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kqutie · 3 months ago

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THE PRINCESS' SEVEN MERCENARIES

CHAPTER ONE : A SWIFT ESCAPE

relations. : cevans various/reader -- steve rogers/reader ; curtis everett/reader ; ari levinson/reader ; lloyd hansen/reader ; andy barber/reader ; jake jensen/reader ; ransom drysdale/reader

chpt. sum. : your stepmother wants you dead but you're able to make a swift escape with the help of the huntsman who was meant to kill you. into the woods you go in search of a new and better life!

tags. : mentions of an assassination attempt ; evil stepmothers being evil ; evil queen being evil ; disney princess reader ; snow white and the seven dwarves au ; fairy tale au ; fluff ; domestic fluff in-coming! ; disney princess reader and her seven sexy mercenaries hehe~

length. : 4.6k

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You were right to be suspicious from the very beginning. Ever since your father's honourable death in battle, you had been treated as lower than dirt by your stepmother. She was more than eager to be crowned the new queen of the kingdom and did her best to wipe your existence from the minds of all the people you were supposed to rule one day. Still quite young at the time, you didn't realise her manipulative ways. And you were none the wiser to her malicious intent.

The signs were obvious, every time you met her eyes, the distaste and displeasure were swimming in her narrowed sight, clear as the diamonds in her opulent crown. For quite a long time, you tried to hold out hope that she'd, one day, realise your sincerity, and your genuine want to become a good ruler. All in the hopes that your deceased father would smile at you, proud of your benevolent ruling as rightful queen. But that was your biggest fault. The virtuous desire she saw in your eyes only made her rage, aversion, and fear towards you grow by the day.

It was for her own comfort and self-assurance that you were subjected to live like a servant, dress like a servant, and be treated like a servant, within castle walls, never to be seen by your people again.

Only the palace servants were allowed to interact with you, yet, they were also under strict supervision to act ignorant of their princess' obvious mistreatment. It wasn't any use, however; your kindness, strength, and sincerity, even at such a young age, had all the palace staff turning a blind eye. Whenever the queen commanded that you be mistreated, or dealt with worse than the stable keepers of the royal horses, they offered their help. Even the guards, who had to report back to the Queen, happily turned in falsified reports in the hopes that your upbringing became more auspicious.

For years, you were treated like a servant under the Queen's, your stepmother's, command to which you readily obliged. The mistreatment, the obvious jealousy she holds for you, the insensitivity you had to suffer, all of it was tolerable because of the wonderful staff surrounding you. You also knew that one day, your justice will be fulfilled. You had already passed your coming of age but you weren't deterred. It's malevolent but, as long as you were able to see the lingering hatred in your stepmother's eyes, no matter how few those instances were, you know that there will be hope for a better future. Through her fears, you will be able to rise and take back what was truly yours from the very beginning – your right to rule.

But now... now you don't know what to think.

"Sir Remfrey," you call, following the huntsman further into the clearing on the outskirts of your kingdom. It was a beautiful meadow dotted with the prettiest wildflowers you had ever seen but the trepidation in your thundering heart wouldn't allow you to relax. The huntsman you had grown up to view as a beloved, close relative, doesn't respond. He doesn't even spare you a glance — but he can't allow you to witness the obvious conflict in his eyes. He was determined to let you go but when he stares into the dense forest before him, he worries for the life of his princess, the true ruler of the kingdom he so loved.

"Princess..." the huntsman finally stops just at the boundary of the forest. In a moment reigned by taught nerves, Remfrey tightens his hold on the basket full of food, spare clothing, and other useful supplies for your safe escape. "I am meant to kill you today by order of the Queen,"

Even though you shouldn’t have been surprised, a startled gasp still escaped your parted lips. For a long time, you've been conscious of your stepmother's paramount dislike of you, but never took her for someone who would command that you be killed.

Words fail you and your hands begin to shake as you hug yourself for comfort. It's a morbid thought but at least you were finally given some new clothes before your death — the only silver lining you could think of in such a dire situation. The fabric of your new A-line dress is soft but durable, its length protecting you from the occasional breeze, down until your mid-calf. This morning when you were presented with it along with a thick and cosy, cable knit cardigan, you were elated. It's been years since you were presented with new casual clothes and, upon their presentation, a spark of hope lit up your eyes... that is, until Sir Remfrey came to escort you to an unknown location for a surprise outing by order of the Queen. You weren't stupid but were, nonetheless, stupid enough to follow her ambiguous orders.

"Sir Remfrey please–"

"But I will not do that," the seasoned hunter, the bulky, tall, alpha-presenting man, faces you with tearful eyes, his knees dropping to the grassy ground as he urges you to hold onto the wicker basket he had brought along, "I'm letting you go here, my princess, and I will handle the rest. You must run and never look back; today you really did die so please..." he begs with a quivering voice, touching his forehead to the back of your hand, "please start a new and better life, one that is full of happiness, one that you deserve,"

With tears in your eyes, you embrace the huntsman tenderly, your arms unable to fully circle his broad shoulders, "what will you do? I know she is evil and if she finds you have disobeyed, Sir Remfrey, your family—"

"Will be alright," he reassures in the same whisper you had used to express your concern. Even when knowing your mournful fate, you still thought of him and his family – you are truly a better ruler, a better person, than the Queen could ever be, "I plan on returning with a wild hog's heart as evidence instead," he pulls away to smile at you, patting your head affectionately as he had always done, viewing you as the third daughter he never had, "and I plan on leaving the kingdom with my family soon after, you need not worry about me or anyone else, just yourself,"

He warns you of the dangers the forest presents but it is still a safer haven than the palace. No matter how well-decorated the grand structure may be, at least in the forest, you remain alive. He also lists off the necessities kept hidden in the basket: spare clothes, enough food for a week and some spare gold coins that the staff managed to scrap together as well as 'borrow' from the treasury (with the help of the palace accountant). Everyone at the castle, except the Queen, knew of the plan today and had worked together to keep you safe and give you another, better chance at life. It touched your heart so much that, despite the dismal circumstance, your eyes filled with tears of joy.

So as you traverse over the forest floor, Sir Remfrey's words echo in your head: keep running and don't look back! Create and live a better life!

It broke your heart to be leaving your kingdom and your people like this but... what can you do? A part of you feels guilty for not acting sooner and for allowing things to get this far but another part tempers your self-accusation gently. You were only a child. You had every right to feel guilt over this but the only thing you can and should do is look forward. You haven't yet fully escaped the Queen and you wouldn't dare endanger Sir Remfrey's life after all that he has done for you despite also putting his family in danger.

Keep running!

Don't look back!

Keep running!

Don't look back!

Keep running!

Don't look back!

The sun crawls slowly above you as your feet become heavier and heavier, it's come to the point where you're beginning to drag your shoes along the dirty forest floor and have come dangerously close to tumbling over several times. Thankfully, the trees were there to save your fall, their trunks and branches provided a sturdy foundation to rely on amid your toppling form.

Your throat feels like sandpaper but you resist reaching into the basket for the bottle of milk stored deep inside; you don't know how long it'll take to find a village that you could reside in without a beaten path to lead you the way, so your endurance was being put to the test. It all seems hopeless but you don't want the efforts of the kind palace staff to go to waste, they've sacrificed so much for you, you wouldn't dare put their efforts in vain. Magic items were a privilege of high society, rich nobles, and powerful organisations, only very few knew what was in the Queen's full magical arsenal so you needed to get away as far as possible and quickly!

Just a little longer you think to yourself, pushing forward with a new determination.

Multiple trees pass you by, their trunks and low branches offering support for the hazard that was their knobbly roots. Time no longer was a factor of thought, instead, it was the throbbing in your downtrodden ankles and the ache in the arches of your feet, how long have you been travelling like this? At this point, walking without shoes was an incredibly enticing idea. The dragging of your feet weighs down your sore, hopeless heart and you're soon having to suppress a sob.

But just as all hope escapes you, the distant sound of a running river raises your spirits. Pulled forward by the steady stream, you eventually break through the forest boundary to rest at the river bank. The water was crystal clear and glittering with the early afternoon sun. You wasted no time in leaning down for a drink and, once you had satiated your thirst, you carefully dipped in your naked feet and sighed in the relief that the cool water brings. The tenderness of your arches and ankles was quickly swept away with the water. It was a blissful reprieve that you took full advantage of.

Reaching into the basket, you pull out a small collection of fruit and nuts to snack on before withdrawing a more filling sandwich. The staff had been incredibly generous. They had given you a full pouch of gold coins, food, clothes, and a charmed wicker basket to hold it all in — the internal storage of the modest accessory was endless but it remained the same weight no matter how much you filled it up. It was a rather expensive item that could only be afforded by nobles and royalty who would sooner gift the basket to their staff for use in picnic outings and the like. It was quite handy to have while you worked about the castle along with the rest of the palace staff.

As much as you would have liked to remain sitting at the river bank with your feet dipped in its cool, racing waters, you still had to keep moving forward. For now, you opted for following the river in the hopes that you'd eventually be led to a nearby town as most tended to revolve around freshwater sources. Happily, you dabbed on some of Alma's homemade peppermint and lavender essential oil, stowed in a small glass bottle within the basket. You think fondly of the time you spent making homemade remedies, teas, powders, and all sorts with the elderly palace herbalist, wife of the gardener. They were a lovely couple who taught you everything you know along with many other individuals about the palace staff. One of the most useful things Alma taught you is that peppermint and lavender were deeply despised by bugs and pests, so to save yourself of any troubling bites, you dabbed on the oil generously. Another benefit was the beautiful fragrance helped mask the stench of sweat on your brow.

Refreshed and less panicked, you continue on your new path by the river. You expected another long journey ahead but soon came across a beautiful cottage that stood in a clearing on the other side of the running water. Thankfully a humble wooden bridge was there to help you cross the river. Circling the cottage, you recognise several raised beds full of carefully grown produce, it was the start of an expansive and impressive garden that stretches all around the cottage's perimeter. The cosy structure looked well-kept and huge with many windows and levels, you wonder how many rooms such an isolated cottage could have and for what reason. Nevertheless, this was the first sign of life on your journey and you were eager for shelter and, perhaps, some directions too.

Patting down your dress and sweater for any lingering dust or dirt, you took a breath and steadily made your way to the front door. It was certainly a property that needed admiring so you wondered why it was so remotely placed. You didn't let such thoughts linger for too long, however – perhaps the home owner/s liked their privacy. Stepping up to the heavy front door of the property, you quickly knock before you get the chance to lose all confidence.

No answer.

You gave a secondary knock and even a third knock but there was still no answer. Is nobody home? You ponder thoughtfully.

