#♔; in audience ( ic. )

[corrunuptia]

Rose Dark Pink, Rose Orange, Lilly Calla, Gladiolus / "I'm just glad my sometimes drooling blood while trembling on the floor and saying a variety of things can amuse, truly!"

floral expressions. thankfulness, fascination, beauty, strength of character & honor

♚;  

                                          - an elegant gift, flowers; one the queen receives far too rarely for her taste. too many, she supposes, fear the aura of romance that surrounds such offerings, and know better than to dare. little does her court know that by fragrance she will always let herself be seduced.

‘ for us, dear seeress? ’ the queen smiles, fangs white against the bright tribute. the plants are soft on her cheeks as she lets their perfume fill her. annalise plucks a dark pink petal from a blooming rose, rolling it between her index and thumb, like fresh velvet flesh ‘twixt ivory digits.

‘ ‘tis we who art thankful for thee. thou bringest much joy to our long days, ’ she adds, placing the petal on her tongue like a bitter eucharist, lips pursing in laughter. a small communion of their shared madness.

[seraphseye]

ヽ ⠀⠀* ₍   𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐱,   accepting.   ╎   ♔.     ❛ i have so much i want to say to you. ❜ ... @knightsradiants, maven to mare.

the wind has turned harsh , nipping at her skin like ice and whipping tendrils of brown and gray across marred features. hands rise to curl around upper arms as if it'll warm her any more , not that she can truly mind it too much . . it is a reminder that , against all odds , despite   being   the   least   deserving   of   it , she is so painfully alive. it's an incredibly odd thing to envy the dead , but it would be simpler that way ; it   would   be   easier   for   her   family   to   mourn   a   true   ghost   rather   than   having   to   watch   them   mourn   who   she   once   was. the world in all of its cruelties and betrayals has beaten her down , and she will never be mare barrow from the stilts again.

a shiver runs down her spine when eyes fall on sharp , cobalt counterparts , and yet there is a yearning that makes her stomach twist. maven calore looks nothing like the boy she had grown to love now that a crown sits atop dark curls , now that she   can   never   unsee   the   strings   his   mother   puppeteers   him   with. his letters of requesting an audience with her had gone long ignored , though they were not something she could quite bring herself to part with . . when she'd been brave ( or stupid ) enough to respond , her request had been simple : come alone , and she had promised to do the same. mare tries not to let the surprise show on her features when she takes in how he is , noticeably , not flanked by dozens of silvers. perhaps he is just as stupid as her. her trust in him is a flame that has long since been snuffed out , so she imagines his army remains just out of eyesight , prepared to strike when she least expects it. she   will   not   let   her   guard   down   again ,    not   for   him ,    not  for   anybody.

it occurs to her that she has just walked into her own demise , into the clutches of the mad boy king , but   she   has   always   stepped   right   into   his   traps. he had told her to hide her heart and yet he might be the one person she cannot hide it from. mare remains a safe distance away from him , the six or so feet between them already too small of a space. shoulders are squared and she stands the straightest she can ; her body aches and her eyes are lined with dark circles that she imagines are permanent now. he looks ghastly in the fading sunlight , dark clouds having shifted to hide it from view. he is a ghost , a ghost of a boy who is more monster than man now. merely looking at him is enough to make her feel as though her heart is being squeezed within her chest. ❝ and i care to hear very little of it , maven. ❞

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Our Aching Souls March Heavensward

by Writezeel

All of Stronghold had been able to see the convoy for hours now. Since morning a slow, messy line had steadily moved closer to them. So long that it extended towards the mountains many miles south. Soon they would be close enough to make out the people themselves, carrying their flags high in the air, victorious.

And Wilbur's brother at the very front, leading.

~♔~

Or, Wilbur has not seen Technoblade in close to a year, hundreds of miles of snow and ice between them. Their reunion should have been a happy one, but his twin's behavior is a cause for concern.

