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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 2 years ago

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Demon Knight: Odel

[I plan on making a part 2, I just needed to write something, to begin with!]

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Ad Laetitiam et Pacem

“It is set in ink. I will not hear anymore else of it,” your father, the King declared. “You will marry Lord Meriweather’s son by the arrival of spring.”

Perhaps in the hopes of pleasing your father, you would have heeded to words, to remain dutiful as princess of the realm and make your family proud.

That same night when you heard of your fate, you prepared to dress comfortably in a washerwoman’s ensemble, before slipping out the high window.

To hell with the arrangement, I would rather live a life of celibacy. This fate will not ruin my life.

The third daughter out of six and the eighth out of eleven living children, you had many brothers and sisters older that would be set for better matches from well-known lords and ladies. Yet, you were not put to become queen or to be married off to a wealthy lord, you were assigned to marry a minor lordling, his youngest son feeble and health ailing.

Of all the four sons of Lord Meriweather’s brood, you had to be matched with one with no proper destiny. Hugh was sickly and frail, not a knight or the heir to his father’s land, he was predestined to nothingness, and upon your first meeting with him, you snidely advised he was better suited to abstinence than to displeasing his future wife.

To your dissatisfaction, it had to be you that would be disappointed.

The moonlight acted as your only guide as you run blindly through the streets of the capital. Dead of life with only a few patrolling, you were able to squeeze into dark shadows, ducking and weaving before you found yourself on the outskirts of the capital. Its high, towering walls were manned, but you covered your face with your hood, ducking your head as you run out, away from the life you knew.

The adrenaline pumped swiftly in your chest, and a sense of freedom was overwhelming as the smile broadened on your face, racing your body as fast as you could through the woods.

Months of planning had come underway, and the only place you knew would be deserted; was Whitehaven Hold.

Your other option could’ve been to stay with your older sister, Alinor. Eight years your senior, she was married at eight-and-ten to a well-known and comely lord, giving him babes a year into their marriage.

Father will know I will go to her. You knew it would be a rooky mistake. He knew how much you loved your sister, how you missed her dearly after she was sent away to live the rest of her days in someone else’s castle.

Your older brother, Cassius was four-and-twenty, acting as a scholar in the south, but they did not accept women to the life of academics. No, it would’ve been harder to dress as a man to be accepted into his school.

It was a day or two away, and you spent your nights by a fire, rummaging for food and keeping what stale biscuits you hid in your dress pockets. You lay, wide awake, with no knowledge of where exactly you could go next.

The morning came easily when you arrived at the sight, a smouldering heat and smoke billowing from the mess in front of you.

Whitehaven Hold was a twisted, horrid sight. The battlements for a two-hundred-year war, its walls were burnt and destroyed, the stone had crumpled as it burnt and melted like candles, thousands burning inside. It acts as a haunted sight for travellers, with no Lord or Lady sane enough to reside there.

You entered through the battered doors, cold and damp easily enveloped you as you shuddered, looking around. It had been quickly looted of items by travellers, with not a sight of heirlooms or gold in sight. What remained was tattered and worn furniture, rooms dark and clammy and all the very same.

I’m not staying here before I lose my mind. You thought in disgust, but the thought of residing brought you to chuckle. The Lady of Whitehaven Hold- imagine the look on father’s face. It would not be good to stay a day or two before the cold enters your system and bring the chill quickly. It ached in your chest, not knowing where you could go next. South, always south. Away from it all.

The rooms were simple and easy to roam, a large, broken dining hall, fit for a Lord, wife and many heirs, its kitchen located on the far side. The table was battered and disarrayed, little to nothing scattered that remained of contents of food and dirt. You continued, walking past the cold entrance, up towards what remained of the grand staircase.

Spotting at the very top, are three displays of suits of armour, posing in similar positions. Their hands were positioned to have a greatsword in their hands, but only one remained in the grasp, the one in the middle.

You observed its armour, shinier and similar to molten black obsidian, it gleamed as if recently polished. You flicked your finger across the armour, its armour hummed low as you dragged across its armour to inspect for dirt.

“Hmph, just as I thought. A collectable.” You scoffed, wiping the grime from your finger as you stared up into its helm. The helmet was a beautiful display, gleaming in brilliance, except when you looked into the eyeless sockets of its eyes, something was not supposed to be there.

Eyes staring back. Alit with burning, enraged flames.

“There is little of me that I would class as a collectable,” a low, rumbling voice boomed, startling you rigid. You stepped back, towards the staircase, watching in horror. The talon-like fingers twitched momentarily, before another jolted with life, the whole hand was soon moving with existence.

The suit of armour slowly and lazily tested its movements, its long leg swung forward, groaning and choking as the armour moved. His fiery stare was towards you, raging with anger. “You are not meant to be here. You are trespassing.”

“No one lives here.”

“The Lord of Whitehaven Hold resides here, and I must protect my Lord from all.”

To your surprise, his fingers jerked to grip the hilt of his deadly sword tighter, a flash of silver startled you as he unsheathed the mighty weapon, before you were staggering, sprinting back down the stairs, hearing the squeaks of worn armour following hotly behind.