"Hello?" You call out, somewhat, hesitantly but still receive nothing. It wasn't in your nature to intrude but you really needed a place to stay, just for the night. You'll promise to leave in the early morning, provided that they offer you some helpful directions. Instead of knocking again, you try the doorknob and find no resistance. The wooden door happily invites you into the cottage’s front room.

The space inside was dark and bedraggled. Unused surfaces were covered in dust and a pile of dirty laundry took up a corner space. You couldn't believe that such a sparse interior could be made so messy. Organised chaos was your best attempt at describing the spaces you walked through. Silas (the palace cook) would have lost his mind at the sight of the kitchen and Frances (the head maid) would have fainted from the unclean environment. The air reeked of countering alpha scents too; you managed to pick up seven distinct aromas and swallowed nervously. As an omega, you were heavily encouraged to avoid all alpha-dominated spaces but didn't have much of a choice at this moment. At least the cottage seemed to be empty for now. Not only that but in this modern world, everybody is equipped with their individual, second-gender suppressor accessory – it’s standard for the safety of all people. If the homeowner was civilised, you're sure they would never go out without theirs; you never even took yours off, and most people didn’t.

"No one seems to be home..." you whisper to yourself, gnawing at your bottom lip in thought, "and I've been very rude for intruding like this..." Observing the space around you once more, you wonder how you could somehow mitigate the owner's negative reaction to your trespassing, "maybe if I clean up a bit, they'll forgive me for barging in like this," with your optimistic thought, you got set to work, "I can do their laundry too and…" you eye their kitchen space, "maybe if I make them something special to eat, they won't be so angry," giggling to yourself somewhat, you remember Silas' knowledgeable words 'nobody could eat a delicious meal and stay angry or sad'. He often used that to get back into his wife’s good graces and it seemed to work flawlessly, every single time — hopefully, you can do the same in this instance.

First things first: a general clean up of the area was urgently needed. However, you also had to open every window nearby; the amount of dust and dirt your movements lifted into the air was suffocating. You remain on the ground floor where most of the community rooms are located such as the living area, kitchen/dining room, and a large farmhouse-style conservatory, which stretches into the back garden.

The living area and dining area didn't take too much time, it only needed a little reorganising and dusting. The kitchen took a little more out of you so you took a quick break, where you leisurely got the laundry settled. Thankfully, the conservatory was equipped with an enchanted washing apparatus that you were used to operating from the palace. It was peculiar to find in such a humble setting but you didn't know the full background of the homeowner so you didn't question too much.

Little by little, the once unclean space became decent again. But it was missing something… something homey. Before getting started with dinner preparations, you fetched a newly cleaned glass vase from one of the many cupboards you were able to neatly organise and went out to collect some beautifully blossomed flowers to present at the dining table. You managed to arrange a pretty bouquet featuring bright purple and indigo blossoms, eucalyptus sprigs, bunches of dainty white florets and other miscellaneous greenery. Happy with the floral decoration, you turn your full attention to food preparations.

Some minutes into food prep, the laundry washer was finished and you went to hang the freshly washed clothes up to dry on the washing line. It was helpful that you were able to keep your eye on the laundry through the window above the sink, looking into the conservatory space, which overlooked the back gardens. The interior design was very open and spacious, where, even if you were in one room, you were still able to peek into several others without much effort — you quite liked it; everything was connected but still had its own place.

Getting stuck doing the chores was familiar. The tasks were comforting as they brought to mind the many friendly faces of the palace staff. They helped raise you, provided tutelage on their specialised skills and ensured that you didn't miss out on the vital education all princesses were entitled to, all behind the tyrannical Queen’s back. Silas the chef de cuisine, Frances the head maid, Henry the head butler, Ernest and Abigail the royal librarians, Alma the herbalist and her husband Otis the gardener, Amos the accountant, Cecelia the palace doctor and her assistant Victor, the brother of Violet who was the royal bookkeeper, Hansen, the royal guard and his friends, Abraham the palace mage and so many more amazing people. You miss them all so much, your found family amongst all the hardship you were forced to face by order of the Queen. In your heart, you know that without their help and kindness, you wouldn't have had the courage to be kind anymore. These chores connect you back to them, in a way, and you are happy to swim in the remembrance and familiarity while putting the skills they've taught you to good use.

Despite the original grim state of the cottage, their enchanted cool storage was supplied generously and ran as smoothly as the walk-in cooler of the palace. There was some space for the milk, cheese, and other perishable food items stowed in your charmed wicker basket so you happily stowed those away first before setting out ingredients for the hearty dinner you had planned.

Slow-cooked, tender beef stew with fresh bread rolls and, for dessert, some easy banana bread with chocolate chips and whipped cream. Considering the clothes sizes you had laundered earlier, you assume that whoever lived here needed to be fed an above-average amount — a challenge you were happy to step up to.

Excited to put your cooking skills to the test, you get started with assembling the bread dough so that it has time to proof under the remaining daylight. After that, you quickly went about prepping the many vegetables needed for the stew before finally getting started on searing the meaty beef chuck you found, carefully wrapped in butcher's paper. Some of the seasonings you couldn't quite reach as the cupboards were rather high up so you had to climb onto the kitchen counters at some points. Nevertheless, the domestic, calm scene had you humming a simple tune, imagining Silas observing your progress from over your shoulder and smiling to himself with fulfilment – he always took such pride in teaching you well on navigating the kitchen, from sharpening knives and keeping a tidy space, to maintaining inventory and memorising a range of different recipes to fit any and every occasion.

While the beef stew was simmering over a steady, slow fire, you got to finishing up your bread rolls and finally tossed them into the oven, where you eventually got started on the banana bread and whipping cream. It was a shame that the kitchen space was barely utilised despite the impressive charmed appliances available for use. The homeowner's kitchen space was also incredibly big and it came with two beautiful ovens, meaning that you could cook the bread rolls and chocolatey banana bread at the same time — it was a home cook's dream cooking space. The only conclusion was that the homeowner wasn't suited for cooking but you were happy to fill in that scarcity, especially if it made them less mad at you for intruding…

Wiping the thought from your head, you allowed the delicious aroma to fill the kitchen while you went to collect the newly dried laundry and placed the piles in the conservatory space, ready to be folded neatly. It was a little unfortunate that you couldn't extend your labour to the upstairs spaces but you've infringed on the homeowner's space enough; you don't think a simple cleaning or a hearty meal could convince anyone to remain calm if they found that their private bedroom space was also carelessly invaded.

Everything was going well and you're positive you would make a good first impression. If you were determined enough, you're sure the homeowner would be willing to overlook your trespassing on their property. Hopefully, they'll also be convinced to let you stay the night and offer you some directions to leave for the following morning; you've already intruded enough, you couldn't possibly ask for extended shelter too... although it would be very much appreciated on your part.

Yawning softly, you take out the bread rolls and place them on a wire rack to cool, waiting a little longer to do the same for the chocolatey banana bread. On occasion, you would check on the bubbling beef stew over the small fire, but the longer you cook it, the better the flavour and the more tender the meat becomes, so you weren't too worried. The only time you added to the pot was when you felt as though the broth had gotten too low and needed replenishing.

"It should be ready in another hour or so," you murmur to yourself as you cover the pot once more and clean up the kitchen space as you go. You push yourself to finish ironing and folding the laundry in the conservatory before finally admitting to your tiredness. Allowing the fatigue to consume your figure, you settle yourself in the living room and curl up on the large sofa. With the throw blanket covering you, one of the sofa cushions supporting your head and the other hugged to your chest, sleep found you easily. In your dreams, you imagine being warmly accepted by the mysterious homeowner, who eventually helps you on your way to a quaint little village that you happily settle into and start a new life in.

"Captain!" Jake fumbles his way towards Steve. The morning had been a rush and flurry of activity as the group found a potential lead but was met with yet another dead end and returned back to square one. Now, as they make their way back to their temporary home, a complimentary asset that came with their year-long mission, Jake was finally able to check on their security system but panicked as soon as he saw the breach alert.

"What is it, Jake?" Steve sighs and carefully massages his temples. Four months into their mission and they have yet to make much progress at all. Things were optimistic in the beginning but time was running out quicker than he expected. As the captain, he often has to remind himself to be patient but it's hard to get a bird's eye view of things when you're in the thick of it.

"There was a breach at the cottage!"

"What?!" Lloyd snaps with Ransom close behind him. It's been years since they've had a stable home space and now it's been broken into?! This was the one clause in the contract they were adamant about for the ounce of stability it provided on their normally volatile profession; they refuse to have such an invaluable property taken away before its agreed-upon time!

"I thought you said that barrier made the cottage invisible to everyone but us!" Ransom barks with barely restrained outrage, adding to Steve's headache but the philanderer doesn't pay his captain's chilling glare any attention.

"Yes—!" Jake huffs from confusion and astonishment at the bewildering facts before him, "But because the cottage is also very isolated, it's not as high-level a barrier as it could be so high-affinity magic users can see right through it and possibly even break through,"

His explanation further angers the two main antagonists of the alarming news but, ever the mediator, Ari steps up with a calming air, "We're almost home so we can take care of things soon enough," Steve gives the mechanic of the group a grateful smile. Yes, the circumstance, after such an exhausting day, wasn't ideal but he will always appreciate additional help when taming the two wild cats of their mercenary group.

Seeing their home just ahead, Ransom and Lloyd begin to rush forward but are immediately stopped by Curtis' unyielding limbs. With a grunt, the silent surveyor and guard forces them back in warning.

"We don't know who's inside but from what Jake said it's a high-affinity magic user," Steve scolds deeply in a hushed whisper, "we can't just rush in blindly,"

The group look at their homey cottage and observe all signs of activity within. Some windows were left open with the curtains drawn, a soft golden light emits from inside and the small chimney positioned by the kitchen is billowing with smoke. It's obvious that someone else had made themselves at home in the mercenary group's absence.

"That's strange," Andy admits, seeming to have read Steve's mind as the two turn to lock eyes.

"Doesn't seem like the intruder is looking to ambush us," Steve completes their shared thought, "but that still doesn't mean they can't harm us so stay on your guard," Steve directs the group to opposite entry points about the cottage. This improves their chances of surprising their intruder as well as covering more ground. They reconnect their earpieces before setting forth on their stealth positions about the cottage; naturally, Steve separates Lloyd and Ransom to avoid their troubling behaviour together.

