#╰ * VERSE FIVE : V5 ⧽ court of tides .

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VERSE DROP : court of tides  .

Born to the Western Kingdom of Essetir, Court of Tides, Prince Arlo's destiny has been pretty much predetermined since he was old enough to tie his own laces. The eldest Thompson child is a woman, Tiffany, and thus she is not expected to ascend the throne–however, from an early age it was clear that Arlo was not meant to lead, and his pretty face made it that much easier for the King and Queen to prepare the boy for life as a courtesan/mistress. It was ultimately decided that whatever man Tiffany might marry would be King, as their son could be an Essitirian heir, with both his father's blood and their mother's royal blood. 

Essetir borders the warrior Kingdom of Castremam ( in conjuncture with @tartt9 ) on the west, overseeing a series of port towns and inland towns closer to the castle. Several trade routes pass through Essetir and are only accessible through their many ports, thus making the Kingdom an incredibly strong trade economy. Thanks to Essetir's topographical position, the Kingdom is also home to several smaller fishing and farming villages, meaning they are rich in resources as capital. It seems like Essetir has it all, from a vast amount of land, to highly coveted trade routes and an abundance of resources–however, they are very much lacking in military power, and despite the political scheming of the ruling class nobles, if faced with a hostile takeover or coup, Essetir would likely fall. This where Prince Arlo comes in. Should Essetir wish to ever align themselves with a strong military power and form an allegiance with a stronger kingdom, they plan to marry Arlo off to that kingdom's prince or princess. This is how Prince Arlo discovers his love of music and his people. In her endeavors to make Arlo an appealing pawn, Queen Veronica ensures that Arlo receives training in all the forms of finery as she sees fit–etiquette training, musical training, political literacy–Arlo is coached on how to sit, how to speak, and how to appease. Queen Veronica doesn't count on Arlo's love of music, however; at age 16 the boy begins composing his own music and performing in the city for nobles and commonfolk alike. Disliking that Arlo has developed an interest outside of serving the throne and fulfilling his role as a pawn, Queen Veronica demands that Arlo cease his musical training and be confined to the castle the following weeks.  Having spent his entire life doing exactly what he's told, when he's told, Arlo escapes the castle and runs away to a neighbouring fishing village. For a week he is not found, and he trades song and story for shelter with the village locals, befriending everyone down to the town crones and the tavern drunks. When he is finally found by a search party of knights, for the first time in his life, Arlo makes a demand of his parents–either they let him continue his pursual of music, both in lesson and in practice, or he'll do this again. He'll make their lives living hell lest they allow him this one freedom. Impressed by his sudden bravery, and worried by their eldest daughter's increasingly headstrong behavior, the King and Queen agree to Arlo's terms. From there on, Arlo continues composing his own music, eventually composing poetry and literature as well, and becomes known across Essetir as the Kingdom's Shining Jewel. His songs are known all throughout the land, and he himself is known as a prince of the people. The ruling class nobles all look down their noses at Arlo for it, and are ever-eager to marry him off and out of Essetir for good. Prince Arlo will likely never marry for love, and lest he is rescued by some outside party or interloper, he will likely never be free of the Essitirian Court's thumb. He is destined to be a pawn…that is, unless your muse decides otherwise.

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she's a quick little thing, whip smart and doubly sharp.   who wishes to know?   she asks him, and in that moment he almost pats himself on the back because now he knows he'd gotten that one right  ━  don't give them your true name, lest they hold that power over you. she's   A  STRANGE  ,  HYPNOTIZING   beauty, a beauty that's dangerous, sharp claws veiled by vanity and glamor. she's the kind of creature arlo could only ever dream of seeing, worrisome as her sudden appearance might be, the sort of thing he'd sing about in a shanty, write about in a poem. she flits closer to him on delicate wings,   akin  to  a  dragonfly's   , and his breath is damn near punched out of his lungs. don't answer that,   she tells him, a very faerie question indeed. intriguing that she might protect him from her own fae whims. curious, ever so curious.  he nods his head at her question, almost in a mock - bow to her. he doesn't want to offend her any, especially seeing as she's not trying to weasel a name out of him, nor any favors.   ❝ indeed – i read a lot. and i play music, too. a lot of song and poetry speak of the fairfolk, ❞   he explains, just shy of being struck silent in his awe.

her response is instantaneous as a bite,  as if the little fae was very prepared for such a question to slip from the prince’s lips.     “  who wishes to know?  ”     the question is given in return to his own,  a coy trick played between fair folk and mortal  —  but she would never play horribly if he were to give his name,  it was still much safer he not tell her.   keeley could figure it out for herself,  without his help.   with her eyes wide and slowly blinking,  her head tips to one side for a full ninety degrees;   the faerie looked much more like an night owl than a creature of fairytale stories, and that beautiful oddity only blossomed further as she grinned bright as sunlight and flitted over hurriedly closer to him on gossamer-thin wings.   it was just pure instinct to fly,  rather than walk.     “  oh no !   don’t answer that,  actually.   that was a silly question…   a very faerie question.   you know of us then, prince?  ”     how wonderfully curious.   she’s never met a mortal who knew of the fair folk,  though likely because they tended to stick to the forests,  and she was indeed a very long way from home right now.