Words: 5656, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of As the Stars above them Hum

Fandoms: Dream SMP, Video Blogging RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza, Kristin Rosales Watson

Relationships: Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Royalty, Alternate Universe - Magic, Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Good Parent Kristin Rosales Watson, Parent Kristin Rosales Watson, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot-centric, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade-centric, Mage Wilbur Soot, Mage Kristin Rosales Watson, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Conflict, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Brotherly Affection, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Needs a Break, but he doesn't want one, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is Not Okay (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Kristin Rosales Watson, Animal Metaphors

[corrunuptia]

@yellowfingcr

♚;  

                                           footsteps hurried behind great wooden doors. the crackling of the flames along the stone walls. the wind howling fiercely, biting cold at this time of year. all of these sounds clear like ice over a pointless cacophony of speech.

‘ we need act swiftly, commander francis. ‘tis well known now that unrest in yharnam is building. the bridge to cainhurst should be closed with all due haste, to avoid insurgents stoking the lower classes. ’

‘ and leave us without the grain and foodstuffs that sustain us through winter? let us not act foolishly and mobilize precious troops in fear of mere rabble- ’

‘ then are we to wait for a revolution, like crabs in a boiling pot? ’

the argument goes on and on around the long table. annalise sits at one end, head resting on her hand, her attention entirely elsewhere. her ministers quabble ceaselessly - why, if she does not stop them, she fears they could continue going until they both died of old age. she then reconsiders this fact: if they keep her locked in this parley hall one more hour, she will have them both killed.

of course, there would be unrest in yharnam. mere mortals, partaking of a holiness they do not deserve, playing house with the children of gods. they are fools to the one - even the creature that brought to her the delightful blood that awakened the great powers of her line. for what devil or witch was ever so great as the first queen herself, whose burning ichor flowed in these veins, the great mother of phtumeru? to think it was that filthy betrayer who brought it before her.

annalise’s disinterest begets the attention of the young lord annenkov, son of the present lieutenant of the same name. 

‘ your highness, far from me the thought of ordering you, but your thoughts on this matter would be appreciated. i simply wish to make certain your silence is not interpreted as permission to go on forever by our eloquent debaters. i am certain we all have better things to do today, yourself chiefest of all, ’ he smiles. 

proud little swine, she thinks to herself. a good looking young boy, all too ambitious for his own good in a nation where indulgence is one's right and one's death. she remembers the young lord asking her for a dance at the grand ball where he made his début, drunk with blood and the elation of her attention. she thought she had crushed his confidence under her heel sufficiently that night, but it appears it wasn’t enough. she sighs, redressing in her chair and dismissing the boy’s comment with a wave.

‘ thou wouldst do well to teach thy son some manners if he is to be welcome at our inner court, lieutenant annenkov. thy loyal service has afforded you many rights, but our patience comes at too high a price for even thee.’

a delicate hand comes to rest on her forehead, ruffling ash blonde hair.

‘ though impertinently, the young lord brings a fair point. we do not wish to spend overlong in circular discussions with no end in sight. ministers, we ask that thou maketh thy point more efficiently, should this issue arise again. how long ago hath either of thee visited the city, we must ask? the one whose thoughts we should hear on the matter is not ye, nor ourself this time. ’

annalise turns to her left. in the corner of the parley hall, nearby the great stained glass window that bathed it in green and blue, an outsider had been allowed to sit. ministers and officers alike had voiced much discontent, surely leading to the guest's silence, but annalise would not hear their complaints. this was her court, after all, and if she wished for a dog to sit on her council, so it would be - a cur would at the very least have no eyes for the throne; better than some of the rats that already spoke at the table, hungry for scraps of her power.

‘ lady heysel, thou hath sought asylum here from yharnam not too long ago, yes? if there is aught thou knowest of the situation there, we would much like to hear it. do not be shy overmuch! we have allowed thee to attend our court for this very reason.’

[corrunuptia]

‘ well... hahaha. in the least, we shall not want for entertainment in these endless nights. our dearest hound seems to be making new friends too. we have much cause for joy. ’ 

[corrunuptia]

Pounces and snogs her like he hasn't seen her in a month. (We're feeling emotional okay.)

