#Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Marriages

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Marriages

Marriage is an important part of the life of both royal and nobles in any setting, either historical fiction or fantasy. Marriages are not only life long commitments but they are business and protection deals by families. These are strategies, not relationships. So how can we write them?

Why make a Marriage?

Marriage is at its heart, the seal on an agreement. Two families may come to an agreement to share resources, connections and support one another. For a noble family, it could be about elevation. For example, if the daughter of an Earl marries a Duke, her siblings can now make higher marriages and her family would be more important thanks to this link. It could even be about money. In the late Victorian - Early Edwardian period, many impoverished English peers married wealthy American women for their fortunes. In exchange, the women became titled aristocrats. Royal marriages are made for more universal perks. A royal marriage can change the political layout of the world, it could isolate a kingdom or be the starting gun or a war or end a years long conflict. For example, Kingdom A might be being threatened by Kingdom B. Kingdom C has a powerful military. Kingdom A might offer up a marriage deal to Kingdom C, with the caveat that C protect A from B. C would obligated to act if A gets attacked by B, since A is now an ally. A marriage cements the deal as it creates family ties, which is seen as a sort of permanent stamp on negotiations. After all, would you screw over family?

Marriages of Choice vs Arranged Marriages

Marriages can either be made on behalf of a royal/noble or made by themselves. An heir might be more restricted in this case whilst a younger children have a little more leeway especially if they are part of a large family.

Marriages are not always arranged. But that doesn't mean there aren't restrictions. Any royal or noble will have a list of certain attributes their spouse must have or certain attributes they cannot have. Marriages of choice have to be approved by parents (and the crown if you are a high ranking noble) and if you are royal, sometimes by the government itself.

Arranged marriages are agreements between two families. They might want each other's protection, support or they might simply want to do business together such as opening trade corridors or lifting embargoes on certain items. Arranged marriages are usually made on behalf of both spouses and they are expected to agree to the match for the sake of their family or country.

Screwing over the Deal

Making a marriage doesn't mean that the deal will last forever. Alliances change and circumstances shift. Whilst everyone may be all friendly during negotiations and for some time after, politics is the aim of the game. Treaties can be broken, war can break out and marriages can become unpopular choices. If a country has welcomed a bride/groom one day and then their country becomes the enemy, the bride/groom could become an enemy as well and face isolation and disrespect from the public - even their new family. However they are expected to be loyal to their new family and country, even over their own family and kingdom. These marriages have no promise of happiness. They are a job, a duty to ensure the family is taken care of and securing their futures.

Timeline of a Royal Marriage between Two Royal Families

Offer: The suggestion is made.

Negotiations: The discussion through ambassadors of what a marriage might entails, what each side is willing to provide or what they demand of the marriage. This can take weeks, months even years before a marriage is agreed.

Betrothal: Marriage is approved, treaty signed and the couple is engaged. Betrothals can last from anything from a few weeks to years

Wedding: If one spouse has to travel to their new home, they will travel to their new home and meet their new court, new family and their spouse. Once they arrive, the wedding will take place in a matter of days.

Married Life

These marriages are public, so it is expected for the couple to at least act civil. If they do not like one another or can't stand the sight of another or they just don't love each other, is irrelevant to society and their expectations. They are expected to attend certain events together, sire children and do their duty. There's no rules saying they must live together, so many lived separate lives. The higher ranking spouse is expected to provide their spouse with an allowance and a staff. For international marriages, spouses are not permitted to hire a large party of their own attendants even if they accompany them to their new country. They may keep one or two for company but a newly minted royal should not be waited on by foreign servants, they are a royal of their new kingdom now.

What makes a "good" marriage?

As mentioned above, marriages and relationships are expected to fall into certain perameters. Any spouse - chosen or assigned - should meet certain standards such as be of appropriate rank, follow societal norms and even sometimes be of the same religion. Marriages to anybody who falls out of these standards can be seen as a devasting move - the marriage of Edward IV is still remarked on as a contributing factor to the end of the Plantagenet dynasty. Making the wrong choice of spouse in society's eyes can lead to gossip, being shunned, being disrespected and even barred from succeeding to your birthright. Unequal marriages or morganatic marriages, can even bar children from succession, disallow the couple from attending events together and deny the spouse the style they ought to be entitled to - the marriage of Archduke Franz Ferdinand is a good example to study. A good marriage is seen as one that adheres to all the expectations of society - even if it is an unhappy one.

#Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Marriages #Fantasy Guide #Writing royal characters #Writing royalty #Writing nobles #Nobles #writing #writeblr #writing resources #writing reference #writing advice #spilled words #ask answered questions #ask answered #writers #Writing guide #Writer's resources #Writer's reference #Writer's research

[thegreatwicked]

Writing Resources Part 2

My first list was so long I decided that I reached the character limit! So we have a part two! I'm going to try and keep them a bit more organized too! Hope these help you all in your writing endeavors and if you happen to use any of them try to give the original source some love!

Also, apologies if I've tagged you more than once and it's annoying! If I reference your material more than twice I will just link your whole Tumblr. I really do want to make sure everyone gets their credit and spotlight!

General Information and Research:

The Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Marriages or anything by @inky-duchess Her blog is extensive and is a wealth of information regarding things like royalty/nobility/Period social politics and is a fantastic resource, go check her out! Ink I do appologize I might be tagging you more than once!

@type1diabetesinfandom This blog is an amazing resource if you are interested in writing about characters with any form of diabetes or similar health issues. It was ana amzing find when I was writing my character Belladonna Black from Shadows of Deception who is hypoglycemic. What an amazing source!

How to Cook in a Medieval Setting: by @alpaca-clouds Food is the best way to know a culture and this particular blog post is a trove of information for your fictional foodie set anywhere in this spectrum of time or a great find for a fictional setting! This post obviously gets a chefs kiss!

The Symbolism of Flowers by @novlr Yeah! Leopold knew what he was talkign about, every flower has a meaning and it is entirely possible to send some a bouquette that translates to 'Fuck You' btw it consists of geraniums (stupidity), foxglove (insincerity), meadowsweet (uselessness), yellow carnations (you have disappointed me), and orange lilies (hatred). it would be quite striking! and full of loathing. THE MORE YOU KNOW. This blog is also a fantastic source for writers.

Writing About Body Pain by @slayingfiction I just came across this gem of a blog and if you're one who likes to make your characters sufffer than look no further, also, how ya doing? You ok? Just checking. This blog is also a fantastic writing resource.

How to Accurately Describe Pain in Writing by @hayatheauthor kinda piggybacking off the previous source but nevertheless lets make sure we make these characters suffer realistically? I'm ok too, if you're wondering. This is another great blog that focuses on the aspect of being a writer.

How to Use Canva to Make Mood Boards by @saradika I did not know much about mood baords but I'm telling you they are a gaem changer! They bring a life to your story in a way that is just so stunning and saradika has been so lovely as to make this helpful guide! She's also a very talented writer and is quite the Star Wars Fan! GO check out her stories!

Researching as a Writer by @so-many-ocs Research is a tricky topid to delve into and sometime sit hard to know where to start, this blogger has been so kinda as to make a bit of a roadmap to help you narrow down what you need to research and how. Wonderful blog! Very helpful!

Resources for Writing Deaf, Mute, or Blind Characters by @thecaffeinebookwarrior THIS! This right here is a gem and the only reason I don't write these types fo characters is because I've never known how to do so respectfuly and realistically! Not a problem anymore! Also a wonderful artist!

How to Write and Research a Mental Illness another gem from @hayatheauthor again if you're going to wrote a character with a mental illness lets make sure we get it right!

@namesforwriters It's little but a wonderful source of unique names for your story! Including mythology and music themed names!

Nightmare Disorder vs Night Terrors by @redd956 Some great clarification from a blogger who is diagnosed! So happy I found this as I was wondering about the distinction myself for a little while!

Types of Gemstones by @blueboxbeagle and brought to my attention by @keffirinne

More will be added to this post as I find it and if you find anything that fits the general research on broad topics or specifics please let me know so I can continue this collective writing resource! And make sure to give some of these wonderful writers and bloggers some love!

#writing resources #writing research

[angelasscribbles]

Secrets Chapter 4: Threats

Series: Secrets

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake, Leo x Madeline

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: mature themes

Word Count: 1,383

A/N: I really think this one will be wrapped up with chapter 6, which is already half written. (Chapter 5 is done pending proofing and will be up later today or tomorrow).

My other stuff: Master List.

Another interminable ball. He used to hate them. Now, he looked forward to watching her. He didn’t care where he was, as long as she was there.

He’d spent the entirety of this one trying to discern who her lover was. Watching her was his job, no one batted an eye at where his attention was focused. Not that anyone paid any attention to what he did or even acknowledged the existence of any of the guards scattered around the room. They were invisible. He didn’t mind. It made it easier to do his job. He didn’t want to interact with most of the people in the room anyway.

Leo was an exception. Liam was an exception. They were practically family. There were a few other members of the aristocracy that he found tolerable, barely.

He had mixed feelings about Leo now. Leo was married to Riley, but not because he wanted to be. Riley would have never even come into his life if it hadn’t been for the arranged marriage, so he couldn’t resent Leo for it. He was fairly certain they hadn’t even slept together, at least not in a long while. She had her own room, she never went to his, he never came to hers, and he certainly wasn’t who she was sneaking out to meet on a regular basis.

But who was?

He watched her interactions with every man she came into contact with, hoping for clues.

He watched as Liam spun her around the room. She’d already danced with Leo, Constantine, Maxwell, Rashad, Tariq and few members of the French delegation this ball was in honor of. Nothing in her demeanor had betrayed anything beyond polite, sometimes bored, interest in any of them. He didn’t know how her feet didn’t hurt. Maybe she’d want him to rub them later, they must hurt, that was a lot of dancing. In heels. Strappy, shimmery, heels. Heels that encased her perfectly pedicured toes, heels that showcased her toned and tanned legs. Legs that flashed and peeked from the slit in her floor length gown as she twirled.

And that dress. That dress hugged every curve perfectly, accentuating her round, firm ass, and left her back bare. His fingers twitched as his eyes tracked up her back; he could practically feel the perfect buttery softness of her skin under his hands.

He was pulled out of his fantasies as another entitled noble approached her.

“Mind if I cut in?”

“Actually, I do.” Liam said, his annoyance barely concealed, “Surely you can wait for the next waltz.”

The man stiffened but smiled, a fake, insincere smile, “Certainly, Your Majesty.”

Liam pulled her back into his arms as the man walked away, his hand sliding down her lower back and stopping a fraction of an inch on this side of propriety.

Drake’s eyes narrowed as he watched them.

Liam whispered something in her ear. Her laugh was real. The smile the spread across Liam’s face at her laughter was real too.

Liam was a funny guy, polite, respectful. It might mean nothing. Everyone liked him. He was likable. How likable?

The dance ended and the other man was back to claim her before she had a chance to leave the floor. She was definitely going to need a foot rub after this. She gave Liam a regretful smile as she let herself be led back onto the floor.

“Neville Vancouer, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He introduced himself.

“Riley Rys.”

“I know who you are,” He told her as he guided her around the dance floor, “everyone knows who you are.”

He made pointless small talk as her eyes roamed the ballroom. She caught Drake’s eye, and a genuine smile curved her lips up.

Drake’s insides warmed.

He watched as her smile was replaced with a frown. He moved closer, trying to discern what the problem was.

“It’s not a secret that your husband is otherwise…entertained tonight. Perhaps I could offer you similar diversions?” Neville offered.

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating but I’m faithful to my husband.” Riley lied.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” He said as he pulled her body tight against his. Too tight.

She put her hands on his chest as she tried to push away, “Let go!”

Liam appeared at her side, “I believe the lady asked you to let go.”

Neville released his grip and took a step back, hands up, “I promise, I meant no-“

Neville suddenly disappeared as he was jerked backwards away from her. She jumped, startled. Liam’s arm went around her, “Are you ok?”

She nodded as her eyes tracked Neville being drug unceremoniously from the ballroom by Drake.

Out in the hallway, Neville found himself pressed up against a wall, Drake’s forearm digging into his chest, pinning him to it.

“Let…go….of…..me!” Neville gaped as he tried to twist out of the bigger man’s grasp.

“Not until we get one thing clear.” Drake’s voice held a steely edge Neville had never heard before.

“What?”

“No means no, dickweed. And that woman is going to be your queen, have some fucking respect!”

“I….meant….no disrespect! I just…”

Drake leaned in, pressing Neville harder into the wall, making it harder for him to breath, “I don’t care what you meant. You don’t touch her again. Do you understand? In fact, you don’t so much as talk to her again, or I will make sure they never find your body! Do you understand?”

Neville nodded and Drake stepped away, releasing him to slide down the wall, gasping for air.

Drake turned on his heel, leaving the nobleman on the ground, and returned to the ballroom. His eyes found Riley quickly. She was seated at a table chatting with several ladies of the court as she twirled a champagne flute between her fingers. He caught her eye, and she gave him a brief smile and nod.

His eyes scanned the room for Liam and found him dancing with the wife of the French ambassador. Because he danced with everyone at these events. It was the whole point.

He settled back against the wall of the ballroom, keeping watch from a distance.

Two hours later, Drake handed responsibility for the princess over to the next shift. He was technically off duty, but he had no desire to leave the ballroom until she did. He ordered a whiskey at the bar and took a seat next to Liam, “Tired of dancing?”

“Yes!” He laughed, “You’re lucky you never have to do it.”

“Hm.” Drake sipped his drink thinking about just how much he’d like to wrap his arms around one particular dance partner.

Liam’s thoughts were centered on the same woman. If he could dance with her all night, he’d do it, but protocol demanded he mingle and network, and propriety dictated that he never seem too interested in his brother’s wife. Out loud he said, “So, where have you been lately? We missed you at the poker game.”

“Just been a little busier than usual. Dealing with some…stuff. Nothing to worry about. I’ll take your money next week.” He didn’t mention that the stuff he was dealing with was his own obsession with his charge.

Drake paused, drink halfway to his lips as he spotted something over the rim of his glass that made his blood boil. Riley, on the other side of the ballroom, being manhandled by Neville, again. Leo was nowhere to be found. Fucking useless as always.  

Liam’s eyes followed Drake’s. Both men were on their feet, but her current guard had it handled.

“Fucker.” Drake muttered under his breath.

“I’ll make sure he’s not on the guest list for any more palace events.” Liam’s jaw ticked.

“That’s good.” But it wasn’t just palace events that were at issue, was it? Neville Vancouer was everywhere in Cordonian society. Liam couldn’t ban him from everything.

Liam’s body shifted as he changed the subject, not wanting to seem too interested in his sister in law, “You hungry? Want to go raid the kitchens with me?”

“No thanks. I have something I need to take care of. Another time?” He threw the rest of his drink back and slammed the glass down on the bar.

“Sure.” Liam responded as he watched Drake follow Neville out of the ballroom.

#secrets #angelasscribbles #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #drake walker #liam rys #choices #trr #the royal romance fanfic #choices stories you play #secret #why choose

[lachimolala-is-love-and-life]

Masterlist

BTS

💕= romance!au, 👑= historical!au,

 🐶=hybrid!au,  🐺=werewolf!au

  🧙‍♂️=fantasy!au, 🩸=vampire!au, 😈=demon!au,

 📚=college!au,    💦=smut!au,  😡=angst!au,  💖=fluff!au 

✅= complete, ❌ = work in progress 

💀= horror!au

OT7

Greek Mythology

Kim Seokjin

The Corpse Groom 💖💀🧙‍♂️

(Namjoon x Reader, Jin x Reader)

Summary: Lee Y/n’s and Kim Namjoon’s families have arranged their marriage. Though they like each other at the first sight, Y/n is nervous about the ceremony. While she’s in a forest practicing her lines for the wedding, a tree branch becomes a hand that drags her to the land of the dead. It belongs to Kim Seokjin, who was murdered after eloping with his love and now he wants to marry Y/n to find his happy ending. Y/n has another problem. She must get back aboveground before Namjoon marries the villainous Choi Yuna because his parent think his future bride run away from him…forever.

Min Yoongi

Royal destiny 💦💕👑🧙‍♂️😡❌

Summary: Many emperors have led the people of the Joseon Empire, who are considered bloody tyrants and who are great guides for their people. This story telks about of two twin brothers heirs to the throne of the empire whose first noble blood ready to risk his life for a bright future, next to his beloved. The second of toxic blood, ready to condemn to death anyone who can turn against his path.

Kim Namjoon

The Corpse Groom💖💀🧙‍♂️

(Namjoon x Reader, Jin x Reader)

Summary: Lee Y/n’s and Kim Namjoon’s families have arranged their marriage. Though they like each other at the first sight, Y/n is nervous about the ceremony. While she’s in a forest practicing her lines for the wedding, a tree branch becomes a hand that drags her to the land of the dead. It belongs to Kim Seokjin, who was murdered after eloping with his love and now he wants to marry Y/n to find his happy ending. Y/n has another problem. She must get back aboveground before Namjoon marries the villainous Choi Yuna because his parent think his future bride run away from him…forever.

