#[royalty verse]

[imprvdente]

𝐌𝐘𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 @governmentofficial

Oceanne would have liked for her husband to share more things with her, but she could respect one's desire for secrecy, and never pushed him more than necessary. When it became clear that this was a topic he would not discuss with her, she didn't insist any further.

"Alright," she replied politely, well aware that he was not going to let her know. She knew there would be signs anyway -irritability, or even him simply vanishing into his room. For now, it was best to pretend that he would indeed tell her if he needed help.

"So you just need to suffer through this, and then you'll earn some peace and quiet," she hummed pensively, as she glanced at her book again. "Your father will happily spend all his time with the children anyway, so I'm sure you can spend some time alone when you need to. We'll be back home before you know it." While she knew that this would be a painful trip for her husband, Oceanne didn't see the point in rubbing salt into the wound.

The day Mycroft outright answered a question he did not want to would be a day for concern. A lifetime dealing with the public eye had allowed him to hone his skills when it came to redirection, responding to a query without giving away any information at all, and, the tactic he now employed, avoiding answering altogether.

Maybe one day he would open up a little. It seemed unlikely, though. Mycroft had always been a very private man. Even as a child, he'd kept to himself. There was very little chance that he was going to develop into somebody more talkative any time soon.

"I will let you know."

He wouldn't. If he felt the need to escape, he would take himself away from whatever situation he had found himself in rather than demanding that everybody else adjust to suit his needs. This was his problem to deal with. Not only that, but despite his nervousness being known among his family already, Mycroft still found it embarrassing that he struggled with something as foolish as an issue with being on the water.

Plus, he was well versed in attempting to find solace on the yacht now. Mycroft knew where he could hide to avoid others and attempt to block out the situation he was in.

"At least this trip will not be a long one." Not compared to some past trips, anyway - though, Mycroft's inevitable mood may end up making it feel longer than it is in reality. "And my preference to stay ashore is known, which means I can likely use my compliance to bargin for us to be left alone for a while once this is done."

If it didn't, perhaps they visit her family for a while. After all, if they weren't in the country, then nobody could demand they attend any events.

[crowns-and-claws]

I want to do a royalty verse and supernatural verse with my girls. In the supernatural, my girls can be the knowing human, suspecting human, or oblivious human that finds out about the supernatural being. I watched the Teen Wolf movie and now I'm all about it. Hit me up if you want to do something together in either or both of those verses. I think I'm going to put up some starters for both of them in a bit so be on the look out!

@indiestarter

[thewordfortheday]

You will be a crown of splendour in the LORD’s hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God. Isaiah 62:3

Our God is a loving and caring God. He takes broken people, people considered useless, and makes something beautiful out of their lives. He makes them whole, He makes them useful in His hand, He does incredible things through them. That's how extravagant His love is. Each of us could testify to this, how He took us out of the miry pit and gave us a chance at life. Not only that, He is preparing us to be the Bride of Christ. He's moulding and shaping us to be conformed to His image. He has washed our sins with His blood and made us white as snow. Now He's so proud to show us off to the world, holding us in His hand for all to see— a splendid crown in the hand of God. Yes that's His ultimate plan for us. “so that He might present the church to Himself in splendour, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish." Ephesians 5:27

[willthespy]

My favorite hobby is probably spending my precious time rendering art for random AUs only for people to prefer dumb little doodles… anyway i think about (runaway) royalty!nico a lot

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Best Man

Dick didn’t know what to expect when he arrived at the Manor, but it certainly wasn’t a flustered, obviously swooning Damian.

He’d came to check on him after another one of his balls with other royal families. This one being the first to be held in a place called the Infinite Realms with family’s from other dimensions and universes.

It was stressful for everyone, letting the packs youngest omega leave and go to other countries–and now other dimensions–to mingle and chat up princes and princesses like himself.

Unfortunately he would be the only one besides Alfred to talk with Damian when he first gets back. Tim and Bruce were stuck head first into a bombing, Jason was tracking down the guy who killed three of his workers, and the girls were away for a well-deserved vacation.

That left him to walk in and immediately be hit with the scent of maple syrup, sweet and earthy in a way Damian’s scent had never been before. Damian made a beeline for him from where he was sitting, obviously waiting. “Richard!” Damian smiled, “We must speak! At once!”

He let himself be pulled to Damian’s room, his mind turning. What could have happened to make Damian Al Ghul-Wayne smile, let alone flustered? Why was he so happy, because he was obviously, very openly, happy?

Damian pulled him into his room, locked the door, then pushed him onto the bed and began pacing. “I will first explain to you the way I, and by proxy every other heir in attendance of this ball, communicate.” Dick let him speak, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted.

“First and foremost, every little thing matters. From the way you position your hands to the tilt of you head, where you look, and even the position of your feet, every little thing means a completely different thing. This means that there are over a million–billion, really–things that you can say and express without a word.”

Damian looked to him for confirmation that he understood, then continued. “Not only that, but in the ballroom setting the order of which you introduce oneself to those in attendance is equally, if not more, important. As one could expect you go from those you deem most important to least. The shape of which you do these introductions also showcases this, moving past one party to another of higher standing.”

Here he paused, flushed again, and began fanning himself. “So, as you can imagine, a straight line means that you are the most important person in the room to this man.” “‘This man’?” He asked, some prices falling into place.

“Yes!” Damian said, turning towards him with a love struck, dazed expression, cupping his face and swooning. “Oh Richard, I met an alpha! The most wonderful, handsome, benevolent alpha in the world!” Dick couldn’t help himself; he squealed and hugged Damian, squeezing tight before setting him down next to him. “That’s amazing, Dami! Tell me everything—start from the beginning.” His little brother found someone! Someone who made him this happy—It was a miracle! Damian seemed very pleased with his reaction and grabbed his pillow as he began again.

