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lured-into-wonderland · 1 year ago

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It was a beautiful sunset. The sky was painted in reds, yellows, pinks, and purples in all their shades. Nunnally stood at the castle window, hugging herself with her own arms as if to give herself some warmth. She was not admiring the sunset. Instead, she was looking over the defense walls, and the forest surrounding the fortress, towards the mountains looming on the horizon. Not only because they reminded her of a place she often considered her second home (her grandparents’ land that owned fealty to her), but also because her destiny lied somewhere behind them. Had she lost? Was it as unavoidable as it seemed? Or did she still have some room to play the game? To win the game? To turn these events into her own advantage? As her Lord Father would. A cold shiver run down her spine, when she thought about him. It wasn’t that Nunnally didn’t love him. Or was truly scared of him. On the contrary, after her grandparents’ death, her father was the only person who was important for her. Regis I; the first king of the united Ascon and Quellheim, the master of life and death, whose words equaled law. Her Lord Father. Nunnally knew he was despised as a tyrant, as a cruel and unforgiving individual, whose iron first united the previously torn kingdom into the rising power of the West. A man who made no mistakes. Apart from…her. She was the only stain on his otherwise perfect reign. A heiress and not a heir. A daughter and not a son.

She suddenly remembered Frederick’s face when her betrothal to prince Leopold von Furchtlos was officially announced. A face of a winner, now almost sure he’d get to inherit the throne. But her cousin didn’t understand her Lord Father as well as she did. This was by no means a final decision. Or any decision at all. It might have sealed her fate, but it didn’t close the discussions of who was to become the next king. Her Lord Father was still young…he could still… No! Nunnally shook her head. No! She didn’t want to think about that. It might bring war and bloodshed. A rebellion. Perhaps. Or perhaps there was already another scheme, another agreement that she was not aware of. She knew it would be her duty to give heirs… She shivered again upon that thought; digging her nails into her palms to remain calm. She was to see her Lord Father soon for the evening meal, and the princess couldn’t have red eyes. The sign she was crying. The sign she was hopeless. The sign she could not accept her duties and her father’s will with dignity that was required from her. Nunnally was aware that she was nothing more than a tool for her father’s convenience, a thing to be traded or sold as her father desired. Her mother’s death, leaving her the only royal child of the Quellheim bloodline, gave her more power and more significance on her father’s chessboard, but obviously not enough to avoid the fate of the majority of royal daughters: the loveless marriages aimed to increase the kingdom’s power and connections, to produce heirs. She shook her head again.

Leopold von Furchtlos. Nunnally von Furchtlos. She didn’t like how these three words sounded together. She was aware she would be despised, perhaps even hated, at her new home. If she would ever be able to call that place ‘home’. She had met prince Leopold once. It was a brief meeting long time ago, before their union was even planned, but she didn’t remember a man she could…love? No, Nunnally! You cannot even think about love. That’s not something that you should reach for. Knowledge. Power. Independence. Agency. And freedom they could give. Focus on that. But…

But could she and Leopold aim at least for being friends? Or allies? Would her future husband be able to accept that his religion wasn’t hers? And never fully be? Yes, Nunnally was aware that she wouldn’t avoid conversion. That was a part of the marriage agreement, and the ambassadors had already provided her with teachers (priests she assumed) introducing her to the only true god. She allowed herself to laugh. It caused her lady-in-waiting to look at the princess with a slight surprise in her eyes, but no words followed. She knew that the princess was her father’s daughter, and she didn’t like to be challenged. Especially not during the time like now.

Nunnally felt that look on her back, but did nothing. Again turning to her own thoughts. No, she couldn’t accept the religion that expected her to be shy and timid. To expect her to be seen but not be heard. Not to be involved in politics and be limited to familial duties. She was born to be a Queen. Not a queen consort. A spark of rebellion in her heart. No, that would not be the end for her. Patience, Nunnally. You have to be patient. The less they know about you the better. Give them what they want to see. Give them what they want to get. And wait. Wait until the time is right.

“It’s not the end…” – she muttered under her breath, but still quietly enough not to alarm her lady-in-waiting. She was almost never alone. The sun had almost set, but it didn’t seem her Lord Father had arrived from his short outing. She turned around and walked towards the mirror. She looked acceptable. Her hair was nicely done; the dress was elegant and made her look charming and fragile. It made it hard to breath, but that was probably of no-one’s concern. Would Leopold think she was pretty? Nunnally knew that was a foolish thought. But even if she was aware her look was not important for the union to happen, she couldn’t completely give up this hope that they could become something more than the two royal children forced together. Unlikely, but…not impossible?

The noise outside the window caught her attention. Her Lord Father was back. It would soon be the time to meet for a meal. She went out of her chambers to the cloister that offered a perfect view of the yard. She was sure her father noticed her but didn’t offer her even a nod. If she were a son, she would be riding next to him instead of standing invisible in the cloisters. A fate of so many women before her. And a fate of so many women that would follow. Would she have a chance to change that? At least for herself?

Should she try to talk to him again? As soon as the thought had appeared, she rejected it. It wouldn’t bring anything good. The King had made his decision. Had announced it. And for the time being it was final. But she knew her Lord Father. Probably better than anyone else. Everyone knew what was on the surface. But what was the real plan beneath it? ( “Focus Nunnally, focus! You’re more like him than you think. Than anyone expects.”) She started to walk. So many questions. So few answers. So many unknowns. But what if she at least try to make them work in her favor? To control them? Her gaze wandered for the a brief moment towards the Southern borders on her kingdom. Alhazaria; the name appeared in her mind. Another unknown. With the rebellion bursting at the edges of Varsovania. But it was not a piece in her puzzle. At least not at this moment.