"Ari, Ransom, and Jake go in from the back. Curtis, Andy, Lloyd, and I will head in from the front," Steve eyes Curtis and Lloyd, "you two split off to search the upstairs while Andy and I head through to the kitchen. If we can, we’ll regroup there," with an affirming nod from all parties, they split up and take their positions accordingly.

navi. | series masterlist | two. a fateful meeting →

a/n : this is just the beginning but i hope you darlings enjoy the series so far! please comment, like, reblog and tell me what you think, i'd really appreciate it! — bit of a bad time posting this on kinktober but we move haha!

p.s this is my first time writing for these sexy men so please go easy on me and my characterisation of them (ó﹏ò。)

#ransom drysdale x reader #steve rogers x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #ari levinson x reader #curtis everett x reader #jake jensen x reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber #steve rogers #ari levinson #curtis everett #lloyd hansen #jake jensen #chris evans characters #chris evans characters x reader #fairy tale au #snow white au #fluff

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 8 months ago

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Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons Chapter 1

Here's the new story! I hope y'all like it.

Summary: Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of. A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has. Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way? Viking!Bucky Warnings: eventual smut, abuse, violence, animal attack, blood

Next chapter

The New Year was upon them. The castle was bustling with maids and squires decorating and scrambling to get everything ready in time. The halls were filled up with garlands, pinecones, dried oranges, berries, and candles lit every ten feet. A large tree had been hauled into the great hall during Christmas Time and decorated with the same oranges, berries and pinecones, as well as ornamental pieces that shone through the branches in the candlelight. The last seasonal ball was to be held in a few days time, and the noble families from all over the Isles had traveled in to be part of the festivities.

Princess Y/N watched the chaos in boredom as her little brother Prince Alfred, or Alfie, ran around the room with a stream of ribbon in hand, singing holiday songs at the top of his lungs. As much as she loved and adored him their age difference was definitely apparent during these moments. “I watched three ships come sailing in on Christmas day on Christmas day…”

“Alfie if you sing that wretched song one more time I will–”

“You will do nothing,” her mother, Queen Eugenia interrupted as she walked into the great hall to inspect the decorations. “After all these years of training, you still resort to violence, you ridiculous child.”

“And you still call me a child when I near my thirtieth year, Mother,” Y/N spat back. “Perhaps my penchant for violence comes from my frustration with said training and the constant degradation of my age and ability.”

“Your petulance and independence has made you unmarriable and therefore a thorn in my side,” Eugenia sighed.

“There have been no, as you and Father called them, “suitable” suitors to marry me off to, Mother. And this,” she held out her hand, opening her palm, wherein a green orb of light appeared, “scares you both to death.”

“Put your hand away!” Eugenia ran over and slapped Y/N’s hand down before anyone could see. “Stop being so careless!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sat next to her. “You will attend tonight’s ball, dressed appropriately, with a smile on your ungrateful face and nothing but patient, polite mannerisms escaping that mouth of yours. And you will not play tricks,” she looked pointedly at Y/N’s hands.

Y/N glared at her. “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sighed again. “Go get ready.”

Y/N left the great hall as Alfie continued singing away. Her lady’s maid followed her as she roamed the halls towards her room. The only ones who knew about her ability were her family, the royal advisory court and her lady’s maid. No one had been able to figure out what to do with it. She didn’t have a handle on it, either. She could manipulate objects and people’s bodies to move how she wanted, heal minor injuries, and when touching someone she was able to see their thoughts and feel their feelings. She could feel that there was something more to it, that her power had the potential to grow, and yet she and her ability had been tamped down so heavily from the moment she first started exhibiting it that she was unable to truly hone it and see what she was capable of. The advisors had researched their history and fairy tale books extensively and could not find a rhyme or reason as to why she had this power. The only reason she had not been burned at the stake as a witch was because her father thought it could be useful to him and his never ending battle against the Norsemen.

Y/N had only seen one Norseman in her entire life. Her father had captured one after a horrible battle and brought him back from the battlefield. He was what they called a Berserker, a Norseman warrior that would lose all sense of self-preservation and run into battle like a feral animal, like they were out of their minds and drunk with bloodlust. Her father had put them in a room together, separated by a line of thin prison bars. The Norseman didn’t try to attack her, just watched her intently. Her father told her to try her powers on him, see what she could make him do. Y/N had refused, so her father flogged her to try and make her submit. The Norseman had become so incensed by her father’s mistreatment that he had broken through the bars, bending them like they were butter, and just as he was about to lay his hands on her father she threw her hands up. The Norseman was encircled in the green light, stopping him midair. Her father gave the first genuine smile towards her she had seen in years.

The guards had shackled him and took him away shortly after that. The look in his eyes as they dragged him away was one of shock and betrayal. Y/N couldn’t stand it, and that night snuck through the castle to the dungeon. She had found secret passages as a child that she used regularly, and slipped through undetected. She stole the keys and found his cell. He was awake, and when he heard the jingle of the keys he looked up at her. His eyes widened and he scurried towards the farthest wall from her.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Y/N had whispered, holding her hands up. He watched her carefully as she unlocked the door and swung it open. She had stepped away, giving him room to leave. He had slowly walked out of the cell, watching her constantly. He stepped away towards the nearest exiting door. “Run,” she whispered as she backed away from him, keeping her hands up.

He stopped for a moment. He cleared his throat and asked in perfect English, “Are you a witch?”

Y/N had blinked at him in surprise. “I…I don’t know,” she answered honestly. This man could kill her in a second without making a sound, and yet he merely nodded. “Thank you, Drottning,” he bowed his head to her then ran off towards the door.

Y/N had never seen or heard from him again. The castle had been abuzz with confusion and fear upon finding him missing the next morning, but they ultimately decided that the barbarian had his ways and wasn’t worth pursuing.

Y/N had never trusted her father again after that day, and had steered clear of him whenever and however she could. He only wanted her for her power and what it could do for him. He didn’t love her, he didn’t love Alfie. He was a true English King, hoarding power and wealth wherever he could.

Y/N dressed in her holiday best for the ball and begrudgingly entered the great hall later that night. The party was in full swing, nobles dancing together as the music played, the King and Queen laughing madly at the jester performing in front of them. The wine was flowing, making the crowd more rowdy by the second. As Y/N ascended the stage where the King and Queen sat she saw two short legs poking out and found Alfie hiding behind the Queen’s wide throne chair. She quickly walked over and pulled him into her arms. “What are you doing here, Alfie? It’s late, and this is no place for a young boy,” she scolded him.

“Papa said I had to be here, because I’m to be king, and this is what kings do,” he mumbled. Y/N glared over at her father, who was drinking himself into a stupor. Alfie was a mere 11 years old, and already her father was trying to sink his dirty claws into the little boy’s mind and heart.

“No, Alfie, this is not how kings should act,” Y/N reassured him as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a whistling as wind whipped through the hall from where the front doors burst open. A thunderous roar from what seemed like hundreds of men swarming the hall filled the room, echoing through the high ceilings and making Alfie cover his ears. Y/N held him close as she huddled behind the throne, concealing him and herself as best as possible. There were shouts and screams from the nobles as the men started to cut many of them down, pushing and beating others as they made their way to the stage.

The King and Queen sat in shocked silence as they watched their guards and nobles die or be captured around them. Y/N glanced around looking for an escape and saw men standing in the higher windows, pointing arrows at the royals. She knew they were seen and so any attempt to run would be met with death.

Heavy footsteps walked up the stage steps, and before she could even move large hands were hefting her and Alfie from behind the chair. They ripped Alfie from her arms and she screamed, trying to get ahold of him again as he cried and tried to grab for her. Y/N’s body was wrenched around and she came face to face with a familiar looking man.

“Hello, Drottning, remember me?” the Norseman from years earlier smiled at her.

“You!” Y/N breathed as her eyes widened.

The Norseman chuckled as he led her to the front of the stage to stand next to her Mother and Father who sat dumbfounded on their thrones, Alfie on the other side of them being held back by another man. Y/N looked around and even through her fear was struck by the attractive nature of these men. Most of them were spattered in blood and sweat from fighting, and yet she had never seen so many handsome men. The yelling started to die down as one Norseman walked forward, assumedly the leader, the rest of them parting to let him through. The one approaching her and her family was easily one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. His long, dark brown hair was half tied back with braids that had ornaments of beads and metal cuffs attached to them. His full beard was cut neatly and framed his pink lips, which were stretched into a menacing smirk. His blue eyes shone bright like the ocean just after a storm, and she could see the mischievous glint in them as he scanned the family. He was covered in Norse battle gear from just under his jaw to his feet, a large sheathed sword on his right side and a war hammer at his left. His left arm was bare, and upon further inspection Y/N realized it wasn’t flesh, but some kind of metal, yet it looked and functioned like a normal arm. He was huge, like all the other men, tall and broad. His eyes settled on her and he appraised her, giving her a long look up and down. Y/N straightened herself under his stare, refusing to bow or show weakness to him. His smirk deepened at her as he looked back at her parents.

“King Henry, Queen Eugenia,” he greeted them in a deep, booming voice. “I am James Barnes, Jarl of the Danes, or Norsemen as you like to call us.” He nonchalantly took a half eaten pastry off the table closest to him and popped it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. “What a lovely party. We missed our invitation,” he said with a sly smile, making his men laugh heartily around him.

Henry just couldn’t help himself as he stood up. “You aren’t wanted, heathens! Leave immediately!”

“Now now, Henry, is that any way to speak to the ones who have conquered you?” James admonished him. “I’ve come to make peace, and you want to scream insults?”

Y/N silently gasped. Peace? With the Norsemen?

“Make peace? While you murder my nobles and threaten my family? That’s preposterous,” Henry scoffed. Y/N glared at her father, silently wishing for him to shut up.

“Well you could either choose peace, or watch the rest of your nobles and your family die, starting with your heir,” James threatened, glancing at Alfie. Y/N squirmed against the Norseman behind her at the threat. “And we’ll make some stops along the way to some of your most prosperous cities and take what we need. The choice is yours.”

“That’s no choice!” Henry yelled and then started to move towards James. “You wretched, barbaric–”

A whistle sounded through the hall as an arrow was loosed. It flew straight towards Alfie’s chest. Y/N’s hand yanked out of the Norseman’s hand that was holding her and stretched toward her brother as she screamed, “NO!”

The arrow stopped, hovering right in front of Alfie’s heart, surrounded by the green light. The men gasped, James staring at Y/N with an awestruck smile on his face. “So it’s true,” he whispered. Y/N flicked her wrist and the arrow went flying towards the wall and shattered. Before she could even drop her hand James was in front of her. He looked at the Norseman holding her back and nodded to him. “Thor, is this the English witch of royal blood who freed you?”

The man behind her nodded and lightly shoved her into his arms. James held her by her arms and looked down at her. “What’s your name, Princess?”

