#boy prince and his favourite revolutionary toy

[blorbocedes]

context: @beparwah96 and I have been this cooking this medieval royalty au. after an unsuccessful revolt led by pierre's older brothers against the king, the spoiled youngest pierre gets the throne. esteban, son of poor blacksmith and once childhood friend, was an important faction leader of the revolution. when they're executing traitors, pierre recognizes him -- and decides to keep him, as a cupbearer to humiliate him. this is set after esteban tries to escape, goes missing for days, and breaks his leg in the process.

"Time and again, I have spared you. I have treated you far better than a traitor deserves. Against the advice of my council, I have showed you mercy. And you, worse than a starving dog who will bite even its own master, instead of bowing at my generosity in your eternal debt -- you dare leave me? I should have you whipped in the town square. Dragged on your useless feet, see how far they can run now."

"Your highness should have let this humble servant die." Esteban laughs and it is a hollow sound, painful from where his ribs were bruised. He was delirious from the pain, whatever medicine the palace physicians applied added to it. Esteban's vision was swaying, Pierre looked in his anger as the petit au prince Esteban once knew, round cheeked and furrowed brow, stomping the ground and demanding his every fleeting desire be met.

What a predicament Esteban has found himself in. He had a coward's constitution when the dagger was in his hand, unable to do what was needed to rid the motherland of this tyrant. He was strong once, a stature and strength that could take down even the fiercest of man and beast alike, now whittled down to bones taut against skin. Sir Ocon. He is of no use to his country, the revolution, or even his own body -- marred and ugly. And yet, this enfant terrible dauphin insists on his broken toy.

Pierre's handsome features twisted into something ugly and vicious at Esteban's words. "Your king chooses how you die. How you live. Your body is not your own. Before I allow it, not even the gods can take you away, do you hear me?" Pierre snarled, his hand on Esteban's knee and with one motion he can make it so Esteban can never walk again. The pain is sharp, throbbing where he touches it no matter how feather light. Pierre presses down. Esteban jerks up in pain, the whine of a wounded animal torn from his throat.

It is not enough to cripple, but it is enough for the arms of darkness to cradle Esteban where the pain cannot reach him, sweet slumber.

[deztinywarriors]

The Linked Charms - Episode 33 (Multi Liverpool players)

Title: Linked Charms

Pairings: Trent/Marina(oc#1), Mo Salah /Dr Karina(oc#2), Andy/Yvonne(oc#3), Virgil/Amelia(oc#4)

Trigger warning: domestic violence

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLo5ZFGia7m-cTVrdeBxcBTNFFriZlFXtR Soundtrack list