♚;

—————-he navigates the dark room like a panther, or the shadow of one; lean limbs deftly avoiding vases, tea tables and statues, glimmering jade eyes fixed intently upon his beloved. of his knightly accoutrements there is only a chemise and tanned pants left, and he has already thrown the former open with a swift tug on the buttons. lucius ducks beneath the heavy curtains that cradle the queen's bed, slipping between the thick folds with a mere whisper of cloth, probing the full dark within for the shape of her.

effortlessly his breath finds hers, like night's end upon the sea bringing together the moon and its shivering reflection. desire crests and he spills over her in one hot wave, locking her beneath without a moment's hesitation. his beloved, after all, does not sleep; and who else but him to sneak into her chambers so, to take her body in their arms? there was no man alive so foolishly, so recklessly in love.

' oh how we have awaited thee... thy queen, sleepless- '

lucius hushes her with a firm kiss, her marble cheeks pressed between his hands. one last act of softness, a reminder of the heart's needs; the first and sweetest kiss they will share that night.

' do not speak. '

annalise's lips part for him once more, wordless this time, her nails teasing up his spine to hold the nape of his neck. even now as he looms over her, his form powerful against her graceful own, she reminds him of his station. he smiles into her deep kiss, tongue leaving her mouth only to addend to previous words.

' ...please, my love. '

and all unravels.

a whimper escapes his dearest queen as lucius' inhibition at last gives. his hand is firm on her jaw as he kisses her again, hard and with a long breath, tongue lapping at her white teeth. her smile fades and her fingers coil around his hair, pulling tightly at his scalp, coaxing him even deeper. annalise's chest presses against his and with a groan the knight's body leaves hers just long enough to tear away at the sheets between them. his flesh protests this briefest of absences, every inch of him begging for her equal. it is as though he has been outside in the cruel snow freezing, starving, for many long moons; despite that they have scarcely been apart, they come together like a season's return, like a renewal of vows.

and although there is much that he wants, his chiefest need is for her mouth, and to feel his own desire throb and breathe inside it. the queen's panting grow more ragged with every sway of interlocked jaws, straining to welcome the slick dance of tongues. her skin is wet like dew where saliva has spilled and before long her pale brow is knitted with the numb need of air.

annalise's cold heart beats furiously against lucius' chest and he denies her, teeth holding her still below as one hand frees itself of her grasp to caress her lean leg, tugging at her dress. whispers pleading and hoarse lend his movements a frenzied hurry. he finds her warmth with ease, expertly parting steam-hot hair and plunging two fingers between slick lips, readily buried. a curl of his knuckles and the queen's spine twists in turn, muffling a high-pitched moan in his mouth as he begins to knead the pit of her cunt. lucius' own arousal presses against the back of his hand, bucking into parted thighs, but he ignores it for now, though their bodies rolling against each other like waves may well send him into lunacy. he will tease that sound out of her yet, that pain-like cry, he will devour every hitched breath and short moan that will precede her release.

lucius' mouth breaks away from hers just long enough to look into her eyes, black as the shadows that swathe them and brimming with hunger; down to the long string of hot saliva that tethers their lips; and further down, then, to the lubricious web that shimmers between his fingers.

oh, how he has missed her.

[corrunuptia]

❛ no one notices your tears, or your pain. but they notice your mistakes. ❜

get mauled by the queen ( closed. )

♚;

----------------black eyes like fine gashes on the queen's face focus on the priestess, a fierce shiver making every muscle of her tense. her long hands are rigid on the arms of the chair, clawing at the cloth. in fact she almost rises, ready to pounce like a great white lioness, though wisdom halts her charge.

' that thou shouldst utter these words before us... we have heard of thy divine wisdom. it seems now as though it may be foolishness, ' annalise hisses between fine lips.

nevertheless, at the back of her mind the words swirl, and the clear aroma of their truth calms the queen's anger. she settles into her chair again and lets out a sigh. indeed her every decision as cainhurst's regent is scrutinized, analyzed ten times over, and most certainly criticized. but when she herself suffers, there are none to witness her tears, and even fewer to wipe them away.

her eyes trail to the bounteous food that lays between them, enshrined in elegant silverware. none, except...

no, not even him. in her pain she has always stood alone.