Y/N could only stare at his bright blue eyes, her heart hammering in her chest at exposing herself and her ability. “Y/N,” she whispered.

“Y/N,” he repeated it like it was a prayer. “I’ve been talking to the wrong person.” He pulled her forward to face her family. “Henry, you’ve been hiding something,” he chuckled as he plopped his chin on her shoulder so they were cheek to cheek and ran his fingers up and down her arms, the metal ones sending chills up her spine. “She’s the one with power, not you.” Henry glared at her, a hateful look on his face. “Oh, I see,” James’ voice became sharper. “You feel threatened by her, so you’ve hid her away, stomped on her potential to grow,” Y/N was nearly shaking as she felt the adrenaline rush through her. “She’s a goddess among you pathetic royals,” he kissed the side of her head, “and you wanted to reduce her to a torture device. You let the magic go to waste.” He turned her towards him again and dipped his face to be at eye level with her. “We have magic at home. We can help you learn and grow,” Y/N’s eyes widened at him. “So I ask you, Princess Y/N. What do you choose, death or peace?”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath as she stared at him. As he touched her she let her ability slip into his mind. She could find no lie in his words. He and his people were tired, the constant war depleting their resources and wiping out families. They won the battles more often than lost, but it had put a strain on their lives. His mention of magic seemed real, too, with glimpses and flashes of things that were unexplainable popping up in his mind. Y/N thought about her people and how the English had been begging for peace for years as well, all of it falling on her father’s greedy, prideful ears. She could tell James was good, and only wanted good for his men and his people.

“I propose an allyship,” she said. James blinked and his eyebrows furrowed at her. “A peace treaty with a tradition as old as time,” she clarified, gulping quickly. “We join our families in marriage.” His eyes flicked between hers, like he was studying her. His men around him mumbled as they considered the idea. “If you are unmarried,” she amended, since she wasn’t sure, “or if someone in your nobility is unmarried, I will come with you as a peace offering, a marriage tribute. You will have me, and my power, and leave my family and my people be,” she said, trying to look and sound every bit the princess her mother had always wanted her to be. “And we will end this war and finally bring peace to our people.”

James stood straight, towering over her. He watched her for another moment, then stepped back and looked to his men behind him. Two of them walked up and spoke to him quietly. Y/N waited on baited breath as they consulted with each other. They stood back and he turned toward her again. “Done,” he said simply, the smirk returning to his lips. Y/N nodded and quietly sighed. “My Drottning,” he spoke lowly, holding out his metal hand. She put her right hand into his metal hand, admiring it.

“What does that mean?” she asked him.

“My Queen,” he winked at her. Y/N blushed deeply. He turned to his men and held her hand up high in his. “We have peace!” he yelled triumphantly. The thunderous roar returned as they cheered, their hands and swords and axes held high as they hugged each other and drank some of the wine left on the tables around them. James dropped their joined hands and kissed the hand he held, making her blush again. “Say goodbye to your family, Drottning, we leave immediately.”

He let her go and she ran up the stairs towards her family. She ignored her parents altogether, grabbing Alfie and holding him tight against her.

“Don’t go,” Alfie cried as his fingers clutched her dress.

“I have to,” Y/N cried as she carded her fingers through his hair. “You listen to me,” she knelt in front of him and held his face in her hands, “you remember what I’ve taught you.” He nodded frantically. “Do not listen to Father,” he nodded again, making her father sneer at them next to her. “I’ve seen it in you,” she whispered, laying a hand against his heart then tapping her finger to her head. “You will become one of the greatest kings England has ever known, as long as you don’t do as Father has done. You will bring continued peace and prosperity, you hear me?” She wiped his tears away. “Because you are a good boy, and will become a great man. My little king,” she kissed his forehead firmly before pulling away.

Alfie cried harder as she stepped away from him. She turned to her father. “Stay away from him,” she warned him, glancing at Alfie. “I have procured a peace that you, and your father, and your father’s father could never have dreamed of,” she sneered back at him. “Do good by our people, for once in your miserable life.” She glared at him before turning back towards James who stood patiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

His men were slowly retreating out of the great hall as he held his hand out for her again. She took it as he flashed one last glance and triumphant smile at her father before leading her out the front doors. As they walked through the courtyard and towards the horses waiting for them he glanced at her attire.

“Hm, this won’t do while riding,” he said as he twirled her around. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Where’s your lady’s maid?”

Y/N looked around and saw the telltale eyes peeking from behind the stables. “May,” she pointed.

James summoned her forward out of hiding. She quickly ran across the courtyard and into Y/N’s arms, sobbing as Y/N pet her hair. “Miss May, go fetch your princess’ riding clothes and some simple dresses for travel,” James instructed her. May stared at him with wide eyes, looking at Y/N who nodded to her. She was escorted back inside with Thor to get Y/N’s things packed.

As they stood there waiting, the snow started to fall. Y/N looked up and sighed as the cold kissed her face, a welcome reprieve to her inflamed cheeks from the night’s tension. She looked towards James who was already looking at her.

“What do I call you?” she asked him.

“You can call me Bucky,” he said.

“Bucky?” she asked, a small smirk pulling her lips.

“A nickname,” he laughed at her perplexed look. “Saved for those closest to me. And since you’ll be my queen–”

“So it is you I’ll be marrying then?” Y/N asked.

“Yes,” Bucky laughed harder. “I guess I didn’t make that very clear.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed. “You have a very English name...James.”

“Yes,” he agreed, sighing as he looked at the falling snowflakes. “We Norsemen and you Anglo-Saxons are not that different from each other,” he said with a twinkle in his eye as he winked at her again.

Y/N pondered that as May came out holding Y/N’s riding clothes and boots with Thor holding a small trunk that he loaded onto one of the wagons they had waiting. May ran back to Y/N.

“Go change, and then we’ll be off,” Bucky excused Y/N, who led May over to the stables. They went into an empty bay and May quickly stripped Y/N out of her gown and into her riding clothes.

“My lady,” May said as she held Y/N’s crown in her hands. Y/N looked at it and gingerly took it from her. She stared at it for a moment before giving it back to her. She gave May another hug.

“Take it, my love,” she said as May sobbed in her arms again. “Run away and marry that stable boy, Ben, and use it to live long happy lives together,” she said as she pulled away.

May nodded as she cried, gathering up the gown as she said goodbye.

Y/N came back out in her riding clothes. She approached Bucky who was preparing his horse. He mounted it and held his hand out to her. She took it and he helped hoist her behind him on the saddle. He wrapped her hands around his waist then she felt him tying her wrists together.

“What–” she started, trying to look over his shoulder.

“So you don’t run off,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at her in warning as he looked back at her.

“I won’t,” Y/N promised.

“That’s what they all say,” Bucky chuckled before he turned to his men who were all waiting. “To Danmark!!”

“To Danmark!” they all yelled, and the pounding of hooves rang through the night as they all rode out of the courtyard and into the English countryside.

Y/N’s arms tightened around Bucky, her head tucking in between his shoulder blades as the winter wind stung her face. She was not going to run and wanted to prove it to him. She wanted peace, even if it meant giving up herself to get it. After about an hour they all started to slow as they reached the water’s edge where multiple ships were docked, secured by other Norsemen who waited anxiously for them.

Bucky untied the rope around her wrists then dismounted. He held his hands up to her hips and helped her down as well. He inspected her wrists, giving them a short rub. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to each wrist. Y/N was surprised at his affection, but welcomed it in the moment. He pulled her towards one of the boats. He helped her step onto it and settled her into a corner of the stern that was covered in furs and quilts. He pulled one of the furs up and covered her with it, securing it around her shoulders. There was plenty of room around her as she got herself comfortable.

“It’s going to be a four day journey, Drottning,” Bucky kneeled in front of her. “This area is for all of us to sleep, so you’ll have at least a few men next to you, but don’t fear,” he reassured her at the look on her face, “they’re harmless. Just tired.”

Y/N looked around at the men loading themselves into the boat, many of them taking seats at the benches where the oars were sitting. She felt worried but nodded at him. He gave her a smile and stepped away to help load more things into the boats. They all worked methodically together until in just a few minutes they were ready to pull off. Bucky was stationed at one of the oars as well, giving the signal and they shoved off the shore.

Y/N watched the men in her boat and the others row in perfect unison. She admired their strength and the way they all seemed to be of one mind as they worked together to get into a good rhythm, making the boat fly through the water. The rhythmic rowing lulled her to sleep as she snuggled down into the furs below her.

She woke a few hours later. It was still dark out, the rowing still going strong. As she shifted to get more comfortable she felt a heavy weight around her waist. She panicked until she turned and saw Bucky’s peaceful face sleeping next to her, his metal arm resting on her side. Y/N looked down at the arm. She admired its craftsmanship, unsure of how he was able to find or create such a thing. Her fingers traced along the metal, the plates and divots carved like the muscles of a real arm would be. When she reached his hand she lightly traced each finger with the tip of her pointer finger. His hand suddenly moved to grasp her wrist. She gasped as he gently maneuvered her to face him. His eyes were still closed as he let go of her wrist then wound his metal arm around her back this time, holding her to his chest. “Sleep, wife,” he mumbled, his voice coming out hoarsely as he kissed her forehead and rested his chin on top of her head.

Y/N was stiff for a moment until the warmth enveloped her and she melted into his embrace. She pressed her nose into his sternum and breathed deeply as her hands gripped the fur coat he was wearing. He hummed as his breathing evened out and a soft snore rumbled in his chest. It lulled her to sleep again, a small smile on her face.

**picture is A.I. from Pinterest, unknown original "artist" or "creator"**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #viking!bucky barnes #viking!bucky barnes x reader #medieval #viking #chapter 1 #princess!reader #powers!reader #magic

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overthinkinglotr · 1 year ago

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I wrote a short fanfic based on this tumblr post discussing monarchy in The Hobbit! Because while LOTR takes place in a magical fairy tale world where monarchy can be good, it is funny to bring the logic of anti monarchical revolutions to middle earth.

The summary:

“It is simply the nature of all kings to kill, plunder, and hoard wealth— in the same way it is the nature of dragons,” Bilbo said.

Bilbo Baggins has lived all his life in The Shire, where leaders are democratically elected. He has never met a king before. Royal families have always been nothing more than characters in stories from far away.

But after meeting several haughty warlike kings on the Quest for Erebor, Bilbo finally realizes why the Shire has no monarchy — it is a ridiculous horrible form of government and no one with any hobbit-sense would ever agree to it.

Following the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo explains representational democracy to King Thorin Oakenshield. Overwhelmed by the hobbit’s wisdom, Thorin impulsively converts Erebor into a democratic republic and retires from public life.