That evening, the mansion atmosphere became chaotic once Amelia dragged crying Christoph and Anya upstairs before locking themselves inside the kids bedroom “You’ve just disgraced me for today. I never taught you both to become a bully!” Marina, Karina and Yvonne rushed upstairs, stopped by the door as they called her “Ami, calm down!” Marina knocked the door, heard Amelia’s shout and the kids pleading cries. Sje tried to open it but it’s locked from inside. Yvonne slammed her hand to door “Ami, what are you doing inside?” That’s when they heard a belt clinking sound which it makes the girls thought Amelia was going to hit them with it to release her anger against them. The kids cried louder “Mama, please stop!” PIAP! PIAP!! PIAPP!! The girls panicked by the belt slap against the kids makes Imogen came there as well “What’s the matter?” Until she heard the noise from inside the bedroom, she quickly knocked the door “Amelia, can you please open the door? Amelia!!” But it was no avail. The belt slapping sound became more frequent and the kids kept crying. Around five minutes later, the boy’s cars arrived by the front yard. Virgil rushed upstairs when they heard Imogen’s shout. “Virgil, help us. Amelia locked Christoph and Anya inside the room. And we heard the belt sound. We don’t know what she is doing against them” Karina pleaded as she, Imogen and the other sisters stepped aside. “Stay here” he commanded to the girls and Imogen as he slammed the door with his shoulder. After three times attempt slamming the door, it opened wide revealing crying Christoph and Anya sat against the edge of bed while angry Amelia with holding a belt swinging it to hit them continuously. Virgil rushed toward Amelia, gripping her wrist with holding belt makes she shouted “I’m going to give them a lesson!” “This is not a solution, Ami. Calm down!” He gripped another wrist to make her facing him. Christoph and Anya still crying with some red slapping mark on their arms and legs “I just heard this from Imogen but this is not a right way to teach them a lesson” he added then asked “What they’ve done for today?” Imogen shushed as she whispered to the girls “We better leave them for privacy” she closed the door while the girls went downstairs. Christoph and Anya climbed up on bed, sat up as the little boy said “Brian and Mandy bullied Anya recently. I punched him on his face to defend Anya” “I know you’re defending your sister but violence is not a solution” Virgil said “You’re supposed to lodge this to your teacher” “But Papa-” Christoph replied. “Enough. Luckily you both only been sent back home for today. If you both get dropped out because of this case… how am I going to face everyone that my children is a bully?” Amelia sadly interrupted as she cupped her cheeks. “You both just make mistake for today. As a punishment, there’s no TV for a week” Virgil stood up as he added “Just make your homework then wait for us before dinner” then he glared to Amelia “Ami, we need to talk” Both of them headed out from the kids bedroom before entering their bedroom, locked the door “I never expected you have this kind of side, Ami” he said bluntly then scolded “And I’m really disappointed on you. Is this how you taught them a lesson if they made a mistake?!” Amelia sat at edge of bed, looking down with gloomy expression “Es tut mir leid, Liebling. I can’t control myself” “This is not an excuse. When I seen you rewarded them with books and toys, playing with them, I thought you’re the greatest mother for them. And now…” then Virgil continued “Is this how you taught them a lesson if they’re making mistakes? Hitting them with this?!” He threw the belt that he snatched from her to floor. Amelia quickly hugged his legs as she begged “Liebling, I’m sorry. I know I was wrong but please…” she sobbed lightly then added “Please punish me! Anything!!” His stern look turned into evil smirk when he heard she requested to get punished “Say it again” he whispered. “Punish me!” Amelia pleaded then looked down since she realised that her request might be a prayer then she asked “Liebling, how did you know that I have thing on some sex kinks?” “I’ve read your secret journals when you’re asleep” Virgil replied then explained of when he get it. *Flashback start* There was one night Amelia fell asleep on work table with her three notebooks found inside opened electronic diary. The door opened as Virgil came in, noticing she was asleep makes he gently brushed her hair, kissing her head before carefully grabbed each three notebooks from inside electronic diary. The first journal was about Amelia’s dream life with her prince charming. That’s when he found a poem written: Victory can’t be reached by only single step. Intelligence and hard work pays it all for him. Revolutionary man who changed the world of mine. Gripping the whole dream from the heaven above Indicated by how faithful and honesty he is. Light is waiting upon him when he knew the time comes. Victory doesn’t come by its own without his determination. Achieved by combination of hard work and passion. Naturally, he is the perfect one. Delightfully surprised that he finally reached his dream. Intentionally making everyone love how great he is. Jeopardising the whole memories to become a new legend. Kind words of his to make world a better place. Virgil only chuckled when he read the stanza of the poem about himself before he read the second journal that written essays of Amelia’s rebellious dream to be anything what she want for. From being a singer, artist, engineer, sportswoman, author, fashion designer, chef, detective and others. He only able to shake his head, finding out her wide imagination until he picked up third journal which it revealed detailed erotic stories written by Amelia. That’s when he found out the note of her turn on’s and off’s written…. ****** Let’s see what are my turn on’s when having sex. I like my man talk dirty in other languages: German, Dutch, Swedish, Russian… as long as I could understand it. I like when my man kissed my breasts. My mind was thinking of ’ Oh God… he know my weakness. I’ll let him worship my body’. As well as feeling his hands kneaded my ass, looks like he loves my body more than I am. For my turn off’s, well… I hate distracting noises during having sex. Just like when Virgil fucked me and suddenly Gini called him which it makes me unable to think straight once I heard his voice in loudspeaker mode. Scheiße! And one more thing, I don’t like baby kink thing. Forcing me to wear diapers, put pacifier on my mouth. Please… I’m a big girl! ********* Remembering the moment they both had sex for first time until Gini called him makes he chuckled, sounds weird but funny sometimes when he recalled it. And then he read the other pages where he found lists of her favourite kinks. It written… ****** I love of being control by my man actually, just sometimes I’ll get my hands to take charge in case I have good mood. I also like bondages, been tied with belt or anything making me effortlessly to move. And I also like to feel the pain. Feeling his hand slapping my ass makes me want more from him. And I love having some toys too. Melt candle? Sharp knife? Hmm… depends on my mood… Hehe~ And I also wanted to call him daddy once he gets in control. Feeling him choking me, pulling up my hair… And a camera filming us having sex makes me think that I’m gonna be his whore. Haha~ ******** “Fucking shit. What did I just read?” He asked in whispering tone before noticing Amelia grunted lightly makes he gently brushed her hair before noticing she continued asleep. He flipped another page when he found bunch of stories about her sex fantasies written…. ********* Episode 1: Rape fantasy (I know it might be triggering) “Please sir. I don’t want you to kill me. I can give you anything!” I screamed as he climbed up the bed. The tall and dark skinned man with wearing a face mask just intruded my house and now he found me wearing only short nightgown and lace panties. I noticed he glared to my thighs makes he spread my legs wide, caressing them while I cried “Oh please, please… right there…” I just closed my eyes when he played the hem of my panties, pulling it down. Scheiße… is he want to soil me…? ******** Episode 2: My Dreamy PE teacher What a handsome teacher who just came far away from Netherlands. Mr van Dijk is his name, the PE teacher. And now he just called me once PE class ended for private talk. I don’t know what he’s going to do to me. We both locked ourselves inside sport equipment store room while I noticed he glared to my short tennis skirt makes he asked me “Why are you wearing that kind of skirt? It’s too exposing” “Oh… my bad” I giggled lightly before noticing he kept glaring over my skirt. “And did you wear underwear beneath it?” Scheiße. Looks like he knows that I’m going to seduce him with wearing tennis skirt with no panties underneath. Can’t wait for him to see my pussy and eat them out. I really want him to be mine…. ********* Episode 3: I need a Doctor… “Yes doctor. I really need you” I whispered to him while he climbed up on bed where I laid down. My headache is going critical and he told me that there’s only one solution to heal without surgery. Feeling his tip rubbed along my pussy makes me pleaded “Doctor, please…!” “Call me Virgil. Remember that name when you’re with me” he replied to me as he pushed his dick in. Ah scheiße… he’s too huge for my tight pussy. But I love it. I moaned to him “Fuck yes… I only need your cock as remedy for my head. Please…” My voice getting louder when his whole length filled inside me makes me smiled wide. He really great on healing his patients, and he’s treating me on the bed…. ******** Episode 4: The Queen’s Forbidden Lover I know that I need a heir for my throne but there’s no royal came upon me makes me desperate wanted to have one or two for my kingdom. Until my personal knight, Virgil came over as I invited him to my bedroom. I caressed his hair as I pleaded “I have a request from you. I need a heir for my kingdom and I’m really desperate” “Do you wanted me to make love to you, your highness?” He asked then shook his head “It’s wrong” “It’s my order, Virgil. I want you to impregnate me. Maybe for this time but I really need it. Please…” I pleaded again. He’s such a handsome and strong man. I bet he can give me a perfect heir for my throne. Even just one night. ******* Episode 5: Project V8791 I keep chuckling when I felt his tongue licked along my pussy, it’s really great I programmed him of varied sex positions and he acts like he knows everything. V8791 or his human name: Virgil van Dijk had been progressing not just with varied chores, even he can entertain his client, women of course since I only able to programme him as heterosexual man. I sensed his tongue entered my walls as I tilted my head up. Oh yes… I can’t believe he’s so talented. I wanted him more and more… ******* Just when he wanted to read another episodes, he noticed Amelia slowly awake makes he quickly put down the journal on her table, getting back to sleep like nothing happened. She glared to her journals then to her Dutch lover, giggled lightly. *Flashback end* “Oh well… you just read my secrets” Amelia stuck her tongue out before getting up in her feet, kissing him deeply. They both fell on bed, getting their lips met while their hands caressed each other’s hair. That’s when Virgil picked up the belt he threw down, wrapping it around Amelia’s wrists to pin her down. “I can’t wait for you take charge on me” she chuckled then mewl “Meow~” Meanwhile Christoph and Anya just finished their homework, rushed