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sapphic-woes · 1 year

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Fortress of Roses - Chap. One

A/N: So this is what I've been blabbering about for a while now. My precious sappy lesbian historical romance :)

AO3 link

Summary: Rosalie Duravès is the daughter of the wealthiest noble in the kingdom. There's no one that wouldn't want a piece of his fortune, but the duke wants power in return. When Arabella Rex, the crown princess of Lothia, offers her hand in marriage he gets just that...whether Rosalie wants it too or not.

__________

“Father please, I hardly know anything about her, and what I have heard has been nothing but terrifying stories–”

My neck snapped to the right, and it took me a moment to understand why. By then, my entire body had already followed along with the force of his slap, and I hit the ground with a resounding thud.

"Insolent girl! Don't you understand what this opportunity means for us? The crown princess has asked for your hand in marriage, and I have accepted. That is final." I bit my bottom lip to hold back tears. My cheek was hot and tender under my quivering fingers, and I nodded slowly before the cane in front of me. Impatiently, it slammed into the ground and I flinched.

"Y-yes Father."

"If it were your sister I wouldn't have to worry, but instead Arabella asked for a common fool like you. Clearly, she prefers a woman with little presence. It won't be at the palace, Arabella wants the wedding to be more quiet, no doubt to have as few eyes on you as possible." A noise of protest slipped past my lips as my chin was held and roughly jerked up. Cold eyes full of distaste stared me down, and it was hard to believe they belonged to my own father.

"You will marry her, and you will do as she says. They want our money, and we want their power. Once you consummate the marriage, you'll stay in this estate unless she calls for you. Neither of us wants you under the public eye to go about making a laughing stock of both our families. This is your one and only chance Rosalie…do not make me regret keeping you alive till now." At my nod the duke finally released me, walking out of my room.

"Good, and if you ruin this? I'll kill you myself." The door shut with a violent bang, and I was left to sit on the floor in silence. Frantically, I tried to process what had just happened.

The crown princess? Arabella Rex was, as the servants whispered, the living fortress of our kingdom. Seven years ago war broke out between Lothia and the opposing kingdom of Thez. At sixteen years of age, the crown princess was already leading her own army against the enemy, and by the end of the war her reputation was well known throughout Lothia. Arabella was as respected as she was feared, and surely there was nothing the princess wanted that she couldn't have…so why was she settling for someone like me?

In comparison, my reputation was rather meager. I was an illegitimate daughter, and my mere existence was looked down upon. As such, my father rarely allowed me to leave the castle, preferring to go to social events with my beloved sister Eden instead. The last major ball I had been to was my own debut, and I doubted anyone remembered what I even looked like now.

Not like they would care to know anyway.

Unlike Eden I wasn't strikingly beautiful, and without much practice I was unable to hold the simplest conversations, let alone carry an air of grace like my sister did. I wasn't anything like how a noble lady should be, and in the end I was utterly useless to our family. It would only be a matter of time before Arabella noticed it too, and when she inevitably divorced me?

I shivered, remembering the eyes of my father. His threat hadn't been a lie. If I didn't follow along and try my best to keep this marriage intact…

Surely, he would end up killing me.

______________

The ride to the church was overwhelming. The carriage's jostling was nauseating, and despite my Father claiming it would be "quiet," the sheer amount of people calling out my name forced me to shrink away from the window. Opposite me, my father scowled.

“You must smile and wave. You are to be the wife of the Queen one day. If you can't do something as simple as this–”

“Father please, Rose just needs time to adjust.” My lovely sister, Eden, calmly spoke, voice like a calming breeze over my father’s temperament. She was always quick to come to my aide, placing her hand over my own.

“Breathe, sister. There will be fewer people once we get inside.” Stiffly, I nodded, and she offered me a kind smile before she turned to her own window to offer the commoners a wave. At this rate they’d mistake her for the bride instead, but I was too focused on calming my nerves for the remainder of the ride to worry about that.