Jung Hoseok

YOUR PSYCHO SMILE 💀💦

Summary: Y/n Quinzel gets a scholarship in medicine/humanities and enrolls in a faculty of psychiatry, earning her degree. She then gets a job as a psychiatrist at Hope Asylum, the Famous Seoul Asylum. She discover the famous criminal who have always a creepy make up of a clown, Hoseok, know from all with the name Joker, is a new patient of the asylum. Eager to interview the Joker, who daily gives her a flower in his studio, does everything to meet him and, when he finally succeeds, is seduced. The criminal is for her a real obsession, a crazy love.  

COMING SOON...

Park Jimin

I CAN BE YOUR GENIE... 💖💦🧙‍♂️

Summary:  Park Jimin is a very poor boy who lives on expedients in the city of Agrabah. During a break-in, he meets Princess Y/n, who has been forbidden to leave the royal palace: but Y/n wants to know her city, and goes around posing as her handmaiden Dalia. When Jimin discovers the true identity of the princess it is too late: he is already in love with her, but he knows he is too "beggar" to aspire to her hand. The treacherous vizier Namjoon, tired of the role of eternal second and eager to take the throne of the sultan, sends Jimin to steal a magic lamp that makes who owns it powerful. But inside the lamp there is a genius and Namjoon has dangerous plans: so Jimin will hold tight lamp and genius, while trying to conquer the princess of his dreams with the help of his three wishes who deserv as genie owner.

COMING SOON...

Kim Taehyung

The Strange Case of Kim Taehyung and V 💀💖💦

Summary: Seoul, South Korea. During a night a man deliberately tramples a child, not caring about her cries. Chased by a passerby, the demonic V agrees to compensate her with money: but the cheque he produces has the signature of the distinguished Taehyung, a doctor esteemed by many. It is the beginning of Taehyung’s fall into a vortex of oddities: he isolates himself, seems tormented by violent anguish, and above all provides V - who inspires instinctive horror, and who is accused of disgusting crimes - not only money, but also protection in his home. What dark covenant can unite such different personalities?

Prologue, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13 (last chapter)

Jeon Jungkook

THE PAINTER AND HIS PEARL 🎨💖💦

Summery: Seoul, South Korea, 15 th century. Life flows peacefully in the prosperous Korean city. When she is hired as a maid in the house of the famous painter Jeon Jungkook, Y/n, a beautiful twenty-year-old girl, receives with precision her task: she will have to take care with care of the child of the artist, not hurt the susceptibility of the cunning mother-in-law and, Above all, do not irritate the sensual, restless wife of the painter and her jealousy. Inexorably, however, things will go differently... Y/n and Jungkook, will share complicity and feelings, sex and love.

COMING SOON...

Got7

Ot7 

Got7 Pregnancy Series

#masterlist #bts masterlist #bts masterpost #got7 masterlist #bts #got7 #bts x reader #bts x you #got7 x reader #got7 x you

[demi-shoggoth]

2021 Reading Log, pt. 9

41. Royal Witches by Gemma Hollman. Could use fewer royals and more witches. This is a biography of four noblewomen in English court politics in the 15th century, Joan of Navarre, Eleanor Cobham, Jacquetta of Luxembourg and her daughter, Elizabeth Woodville. All four of these women were accused of witchcraft as a political ploy by their enemies, although in the case of the last two it’s more of a footnote than a pivotal event in their lives. The goal of the book is to present a complex view of these women as people, not the saints or villains they’re often depicted as in propaganda. Although it is novel to see a woman dominated history of this period (Richard III is a side character!), and the book does a good job of using marginal data to create a full picture of these nobles as people, it falls short of what I was expecting. Based on the title, and the introduction, I was expecting a history of the perception of witchcraft in England in the late medieval period, before the Burning Times and the Malleus Maleficarum, using these nobles as focal points for attitudes and claims. I suspect the title was a marketing ploy, and it’s one that ended up disappointing me.

42. Unmentionable: The Victorian Lady’s Guide to Sex, Marriage and Manners by Therese Oneill. This is the first of the author’s cheeky surveys of bad Victorian advice, but I read them out of order (I found her book about Victorian childcare, Ungovernable, first). The book takes the format of a time traveler’s pointers to a 21st century woman who has been transported back, about how the fantasy of Victorian life portrayed in media was decidedly sexist, smelly and dangerous. The overall vibe is an etiquette guide written by a malicious genie. That’s fun, but the book really comes into its own as it brings in more of the Victorian era’s own words, as excerpts from mansplaining, moralizing or just plain bizarre books are brought out. They book is filled with many illustrations and photos from vintage sources, captioned in riffing fashion. It’s both very informative and very funny, which is a hard balance to capture sometimes.

43. The Chemistry of Alchemy by Cathy Cobb, Monty L. Fetterolf and Harold D. Goldwhite. I was expecting this book to be a history of how alchemy transmuted itself (hah) into chemistry over the centuries. I was not expecting this book to be filled with alchemical recipes and demonstrations. The authors are working chemists, and the book is filled with demos for how to make brass, perform redox reactions with metals, dissolve and purify salts, and other tricks of the alchemical trade. The demos focus mostly on the quest for gold and the philosopher’s stone, but some discussion of alchemical medicines and a little of alchemical philosophy comes through. These demos require a lot of high heat and commercially available acids—this isn’t kitchen chemistry, and I don’t know how many people reading the book are liable to try them. I know I’m not.

44. Lost Animals by John Whitfield.  Note that this is not the Errol Fuller book of the same name, which I highly recommend. This is a children’s book. It is not being sold as such, but the writing style is clearly at middle-grade level. It is a survey, seemingly at random, of extinct animals, with some discussion of endangered and rediscovered animals in the last 30 pages or so. The one word I would use to describe the book is “lazy”—the images are chosen from whatever was easy for them to get. This means there’s a handful of good paleoart, a lot of photographs of specimens in the Smithsonian collection (as this is a Smithsonian Books imprint) and a lot of terrible 3D models they could publish cheaply. Maybe the availability of images is responsible for what taxa were included. It’s not all bad—it’s nice to see a pop paleontology book that remembers that insects exist—but it’s not very good. I’m glad I was able to get a copy from the library; I would be very disappointed if I spent money on this.

45. The Hanging Tree by V.A.C. Gatrell. Yet again, the last book of a set is an enormous history, but this one read much faster than recent books on magic or the Bible. Gatrell’s topic is the “bloody laws” of the Hanoverian age, wherein in England there were dozens of hanging offenses, and hundreds of hangings, every year. The system failed, the book argued, because of the increasingly apparent absurdity and arbitrariness in which the codes were enforced—who was hanged, who was transported and who was pardoned was largely up to the whims of judges and the King’s council. The book is quietly radical in its insistence that state violence to enforce power is not a thing of the past, and that the modern (ish—the book is from 1994) prison system is as much an institution of violence as the old hanging codes. This is a must-read for people who are interested in British history, the history of crime and punishment and in how governments function. It is not a book for the squeamish or easily triggered—descriptions of crimes and punishments alike are in great detail.

#reading log #capital punishment #british history #alchemy #paleontology

[fandomsonrequests]

𝖗𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖎𝖘 ˎˊ˗

Latin for royal 

~~

➸  regiis is an upcoming series, featuring ateez, set in a royal and somewhat fantasy au. the stories are completely unrelated to one another and can be read as stand-alone series. please enjoy! it’s been a while since i’ve written but inspiration struck me to do these. also, all of these will be written with a female reader in mind. i’m apologize in advance if it wasn’t to your liking ;^;

edit (jan. 29, 2021): i changed wooyoung’s storyline! i wasn’t feeling the original one :’)) 

∴ ════ ∴ ♚ ∴ ════ ∴ ∴ ════ ∴ ♚ ∴ ════ ∴ ∴ ════ ∴ ♚ ∴ ════ ∴ 

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..?

˗ˏˋs u m m a r y ˎˊ˗

It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

꒰ prince!park seonghwa x knight!reader ꒱

ongoing

𝖇𝖑𝖚𝖊-𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓

˗ˏˋs u m m a r y ˎˊ˗

Choi San was meant to be next in line, but after his greedy uncle managed to trick his late father into being made king- San has been living his life in misery. His kingdom is in shambles and only the royal and the noble live in a lavish yet corrupt system. That is until he catches you, an assassin, and asks you to teach him how he can kill the king- and fast

꒰ prince!choi san x assassin!reader ꒱

coming soon

𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖈𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖊

˗ˏˋs u m m a r y ˎˊ˗

The typical love story between two best friends- where one is royalty, in this case- you, and the other is a servant, that is song mingi. You two “marry” each other as a joke and managed to get a notified certificate thinking no harm will be done, only to forget about it later on. As the years pass, you’re to inherit the throne and be wed but there was one thing in the way: the marriage certificate. The problem is- you haven’t spoken to Mingi in years

꒰ commoner!song mingi x princess!reader ꒱

coming soon

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖊

˗ˏˋs u m m a r y ˎˊ˗

You found the life as a princess awfully stuffy, busy, and pretentious. You often found yourself envying the guards who get to experience the thrill of action. With the help of your brother, you disguise yourself to become a knight and befriend the captain of the guards- Choi Jongho. You two find yourselves slowly falling for one another but as the threat of war falls over your kingdom, will you two see the end of the story together? Or will it be at the mercy of Death’s hands?

꒰ captain guard!choi jongho x princess! knight!reader ꒱

coming soon

𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

˗ˏˋs u m m a r y ˎˊ˗

Hongjoong was a rather... artistic prince. He hated having to learn how to fight or handle a sword. He’d rather paint, create music or reform his clothes. You, on the other hand, were a simple maid in the palace with a not so simple curse placed upon your bloodline: the curse of a dragon-shifter that is. You soon find both your fates intertwined when Hongjoong was tasked to slay the dragon that loomed over the land.

꒰ prince!kim hongjoong x maiden!dragon-shifter!reader ꒱

coming soon

𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖋

˗ˏˋs u m m a r y ˎˊ˗

You and Wooyoung knew each other since childhood- but it doesn’t mean that you two liked each other. In fact, you both despised one another. He found you too stuck up and you found him too rowdy; he was so immature and you were so smug. And now you had to marry him?? You were told that in due time, you’d grow out of your petty little feud and actually befriend him. Never in a million years would that happen... right?

꒰ prince!jung wooyoung x princess!reader ꒱

coming soon

𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊

˗ˏˋs u m m a r y ˎˊ˗ 

After a failed assassination attempt- Yeosang, a village commoner - was made to be a decoy to the crown prince. You are the royal tutor made to guide Yeosang in adapting to his new role in the kingdom. As time goes on, many secrets unravel revolving the people around you two

꒰ fake prince!kang yeosang x royal tutor!reader ꒱

coming soon

𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖙

˗ˏˋs u m m a r y ˎˊ˗

You, the newly crowned queen, were forced to flee in the middle of the night as Dracula’s little minions swarmed the village. Unfortunately, Dracula’s minions managed to catch up to you. Just when you thought your life was over, a rather charming monster-hunter saves you. You ask him, or rather demand, that he takes you to Dracula’s palace to strike some compromise. Little did you know, the monster-hunter had a little, rather hairy, secret

꒰ werewolf! monster-hunter!jeong yunho x queen!reader ꒱

coming soon

#ateez #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #choi san #choi san x reader #song mingi #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho #choi jongho x reader #fem reader #fem! reader #royalty au #fantasy au #medieval au #royal au #idol x reader #prince ateez #prince! ateez #wip #works in progress #coming soon

[liquidstar]

My old one is a bit sloppy so I revised the loredump for the world my OC’s live in, it’s a bit long but it’s nice to have for reference, and if anyone wants to give it a little skim I’m putting it under the cut here!

In the beginning of this world, there were two “Gods” so to speak. They were two halves of a whole person, opposites that balance each other out. Iris, the Mother of Magic, and Crocus, the Father of Monsters. While Iris was calm and mature, Crocus had the personality of a petulant child on an awful tantrum who doesn't know when to stop. He had seen everything as a twisted sort of game, creating monsters was something he’d do for fun, in the most sadistic way possible. He viewed himself as above everything, all these creations were insignificant entertainment to him.

Iris didn’t see the world the same way, she saw beauty in life, it was a gift. Humans were her most precious creation, she adored the lives they lived. They were so short yet so sincere, so unique, so… Human. She envied and admired their ability to “grow up” more than anything. But the monsters her brother has created threatened their existence, almost as if he was making them for that exact reason. Maybe at first, creation was just a fun thing she and her “brother” did in their pastime, but now she can see it’s more than that, and she didn’t approve of Crocus’ demented method of playtime.

Iris retaliated, and of course Crocus didn’t respond well, he reacted like an angry toddler knocking over their sibling’s Lego castle, it was all toys to him. To Iris it was serious, but he failed to see that. Slowly he’d slip further down the rabbit hole, to the point of wanting to destroy the world they had created together. Crocus had become a monster himself. Iris had realized she could no longer see him as her playmate, her last resort was to banish him to a pocket dimension. But she could never kill him.

After banishing Crocus,Iris had realized that humans needed a way to protect themselves against her “brother’s” monsters, and she gave them the gift of magic, but at a cost. The magic they’d received was actually a fragment of her powers, and Iris would only retain her immortality. In order to help the humans better understand magic and how to use it, she opened a school to be wizards, to fight monsters, to fend for themselves, and maybe to do what she couldn’t do and kill her brother, if he were to ever return.

After the banishment of Crocus, and birth of magic, humans had become united and the world was a single country, Anthea. The first queen was Queen Anne, who had risen to royalty as the first person born with magic, people declared her a Godsend from Iris herself, she was raised to rule and thus the lineage of heirs would continue, each using the royal magic; Light Magic. Queen Anne would split the country into pieces, as governing the whole world was too grand of a task. Now it would be multiple people, each governing different parts that form a greater whole, with the current monarch at the helm. Each piece would go to knights of hers that she had selected, and the type of magic they used would become the noble type taught each lineage of heirs. (Read more about each different province here)

The current heiress to the throne is Amaryllis, whose mother, Queen Ambrosia, had passed on when she was a toddler. Her husband, King Angrec, is now the sitting monarch. However their marriage was arranged, and if you believe the rumors, Queen Ambrosia was having an affair with her personal Knight, Aster. Aster is also the the magic tutor of Princess Amaryllis, who is studying light magic.

There’s plenty of types magic though, for all sorts of things. There’s earth, fire, stretching, gravity, healing, death, plants, animals, clairvoyance, music, space, time... Anything! Wizards invent all types of new techniques all the time, but you can only ever have one type of magic. Once your soul, or “core”, has adapted to one magic it’s all it can do, humans only have a small piece of Iris’ power and so they can only do one thing with it. Unless you were to cram two souls into one body. The core is where magic comes from, it’s your very soul, it’s you. So once you use a certain type of magic long enough, it also affects your body, and wizard’s bodies will change and adapt to their magic as they use it over time.

Despite the original purpose of wizards being to fight monsters, that’s not all a wizard can do. They can run potion and magic shops, they can be healers, teachers, inventors, scholars, practically anything! However, it’s also super common for wizards to be regarded as celebrities and heroes, especially those seen as the best of the best. For example, the Twelve Knights of the Royal Round. Each one with a rank for twelve to one, they’re knights hand-picked by the royal family to serve, they’re considered heroes who do everything from reading to sick kids to fighting the most violent monsters around.

Aspiring wizards look up to these heroes while they learn to be proper wizards. They may be self taught, they may shadow professionals as apprentices, or they may attend one of the many wizarding schools around Anthea. Including of course, the school created by the Mother of Magic herself, Hecate Academy. A boarding school that runs on a very specific system that no other school does; it uses a crystal ball to choose students for field assignments. For freshmen, these assignments may be as simple as taking care of a potion shop for a couple days, but as they grow older, by senior year they will be taking on assignments that involve fighting real monsters. The crystal ball chooses students through clairvoyance, based on their abilities, team work, and whether this assignment will be beneficial to them, while not too difficult still challenging. Whether they get a good grade is solely based on what they learn from their journey.

Crystals in general are a very important magical material and resource in this modern wizarding society. They’re special because they’re capable of holding magic power of any kind when charged. Crystals charged with electricity magic power homes, crystals charged with healing magic act as medicine, crystals charged with sky magic are used for air travel. “Crystal screens” or usually just called “screens” are a huge recent invention, this world’s version of smartphones. They are all connected by three five communication crystals across Anthea, and each charged with magic energy, but of course the most important aspect is in the crystals connecting them.

However not everything is perfect in this modern wizarding world, there’s still plenty to clean up after what Crocus left behind, even if it was nearly 1000 years ago. The current year is 997AM, after magic. That’s three years before the Crocosmi Order prophesied his return. The order is an organization that stayed devoted to Crocus. They work towards bringing the Father of Monsters back, in order for him to defeat his “sister” and bring true freedom for them, that’s what they’re promised. However the reality of the situation is that’s an empty promise, and it’s just a cult brainwashing and abusing its followers the same as any other. The one calling the shots right now is in it for personal gain, a megalomaniac that won’t stop at anything to gain control of everything, and who has no issues manipulating and abusing people to get what she wants, including children. An issue that may spell trouble for a certain new class of children at Hecate Academy.

A class that the aforementioned current Princess is attending, guided by her personal magic teacher, who has now become the newest homeroom teacher. At first she and her classmates struggle with the ins and outs of highschool and adolescence, their general coming of age struggles blend together with all the magic and wizards and fantasy. But what they don’t know is that something more sinister is lurking, and their magic highschool experience won’t be the regular kind. Through their struggles though, the kids form strong bonds, they learn to be themselves, and most importantly, they grow up. 