downstairs as they both headed outside to their treehouse. Imogen asked them “Have you done with your homework?” “Yes, granny” the twins replied. It makes Imogen sighed as she continued reading the book while the kids went to the treehouse, climbing up the ladders to their hideout. Around two hours the German - Dutch lovers having their times on bed with several rounds of rough fucks, Amelia sighed in relief, chuckled softly as her wrists still tied up , some bruises on her thighs by hard slaps but she didn’t care. She has thing on BDSM kinks and finally Virgil just knew it. Relief moan escaped from her lips when she felt him gently brushed warm towel along her pussy, wiping out her leaked juices and his seeds while he leaned down to give her a gentle kiss. It was like a routine for them. “This is so perfect, Liebling” Amelia giggled lightly before noticing him placed a towel on bedside table, then heading out to bathroom. The Dutch giant just prepared a warm bath, noticing a jar of varied flower petals and orange peels makes he poured them down inside tub filled with warm water. Then he came back to bedroom, carefully carrying Amelia in bridal style to take her for warm bath to soothe her down. As Amelia get her body fully soaked inside water with flower petals and orange peels inside tub, she giggled lightly since she really loves to be pampered like a queen, and it makes her legs no longer aching “Come and join me, Liebling” It makes Virgil smiled back, shaking his head “I don’t want to hurt you with another round of fucks” it makes they laughed while she playfully pinched his nose. “Alright, alright. Keep this queen in company, okay?” Amelia winked. Agreeing on her request, Virgil with only wearing towel around his waist grabbed a book from work table which it’s Amelia’s untitled work-in-progress novel, sat next to the bath tub while she rested her chin on her arm to get closer to him. He read the beginning of the novel which it’s about the adventure of two strangers: Emmi and Viktor which it’s kinda knock off of themselves - received the anonymous parcel makes they discovered a key to the new dimension named Utopia before they facing the adventurous journey besides they started getting their love story began. As Virgil completed reading each full pages, he gave Amelia a deep kiss before flipping to net page, continue reading it despite there’s a few complicated German and Dutch words that he needs to pronounce. And she also enjoyed her bath time and having someone in company. ————— That night, Miroslav gathered Ernst, Imogen, the girls and boys inside living room as he said “Bad news. Paula Speichern had been escaped from psychiatric hospital last night” Amelia cupped her mouth since her ‘mother’ just escaped and roaming around the town while Virgil grabbed her hand to calm her down. “Is she going to take vengeance on us? She already murdered my mom and now?” Yvonne asked. “Possibly. Doctor told me her bipolar was getting worst day by day even they just discovered that she became more aggressive once she heard any news about Amelia or Papa” Miroslav explained. “What was running in your mind, Paula?” Ernst muttered as he still remembered something “You cheated on me before… and you murdered Yolanda. And now… this?” “Wait… 'mother’ cheated on you? But how?” Amelia asked. Ernst silenced for a while, removing his glasses before he replied “She has a son from her previous relationship without telling me” “But it doesn’t mean she cheated on you, Papa” Amelia said “And that son was Ariel” “Ariel?” All of them asked, except Virgil shown them normal expression since he already knew it. “My 'mother’ used to marry someone named Wilhelm Speichern but divorced since he cheated on her for other woman. They had a son named Ariel. Unfortunately, Ariel died when I was three, fell down from apartment in Paris” Amelia explained. “I’m sorry for that, Ami. It might be hurts when you lose your own sibling” Imogen sighed. “So that means you’re Franco-German mix” Karina interrupted “Your mother maybe a French and she married to German man” “It is. My 'mother’ maiden name was Boonefoy. Paula Marie Boonefoy” Amelia replied. “Now back to the topic. Is there anyone know motive for Yolanda’s homicide?” Marina asked to change topic. “So far, there’s no valid information about it. But there’s only one theory” Miroslav replied “She has grudge on everyone especially Papa for breaking her heart. And the only daughter she had, for leaving her for a man who will protect her” “And it’s me…” Amelia gasped as she cupped her chest, feeling light pain since she worried of her safety until she felt Virgil pulled her close to him. “But it doesn’t mean the rest are safe” Miroslav added “She knew the remaining generation of Vambürt family still survived so she decided to finish them once for all” “This is too much. She must be stopped by all cost” Trent said. Miroslav nodded lightly “We have to be more careful with her. She diagnosed with bipolar disorder. And her behaviour is too unpredictable” “And wait the minute. Usually those who has bipolar disorder usually will inherit their traits to their children” Karina interrupted. It makes everyone silenced before glaring to Amelia. “Why are you looking to me?” Amelia shocked. “No wonder we noticed you have multiple talents, Amelia. It’s one of the symptoms of bipolar disorder” Ernst said “And you started having maniac and depressed mode, depends on your mood” “So that means she also behave like her mother?” Andy asked. “Not necessarily. Amelia might be inherited her mother’s beauty and talents…. but not her insanity” Ernst replied then he clapped his hands “Alright. Forget about it. Next week, we will have a family event. It’s one year anniversary of our family reunion” “Papa, I’m going to Marseille next week to visit my family-in-law” Miroslav whispered. “Postpone it. We have most important event here” Imogen interrupted making the blonde photographer pouted. “And how about we make murder mystery party?” Marina suggested “It would be fun since we have large scale family party” “Are you forgot that we have kids here?” Mo asked suddenly since he realised Christoph and Anya already sleeping upstairs and it makes everyone silenced. “A murder mystery party, but not too eerie” Amelia corrected “Since we have kids, we need to think the suitable theme that fit for a whole family” “Maybe [Family Reunion] helps” Trent suggested “It’s like what we used to experience when we met for first time. But the difference is the host invited all his children to meet for a dinner and they brought along their husbands-” Miroslav coughed lightly before Trent added “And we maybe need some change. All of his daughters and they brought their husbands. That’s when they have some surprises of having unexpected guests and…” “There would be a murder?” Andy asked to interrupt. “Maybe….” “Alright. So I will be the host since I have to invite his daughters for reunion” Ernst asked “How about you?” “I’m of course gonna play as typical stepmother who marrying the host after their mothers death” Imogen huffed. “And I’m as a family butler?” Miroslav shrugged lightly. “So we need to make a background details on all of us” Marina said “We can’t simply said our husbands are footballers. It will ruining the party themes” “Let’s see… Marina would be a lawyer, I’m as vet of course. Yvonne might be a street artist-” Karina suggested. “Fuck off” Yvonne huffed, crossing her arms. “And I’m maybe as an ordinary housewife. Mother of two kids” Amelia interrupted. “And how about the boy’s background?” Ernst asked. “I was thinking of the street musician” Trent suggested then shrugged, chuckling lightly. “Not bad, mate. I’m maybe as working class people. A clerk, perhaps?” Andy asked. Karina nudged Mo as she asked “How about you, sevgilim?” “I think I’m as a model?” Mo chuckled. “Mohamed, I’m not encouraged you for that as your background for the party. Family reunion usually about the daughter brought along their ordinary husbands” Ernst advised. It makes Mo silenced again, thinking until he asked “I think a barista” it makes everyone fell down on floor with their legs raised up on air while Karina playfully slapped his arm. Amelia asked to Virgil “How about you, Liebling?” It makes him thought of suitable background job for the murder mystery party before he suggested “I think a policeman or fire fighter” “Well….” Amelia started to think the logical theory if a daughter can bring her husband who a working in uniformed services then nodded “Alright. My king is a policeman” it makes him looked down in embarrassment. “Wait the second. Virgil has long hair, right? Policemen usually has shorter hairs” Miroslav interrupted which it makes both of them thought of another idea again. “How about a young tycoon? Maybe you’re a new businessman in the making. You marrying his secretary but then she switched to be housewife to focus on her family” Amelia suggested to him, making him blushed again. “Technically Amelia marrying a rich man” Yvonne interrupted, chuckling lightly. “I think we just got our roles. Unless if you want to bring your friends along, inform them about the roles they’re going to play with” Ernst said “And for costumes, there’s no need to be fancy. Just make yourself comfortable, and fits for the character” “So when are we going to make the party? I mean the exact date for it” Trent asked. “We encouraged to make it this Saturday night” Ernst replied. “Easy. It’s a day after our match against Sheffield United” Mo added “Can’t wait to inform Dejan” —————— Meanwhile, Paula just arrived at the prison where Julian had been imprisoned, holding a long cord as she strangled the security guards by the gate before she used their clothes for disguise. Holding a baton, she walked inside the prison and hit another warden in charge and get another outfits to wear on. And she found bunch of keys makes she knew how to do. As Paula in warden outfit walked upstairs to high secured cells, no one suspected anything until she arrived at Julian’s cell. The bad guy was drawing something on wall noticed Paula stood by the door makes he rushed there “What for?” Paula silenced as she unlocked the key before opened the door wide. “What the fuck?” Julian walked out in disbelief as he asked her “Seriously?” Paula just nodded before watching Julian walked along the corridor to the switch room to activate emergency alarm. As the siren rang loudly, it makes around 40 Julian’s men rushed out from their cells, excitedly cheered of their escape day “All Hail Neumann! All hail Neumann!” The remaining warden who just realised the loud siren get their weapons ready to attack the escaped prisoners but it makes they had been outnumbered, been beaten up badly or shoot down before rushing out through the gate. It was a chaotic night in London when all people quickly shut down windows and doors when they heard loud screams out there. ———– Meanwhile back in mansion, the family gathering had been interrupted by Dejan’s phone call as Mo answered it “Mo, switch on the TV hurry!” It makes Miroslav switched on the television as it revealed the breaking news. The news anchor said “Around 40 prisoners had been escaped from London Central Jail in last few hours including the most dangerous criminal in United Kingdom, Julian Neumann. If any of you seen any of these faces, everyone advised to contact the police” the TV screen shows 40 faces of the escaped prisoners including Julian. It makes everyone shocked on what they’ve just heard. Another trouble came in, waiting for another drama. “Fucking shit” Virgil groaned, brushing his hair back.