Even with my jumbling thoughts, I could still recognize that the church was beautiful. Arches hung high above our heads, and stained glass glistened under the evening sun. It was surely a place people waited years to have their wedding in, yet my father had reserved it within a few weeks. I felt terrible knowing he'd wasted the extra money on me.

I told myself not to trip as my father escorted me out of the carriage. My dress weighed a thousand pounds, and glimmering lace trailed behind me. The knights waiting to guard our path into the church fixed me with steely glares. They were dressed differently than most knights, with colors reminiscent of the royal family. Were they under Arabella's command? Why did they already look insulted to see me? Worried, I averted my gaze, hand tightening over the bouquet of white roses I held.

Slowly, we walked through the line of knights and into the church. The diamonds on my neck burdened my heaving chest, and seeing what lay before me didn’t make it any easier to breathe.

It was a sea of nobles I did not know. How was this a small wedding? Even without the majority of nobles here, there was still more than enough. Their piercing gazes made my stomach twist, clearly assessing every inch of my appearance. What if I wasn't to their liking? Or more importantly, hers? The thought had my eyes looking past everyone else before I could stop myself. At the sight of her, I took in a sharp breath.

No amount of gossip I’d overheard would have prepared me for the intensity of her eyes, deep blue fixating on my own. She wore a white decorated tunic, dark hair tied up into a simple ponytail. Her face was hard, and I couldn’t tell what she thought of me. Suddenly, the grip the duke had on my hand grew painful. Father graciously smiled at the crowd of nobles standing to watch us walk down the aisle, yet his sneering whisper was all I could hear.

“Fix that miserable look on your face, before you cause everything to fail.” I nodded, forcing down my bubbling fear. My eyes cast down, assessing my shoes as I neared the altar. Whispers bounced around me, but I tried to block them out. Finally, my father's hand left mine, and I swallowed as I took the final steps to stand beside Arabella. To my relief, the princess didn't look at me.

“We gather here today to witness the joining of two souls under the eyes of the Lord…” Was this really happening? The priest’s voice echoed in tandem with my own heart. I was going to marry this woman, and I hardly even knew her. My chest was tight with panic, and I could barely focus as the priest spoke.

“Arabella Rex, will you take Rosalie Duravès as your wife, and vow to protect her till the end of your days?” I didn’t realize how still the princess was until then. I stiffened as she took a deep breath, and with my downcast gaze, I caught her hand squeezing into a fist. Her fingers were littered with many scars, each shifting as she moved.

She relaxed, and I swallowed.

“I do.” Arabella’s voice was a deep, velvet murmur. It was nothing like Eden’s, or the maids in our castle, or any woman I’d known so far. It was monotone and gave me no hints about her state of mind. The uncertainty only fueled my worries more. Why would she agree if she didn't want to do this? What exactly did she want from me? My heartbeat became frantic, and I struggled to stay standing.

“Rosalie Duravès, will you take Arabella Rex as your wife…” This was it. The veil hid my face, yet I still didn't dare look up, fearful it still wouldn't be enough. Despite my best efforts my face was contorting, and whatever expression I was making had to be full of anguish. I didn’t want this, and I didn’t want to imagine what my new life would be like. Before I could stop myself I shuddered, and I bit my bottom lip to hold in my voice as tears fell. The priest wavered when he noticed my silent sobbing, stuttering as he forced himself to continue.

“...a-and vow to follow her till the end of your days?” It sounded like a prison sentence rather than a romantic vow. It felt like one too. My hands tightened over the bouquet of roses I held. The thorns had been trimmed off, but regardless I hoped one or two were still there to cut me. The pain never came.

I squeezed until my fingers grew numb, and fresh tears fell as I shut my eyes and forced myself to speak.

“I do.”

#writeblr #original writing #am writing #oc: rosalie #oc: arabella #rosabella #honestly dunno how tf to tag this #luv my cringey title lol

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eruden-writes · 1 year

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@vaya-mernda

Ahaha, the Keep one is very very old. I copy-pasted it from a word doc to Google Docs in 2018, but I'm pretty sure it's older than that.

The Hand one I might sit on and save for next Valentines or some other holiday.

