No one truly ever anticipates the ripple effect they cause with their daily actions. Nor do they anticipate the typhoon that appears once they’re gone.
You were the heir of the prosperous country known as Beruvia. Emphasis on the word were. As you had been legally dead for last eight years of your life; after you had been thought dead after a targeted attack on your envoy.
It was a spur of the moment decision, but one that would forever have lasting effects on everything you would ever come across.
You never thought you’d come back. That you’d never step foot into the castle once more, but the moment you heard that your father had abdicated the throne and your cousin would be taking his place? You knew that this was the final bid for your uncle to have the power he always sought for.
Will you be able to manage returning home under the guise of being a servant? At least for a short while?
Will you be able to handle all the heartbreak your death had caused to your loved ones?
Will you be able to find forgiveness? Not only from them but from yourself too?
Demo Features:
Customizable MC: name, gender, sexuality, appearance, bits of your backstory, and a smattering of other things.
Romance 1 of 4 possible options. All being people you had cared for in various ways in your life before.
Interact with the Royal Family— your family— and see how your death has truly affected them.
Will you be able to keep yourself hidden as you uncover the truth of what your uncle wishes to do?
Will you wish to stay? Or go back to your life as it had been for the last eight years?
DEMO
This story will be rated 18+ (Mature) for depictions of violence, blood, sexual themes, profanity, alcohol consumption, mentions of past torture, dark thoughts, and death. (This is a romantic fantasy story.)
Some more things may be added as the story continuously progresses.
All NSFW asks will be tagged #nsfw as a forewarning to all the people who do not wish to see it.
Sir Kalyn Belmont | M, 29 Years Old, Leo.
Kalyn Belmont was your best friend in the entire world. A man that would have gladly walked through fire for you if you only asked. There was no greater honor to him then being someone you trusted. You’ll always remember the wide smile he’d always offer you, blue eyes twinkling warmly, as he stood in various meetings you had to attend. You’d never recognize the husk of the man that greeted you on your first day back in Beruvia.
Appearance: Kalyn is 6’6” with electric blue eyes and golden blonde hair that falls to just beneath his ears. He has a muscular physique, sun-kissed skin, and a generally calm demeanor. Unless he feels like someone he loves is threatened.
Lady Isabelle Caine | F, 27 Years Old, Scorpio.
You never truly interacted with Isabelle that much while you were growing up, but you do remember that her silver tongue had gotten you out of quite a bit of trouble a few times. Her hazel eyes observing you with barely concealed amusement. It was only natural that she was now the leading diplomat for your family, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she had something more lurking within her solemn gaze.
Appearance: Isabelle is 5’6” with hazel eyes and midnight black hair that falls to just underneath her shoulders in curls. She has a slender, almost delicate looking, physique that belies a hidden strength. Her medium brown skin is perfectly accentuated by her usual penchant to wear red.
Spencer Alwyn | M/F, 27 Years Old, Capricorn.
Your first love that you’d never thought you’d see again. Not after how everything ended before you died. You never expected to see them walk through the doors during your memorial service that your parents hosted every year. The usual flirty smile on their lips, and laughter lurking deep within gray eyes, were completely absent. Will you ever be able to see them smile again?
Appearance: Spencer is 6’2” with steel gray eyes and light brown hair (M!Spencer has his cut short and F!Spencer has hers just over her shoulders) with loose curls strewn throughout. Fair skin is unblemished, except for a scar you’d never seen before situated on their collarbone.
Nathaniel/Natasha Blake | M/F, 26 Years Old, Aries.
Someone who is well aware of who you are and has agreed to follow you; despite your reassurance that it wasn’t needed. They’ve never been one to leave you alone for long— not since they found you half-delirious out in the forest bordering their home. With an abrasive attitude, never being one to mince words, they’ve always been surprisingly tactful when it comes to you. The majority of the time at least.
Appearance: N is 5’11” with forest green eyes and dark auburn hair (just over M!N ears and to F!N shoulder blades) that has gentle waves strewn throughout. Bronze toned skin is usually accentuated by neutral colors that N tends to prefer.
Art Breeder Portraits
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P - Picnic
For @myeaglesong...
Based on the song My love will never die
Words: 1.1 k
Pairing: Bilbo x Thorin
Warnings: Sadness, canon-compliant death...
Bilbo Baggins sat on a bench in Imladris and frowned, trying hard to get his rheumy eyes to focus on the timeless beauty of his surroundings.
He was Bilbo Baggins still—sometimes, he wondered if he would have changed that name if things had turned out differently.
The thought of Thorin’s secret name—reserved for close kin and spouses—made him smile wistfully.
His face was wrinkled with age and—on those discreet lines—time had written stories of love and loss in the ephemeral ink of precious tears.
From somewhere far away, the lamenting voices of a group of elves reached his ears and Bilbo sighed deeply as memories washed over him.
In his mind, Thorin Oakenshield arose—larger than life—and Bilbo felt as if he could almost touch his bearded cheek, even after all the years that had come between them.