Leaving through the front door was an easier move, but with adrenaline pumping quickly in your chest. You stumbled and fell, your body kicking to keep moving, to hide, to do anything to get away from the deadly sword.

Something swung just behind you, a scream bubbling over you as his sword got caught into the wall, clinging with a hiss as it hit the wall and avoid taking a chunk out of you. You continued to run, in hopes you could find anywhere to hide, but no matter, the knight was hot on your tail.

You swept around the table, the knight rounding the other side, eyes flaming with the sword ready to swing before something caught his eye, something behind you. His sword lowered as he took in the damaged painting behind you, and you too turned to see what it was he was looking over.

The painting was of no doubt, the old Lord of Whitehaven Hold, yet he had been the first and last during the two-hundred-year war, murdered by conspirators who took over his castle after their coup.

There was a sadness that filled the knight’s eyes, lowering his sword, his entire demeanour changed to become defeated. “He’s gone?” His voice was gravelly and soft.

“He was murdered two-hundred years ago,” you spoke carefully, still gazing periodically towards the silver of his large sword. “There has not been another lord of this Hold since.”

The knight did not answer for a moment, looking at the painting with a solemn gaze that was so vivid without seeing the rest of his face. “Oh,” was the only word he spoke, before he sheathed his sword, marching back and away from the hall, back up towards the stairs.

“Hey, where are you going?” You stared in disbelief, uneasily tailing behind him a few feet. You watched how he climbed the stairs stiffly, moving back towards his display.

“I am no longer needed,” he spoke quietly. “I am free from my pact.”

“Pact from what?”

“The pact grants anyone who rules this hold the protection and my sword.” He moved towards to set himself in his display once more, propping the sword out to rest between his hands once more. You were by the bottom of the stairs, cautiously standing there. “I am no longer needed.”

Your cheeks heated the same way a child would grow in a tantrum. “Well, what if I became the next resident?”

His eyes peered over you, wide and in incredulously. “You’re a mere washerwoman.”

You remembered your clothing, the ones you snuck out in, and you knew you had no way of making him believe you. “Would you believe me if I said I was a Princess—and runaway one?”

He scoffed light-heartedly. “You’re rather funny, aren’t you?”

“I am!” You insisted. “My father is the current King, Cassius XV. My oldest brother is Crown Prince Isolde. My mother, Queen Adora, was forty when she passed, giving birth to my youngest sister, Margarita.” You told him your name, the one you despised using.

He did not answer once again, yet he seemed amused. “Anyone could know that of the current rulers.”

“I can read that,” you pointed towards the small display name, written in the old language of Ald, passed down to royalty and nobles to keep alive. “Would a washerwoman know about the culture and language of Ald? Would a washerwoman even know how to read?”

“Maybe so,” he assessed warily. “What is a princess like yourself doing out here?”

“My father wished to have me married off.”

He inquired amusedly. “You ran away from your betrothal? I don’t think I’ve heard of such a thing before.”

“You don’t know many princesses.” You muttered.

“Perhaps,” he mused. “It is known many Princesses of the past have been fond of comely knights and princes from far lands. It would be their dream to be married off.”

“Hugh Meriweather looks more weasel than man.”

The knight looked perplexed, but he did chuckle at your words. “Weasel, you say? I’m unsure there is some tale of a Princess and a weasel.”

Fairy tales are nightmares in reality. Just stories to keep girls happy. You thought. “It isn’t some fairy tale. I have no say in who I can love.” You huffed, crossing your arms. “That is why I’m here. Running away from the fate destined for me; misery, squeezing out babes and dying from childbed fever. You wouldn’t have to worry about being wedded off, you’re just a piece of talking armour.”

The silence that followed your passing words made you realise that you may have overstepped. You peered over at him, and though his face was shielded, you could tell your words had insulted him.

“You’re talking to a piece of talking armour.” He jeered and your cheeks had rouged once more in embarrassment. “What then, little Princess? You believe your father would not find you here?”

“He can sure try to.” You huffed. “I will not leave here.”

If he had eyebrows, you could be sure he had a face of exasperation. “You think you’ll have protection here?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re here.”

“I’m free from my pact, however.” He recalled.

“What about forming a pact with me? It can’t be that bad.” You said excitedly, too naively to think anything of it. You’ve had knights in service of protecting you your entire life: how different could this be?

“Princess,” his voice was laced with unease. “If you go ahead with this, you will need to sacrifice something of your life.”

Your silence was a tell-tell sign that you were uncertain. Sacrifice something, like what? You thought about the things you had to you: you had no titles to own, no claim to the throne, so you couldn’t give that up (you doubted you would’ve if you did own one). It seemed like an easy deal, yet nothing came to mind for you to give in return, until—

“I shall give you my hand in marriage.”

The knight recoiled almost as if he had been burnt in his ink-black armour, his demeanour changed to seem hesitant, almost incredulous to your offer. “What about Hugh the weasel? You don’t think I’m a married man already?” He asked.

“You wouldn’t be here if you were already married now, would you? You would be with your lady wife.”

He seemed pleased by your words, stepping forth towards you, around the table, before he was standing in front of you. His full height towered easily over you, and you imagined what he looked like without the helmet on him.