Anywho, here's pretty much all I have written up for Rosabella and Lyvir's story. (I have plenty of plotting in my head/written down elsewhere, though.)

idk why, but the formatting is acting all weird when I copy this over. So just be warned.

Brave Sir Gallagher charged into the crumbling stone tower, his sword aloft as a guttural cry tore from his throat. His armored boots clanked on the flagstones of the large keep, echoing along the walls. His boots crunched over his fallen predecessors as he kept his gaze locked to the sunset orange dragon who lay before him. The reptilian beast basked lazily in sunlight, falling in from a large hole in the ceiling. As the clamor of steel filled the air, the dragon cracked open a golden eye.

The scent of sweat and metal and sulfur mixed in Sir Gallagher's nose, piquing his fear and survival instincts. The knight's thoughts reeled. Why didn't the beast move? Why hadn't it jumped up and blown a shaft of fire from its maw? Was it sick? Was it decrepit? No matter. He had a duty to his King.

Suddenly, something thick and orange slammed into the knight's chest. The sound of flesh and metal resonated through the air as all breath fled Sir Gallagher's lungs. Shrieking hissed in his ears as his armor skidded across the stones, a few feeble sparks elicited from the friction. The man scrabbled to his feet, his sword held high. Dazed and regaining his breath, Sir Gallagher realized the dragon's tail had dented his chest plate as metal dug into his expanding breast.

The glittering of citrine scales caught the knight's gaze. The dragon slithered into a standing position, snorting out rancid smoke from its large nostrils. Arisen, the immense beast took up nearly half of the keep's floor and seemed to stoop under the roof. Its red claws – rumored to be stained with the blood of many knights – scraped against the stone floor, scratching deeper gouges into the rock. Deep in its throat, a growl resonated, tickling the deepest parts of Sir Gallagher's terrified animal instincts.

His fingers curled tighter around his sword, soaking in confidence the weapon wrought. It was a present from the great wizard of His Majesty's court. It would be Sir Gallagher's trump card, his gambit, and his key to success.

The man sneered, before letting out another battle cry. “Prepare to die, foul creature!”

Sir Gallegher rushed the dragon, sword drawn high and his boots clanking the tattoo of his pace. The beast batted him away with an immense paw, his claws carving careless gashes into the already-dented chest plate.

Again, the knight was sent flying. However, this time, his back plate of armor scraped a shriek against a supporting stone beam. Wind rushed from Sir Gallagher as stars twinkled in the corners of his vision. He staggered to his feet, huffing as sharp pain licked at his innards and sweat poured down his body. The dragon watched him, radiating both an air of superiority and of intense boredom. Sir Gallagher bristled beneath his metal shell, ignoring the humidity of his armor. His knuckles twisted his sword in his hand.

The wizard said only to use the power when he managed to get close enough to the dreadful beast to strike. Sir Gallagher's knuckles tightened around the hilt. Part of him wanted to wipe that air of smugness from the reptile's thoughts. Part of him purred about the element of surprise. At this rate, his armor would be pocked and dented; hardly fit to greet the princess with. Dragons, being haughty creatures, would never see the power coming, giving Sir Gallagher ample time to rush in and strike the beast dead.

Beneath his breath, the knight growled a single word. A roll of thunder sounded overhead and the dragon listed its head in curiosity. Bright green power hissed to life along the metal of the sword, dancing wildly along the steel. The air filled with the bite of magic and the orange dragon backed a step.

With a smirk, Sir Gallagher charged.

* * *

Lyvir scowled as he carried the unconscious princess in his talons. This was not part of the contract. In fact, he had no reason to save the princess when that bumbling knight destroyed the keep himself. A sword that could channel lightning. Lyvir snorted, two streams of smoke escaping his nostrils. In theory, it was a formidable weapon against a dragon. In practice, lightning coupled with magic made a vitriolic, unpredictable combination. What it left behind was a smoking mess of rock, metal, and wood, which had simply been known to nearby gossips as The Keep. Not to mention the ash that had once been a knight.

His wings beat against the upstream of air, wondering what foolish wizard gave the equally foolish knight such a weapon. Probably Sterling, the “great” wizard of King Thaneus's court. Another snort lit out of Lyvir's nostrils.