But what will happen when Bilbo and Thorin’s actions set off a wave of anti-monarchical democratic revolutions across Middle Earth? Will they ever be allowed to live in peace?

(A book/movie fusion tragicomedy about the struggles of searching for an ending where “they all live happily ever after to the end of their days.”)

#the hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #bagginshield #-dabs-#crack treated seriously #what spending 10 years in the Lotr AND les mis fandom does to a mf

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neoninky · 7 months ago

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So today I was binging Bridgerton cuz apparently I’m on a romantic drama spiral 😂 good ol stuffy British romances about rich people and their non-relatable problems 👍

Which has lead me to head canons surrounding a certain group of dashing young men who are basically from a historical drama…

Yes that’s right:

Diasomnia Courtship Head Canons

Featuring Lilia’s three sons (no this is not how I’m going to write them in my story-oh who am I kidding, yes it is 😂)

Tagging peeps for shenanigans: @nuitthegoddess @wysteriadelights @iscarlettappel @foxwitchaine @1ndigowitch @victoria1676

Malleus: The prince and soon-to-be king of Briar Valley, he is naturally expected to find himself a queen and future mother to his heirs. So courtship isn't something that comes as a surprise to him. In fact, it's something he was prepared for since he became old enough to understand what courtship and marriage even were.

For Malleus, this can go one of two ways: 1) if he's being forced to meet and court a some daughter of a noble family that he's not interested in, he'll be…avoidant. In other words, he out poofs away in firefly dust. Once the guards, or Silver and Sebek, OR Lilia, finally hunt him down and force him to show up, Malleus is polite. He goes through all the motions and acts like the perfect gentleman, but anyone who knows him well can see the distant, far-off look of escapism in his eyes.

OR 2) he's not only interested, he is INVESTED. Hoo boy, good luck stopping him from trying to be the only man on this girl's radar. Not only does he perform all the expected etiquette perfectly, Malleus Draconia is the epitome of "down bad". What's her favorite color? Favorite flowers? Does she like music? What's her favorite food??? This man will discover and procure all of it for her faster than lightning. Seven help him if she is (for some reason) not impressed, he'll be crushed. Seven help him if she is impressed and - dare it be so - shows appreciation and affection in return. Smitten doesn't even skim the surface, oof. Malleus Draconia needs to marry her now. His crew will have their hands full trying to help the love-struck royal not come on too strong (too late probably) or rush things too quickly. Either way, once his mind is made up, Malleus only has eyes for his queen.

Silver: Being a human raised primarily around fae folk or even half-fae folk, Silver is familiar with the range of courting rituals that various fae have performed over the years. Human courtship, on the other hand, well…he's a bit lost if not old-fashioned in that department. Mostly because of his lack of human interaction, but also because his father is Lilia. Self explanatory. He doesn't have a preference on fae women vs human/other women, though he understands that fae live far longer than humans so that might complicate things. Regardless, Silver is clumsy when wooing women (or anyone he might be interested in). He has the heart of the very best-boi boy but he can be a bit shy with showing/voicing his feelings at first.

The majority of his life has been dedicated to becoming a worthy knight for Malleus, though his school days allowed him some leisure and fun in between his training. Even so, Silver's bravery and tenacity in battle doesn't translate into romance. In fact, he often suffers from cold feet when faced with a potential crush/love interest. Silver logically knows certain things he can do to show his affection on paper. In action, however, he may need some help practice. Don't even get him started on the anxiety his sleep condition brings him. He gets so nervous about suddenly passing out in front of the girl he wants to romance that it will sometimes make him literally sick (poor guy). Once he FINALLY gets over his nerves and takes action, Silver can make his feelings known. It may be awkward but you won't find another more genuine confession from a guy who looked like he walked out of a fairy tale. Also don't be surprised if an army of woodland creatures was recruited to help out.

If rejected, Silver is nothing if not a man of honor. He sees no point in hounding a woman who isn't interested in him, no matter how much it hurts. If his feelings are reciprocated, the poor man might pass out from joy. If he prepares correctly, Silver drinks enough coffee to keep that from happening. Silver will then exhale in immense relief ask his beloved for an even more romantic date, which he spent at least three days planning out with the help of the other Diasomnia bois. Victory achieved.

Sebek: While Malleus is enthusiastic and full throttle and Silver is charmingly shy/awkward and slow to act, Sebek is somewhere in the middle. This man is and always has been very disciplined in all endeavors. For him, romance will be no different. Sebek Zigvolt has trained since childhood to be Malleus' knight. This is his greatest goal and ambition. Someday his lord will marry and have children, precious little princes and princesses! Naturally, their security and well-being are Sebek's top priority!! As such romance has been put on the back burner through the majority of Sebek's teen years.

Once Sebek sets his sights on courtship and romance, he will not settle for just anyone, no sir. He is a man with taste and standards. You know those girls who write down the traits of their ideal husbands in a list? Sebek is the male equivalent of that. It's not as shallow as it sounds, Sebek just knows what he wants. Granted he started the list when he was about 14 years old cough, so some things do change as he matures. Even so, Sebek is - like Silver - old-fashioned in romance. He knows all the moves: bringing her flowers on the first date, taking her on romantic moonlit walks while also respecting her boundaries and fighting off any hooligans that may threaten her dignity, getting her father's approval, the whole nine yards!

And boy is he prepared. He's actually quite proud - if not smug - of how much research he's put into properly courting a lady. His grandfather made sure to leave books out for him when he was young so of course he grew into an avid reader. Definitely learned a thing or two from romance novels but will not admit it out loud.

Either way, once Sebek finds his dream girl, he already has a strategy all mapped out. If one plan doesn't work, he's got backup plans. If things are going well, Sebek will not rush the courtship, but he will absolutely have the proposal and the wedding (hell, probably the honeymoon too dayum) all planned out in his head. If he somehow misses a detail, his mother and older sister will have at least five to ten different options at the ready to offer him and his lady love.

If for some reason Sebek's affections are rejected, he will put on a strong front…until he gets home/back to Malleus's castle and then he'll just fall to pieces. He's gonna need a grieving period, bless his heart. He will more than likely be a complete wreck until he gets the heartache completely out of his system.

If all goes well and Sebek does successfully get with his dream lady love, pssssh well OF COURSE he did! Was there ever any doubt?! Foolish humans, of course not! (Lies, Sebek definitely has moments of doubt that he covers up with loud outbursts and vigorous training to the point of exhaustion. Thank Seven that it did work out though, whew.)

BONUS:

Chaos ensues any time Lilia tries to make a meal to welcome his new 'daughters' to the family. The boys immediately go into covert ops to stop him from getting into the kitchen, sometimes asking their girlfriends/wives to help distract him or getting Lilia started on a story tangent about his travels, his glory days as a general, anything to keep him talking.

#neoninky #twisted wonderland #twst oc x canon #diasomnia #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #silver vanrouge #lilia vanrouge #proud papa lilia #diasomnia courtship headcanons #twst headcanons #twst courtship #all diasomnia bois are best bois #twitterpated bois

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bookshelf-in-progress · 8 months ago

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Honors From the King: A Short Story

The sword felt strange in Mia's hand. It fit perfectly in her grasp, but it still seemed impossible that it was hers. A few days ago it had made her into a hero, but in the confusion of the battle, she barely remembered making the lucky blow that felled the giant who had terrorized the Southern Forest for ten years.

Now she, an ordinary eleven-year-old from Iowa, was the hero of a fantastical realm, waiting to receive honors from the king himself.

Elbera bustled around Mia in the antechamber-turned-dressing room of the village hall. The elf woman—barely taller than Mia—had served almost as a mother to her since the strange wind had left her in the elfin village. "Now, my dear, as you're being honored for valor in battle, it's right for you to carry the sword, but you must never put the point toward the king. If you're nervous about it, you'd best sheathe it."

Mia sheathed the sword before Elbera finished the sentence.

Elbera continued, "Since you've slain a well-known terror, it's customary for the king to offer a boon. If he offers up to half his kingdom, don't take it—it's only a polite phrase. Best to ask for something useful—perhaps a sum of gold to rebuild the bridge outside the village."

From what Mia had heard of the king, he'd do that anyway. No, if Mia was to get a boon, she would ask for only one thing.

She wanted to go home.

For nine long months, she'd been stuck in Athelor. The cheerful, dainty elves had been kind to her—sheltering, feeding and teaching her without complaint—but they weren't her family. Her parents had to be frantic about her. And her six siblings—what had they done when that strange summer wind took her away from them? An entire school year would be gone by now. If she stayed away much longer, she'd be so far behind, and it would be harder and harder to fit back into ordinary life.

The elves had been unable to provide any suggestions about how to get back home; they only told Mia to wait for the wind. But the elves had sung praises of King Edonniel's library, spoke with awe of his scholarly works about Athelor's history. If anyone knew how to get her home, the king would.

The door to the chamber opened, and a palace guard escorted Mia into sunlit wooden expanse of the main hall.

At the room's far end, the king stood among his guard. Though over fifty, he was tall and fit, with a reddish-gold beard and a noble bearing, resplendent in royal armor. He was like the good king in every fairy tale Mia had ever read, like her father, and she forgot to be afraid of him. The king was a great man—warrior, poet, scholar, diplomat—but Mia knew in an instant that he was kind enough to help a lost girl.

The assembled crowd—all the elves and talking beasts from the village—cheered as Mia approached the king. Mia tried to ignore them, instead focusing on the king’s kind face.

The king stared at her. He stood frozen for several moments, then stepped toward her. “Mia?”

Mia stumbled to a stop. "Yes?" This seemed an informal greeting from a great king.

In a blink, Mia found herself in the king's arms, crushed in a warm embrace.

"I can't believe it." The king's deep voice sounded right next to her ear. "I thought I'd never see any of you again, not here."

Mia tried to push him away. King or not, this was too weird to put up with. "Any of who? What are you doing?"

The king pulled away and looked into her face, drinking her in. "I'm sorry. Of course you don't know me. Mia, I’m Danny. Your brother."

In the privacy of Elbera’s good parlor, Mia sat alone with the king. Her brother. Her ten-year-old brother. Who she never in a million years would have connected with the great scholar, warrior, and king the elves, in their musical accents, called Edonniel.

She couldn’t doubt that he was Danny. He remembered their parents, their farm, all their family, even the dinosaur village she and he had created two summers ago. With only a year and a day between their ages, they had often been mistaken for twins, but Mia had always reveled in her superior age. Until now.