#finn's ocs #this IS ok to rb also #lord knows i love feedback

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Northern Lights

Summary: Belle travels to frozen Arendelle to witness the Northern Aurora. Legend has it that eligible young women will see the face of their intended in the lights, but Belle’s never held much sway by old wives’ tales…

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling moodboard, available here.

Rated: G

Northern Lights

Belle had been looking forward to her trip to Arendelle ever since she had received Anna’s invitation. As the carriage drove through along the heavily salted roads, snow and ice piled up in huge drifts around them, she could see that the entire kingdom was in a state of intense excitement.

She knew why, of course. It was the entire reason for her visit to Anna in the first place. Well, in the invitation, Anna had couched it in terms of diplomacy: a visit from a duchess of the southern lands to the frozen and near uninhabitable North was always a good exercise in maintaining friendly relations across the Enchanted Forest. Belle knew the truth, however.

The Northern Aurora was due to become visible again over Arendelle’s peaks that night, and it was a momentous occasion. The mesmerising sky lights were only seen every ten or so years, and all of Arendelle fell into a frenzy when they became visible again. Much store was set by the Aurora, and the swirling colours were said to predict all kinds of things about the future.

Belle did not hold much with the divination side of things, but she knew that she wanted to witness the natural magnificence since she had the chance. She had seen illustrations of the Aurora in her books before, but she knew that they would never be able to compare with seeing the lights in person. The pictures themselves were breath-taking, which meant that the lights themselves could only be more so.

The carriage rounded a corner and the Arendelle royal palace came into view. Belle could already see Anna standing by the gates, wrapped up in wool and furs and prancing from one foot to the other to try and keep warm as she waited for her guest. Almost as soon as Belle was out of the carriage, Anna had grabbed her and was leading her through the palace’s halls, chattering on so fast that Belle could barely get a word in edgeways. She didn’t mind, though, content to let Anna guide her on a whistle-stop tour of the palace and fill her in on several hundred years of history in just a few minutes.

She had first met Anna just a few years ago, when she had accompanied Queen Elsa on a tour of the southern kingdoms and they had spent a few days in the Duchy of Avonlea, neighbouring Belle’s own lands. All of the nobility in the region had been invited to meet the visiting royalty, and being Belle’s age, Anna had taken a shine to her. Although they were chalk and cheese in terms of personality, Anna brash and outgoing, a people-person in all respects, whilst Belle was more reserved although no less forceful when she wanted to be, the two young ladies had got on very well and had remained firm friends ever since.

This was Belle’s first time in Arendelle, and her first time visiting anywhere without her father. Anna was determined that they should make the most of their comparative freedom.

“Of course, Elsa will make sure that we have a chaperone when we go out to see the lights tonight, but with any luck it will be Sir Rumpel.”

“Sir Rumpel?” Belle was intrigued by the name.

“Rumpelstiltskin, really, but it’s such a mouthful to pronounce. He doesn’t seem to mind when I call him Rumpel. Everyone says that he’s performed great feats in war against the ogres. Of course, all that was long before my time and he doesn’t like to talk about it, but I think that the reports are trustworthy. Anyway, he’s lovely, and very discreet so I don’t think he’ll tell Elsa if we happen to slip away for a bit.” Anna sighed dramatically. “It can be so tiresome having someone watching your every move all the time.”

Although Belle was only the daughter of a duke comparatively low in the noble pecking order, she too knew the problems of being followed by knights everywhere she went. She wasn’t sure that she was looking forward to meeting this knight of Anna’s. In her experience, most soldiers were alike, but Anna’s description of Sir Rumpelstiltskin had roused her curiosity.

The rest of the day was spent in the room that had been set aside for Belle’s stay, the two girls catching up on everything that had happened since they had last been in touch. As darkness began to fall outside, far earlier than it did in the south, Belle could tell that Anna could barely contain her excitement; she was practically bouncing up and down on the bed.

“You know, they say that young ladies of a marriageable age will see the face of their future husband when they look into the lights,” she said, then gave an emphatic sigh. “Oh, I hope mine’s handsome.”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Anna, please don’t tell me that you invited me to see the Aurora just so that I could see my potential suitor?”

“Of course not! The lights are a wonderful natural phenomenon that everyone should have the chance to experience in person and of course we’re doing our bit for maintaining good relationships between Arendelle and the rest of the Enchanted Forest. Honestly, Belle, didn’t you read my letter to your father?”

Belle remained firmly unconvinced and Anna let out a sigh of defeat.

“All right, all right, yes, one of the reasons that I wanted you to see the lights was to see your future husband. I know that you haven’t been having much luck on that front and I thought that if you had something to aim for then it would help you.”

Belle just shook her head in despair. It was true enough that none of the potential matches that her father had introduced her to over the last couple of years had been anywhere near suitable, and she knew that she was running out of eligible noblemen, but Belle had never been of the opinion that bloodlines and fortunes should be of the highest priority when selecting a partner. She held far more store by love and friendship, no matter who her partner might be.

Presently there was a polite tap on the door and a voice spoke through the wood.

“Your Highness, Her Majesty has instructed me to accompany you to the Aurora tonight. I suggest that we head out soon if we want to get the best view of the lights.”

Anna rushed over to the door and flung it open.

“Oh, I did so hope that it would be you coming with us, Sir Rumpel. Belle, this is Sir Rumpelstiltskin. Sir Rumpel, my dear friend Lady Belle of the Marchlands.”

Sir Rumpelstiltskin bowed. “Welcome to Arendelle, Lady Belle. I hope that you’ll enjoy your stay here.”

Belle curtseyed. “Thank you, Sir.”

She took a moment to take him in, the famous knight that Anna had told her so much and yet so little about. He was certainly not like any of the other knights of Belle’s acquaintance, and she was very pleased by that. He was older for a start, mature and measured rather than one of the young, hot-blooded types that she was used to, and there was kindness and gentleness in his eyes.

“The sled is waiting, Your Highness, Your Ladyship. I’ll see you shortly.”

He closed the door after him, and as Anna bustled around gathering their warm cloaks and fur-lined boots, Belle was left wondering.

“Come on, Belle, stop daydreaming! You don’t want to miss your chance, do you?” Anna shoved a hat on her head haphazardly and as Belle pulled it up from over her eyes, she saw Anna give a wistful sigh. “Oh, I hope mine looks like Prince Hans from the Southern Isles.”

Belle raised an eyebrow, unseen, and she continued to prepare for their departure. From what she’d heard of the Southern Isles’ royal family, she thought that Anna could do an awful lot better than Prince Hans, but she didn’t say anything, letting her friend indulge in her harmless fantasies.

At last, they were ready, and soon tucked up snugly under heavy blankets in the back of the sled. Sir Rumpel was trotting alongside them on a white charger, and Belle couldn’t help sneaking little sideways glances at him. She was trying to be subtle, but she knew she’d failed when she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up in a smile.

Presently, he leaned down in the saddle to speak to her.

“You’ll get a good view just around the next corner,” he said. Even though Belle knew that he was talking about the lights, she felt her face flame as her thoughts turned in a different direction. At least the warmth in her cheeks was countering the cool wind.

They rounded the corner and all thoughts of Sir Rumpel were put out of Belle’s head as she caught her first glimpse of the Aurora. It was breath-taking, even from this distance, and she stared in wonder at it.

“I know, it’s mesmerising, isn’t it?” Anna clapped her hands together in excitement. “It’ll be even better when we get closer.”

The sky was swirling in bright greens and blues as if it were alive, and Belle immediately thought of just how little justice the illustrations in her books did to its raw and unrefined beauty. It kept her spellbound until they reached the plateau where crowds were gathering to watch the lights in their full glory, and it was only when Sir Rumpel offered her a hand to help her out of the sled that she remembered where she was and was brought back to the present.

She kept hold of his hand as he guided her across the icy ground towards the best viewing spot; Anna had already rushed on ahead, not caring as she slipped and slid across the plateau until she was right in the centre of the crowd, gazing up at the Aurora.

Belle looked up and drank in the majesty of the spectacle. If she’d held even the vaguest belief in the old notions, then it would have been well and truly squashed in that moment. There was nothing akin to a human face in the lights, and she could not see how anyone could see anything aside from the beautiful waves of colour. They in themselves were more handsome than any potential intended.

Although, that said…

She looked across at Sir Rumpel, very aware that she was still holding his hand, but he showed no signs of being uncomfortable with her closeness. He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring up at the lights as she had been doing until just a moment before.

The swirling hues of blue and green lit up his face, and Belle wondered. Maybe it was not so much seeing the face of one’s future partner in the lights, as seeing the lights in the face of one’s future partner.

Almost as if he could feel her looking at him, Sir Rumpel glanced over at her and smiled, giving her hand a brief squeeze where it still rested in his.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?”

Belle nodded. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“I’m glad you’ve had the opportunity to experience it first-hand.”

Nothing more was said, as Anna came bounding back over to them at that point.

“I think I’m going to marry a reindeer,” she said, screwing her nose up in disgust. “I couldn’t see anything at all human shaped. Just what looked like antlers. What about you?”

Belle shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen any antlers.”

“But you have seen something, right?” Anna was far too enthusiastic for her own good. “Something good?”

Belle glanced at the knight beside her once more before turning back to Anna.

“Yes. Something good.”

It was only an old fairy tale, after all, but maybe some truth could come out of it in the future.

#rumbelle fic #A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle #Belle French #Rumpelstiltskin #Knight!Rumpel #Lady!Belle #meet cute #first meetings #Fic: Northern Lights

[wishingforatypewriter]

can you pls write on how you imagine the other first-year students to be like in the fantasy au? like ikumi, hayama, polar star, etc

Thanks for the ask! Some the 92nd generation is mentioned in the original AU post, but the rest of them are here. 

Ikumi is the daughter of a noble family in Totsuki Kingdom and her father serves on King Senzaemon’s war council. From a young age, Ikumi was carefully schooled in the arts of swordplay and battle tactics, and she is counted among best fighters in the kingdom. Growing up, she was one of the Princess Erina’s close companions, and her favorite sparing partner (because Hisako was always too afraid of hurting her). When Erina ascends the throne, Ikumi will become her most trusted general. 

Yuki’s parents are tenants on the Isshiki family’s estate, but she works in the royal city as a huntress and procurer of magical goods. She is known as one of the best archers in the land, and once bested the Princess Alice — who is broadly considered the best marksman in Totsuki — in a contest. She is an amazing animal tracker, and has amassed considerable wealth through her ability to harvest pixie pollen and phoenix ashes. Her broad knowledge of the woods becomes incredibly important when the kingdom is planning its battles against Azami’s forces. 

Zenji is a scholar who lives and works within the royal university. His areas of study include history, cartography, and defensive magic (though he himself is not a mage). It was his research that made King Senzamon aware of the talisman that could disrupt Azami’s curse, and his maps that guided Souma and his companion to its probable location. In the years to come, some will say that it is him, along with Yuki, who truly turned the war in Totsuki’s favor. 

Shun is the son of the best blacksmith in the royal city and has willingly learned his father’s trade. His specialty is the crafting of weapons, and he has made the swords and axes of all of Totsuki Kingdom’s most famous warriors. It is a little known fact that he is a talented swordsman himself and could have easily become a knight if he’d been willing to abandon his family business. However, when he is called to war along with the other fighting men, his prowess in battle becomes public knowledge. 

Ryoko’s family owns a very popular tavern in the royal city, and the beer and ale served in her place are famous throughout the kingdom. She appears to be an average woman, steadfastly awaiting her marriage to the blacksmith’s son, but in truth, she also works as a spy for the royal family. Men often become loose lipped when they’re deep in their cups, and she has stopped more than one plot against the crown by keeping an ear to the ground. 

Miyoko is a member of Totsuki Kingdom’s minor nobility and a young officer in King Senzaemon’s navy. She has tried for many years to recruit Megumi into the navy, given her skills as sailor and swordswoman, to no avail. 

Subaru is part of Azami’s faction. He works as a minor military officer and an enforcer (read as extortionist) to the heir of the Eizan Bank. He is the first person in Azami’s faction to cross blades with Souma and assess him as a threat.

Daigo and Shoji are guards at the royal palace, charged with protecting the king and his family from harm. Shoji has a younger sister who would have died from a fever in childhood if the Lady Arato had not healed her. After this event, Shoji swore to protect Hisako always and viewed his oath to her as even more sacred than his vow to protect Totsuki’s royals.  

Urara is a spy for Azami’s camp, sent into Totsuki to collect intel on the orders of Kinokuni Nene. She quickly seeks employment at the palace as a lady’s maid and wins the heart of a member of the royal guard, Daigo. She is very skilled in her duties. However, her life in Totsuki is comfortable, and she sometimes considers defecting from Azami’s faction. 

Nao, conversely, is a mage who collects intel for King Senzaemon in Azami’s camp. She is competent at her work, but worries that Nene or Subaru will soon discover her true identity and have her killed.

#shokugeki no soma #food wars #mito ikumi #yoshino yuki #shun ibusaki #marui zenji #sakaki ryoko #hojo miyoko #mimasaka subaru #aoki daigo #sato shoji #kawashima urara #sadatsuka nao #92nd generation #fantasy au

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to the Medieval Household (The noble family)

*I may have sang that in the Addams family theme*

I often get asked what goes down in the noble household of a lord, an Earl or a Duke & how the family unit usually worked. So I have decided to compile everything one needs to know in this guide. If you are looking for the description of the actual house of the family or the jobs of their servants, check these links.

The Lord/Title Holder

So the Lord (or insert any noble title & insert other genders, its really that simple) is the head of the estate as well as the household & family unit. They were in charge of hearing the troubles of the tenants either local or from afar depending on the severity of the case being heard and the size of the lands ruled by the lord. They would adjudicate criminal and civil matters. They would also meet with the alderman and other servants of both the household and estate such as their Marshall and steward to oversee the accounts and protection matters of the land. Their main role within the family unit is a decision maker and  a driving force. Nothing gets said nor done without their permission or at least their knowledge of it.

The Lady/Consort

Again, insert other titles & genders. The lady or Consort was usually involved in the running of the household. They would have their finger on the pulse of the house, and expected to be on top of all the goings on within the household, such as knowing the expenses, the stock of supplies and the welfare of the servants. The Consort basically works as the manager of the actual home, with the servants communicating with them or the steward. They will also be heavily involved with the poor of the region, heading charities. The Consort would also act as an ambassador of mercy, preaching mercy and forgiveness on behalf of criminals to their spouse who would be judging their case.

Children

The children of the household lead relatively similar lives in their early years. Before puberty, children would grow up in the nursery. Babies would be given around the clock care, cared by wet nurses, rockers and a governess. Older children when about five, will begin their lessons with their tutors. When about ten or so, they to emerge in the household, trained by the Consort in how to run a household, the Lord on how lands should be ruled, how to fight from the master at arms and how to comport themselves in a mannerly way by their dancing master. They would also share their lessons with foster children known as wards (noble children taken in to be schooled by the Lord) & sometimes are sent to other nobility to be fostered. Thus tightened relations between nobles as well as provided the child with education. Teenagers would usually begin to be used as pawns in the marriage game about now but were rarely married young as some fantasy works suggest, most nobles would be married by the time they were 20. During their teen years their parents would begin to look for a spouse for them, they will usually begin to enter the society at this point, going to court and entering royal service.

#Fantasy Guide #Noble #noble titles #noble families #fantasy nobility #writing nobility #writing resources #writing #writing reference #writing advice #writeblr #writer #writer's problems #spilled words #writer's life #characters

[cirocchio]

AU details 01. royalty etc.

( still pointing at tsun as the instigator for this post )

‘royalty AU’ is too vague for me though so this is going to be a more all-encompassing general description of possible ideas for ‘AUs that all can take place in a political/ court setting’. No fancy introductory story-like excerpt.

Some things to note:

Firstly; because I like to keep Ciri’s Roma heritage I’m more inclined to make her a bastard child that may or may not be legitimised by her father. Usually not. Her uncle, as always, dotes on her. He’s also the more popular of the duo, the heir of the throne, etc. Another idea is that she accompanies Remo/Silvan to court as a child, as Remo would want to lobby for more rights for Rroma/ commoners in general. She can be as high or low-ranking as is deemed suitable for the plot.

Secondly: Ciri will never be a happy ruler. The responsibility of such a position weighs her down and restrains her and has never been something she wants to live with; Ciri both fears and hates power so her having that will make her incredibly uncomfortable. She doesn’t have the talent for scheming and intrigues nor does she command enough respect for her advisers to listen to her: she’d be a puppet at best, a scapegoat or victim of an assassination plot at worst. Ideally ( and even realistically ); she never gets stuck in the position of ruler/heir to the throne in the first place, but if she somehow did, she would work on a way to abdicate or even get banished without too much commotion or sending the country in chaos.