Against the pads of his forefeet, the woman stirred.

Lyvir suppressed a groan. With the Keep destroyed, the enchantment that forced the princess into intervals of deep sleep dissipated. They were close to his lair, but the woman would awaken much too soon for Lyvir to make it the rest of the way without risking her tumbling out of his claws. Angling down, he began his descent into a clearing nestled at the base of his mountain.

* * * It wasn't true love's kiss that awoke Princess Rosabella from her slumber. It was a sudden drop and the cold dew soaking into her dress that fully awoke her. A scream crept from the woman's lips, the sensation of falling disrupted her lengthy sleep. She bolted upright, ignoring the wetness clinging to her body. Her large brown eyes wheeled around the clearing, air locked in her lungs. A cool breeze lilted over her cheeks as she tried to make sense of her situation. In her months – or perhaps it was years? - of captivity, the woman experienced endless dreams and nightmares and groggy, minute, awakenings.

The ethereal sound of flesh shifting, a second of bones suddenly crunching into a smaller form, hissed through the air. Rosabella turned suddenly, catching the source of the sound.

Lyvir, the dragon who obeyed her captor, who assisted in her isolation and kept her locked up, was caught in mid-shift. The princess gaped as the enormous beast seemed to fold up and his color shift from bright orange to brown. Left in Lyvir's place was a man, tall and muscular, with a firm scowl fixed upon his lips. Orange hair, reminiscent of his coloring and the slight mane that dotted his neck as a dragon, stood out at wild angles from his head, messy and feral. The muscles beneath his flesh tensed under the princess's gaze.

“One of your would-be suitors destroyed The Keep, princess.” The dragon-turned-human tongued the last word as if it would bite him. Rosabella's attention turned toward his face. He clenched his fists, his sharpened nails digging into his palm. “I will be returning you to your kingdom, per protocol.”

“Wh-what?” Rosabella blinked, her mind foggy from enchanted sleep.

“Your father wished you to have the bravest and most worthy as a partner,” Lyvir inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He really wished the royals would inform their spawn of the contracts as requested. Too many of them found it easier to keep their children in the dark. “In order to do so, I played the part of vile beast and kept an eye on you.”

“Why?”

“Payment from King Thaneus.”

There was a beat of silence before Lyvir's words sunk in. Rosabella gasped, melodramatically, and scrambled to her feet. Her voice roughened with rage, snarled, “My father would never do such a thing!”

“Kings do it all the time, princess.” Lyvir shrugged as he breezed passed the young woman. He despised taking human form. It left him vulnerable and chilly. “My cave is near the base of the mountain. I have clothes to change into there.”

As the dragon waltzed away, Rosabella was left in the clearing, leering at an empty spot in the grass. Her brow furrowed while her mind raced for an explanation. Her father wouldn't be so cruel to pay someone to kidnap her, have a dragon guard her, to watch her as suitors bumbled into The Keep to die in an effort to save her! No, this had to be a ploy from the beast. With the shelter destroyed, any knight could waltz in and skewer his heart on a lance. Undoubtedly, the dragon meant to find another fortress to keep her prisoner.

If that were the case, what should she do?

Her brown eyes leered at the man, who hadn’t made it far. He picked his way through the clearing, stepping over fallen logs and branches, ignoring her.

Rosabella turned her gaze away from Lyvir. Beyond the forest, somewhere, was a merchant pass or a road. If she could find it and follow it, stumble into a village or a city, then maybe she'd see home again. The thought warmed Rosabella's heart with hope and joy. She took a step closer to the forest.

“Don't think about running.” Lyvir's voice sliced through the air and slapped Rosabella across the face. He paused at the edge of a cluster of trees. “Unless you want to try your hand against the bandits and ruffians.”

Rosabella glanced over her shoulder and deigned Lyvir with a sneer, “I can't see them being any worse than a dragon.”