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a furtive glance, small gasp of recognition  ━ with her small, lithe body and the hazy, pink aura around her, prince arlo knows exactly what @bekeeley is. ❝ you're ... you're one of the fair folk, aren't you? ❞ it's a hushed murmur, the cogs in arlo's mind turning at breakneck speed. in that moment, he tries to recall all that he can about THE FAIR FOLK ; don't let them know your true name, don't indebt yourself to them, they cannot lie, and if they indebt themselves to you, choose your favour wisely  ━ always be exact in your manner of speech. of course, he's unsure just how much of this is true, but he'd rather be safe than sorry.

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there, down by the rocks  ━  that's where he spots it. that telltale   ( no pun intended )   gleam of opalescent scales. they glimmer under the suns cheerful beams like polished onyx, catching the prince's watchful eye as he fiddles with the strings of his lute. the smell of sea air is sharp and crisp in his nose, the beckoning TASTE  OF  SALT   teasing his tongue. does he dare venture closer? oh, he really shouldn't; if there's truly a mermaid down there by the tide pools, he'll surely be sung   to  his  death   . yet  ━  hey, ho,   what a helluva way to go. he slings his instrument across his back, ventures further down the rocks. he sees   @metalsiren   , then, in all her glory, and o,   glorious  she  is   indeed. her long brunette waves cascade down her shoulders, a stark contrast to the milky white of her skin. her tail is even more stunning just this much closer, so much so that arlo chokes on a breath and stumbles on the uneven terrain. right, then…he's so dead. 

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as he is more often than not, prince arlo is currently lost in song, curled up in the castle's garden with his lute in hand. he plays softly, the song a warm whisper in the summer air, his voice   a  sweet  ,  lilting   thing as he composes a   HYMN  FROM  NOTHING   , singing of the fair folk and the sharp, salty scent of the ocean breeze. he's so lost in thought that he's completely unaware of the presence of another,   @z00miez   watching idly as arlo performs for an invisible audience. his finger catches on a string and he curses at the sharp sound, pouting at his interrupted number.   ❝ curses, ❞   he grumbles, looking at his red finger and his traitorous instrument . he sighs and lays back on the lush, green grass, gazing into the blue sky above. 

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the quirk of his upper lip, the arch of an eyebrow.   @mcmorare   is slick, that's for sure, and fast, too. that being said, she's no match for arlo's keen eye, trained to spot suspicious behavior and shady dealings from a mile away. after all, as likely as they were to happen out here, amongst the common folk, they were tenfold as likely to happen within the castle walls. royals were   A  TREACHEROUS  BUNCH   , the ruling class nobles even more rotten. to survive the fuckery, you've got   to  be  sharp   , and then some. he approaches the cloaked figure with his hands behind his back, a tranquil smile adorning his face.   ❝ well that certainly wasn't yours, ❞   he murmurs, just loud enough for her to hear it, but not loud enough for the shopkeep to take notice. the man at the stall is   a  lout  anyways   , charging almost three times as much for his goods than what he pays for them.

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does prince arlo have a penchant for running away from home? yes, perhaps he does, but that's his business and nobody else's…well, save for the patrols of knights sent out to search for him when the sun's getting low and he's yet to return home  ━  but that's besides the point, really. the sun has just begun to set, the   horizon  dusted  pink   behind the tall willows, and arlo is no longer alone in the woods. there, in the shadows of the underbrush, there's a face, piercing eyes bright as a sliver of ever - fading light catches them in the glare.   FRIEND  OR  FOE   , prince arlo is wholly unsure, but he is curious, so he does not turn tail and run. @shegunner's face is obscured in darkness; he takes a few steps forward.   ❝ you –  who goes there? ❞   he asks the still air.

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the prince is perched prettily on the lip of a fountain, lute in hand, strumming strings thoughtlessly with the ghost of a song on his tongue. a few villagers have gathered 'round to listen to him play, though the crowd disperses rather swiftly when they realize that prince arlo's head is   in  the  clouds   today. after another meeting gone miserably wrong, and endless talk of arlo's inevitable betrothal, the young prince is drained. he is filled with a   BONE  MARROW  DEEP   exhaustion, one that not even the power of song can cure him of. he looks up from his lute when he realizes that there's one person left hovering near the fountain, a face so unfamiliar but welcoming still. he nods his head at   @muchojoy   , ceases his aimless, discordant lute playing.   ❝ hello there. i don't believe i've seen you 'round these parts before, ❞   he greets, curious.

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how arlo's meant to get along with this scoundrel, let alone marry the damned fool  ━  the young prince of essetir has no idea. @tartt9 was a handsome fellow, but he had a smirk   like  a  wolf's   and set of calculating, predatory eyes to match. arlo could tell from the moment they met that the other prince didn't care for him much. his grip had been so hard it could crush bone, shaking arlo's delicate hand; digits made for piano - playing && musical composition crushed in an iron grasp. bastard,   arlo thinks to himself, meeting jamie of castremam with a withering glare. he curses his parents in thought, envies his sister for ever having a choice, then he sighs, gazes out the window at the kingdom surrounding them. he's only been in castremam about a week now, and with every passing day, the urge to fling himself   INTO  THE  TURRETS   below only grows.   jamie stares at him still, and arlo suppresses an annoyed groan.   ❝ right, did you need something,   prince   ? ❞   he tries his best to keep his voice free of ice, free of sarcasm but his   tongue  catches  on   prince and he can't help the little snicker that tugs up the corner of his mouth.