[sprnklersplashes]

Truth of his Dreams (2/?)

AO3

Eight years pass since the execution of the royal family and the declaration of a new Rhodia, a fairer, more equal Rhodia, created and built by the working people to become the envy of the world. Equal wages, ample food, free education. That was the fantasy, the promise of the revolutionaries that had stirred so many people to fight for their side.

The reality however, is a long way off from what had been promised. The reality was walls with ears, skies grey with the smoke the new factories produced, lines all the way down the sidewalk waiting for one loaf of bread to feed their families, as well as running the risk of it being stolen with one of the ten or more people they were cramped into their small flats with under the guise of “equality”. If you’re lucky you get to live in a building that is still in-tact; many buildings were partially destroyed during that fateful night eight years before and had never been repaired, leaving families living with holes in the wall covered with planks of wood. One can’t complain though; not out loud anyway, or they’ll fear being whisked off to who-knows-where. By Tanya’s count, seven high profile people had disappeared form the streets of the Capitol.

In the middle of the square, standing on the marble podium where a statue of the King had once been, a tall woman, brown haired and smiling, addresses a crowd gathering there, her voice bellowing over the worried tones of the ordinary people gathered on the cobblestones.

“I hear you, friends. We all hear you. Together, we forge a new Rhodia, a better country, for all the world to envy. The old Capitol is now the people’s Coal Hill!” she declared, saluting her fellow comrades.

“They can call it Coal Hill,” Tanya mutters, barely loud enough for herself to hear, never mind anyone else. “But it’ll always be the Capitol.” New name, same empty stomachs and uncertain future. She isn’t a monarchist, not by a long shot, but she isn’t with the new regime either. The centre of town should be her least favourite part of the whole city; it’s crowded, it’s loud, you can’t turn around for fear of being abducted. Still, needs must, they have the best markets in the country. And she has to admit, the best gossip. She perches herself on top of an overflowing bin and listens to those who gather in the nearby alley to swap stories, listening to the juiciest secrets about the Chancellor’s allergy to peppers or that the General is bald under that wig (although frankly, he’s not fooling anyone). It’s scummy, maybe, but it gets her through the day.

“Have you heard,” a woman asks in a low voice, so low Tanya is nearly falling off her seat in an attempt to hear. “There’s rumours about the royal family.”

“The royal family!” her companion scoffs. “They were gunned down in their own home and good riddance to them!”

“Yes, but apparently,” the woman continues, casting a glare to her friend and slipping a pile of folded up paper, maybe three or four sheets. “Although the King and Queen didn’t live, there’s a chance their son may be still alive.”

Tanya shakes her head. Of course, she would be shocked, had she not heard the same rumour yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. It was the Capitol’s favourite story, buzzing around when officers weren’t around, whispered in alleyways spies didn’t look twice at, through cracks in walls. It was nothing more than a rumour, albeit a rumour that was woven into their history.

Tanya should know that there’s no point in wondering; the prince died with his parents the night the rebels stormed the palace. Everyone knows that.

Still, there is talk that they never found a body.

“But look!” one of the women says, pointing at the paper. “Just last week, the Queen Mother declared a reward. A royal sum for the royal prince.”