Danny seemed so dignified; he made Elbera’s soft chair look like a throne. His eyes had wrinkles around them. His red-gold beard hung down to his chest. He sat so steady, so still, gazing at her like she was his long-lost child—instead of the sister whose hair he pulled when she beat him at Mario Kart.

As Mia sat across from him on Elbera's other chair, the only thing she could think to say was, “You’re older than me.”

The king guffawed. “I’m older than Dad. But you—you don’t look a day older than when I last saw you. How long have you been here?”

“Nine months.”

“It’s been forty-eight years for me.”

Mia’s head spun at the idea. “How?”

“The wind that carried us into a different world carried us into different times. I landed on the shores of the Beryl Sea forty-eight years ago. Ever since I became king, I’ve made a study of Athelorian history, trying to find the rest of us.”

“Us?” Mia had been with her siblings when the wind had taken her, but she’d assumed they were back home in Iowa. “How many of us are in Athelor?”

“All of us,” Danny said with surprise. “Didn’t you know?”

Mia shook her head. “I couldn’t see much.”

“And when you landed here alone, you had no reason to guess that we weren’t all safely at home,” he said, understanding.

“Is anyone else here?” Mia asked, half-hoping another brother or sister would pop out from behind the furniture.

“I crossed paths with Thomas not long after I arrived, but you’re the only one I’ve met in person since. Everyone else, I’ve had to track down in history and legend.”

“You met Thomas?”

“He landed among the trolls of the northern mountains,” Danny explained. “Became a master smith—the greatest in Athelorian history. He forged that sword you carry. I have no idea how it got into the elves’ hands; I’ll bet there’s a story there.”

Danny never could stick to the point of a story. “Where is he?” Mia asked in frustration.

“He was a very old man when I met him,” Danny said. “A hundred and twenty-seven, by some counts. Some say his life was extended by working with the stones from the heart of the world.”

Was? Her little brother had been only six years old when she’d last seen him. He couldn’t be—

Mia sank back into her chair, stricken.

Danny, caught up in his story, didn’t seem to notice. “Jane lived among the centaurs and elves of the Skyveil Plains seven-hundred years ago. Became a legendary warrior and explorer, defender of the weak. Beloved by all the beasts. First to step foot on the Daybreak Isles and meet the talking mice.”

Seven-hundred years?

“Now Ben,” Danny said with a laugh, “has popped up all through history. Rarely seen for more than a day or two, but he always has some dramatic effect. Some scholars speculate he’s extraordinarily long-lived, but my theory is that time is playing with him in a different way than the rest of us.”

He said it all so calmly!

“Nora?” Mia dared to ask about their oldest sister.

Danny’s gaze turned dreamy, his voice hushed and reverent. “The legendary Queen Eleanor, present at the waking of the world.”

Danny was talking about Nora—bossy Nora!—like he was in awe of her.

Her sister—all her siblings—had become legends. They weren’t waiting for her at home. They were long dead, had been dead ever since she’d arrived, which meant they were gone forever, and there was no way home—

Mia burst into tears.

Danny reacted about like how she’d have expected him to react. He sprang up from his seat and hovered awkwardly over her chair. “Mia? What’s wrong?”

Through tears, despair, and frustration, Mia blubbered something that included the words, “They’re all dead!”

“Dead?” Danny asked. “Who said they were dead?”

Mia wiped her tears on her sleeve and glared up at him. “You did! You said Thomas was ancient, and Jane lived seven-hundred years ago, and Nora’s as old as the entire world!”

“That doesn’t mean they’re dead.”

“I’m not stupid! No one can live that long, not even here!”

Danny crouched down next to her chair. He placed both hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “Mia, look at me. I’m telling you: they’re not dead.”

Before his fatherly gaze—even with the beard, he looked a lot like Dad—Mia’s sobs became mere sniffles. “Then where are they?”

“They’re home. Safe. I promise. The same wind that brought us here brought them back home after their adventures were over.”

Just like the elves had said. But when Mia had thought she’d have to wait to go home, she’d thought it would be a few years at most, not—

“You said Thomas was more than a hundred years old.”

Danny said, “I’ve done a lot of reading about people like us. We’re not the only people who’ve come here from Earth—or gone home. The stories all say the same thing. No matter how long we spend here, the wind takes us back home to a time only minutes after we left, and we’ll be just the same age we were then. Reunited from across history, as young we ever were. A foretaste of heaven.”

His voice had gone dreamy again. The elves had said he was a poet.

Mia dried her face and sat up straight. “We’ll all be together? At our normal ages? Like we never left?”

“Exactly.”

“You and me and Thomas and Ben and Nora and—“ Mia realized something. “You never said where Claire was.”

“She’s the only one I haven’t found in history yet. That means her story’s probably still in the future. Maybe we’ll run into her someday.”

That did sound exciting, but Mia didn’t like the idea of waiting decades like Daniel had.

“How long do you think it will be? Before we go home?”

Danny stood and walked toward his chair. “I can’t say. Whenever the wind blow lately, I get the strangest feeling that I won’t be here long—maybe five years.”

Five years—half her life—not long?

“For you,” Danny continued as he sat down, “I can’t say. But I have a feeling that your adventures are just beginning.”

“I don’t want more adventures,” Mia said, as another tear dripped. “I want to go home.”

“I know,” Danny said, his voice husky with sympathy. “The first year is the hardest, and you’re so young.”

The idea of Danny—Danny!—treating her like a little kid! “I’m older than you!” Looking into his very-much-not-a-kid face, she amended, “Well, I should be.”

“You will be again, one day. But until then...“ Danny leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and suddenly sounded more like an American kid than he had all day. “This sounds so weird, but if you like, I can adopt you. You can live in the palace under my protection, and I can show you everything about Athelor. Maybe name you my heir if you like the whole royalty thing.”

He was planning a whole life for her. Plotting out a future. Here. Even without the weirdness of Danny acting like her dad, it was too much.

Danny noticed her hesitation. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I know we’re all called here for different purposes, and I don’t want to keep you from your intended mission.”

“I thought the giant was my mission.” Mia had constructed such a tidy tale—and now it was unraveling. “I came here, I slayed the giant. The story should be over. I should get to go home.”

“It will always be waiting for you. Until then, you have Athelor.”

“Athelor isn’t home!”

“It can be,” Danny said. “It’s been a good home to me. It can be a better one, now that you’re here.”

Mia suddenly realized how old her little brother was. How long he’d been waiting, searching for his family through books. And now she was here, after all this time.

Maybe that was her mission. To help this great king while he was here caring for the people of Athelor.

“I guess I can try,” Mia said. Even if she had to stay a long time—well, Danny had managed to do some amazing things, and she couldn’t let her little brother outshine her. “When we do get back home, I don’t want you to have a better story than me.”

Danny grinned—and for just a second, he looked a little like the kid she remembered. “Mia,” he said, “I think you’re going to be fit for legend.”

#the bookshelf progresses #portal fantasy #this is my long-winded way of saying that the narnia pastiches are sleeping on the time travel potential inherent in the premise #this feels like some half-baked bare-bones thing that should never leave my hard drive #just sit in my writing folder for whenever i feel like reading some silly unfinished idea #but i have a prompt to fill so here it is #also after writing poetry all month writing fiction is hard #believe it or not: writing something that's about 50 words of one voice speaking is much easier #than writing something about 20 times as long involving characters moving and interacting

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thedemonofcat · 4 months ago

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Ranking the Locations You Can Visit in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt

7. Royal Palace in Vizima

You visit the Royal Palace fairly early in the game, and unless you're aiming for the Empress Ciri ending, that's likely the only time you'll be there. It serves as an important setting early on but doesn’t offer much reason for a return visit.

6. Kear Morhen

Kaer Morhen offers stunning visuals and plays a crucial role in the story. You'll need to return for a significant part of the main quest. However, once the Battle of Kaer Morhen is over, there's little reason to come back.

5. Velen

Velen is where much of the early game takes place, with numerous quests and activities to keep you occupied. You'll spend a lot of time here as you progress through the initial stages of the game.

4. White Orchard

White Orchard is the first area you explore, designed to help you get accustomed to the gameplay. Be careful not to miss any early quests here, as it can make leveling up difficult later. Otherwise, you might find yourself aimlessly searching for fights to gain enough experience to progress.

3. Novigrad

Novigrad, including Oxenfurt, is where you'll likely spend a significant portion of your time. With a plethora of quests, stores, and activities, returning to Novigrad is a frequent occurrence. It would have been interesting if your choices throughout the game had more of an impact on the city, especially after significant events like Radovid's death.

2. Skellige

Skellige is a standout in the main story, with breathtaking scenery and a rich cultural atmosphere. Exploring this region is a joy, though the boat sections can be frustrating.

1. Toussaint

Toussaint, available through the Blood and Wine DLC, is a must-visit location. Like Skellige, it feels like an entirely new world brimming with charm and wonder. The fairy tale motifs make it a delightful experience, and it’s one of the highlights of the game.

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ouiyesplease · 2 months ago

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Tropes (minus the patriarchy)

The Damsel Has a Degree: She doesn’t wait to be rescued. She does press charges against her captor.

The Chosen One Chooses Herself: She rejects the prophecy and starts her own business.

Villains Go to Therapy: Instead of world domination, they work through their childhood trauma.

The Magical Girl Becomes a STEM Major: Using her powers for scientific research and feminist activism.

The Brooding Hero Learns Emotional Intelligence: He stops scowling and starts going to support groups.

The Princess Takes the Throne: She overthrows the patriarchy and implements universal healthcare.

Enemies to Feminist Allies: They join forces to dismantle the system that pit them against each other.

The Magical Sword Is Feminist AF: It only works for women who support other women.

The Sidekick Gets Equal Pay: No more doing 80% of the work for 20% of the credit.

The Knight in Shining Armour Becomes a Stay-at-Home Dad: And he loves every second of it.

The Quest Is for Equal Rights: They set out to slay the wage gap instead of dragons.

The Mentor Learns to Listen: Instead of dispensing wisdom, he starts a “Men Against Mansplaining” club.

The Heroine Opts for Platonic Soulmates: Because romantic love isn’t the only form of love that matters.

The Hero Learns About Intersectionality: He realizes “saving the world” requires far more than one big weapon-wielding battle.

The Fairy Tale Ends in a Women’s March: The kingdom rallies for equality instead of a royal wedding.

The Hero Doesn’t Kill the Dragon: Because the dragon is an endangered species and conservation matters.

The Prince Learns to Take Rejection: No more pestering; he respects “no” as a complete sentence.

The Hero’s Journey Ends in Therapy: He heals from toxic masculinity.

Mentor Works to Repay Student Loan Debt: Wisdom doesn’t pay the bills, and now they moonlight as a social media astrologist.