“As I said, a straight line means you are the most important person. But what you do while you cross the room matters as well. Where you look, where you stop, how quickly you go, understand?” At his nod Damian flushed again, squeezing the pillow. “So, a straight line, with no stops, never looking away, and coming to me from the other side of the ballroom in less than a minute?”

“That means your very important to him.” Dick couldn’t help his high tone, Damian’s happiness seemed to be affecting him. Not like he minded; this was the first time one of his sibling came to him practically bursting with excitement about a potential relationship. This was a moment he would cherish forever.

“Yes!” Damian said, his tone matching Dicks own. “But that’s not all! The first meeting is also incredibly important, for so many reasons I don’t have time to name them all. But the first handshake can say a million things just like everything else. And since he was the first person I talked to–and in accordance to his standing-I gave a half bow to show I respected him but that I was also of high standing as an Al Ghul, dipped my head since he is a king and I am a prince and held out my hand waist high as an invitation.”

“And what he did in return?” Damian’s voice dipped into an excited whisper as he clutched the pillow and leaned in. “He did a full bow, bent his right knee and put his right foot behind his left with the heel raised, his left arm behind his back, took my hand with his right and kissed it long and deeply, all while maintaining eye contact!”

Damian pushed his face into the pillow for a second, then looked up. “And the meaning of that? The kiss? The eye contact?” Dick leaned forward, “What dose it mean?” Damian flushed again, his scent growing sweeter. “All of that combined means ‘there are no words in the languages we speak to describe your beauty’.” “Oh. My. God!”

“I know!” Damian voice was muffled as he screamed into his pillow. “And that was only the introduction, Richard! The introduction! Oh, and everything after was a dream.” He raised his head and grinned—a real, genuine smile. It warmed Dicks heart to see his usually stoic brother so happy.

“All while we were talking he wanted to know me. Not the Al Ghul heir, not the son of the bat, me! He asked about my interests, my favorite things—Richard, he called me Damian! You almost always refer to a heir by their last name because that’s what’s important to you. But he called me only Damian! I was important to him!”

Dick couldn’t help but laugh as he asked, “You called him by his name, right? Oh! His name! What’s his name? And you said he was a king, what’s he the king of?” Damian blushed–blushed!–and nodded. “Yes, it was only appropriate. His name is Daniel Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms, the afterlife dimension. Simply put, every afterlife that exists is located in this dimension.”

“Oooo, do you think there’s a queen? If the seats open~” Damian blushed at the implication, pushing his face into his pillow again and taking slow breaths. He was a little concerned about the whole ‘king of the afterlife’ thing–and wait, wasn’t the ball held in the Infinite Realms? Does that mean Damian was in the afterlife?–but if the Percy Jackson books have taught him anything it’s that the specifics matter. King of the afterlife is different from king of the dead or death itself.

“No, there is no queen. Daniel was only recently crowned after defeating Pariah Dark, the previous king and tyrant. Oh, I almost forgot to mention! You remember how the JLD marked Amity Park, Illinois an area of concern and in less that 72 hours lifted the warning without doing anything?” “Yeah, drove B crazy cus’ they wouldn’t say why or how or what happened.” “It was Daniel and Pariah Dark fighting for the throne!”

“What? Back up a bit,” Dick asked, confused. “What do you mean ‘it was him’?” Damian’s eyes shined as he explained. “Apparently, the entirety of Amity Park–Daniels home town–was dragged into the Infinite Realms due to Pariah Dark waking up and attacking! Daniel had to fight Pariah Dark to stop him from continuing his assault of this earth and the surrounding dimensions and universes, which is why he was trapped in the forever sleep.”

Damian swooned again, hugging his pillow as he sighed, “He saved not only earth but the surrounding multiverse, and confined in me that he didn’t even know he would become king! He said that the only thing that mattered to him was keeping everybody safe! Isn’t it heroic?” Dick expressed his agreement, making a mental note to tell all this to Bruce. He’d want to know about a kid Damian’s age who’s saved the multiverse seemingly all by himself.

Which reminded him, “How old is he?” Didn’t want another Midnighter situation. Damian’s advances on his first crush were hell to handle. “He’s one year my elder, and oh Grayson I was not exaggerating when I said he is gorgeous. He—well, hm.”

Damian paused and then pulled out his phone. “Please allow me a moment to acquire the correct knowledge of the colors blue, white, green and black so I can accurately portray to you just how otherworldly beautiful Daniel is.” Dick let him pursue the internet for a while, mentally filling out the start of a report form for Bruce. He returned his attention to Damian when he was ready.

“Now fully educated I can describe him in the detail he deserves. His skin is colored light blue grey and his face, possibly his whole body, is covered in freckles that take the shape of constellations colored passport blue. His hair is a dancing flame pulled back into a ponytail colored Mint cream, a greenish shade of white. His eyes are Lazarus colored, as is his tongue and blood. His teeth are sharp canines, piercing skin easily.”

A little worried how he knew that, but Dick would ask later. “His crown, the Crown of Fire, is a halo of Vantablack ice. The other piece showcasing his status is the Ring of Rage, colored same shade of black with a gemstone colored Carmine red.”

Damian sighed dreamily. “He was dressed elegantly, a Lazarus green suit vest over a vantablack button up and tie. His cape was clasped around his shoulders with a gold chain, pure white on the outside but a galaxy on the inside. It moved, Richard. He told me it changed galaxies and that at the moment it was showing the galaxy of dimension 62V-K.”

“Richard,” Damian said softly, his face flushed and eyes shining. “When he took my hand….I shivered. At first I thought nothing of it, but the longer I stood by his side it became harder and harder to deny it. His scent was….attractive. Like hickory and rain, maple and lightning. He smelled like a rolling thunderstorm, a summer morning.”