Now she is interested. She leans against the prickly and cold brick wall behind her and watches the women, listening intently to every detail of their conversation, all the while a plan comes together in her brain. She needs one of those newspapers. She can’t possibly make a plan without all the variables. When the one with the paper makes to leave, she jumps down and cuts her off.

“Hello there,” she greets, her eyes straying to the bulge in the woman’s pocket despite her attempts to focus on her face.

“What is it, girl?” she scoffs, having no time for a rough-sleeping street orphan like her.

“That paper,” she whispers. “Can I have a look at it?”

“You can have more than a look,” she offers, raising an eyebrow. “For the right price.”

��Of course.” Tanya wants to laugh at her, thinking she can possibly beat her at a game she became a professional at before the age of ten, one that had been her key to survival. “I don’t suppose this would be of any use to you?” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out what would look like a gold necklace. In reality, it was a few wires she had braided together and then painted gold with some paint she found on a street corner, swiped when the artist had her back turned, then returned of course. “Found it in the ruins of the palace. Solid gold, of course, rumoured to have belonged to the Queen’s sister.” The woman’s eyes light up greedily when she sees it, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth.

“Deal,” she says, practically swiping it out of Tanya’s hand and replacing it with the paper.

“Sucker,” Tanya whispers as the woman scurries away. She perches herself back on the bin, scanning the area for officers while reading the article. Most of it is a history lesson; how the royals were killed, and their associates and other nobles fled, all things Tanya knows like the back of her hand. She doesn’t need a reminder of that night. Some things you don’t easily forget.

But it’s the bottom of the page that’s different; the bottom of the page states that the Queen Mother, living in London, is still holding out hope that her grandson survived. And she’s prepared to offer a £10,000,000 reward to whoever returns the Prince, the real Prince (since she also states that she’s been tricked too many times) to her, safe and sound.

Tanya’s eyes light up at the prospect, focussing entirely on the reward money. She had never had that much money in her wildest dreams. Splitting it among her friends would still leave a sizeable amount for her. Enough to buy herself a cosy place in London and probably eat full meals every night until she dies of old age.

It was prefect.

“Tanya!” April calls, jogging up to her, carrying a half-full bag of food. Matteusz and Ram trail behind her, both with their own sorry looking bags.

“Word is they’ve closed off another border,” Ram huffs. “I’ve told you all, we should have gotten out of here while we could! Borders are dropping like flies.”

“I’ve nearly got the travel papers,” Matteusz assures him. “Then we just need a place to live. And means of getting money.”

Tanya was only half listening, her eyes fixed on the paper.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about the Prince Charles,” she remarks in a low voice as they make their way to the two-bedroom, damp hellhole they’ve been calling a home.

“You and the rest of the bloody country,” April replies.

“I say who cares if he’s dead or alive,” Ram sighs.

“You should care,” Tanya says and leans up against a wall, motioning her friends to gather round her. “Because he’s our ticket out.” She flashes the paper in front of them, pointing to the reward amount. Ram’s jaw nearly hits the floor. “We find a boy to play the part, dress him up and get him to London.”

“Look at the reward the grandma is willing to pay,” Ram whispers. April is clearly trying not to look impressed, but she can’t help her eyes widening at the amount.

“Who else could pull it off but us?” she asks. “Think about it, we’ll be millionaires!”

“We’ll be out,” Matteusz adds, but still looking conflicted. Of all the group, he is easily the one with the softest heart. He’s a conman, like them, but one with a fairly guilty conscience.

“We’ll be just another rumour in the Capitol,” she says. “So, come on.” She leads them down the street, away from their normal route, turning towards the old houses, where counts and countesses and dukes and duchesses lived in the time before the revolution. She ducked through a small doorway, motioning for the rest to follow her.

“Where are we going?” Matteusz asked.

“We’ll need something to make it authentic,” Tanya tells him. “Something that belonged to him to show the old lady.” She pulls aside a curtain, revealing a room full of men and women showing off ornate, expensive looking items. “In here there’s an underground market of old stuff people stole from the palace when it was raided.”

“How much for this painting?” one asks, holding up a painting of the palace, so accurate you could have sworn it was a photograph. “It’s the Queen’s, I swear on my life!”

“Count Capaldi’s pyjamas, buy the pair, the perfect keepsake for any royal fanatic!” another calls.

“This was in the palace,” another announces, waving a silk handkerchief in the air. “Initialled with a C. Could be Charles’, where shall we start the bidding?”

“We’ll need something that would have belonged to the Prince. Matteusz, your father worked in the palace, could anything here look like it did?”

“I never came into contact with the Prince,” he tells her, toying with the leather bracelet on his left wrist. “Tanya are you sure about this plan? It’s risking a lot. Which is saying something for us.”

“Yes, it’s risky, but no more than usual,” she says. “We’ll need papers, tickets, nerves of steel.”

“A lot more than usual,” he corrects her. “We can only hope we don’t get shot.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, Matti,” she says. He tenses at that. Yes, it’s dangerous, but remaining in Rhodia is infinitely more dangerous. Tanya sighs, guilt striking her gut, and she puts her hand on his shoulder. He has to bend his knees to let her reach. “I’m sorry, Matti. I’d never leave you here. But you know our best chance is together. And besides, I’ll jump in front of that bullet for you.” He smiles at that.

“Liar,” he replies, but it’s with an easy grin.  He bumps his arm against her shoulder and they stroll over to a stall where April and Ram stand, hands in each other’s back pockets, looking over some items from the palace. They’re mostly inconsequential, pieces of curtains and torn jackets and dresses, but something catches Tanya’s eye. It’s a small box, the glint of the gold on it makes her notice it. She shifts the scarf that half-covers it to get a better look and notices the glittering lettering on it “Together in London”.

“How much for the music box?” she asks the vender. His eyes dart to the box in question and he snatches it up, holding it close to his chest.

“The music box, it’s a genuine royal. I could never part with it,” he explains, stroking the box like a cat. After a brief look with April, a quick nod from her, Tanya rolls her eyes and reaches into April’s bag.

“Two cans of beans, comrade?” she asks, waving them in the air. It takes all of five seconds for the vender to agree to trade his apparent prized possession for some extra food. She holds it up so her friends around her can see it.

“Do you think it belonged to him?” Ram asks.

“He said it was genuine,” Tanya says. “And didn’t the grandmother take off to London?”

“It’s real,” Matteusz says softly. At the sight of the music box, his face goes three shades paler. “It was his.”

“How do you know?” April asks while moving to help him sit, but he swats her away, eyes fixed on the box in Tanya’s hand.