Heroic, strong, and recklessly loyal, Thorin had died to defend and protect his people—Bilbo, on the other hand, had lived with the same goal in mind.
“It is time,” Lord Elrond said softly as he sat down by the old hobbit’s side.
“I won’t say goodbye,” Bilbo replied stubbornly. “I haven’t until now and I shall not start.”
“The world is changing,” the elven lord—who had loved and lost too many not to empathise with Bilbo’s petulant sentiment—remarked as if to himself. “You must see that, old friend, do you not?”
“It is not beyond saving,” Bilbo insisted. “Sea may rise and sky may fall, my love will never die, nor shall my faith waver and wither. He’s not perished in vain…”
Elrond did not make any answer to that—he knew well how it felt to love someone who had passed on to a world barred to the living, no matter how earnestly they yearned to be reunited with their much-missed departed.
“I’ve played my role in this tale bravely,” Bilbo added after a long moment of silence, “and my lad, Frodo, shall pick up where I’ve left off. I shall not bid him farewell either.”
Elrond knew not whether the prodigious stubbornness of the hobbit would withstand the forces moving against them, but—against all logic—he felt ferocious hope bloom in his chest.
He also well remembered the proud dwarven king who had set forth from his realm to reconquer his own and he sincerely regretted that Thorin had not had the chance to enjoy the fruits of his labours.
Even as they sat here, he was not ignorant of how monumentally important it would be in the upcoming war that the brave dwarves rather than a nasty dragon were holding Erebor—maybe, they would even be able to stem the tide of darkness and thus foil the enemy’s meticulous plans.
“Tell me about him then,” Elrond asked humbly and settled in for one of Bilbo’s long, rambling tales.
“He was not completely mad, you know?” Bilbo started. “Let me tell you about the picnic we had on the ramparts after Smaug was ousted and before it all went downhill so quickly.”
Elrond could see that the hobbit was struggling to hold back tears he had suppressed for long years as he opened his soul one last time to the most precious of his treasures—his memories of an adventure that had changed his life in a thousand minute as well as momentous ways.
“Food was scarce still, but Mahal, what a spread Thorin had scraped together for that one afternoon in the sun.”
Tilting his face up in recollection of the crisp air of an Ereborian day, Bilbo fell silent for a few heartbeats.
“How hopeful we were then,” he continued in a slightly unsteady voice, “how foolish. We really believed that we had put the worst behind us and that a life of plenty was awaiting us on the other side of a minor diplomatic discord.”
Quietly, he added, “I was hoping to be asked to stay—as a friend, or even more.”
The tone in which this addendum was uttered made it very clear to Elrond that Bilbo had dreamed of being the consort under the mountain and he cocked his head in surprise; Thorin Oakenshield had struck him as a fearsome warrior—sure—but the thought of him as a gentle, attentive lover had never once come to him before.
“We were happy,” Bilbo said almost defiantly, pulling Elrond out of his distracted musings. “Sitting down above his newly regained kingdom, eating simple buns, and cautiously speaking of a brighter future…it was the most relaxing day we had had in a long time. Would that I could return to that blessed moment.”
There was bitterness and resentment now, slashing through the peaceful, soothing picture Bilbo had drawn like a blade.
“You would change the course of history?” Elrond asked gently—he himself had often wondered whether, if given the chance, he would have prevented the loss of his parents, guardians, and his brother.
He was wise enough to know that such a decision would come with a steep price and would have unforeseen and potentially nefarious consequences for the life he now lived, but he was not entirely sure that he would not have at least tried.
There were many things in his past that festered like ill-tended wounds within the depths of his heart and Elrond knew that he was far from having endured the last of these terrible injuries life and war could inflict upon the gentle and the brave.
“Yes,” Bilbo said firmly. “If I could go back to that day, I would have kissed him then. I would have flung my hobbitish manners and my shrewd fears of commitment off the cliff never to be seen again. I would have begged him not to go—I might even have given him the blasted stone back before it was too late…I don’t know.”
The passionate madness that had filled his eyes for a moment died and his gaze was dull with grief once more.
“We’ll never know,” he sighed bitterly.
“You may not get to change history,” Elrond said in a low, soothing voice, “but you can return to that day, nonetheless.”
He laid a comforting hand on the knobby fingers of his friend.
“Close your eyes and go back. It was a sunny day, you said? What was Thorin wearing? Did he smile?”
Bilbo hummed. “He was wearing Durin-blue—and you’ve never seen anything as splendid as Thorin’s triumphant grin upon leading me by the hand to the ramparts. He truly was as a king of old.”
“I am sure,” Elrond commented softly, mindful not to interrupt or disturb Bilbo’s fantasy. “I’ve known a few of them and yes, they were a sight to behold.”
Thus they sat together for a long time and exchanged glorious stories about the kings they had loved and lost—and they promised one another that they’d find them again, come what may.
@fellowshipofthefics Here's my first entry for the April Alphabet.
Many thanks to the first requester @myeaglesong <3
-> Masterlist
As always,
Lots of love from me ❤️❤️❤️
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