“I wanted to be closer, to drown in his scent. But it wasn’t just me.” Dick was certain he was about to die. It wasn’t just him? Oh no. “Were there others?” Dick asked worryingly. Damian blushed more, shaking his head then pushing his face into his pillow. When he raised his head he looked dazed. “It wasn’t just me, Richard. He...My scent…we were in the garden when he brought it up.”

“He’d wanted to show me the animals in the sanctuary, star seals and pomerantulas. We were sitting under a wysteria tree watching them roam. We were….I guess you would call it ‘cuddling’. Just…leaning against and holding each other. His arm was wrapped around my waist while his other held my hand.”

Damian blushed again and pushed his face back into the pillow as Dick ‘aww’ed. He raised his head once more and continued. “He turned to me and told me he couldn’t contain his desire any longer. When I asked what he meant…..” Damian took deep breath.

“He asked to smell my scent gland.” Dick blue screened for a moment. “He WHAT!?” He leaned forward, thinking he had misheard. Asking to smell a scent gland was more than a big deal. It was practically a mini proposal! “Did–what did you say?” Damian smiled again. “I said yes. He pulled my hand and put his lips to my wrist gland. He inhaled deeply and shivered. Richard, he growled.”

“He kissed my gland and told me it was taking all his strength and willpower not to mark me as his mate right that second. I…I didn’t know how to respond, and without thinking I told him he could scent me if I could scent him.” Dick gaped at him. Damian was very particular about physical contact, even more so about scenting. For him to ask an alpha to scent him, to ask if he could scent him—Damian was more than interested.

“He immediately agreed, and then….” Damian paused and Dick thought his head was going to explode from how red it was. “Theeeen??” Dick inquired. “Oh Richard, he pulled me onto his lap and against his chest.” Damian fell back into the bed, still clutching his pillow. “He began scenting and kissing my neck, telling me he wanted me in ways he didn’t know how to describe.”

Damian sighed dreamily. “He told me he wanted to court me, to make me feel like the most special and important person in the multiverse because that’s was I was to him. That he wanted to spread every waking and resting moment with me. Richard, he asked my opinion on children.”

“Oh and scenting him was heaven,” Damian swooned again, “to claim him as my alpha, even in the smallest ways, made my head spin. Richard….I began kissing his neck.” Dicks jaw was so open it was practically in the batcave. “You kissed him?? His scent gland?? Did he like it? What did you say to him???”

Damian nodded, eyes blown wide with a smile on his face. “I told him I accept his advances and that I wanted to mate as soon as possible. I told him I’d never wanted anyone–anything–more than I wanted to be his omega. That I wanted him to be my alpha. And then…. Oh it was so foolish and irresponsible of me to do, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” Damian put a hand over his heart.

“I kissed him.” Dick gasped. “Wh–did he kiss back?” “Yes!” Damian said, sitting up. “He kissed me back! It was so….soft at first, but then—oh it’s embarrassing to say.” Dick clasped his hands together. “ please please pleaseeeeee tell meeeee. You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger!” Damian laughed a little, laughing louder when Dick pulled him into a hug, still pleading.

“Ok, ok, I will tell you!” He giggled, allowing Dick to keep hugging him, which said a lot about how happy he was. “We–well, I don’t really know how, but one moment we were sitting up and the next he had me pinned to the ground.” Dick choked. Damian only laughed again. “Yes, I was surprised as well. He—we were…” Damian cleared his throat.

“….I believe it’s called ‘French kissing.’” Damian his his face in his hands at Dicks scandalized gasp. “It…was so warm. He tasted wonderful, and I wanted it to continue forever. I….I’ve never been more impulsive than I was in that moment. I put my hands in his hair–and I’m surprised it didn’t burn me–but anyways, I pulled him closer to me. But it wasn’t enough.”

Damian laughed a little, peeking through his fingers. “I…ha…I flipped us. So I was–dear lord Richard, I was sitting on his lap! I was straddling him!” Dick gasped again. “My baby brother, straddling someone? Oh pinch me, I think I’m dreaming!” He teased, smiling as Damian pinched him. “It certainly felt like a dream.” Damian sighed.

“Did he like it?” Damian hid his face again. “Yes, very much. I could smell and….feel him, if you understand.” Oh my god. Dick ‘ooo’ed and Damian laughed airily. “He obviously liked it, but did you?” Dick laughed as Damian squeaked, gasping again at his small nod. “Ooohhhh my little brother is growing uuupp,” he cried, hugging him again. “He has a boyfriend, he’s being courted, pretty soon you’ll be mated; it’s too much! Just yesterday you were eight!”

Damian didn’t try to push him away, leaning into him instead. “You are ok with this?” He asked hopefully, “You will allow him to court me?” Dick pulled back so he could look at Damian fully. “Damian, I’ve never seen you more happy than you are now. If this alpha can make you smile and laugh like this just after the first meeting, he has more than my blessing. He should be more worried about what I’ll do to him if he doesn’t court you.”

Damian laughed happily, hugging him. “I am very glad. I was worried you’d be against it, for I know Father will be.” He had a good point. Bruce went over-protectively ballistic when he found out Roy and Kori were courting Jason. When he finds out Daniel is the fucking King of the afterlife? It’ll take every super to hold him back from going to the Infinite Realms and interrogating it’s king.