Oh, how wrong she was.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the sprawling landscape of Alhazaria. Domínico stood atop the parapets of the Royal Alcazar of Zahran, his keen gaze sweeping over the kingdom he ruled. From this vantage point, he could see the diversity of his realm unfold before him — the rugged coastline stretching out along the Sapphire Sea, the rolling hills adorned with vineyards and olive groves, the majestic mountains towering in the distance, and the vast desert to the south with its shimmering sand dunes. It was a kingdom at the crossroads of two worlds, a place where the beauty of the sea met the allure of exotic landscapes.

As he looked out, Domínico's mind drifted back through the pages of history, tracing the footsteps of those who had come before him. Alhazaria was not just a kingdom; it was a living tapestry woven with the threads of generations past. The legacy of his ancestors, their triumphs and struggles, was etched into every stone and grain of sand that made up this land. He recalled the stories of King Rashid and Queen Amira, rulers who had guided Alhazaria through turbulent times, and he felt a weight of responsibility that came with his position as the current monarch.

The city below hummed with activity — the markets bustling, the distant cries of vendors, the murmurs of the people. It was a symphony of order, orchestrated by his meticulous rule. Domínico knew his subjects looked to him and relied on his intellect and stratagem to navigate the complexities of their world. He was a descendant of their gods, after all.

Yet, as the sun's glow deepened, his thoughts turned to the shifting currents beyond Alhazaria's borders. The impending union of Nunally Ambly des Ayvelles and Leopold von Furchtlos was more than a marriage alliance; it was a doorway, an opportunity—a chance for war and expansion. The tension of religious disparities, the discord of ambitions — Domínico dissected these elements with the precision of a strategist, his mind a whirlwind of calculations.

The clash of faiths, he pondered. The implications of an alliance forged on differences. He considered potential catalysts — a skirmish on the fringes of Ambly des Ayvelles' domain involving displaced polytheists seeking shelter. It was a thread he could pull, a seam he could unravel. A spark to ignite the flames of a calculated war, a war he desired for his own gain.

His fingers traced the carvings on the parapet as he imagined various scenarios. The board was set, the pieces poised, and he played with them in his mind. The reasons for war — he could conjure them as easily as he breathed. The consequences, the strategies, the victory — all painted with the strokes of his ambition.

As the sun sank lower, Domínico's thoughts turned to Ángel, his younger brother. The brother he saw potential in, an uncut gem that could be honed and shaped to serve the kingdom's ambitions. In which way he was yet to decide, but just like with anyone in the kingdom, Domínico would find a purpose for him.

" Your Grace, " Thoughts were brought to a halt and he was greeted by a familiar face — his loyal friend and confidant, Luciano. Luciano bowed slightly before meeting Dominico's gaze. " You seem preoccupied. "

" Luciano, " Domínico greeted with a nod, his eyes fixated on the kingdom sprawled below, a land ripe with potential. " You've seen the shifts in the alliances, the brewing tensions at our borders. The marriage between prince Leopold and princess Nunally — it's an opening. "

Luciano's brow furrowed as he studied Domínico's expression. " An opening for what, Your Grace? "

Domínico's lips curved into a shrewd smile, a glint of determination in his eyes. " For expansion, my friend. Our realm has stood strong for generations, our history is etched with resilience. But the time has come to seize the moment, to grow beyond our current borders. "

Luciano's gaze held a mix of understanding and concern. " Are we prepared for the consequences, Your Grace? War, bloodshed — those are not easy paths to tread. "

Domínico's eyes remained unwavering, his voice resolute. " Every great ruler in history has faced such choices. The world bows to power, my friend. Our military is strong, our alliances won't fail us — I've made sure of that, and our people are loyal. "

Luciano nodded slowly, his gaze distant as if contemplating the implications. " Even if they're loyal, will they stand with you in war after so many years of peace? I can imagine some being against it, and internal conflict will make us vulnerable — if it comes to it. "

Domínico's expression softened, his tone carrying a hint of empathy. " Change is never easy, Luciano. But our realm's progress, its advancement—that will be our legacy. We will lay the foundations for a future that resonates through the ages. That is something the people will fight for, and they will if I'm the one doing the talking. "

Luciano's lips quirked into a thoughtful smile. " You've always had a gift for turning adversity into advantage. "

Domínico chuckled, a mixture of pride and amusement in his eyes. " It's what makes a ruler. We must adapt, evolve, and master the art of the unexpected. "

" And what do you propose, Your Grace? " Luciano inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Domínico's gaze grew intense, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the parapets. " We must explore every avenue, seek out weaknesses in our potential foes, and build a case for our actions. Political moves, diplomatic gambits, calculated alliances—all leading to a unified front. "

Luciano nodded, a renewed determination gleaming in his eyes. " It shall be done as you wish. I'll send the word to those that need to hear it. You have my unwavering support, as always. "

Domínico's smile seemed genuine, but even with their bond of trust and shared purpose, Luciano had always been someone Domínico used. " I'd be grievously wounded if I didn't, " he quipped.

As night descended upon the kingdom, Domínico retreated into the depths of the palace, his mind a tempest of thoughts and plans. The future awaited, a tapestry waiting to be woven — one where faith, alliance, and ambition would converge in ways neither he nor the realm could predict. However, that didn't mean he couldn't control all of it. / @lured-into-wonderland

#dominico #nunnally #verse: royal #aurorxaeternitatis #so he has her here #served almost on a plate #with her big and little #wishes #fears and desires #also as for the spies we briefly discussed #happy to provide some details on the investigated topics #so is the chessboard set?#is there a time for the opening move?#and thank you for the wonderful starter & plotting

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