' thou art right, of course, high priestess. we cannot begrudge thee thine observation, scathing as it is, ' annalise sighs, relaxing. she brings a golden chalice to her lips and drinks thoughtfully. when she next looks at rivah it is with piercing, spider-cold eyes.

' we simply ask that thou dost not forget thy station. cainhurst is our land, and thou art our honored guest. '

in an instant her face changes, and annalise gives a wide and genuine, fanged smile.

' shall we have dessert, then? '

[corrunuptia]

« don’t you think you should say sorry? » oh no

get mauled by the queen. ( accepting )

♚;

though meir speaks not particularly loudly, nor words of much notice, he sends forth a wave of silence through the crowd. the swaying of the ballroom slows to a crawl and even the orchestra quiets. when annalise replies her own voice is clear over hushed whispers and soft strings. at once commanding and daring, annalise turns to face the warlock, head tilted in curiosity.

‘ repeat thyself? ’

it appears on her way through the dancers she has disturbed some poor noble girl, whose cup spilled about her dress. the girl’s beautiful clothing is bright red with wine, and her face is stained much the same color. her small shriek may have caught meir’s attention, and perhaps some sense of honor bade him call to the careless offender. she stands now next to him, trying to hide behind his small frame, clutching at her clothes in quiet despair.

but fortune is not on the warlock’s side, and the queen ( mood already soured by some political nonsense ) does not take lightly to his reprisal. words that she would have normally ignored or laughed off today made her feel positively murderous. one of her guards speaks up, mentioning a precarious situation, and the uselessness of this altercation, but she hushes him with a raised hand.

‘ are we to accept such disrespect, spoken to our very face? we yet have pride. ’

the knight concedes, strands of white hair falling about his face. they do not conceal a growing smirk on his scarred features as he too turns his attention to meir. all eyes and ears, in fact, are turned to this petty scene.

annalise gives the young man no time to regret his actions. in a few strides she is before him, towering in silent fury. she grabs his chin, nails digging around his soft cheeks, and shifts it left and right, peering at his features.

‘ it is a shame to mar such a pretty face with this foul tongue. for thy sake, it would be our great pleasure to have it   r e m o v e d. ’

[corrunuptia]

❛ power belongs to those who take it. and you look like an easy mark to take from. ❜

get mauled by the queen. ( accepting )

♚; -

' thou art most observant, ' the vileblood queen jests, slowly clapping her hands. the applause is condescending, just like the small cant of her head when she continues:

' we are alone in this chamber, blinded by some wicked mask. '

theatrically the queen gestures, waving a hand in front of her invisible face. she then moves to indicate her clothing, the most simple of night gowns, with little else for accoutrements in sight. no sword hangs from her side, and the linen could scarcely conceal a dagger.

' to add, we are unarmored, even unarmed! an easier target one could not wish for. '

there is a toothy smile invisible beneath the brass helmet that constrains her power. how she wished she could tear it off, see her own dark eyes in pools of this stranger's blood, rip him apart with her teeth. it would ask much of her, her powers and immortality so restrained, to make this man pay for his arrogance. but there are none present who can do it in her stead. yes... she will not see the carnage, but no matter. she will have to feel it on her hands.

slowly annalise rises from her throne. under faint moonlight her forearm shines a pale grey, then red as she draws her index along its length, splitting the flesh in twain. her bright blood gushes forth, sputtering on the carpet, leaving smoke in the air. in one swift gesture, she dips her fingers into the gruesome wound and draws an arc before herself. a halo of blood briefly hangs, suspended about her head by terrifying magicks, and disappears in a wave of flame.

' we will share our own wisdom, before we kill thee. looks can be deceiving. '

[corrunuptia]

(Wear this!) A sturdy yet regal attire, suitable for horse-riding and hunting.