“I, swear by my name and honour, to protect and keep you in my stay, for as long as you may live. I am yours, Princess," he says. "I will shield your back and give you my life in the moment of need.”

You easily presented your hand to him to take into his, there was warmth oddly in his armoured fingers, and his obsidian suit of armour hummed and almost felt as if it was burning up on the inside before the knight brought your hand to his lips to place a kiss to your knuckles.

“Arise, sir-“

“Odel. Sir Odel.”

#demon #demon oc #demon boyfriend #demon knight #princess reader #female reader #monster writing #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #demon monster #monster x reader #monster x human #monster lover

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zorlovinghue · 1 month ago

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Novel/Manhwa Recommendations

..... which you might not know exist, already know and read but got no other creature to talk about it, in shambles cuz there's little exposure, know but haven't read yet, don't know and might be interested, and etcetera etcetera.

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Is It Bad That the Main Character's a Roleplayer

You see it right. From the cover and title alone, we know the MC is a chuunibyo with concerning level of emo. He is Demon Knight. Yes, that's what he called, I haven't read far so I'm not sure if the name will be revealed later on.

MC's characterization is, if you know Lee Hoyeol from [The Player Hides His Past], that's exactly him, except he had to do it himself, so the secondhand embarrassment is........ strong—

The setting and world building is great, the fighting scenes is clearly detailed and I especially love that every arc is elaborate. You can see the author put effort in their research and there's plenty of staggering inspiration on how close-combat scenes in specific background could be proceed–if you're an author looking for that exact thing, you can give it a shot and if you're a reader, this is magnificent and brilliantly done!

(The arc in the sea is quite long, there's pirate and stuff too if you're interested *ominous whisper*)

Poor guy wants to come back but have to be hero first. This give a new perspective on how transmigration story with MC who got normal (yes) background and family he cherished will become, the emotional tones is particularly deep for this one but the action did a wonderful job in balancing things out.

I was Mistaken as a Monstrous Genius Actor (adapted to manhwa)

You may be aware that I've been into this lately... And yeah I'm gonna babbling about this more.

MC's name is Kang Woojin. His parents still alive, he got a younger sister and three best buddies. All alive! Wow, no one's dead. This is not a transmigration, regression or reincarnation story either. I'm pleasantly surprised, which is ironic in and of itself.

He got a power that allowed him to enter the world of the script and live as the character he chooses to act on, both a blessing and a curse. Since most of them are dead in the end so he died multiple times too. His power gives proper carrot and whips, meaning although it was dizzying he was able to take a rest too, no fainting accident even if he's overworked to death.... So far! I'm nearing 300ish chapter and the novel had finished with 480 chapter, highly likely won't be any fainting accident.

What I love about this story is that the pacing is fast yet precise. Date, month, year... Name of the day and time, contrary to my initial fear of having this tedious, it's actually really helpful to have a fxcking crystal clear timeline! In Korean novel at that!

This is misunderstanding-based story, like the author directly and straight up telling the reader that

Is the main focus.

This story have more comedy, so although the story itself have emotional tones sometimes, it is less pronounced when it comes to the MC himself (the characters he acted on got better treatment bruh)– which can be either good or bad depending on your tastes, but if you prefer action more like me then this is actually a good thing. And, this is a novel where I can perfectly say that it utilizes sensory perceptions more than 'poetic' description, incredible for that!

Another thing, a sensitive one and I braced myself for this, is that the novel actually friendly. Vietnam, Japan, Hollywood... And French later on (i haven't reach that point yet). MC going abroad like he was taking casual stroll is everything. The 'passion' and 'competitive' spirit is the tamest and calmest I have ever found. You can clearly, clearly see the author did it as minimally as possible and overtime cleverly utilize the flow so the relationship between the countries is now welcoming, not just tolerated. The amount of scarcity for this is enough to warrant acknowledgement.

The Player Hides His Past (adapted to manhwa)

Lee Hoyeol here...! Been a while since I read the novel so I apologize in advance.

This is game-turn-reality story, you might already know from the title so I just want to say that one more time.

His character's name is Grandfell Claudi Arpheus Romeo, which he created on his early teens, another chuunibyo here. The story's world-building is great, the exploration of each arc is immersive and I love the emotional tones was clearly conveyed when it's due. It did a good job in adding depth and actually fleshed out the characters' existence excellently.

The fighting scenes, the strategies, and the executions are all great! It was amazing that even though the world building was quite complex it turned out brilliantly, so the dissonance is little to nothing and you can vividly portrayed the world of the characters.

Oh and, he is another MC with complete family. Goodness gracious, he's the youngest out of four siblings and have a niece too! It's the adorable part that I absolutely adore.

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#thats all for now #lest it be too long #self indulgent #self indulgent post #novel recommendation #manhwa recommendation #i was mistaken as a monstrous genius #kang woojin #the player hides his past #lee hoyeol #grandfell claudie arpheus romeo #is it bad that the main characters a roleplayer #demon knight #might do a pt 2 if im feeling like it #oh and these three have a strong misunderstanding troupes #so actually three people who is similar yet distinctly different

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