“I just do,” he answers. “I saw it in his bedroom.”

“Thought you never went near the royal family,” Ram says.

“I didn’t. But his bedroom, I hid there when the soldiers came,” he says, and everyone knows to shut up. They all have their own demons from the night of the revolution, and they all made a silent promise to each other not to talk about it. They knew that Matteusz and his father had been in the palace the night they soldier stormed the palace and that Matteusz made it out alive. His father wasn’t so fortunate. He toys with his bracelet again as he speaks. “It was in his bedroom.”

“Okay then,” Tanya announces, leading them out of the room and to a large open window so Matteusz can breathe. “All we need now is a theatre and the boy.” They lean against the window, watching the grey skies, and eventually watch the rain begin to pour down in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Do you guys think he is alive?” April asks. They look from one to the other, all not knowing the Prince’s true fate. Matteusz runs his finger along his bracelet, slowly at first, but starting to get faster, to the point where Tanya worries he’ll wear out the leather.

“It’s a fascinating mystery,” he admits.

“Suppose it will be a bit of a fairy-tale,” April says. “Reuniting the Prince and his long-lost family.”

“A fairy-tale the whole world will believe,” Tanya agrees, looking out to the crowd of people below, walking around the square in groups of two or three, whispering excitedly about the ‘long lost Prince’. Soon she suspects they’ll be whispering about her and Ram and April and Matteusz, the group who reunited the royal family.

It’s a pity that Tanya lost her belief in fairy tales long before the Prince went missing.

                                                                                                               *****

A day’s drive from the Capitol, stood a tall, concrete structure with a high, barbed wire fence and a door with a heavy iron knocker. To an ignorant passer-by, it would look like a prison, but bizarrely, and unfortunately, it was an orphanage. It housed mostly orphans of the revolution, as they were called, children whose parents were killed in the chaos, or whose families had had ties to the royals and were killed while they look on, horrified.  Children who waved their fathers and mothers goodbye that morning as they went to work and never came home.

Charlie is dragged out from the orphanage by his scarf by the Matron, tripping over his feet as he turned to wave goodbye to the children with their faces pressed against the windows, watching him leave. It happened every time an orphan turned 17, they were found work and sent out to the first place that hired them. It only took a small five months for them to find Charlie a position in a factory, boxing fish. And they said jobs weren’t easy to come by in this new regime.

“Will you come on!” she snaps, giving his scarf another tough yank. “For the past eight years….” Here it was. The lecture Charlie had been subjected to every damn year. The only part of the lecture that ever changed was the amount of years as he grew older. “I’ve fed you, clothed you, kept you clean and off the streets, kept you warm with a roof over your head, all while you stride around, acting like the King of Sheba-”

She stops abruptly when she turns to look at him and finds Charlie giving a not-so-flattering pantomime of her speech. She’s not amused and shows as much with a sharp smack on his face.

“How is it that you do not have a clue who you were before you came here, but you can remember all that?” she asks, dragging him by the ear to the gate.

“Ow, ow, ow, stop it,” he begs, swatting at her. “You know I hate that. And anyway, I do have a clue.”

“Oh, your prophetic dreams?” she asks mockingly. “Your gut instinct that your family is in London?”

“Exactly,” he says, tugging at his jacket.

“So, you want to go to England to find your family?” she asks. “Well grow up, child. You’ll never have the money nor means to get to England. Now go on, away with you. This job was difficult for me to find for you. I had to fight tooth and nail.”

“Just for me, Matron. I knew you had a soft spot for me,” he says, running away before he can get another clip on the ear. He runs down the route she has drilled into him; jogging down the path until he finds himself at a crossroads. One sign, pointing left, goes to Akhaten, the small fishing village where his career lies. Thirty, maybe fourth years of boxing stinking fish on a conveyor belt. And on the right, there is the Capitol. The place where he could get tickets, money, a train. A way out. A way home, he dared to think.

“Turn left,” he says, mocking Matron’s high voice. “I know what’s left. I’ll be Charlie the orphan forever. But if I were to go right….” His voice trails off and he rolls his eyes at his own stupidity. “Me? Go to London? Yeah, right.” But he feels in his gut that he needs to go. Ever since his first days in the orphanage, there’s been a voice in the back of his mind screaming “London, London, London”. All he has seen of the city was in old films; drinking in the skyline and tall buildings, scanning the crowds for a familiar face, hoping some small detail would jump out and jog his memory.

“I need a sign,” he calls out, begging some unseen force. “Something to tell me what I should do.”

He’s not entirely sure what kind of sign he’s looking for. Nevertheless, he gets his scarf pulled off him by… something. He turns and finds a small dog, grey fur only slightly messy, holding his scarf in his mouth, panting.

“Very cute, little man,” he remarks. “Now can I have that back?” The dog cocks his head and whines before backing up. There’s a glint in the little fella’s eye that shows Charlie it’s all in good fun. “Ha ha. But come on, I need that.”

The blasted dog scampers off in the other direction.

“Come back!” Charlie calls, running after him. He chases him down easily, of course. He’s a small dog and Charlie’s fast. He lifts him up and tries to pull the scarf out of his mouth, with little success. “Come on, that’s not fair, I’m already going to be late….” His voice trails off when he stands and takes in his surroundings. He chased the dog right, away from Akhaten and the fish factory, towards the Capitol.

In fairness, he did ask for a sign. He just didn’t think it would be this furry. Or cute.

“Okay,” he breathes, looking out at the bath before him. Grey skies and a concrete road. Cars and trains pass in the distance. He can always go back, take the safe route and live out his quiet, normal, uneventful life. A life not knowing who he is.

He can’t afford to lose his courage right now. All his life, well all that he remembers, he’s stood up to and backtalked Matrons, snuck out after curfew, hidden food in his jacket and ate it alone. And yet it’s this that scares him. He doesn’t remember feeling so small, the world feeling so vast.

The dog nudges against his legs, pushing him forward. One foot goes in front of the other and again and again and he’s walking down the road.

Somewhere at the end of this road, there’s his family. Someone is out there waiting for him to come home. He thinks that it’s silly to keep hope alive at this point, eight years and no one has come for him, but he also thinks that years of dreams can’t just be wrong. It all has to lead to something for him. Doesn’t it?

The road leads into another small town that he doesn’t know the name of. People are just getting up to start their day; shops opening, people coming out of houses, full buses crawling down the roads.