Ciri’s reputation ( aka the one thing I can talk about with almost utmost certainty ): Regardless of her position (low-ranking noble or royal blood), she’d be a bit of an oddball at court. She’s sensible and pragmatic and has plenty of interest in languages, culture, and music, promising traits. Yet when it comes to other matters she is bored, unmotivated, and dreamily stares out of the window during important lessons and meetings. She has no tact and will tell nobles, teachers, and missionaries alike when she does not like them, something they say or do, or disagrees with them without any regard for whether it’s appropriate or not. Being a bad liar Ciri quickly gives up on trying to play with and figure out the different masks people put on and stubbornly stays true to herself, demonstrating her distaste for the two-faced behaviour at court. She spends more time reading books and playing with her birds in the gardens than she does attending festivities, banquets, or councils ( and if she does attend either of those it’s to listen to or talk with the bards and poets and whatnot ). She has proven herself a terrible fighter and tactician at an early age, and actively avoids war generals or soldiers – making her dislike for them obvious. On the other hand, she is known to slip in the kitchens ( is surprisingly resourceful when it comes to this, even though she later confesses her mischief ) at night and speak informally to the servants.

While teachers find her temperament easy to manage, her select interests are frustrating. When she’s not motivated she will not put effort in her tasks, unless perhaps Remo convinces her to, but he’s known to be lenient with her. She openly talks about her fantasy of meeting magickal bards who will steal her away for marriage ( or just adventure ). Rumours circulate that she talks to her birds and kisses them in the hopes of turning them into fairies. In many ways she is a child, yet sometimes she seems wise beyond her years. 

She’s passionate about introducing literacy for the common folk, and purposely lets her maids listen in on her classes or gives them ‘homework’ to practice writing, but other than that does not have an active interest in the welfare of the commoners and is thoroughly unhappy with the responsibility to care and decide things for them. She also has romantic views on what it’s like to belong to the common folk and often says she wishes to be one of them, unaware of how limiting, inconvenient, and difficult poverty can be.

The general consensus is that she’s better avoided as her lowborn mother’s traits show in her boorish behaviour and clumsy movements, proving that she has no place at court; wouldn’t want that to rub off on you. Some people enjoy her company and soothing voice, though. Mostly lower-ranking nobles of little consequence, girls a few years younger than her, and the servants she befriends of course. She’s also, obviously, seen as bad wife material. This might make her sound like a rebellious child but Ciri is not the type to throw a tantrum over things, purposely upset others, start fights or otherwise and would endure gossip and humiliation with a meek smile and, or if she reacts her words would lack subtlety and ‘intellect’, aka it makes her come off as an idiot and wouldn’t be too insulting to the person who insulted her first. She minds her own business and so long as others mind theirs she’s happy, as is also the came in most of her other verses. In other words, it all really comes down to her presence at court being very misplaced. Remo thinks it’s endearing and ‘gives the people something to talk about’, so he doesn’t scold her – protects her where he can. Silvan tries his best to ignore her existence altogether, though that’s a bit more dependent on the plot that’s decided on.

Possible situations, place at court:

Remo & Silvan are of royal blood, Remo being the crown prince. Ciri is Silvan’s bastard child, raised at court but not acknowledged by Silvan. Remo takes her under his wings and raises her as an important member at court, using her as a pawn ( to make Silvan seem more sympathetic/ involved/ as a spy under the guise of her talent as a (travelling) court musician/ to strengthen political bonds by arranging a marriage ). Little is Ciri aware that her position is a direct threat to her younger half-sisters; her being older, does she not have as much right on the throne as them? Whether her half-sisters see it the same way is up for discussion.

Similar as above but Remo dies at some point, leaving her back in Silvan’s awkward care. Silvan, convinced and aware of his own limitations as a ruler, would appoint her as his successor so he may abdicate quickly. Ciri resents him for this, ignorant as he is that she’s every bit as unsuitable and unwilling to lead a nation as him. Cue her trying to weasel her way out of it, or early assassination plots, or manipulative leeches trying to make a puppet of her; this would be a scenario where it’s advisable to look for a different successor.

In the event that Silvan/Remo are nobles or even just wealthy merchants who bought their way to court, and have come there to voice their grief about their village/ the Rroma etc. and thus lobby for better conditions, Ciri would mostly be left alone and treated with little interest by others, although she is still in danger of being an assissination victim, as it’s not in everyone’s best interest that Remo convinces the king/court of his right.

Another for if Remo passes away (whether by accident or assassination), better if he’s no heir but just nobility trying to improve the conditions of Rromani; here are actually some options for Ciri to want to actively partake in politics, if only to honour his memory & ‘fulfil his wish’, or even to uncover who murdered him. She’d still suck as before though and would need to rely on others to actually achieve what she wants: it’d be an incredibly dangerous undertaking for her.

Of course she can also be the servant or maid or musician appearing at court and take it from there, but then it’d be your muse’s royal au, not Ciri’s.

Anyway there’s a lot that can happen, catch me coming up with 25 more ideas depending on your muse.

Other things to consider ( on my side of the plotting ): - the position of roma in the society this would take place – are they accepted, outcasts, does it take place in a fictive court where they are a well-represented; is her heritage openly known or kept secret? on the other hand, could the roma try to use her existence as a means to get more rights and visibility in this land? - whether her gender is an issue or not. I’m a fan of not, of using a fictional setting where female monarchs are as common as male (meaning female soldiers and diplomats etc are also equally common), but either way works. - the stability of the country: is it peaceful? on the brink of the war? is there civil unrest or not? how important is it to have a stable ruler? How divided is the court, how many enemies are there? - Ciri’s popularity among the common folk largely depends on what they value/need. Because of her mousy appearance she’s not impressive as a strong leader who guides and unites the people, but her gentle demeanour can be useful if the people value benevolence and mercy - she will always suck and want to get out just know this. would also need help in getting out. - will never care much for a difference in ranks and loathes the titles and formalities that ought to be used.

#( au info. ) #( verse: 01. )

[iwritethat]

Fantasy AU

Dick Grayson: Forbidden

A/N: The final one albeit late! My apologies but here you go.

Warnings: None???

>>>>——————————>

Being a noble maiden of the kingdom was strenuous, being the Princess of Ravaryn made it even more so. With aspects of being the 'perfect' daughter and influential figure added to your shoulders it was no wonder you had phases of rebellion.

If anything the King should be grateful you even showed up to the ball, the congregation of available Princesses and Duchesses also looking for a husband in their expensive flowing gowns and beautiful features maintained the fleeting attention of various suitable noblemen. The amount of suitors that had tried their luck was credit to your beauty enough, but you were not naive, it was the title they desired and they'd probably have the women they'd flirted with prior as mistresses during your union anyway. Alas, to appease the masses you played nice and observed almost all guests throw themselves at members of the Wayne family, Dick Grayson in particular. Admittedly you found him attractive, but he could have a flock of women with simply a smile - it's been that way since you were young. Although in your previous brief encounters, he was always so genuine - you recalled him informing the young ladies that he was from the circus, hoping that'd rid him of the crushing admiration they 'apparently' held for his handsome features and it worked, all lost interest except you who only grew more intrigued. That's why you associated so often despite your father forbidding such a union, his past and lack of true royal blood didn't change how you viewed him unlike other monarchs. Even as you matured, it was difficult to keep your distance from one another, carefully avoiding your families informants and suspicion of other Nobles when doing so. Though currently, you'd managed to sneak out of the ball undetected opting to change into clothing more fitting of your disapproving destination.

.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be seen wandering the streets and many of the townsfolk favoured you because of your friendly attitude toward all beings regardless of species or wealth. So when you burst into your local bar, a wave of cheers and greetings sounded from friends that were deemed unworthy to attend the Palace event.

"Hit me with my usual~" You sung once reaching the ancient oak bar, the Faun bartender pleased with your regular business automatically slid over your favourite alcoholic beverage and proudly leaned over the counter to talk to you like always.

"I saved some for you Princess, knew you'd be in tonight or at least I sure hoped so. And by the way, Happy Birthday!" At his last sentence, the whole pub sparked to life with 'Merlin' the mage illuminating the warmly lit area in an array of morphing sparks and colours that delighted the senses, the iconic noir grand piano of the Inn belted upbeat music accompanied by the rest of the jazzy band which set rhythm into people's feet with your friends and locals dancing together. Laughter surrounded you with occasionally out of tune vocals echoing over the music as everyone enjoyed the surprise party as well as some humorous shenanigans encouraged by the constant serving of alcoholic beverages.

"Hah - bet our celebration is a lot better than that fancy pants gig you came from huh your highness?" The young Blacksmith grinned, offering you a tastefully crafted dagger by his own hand as a gift.

"You- you all remembered? I thought-" You couldn't even expressed your gratitude properly but they understood.

"Of course we did, as mates of yours we weren't distracted with getting you a husband like those nobles are. Now c'mon, enjoy your birthday your Majesty!" The faun enticed, lightly herding you off of your barstool before a handsome villager pulled you into the fray, you danced with them, next being spun into a witch coven who wished you well, your feet were non stop, being met with the paces of werewolves to vampires to townsfolk each twirling, dancing and offering you their blessings and suddenly the music halted with your new partner.

.

You turned into him, the man who caught you by the waist thus silencing all surrounding you by appearance alone. By the rich texture of his clothing and the golden medals adorning his chest you knew he wasn't local.

"So you thought you could leave all by yourself? Not very smart of you my Queen." His voice was smooth, tone knowing that he had one over on you with a playful spunk to it.

The accurate nickname was the giveaway but you gazed into the sparking sapphires of Dick Grayson anyway, taking the time to remove your hands from his chest.

"Don't call me that yet - shouldn't you be looking for a wife or something?"

"Oi oi your Majesty! The mans' calling you his Queen, don't that mean you're his wife?!" Instantly, one of the ale mugs was shot across the Inn courtesy of your favourite Faun, hitting the Blacksmith square on the skull thus knocking him out cold much to your relief.

"Well... I knew you were strange (Y/n) but I didn't expect to see you in a place like this." Dick commented, overlooking the less than regal scenery.

"Oh really? What's wrong with it? Aside from drunkards jumping to conclusions obviously..." The last part was muttered in a sheepish manner but the defensiveness in your tone was admired by your friends.

"Nothing, it's awesome!" The pure happiness in his voice surprised you somewhat, as well as the rest of the guests but you could tell they’d already accepted him.

"...You're not like the others are you Dick Grayson?"

"It takes one to know one (Y/n) (L/n). Anyway I saw you disappear and I couldn't exactly let you leave without me so..." He trailed off, almost embarrassed as he spoke which indicated he was hiding something and with an expectant look he would tell you.

"..."

"Okay to be honest the Ball was super boring and I only attended to hang out with you but you disappeared, plus this party seemed pretty sweet."

"What I can I say? My friends know how to entertain." You laughed, guiding him to a quiet secluded corner booth where drinks were served as you sat down to catch your breath.

"I agree, but you're not going to find any approved suitors here."

"Ah yes, I'm missing out on the blissful marriage to some aristocrat I may not even like in hopes of making the rich richer. He'll probably only cheat on me anyway, and so I doubt I'm missing out on much.” You offhandedly shrugged, taking a sip of your beverage.

"Ah you might be right but we're not all bad, for the record if I were allowed to marry you, it wouldn't be for my Kingdom, nor for the Royal Courts. They would matter but those duties would fall second to you, you'd be my one and only - forget mistresses or whatever they'd expect me to indulge in." It was reassuring to know that you both agreed with one another, despite this opinion most likely being frowned upon by the King.

"It would be the same for me if I were to ever have the pleasure of marrying you, you'd be the one thing I'd truly love more than anything. You'd come first."

"Maybe that's the real reason we're forbidden to marry, because it would be for love and not power." The male spoke truthfully, sheepishly running a hand through his raven hair.

"Are you saying you love me?" Your voice held a degree of mischievous merit, amused at the position you found yourselves in.

"That depends, are you saying you'd want to marry me?" Dick matched your tone, equally pleased with your wit.

.

“YOUR MAJESTY!”

Instantly you were on your feet, conversation long forgotten and curious glare directed at the Royal Guards situated at the Bar entrance.

“You’re with - It matters not, your father has ordered your return but under these circumstances, we are to place you both under arrest.” At his statement, the bar fell into silence and you knew that your friends would be willing to fight the Guards for you with no hesitation - you lowly raised your hand, a respectful nod sent to the Faun who immediately understood, they were not to involve themselves in this, those were your orders.

“You can’t, I forbid it!”

“I regret to inform you that the Kings commands outrank yours. By far.”

Your expression hardened at their honest explanation despite a majority of the group watching over you since birth, Dick placed a careful palm on your waist leaning to whisper in your ear.

“I can take them, all you must do is ask.”

Instantly your gaze softened as it locked with his crystal ones, you knew he was perfectly capable but that would only make the situation worse.

“No, I won’t let you get in more trouble.”

“Step away from the Princess immediately!” The lead Guard demanded due to your close proximity, sword pointed in your general direction. You were aware how your father hated the bonds you shared with an ‘unworthy’ suitor but this was ridiculous.

However, Dick obeyed albeit reluctantly - on the other hand, you weren’t as disciplined when it came to your fathers orders. As a result you pulled him toward you, hands placed on his chest before gently reaching one to his neck to bring his lips to meet yours with more passion than there should have been. You pulled away, both of you exchanging meaningful looks before turning your attention back to your loyal guards.

“What if I want him as close as possible?” Your words held mischief, playing with idea of taunting your father through the guards who no doubt would diverse the event in full detail.

“Then we shall arrest you... My apologies your majesty.” And they did just that, separating the two of you with their weapons before escorting you out of the bar with little resistance as you laughed under the flurry of witty remarks courtesy of Dick Grayson.

.

“So my Queen, I’ll take our current situation as a yes to my previous question?” His time was charming yet held underlying sincerity.

“Yes! Of course it is, how could I say no to a man like you my love?” Yours more sarcastic but truthful none the less as the Guard urged you toward the carriage.

“Then I promise I’ll do it properly once we’re out of this mess (Y/n).”

“I look forward to it.” You gave him a wink as you we’re seated opposite one another in the carriage - no doubt on the way to face the wrath of your father.

Together.

#dc #dc imagine #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #fantasy au #au #alternate universe

[s7-evermore]

Writing Research List

I only made this list as a research reference to help me when it comes to writing. None of the links here are mine, and I hope these links help other writers out there too!

Let me know if there are things you want me to add, it’ll probably help me too...

════════ •⊰◈⊱• ═════════

• Victorian Era

• Swords

• Bows and Arrows

• Ball Gowns

• Sneaky People (Assassins, Thieves, etc.)

• Classified Information

• Alchemy

• Addressing nobility

• Crowns

• Female Court Positions (Pt. 1)

• Female Court Positions (Pt. 2)

• Male Court Positions

• Ladies Headwear (Fantasy)

• Renaissance Gowns

• Royal Weddings

• Rags to Riches

• Male Clothes (Fantasy)

• Executions (Fantasy)

• 18Th Century Ladies Fashion

• Guide to Writing Queens

• Guide to Writing Princesses

• Guide to Writing Princes

• Guide to Writing Mistresses

• Guide to Writing Coups, Treasons and Treachery

• Guide to Writing Bastards

• Day at Court - Courtiers

• Day at Court - All fun and Games

• Guide to Writing Servants (Fantasy)

• Day at Court - What do nobles do?

• Day at Court - Manners and Etiquette

• Fantasy Guide to Medicine - Cold and Flu

• Fantasy Guide to Common Poisons

• Writer's Guide: Happy Scenes

• Fantasy Guide to Court Intrigues

• Ways to Kill Characters: Guns

• Ways to Kill Characters: Heart Attacks

• Fantasy Guide to Currency

• Fantasy Guide to Medicine - Burns

• Ways to Kill Characters: Poison

• Ways to Kill Characters: Stabbings

• Ways to Kill Characters: Strangling

• LGBTQ+ in a Fantasy Setting

• Evolution of a Knight

• Royal Regalia

• Life of a Noble Lady

• Life of a Queen

• LIST OF ALTERNATE UNIVERSES

• Hair and Eye Color references

• FEELINGS WORD LIST

• Plot Development

• Fantasy Guide to Immortality

• Writer’s Guide: Relationship and Romance

• Fantasy Guide to Heraldry, Sigils, and Coats of Arms

• Writer’s Guide: Time Jumps

• Writer’s Guide: ADHD

• Colors in Writing

• Writer’s Guide: Character Flaws

• WORDS INSTEAD OF “SAID”

• World Building Masterpost by thecaffeinebookwarrior

• Fantasy Guide to Ladies in Waiting

• Fantasy Guide to Writing Royal Families

• Wars, Battles, and Sieges: Causes of War

• Writer’s Guide: Flower Shop AU

• Fantasy Guide to Noble-Commoner Marriages

• Fantasy Guide to Titles and Succession

• Fantasy Tropes

• Writer’s Guide: War and Army

• Other words for "Walk"

• Writing with color

• Writing with color (Pt. 2)

#writing references masterlist #writing #writing help #writing references #references #writing resources #writing research list

[gwiiyeoweo]

When the world caught news the Lucian Prince was finally ready for courtship, dozens of kingdoms and twice as many noble houses sent their sons and daughters to Insomnia, all in hopes of worming their way into royalty and alliances — and all in vain.

Ignis Scientia is the 25th suitor, the 25th Alpha out of hundreds to actually pass the Council’s background checks, but he doesn’t hold much hope or expectations. Yet unlike the whispers that claim the Prince to be a meek and shy little thing, he learns Noctis Lucis Caelum is made of tempered fire and a spark of lightning.

And that’s not even the half of it.