The Bard’s Songs Are Copyrighted: And he’s being sued for profiting from Taylor Swift’s lyrics in his “epic ballads”.

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jedimaesteryoda · 4 months ago

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The Green Fork ran swift and deep here, but the Freys had spanned it many centuries past and grown rich off the coin men paid them to cross . . . when they were done they'd thrown up stout timber keeps on either bank, so no one might cross without their leave. -AGOT, Catelyn IX

The Freys have so far proven to be one of the most faithless houses in the series. They use their position as Lords of the Crossing to secure themselves the best offer, always demanding a toll.

It brings to mind the tale of "The Three Billy Goats Gruff," a troll under the bridge, always greedy, was willing to forgo one goat for the next if the next one was bigger, meaning he offered a larger meal. Lord Walder himself is a grumpy and greedy figure like the troll, always hungry for the best deal for himself. With things coming in threes, the Freys join their cause to royal candidates and are quick to throw them aside and turn their cloaks if the next candidate is stronger and brings potentially more rewards.

The Freys first allied with Robb Stark, King in the North. He offered them a marriage and fostering two Freys. They then cast him aside after his broken betrothal, and Lord Walder had been wanting to switch sides after the Battle of the Blackwater. They are now allied with the Lannisters the wealthiest house, with the alliance with House Tyrell, the two strongest kingdoms, making them the strongest players on the field. They made the Freys de facto lords of the riverlands and offered marriages like the Boltons making Walder's grandaughters' the Ladies of the North and Darry and prizes like Riverrun. However, we know like with Robb Stark, the Lannisters' success won't last due to Cersei's mismanagement, the desire for vengeance over their past actions and another player coming onto the field from across the Narrow Sea.

"And what if I do not choose to pay this toll?" "Then you had best retreat back to Moat Cailin, deploy to meet Lord Tywin in battle … or grow wings. I see no other choices."

The fairy tale ends when the third goat arrives, the biggest and strongest of the three. The hungry troll sees him as his best meal, but he misses that his size took away the troll's leverage in threatening him as the goat knew it was capable of challenging the troll and rams him into the river to drown. The last candidate that will make them turn their cloaks and offer an alliance to will of course be Daenerys, the strongest of the three candidates.

Knowing she will need to face King Stannis, they'll demand large rewards from her. Like possibly amongst other things, to be made liege lords of the riverlands or even Riverrun and Winterfell given Walda was supposed to be Lady of the North. I also wouldn't put it past Black Walder to offer Daenerys marriage. Of course, in doing so, they overplay their hand.

They missed as each royal house they made their offer to got stronger that meant they could demand more rewards it also meant their leverage was weaker. They had the most leverage with Robb who absolutely needed them to get from the North to Riverrun and vice versa. Their leverage lessened with the Lannisters as they knew the Freys had nowhere else to go if they pulled the Red Wedding, and did not need the Crossing as much, being able to send men from King's Landing to the North or riverlands via the kingsroad. With Daenerys, she will have learned of their history of treachery, having proven themselves to be untrustworthy allies who had made themselves pariahs and lost much of their military strength in the North and reprisals over the Red Wedding. They will demand much while offering her little, or overcharging for their services. Along with having a large army, she will have dragons, something none of the other candidates ever possessed, that will allow her to fly over the Twins without paying their toll.

Looking at the opportunity costs, she may also find that they made themselves so universally hated, that it would do more for her cause to crush them.

Daenerys's reply to their offers of alliance will likely be met with "Dracarys." The Twins will likely be burned in dragonflame, and the ones who survive the flames will jump into the river to drown.

The Freys always demanded a toll, but failed to see that if they didn't live up to their side of the bargain of providing assistance, there would be a price to pay for their faithlessness and treachery.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house frey #walder frey #the riverlands #robb stark #house lannister #daenerys targaryen #house targaryen #queen daenerys

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thehylianidiot · 7 months ago

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Sooo... bout that idea of "Maruki's palace but it's the setting of Princess Tutu" concept. I may have been obsessing over it and did a few concept sketches.

Explanations under the read more

The concept is simple: the ability to become a god changes Maruki's palace theme after the Christmas Actualization; instead of a laboratory, where experiments and uncertainty are used to find the answers, it's now a "Fairy Tale" where rule are certain and can be whatever the author wants them to be. In other words, I have an excuse to make the setting Gold Crown from Princess Tutu with P5 characters. Yes, this would place Maruki firmly in the role of Drosselmeyer...except with like the exact opposite intent. Upon entering the palace on 01/02, the royal trio end up trapped within a never-ending story, with a part of themselves scattered to avoid them from progressing. They have 32 days to realize something's up, seek out their missing "heart shards", and complete the palace. Along the way, they will encounter cognitions of other P5 characters (I haven't gotten that for into the details of that though). Personas I think shall be restricted because A) it's a god's palace he can do whatever he wants with his cognition's rules, and B) because I wanna :3

As said, in order to progress in the palace, the trio needs to find the missing pieces of themselves scattered throughout the palace. There are 3 shards total, ergo replacing the "Will Seeds" of the palace. This concept is meant to lend itself to a lot of character development. Remember that the story start on 01/02, meaning any third-semester plot points have not been revealed to the characters yet (hehehe, much potential angst, much wow). Order of shard discovery initially set for: Sumi -> Akechi -> Joker

Each of the three's ballet clothes are based on a simplified version of their metaverse outfits, meant to promote mobility and helps the artist maintain her sanity. Sumi is a shoo-in for the advanced classes. Her skill as a gymnast (regardless of the comparisons to her sister) are seriously good, and that's not even accounting for her metaverse outfit resembling a ballerina. Whether or not she stays in the advanced class due to her whole identity crisis in parallel or October 3rd is another matter. Ren isn't top of the class, but he's fairy decent himself thanks to tutelage from a certain gymnast confidant. Kid picks up on lots of things pretty quickly. But on the bright side, in Gold Crown he always gets to wear his Joker mask...and probably good on his metaverse identity's namesake along the way. You'd think Akechi wouldn't be the least experienced dancer of the three...but his battle style isn't exactly the most...graceful (especially in the edge-suit) and he definitely wouldn't have reached out to anyone for lessons and stuff. Also, having to deal with others being considerably better than him at something? He would hate it and it would be hilarious. Thus, somehow the rageball somehow has a parallel to a literal duck. Note that each of the trio is not a 1:1 ratio with any of Princess Tutu's main cast. For example, while Sumi is a sweetheart like Duck, the need to adjust her technique as she learns to be her own person parallel's Mythos, and her desire to initially keep Maruki's reality when she realizes what she would have to give up parallel's Rue's motivations. And that's just for one of them!

Also yes, since I'm a hopeless romantic when it comes to Princess Tutu, I swear I shall find a way to put in the underwater lake dance!!!

ANYWAY

That's all I have so far. What do folks think?

#princess tutu au #persona 5 au #persona 5 royal #p5 #p5r #why are there so many persona tags?#fic concept #sketch of concept #ren amamiya #sumire yoshizawa #goro akechi #Royal trio #how could i forget that one?

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blueathens · 1 year ago

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Once Upon A Time - Chapter One

Summary: Charles was never allowed to leave the castle, until one day he, and his best friend Pierre, decided to break the rule and leave the castle walls, only to bump into the well-known criminal, Robin Hood, who doesn’t see them in the same golden light that they were raised within. But Charles decides to ignore her hatred and becomes the bane of her existence.

Song: Whistle Shop by Roger Miller Quote: ‘You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.’ Word Count: 9819

TW: A direct narrator (only at times, then switches to third person - give the feel of a book being read to you like someone usual did for us when we were children), mention of death, mention of murder,

A/N: Not proof-read or edited. A/N 2: Taglist and detailed references found in reblog!

Masterlist//Main Masterlist

ACT ONE, CHAPTER ONE

(Ah, where to begin? How about once upon a time…

…How many times have you heard that to begin a story? Let’s do something else.

In a far-off land, where – what? That’s been done too? In fairy tales? Ha, no, this story is far from a fairy tale, in fact it isn’t even one. Nor is it a legend or a myth, or even a bedtime story that you were grown and raised on as a child, this isn’t a story that you’ll know line by line, and this is not something that will be turned into a film or tv show.

No.

This is simply life.

With our Planet Earth that holds vast oceans, forests, and lands such as England, Greece, Monaco, Zosnurg and – you’re kidding…you don’t have a country called Zosnurg on your version of Earth?

What about pirates? Mermaids? Sirens? Dragons? Fairies? Krakens? Vampire Mermaids? Chimeras?

…None?

So, this would be like one of your stupid fantasy books then? Okay…well, let’s just get some things straight then before we start this boo – these lives that I’ll be talking about.

(Which I suppose in some way is a story if I’m talking abo– I, as a narrator, will stop talking now…)

(I do apologise)

Rule One.

This is not a fairy tale.

Yes, we have witches and princes’, and balls, and enchanted forests, and adult-eating witches, and even the children-eating witches too, mermaids of all forms, dragons, chimeras, and even werewolves and lycans, pukwudgie, and dryads.

And yes there is a yucky love story.

And yes there are sword fights, and war, and love and hatred, and death and –

Alright, I know this may sound like a ‘fairy-tale’ but isn’t everything a fairy tale? You have two love interests who have to go through a lot to be together? Sounds kind of like one to me…Only difference is that we don’t need to battle a dragon, well talking to my mother sometimes feels like I’m battling a–

Anyways, life is a fairy tale, a rubbish one, but a fairy tale, nevertheless.

But this isn’t the typical annoying fairy tale where the knight in shining armour goes and rescues the princess from her tower and shares a true loves kiss once the dragon is slayed.

No, that’s just fucking lame.

Instead the prince befriends a dragon, and he doesn’t save a princess, there are no princesses, well there are, but they aren’t important, this isn’t about them.

This is about the prince and the criminal and – what on earth are you talking about? You’ve seen fairy tales like this before? Get lost.

I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, this isn’t a fairy tale – this is real, not make belief, but real.

This isn’t so called Aladdin or Rapunzel – I mean Tangled – this is real life.

This isn’t a fairy tale.

In fairy tales life is presented as blissful and magical and makes you want to gouge your eyes out because you know you can never live a life where birds will get you ready for the day. Whilst in other fairy tales you feel like you are on the spinning teacups, and nausea creeps up on you from what you’re experiencing.

(Cause I’ll come clean now, I’ve never had any of my grandmothers be swallowed up by a wolf or ever seen a man become blinded by brambles).

No, these lives I’ll be telling you about will either leave you crying or smiling or perhaps even laughing – but most likely you’ll be crying, cursing my name for ever telling you about these people.