“After a few minutes of, um….kissing, he pulled back rather quickly, so quickly in fact that I believed I’d done something wrong. Thankfully that was not the case.” Damian said, continuing after a moment. “I’d asked him and he quickly told me that I’d done nothing wrong, and that—that I was perfect. He said that he was having trouble controlling himself, and that if we continued…”

“Oh my god.” Dick whispered. “Damian, show me your neck right now.” Damian gasped and almost shrieked a scandalized ‘RICHARD!’ as Dick pulled at his shirt. Thankfully, there were no marks, some light bruises, but that was normal with kissing. He allowed Damian to smack his arm after. “How irresponsible do you believe me to be?! I tell you I do something without thinking once and suddenly you treat me like a harlot!?” Dick laughed as he apologized, conceding that it had been a little rude. Damian took a moment to collect himself before continuing.

“It is embarrassing to say, but while we were, ahem….busy, his sister appeared to inform us the ball would soon be over and Daniel had to give his closing speech as the host.” Dick laughed at Damian’s expression. He knew the mortifying feeling of a sibling walking in while you were making out with someone, and was glad Damian got to experience it.

“Her name is Jasmine, and I do hope you do not meet. I know your history with tall redheads.” He laughed again at Damians expression. “But more importantly, after Daniels speech he gave me a courting gift.” Dick gasped and watched as Damian quickly went to his dresser and dug under everything to bring out a small black box.

Damian came back and sat down next to him, opening it to reveal a ring. It was a green gemstone with a black band. The band was carved into a blooming flower with the gem in the center with leafs coming out the sides slightly. The gemstone wasn’t one of this world, or dimension most likely. The color changed shades of green depending on the light, the cut changing with it. To the left it was zigzags, to the rights it was a jagged bismuth, and when Damian pulled it back Dick saw it change to liquid.

Damian pulled it out and put it on his left ring finger, and Dick watched as it changed shape to fit his finger. Damian sighed dreamily as he turned his hand this way and that, tracing the gem with his other thumb. “He told me this was his mothers wedding ring, and that she had given her engagement ring to his sister and her wedding ring to him. Apparently his father created this jewel for his mother and carved the band, and he said he’d do the same for my wedding band.”

“Man, Daniel knows how to make a move!” Dick whistled as he took Damian’s hand to see the ring better. “I’ve seen some amazing courting gifts in my day, but his mothers wedding ring as the first gift? You said his dad made this gem for his mom? Does that mean he’s going to make the same gem for you?” Damian blushed as Dick admired the ring.

“I believe so, since according to Daniel this gem is currently the only one in existence, making my wedding ring the second.” Damian stopped for a second, making Dick pause too. Damian was still and silent for about thirty seconds before he exclaimed “My god, it’s a tradition!” Dick blinked. “..what?” “It’s a family tradition! It’s something his father did, he’ll do, and our children will do as well! It’s generational!”

Damian was fanning himself and blushing again, and Dick couldn’t help but laugh. Of course thats what does it. A tradition. And probably also the fact that Daniel was already talking about their wedding. Damian was also going on and on about the wedding, who would be there and what type of flowers and what he would wear.

“Father and Mother will walk me down the aisle, of course, and Jon will be groomsman as well as Colin, Jason, Tim, and Duke.” Dick raised an eyebrow. “What about me?” Damian smiled at him. “You’ll be my best man, of course.”

[scifrey]

FANFICTION MASTERPOST

Hob Adherent Series

(The Sandman, extended Gaiman-verse)

Hob Gadling is a clingy bastard, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. He clings to life. He clings to hope. He clings to his love of humanity. He clings to his Stranger. He also, unfortunately, has a habit of clinging to his name.

Which means that when the BBC is looking for a new pet history expert to appear in their educational docudrama series “Elizabethan Manor,” they’re overjoyed to find a professor who (according to their meticulous research) is actually descended from the Master of the National Trust building they’re filming in - Gadlen House.

Only Hob knows how right they are.

Cling Fast

Carpe Diem

Hold Tight 

Keepsakes

The F-Words Series (the Rovai-verse)

(Loki, MCU; based on the art of @alicerovai)

Loki has fallen for false promises, fallen for Odin's lies, fallen off of a bridge, fallen into the wrong hands... can he let himself fall into the arms of a potential rescuer? Or will he just end up falling for another trick?

Fall

Fold 

Fight

Flirt 

Forgive 

To A Stranger

(Sherlock, Performance in a Leading Role by @madlori)

Here - for the first time - is the screenplay for the unexpected and sizzling hit which swept awards shows; was lauded in Time, Variety, and major publications the world over; snagged a Best Actor Oscar for first-time nominee John Watson; heralded a revolution in LQBTQA+ cinema; and was the catalyst for the incredible romantic journey of two of the greatest actors of our generation.

The Heart of the TARDIS

Rose: Feels to me like a temper tantrum because it can't get it's own way.

The Doctor: It's scared. Come on, you were a kid once.

Rose: Yes, and I know what kids can be like. Right little terrors. I've got cousins. Kids can't have it all their own way. That's part of being a family.

The Doctor: What about trying to understand them?

Rose: Easy for you to say. You don't have kids.

The Doctor: I was a Dad once.

Rose: What did you say?

--"Fear Her"

Respected

(Stargate: Atlantis, Torchwood)

Ianto Jones only wanted a nice, quiet beer. And maybe some damned respect, already.

Tobogganing Series

(Stargate: Atlantis, Casper)

When Johnny Sheppard was ten years old, he begged his father for a toboggan for Christmas.

He Kissed Me First 

(Stargate: Atlantis, The Farm in Iowa-verse by @sheafrotherdon)

"Rodnies? Rodneys? Rodni? How do you conjugate the plural?" John wondered.

The Once And Future Kingdom 

(Stargate: Atlantis, Merlin)

"I am Prince Arthur of Camelot!" the boy in the chainmail said. For a small, infinitesimal moment, Rodney considered losing it.

"Right, Prince Arthur, the Prince Arthur," Rodney scoffed instead. "And I'm Merlin."