Situational: Marriage proposals or getting permission to court Pairing: Ignis/Noctis Rating: G @ignoctweek​

“It shan’t hurt to try, boy,” his aunt had said, patting down the lapels of his suit and neatly tucking the pocket square at his breast. She had given him a quick once-over, turning him this way and that to make sure not a single crease or ball of lint escaped her sharp eye, then let the attendant usher him into the car, sent by the Citadel itself. “Twenty-four ladies and gentlemen turned and gone, but who says you won’t be the one to please him?”

‘The twenty-four who were rejected,’ he hadn't said.

Ignis Scientia sits in the backseat, the partition up and separating his small space and the driver’s — at his request — and he fiddles with the thin metal band on his left middle finger. The black ring is an accomplishment and an infuriating thing all at once. As simple as it is, no gem or jewel aside from the thin line of silver cutting around it, it’s the mark of approval every Alpha across Eos has been salivating for, given to only twenty-four — no, twenty-five individuals thus far. A glimmer of hope, a peak at a distant dream, that the suitor will be the one to win the Prince’s hand. 

And yet, it sits just one finger away from where every rejected courter wishes it to be. It’s a mocking thing, teasing with that faint sliver of what would be a black ring adorned with a piece of the Crystal itself, and it may as well burn his finger from where it wraps around. He can feel the faint pulse of magic ingrained into the metalwork, a measurement of authenticity to verify his identity once he passes through the Citadel’s gates, but it feels like a hefty shackle better suited for his wrist instead. 

When his parents had suggested he try for the Prince’s hand, he waved it off as a tedious effort he had no time for. The vetting process, the background checks, interviews, all of it a string of paperwork and nonsense he wasn’t privy to. It was a joke when he had said he’d do it only if they could magically do the pre-work for him. 

He hadn’t expected his entire family to work through the fine print and bring in their government connections to land him a slot as the next suitor, no signature or interview required.

   Ignis knows, in his early days of far-gone youth and blurry times of childhood, he had visited the Citadel exactly twice before, once in a school field trip and once under the guidance of his uncle. (He also knows, his uncle must have had a hand in all this, being in the Council’s ranks and all.) But he remembers them as portraits painted in watercolors, smudged and foggy where they cross and bleed into each other, and not as the towering pillars of stark steel and sharp glass he stands before. He thinks there was a boy involved, something about getting lost in the maze of a modern palace and getting rescued by a child several years younger. 

He cranes his head as far back as his neck is willing, shadowing a hand over his eyes and admiring the four towers and the halo of the sun just above them. 

It’s intimidating, and though he’s never considered himself one of low-esteem or confidence, he feels his existence a small thing when juxtaposed to the grand scheme of it all. He still doesn’t believe he’ll be the one to win over the Prince’s heart — has no plans to, really, because the weight of royalty has no place in his life — but he’ll try. He hates to put his family’s efforts to waste or toss their name into the dirt for some unsightly display of his character, so at the very least, he’ll humor the fantasy of being lucky number twenty-five.  

There’s no fanfare, no special carpet rolled out to meet him, and he follows his guide up and into the Citadel. It’s silent, except for the footsteps that echo off the marble floors and walls, and he tries not to let the grand architecture and careful stares of the guards distract him. When he walks down the aisle into the audience chamber, he expects to see the great King and his son at the throne, flanked by their corresponding Shields and perhaps some Council members. But there’s no one, not a single soul to look down upon him and judge his entire worth with a single glance or quiet snide, no King or Prince to give their approval or lack thereof. 

Just as Ignis wonders if they’ve all gotten the date wrong or if some poor attendant got all their schedules mixed, he catches the shake and sigh of his guide. 

“Like father, like son,” she mutters in her breath, shoulders going slack for just a moment before straightening out again. In that short window of weakness, she looked like an employee whose work deserved more than her current paygrade. “I think they’re in the greenhouse. This way, please.”

A walk through some corridors and long-winding hallways plus a trip in the elevators is how Ignis finds out the Royal family likes to keep a make-shift greenhouse on one of the upper levels. The corner of the southeast tower is made entirely of glass with just enough steel for structural support, and he tries his hardest to keep to the gravel path and avoid stepping on the overgrowth and crawling leaves. 

He also meets both King and Prince in very casual attire and elbows deep in damp soil. King Regis’ white shirt has probably seen better, crisper days and without dirt stains, and Ignis never thought he’d see His Majesty wearing tan cargo shorts surrounded by bags of dirt and half-potted plants. 

The same goes to Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum, who wears black sweats and a loose fitting tank top wet with either sweat or water or both, his hair losing whatever styling that’s been done to it. There’s dirt on his cheek, and Ignis has enough sense to not offer his handkerchief. 

Ignis had kept an open mind to how their first impressions would go, though he expected at least a formal audience in the throne room, but meeting a literally dirty prince struggling with a trowel and ripping straight through a bag of soil was not a scenario he accounted for. As the bag falls apart and the soil with it, accompanied by an amused King Regis at the expense of his son’s mishap, so does Ignis’ handful of plans on what-if’s and how-to’s. 

News outlets and tabloids, despite the exaggerations and far-off conspiracies, hold at least a modicum of truth; every rumor has to start off with some sort of foundation based on fact, after all. The media is a ravenous thing, always looking for the next big scoop, and Prince Noctis had been a treasure trove for the entertainment industry for the past year, ever since His Majesty declared his hand was available for marriage. 

An Omega prince, easy for anyone with a sliver of sensibility and a decent amount of charm to woo. Meek and mild, soft and ripe for an Alpha’s taking; a bit shy, but that’s just the allure of a shrinking violet, ready to bloom in all his brilliance once he found his dearest betrothed, they all said. Something of a recluse, ever since the daemon attack that traumatized the poor thing, with only the rare appearance on official holidays and always with his guards at the ready. And whenever Prince Noctis did appear in public, oh how the cameras would shutter, snapping like the ravenous teeth of the paparazzi. Articles would sing with praise of how handsome and fine the young heir had become, or go on tangents on his fair skin “from keeping himself within the Citadel’s safe walls, ever since the tragic daemon attack that almost took our young Prince’s life.”  

He was the rendition of the tragic beauty in those popular novels Ignis’ aunts raved about. 

Except, looking at him now, this soft boy the world claimed him to be, Ignis thought him anything but. He’s dirty, covered in grime and dust and with an easy grin plastered onto his face, his hair sticking every which way it can with sprinklings of what look to be seeds, and Ignis sees the faint beginnings of tan lines around his shoulders where his tank top doesn’t cover. 

The guide clears her throat, earning a quick snap of their eyes, Prince Noctis looking up from his hands where he was salvaging the spilled soil, King Regis from his son. 

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” she says calmly, but Ignis is sure he hears that barest hint of reprimand in her tone. “I present Ignis Scientia.”

On reflex, he places a hand over his chest and bows from the waist up. 

“That was today?” both King and Prince say in unison. 

Ignis won’t lie, that stings a bit. He didn’t expect fanfare or any grand announcement of his arrival, but to be forgotten so easily… Well, at least he has thick skin. 

His guide, though, at least channels some of his sentiments through a huff of exasperation. “ Yes, it was. ”

Ignis straightens up to see Prince Noctis looking not even a fraction guilty, though his father has the decency to appear apologetic — if only just a little. Regis offers his condolences, speaking something of time slipping away and how distractions came into play, but Ignis doesn’t hear much of it with how all his attention zeroes in on the younger Caelum. 

By all means, Prince Noctis should be looking more like a labor worker with the dirt and sweat smeared all over him, but there is no denying the charm and fine features he sports; there is something exquisite beneath that layer of grime, a certain allure no luxury beauty cream or high-end perfume could ever hope to replicate. That always belonged to the royal houses of Eos, and it could very well be a testament to his long-running pedigree. Despite the scents of soil and flowers and fertilizer, Ignis can catch the distinct aroma of an Omega — soft but subtle and surprisingly comforting. 

Even King Regis, despite the drain of the Crystal and his graying hair, that looks more like finely spun platinum, has aged like fine Tenebraean wine and still looks absolutely regal despite his questionable attire. 

Just. 

The near predatory gaze Prince Noctis criticizes Ignis with is unnerving. That sharp eye and oppressing aura, the commanding presence that demands and orders with sharp teeth and fire, all belongs to an Alpha and not to an Omega who apparently likes to garden in his free time. (The gardening part makes sense, something out of sprucing up a home, a nod toward domesticity and all that.)

Immediately he thinks his brain must be playing tricks on him. There's another Alpha here, sizing him up and seeing if he's suitable to court the Prince, somewhere hidden within all the green and glass. No way this soft and timid Omega is putting such pressure out, setting him on edge as if a threat lurks just around the corner. But no matter how hard he tries, Ignis can't scent another Alpha out. 

He barely catches the last of the King’s rules, the guidelines under which Ignis is allowed to court the Prince. 

“…One calendar month. Your room, while not within the same hallway, will be on the same floor as my son’s. Monica will take you to your quarters to familiarize yourself, but you are free to help yourself to whatever amenities afterwards.”  

Ignis is sure the “amenities” do not include secret vaults and restricted areas and that there will be guards lurking around every corner to keep eyes on him. He has nothing to hide, though, and no interest in deep dark family secrets to sniff out and sell to the press or hold as blackmail against the King himself. 

He hopes he wasn’t caught staring like an arba in headlights and bows once more toward the King, then to the Prince, and utters his sincerest thanks for the opportunity and accommodations. 

Yet even as he leaves, the skin of his neck prickles under that same cutting gaze, feeling the threat of broken glass aimed at his turned back and ready to strike at his vital points. He half expects a sword to run itself through him, but nothing ever comes. All he hears is the crinkle of that soil bag and the scrape of a trowel. 

His guide — named Monica, it seems — takes him to the elevators once more and they rise a few more levels up. When she drops him off to his assigned room, he wonders where on this floor the Prince must live in but clamps his mouth shut before he has the chance to ask. If he was privy to that information, he’s sure that would have been mentioned. So he shares a word of gratitude to Monica at the door, closes it behind him, and sinks into the oversized armchair by the decorative fireplace. 

It's early spring, but he thinks to toss in a few logs and light it up, just to melt the lingering chill of that gaze he still feels. When he strikes the match and coaxes the embers to life, and the goosebumps on his skin have yet to settle, he dares a conjecture: that the reason the twenty-four suitors failed laid not in any shortcomings of their own but in some aspect of the Prince himself. 

   Ignis spent his first day familiarizing himself with the Citadel, or at least, the few levels above and below him. He never gave much thought to how or why they needed so many floors and four towering skyscrapers to do whatever business they do, but after having caught a glimpse of just what happens within these gilded walls, he has a sort of understanding. Much of the staff, he learned, live within the Citadel — from the maids and cooks to guards and secretaries. 

There’s also an entire floor dedicated to just office cubicles. He had immediately pressed for the lobby when his elevator doors opened to reveal the hectic mania of flying documents and screaming office phones and the sound of at least five keyboards breaking simultaneously. It had been a painting of utter chaos and coffee mugs being chucked over dividers and across printing machines, and never faster had Ignis nope’d out of a place before. 

So after spending the first day avoiding the Prince, he isn’t surprised when a manservant knocks at his door, delivering an invitation to join His Highness for some light brunch. He accepts, because who is he to refuse royalty?

When he steps inside, a corner room with a fantastic view of the kingdom below, the hairs on his neck go rigid and cold under that familiar pressure. He feels that look again, that oppressive gaze of a lion sizing up a rabbit, and Ignis tries his best to keep his wits about him. His Alpha brain wants to snap back, to curl his lips and bare his fangs right back, to demand his due respect because who dares to size him up and challenge him. But before his instincts go too far, he pummels them back down with a hammer. There’s no other Alpha here, Ignis reminds himself. 

Just an Omega prince.

Which, really, isn’t any better. Because Prince Noctis is staring right at him, unflinching and unblinking, his hands waiting neatly in his lap. There’s nothing to read from his expression, as blank and indifferent as it looks; but besides the weight he fills the room with, there is something ominous in his unrelenting watch. 

Either Ignis spends too much time grasping at his thoughts or the Prince doesn’t like him just dawdling at the doorway, but whichever it is, it’s enough to get him to speak. “Sit down, don’t just stand there.” 

It’s as good as an order as any, but there’s no bite to his tone where Ignis expected one.

He sits across from him, and tries his best at normalcy. “Prince Noctis, thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s the least I could do, especially after yesterday. Like dad said, we lost track of time.”

Prince Noctis finally drops his eyes to survey the dishes spread on the table, much to Ignis’ relief. The tension dissipates as soon as he picks up a fork to push his food around, neatly separating his eggs from the edge of a french toast. 

Ignis takes that as his cue to follow, and he cuts his knife through an eggs benedict. They both take their first bites in silence, nothing but quiet chewing and soft clinks of silverware and glass, but he’ll take it over the smothering and suffocating pressure from earlier. (What even is that anyway? Did he somehow manage to piss off His Highness already? Gods.)

Yet he’s the first one to break the silence.. “This sauce is delightful. I wonder if I could weasel the recipe out of the chefs.”

“Oh, so you cook?”

Ignis expected a bored hum of acknowledgment or anything less than even that, so he’s pleasantly surprised to hear the interest in Prince Noctis’ voice. He glances up and sees His Highness looking right at him, and for a brief moment, he expects that same soul-piercing weight to drill right through. This time, there’s nothing but genuine curiosity — no bite or guarded edge accompanying. He also notices the air in the room has gotten lighter. 

Huh.

Ignis wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he takes the opportunity for what it is and tries to keep this new flow going. “Yes, though I’m particularly fond of baking.”

“You bake?”

If the Prince looked curious before, he now looks almost impressed. There’s the smallest semblance of a smile peeking out, the corner of his mouth tilting ever so slightly upward, maybe out of amusement. Or out of incredulity. Ignis doesn’t know.

“Yes. It may seem odd. An Alpha who enjoys domestic things like baking. I enjoy learning new recipes, the satisfaction of trying a new dish, the smell of spices and sweets and whatnot. Quite relaxing.”

Certainly, there are Alphas who make for culinary geniuses, who have their five-star restaurants or television shows. The top dogs of fine cuisine. But an Alpha who likes to dawdle in the kitchen as a simple hobby? Ignis has been teased for it more times than he could count, even his mother and father poking lighthearted jabs at him whenever they found him nestled in front of the stove. He almost expects the same from the Prince, but his reaction so far has Ignis hoping otherwise. 

“Funny,” Noctis says, this time revealing a full and warm smile. His eyes crinkle at its corners, and Ignis wants to believe it’s from a genuine smile and not from some practiced sincerity. “I’m not that great in the kitchen. Can make some decent eggs and pancakes, throw store bought cookies in the oven if I’m feeling it. Just not really into it.”

“One can’t be a master of everything, Your Highness. You seem to have picked up gardening, however?”

“Gardening? Not at all, that’s dad’s shtick. I was just helping.”

“Oh.”

“I like to get more down and dirty.” 

Ignis almost chokes on his eggs, but as quickly as he catches himself, he doesn’t escape the amused tilt of the Prince’s brow. His Highness doesn’t say anything more on that topic, but Ignis knows it’ll surely come up again. He isn’t sure whether to take it as it is or as an innuendo; he’s not even sure which one he’d prefer it to be.

“And just call me Noctis, by the way.”

   Turns out, Noctis’ words are more literal than Ignis would ever imagine them to be because the next day, he’s fetched for again and guided outside to the training fields. He sees Prince Noctis standing in the middle, facing a uniformed Glaive.

Ignis can’t help but look on in sheer terror as Noctis flies across the training yard and skids his back against the dirt and gravel. But he hops right back up like a champion, sparing just a second to spit out blood and dust onto the hard ground, and brandishes his training sword before chucking it at the Glaive. He fizzles out of reality the second his sword leaves his hands, and Ignis thinks he can see the ghostly blue trail after the blade. When Ignis blinks, he sees Noctis popping back into existence, pressing his sword against his opponent’s kukris in a showdown of strength. 

There’s a short stare-off, each of them grounding their feet into the dirt and shoving their weapons into one another, pushing the limit to see who breaks their stance first. Ignis watches with bated breath, hands clenching the arms of his plastic lawn chair, and he leans forward in his seat in suspense. 

His Majesty, flanked by Clarus Amicitia and Cor Leonis, quietly sips on his mimosa and looks far more peachy than a father watching his Omega son brawl against a deadly Alpha should look. The Immortal and Shield don’t even bat an eye, simply trading swigs from a dark beer they pass off to each other. 

“Money’s on junior,” Cor says, handing the now half-empty bottle to Clarus. 

“O-ho, someone changed their tune from last week.”

“What can I say? His Highness kicked that Luche fellow to the bleachers.”

“Fair enough. Guess I’ll bet on Ulric.”

King Regis clears his throat, and looks every ounce of a proud father watching his boy beat the ever living shit out of a soldier. “I’ll pretend I don’t hear you two making bets over my dear son.”

“Oh, please, don’t act like you didn’t rake in some pocket money over that training session.” Clarus lightly clinks his beer against King Regis' drink, appraising him with an upward quirk of his brow. 

His Majesty retaliates by snatching the bottle out of his Shield's hand and downing the rest of it in one go. Cor Leonis huffs out a laugh while Clarus Amicitia huffs out a grumble. 

But Ignis Scientia only feels faint. 

