follows after Geralt, twittering and singing all the while. Geralt evidently notices, but ignores the bird for the most part. That is, until the bird lands on Roach's back. Geralt sighs. These birds will stop at nothing... He reaches into his pack, and plucks off a few pieces of bread, and scatters them along the road behind them. He watches as the bird eagerly hops down and pecks at them. Jaskier isn't usually one for eating off the ground, but he's technically a bird right now, and he really mustn't let free food go to waste! It's only after he's finished his banquet that he notices the witcher has ridden off. Oh drat. He'll try and find him that night. When he's not so tired. The next day, Geralt is sat at his camp with Roach, and is surprised to see the same hungry lark as yesterday flying over to sit beside him. Geralt once again shares a bit of his food, and even gets to pet the bird's head. He admits he's grown a fondness for the little lark. That afternoon, just before the sun has set, Geralt is armored up and ready for a fight. Roach is tacked up, he has his potions, his swords, his lark, his oils, hi- Wait, his lark? The lark keeps insisting on following him, until he finally shoos it away with a firm "Don't come. It's dangerous." and the bird seems to understand. Geralt is unnerved at the implications, but he has a contract to attend to first.

Geralt wakes up the next morning, bloody and beaten, no longer high on potions. It was very nearly a pyrrhic victory, it seems. Geralt brushes himself off and looks at his surroundings and sees that the monster and him tore the forest up a bit during their tussle in the night. He's walking back to his camp when he spots it, a fallen tree, and next to it, his lark. Geralt races over, and sees that the tree is pinning the lark to the ground by one of it's wings. The lark opens it's eyes and chirps frantically at him, kicking it's little legs and batting it's free wing erratically. Geralt manages to get the lark unstuck and mends it at camp. He plans to see to the lark's healing, and then release it back into the wild. This is complicated by the lark turning into a man in the middle of his camp later that night.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

I can't really draw what's on my mind so here is the blueprint of my vision instead:

[jamiesfootball]

Always lowkey simmering a Leverage AU in the back of my head hear me out:

Ted is an ex-insurance investigator who was able to get his son life-saving medical treatment because his first, original Crime Pal Beard was like ‘Ted if your company doesn’t come through with the coverage, we’re doing things my way.’

The company did not come through. The company did let him go due to suspicion of Ted’s involvement in the incident, but Ted will happily remind folks that no charges were formally pressed. Henry is alive and healthy and living with Michelle, who divorced Ted shortly thereafter (not just because of pre-existing marital problems, but because Ted wouldn’t tell her anything about why the doctors “””suddenly decided to do the procedure for free”””). Shortly thereafter, Ted fled the country.

What Ted learned from the whole experience is that there’s a lot of people out there, good people just trying to live by the rules, but sometimes things happen that are just out of their control. And well- if we’ve got the means to help the good people out when no one else will, then shouldn’t we try?

“We’ve got means,” Beard agrees. “And motives.”

They do things Beard’s way now.

[llumimoon]

Did NOT have time to draw Henry birthday art today so instead take this wip of Hen and Mercedes first meeting in an AU of mine <3 tehe

[justdealingwithsomeissues]

Power Princess and Hyperion are supposed to be nearly invulnerable... but this dude who is called... the Angler... sigh... anyway, he is so sharp he is able to just slice them open... Also, PP can just, will herself together for a time I guess.

[oakthcrn]

friendship / ships tags. Will be updating as Lark makes more friends &lt;;3 If interested in a platonic / romantic ship with Lark give this post a like and I will make up a tag.

X means romantic ship And means friendship

this is what i got so far:

@selunyte @nightmdic @aercnaut @inabsentiia @dalishflame @forgedinfernal @proofwhisky @shiilelagh @bhaalswn @korzion @valistheanshield @luposcainus

[blackalisondilaurentis1996]

what do you mean I can’t live in a fantasy world where the houses are made of chocolate and rooftops made of strawberry loaf cakes??

[bringbackwendellvaughn]

[donnatroyprincessofthemyscira]

[writermuses]

@marimelwrites

[doctorslippery]

Herbie Crespo

[thelastofthebookworms]

My tag for this series is 'fairy tales'.

[prim-moth]

Little girls squad!! @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile @iamjessemccartney

[eskawrites]

you have no idea how seriously i’m contemplating making some tenar/lark fanart. they live in my head.

UM i would die. just keel over right then and there

[tigirl-and-co]

Ganondorf for blorbo bingo.

Oh god oh fuck

I'm gonna do this for both WW and TP Gdorf lol. I love how diametrically opposed they are!!!

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Absolute rat bastard stinky garbage nasty nasty. I find him much less intriguing as a character, but very apt for the story he is meant to tell.

He became a minor deity in the twilight realm thanks to his power. Tp is THE Hijacked by Ganon game. His sneer? Unparalleled. Frankly, the sword fight against him still makes me clench every muscle in my body.

He is such a cocky bastard! And this incarnation doesn't recognize Link. He's like 'lol good job getting here, twink. You wanna fight me? Too bad! Here's the ruler of your country, kill her if you can!'

This ganondorf wants what is RIGHTFULLY his and he will do anything to achieve that. No matter how much time it takes...

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Hi. Um. I talk about him ad nauseam and it's because as soon as I dive back into Zelda my brain sticks to him like a bug on a windshield

He spent hundreds of years trapped underwater, contemplating how he came so close not once, but TWICE

And it changed him. He's no longer the violent, scorched earth tyrant of OoT. He has no desire to rule a wasteland. He could have killed those girls. Hell, he could have killed Link

And he should have.

But he saw them for what they were- children caught up in a cruel game. Link didn't have the triforce, he was just some kid being shoehorned into a role that needed filling.

When he attacks Zelda in the final fight, he sheathes his sword

It drives me fucking NUTS I am FOAMING AT THE MOUTH about it.

His realization that he didn't *want* to be a monster wasn't enough to turn him from his path. Of course it didn't. He was already a monster, he could not take that back.

When Daphnes makes his wish, Ganondorf is no longer fighting to win. To survive is beyond even him. He simply knows nothing else. So he fights his last fight on the grand stage of destiny, knowing neither he nor his people will be remembered.

The wind... it is blowing.