The dark haired boy that stood a few paces behind his golden Prince cleared his throat. "Uh, no," he said, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, "Actually, I am."

Right, of course. Because this totally was Rodney's LIFE.

The Driver 

(Agent Carter, Captain America, British Royalty RPF)

“What?” Dum Dum asked, prodding his seatmate in the ribs with his meaty elbow for the umpteenth time. “Seriously, Falsy, what?”

“Squirfle,” the Brit said, or something like it. His face, under the mustache, had turned an amusing shade of puce that was rapidly verging on the alarming.

“Yeah, buddy, I know she’s pretty, but she’s just a dame, ain’t she?” Dum Dum said. He jerked his head at their driver. She was just a short brown-blonde coif from the back, though from his position against the side of the transportation jeep, Dum Dum could make out a smooth, pale cheek, an archly-painted eyebrow, and impeccable red lips.

The Nihongo Series

(Stargate: Atlantis)

In Japan, it is not too much to say that a great deal is about appearances. It is a habit cultivated over a life-time, and not one easy to break.

*

This is just a partial list of my most popular fics. Please visit my A03 and FF.NET profiles for the full list of fics.

You can also find a master post of my original fiction here.

[shutterandsentence]

"It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in humans; it is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes."

--Psalm 118:8-9

Governments, leaders, and civilizations come and go, but God is in control forever!

Photo: Procession of the Princes, Dresden, Germany

[deluxewhump]

Pride of Princes

A standalone story in the Blackmuir Reign verse ~150 years before Therrin Blackmuir takes the throne. This story is complete, around 12k words. This is part one.

CW: fantasy setting with a monarchy, fantasy politics, fantasy religious tensions, pressure to convert, torture, beatings, burning, threat of execution, imprisonment, defiant whumpee, forced/arranged marriage, polygamy, sex, court drama 

Characters and terms:

King Thyran Blackmuir (tie-run) 55- Therrin’s great great grandpa. Has ruled 30 yrs at this time and recently suffered an illness (stroke)

Prince Aedric Blackmuir (A-drick, strong A sound) 32 - the eldest prince and heir. Has one brother Cedric and two peaceweaver brides, Esther and Miline. Has one child with Esther, 6yo Esti. 

Roan Barrowfen (Row-n, rhymes with shown) 28- noble-born second son of Randall Barrowfen, of the easterly reaches. Given (unwillingly) as a peaceweaver to Aedric 

Tercet The new official religion being implemented by the Blackmuir crown. (Also a term in poetry, but here it's the name of a religion lol) The Tercet has three sections of religious importance that focus on commerce, agriculture, and the sanctity of law (the monarchy). 

Peace-weaver (Old English: freothwebbe)- Anglo-Saxon tradition of marrying women to an enemy tribe in hopes of mingling bloodlines and encouraging future peace between the groups. Peaceweavers here are specifically matched to smooth over a current conflict in the region, and not the same designation as matches to strengthen alliances or procure wealth. I prefer it as one word, not hyphenated.

Other notes: 

Title from The Wanderer.

Polygamy is encouraged for royalty at this time in the Blackmuir rule, if they are peaceweaver matches. Peaceweavers can be any level of nobility, but the first bride's children are typically the only ones recognized as viable heirs, unless they do not bear one or the heirs do not survive, and then it goes down the line to the second spouse. As you can imagine this causes lots of problems, but not in this story. 

This is loosely inspired by the history/legend of Saint Juliana by Cynewulf, as told in the Exeter book. 

_

1.

Prince Aedric was fast asleep when he was roused by Juliana, a timid handmaiden of his first bride, Esther. She never entered Aedric’s chambers, certainly not without invitation, or her mistress’s presence. 

“Prince Aedrick,” she said, giving a hurried bow. Her head was uncovered, her hair in two mussed braids as if for sleep. 

Aedric cast his eyes about the room for signs that something was amiss. He heard nothing from the open door of his chamber, or from the eastern window that caused any alarm. The fire was still burning in the hearth. He could not have been asleep for more than a few hours. 

“Juliana,” he said sharply. “Esther? Esti?”

“Are both well, sire. I don’t come on her behalf.”

“Then why? What is it?”

The girl pursed her lips and looked behind her, as if someone might be standing in the doorway in pursuit. “I wish to tell you something, but I fear it is not my place.”

Aedric sat up further in bed, his head still thick with sleep. “It must be important, to wake me in the middle of the night. Have out with it.”

“I only mean to serve you and my lady’s interests.”

“…Yes, Juliana. I know. I’ll… make sure there are no repercussions.”

She nodded solemnly. That had been her concern. “I was not told to come to you.”

“I understand. What is it?”

“The lord from the far reaches. He arrived this afternoon.”

Aedric frowned. He’d been recently betrothed. It was to be his third peaceweaver match, and the first to be male. The match was the youngest son of a Barrowfen from the easterly reaches, that wild and unforgiving marshland he’d visited as a boy and never had any desire to visit again. The reaches were an insular and stubborn region of his father’s vast kingdom that had caused some difficulty of late, but Lord Barrowfen was prompt with the annual taxes, and receptive to the new religious order.

But if his new betrothed had arrived in the afternoon, why had he not been called to meet him? Why had he not been sent to him directly, as Esther and Miline had been? He asked Juliana as much.

“The king. He is speaking to him now, in the Oath Hall. He is displeased.”

“Why?”

Juliana shifted her weight, nervously twisting at a small silver ring on her right hand. “He is refusing the Tercet, my lord. It’s caused some trouble.”

Aedric shook his head. “Why has he come all this way,  just to protest when he got here?”

“I-I don’t know, sire. I don’t think he wanted to come.”

Aedric raised his brows. 