At the first house he passes, he sees a mother holding a little boy’s hand, sees a father carrying a girl who looks barely one. All of them smile, the father kisses the little girl and the mother laughs at a bad joke the boy tells her. He has to stop and look at the scene; he’s seen the same thing in book and films, but it’s completely alien to him.

Home, love, family. There must have been a time where he had those things too. When he was found, he was found in an expensive jacket, one that the orphanage sold to keep their bills paid. But whoever got him that coat must have loved him once.

And he’ll never be complete until he finds them.

Lifting the dog in his arms, he continues through the town, gaining speed and confidence with each step until he’s practically running through, dodging in and out of townsfolk and apologising. This road could be leading anywhere, but he’s following it since it’s the only one he has right now. Down towards his future; back to his past. Finally finding out why after so many years; why was he in that alley, why no one came back for him.

As he runs up a hill, he sees it in the distance. The tall spires and bright lights of the Capitol beckoning him. He feels dwarfed by the scene, one he’s only ever seen in posters and drawings. He’s never even set foot in the city before, and yet here he is, standing breathless staring at it, his newly adopted dog still pushing him even now.

Well, if that wasn’t a sign, he doesn’t know what is.

“Please be mine,” he whispers before pushing onwards, running down the hill and towards the tall gates of the city.

Running home, he hopes.

                                                                                               *****

Matteusz knew this was a stupid plan from the get-go. Aside from having terrifyingly slim chances of actually working out, it’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong, and he knows that his friends know it’s wrong. It’s one thing for him to trick people into buying fake gold necklaces or trading cheap watches for extra food. After a few years, he’s come to term with the fact that it’s a necessary evil, and he makes it a policy not to target those who can’t afford to lose anything. It’s another thing entirely for him to attempt to trick someone into thinking she’s reunited with her long-lost grandchild and only surviving relative.

And anyway, it’s not like the auditions to find the boy are going any better.

“Grandmama,” a man clearly in his forties breaths, voice thick and gravely, throwing his heavy fur coat to the side. “It’s me, Charles.”

They four exchange nervous looks. Matteusz can smell the cigarette smoke from his seat. He searches for a way to let him down easily, but Ram beats him to it.

“I don’t think you’re exactly what we’re looking for,” he says. “Next.” The man storms off the stage in a huff, swinging his coat over his shoulder in very unroyal manner; he stumbles on the way off and Matteusz is almost certain he ends up falling headfirst. He never would have worked out. Charles never used “grandmama”. Only “grandmother” or “nana” when he was being extra affectionate.

“Oh brother,” Tanya sighs, placing her head on her arms.

“Still think this plan is brilliant?” Matteusz asks dryly. Tanya responds with a rather inappropriate gesture with her hand.

“Someone will come,” April says, ever the optimist. It’s simultaneously Matteusz’s favourite and least favourite quality about her. “Or maybe we could call one of them? I mean that first guy was good.”

“Was he?” Tanya asks. “How hard can it be to find a 17-year-old boy who looks vaguely like a probably dead prince?” Matteusz wants to respond with ‘evidently very hard’ but holds it back. Partially because Tanya doesn’t need that right now and also because there’s a good chance she’ll smack him for that comment.

The theatre door opening grabs their attention. They’ve set themselves up in what was a theatre that only the richest of the rich could afford. Much of it is still intact, the only real damage being the windows and balcony doors are now smashed and boarded up and it hasn’t been in use in eight years. Everything else was still there; high done shaped ceiling with detailed pictures of angels painted on, rows upon rows of seats with thick, soft red cushions, a high wooden stage, painted gold and protected with thick purple curtains, and a high crystal chandelier. It’s a miracle that it was never harmed.

They turn to the door, worrying that it’s an officer who has heard of their little plan. Fortunately for them, it’s a boy around their age, wearing a green jacket slightly too big for him and a scar wound around his neck. He stops halfway down the aisle, shuffling under their gaze.

“I… I’m looking for Matteusz,” he asks in a small voice, and all three of his friends turn to look at him.

“I’m Matteusz,” he says, standing. The boy creeps closer, and Matteusz can see the small grey puppy nestled in his arms. He’s stroking the dog’s fur rhythmically. Matteusz can recognise a nervous tick when he sees it.

“Um, the word on the street is that you can get someone travel papers,” he says. “Is that true? I’m not supposed to tell you who I heard it from, though.”

“Um…. Yes, it is,” he replied. Up close, he can see the boy’s good looking. A head of floppy but neat blonde hair and a strong looking body underneath his jacket and light blue eyes. Not to mention a nervous, crooked smile that Matteusz could fall for under different circumstances. “But, the thing is….”

“Is that a puppy?” Tanya interrupts, almost squealing. Matteusz is shocked to say the least; Tanya Adeola does not squeal. She just does not. But she runs right up to the boy, eyes glued to the small dog in his arms.

“Do you want to hold him?” he asks, and Tanya nods enthusiastically. He hands her the half-asleep dog, who nestles into her arms with ease. Everyone in the room watches her heart melt.

“He’s so precious,” she whispers, before looking up to their new guest. “Now, you’re looking travel papers?” He nods. “Where are you looking to go?”

“London,” he answers.

“What’s in London?” April asks, perching herself on the table they’d been using for auditions. He shifts, running his hand up and down his leg.

“Um, well, that’s a long story,” he replies.

“Okay well let’s shorten it,” Matteusz says. “What’s your name?”

“Charlie.”

“Don’t have a last name?” Tanya asks, giving little air kisses to the dog.

“Well… that’s the awkward part. I don’t know my last name,” he says. “Or my first name, really. Charlie is just what the Matrons in the orphanage called me.”

“The orphanage?” Matteusz asks. He feels guilty for prying, but you don’t get stories from the orphanage a lot. And he can tell Charlie wants to share.

“Yes. I was found on the street when I was nine years old,” he explains. “And I woke up in the hospital. They asked me where my parents were, what my name was, where I lived. And I couldn’t answer. They said something must have happened to me, shock or assault or something. Said my memories would come back to me but so far there’s nothing. I don’t remember anything before I came there, and they called me Charlie.”

“You were found?” Tanya asks, studying his face. “Do you know when?”

“The night of the revolution,” he answers, visibly trying not to wince. That night brings bad memories back for all of them. “They suspect that whoever my parents were, they were killed.” That hits all of them. There is barely a child in Rhodia who didn’t lose one or both parents that night.

“But you don’t remember it?” April whispers, her hand wrapped tightly round Ram’s. He shakes his head.