And, well, shamefully turned on. He isn’t sure how to process that. Bearing witness to an Omega who could actually kick his ass and make him eat dirt should terrify him. His whole life, he believed Noctis to be some frail prince made of spun glass — beautiful and delicate, showcased through rare snapshots and surrounded with all manners of security. 

He and the entire world grew up on the idea of a sweet and quiet boy, but watching Noctis narrowly avoid a boot to his face and counter with a lance to Ulric’s ass — where did that lance even come from? — it’s safe to say they were all fed damn lies. 

Noctis rips through the very fabric of space, tearing its seams and bursting them into bright blue ashes, looking all so alive like the flames burning in him. Or maybe that’s the actual fire spreading across the ground when he lobbed that glowing magic sphere. 

“Cheater!” Nyx yells, hopping away from the dying fire spell. “No magic!”

“Screw the rules, I’m royalty!”

Noctis laughs, vibrant and full, and he chases after the man in bursts of blue and white. He’s dirty and battered, covered in sweat and scratches, and no doubt he’ll have more than just a few bruises to show for; but Ignis thinks he looks radiant, here in the open air and in tattered clothes no prince should be caught wearing. 

Ignis isn’t sure what it is, but something clicks and the pieces quietly fall together as he watches the dance of steel and magic race across the field. He imagines all the suitors before him, bearing gifts of flowers and perfumes to lay at Noctis’ feet. They treat him delicately, just how society tells them how Omegas out to be handled, and try to carry him like a priceless Faberge egg — dressed in jewels and gold so soft he’d scratch at the lightest touch. They talk of nothing but drab things, perhaps politics and alliances if they’re bold enough, and domestic things a coddled prince might like. Tame hobbies and crafts, sewing or golf and the like. 

And he imagines Noctis looking absolutely bored out of his mind, listening to haughty Alphas speaking of their accomplishments and trophies and useless promises that are ultimately empty in the end. As a test or maybe out of his own amusement, Noctis brings them out just like this, to shock or awe, to show he’ll have none of their cooing nonsense. And the results? Ignis can think of a few. The “Alpha” Alpha, horrified and angered at the lack of modicum, refuses to marry an Omega who does not know his place. The “White Knight” Alpha who jumps to his poor Prince’s rescue, demands to fight in his stead and protect him from all harm (only to have his own rear handed to him). And of course, all the confused ones who have no idea what to make of the situation and decide to just leave. 

Ignis doesn’t realize the spar is over until the Kingsglaive Captain blows his whistle, and the sharp shrill and the hoots of onlookers pulls his mind back to the field. Noctis has Nyx Ulric pinned to the dirt, straddling his chest and holding a kukri to the man’s neck. Ignis thinks he’s won, until he sees the Glaive holding the broken blade of a sword at Noctis’ heart as well. 

Titus Drautos announces a tie, and they both drop their weapons as a result. Noctis rolls off and onto his back, chest heaving as he desperately sucks in air, and splays his arms out on either side of him. A hand hits Ulric in the face as he stretches out, but the man doesn’t complain and only has the strength to focus on his own breathing as well. Off on the side, Ignis sees trainees and guards pass coin around, having made bets of their own, the disgruntled losers paying their toll to the triumphant winners. 

When Noctis lolls his head over to look at King Regis, he flashes a tired but satisfied grin. Ignis isn’t sure what sort of expression His Majesty makes — he’s sure it’s of approval judging by the warm chuckle he hears — since his eyes are glued to just how radiant the battered Prince looks. Noctis looks utterly at home and in comfort, covered in dirt and sweat and bruises. Ignis has only seen tabloid snapshots that depict him as some melancholy little boy, scared of the world and quiet in his loneliness. 

Noctis looks far more lovely like this, he thinks, looking exhausted but alive and happy. Ignis gives him a weak thumbs up when he looks his way, and he ignores the extra little thump of his heart when he hears Noctis laugh for the first time. 

   “The Kingsglaive is made up of all Alphas.”

It comes out of the blue, when they sit for some tea in the outer garden. They had been talking of Altissia — Ignis of his summer vacation spent with his nose in their recipe books and mouth on a tasting spoon, Noctis of his diplomatic trip with his father to discuss new trade routes with the madame secretary — when he washes down a sweet biscuit with a sip of black tea to suddenly utter the fact. 

Ignis never gave it any thought, but it certainly makes sense to him. Alphas, the “stronger” gender, the protectors and hunters since the days of old. Perhaps some Betas could make it within their ranks, but having an all-Alpha unit isn’t beyond reason. He humors Noctis and takes the bait. “And you are sharing this with me because…?”

“Guess why.”

“Alphas are the warriors, the fighters. Or so goes the rules.”

“Or so goes the rules.”

“Well, you’ve proven that some of these rules can be broken. And I like to believe you aren’t the sole anomaly in the entirety of Eos.” 

Only two weeks since he’s started his courting, and he’s learned more about Noctis than he ever thought possible. The Prince is… eccentric, to put it. He’s something of an innocent brat, childish in that he’ll push and prod at his dinner vegetables but responsible where it counts. More than once he’s sought out Ignis for some excuse in favor of running away from papers and documents in want of his reading and signature, but he’ll promptly excuse himself to resume his duties once he finds his time is up. 

His cooking skills are rather poor, as he’s once stated himself, and if left on his own, Ignis thinks his diet would end up disastrous. During a midnight hour, he once found Noctis sitting on the floor of a kitchen scooping peanut butter directly out of the jar and onto some tortilla chips like a little gremlin child. Yet his one saving grace is his skills with fish; he has his own set of recipes Ignis has never tried before. Recipes he quickly jotted down when Noctis invited him to a private lake, where he rolled up his pants and dipped his feet into the water, casting his fishing line off the low pier. 

One would think a posh prince would rather be caught dead than wade through the murky waters of an old lake to pull out a three-foot fish, flapping and splashing and with slimy scales. Or that he’d rather read and write in his air-conditioned study instead of joining the royal guards and glaives in their training regiments, preferring to keep his manicured hands soft and clean instead of calloused and bruised. 

Ignis knows he must have said something right, and he keeps his self-preening to the minimum when Noctis grins. It’s slow like the rising beat of drums leading up to a grand reveal, and he certainly gets a prize when the smile parts for a bark of that laughter again. He wonders if the twenty-four suitors before him ever got the chance to hear it. 

“You,” Noctis says, lifting his cup in a toast to Ignis, “know how to flatter, don’t you? Playing all your cards right.”

Ignis wants to interject and explain his words weren’t as planned as Noctis thinks them to be; he only said what was in his mind, not stringing words together to garner any favor. But before he has the chance, Noctis steers the conversation away as do people of his rank do, eloquently enough that Ignis forgets what they had been talking about in the first place. 

It’s when he gets ready for bed, staring in the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth, that he realizes Noctis never really answered his question. He’ll breach that topic come the morning, should he remember to, but sleep comes easy and far too quickly before he can pin the idea to the corkboard of his mind.  

He wakes bright and early, and it turns out he doesn't need to remember. Noctis waits for him at the Citadel steps, leaning against the driver side of the famous Star of Lucis, an absolute gorgeous work of art and taking after its name, and he looks up from his phone to flag down Ignis. 

"What's the occasion?" Ignis asks, strapping his seat belt in. 

"Gonna show you something interesting."

That "something" turns out to be somewhere in the Kingsglaive headquarters. Ignis' nose twitches at the heavy scent in the air, the unmistakable cologne of Alpha that permeates through every wall and floor of the grand building. Noctis, though, seems perfectly at home and saunters on through, occasionally slowing to wave or pass a word or two to some friendly Glaives. A few even stop to say hello to Ignis, and he greets them in turn. 

"Do you feel that?" Noctis asks, guiding them down a corridor. 

And Ignis does. The closer they get, the more it speeds towards him like a train barreling down the track to run him over. It’s oppressive, heavy and hostile but tragic above all; he can almost taste the anguish in the air. 

It’s the pheromones of a full-blown Alpha’s rut. Not just one Alpha but at least a dozen he realizes as Noctis pushes open the double doors of the medical bay. 

Sirens go off in his head, fearing for the Omega’s safety among a pack of Alphas, and he jerks his eyes over to Noctis only to see him wear a face of utter determination and eyes of sympathy. Ignis keeps his mouth shut and his hands to himself, fighting the urge to grab Noctis and run out of there, as he reminds himself just who this young prince is and what he’s capable of. He’s seen Noctis train and fight against the Kingsglaive themselves, and Noctis carries himself with such confidence and faith that Ignis chooses to believe in him as well. 

“The Kingsglaive are all Alphas,” Noctis says, and Ignis remembers their talk from yesterday, “because they get the worst of it.”

At the sound of his voice, all eyes hone in on Noctis. Ignis expects that voracious, insatiable hunger to overtake them; but while there is hunger, it is a hunger for comfort, like that of a child frightened by a nightmare seeking the safety of its parents. There are whispers, soft pleas of woe and heartbreak, that even chip away at Ignis’ own heart. 

Noctis sits by the closest bed, where a man covered in sweat curls in on himself, fists clenching and unclenching the rough sheets. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. ”

And as Noctis coos and holds the Glaive’s hand, a thumb softly stroking over his fingers, Ignis feels the air shift and turn, the stormy weight of the Alphas dispersing like morning mist. A different scent overtakes the entire stretch of the bay — if not the entire floor of headquarters — and even Ignis falls prey to the lulling warmth that covers him, akin to an anxiety blanket hugging itself around his shoulders. He feels… protected, strangely enough. It takes him a moment too long to discover this scent is undeniably Noctis’. 

Ignis breaks himself out of the trance and blinks himself awake, and he catches the glance Noctis takes at him. Maybe it’s the fluorescent lights and the haze of pheromones, but he almost looks glowing. Literally.

“A lot of them are still traumatised, seeing their friends and family killed and their homes overrun. And the hormones just make the nightmares all the more real to them, and they’re forced to relive those memories again. It’s shitty, but we can at least help them through it.” 

Noctis explains, in a quiet voice as to not disturb the Glaives, how the ruts and hormones make for not only a violent mix but a tragic one. How they work as triggers, unearthing their darkest memories and forcing them to suffer through the pain of death and loss. How King Regis, founder of the force known as the Kingsglaive, discovered the side-effects of acting as a conduit and sharing the royal family’s magic with this small army. How both father and son could serve their soldiers in turn for their loyalty and sacrifices. 

“We protect them just as much as they protect us. It’s a king’s duty to look after his people, even soldiers — especially soldiers.” 

It’s an hour later, Noctis driving them back to the Citadel and in the privacy of the car, when he explains why he breached the subject and the reason for the field trip. He looks almost forlorn, not for himself but for the Glaives suffering through their inner demons. 

“Dad shares his powers with the Kingsglaive, every single one of them. We’re not really sure about the details, but through some weird Crystal magic voodoo, he sort of has this… ‘pseudo’ bond with them.” He waves a hand in the air, making some wishy-washy gesture but makes sure to keep his other hand steady on the wheel. Even if the unmistakable Star belongs to one Prince, royalty must obey traffic laws. “It’s not really an Omega-Alpha bond, but some of it’s the same. That’s how he’s able to keep them from diving too far into their ruts or bring them out of their dark spaces. And sometimes when it gets too much, I can come in.” 

But it’s when he reaches a red traffic light that he wrinkles his nose in contempt, making a face as if he just downed a too bitter cough syrup. “A couple suitors didn’t like that idea, of the king sharing this link with all of them. I’ll be king someday and take on that responsibility, but I guess they wanted me to be one hundred percent exclusive or something.”    

“I think it’s admirable.” Ignis didn’t really mean to say it aloud, not until he saw Noctis’ sour expression and decided he deserved to hear it. He didn’t even think he himself deserved to see all that had happened, to witness how almost intimate the picture Noctis and the Glaives painted. The suitors before him must all be fools then, to think about selfish desires toward a softhearted (yet strongwilled) Prince on the cusp of adulthood. 

“Do you? Thanks, Ignis, really.”

Ignis says nothing about the sliver of vulnerability in that tone and merely hums in acknowledgment. He wonders, during their quiet drive back, if his initial theory was wrong. If the reason for so many suitors turned and rejected wasn’t actually because of the Prince after all, but because the twenty-four before him couldn’t see past what society has fed them and the conventionalization of an Omega prince. 

‘Idiots, ’ he thinks to himself, ‘and I thought myself blind with how strong my glasses must be.’

   “For the love of the gods, would you kindly please stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“You know very well what I mean. That pressure you regard me with, akin to an Alpha challenging for his territory. As if you’ll eat me alive before you even bother to skin me first! Do you know what that does to my instincts? How they scream at me to retaliate and brawl? I am practically battling myself for my own control, and it is an uphill battle I assure you.” 

Noctis only offers a grin, infuriatingly wide and amused.

All Ignis had been doing was admiring the royal library, particularly their impressive collection of classic literature, minding his own business and perusing the back cover of an anthology, when Noctis came strolling in. He arrived near silently, save for the footsteps that made a beeline toward Ignis with such precision, as if the towering bookshelves may as well be invisible. 

It would have been fine, except for that suffocating aura Noctis sent out, filling the air with the presence of a hunter searching for its target. The target being Ignis, of course. 

“So you finally mentioned it. I was wondering when you’d finally say something.” Noctis tilts his head, looking the picture of innocence when he's actually guilty of everything. 

Ignis shuts the book with such force that it resounds off the library walls, and he shoves it back into its proper space on the shelf. He plucks his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he sucks in a deep breath then slowly exhales; when he opens his eyes, he sees Noctis still sporting his shit-eating grin. 

“Are you satisfied now? To know you’ve riled me up so,” Ignis sighs, putting his glasses back on. “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of it. Have I done something to earn your ire? Do you abhor the idea of courtship so much you’d like to scare me off instead? I may not have the finest qualifications to try for your hand, but I daresay my company hasn’t been all that unpleasant —”

“Woah, woah. Slow down there, Ignis.” Noctis lifts his hands in a gesture of appeasement, though the little laugh in his voice almost makes Ignis think otherwise. “Sorry to say this, but I was genuinely wondering how’d you react. All my suitors kept getting paranoid, wondering if my Shield was hiding around the corner and secretly threatening them, or maybe I really wasn’t an Omega after all. Some of them got really snappy, almost violent. But you pretty much rolled with it until now. I’m surprised you lasted this long.” 

A test, then. Noctis posed him with a test, and Ignis must have failed with his reaction. He’s already thinking of the things he’ll need to pack and how he’ll get his laundry the morning maids took the liberty of washing, but above all he can’t help but feel the disappointment rising in his chest. He rather liked Noctis’ company and all the quirks and habits that comes with him, each a new little fun surprise to learn and appreciate. 

“But anyway, I think you’re plenty qualified, so don’t knock yourself out just yet, silly.” Then, Noctis places a hand on his arm. If his words didn’t pull Ignis back, then that touch certainly does. His eyes are warm, no sign of dismissal or frown of disapproval to betray his consolation. 

“I… Pardon?” Ignis silently curses the way his voice goes just a bit weak. 

“I said I like having you around.”

“Oh.”

Well, crisis averted, he supposes. But it’s only after another laugh when an attendant fetches Noctis at the King’s request and leaves, that Ignis realizes the weight of the Prince’s words: he liked having Ignis around. 

   Ignis learns a lot during his one month stay. He feels like it’s all sacred knowledge to be kept within the Citadel vaults, yet a revelation the entirety of Eos should have the decency of knowing. 

Noctis isn’t a fragile Omega waiting for his dashing Alpha to sweep him off his feet, to promise him loyalty and devotion and a lifetime of protection. Because one, Noctis already has all that. He has the love and allegiance of his friends, the cooing and awwing of an entire kingdom, and a special military force that will risk life and limb to keep him and his father safe. And two, Ignis is sure Noctis can make any Alpha tuck their tail in between their legs and run for the hills; he's an absolute war machine even without the kingdom's special forces. 

Ignis clicks the locks of his suitcase and sighs, looking dejected at the band around his finger. He’ll have to return it, now that his month-long trial is over and both King and Prince have said nothing of further courting. He honestly enjoyed his time at the Citadel, learning and even laughing with the Prince and discovering some of the quirks that make him unique. At the very least, Noctis has given him a new perspective to regard Omegas with. Broaden his horizons, even. 

He isn’t bitter, but he’ll miss it. Miss what exactly, though, he can’t say. He knows it’s not the luxuries the palace lifestyle affords him, but rather something of Noctis. Perhaps he’ll miss the company, his frame of mind and the way he ticks. Or maybe — just maybe — this particular fondness Ignis has only recently acknowledged. He doesn’t want to say it’s love, but it’s certainly something that could bloom given time and nurture. 

Well, better to nip it now before it takes root. 

Ignis is on his way to the throne room, to give his respects to the King and thank him for the opportunity, but he halts in his tracks when he sees His Majesty make his way toward him. Noctis trails after him but picks up the pace when he spots Ignis, and his bright smile tugs at Ignis' heart in the most bittersweet way. A shame he won't be able to see it anymore. 

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," Ignis greets, lightly bowing to them both. He slips the ring from his middle finger and presents for Noctis to take back, trying to not mind the feeling of absence it leaves behind. "My month is over, but I am greatly honored and humbled for the time I was given. It is my sincerest wish His Highness finds his future consort, and I hope for nothing but happiness to you and your dearest."