“I know nothing more than this. I only wanted you to be aware. They’re very displeased with him, my prince.”

“Go,” he said, throwing off his covers. “I need to dress.”

She hesitated, wringing her fingers bloodless.

“Your name will not be mentioned,” he assured her. “Go.”

_

Aedric wondered if he’d ever been in the Oath Hall at such an hour. Every brazier was lit, casting jumping shadows on the high stone walls. His father sat elevated on his dais, attended by two knights, his favorite Tercet cleric in robes of snowy white, and several members of his court. 

Aedric’s eyes swept over them in turn. All had turned to watch him enter, and soon their eyes turned to their king to gauge his reaction to the prince’s intrusion. 

“It’s late, Aedric,” came Thyran Blackmuir’s weakened voice from his throne. A sudden illness had struck him before spring’s last snowmelt, and he had not been the same since. 

“Indeed it is, Your Grace,” Aedric answered. “What matter could not wait until after we had all slept and breakfasted?”

At the base of the dais stood a young man in modest clothing, unmoving, with his gaze fixed on the stones beneath his feet. Aedric gave him a wide berth as he approached, looking to see if this was the peaceweaver he’d been sent a portrait of in the initial negotiations. It appeared to be. He was of a similar height as Aedric, and though he could only see his bowed profile, it seemed to be the Barrowfen from the picture — Roan, was his name, or else it was someone strikingly similar. The portrait had looked promising.

He was of a similar age as Aedric as well, highborn, and unrelentingly beautiful, with dark hair and green-brown eyes, high easterly cheekbones, and a particular, intriguing smile that Aedric hoped was not just the flattery of the artist, but a look the subject had worn while sitting for the sketch.

“Hello,” he said, standing to the nobleman’s right, a safe six feet of distance between them. 

Roan Barrowfen gave him the barest glance, looking up without lifting his head. Their eyes met for only a moment and he returned them to the floor, his jaw set in something between determination and fear. Aedric was mildly stung by the sheer disregard of the exchange, a disregard he was unaccustomed to. 

“Is this my new peaceweaver, then?” Aedric asked, addressing his father. “Is this Roan Barrowfen?”

“It is,” the king answered wearily, his left eye now permanently drooping like a melting clay doll. 

“Why was I not sent for?” he asked, in front of the men of court, the cleric, and the knights. “Surely there must be some reason I was not sent to greet him upon his arrival?”

“Sit,” bade his father. 

“I prefer to stand, Your Grace.”

Aedric was nothing if not a loyal firstborn son, but he was not as docile as he might be. He tried to remain respectful to his father, the king, especially in front of members of court, but he would not be seen as a mincing puppet, either. And the king could be stubborn.

Of late, that concern had flagged. His father was not the man he was the year before, or the thirty years of his rule before that. He sometimes lost his train of thought, or his words entirely, and spent much of his days in bed. 

“Your betrothed has insisted on an act of….of  treason since his… arrival,” managed the King. 

Cleric Alfonsus looked down from the dais at Roan Barrowfen with a disdainful sort of pity. 

“What treason is that?”

The King motioned at his cleric, inviting him to speak and save him the trouble.  

“Lord Barrowfen maintains the false gods of the easterly reaches,” explained the cleric in a smooth voice, still powerful enough to project. Aedric admitted his unnervingly blue eyes and unrelenting gaze gave him an air of authority. His arms were folded together in the white fabric of his robes of office, hiding his hands, which Aedric thought was another apt metaphor. “He has denounced the Tercet, and by extension, the authority of the King.”

Aedric could have laughed. The Tercet was a fledgling religion, breeding in several pockets of the north for only two generations before gaining fast favor these last ten years. When he was a boy, no one had even spoken of the Tercet, the three-deity trident of land, commerce, and law. It was about as relevant as whoever this easterly man’s far-flung gods might be. And now it was treason to refuse them?

 “I’m sure this is a thing being done on principle,” he said amiably, opening his hands toward his father and the cleric. Even the knights were looking at him. “A well-intentioned principle, at that. Your Grace, is not the point of a peaceweaver to make peace? Peace is not something that can be expected upon arrival, or overnight.”

“The terms were clear,” answered the cleric, speaking over Aedric’s last word. “Randall Barrowfen sent a letter with his son. He knew this might happen, and in it he outlines his sincerest regrets, along with fealty to the Tercet and the king. His son’s life, if not as a peaceweaver, can be of some use as a forfeit.”

Aedric made a sour face. “Forfeit? To be an example, you mean? That is the perfect opposite of the goal we have in making this arrangement.”

The cleric continued. “Rejection of the Tercet directly undermines-”

“Your Grace,” Aedric cut him off, addressing his father. “This is mad. Put a swift end to it.”

With some difficulty, the King adjusted in his straight backed throne, a simple and elegant design of carved wood meant as an homage to humility and efficiency. “Your Esther and…Miline are worthy brides, Aedric. They are peaceweavers, and they are Muirish now. They serve a purpose. This…” he waved a hand irritably, “open dissent is not something I can ignore. I will not have a hostile…. traitor at my table. Bearing…. our name.”

“Hostile traitor,” Aedric echoed in disbelief. He wondered, not for the first time since his illness, if those were his father’s words, or repeated words of Cleric Afonsus.  “Has he spoken of any plans to murder any of us in our sleep?”

“No,” said the nobleman in question. Aedric turned to him, surprised he’d spoken. “But I will not abandon my gods for you. Or for the king.”

A murmur of offense broke out among the men in attendance. 

“I am a theurgist for the gods of our land,” he continued, looking up at Aedric with his head still slightly bowed. His eyes looked greener in the light of the braziers, and he had a high color on his cheeks that Aedric couldn’t discern between a sign of good health or the start of a fever. “I will serve my gods, and my gods alone.”