A bitter laugh rang out of him, cold and grave. As Rosabella turned fully, her glare leveled at him, Lyvir's gold eyes sparked with challenge. He leaned slightly forward, narrowing his eyes. “Would you like to try your luck with them, then? I'm sure they'd love to give such a tasty morsel some company.”

The redhead turned away again and trudged his way through underbrush huddled beneath the canopy. Rosabella pursed her lips and glared after him. Her face warmed as the implication sunk into her thoughts. While asleep and guarded by a fearsome beast, she needn't worry about a cur getting to her. The thought sent a sick itch along her stomach. A breeze kicked up through the clearing, her damp dress sent another chill along her body.

Overhead, an overcast sky roiled with dark clouds. The threat of rain tinted the air and Rosabella stifled a shiver. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Her heart sank at the memory of long hours wasted, poring over her fantasy rescue in the moments of wakefulness. None of it entailed Lyvir living, fending off rain, nor a choice between defenseless travel or accompanying a dragon. Rosabella fought off bile as it climbed up her throat. Better off alive, even if captive, than abused or dead. She could find a safer moment to escape.

As a roll of thunder growled overhead, the princess turned on her heel and hurried after Lyvir. * * * Rain pounded outside while Lyvir retrieved clothes from a musky trunk. The dragon huffed as he riffled through his clothes, trying to find inconspicuous traveling attire: a pair of maroon pantaloons, that were in style a century ago; a shirt embroidered with golden thread that screamed 'rob me;' a maiden's moss green gown, slightly torn around the hem. As the silky fabric slid between his fingertips, Lyvir drew his gaze toward Rosabella.

She pouted in the corner, where Lyvir had left her. Her fingertips fiddled with the pelt beneath her while her deep brown gaze stared out into the storm. Outside the cave, water hurled against the ground in torrents. As if feeling the heat of his gaze, Rosabella turned to him, eyebrows lowered in irritation, “What?”

“Your dress.” Lyvir waved to the gown the young woman wore. Rosabella looked down at herself, cheeks burning as the dragon's eyes stared at her. Resplendent golden fabric, trimmed in golden beads, tiny glittering gemstones, and pearls. The color stood out against her tawny skin. The first time Rosabella put it on, her ladies-in-waiting told her it complimented everything; from her skin, to her hair, to her eyes, to her body type. Despite extended sleep, it still appeared as fresh and smooth as the day it left the seamstresses hands.

Rosabella huffed, crossing her arms over the suddenly-too-low neckline. “What about it?” “It’s too royal.” Lyvir found a pair of plain brown trousers and a cream-colored tunic. Placing his outfit to the side, he grabbed the green dress. With a flippant toss toward Rosabella, Lyvir muttered, “Put this on.”

Rosabella reached for the dress, which had barely missed her face. It was flimsy and thin, with obvious signs of once belonging to another. She winkled her nose, accustomed to receiving freshly tailored wardrobes. Her gaze flickered back to him, cheeks burning with indignation. How could he ask her to disrobe in front of him and demean her status with rags? “I am not putting this on!”

“Trust me, I won't look.” Lyvir scoffed as he tugged his pants on.

She clenched the fabric tightly in her fists.

“If I wanted to,” the dragon muttered after pulling the tunic on over his head. His green gaze found Rosabella's eyes, boring into them. “I could've looked and touched all I wanted while you slept, princess.”

Rosabella inhaled sharply, nausea rollicking through her guts as heat licked over her face. Her fingers reclaimed the dress, wringing it tightly between her digits. Weakly, she gasped, “D-Did you?”

Turned away, the dragon didn't see Rosabella's reaction. As he shoved his useless, fleshy feet into a worn pair of shoes, he absently asked, “Did I what?”

“Look or… touch,” Rosabella could hardly get the hushed words out. “While I slept.”

Lyvir's eyebrows cocked, his gaze slowly turning back to the princess. He didn't need his sharp eyesight to see the young woman's features pale. However, the storm flashed and rumbled in eager assistance.

The princess tensed, waiting as she listened to the scrape of his soles on the rock. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she tried to anticipate the news.