King Regis looks… almost confused. He regards the ring as if it's some foreign object and he has no idea what to do with it. But then, he looks over to Noctis and heaves a long-suffering sigh.

"Son," he says, shaking his head, "You were to tell him yesterday." 

"I forgot! I mean, I was going to but I got distracted and Prompto came over with the newest Flame Insignia and I've been dying to play it." 

King Regis actually rolls his eyes at that, much to Noctis' frustration it appears. But Ignis is too distracted about this thing he was apparently supposed to be told yesterday to really acknowledge that King Regis rolled his eyes. 

Noctis, at least, catches on and quickly fumbles to take the ring from Ignis, but he keeps a hold on his hand. 

"This month was great, Ignis. This might be a low bar of expectation, but I just needed to be sure you weren't some arrogant asshole. And congratulations! You passed." He says it so naturally, as if he’s passing off some paper certificate and not say, recognition as a possible future consort. 

Ignis, suddenly, feels very weak in the knees, and he suspects he's only able to keep standing through Noctis' light hand on his, which is slowly and deliberately turning and searching for Ignis' ring finger. He tries to ground himself, focusing on the warmth of Noctis' hand and the genuine smile that dazzles like stardust, and not on the heavy thud of his own heart beating in his ears. 

It's a dream, he foolishly thinks. He's still sleeping and loathing the morning he'll have to prepare for his return home, and sad enough that he conjures a fantastical dream. But everything is too real for this to be a trick of his mind. He sees King Regis standing behind Noctis, every gleam and glint of his polished buttons and chains, and the warmth in his eyes and the smile of a doting father, and Ignis knows he can’t be making that up. 

And Noctis, cheeks tinted just a soft dust of pink, lips pulled in a soft and slightly embarrassed smile, looks up at him with such hope in his eyes it almost hurts Ignis. When he finds that ring finger, he carefully slides the ring back on — the same ring that once sat on Ignis’ middle finger and marked him as a candidate. The same ring Ignis, only a moment ago, returned to the Prince because he believed his time was up and the next suitor would arrive shortly. 

"You spent a month courting me. Now it's my turn to court you," Noctis says, as if Ignis would ever say no, "So what do you say, Ignis Scientia? Will you accept?" 

Yet another loop Ignis is tossed into. Alphas court, not Omegas. But he should have expected as much from Noctis and his family's quaint traditions. He knows there will be more surprises down the road, more breaking of worldviews and making of new ones, but Ignis wouldn't have it any other way. 

"But of course."

"Great, how about a fishing date?" 

"Only if you guide me through one of your recipes." 

He finalizes their terms by bringing Noctis' hand to his lips, lightly ghosting a kiss across his knuckles, and his Prince smiles just a bit wider at it. In the background, he hears King Regis mutter, in fondness, something about finally finding someone after all this time, before walking off and leaving them be. 

"Deal."

#ff15 #final fantasy xv #ignoctweek #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #i can type

[peaches-of-1]

(BTS) Golden Lover: Chapter 3

Namjoon x Black!Reader

High Fantasy, Magic, spells, gods and goddesses

Mstrlst in bio!

“Darling daughter?” Mother called.

“Yes?” You replied.

She nodded towards your plate, “Are you not hungry?”

You shook your head and set your utensils down, “Please excuse me. It seems that my sickness lingers. I’ll be turning in early.”

“I’ll walk you to your room, Princess.” Jimin stood from his seat.

“I can--” You began, but Father cut you off. “She’d quite enjoy that. Thank you, Jimin.”

You wanted a shower. You wanted to be alone with your thoughts and smelling salts and a few cats, but no. Jimin chattered excitedly about how beautiful your Egypt was. How warm and humid but irreplaceable it’s beauty was.

“Um, Princess? I couldn’t help but notice how you were during dinner tonight. You didn’t get some bad news, did you?” His voice softened.

The worst, “Of course not. I just...I haven’t had much time to myself today. I’ve been quite busy entertaining the guests, getting to know you all.”

“I wouldn’t lie to your future husband, Princess (Y/N).” He laughed.

You swallowed hard and his smile fell.

He looked down, “I didn’t mean offense, Princess.”

“I don’t wanna marry you. I decided that from the moment I met you.”

“I see.”

You looked at him, “Please don’t be upset.  I just...my father is making me choose a husband within the next two days, before the end of the festival.”

He looked at you, “We leave in three days.”

“Of course.” You sighed. “I just. I don’t wanna lose the throne due to my being stubborn. I want a good king to rule by my side, but I want to love him as well.”

“Marrying for love? You are a special one, princess.”

You scoffed and laughed, “Whatever do you mean?”

“As a royal, I would think that you would have given up marrying for true affections by the time of puberty. Often thinking instead who can help their country or prestige the most. However, you still hold onto the hope.” He looked up at the sky.

“Should I give up hope, though?”

Jimin shook his head, “Never. I believe love is powerful and one of the purest things on Earth. If you were to give up on it, then what would you have left?”

A small smile played no your lips, “You speak our language well.”

“Thank you, Princess. May I ask you a strange question? It’s something both Hobi and I were wondering.”

“You may if you tell me who Hobi is.” You replied with your arms behind you.

He didn’t know you were taking the long way to your room in order to speak to him more, but he spoke curiously. Kind but honest, and you could feel the amount of love he had in his heart. How he gave it to everyone and everything.

“Hobi is our nickname for Prince Hoseok.” Jimin smiled, “Would you like to prepare a dance with us? For the festival send off that is. We’re both proficient in dance, and your father was singing your praises at dinner. It’s ok if you don’t. Even if we cannot work as marriage partners, then I’d at least want to work as friends. Performers.”

“You’d want to dance with me?”

He nodded in ernest. It was true that you were often seen dancing in the square with your body covered in jingling gold. Oftentimes in the middle, you’d stop a robbery or something, but a princess had to know her people to serve them. That was your philosophy at least.

Back to the matter at hand. This Jimin was interesting, very interesting.

You nodded, “So, whose style would we do. Yours or mine?”

“I was thinking a fusion of our styles. Don’t you think that would be the most fitting?”

You smiled for the first time in hours, “I’d enjoy that very much. I know just where we can practice and teach each other the basics.”

This time, the prince smiled so big that his eyes disappeared, “Yes! Thank you, dear princess! Guide me, and then we can meet after dinner.”

Right, you were supposed to be unwell. You led him to the dancing spot in the garden where a stage would most likely be set up. The grass there was just growing back from last time you turned down a marriage. Then you both went to the door in front of your bedroom. As he returned to the eating hall, you snuck away for a quick swim.

A small meow was heard from the sideline, Qasab Alsukar. You told him to stay where he was and not to jump in. He walked to your pile of clothing and laid down in them. It was a stunning starry night. All your worries drifted away as you floated on your back, your twisted hair fanning out around your face.

You thought about the princes and were glad that you had been honest with them. Even if you wouldn’t be getting married to them, you could still be close to them. Having dueled with Jungkook, showed some artistic landscapes to Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok had become your dance partners, and Yoongi was your fellow animal lover.

He had even asked you if he could take one of the cubs home, and you said yes once they were a bit older. Then there was Namjoon.

Why did your heart do that everytime you thought of him? It pounded in your ears, and you closed your eyes to shut out the sound. It didn’t work. He was gorgeous. His smile made you want to smile. The way he treated a pet that was not his. Qasab Alsukar could’ve been a street cat, but he still showed the kitten the same care as a house cat. Kim Namjoon. (Y/N) Kim. That’d be your name if you were to marry him...or his brother. The way Yoongi talked about his friend, it seemed as though he gave that kindness to everyone.

Mayhaps he’d be a good husband...maybe you did lo--

The splash of a rock to your left startled you, and you turned to see who it was. Your relaxed demeanor turning stern.

“What is the meaning of this?” You ordered before you recognized the person standing there was the man you had just been thinking of.

Kim Namjoon bowed low, “Pardon the intrusion, Princess (Y/N). There was a snake approaching you, and it did not seem you noticed. I threw the rock to hit it or at least scare it off.”

Looking around, you saw a serpent unmoving in the waters nearby. It most certainly would’ve killed you if it had gotten any closer.

You turned to him once more, “Thank...you...”

But he was gone.

Ah! Dinner must’ve been over. You put on your clothing after drying off quickly and then began walking towards the meeting place for you, Hoseok, and Jimin to begin practicing. As you got close to the archway, you realized. Kim Namjoon had seen you naked. Your breasts had been above water. How long had he been standing there silent? You made a note to speak to him the next time you saw him as your cheeks began blazing.

Alsukar mewed at your heels, and you picked him up, “Mayhaps I should get guard dogs since you did nothing to warn me, you little rascal.”

He licked your nose and meowed. Too cute. As you went into the dance room, the three of you and a drummer practiced until morning. None of you wanting to take too long of a break. Wanting to do your best to show unity and friendship and just in awe of how well you worked together and not wanting to break the flow of good energy.

You were woken up by a beautiful serving girl. Bahr. She called your name and said that she was relieved to see you. Groggy, you blinked and wondered what she was talking about. The kingdom had been worried about you and the princes since no one knew where you had gone and they had found a dead poisonous snake in the pool where you were known to sneak off to.

“We were just practicing for the festival. Where’s Iset?” You dismissed her worry with a smile.

“Her room.” Bahr replied.

“I apologize for the worry. Please inform everyone that we are fine. I’m sure father will be happy to hear me interacting with the princes.”

She nodded, “Does that mean you’ll be performing at the festival with them?”

You looked at her, “It does. I’ll be dancing with Princes Jimin and Hoseok. A fusion dance for the occasion.”

She couldn’t help but smile, “Does that mean you’ll be finding a husband this time around?”

“Maybe. I think I’ll have to if I want to be next in line.” You looked down.

Bahr had been here for many years but spoke formally, “Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn, but...I want to see you married. If you do not love your husband, then you can learn how to. Then you and your kingdom will be happy.”

She kissed your forehead and left. Breakfast had been left on a platter by your bedside. You must’ve missed it in order to sleep after dancing for so long. Iset showed up while you were eating and scolded you for disappearing. She called you a cat what with the way you went where you want when you wanted to. She went on and on with her heart on her sleeves and then asked you where you had been after all.

“With the princes…” You said. “We’re planning something for the festival and were practicing all night.”

Iset raised a brow, “For the festival or just for you? Which princes? What?”

You explained yourself and promised it was for the festival, “I’d never fool around like that...at least with nobles.” A small grin crossed your face from memories.

She sighed, “Well, I’m glad you’re opening your heart. Do you have a favorite? One you could at least learn to love once you get wed?”

Namjoon’s stern and focused face appeared in your mind once more. Ugh why him? You shook your head, ans Iset gasped.

“Who?”

“It’s nobody!” You bit into a slice of bread.

She huffed and crossed her arms.

“Fine, Namjoon! I...he’s kind and he’s the one I’m most interested to learn about. I’m lured to him. When I think about him, my heart races and I think about him when he’s not around. I don’t understand. I’m not interested in anyone but him.” The honest words tumbled out faster than you could hold them back. Your began hitting your head. “What’s wrong with me? Why does he plague my thoughts so?”

Iset couldn’t help but giggle as she held your hands, “My dear, you’re in love with him.”

“I...I could never!”

She grinned, “Whatever you say, (Y/N), but I felt this way when I saw my husband for the first time and for days after. Love at first sight is a rare thing, do not throw it away for your stubborn pride.”

“Anyways, are you doing anything during the festival? You’ll be leaving soon afterwards as well, won’t you?”

Your fellow princess and best friend gave a nod, “I am. We’re planning on having our first child and being more serious about ruling our people as a couple and securing the throne. All that joy.”

You looked out and saw Prince Namjoon and Yoongi on their way to the river behind the rest of the boys just talking. Taehyung had a large smile as he walked backwards with a towel in his clutches.

He noticed you and waved, catching the eyes of the others who turned around and did the same until Namjoon bowed. Then they all followed him by bowing as well. You rolled your eyes trying to ignore the glimpse of Namjoon’s smile and the skipped heartbeat it caused. Iset stood next to you as soon as you turned away. She waved as you missed Namjoon’s smile falling once he could no longer see you.

_____

“Namjoon-hyung.” Taehyung called. “Do you have feelings for the princess?”

“No!” Namjoon blushed as Yoongi replied, “Yep. He sure does.”

Jimin piped up, “ I think she might have feelings for you too.”

The prince’s ears perked up, “What? How?”

He disclosed how while he danced with you and Hoseok last night that you asked about him, what kind of prince he was. You had said that you wanted to spend more time with Namjoon but were nervous to approach him.

Hoseok added, “She wanted to know what plant you were talking about when you first met? Apparently you met her before dinner.”

“Ah, yes. In the market. Her father was quite strict and she was walking around without protection. Her cat followed me and...it’s the catnip.” Namjoon cut himself off when he was met with blank stares. “I brought some because I heard there would be a lot of felines here.”

A black cat with a golden ankh necklace rubbed at Yoongi’s ankles, and he picked her up, “At least you were right. I’m glad, too.”

“I’d be a good husband for her. At least, I’d like to think I would be.” Namjoon continued. “She’s cute and I enjoy her personality. I er...saw her in the pool last night...nude.”

The men all stopped and started to ask overlapping questions.

“I’m not telling you anything! I just noticed someone in the water, looked to see if they were ok. It was the princess, and there was a snake coming towards her, so I stoned it before it reached her.”

Jin replied, “Oh, Namjoon-ah! So heroic!” He laughed.

Jungkook smiled along. The boys all talked about how in love Namjoon was with the princess, and he was shy and blushed all through it. The black cat was nearby the whole time. She bathed in the sun and ate a fish Namjoon caught for her.

As a direct son of the King, Namjoon had a lot of land.  A lot of resources but he was not in line for his own throne. That was Seokjin, but the younger royal was in charge of training warriors. Jin was in charge of money. Taehyung was in charge of agriculture. All of them seemed like they were good friends. Marrying just one of them could ensure so much for your people.

All of them knew this, but only one of them could marry you. It was obvious to them who they wanted it to be. Fishermen were nearby, shirtless and wet with strong arms from constantly casting nets and lifting heavy loads of sea creatures for a living. Prince Jimin watched the tallest of them intently, head in his hand.

“I have an idea!” Said Jungkook when everything was quiet, startling the cat and Jimin.

Yoongi smiled at their reactions, “It’s ok, kitten. You should go home now. I’m sure (Y/N) misses you very much.” His eyes gave a silver glow.

The cat meowed, surprised he knew the truth. Namjoon offered to walk her back to the princess, so he dusted off his shorts, threw on his robe, and held the beautiful cat in his arms.

“What’s your idea, Kookie?” the quiet man asked.

“Well, we all know we’re not getting with her,”

“YA!” Exclaimed Jin. “We haven’t even spent much time together. How do you know--”

Jungkook spoke up, “Why do you think that is?”

The oldest stayed silent at that and pouted. So the youngest explained a plan on how to get the two royals together. It would happen the day of the festival. It sounded like a good plan to the other princes. Jin was a bit downtrodden that the princess hadn’t gotten any one on one time with him, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance. He’d try to know her true feelings and from there decide if he’d be a part of Jungkook’s plan.

As Namjoon got closer to the palace, the black cat stayed close to his chest. She was adorable and the Prince thought about asking to keep her as Yoongi had done with the lion cub. Then the cat looked around and began to freak out as RapMon (affectionately called Mon-ie) ran up to his owner. The cat jumped out of his arms and ran as Monie barked and chased her into the Princess’s room!

“Mon-ie, NO!”

A strange flash of light came from the room, and Mon-ie ran out of the room and into his owner’s arms with his tail between his legs. Namjoon then worried for (Y/N) and ran into her room.

“Princess!” He called as he entered.

She looked at him. Princess Iset was there as well. The prince bowed, “Sorry for the intrusion, princesses. I just thought I saw...um. Did a cat come in here? I was trying to return her. Yoongi said she belonged to you, so I came from the beach, I mean river, to--”

“Yes, she ran out the window.” Iset replied, “She’s quite an outdoor cat. Can’t stay in one place for too long.”

She took a slight glance at you, and you blinked and looked around as if you had just returned to your own body, “Namjoon?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Please prepare something for tomorrow’s festival. I want you to show off your talents yourself instead of hearing about them from your friends.”

He blushed, “W-What would you like me to prepare?”

You looked at him, “Do whatever you think will win me over, Princey.”

The man bowed, “Yes, Princess. I do hope you feel better.” He then moved to leave, stopping mid turn. “Oh, right. Catnip.”

“What is it?”

The prince motioned to the plant in the windowsill that had cats swarming around it and soon lying down here and there.

“Cats really like it. The plant that I brought for you.”

“Oh…” You said, looking at the plant then back at him. “Thank you.”

He gave a flash of his dimples as he smiled, “You’re welcome, Princess.”

“I seem to be thanking you a lot.”

“Your presence is all the thanks I need.”

With that, the Korean prince left and closed the door behind him. Namjoon was worried. What could he do to impress the Princess in just over 24 hours? He went to the room that was prepared for his stay. Several cats had fallen asleep on his now relaxed white dog. At least they seemed to have figured each other out.