“I mean, in my dreams, things come to me. Bits and pieces, dark shadows, a light at the end of a hall,” he explains. “Fire and people screaming. They said it’s normal. PTSD.” No-one says anything, but they all understand. Matteusz has seen Ram break down screaming, woken up himself from nightmares of watching his family be struck down. He shakes his head, a too bright smile on his face. “But I know everything’s going to come back one day.”

“And then what’s with London?” Ram asks in a low voice. His grip on April’s hand is so tight his knuckles are white.

“Um, well…” Charlie blushes and Matteusz tries and fails not to find it adorable. “That’s my dreams again. I dream of a city beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. A clock tower and a river with a bridge and someone tells me they’ll meet me there. That we’ll be together again.” As he talks, he seems to look through them rather than at them, lost in the winding corridors of his mind, before he comes back to reality. “And then I was told to come here, to you, because you have travel papers. Or so they say.”

Matteusz takes a while to realise that Charlie is looking at him, and a little longer for him to realise what to say.

“Um, yes, well, I can get travel papers,” he mumbled. “But…” Getting travel papers isn’t an easy feat. It involves a lot of meetings in back alleys and bribing officials with his dwindling supply of cash that he and his father had earned working in the palace. And with Tanya’s insane plan, he has to fork out for another set of papers, which can take even longer to process.

“Well, we’re on our way to having five sets of papers,” Tanya interrupts. “But the fifth is for him.” The dog still nestled into her right arm, she pulls the folded-up article out of her pocket and showed it to Charlie.

“Prince Charlies?” he asks, his nose wrinkling.

“You see, we plan to reunite the Queen Mother with her grandson,” Tanya explains, cocking her head to the side, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile. “You know, you do sort of look like him.”

“She’s right,” Ram remarks, coming closer to the scene. “You have the Queen’s chin.”

“The King’s nose,” April adds. Charlie keeps looking at the photo, and Matteusz has to agree. He does have a strange, striking resemblance to the Charles. He even had the same eyes. The royal family’s eyes.

“Have you ever considered that you could be... you know?” Tanya asked.

“That I could be royalty?” he asked, half laughing. “Well it’s hard to think highly of yourself when you’re lying on the cold floor at night.”

“Think about it,” April tells him. “You don’t know what happened to you. No-one knows what happened to him. He disappeared the night of the revolution, you don’t remember anything before the revolution.” Matteusz prides himself on not being violent, but he honestly wants to slap April at this point.

“Well,” Charlie says, looking at the picture again. “I mean… I guess every lonely boy would hope he’s a Prince.”

And somewhere, one little boy is Matteusz thinks, and immediately wants to kick himself. Charles is dead. He’s dead, dead, dead. And he’s not coming back. No matter how much he thinks about him.

“Well, we’d love to help, but like we said, the fifth ticket is for Prince Charles,” Tanya says, handing him back the dog. “But good luck and I hope you find what you’re looking for.” She turns him around and nudges him in the direction of the door. She gives him a light shove and he blindly stumbles towards the door, despite the dog’s sounds of protests, while Tanya flounces back to the table.

“What did you do that for?” Ram asks. “Why didn’t you tell him-”

“He only wants to go to London,” Tanya replies, her eyes still on Charlie. “No need to split the money further.”

“We’re walking away too soon,” April hisses. Tanya shakes her head, a proud smile on her face.

“Three, two, one-” she whispers, counting down on her fingers.

“Wait,” Charlie says, running back down to them. His hand is buried in the dog’s fur. “If I don’t know who I really am, then who’s to say I’m not a prince, right?”

“Right,” Tanya agrees.

“And-and if I’m not, then the Queen Mother will know right away, and it was all a misunderstanding,” he continues.

“Either way, you get to London,” Ram replies. Charlie nods, a nervous smile beginning to grace his lips.

“Well, let’s do it,” he says.

“You’re serious?” Tanya asks, almost bouncing. It’s times like this Matteusz remembers she’s only fourteen and is both impressed with her and what she has done to survive and saddened that she has to do it.

“Yes,” he sighs, and it’s final. Tanya goes around introducing them one by one and talking to him about something Matteusz can’t quite hear. His attention is focussed on Charlie, watching as he half-listens to Tanya, half looks at the room around them, frowning slightly. The dog wriggles out of his arms and jumps to the group, nuzzling at Tanya’s legs, darting in and out of the seats. Tanya goes chasing after him, as does April, and Ram watches April, leaving Charlie looking out into the vast row of seats, eyes flickering to the chandelier, the stage mouth moving slightly, whispering something he can’t hear.

Matteusz is only a few feet from him, but Charlie seems to be in another world.

“Are you okay?” he asks eventually.

Charlie jumps at the question, the cloud in his eyes lifting as he looks at Matteusz, pink spreading across his cheeks.

“Fine, fine,” he mumbles. “It’s just…. I have the strangest feeling that I’ve been here before.”

[blorbocedes]

OBSESSED w bratty dauphin pierre and este “why r we here if only to suffer” ban

pls my liege I crave a morsel more of lore

from my DMs to @beparwah96 at 4am, to your dash:

pierre was never meant to be king. youngest, spoiled little prince, off gallivanting getting bitches drinking wine in another kingdom. The king goes crazy — spends too much or starts wars or taxes crazy and the regular people are suffering. His brothers start a rebellion against the king -- and lose. pierre is crowned king. he fully believes in the divine right of kings and that he's entitled to all of it, despite being totally unfit to rule. think nicholas hoult from The Great if you've seen it. he's very, oh why are the poors hungry just let them eat cake.

the rebel faction leaders are to be executed. amongst them, pierre recognises his childhood friend, son of blacksmith, who had dreams of being a royal knight. taller than now, than pierre ever remembers, broader too -- A Man, fit to be a knight, but the telltale buckteeth. a confidence to him despite being so lowborn, looking straight ahead instead of at pierre. pierre halts -- "esteban?" if he had begged for forgiveness in that moment and kissed his feet, pierre would have. pierre likes to think of himself a benevolent ruler. esteban does not do any of that.

pierre pulls him by his hair and says they'll make a example out of their leader.

pierre's very cosmopolitan. he did a summer abroad in Greece, and is very intrigued by Zeus' way of doing things and so:

esteban is made to wear a tunic that covers barely anything and bear pierre's cup at feasts and meetings with dignitaries and whenever pierre needs his cup refilled basically. to show what a loyal ~~pet~~ servant to the crown their once rousing traitor of a leader has become.

the moneyshot:

esteban bending over to pour pierre's wine, and freezing when pierre runs his hand up his bare exposed thigh.