"Would you spend the day with me? Outside?" He affords the luxury of informality with her, going as far as smiling in a boyish manner. All his sweet charm put into this request, which is hardly a mere selfish whim. After all, she seldom takes that much time for herself --- let alone away from the Court. "A day of fresh air and leisure... what do you say?"

wear this! ( accepting. )

annalise examines the outfit for an instant, careful hands unfolding the precious - if sturdy - clothing. the queen gazes longingly at brown leather gloves, thick-heeled boots, runs her fingers through the lordly feather of a hat. all is in her size, and her color as well, the pale beiges and browns that she favors so, a cravat as blue as the morning sky. the soft touch of suede and the distinct smell of leather rouses memories of riding through the fog, of the thrill of the hunt. she has not indulged in these things in a very long time. the prince certainly knows how to sway her heart, accompanying his words with a most charming smile.

' alas, brother dear, ' the queen sighs, the pout childish on her mature features, ' we were to hold a council today, with our ministers, to speak on the state of our royal treasury. '

she gives antonin her best facsimile of despair. of course, she would give in. annalise breaks into a fit of giggling, innocent and crystalline, a young girl playing pranks.

' it seems they will have to do without us! '

anything for her precious little brother.

[corrunuptia]

❛ i do very bad things, and i do them very well. ❜ / heysel auditioning for the role of castle priestess

get mauled by the queen ( closed. )

♚;

—————-annalise cants her head, alabaster cheek resting on curled knuckles. one more day, one more pretender to the glory of the higher court. a veritable congress of ministers and advisors surround ( and harass ) her on the daily, and yet there are always more who wish to find their way into the illustrious flock. after all, to serve directly under the queen - to see her, to have her look into your eyes, to touch her - is the deepest ambition of all in cainhurst who are virtuous.

that an outsider should dare aspire to her grace's favor is heresy, but not surprise.

and yet this one... in this one there is promise.

' far from us the thought of doubting thee, dear visitor, ' the queen begins, a bored monotone concealing her growing interest. she has been observing the woman before her with great attention. something about her appeals; a scent like a shroud, concealing aught beneath, an aura that shimmers with every breath.

' but thou must understand - there are many who seek our most elusive benediction. '

annalise redresses on her throne, her mien the picture of royalty were it not for a glint of mischief in her eyes, for the brief appearance of moon-white teeth.

' show our court, then, what thou cometh to offer. demonstrate to us thy faith. '

[corrunuptia]

❛ tell the wolves, i’m home. ❜

get mauled by the queen, except your name is lucius and her heart is in your hands ( accepting )

♚;

‘ damn thee, and wolves eat thy black heart! ’

what should have been a triumphant return is met with fury as annalise rushes towards the knight. she only hesitates briefly, as though measuring her anger, before she pushes a palm on his chest and shoves him away. her hand quickly retracts in invisible pain, clutching into a fist she holds tightly between them. when her black-pearl eyes meet lucius’ they are wet with tears of rage.

‘ why didst thou leave me? I was- we were… ’

she catches herself only too late. the hurt climbs out of her throat and chokes her; annalise holds her breath, repressing a sob. need she say it? for a month she has waited, worry gnawing at her like a great maggot. the moon had waxed and waned again and still she had been without news, not a word or letter from her dearest lucius. he knows too well the hatred harbored for him by the so-called pureblood aristocracy, who envy him with much ill intent. in truth her favor hangs over him like a sword of damocles, a mark painted on his back by her sweet kiss, and only now does annalise understand the full weight of it. in restless dreams she sees him laying on red snow, motionless body outlined in white frost. betrayed again.

‘ ...we were alone. ’

she breaks away from his emerald gaze, eyes falling slowly to the floor. he is hale and whole, unharmed - why then does she feel grieved so? at once she longs for his embrace and loathes the thought of his kiss.

yet this rage is unbecoming of a ruler. annalise steadies herself, taking a deep breath that hitches in her chest. lucius has wounded her heart, that much is true, but he has also ignored his duty towards her. as her personal guard, her trusted advisor, her most precious hound, his extended desertion was unforgivable. steeled through her pain annalise regains her lordly demeanor.

‘ forget not that thy duty is to us, thy queen. thou art ours to command, and thy place is by our side. nowhere else. ’

she has delivered admonishment, and will think of punishment later. for now, the very sight of him is a knife that twists in her gut.