“A theurgist. You conjure your gods?”

“On behalf of others,” he answered. “As much as it is in my ability to do so. And if they answer.”

“And where are they at this moment?” he asked quietly, directed only to the foreigner. He meant it in a friendly, exasperated sort of jest, but Roan Barrowfen dropped his eyes like it had been a taunt.

Aedric set his jaw and looked back to the dais. “Give me the night, Your Grace. Let me speak to him privately, as I expected to do upon his arrival.”

“When you arrived,” said the king, “I had just sentenced him to the holding cells. He will….await there. Await his…ah,” he struggled for the word. “His trial.”

A pit of dismay formed in Aedric’s stomach. They had only exchanged one letter, but it had been promising. Roan Barrowfen was clearly well versed in his letters, and well spoken. He’d seemed modestly eager for the arrangement. Had he not realized he would have to, at least publicly, lay down his gods and his theurgic practices to do so? Another thought— had he even written the letter? Had he come of his own free will at all?

Aedric wished he could speak his true mind to his father, but there were lines he knew better than to cross in the Oath Hall.

“He will have a chance to recant, Aedric,” said the King, as if he were placating Aedric when he was a petulant child, over some small matter. “He will have many chances.”

He thought the wording of that promise to be ominous. Many chances? Did they intend to harm him in hopes of eliciting it, like a confession from a criminal? A highborn? Betrothed to the prince? Roan Barrowfen seemed to take the same meaning from the words. His chest rose and fell with noticeably faster breaths, but he did not move a single muscle. Aedric felt a sharp pang of protective sympathy towards this stranger he’d so been looking forward to meeting. 

“I ask you to reconsider this,” he appealed again. “It’s highly reactionary, Your Grace, for naught but some words.”

The king only motioned weakly to the knights, who came forward and took the prisoner under each arm, leading him away. He stumbled, but caught his footing and went willingly. Aedric stood rooted to the spot as the King rose from the throne. Others followed, and Oath Hall began to empty. 

Cleric Alfonsus stepped down from the dais carefully so as not to trip over his robes. He fixed Aedric with his deliberate gaze. “Naught but some words,” he repeated as he passed him. It felt like an admonition. 

The following morning, Prince Aedric learned that the trial was set for a full month away. Roan Barrowfen’s noble status required three representatives from his home to travel to the Muirkeep to sit on the jury. Aedric knew this would influence the outcome, but he was not confident it would be in the way he’d like. Lord Barrowfen himself had condemned his son with that letter, to appease the king. Whoever came from the reaches was likely prepared to do the same.

The final decision would be the king’s, but that would undoubtedly be influenced by the clerics, as it was a religious matter. That was a fact that had been concerning him of late— more and more seemed to fall to the discretion of the Tercet leaders, namely Cleric Alfonsus. 

After speaking with his father to no avail, he did the other thing in his power. He went down to the cells. 

Next

[lsdoiphin]

In public, yes.

In her private life, absolutely not. She had many doubts about the arrangement, some of which had nothing to do with Alexander (now King-Regent Andimeur) as a person.

In fact, Ancha found it difficult to have much of an opinion about Alexander as an individual at all. Since Amalthea and Alexander married at a young age (both about 18), she struggled to conceptualize him as a whole human man. Placing judgment upon his person when he was hardly older than a boy and thrust onto the throne at short notice felt... unfair.

Of course, it has been a good 27 or so years since then (and over a decade since Amalthea's death). In that time, Ancha has come to realize that Alexander is... well, kind of grating.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Supernaturally Enchanted

Supernaturally Enchanted by Annehiggins Rating: Mature Word count: 33k

Dean falls into the land of Angelasia. There he meets a handsome prince who may be his True Love – not that he believes in that crap. An AR set toward the end of a very different second season.

Do you enjoy canon verse fic as well as AU with a side of fairy tale? Then you're in for a treat because this fic has the best of both worlds.

When the fic begins, Angelasia is in danger -- if no one from the line of succession is able to find their happy ending, all the magic in the kingom will fade and everyone will be doomed to a gloomy destiny.

Castiel should have found his happiness already as the next in line to the throne. But at almost 30, he hasn't found his true love yet and has long ago lost any hope of ever finding the one.

That's when the Dean we know from canon, thanks to an encounter with witches gone wrong, finds himself transported from the world of Supernatural we know to this fairy tale land.

From then on, it's such a delight to see all these fairy tale tropes and fables we know from childhood come to life as Dean tries to navigate this knew world while trying to find his way back to his reality.

Dean and Cas meet after a brave rescue where swords come to play, and even the Impala turned into a horse has a role, and from then on, like a good ol' fairy tale, they instantly fall for each other.

It's so enjoyable to see them being so soft and caring together. This story is adorable and it will definitely leave you with a smile on your face by the end of it.

[okeancs]

                   𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐒                

names hold power. perseus, the destroyer. percy, the hero.