The prince stood on his balcony and looked out upon the scene before him. Sandy browns and tans that matched his golden skin helped to contrast the green of trees and blue of the ocean. Darker browns of people dressed in whites and gold popped out here and there. Namjoon wanted to write. He grabbed a notebook from his luggage and began writing, his hand struggling to keep up with his mind.

He wrote about Princess (Y/N). Her black twists like snakes around his heart. Snakes he loved, the tail of a cat. The ears as well, perking up to every creature. No. No. It was so messy. So unclear. It matched his mind. He was never good at showing his feelings towards those he was attracted to. Then again, it was a rare occasion. The last time he fell in love with Princess Wheein, and she was married off and sent away without him knowing.

They spoke through letters until she had her first child. That was years ago, but it still stung from time to time. Her sister was currently pursuing Taehyung, but everything had been put on hold for this trip, this chance to marry a foreign Princess. More beautiful than any of the words people had used to describe her.

Namjoon took a deep breath and remembered her in the market. That tattoo on her list. Remembered her at dinner that same night. He wasn’t sure why his heart hurt when he saw her conversing with his friends. Like when she and Taehyung were leaving to go on what he later found out what was a boat ride on the nearby river. It was for his little brother’s artistic inspiration. The deepthinking Prince recalled how his heart soared when, one by one the boys announced that she had only wanted friendship from them.

The word was on the tip of his tongue. The only logical explanation for his feelings. Love. But it couldn’t be. There was Wheein. There were all the girls at home and...he didn’t feel like this towards any of them. Not since he had seen (Y/N).

Before his eyes flashed the woman floating in the pool after she excused herself from dinner. She had seen so upset during the meal, so he was glad that she was smiling with her face towards the stars. His heart did a funny little tingle.

Prince Namjoon began to write once more.

Is this love Is this love Sometimes I know Sometimes I don’t The next line What should I write? So many words are circling me But I don’t like a single one I just feel it Like the moon always rising after the sun Like nails growing, like trees shedding their leaves When winter comes You’re the one To turn my recollections into memories Before I knew you My heart was only in linear motion

Yeah. That was a good start. It was the truth about his feelings. This was what he’d perform for the Princess at tomorrow’s festival.

#BTS #Bangtan #Kim Namjoon #RM #RM x Reader #Reader x RM #Namjoon x Reader #Reader x Namjoon #Black!Reader #Ancient Egypt

[rosesisupposes]

Destined, part 5

Modern fantasy AU meets Coffeeshop AU

Tags: Virgil/Anixety ; Patton/Creativity ; Patton/Morality ; Logan/Logic ; Remy/Sleep ; Dante/Deceit

Chapter Pairings: none

Chapter Warnings: Major Character Death

Reader Tags: @residentanchor​ @royallyanxious​

Summary: After centuries of acting as an oracle to heroes, quest-seekers, and villains alike, Virgil just wants to live as a normal, modern human. For someone who can see infinite probabilities, you’d think he’d know better.

<<Chapter 4 | Masterlist | Chapter 6>>

Read on Ao3

Flashback: Naverre, in southwest Europe, 300 CE

Prince Colan of Naverre was frustrated. It was not a pleasant feeling, but it had become all too familiar recently. Nothing was working as he wanted it to.

It had started with his eldest brother’s wedding plans. Alric and his fiancée, Maria, were due to be wed in just two month’s time. Inspiration had struck when it was first announced - this was Colan’s chance to prove how well he could organize such a grand event. The heir to the throne and a daughter of the oldest noble house of a neighboring country? It would take careful knowledge of deportment and politics, of logistics and timing. Colan was sure he could do it, and do it well.

But Alric and their mother, Queen Lelina, had brushed him off. “There’s no need, my sweet son,” she’d told him kindly, brushing his hair with a soft hand. “The steward and master of ceremonies have the matter well in hand. You need only be your handsome self and support your brother.”

Colan couldn’t help but pout ever so slightly. “Can I at least bear the rings?”

The Queen had laughed. “Oh Colan, you know the role of ringbearer is too important to waste. We must save it for a noble we wish to mollify, or an ally we wish to flatter. Don’t trouble yourself, dear. Why don’t you take Duchess Maria for a ride through the royal forest?”

Colan had sighed, and gone off to be a good host to his future sister-in-law. That, at least, everyone could agree he excelled in.

He knew he shouldn’t feel so rejected, it was just that… how was he ever going to be taken seriously if he was never allowed to do anything serious on his own? He loved his brothers dearly and only wanted them to succeed, but they both succeeded so much that there was no role left for him except to smile and wave.

Alric, the named heir, was already a beloved highness throughout Naverre. He had a working relationship with the nobles’ council already, sitting in with and without King Henri overseeing. The nobles gave and received counsel with mutual respect. And the people loved him too. Alric took biweekly rides through the capital city to mingle with his future subjects. Wizened grandmothers sighed happily that he looked a true king as he dismounted to listen to a shopkeeper’s opinion on proposed taxes. Colan had experienced it first-hand, too. There was no one better than Alric to vent to. His eyes would be earnest, his reactions kind. He made you feel heard.

If only Colan could talk to him about his current problem.

His second-eldest brother was Prince Bryant. Bryant didn’t have the same ease with people as his brothers did, nor was he skilled in the intricacies of policy like Alric. But he was a skilled knight and general, already making a name for himself outside their borders. His training master had once said that Bryant had the unique talent to see a battle from the eagle’s eyes as easily as the mouse’s, and simultaneously too. He could be locked in combat with an enemy knight or renegade ogre while maneuvering to defend the soldiers around him and filling in gaps in the army’s line - all without hesitating a moment or losing a second’s advantage. On his eighteenth birthday, he had been named an officer in the nation’s army. Three years later, he was second-in-command. It was widely rumored that when Alric ascended to the throne, Bryant would ascend to Commander General, and Colan had confirmed the rumors through industrious eavesdropping. In the meantime, the King and Queen had begun negotiations with neighboring kingdoms and duchies for Bryant’s betrothal.

And that left Colan. Left behind, leftover Colan. The public loved him, true, but he was continuously greeted as “the young prince” or “our dear little Colan.” He wasn’t loved the way a future monarch like Alric was, but like a child. He was a decent warrior, but his spatial awareness was lacking. He was an excellent host to foreign dignitaries and local nobles, and he kept dinner conversations lively. But that role was the purview of queens and hostesses, and besides, both his mother and sister-in-law were just as talented as he. In fact, the only sphere where he felt unparalleled in his peerless family was during the evening entertainment, those rare times he was permitted to sing, or play the lute or piano. But a prince couldn’t very well become a wandering bard.

There were days where he wished he could leave Naverre. Not because he did not love his homeland, but because he knew that surely, some other kingdom had a vacant role that would fit his talents perfectly. But the children of kings only left the land of their fathers by marrying into foreign lines, and even then, few nobles would risk losing their child to distant lands for anything less than a prince. Colan gazed out his tower window. I wish I could marry another prince, he thought, before catching himself. That kind of thinking was… discouraged, at least in noble houses. Marriages between two men or two women could produce no children and thus no heirs. Bloodlines must be preserved. “You must take care that your lady is not neglected,” his tutor in royal lineages had explained.. “She will be your partner, and mother to your children. Any dalliances must not supersede what you owe to them and to her.”

Sitting up from his window seat, Colan groaned. He had to stop having the same ruminations over and over. Sitting here pondering his inadequacies was no way to fix them. There must be some way he could be useful to Naverre, and to its future. Surely he wasn’t destined for a life of fluff and unneeded support to his brothers.

Destined. Destiny. That was it!

His history tutor had mentioned the Sage his great-grandfather had consulted, the one whose words pointed old King Jonathan to the land that became Naverre. If Colan could seek out that Sage, he would be able to seek his Fate. He could bring glory to Naverre, to his line, and to his name!

Inspired, he began to plan all he would need. The journey would be long and likely dangerous, journeying north and east to the White Mountain. He couldn’t disrupt or derail the wedding, so he must wait to leave until after. And his family mustn’t seek to bring him back, so he would need an official reason. What could he… ah, he knew. Maguelone. The province traded frequently with his sister-to-be’s home country, but personality clashes continued to cause bumps in the road. He would offer to bring new of the wedding to the rulers of Maguelone, aiding both Naverre and Aquitana. And then he would continue north and east until he reached the snowy slopes of White Mountain and the Sage’s refuge.

Pallas awoke from a deep meditation to the sounds of hallooing from outside his hut. He’d completely lock track of time, so it must have been at least a decade since the last Seeker found him. He stood easily, not a trace of stiffness in his joints despite his appearance as grey-bearded man of at least seventy. He opened the door to see a young man, energetic despite the cold winds and snow. Frost had coated parts of the boy’s auburn hair, but his eyes blazed with excitement.

“Greetings, revered Sage! I have journeyed far to reach you!”

“Welcome, Seeker. Enter, rest, and warm yourself.”

The young man’s look of determination faltered. “Revered Sage, I must know my destiny! I cannot delay!”

The Sage smiled kindly. “And so you shall, brave Seeker. But you have already done battle with the winds of this mountain, and must refresh your spirit. Once you have prepared, your destiny will be revealed.”

The boy hesitated, but stepped inside the hut, shedding his heavy cloak, traveling pack, sword, and shield.. He revealed garments clearly not meant for mountaineering. A tight-fitting jacket that had once been white was decorated in faded gold cords and a no-longer-brilliant red sash. Pallas frowned internally, and guided his guest to the fire.

“Young Seeker, while you rest, please, tell me why you seek your destiny.”

“My name is Prince Colan, of Naverre, and I am the youngest son of my father King Henri,” he started, staring into the flames. “My brothers will serve our homeland honorably and well. But I know that I can, too, if only I knew how. Once I know my destiny I will fulfill it for the glory of Naverre.”

Pallas frowned, staring at the prince’s determined profile. To be so adamant in what his future must hold meant likely disappointment.

“Seeker Colan, you must know that destiny is not biddable, nor can it be defied. Your destiny may not be what you desire it to be - but once you have been told, it cannot be changed,” he cautioned. “I tell you this not because I believe you are ignorant, but because I do not wish to remove the possibilities you dream of for yourself.”

Colan looked up, defiant. “I know I will be bound. And I know you cannot guarantee that I will found my own kingdom or find a cure for blight. But I know that there is a role for me in the world, where I will thrive the same way my brothers thrive. I just need to know what directions there are. I need to know I will have a purpose.”

Pallas gazed into the Prince’s eyes. He could see that he would not be deterred, and it would be foolish to try. “Very well. Are you recovered?”

“I am.”

“Then we may begin as you wish.”

Colan took a deep breath and stood, moving to kneel in front of Pallas’ carved wooden chair.

“Sage, I entreat you, tell me my destiny,” the prince said. Pallas knew he’d been rehearsing this line over and over in his head, wanting his moment of revelation to be perfect.

“Seeker, to know your destiny is to be bound by it. Are you prepared to risk your future?”

“I am.”

“Then give me your hands, and prepare to be bound.” Though his form was old, the age did not show on the Pallas’ hands, imbued as they were with the ancient magic of Sages. He clasped Colan’s offered hands, and closed his eyes.

Pallas had never seen such a thing. Colan had just one possible future. He would marry a princess from the north. He would help the future Queen Maria entertain the Court. He would serve in ceremonial posts, knighting citizens and presiding over new buildings. He would have no children of his own, but be a doting uncle to his nieces and nephews. No choices or factors that Pallas saw would change this. There was no adventure, no glorious purpose, nor even a glimmer of one. It would be a plain and unexciting existence for the rest of his days.

Without letting his expression change, Pallas shifted his magical focus towards one question: would Colan be happy?

He would consider himself contented. He would feel neither excitement nor passion. He would never be entirely bored, but also never stimulated. But he would be happy enough.

Pallas recoiled at the idea of giving a single fortune, with no meaningful variation. Hadn’t he seen how badly that went at Delphi? If just one outcome was decreed, there was only one way to avoid it - to die before living out its entirety. Evasion in life was impossible. Just look at poor Oedipus.

Desperate to not condemn such a passionate boy to such a disappointing future, Pallas  shifted the focus of his power to look backwards. Such a thing was unorthodox, and frowned upon, to be sure, but if he could just find a past pivotal moment, perhaps there will be a way to alter the future, even if he can’t see the future effects. This was what Pallas told himself, anyway.

His vision became filled with vignettes of Colan’s life, moments that remain foremost in the prince’s memory, whether conscious or unconsciously. Unlike searching through potential futures, looking through the past is constrained to the first-person view of the Seeker. Pallas lived the prince’s struggles, felt the weight of expectation and the shadow of his brothers.

Colan is three, chasing after Alric at 8 and Bryant at 6 as they race to the duckpond. He almost reaches their heels when an unseen root catches his foot. His knees smart as he struggles to regain his footing and continue. Silk and linen rustles as Mother appears from behind to pull him into her arms. “Oh my poor sweet Colan, are you alright? Don’t worry, you don’t need to catch up with them.”

Colan is nine and at long last has reported to the training master to learn to be a knight. The training master is a huge man from the far North, six feet tall, every inch chiseled with hard-earned muscle. A broadsword that he wields with ease hangs at his belt. Colan is bursting with excitement, ready to show how well and quickly he will learn. The master looks down at him. “Ach, what wee lad you are. Are you ready to train?” “Yessir, I am! I want to be a great warrior!” The giant laughs. “Weel, we’ve already got Bryant as our warrior. We’ll do the best we can with ye though, dontcha worrit yerself none.”

Colan is thirteen and Duke Rogero, his mother’s distant cousin from the South, is visiting Naverre. Rogero has dark hair and cobalt eyes, and tawny golden skin that contrasts beautifully with the bright white of his entrancing smile. When Rogero makes his first bow to the family, he catches Colan’s eye as he straightens, and winks. Colan feels his heart stutter in his chest. The healer had explained to him that at his age, he might begin feeling odd urges, and his body may react without his knowledge. But these reactions were supposed to be around young women, not beautiful dukes. Throughout his state visit, Colan seeks out Rogero, asking about his life and his journeys. He asks if he is married. “Not yet,” the Duke replies. Colan asks how old would someone have to be to marry him. “I’ve no real preference, as long as she’s close enough to my age to not be bored by me. Why, do you know any noble ladies here I might like?” A guard present guffaws. “You ask me, sounds like our little princey wants you to marry him!” Rogero throws back his head and laughs along with him. The echos chase Colan as he flees, tears of confusion and hurt leaking out of his eyes.

Pallas’ eyes stung with Colan’s constant need to be better, to be enough, to be more than what he was.

How could he tell this prince that his one overriding need with never be fulfilled? Was that his role here, as Sage? To destroy Colan’s hope of purpose, to crush his spirit so that he would be able to be “content?”

In that moment, Pallas rebelled. He steadied himself, making sure no tears would be visible. He opened his eyes, and pretended to be channeling the ancient magic.

“A split path within a tangled wood will lead you to your true purpose.”

There was technically such a path on the way back home, where the road split five ways at the border to enter Naverre and continued all the way to the King’s castle. But there was no true choice, no purpose waiting for the young man along any other path but the road home. It was an exaggeration, of sorts. Nothing more.

No - he’d lied. Pallas knew he’d lied. But the look of relief and determination on Colan’s face justified the act. If it preserves his hope, surely it’s a white lie, he thought. Destinies weren’t certain, the prince knew that, right? There was still a chance that the future he’d seen would come to pass. And… maybe it would work out. Maybe the sheer act of believing in another outcome would force one into being.

Colan stood quickly, a new fire burning in his eyes. Not one of desperation, nor of fear of failure. But one of determination.

“Sage Pallas, I thank you for the gift of my destiny. I will commend you to my father, and throughout my travels, the way my forefather King Jonathan did. I hope you will hear of my exploits.”

He clipped his sword to his belt, donned his cloak, and hung his shield from his pack. He bowed deeply to the Sage, and exited the hut.

Pallas left the mountain often after Colan’s departure, seeking news. Nothing surfaced for month, then months, and then a year.

Two years later, he finally heard news from Naverre. The country was in mourning.

One month after his descent from White Mountain, Prince Colan had successfully picked up the trail of a band of renegades orges. He’d correctly determined that they were heading towards his homeland. Instead of taken the road to Naverre to warn the army, he’d rode after the band himself, sure that this was the purpose that had been foretold.

The prince had thrown himself into a battle against ogres, outnumbered nearly twenty to one. If he’d succeeded in taking any down with him, no one could say how many. What was known was that the remaining band joined with many others  to attack village after Naverran village, and Prince Bryant had led the army to defeat them. It took them months to round up the last of the monsters.

It would be at least a year after his death that Colan’s body was recovered by Naverran scouts, mauled almost beyond recognition by ogres. Only fragments of his clothes and the royal crest on his sword hilt led his body to be returned to his heartbroken parents.

Colan had died in obscurity, alone, with no effect on the ogres’ subsequent attack. His family and country mourned, but recovered and prospered under the rule of King Alric and Commander General Bryant. Prince Colan of Naverre became a footnote in the nation’s history, a neglected branch of the family tree, frozen at eighteen.

It was Pallas’ - now Virgil’s -  greatest shame. And it was all because he’d lied. He refused to ever do so again, no matter the emotional toil on the Seeker. It just made him feel… slimy.

Chapter Notes: Alric - from German: “Rules All” Bryant - from Celtic: “Strong” Colan -  from English: “ Triumphant, Young”

I swear, I love them, I really do.

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