“No, taking advantage of anyone while they sleep is heinous.” Lyvir paused a foot away from the hunched princess. Rosabella turned a wide-eyed gaze to him, trying to spot a falsehood in his features. Pity softened his features, but Rosabella’s observation barely registered before his severity returned. Under her scrutiny, the man bristled, his cautious gentleness oozing away. “Human men are scum. I am not. Never confuse me with them.”

Rosabella's fingers fidgeted in the material of the dress. She couldn't stop the shivers that racked her body. Questions ricocheted around her head. How long had she been in that tower? Why had her father gone to such measures to ensure a preferential suitor? Or was Lyvir lying about her father's role in the scheme? Tears burned at the back of her eyes.

One thing at a time. She had to get home, or close to home, first. Though Lyvir didn’t seem insidious, she couldn’t be sure. Either way, she’d have to cooperate with him for the timebeing. Rosabella rose from her cushioned spot, casting her gaze around the small area of the cave. A few feet from her, boulders huddled together, creating a barrier between herself and the dragon-man.

“I’ll go change,” she murmured, heading for the makeshift screen. With each step, she tried desperately to recall the geography lessons her tutors instilled in her. Xxx As the princess struggled out of her elegant dress and into something plain, Lyvir prepared for the journey. He had found a mouse-eaten brown tunic in his cache of miscellaneous clothing.

Tearing it along a seam and tying the corners, he made a makeshift pack.

It had been a long time since he last traveled in his human form. As a dragon, he could fly great distances and prey on lesser creatures. In this useless form? He wasn’t sure how far he could manage. Lyvir resisted the urge to glance toward Rosabella, who still hid behind the rocks. Only her huffs and quiet curses – not very princesslike – indicated she hadn’t sped off into the stormy night.

Bringing his gaze to the spread out fabric, Lyvir considered the supplies they’d need. Food, of course. He could hunt in dragon form, but there was the risk of errant knights and do-gooders harassing him. The thought made his frown deepen. The area wasn’t dragon country; villagers were not used to seeing a great behemoth flying over them. Lyvir wanted to maintain a level of discretion.

“What are we going to do with my dress?” Rosabella’s words dragged Lyvir from the recesses of his thoughts.

His gold gaze flickered to the princess, before settling on the dress she clutched to her chest. It glittered like the gold in his hoard.

Money would be needed for travel. The great distance between the cave and Rosabella’s kingdom was fraught with rough terrain, formidable foes, and minor annoyances. Especially if he wanted to avoid the trouble of dragonhunters. Inns, meals, toll roads, supplies, and perhaps a horse. Lyvir’s gaze caught on the pearls and golden embroidery of Rosabella’s dress.

“Hand it here.” His hand shot out, palm up.

Rosabella complied, though her grip lingered. A longing filled her eyes as she stared at her dress, before she finally released it.

Without pomp, Lyvir began plucking the gold beads and pearls from the dress, like berries from a bush. The princess’s eyes widened in horror, struck speechless by the degradation of the dress. However, as Lyvir began tearing small gems from the embroidery with his nails, the princess regained her ability to speak. “What are you doing!”

Golden-green eyes drifted to her face, unconcerned with her outburst. Lyvir’s expression didn’t even twitch, though he did note Rosabella’s reddening complexion with inner amusement. “We’ll be trading the valuable bits of your dress for money.”

“It’s all valuable!”

“It’ll be easier to take these than to haul your dress everywhere.” Lyvir opened his hand, filled with beads and pearls and gems. “Plus, we can ration it out, this way."

Rosabella’s mouth popped open, body language tense, ready to argue. A split second later, her mouth snapped shut. Though, she had refrained from an argument, fire continued to dance in her gaze.

Suddenly, she lowered herself to the ground and snatched a corner of the dress. Lyvir was about ready to tug the corner from the princess’s hand before he heard her acquiesce.

“Fine.”

He stared at her, somewhat surprised. Her nimble fingers unraveled the stitching, pulling off more exchangeable commodities as Lyvir pondered her sudden obedience.

#exo writing #exophilia #dragon #dragon x princess #monster x human #fairytale #fantasy #lyvir #rosabella

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