the gods refer to percy as perseus, the name connects him to the gods through his namesake, while mortals refer to him as percy. This duality reflects the two halves of his identity as a demigod - half god, half mortal. it's part of the reason why percy loathes being called perseus. he doesn't fully side with the gods, he doesn't want to be associated with them. percy isn't perseus, a namesake he feels constantly inferior to. yet the gods fear perseus, to some degree. perseus does not over power an olympian, sure, but perseus means the avenger, the destroyer. gods knew of the great prophecy way before perseus. ' Olympus to preserve or raze ' a demigod that was not supposed to be born, in a universe where names hold power, named the destroyer? it is not far fetched for the gods to be at least wary of perseus, it’s shown in their actions. every year as they inch closer and closer to perseus' 16th birthday, the gods wanted to kill him. that is fear. percy’s identity, rooted in being sally jackson’s son, rather than the son of poseidon, is what connects him to his mortality. while the gods are humanised, they lack the fundamentals of humanity. percy is a tool to remind them of the mortality of demigods. the experiences percy had growing up built the character of his identity. the abuse he endured, the love he was given by sally. these experiences the gods will never experience is what makes percy - percy and not perseus. now, there are instances where percy does go by perseus. when his memories were erased by hera. lupa only referred to percy as perseus so it makes sense that percy would go by perseus during that timeframe in heroes of olympus - he doesn't know better. he is missing the memories that create percy. in verses where percy is more connected with the gods such as his prince of the seas verse and patron god of heroes verse - percy does go by perseus. in his prince of the seas verse, percy is born as a minor olympian, entirely disconnected from human experiences. then for his patron god of heroes verse, where he accepts godhood at the end of the last olympian, he starts off still going by percy but over time, he begins to forget his humanity as his loved ones eventually die off. its after the death of annabeth does percy begin to fully accept the identity of perseus. in percy's kronos verse, percy fully accepts being perseus the moment he joins the titan army. the name loses its association to the gods and rather the meaning of his name. perseus is the destroyer and the avenger. he will destroy olympus to avenge his mother. ultimately, the disconnect between percy and perseus is something i always thought was overlooked. i personally believe that it highlights the conflicting realms of being a demigod by showing how percy struggles to balance his identity. percy embodies both the destructive power of the gods and the compassionate flawed humanity.

[justsurvival]

open to : anyone 25+. muse : kazuharu miya. 30. bodyguard. he/him. plot : ??? idk he's your muse's bodyguard for some reason. feel free to assume any other connections.

          "     are you purposefully trying to make my job harder or are you just stupid  ?     "     it took an embarrassing amount of time for kazuharu to find them; either their phone died or they lost it, because he was unable to contact them at all.  he had to rely on sheer luck to come across them, searching every place they're known to hide out in and was close to giving up entirely.  not his fucking problem, he can always find something else to do.     "     you were supposed to be home an hour ago.  let's go.     " 

[teddybasmanov]

I know there's that one half-joking post about jester and royalty, but it is odd with the popularity of knight(bodyguard)/royalty trope, the jester/royalty trope is so rare, because like:

all the hidden meanings to the jokes that only we understand;

you're the only person in the kingdom who's allowed to say rude and obscene things to me in public;

you can easily sneak into my quarters after dark because pretty much no one in the castle saw you without your mask or face paint;

you're the Fool, but you're smarter than all my advisors and ministers;

yes, you look like a jester, but you're royalty at heart.

[malka-lisitsa]

"Don't you think rose is kinda an old lady scent nowadays?"

Bonus content: Polyamory Stef reacting from another room.

"Not as old as my side of your bed being empty is I'm sure. Let me just remind you what that feels like, Stefan gets my company tonight."

And yes she's well aware it's Damon's night.

He shouldn't pick fights he doesn't want to lose.

[soulsxng]

Some of the outfits Oleander is going to be wearing at the party! The only real change would be that any gold embellishments would be silver instead. Included a picture of Oleander in there, since they're actually using their real appearance here instead of their dad's!

[bravewolfvesperia]

planned starter | @mistralxsoul

Given that Yuri was nagged at enough for going into town in the first place, the least he could do was minimize the nagging by bringing Flynn with him. Surely going out sometimes wasn't a big deal anyway, was it? Yuri always made sure to dress in civilian clothing to go out, and by now some people already knew who he was. Plus, Jiri knew he went out and didn't stop him. Gave him warnings, sure, but didn't stop him. As far as Yuri was concerned, Jiri's lack of stopping him was all the consent needed. If he was weighing his caretaker's advice over the council's, it was not the latter's he was taking.

So he sought Flynn out, eventually finding him managing the training weapons that he usually used to train others and Yuri himself. Bringing Flynn wasn't all that bad anyway. Flynn came from one of the areas of the commoners (or was it two...? It was two, right? He'd moved once), so for him, it was really just visiting home. Jiri came from the poor end of town and he'd heard stories from her, but it just made him want to visit even more. To be around what the other nobles kept trying to keep him away from. Being around other teens who didn't care about his status and in some cases didn't even know of it was preferable to being overly pampered anyway.

"I'm gonna go into town." Yuri said plainly as he approached Flynn, arms folded innocently behind his back. Sometimes he was accused of going out to cause trouble, but it was actually the reverse: he caused trouble for the other nobles, but he did what he could to make the lives of the commoners better. People down there liked him for the most part, and for all the warnings the adults gave him, he never treated those citizens as lesser than himself, and so didn't face backlash other nobility usually would. Those warnings were better heeded to themselves.

Sometimes Yuri could get away with Flynn just being a friend of his, but he was certain people knew he had a lofty status regardless. There were times Flynn was urged to, or wanted to, bring a weapon in case anything did happen. It was mostly clear enough that Flynn was a guard as well a friend, and it was hard to use the friend excuse while trying to get by as another commoner while visiting. "Do you wanna change? To blend in better?" He could ask any knight in the castle, really, but Flynn was his preference and technically his personal guard. "I'll wait if you want to, or we can just go."

Coming from Yuri, it wasn't even a demand. It wasn't an order. It was just, plain and simple, Yuri saying he was going out and knowing Flynn would follow, or ask after him when he couldn't find him later and end up following him anyway. If Flynn really truly and honestly did not want to go, Yuri never forced him. Yuri liked wandering the town though and seeing what foods and goods were there, or making sure the people were content. Having Flynn there and not some stuffy, constantly-reminding-him-of-his-status knight just allowed his time there to be genuinely fun. He could be unfiltered and not have to think about where he was. Getting Flynn to have fun was a bonus.