I am not sorry.

But just a pre warning – this is not a fairy tale.

Rule Two.

Don’t worry, you won’t have to hear my lovely narration voice all the time, I chose not to.

(I don’t get paid enough for that).

But when I do decide to talk with you I will do so in italics and in brackets (as so illustrated) – I have a few notes about these people for example how bloody stupid our main female character is and –

Rule Three.

We do not, and I mean, do not break out into a musical number, we don’t do that here. Absolutely not. And no singing birds are going to help get anyone dressed either or clean their house – they aren’t lazy – life doesn’t allow anyone to be this lazy.

There are no such things as true loves kiss – a little kiss is not bringing anyone to life – unless magic is involved of course, but that’s an entirely different story.

There is no happy endings too, that doesn’t exist, never has, never will, people will die, we will cry, but then we’ll move on and carry them with us.

Even she will di–

Rule Four.

No spoilers.

(Now, that’s all the rules I can read in my messy handwriting across this coffee-stained napkin that obviously didn’t contain the pretty barista’s number.

…

There was no pretty barista

It was just Sue, the sixty-old woman who knows my order off by heart, but claims to dislike me – however, she did smile at me earlier after I spilt coffee all over myself, so guess she doesn’t hate me…)

Oh and –

Rule Five.

This is not a fairy tale.)

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

This is the story about a girl named Y/n and it starts with the sun.

Most are unaware how the once worshipped as a god by various of religions and cults ever came around, and just like the star that’ll burn the believers who venture too close, no one could remember how their King became King and when the Queen fell pregnant three times, gifting their world with three beautiful boys.

The first passed the crown down, the third shall remain a prince, and the second is deemed to be king one day.

To the world, this families beginnings felt like a fever dream – a gorgeous one though, and most carried such a strong love for them, but not all, some carried a strong hatred for them and had been wanting a revolution for ages.

A passerby once told his children, after a trip to Eynsworth one spring, that he never had much thought of their sun being a star, he knew it was, but he never felt like it was. Not until he, after meeting the royal family, had the pleasure in holding their second born, a few months after his birth, and my, the passerby never felt so close to the sun, nor did he fear being burnt. In his hands he was holding something golden; something godly. Just like the sun. But it wasn’t the sun, no, it was a gift from the golden beams above them, he was a star. He was their new star, their sun.

On the 16th of October a son was born. A prince. And he was given the name Charles.

Their future king.

Our star, our sun.

It was hard not to love the prince who found himself trapped within castle walls, barely venturing out into the world, but when he does he’s constantly close to his father as they enter new lands (for him at least) where all hand his gifts to his knights – his protectors – with flowers and gifts. Only soft smiles were what he was allowed to retrieve, no other gifts of any sorts should be handed to him directly.

(There were many soft smiles which later turns into flirty looks from those his age as he grew up).

Along with growing older, where falling in love was more on someone’s mind, Charles never become blind in seeing how his best friend and his first knight-in-training, Pierre Gasly, wasn’t shy of the extra attention that was given when Charles was allowed to see the world outside the castle walls. Little winks thrown around and bright smiles whilst the prince watched in disgust before taking a strong interest in the world around him, watching how the clouds glided through the sky, forming different works of arts for all to enjoy, and how the branches of the trees waved them off for their travels, knowing the next time they are seen a new image will be formed, quite possibly a picture of what they saw on their travels.

(All in all, one person stayed on his mind, the one he meets growing up, the other main character of our stor–of these lives).

Once, at the age of seven, he saw the sea for the first time, and he wondered what it would be like to feel the salty air tickling his skin, embracing him in a warm hug where his cologne is replaced with the smell of the sea. He even wondered what life as a fish would be like, swimming endlessly through the waves as it dodged every obstacle in their way. He wondered if they felt lonely down there just as he does within the palace walls, hoping for a struck of bravery to hit him to just leave and see the world for a moment, even just for a second, just to go on an adventure without anything bothering him.

He wondered if the sea felt grateful to be holding such beauty in their arms, cradling it, kissing it, and bringing it deeper into their warmth, with some even grazing the sandy fingers of Poseidon. He imagines that the graze occasionally turns into a handshake, welcoming those to a new view, begging them to lie down in the pit of darkness to try and spot a single beam of light – they never do, they’re in too deep.

Charles questioned his breathing ability, the young boy would hold competitions in the pool at home where he timed himself on how long he could hold his breathe as he sits on the bottom, he thinks maybe one day he could be like those aquatic animals that reach the bottom to shake Poseidon’s fingers. Poseidon’s ‘spot the sun’ game would eventually become to easy then, as the sun would be in his grasp, smiling brightly at him as he whispers, “I did it.” And all Poseidon would do is nod as he looks at the boy’s eyes that (of right now) resembles the colour of the sea on postcards that grandparents send to their grandchildren.

The sun child even wondered if the sun felt any different if he was elsewhere, maybe it feels warmer if he was in a place he loves instead in one of the many gardens of his castle or the small amount of times he’s with his father in a different country doing something of work – which his father calls father and son bonding.

Maybe his skin becomes painted in various shades of gold, letting him stand with a cheery smile whilst looking like a lost jewel in a faraway land. Where he watches the clouds shift and change like a person’s mood and observes the sky’s colour platter shattering from the phenomenon of the sun setting.

The Prince of England, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc of many of the Grandale Islands (a group of various places, islands, and countries that the family have ownership over. One of the most recent ones that the Leclerc’s took ownership of was when Charles was just five years old, after a neighbouring (and independent) country (Zosnurg) became littered with destruction, gore, and weapons as England battled them for land. (Charles’ second home country, despite being born in Monaco, his father decided to move the family to England after the birth of his last son) The air of Zosnurg was filled with numerous of smokes that contributed to the deaths of many on the battlefields. An army of rebels and an army of warriors would once constantly fight each other to the death for the land that both kings desired. It was unclear of what side would win; it formed a tiresome fear for those nearby as they dreaded to think of the war becoming never-ending. The fighters were grimed with pain, exhaustion, and their spirits were broken. The war was soon ended by King Raphaël (the father of the Leclerc’s) killing the King of Zosnurg with his sword.)

Charles recalls growing up with some of the kind souls around the castle, watching with a frown as the lower statuses had to clean the mess up, rebuild the economy that was destroyed by the war with the rich bossing them around. He remembers watching them nearly everyday from his bedroom window, or from the carriage as they rode through the towns like Aramore (a poor town that was mainly affected by the war as it was often targeted with bombs for a few months). Most of England was left undamaged though, only a small percentage of the country was damaged, it was Zosnurg that carried most of the destruction and those of Zosnurg had to rebuild their country like the first citizens of their country once did.

It was the Leclerc’s property now.

He wasn’t allowed to do anything about the mess, nor ask to help, or even ask his family about it. All he got told was it was not his business yet and that he was far too young to worry about such a thing.

So, growing up, trapped in the castle, and venturing out as little as possible, he watched as far as he could see get rebuilt, and become better than it once was. Soon, he was allowed out, it was about a year later, his godfather – his older brother’s best friend – Eric Russo– was given the permission to take him out karting in their city, Eynsworth. He grew to love the sport, later watching Eric, from the TV, travel the world to race.

Along with karting, the prince took up other activities to keep him occupied within the castle walls, even going as far as painting, but was quick to discover that was not his forte.

Charles was ten years old though when he first heard of a person who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. And it was a month after the discovery that he learnt how much his father hated this mysterious figure who’s blacked out silhouette littered the tea-stained wanted posters that was flown to country-to-country, hanging round in various places.

Wanted for £3000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood

That was the name the whispers would call them after the fourth robbery. It was a cool spring evening, and the robbery affected a close family friend, Mr Clive. They took anything that was valuable, and when discovered that there was a robbery, the bells of the townhall began to ring, people of Eynsworth then began to venture out and onto the streets in the early morning, sleeping dust prickling their eyes as they stood in the breeze. They were all dressed in their pyjamas as they watched Mr Clive – the man who was robbed – walk around in nothing but boxers as he stormed right towards the castle with his very young-looking wife begging him to do this at a better time.

No, the only good time was of right now. He demanded for the thief to be found, and the King agreed as he stares at the barely dressed man in the front gardens of his home from Arthur’s (his youngest son) bedroom window.

The following week new wanted posters were being sent out.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

The days after Mr Clive’s robbery, many more got robbed, some even finding arrows outside their houses or even watched how the thief dodged the thrown slippers, wooden spoons, chairs and even vases sent their way.

Many questioned on the presumed age of this criminal, but they never thought on the matter long as they presumed that due to everything happening so quickly they couldn’t quite judge on how old this criminal may be.

However, at first thought they believed the criminal was too small to be of around presumed age, but as mentioned before, they never allow themselves to dwell on the matter long enough.

The week after new wanted posters were sent out along with a new wanted poster for Robin Hood’s partner.

Wanted for £30,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

Wanted for £5,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief and partner of the notorious Robin Hood.

It was discovered that the archer was partnered with someone after Mr Clive got robbed once more. After falling down his stairs, hurrying down to capture the intruders with a broken torch in his hand, he watched the moment he swung his front door open with a throbbing head, as the pair, already at such a great distance, carried sacks of money over their shoulders, laughing with their heads thrown back as they pushed the other around.

On his 13th birthday, the discovery of Robin Hood and Little John being children were uncovered. No one was quite sure who leaked this piece of information, some say that someone accidently let it slip, some even mentioned that perhaps the duo robbed them and then they caught sight of how young they looked, some even suggested that maybe the duo wronged the anonymous person and they wanted to get their revenge.

Charles believes none of the suggestion were the correct reasons.

Robin was 12, nearly 13, (an age that was incredibly shocking and was being slowly processed by the world) and Little John was just 15.

And once again, prices were raised.

“Your dad should hire them to be one of his knights,” Pierre suggested one night in Charles racing themed bedroom, all of his brothers, Pierre and Eric being locked in there whilst a meeting was being held right outside about Robin Hood and Little John after they easily battled and escaped the King’s best men – no injuries were occurred, nothing but bruised egos and dignities.

Lorenzo, Charles’ older brother, scoffs whilst Eric shook his head in disagreement. “Why would someone who sounds like they hate the rich, join them?”

“People change,” the young French boy tries to argue. “Right amount of money and he could be running to Raphaël’s side.”

“The price over their head is a lot already. I don’t think they–”

“He?” Charles arched a brow as he looked over at Pierre, who sat on his bed whilst Charles sat on the windowsill to watch the chaos below him. “What do you mean he? I don’t think it’s a he by how people talk of their movements.”

“It’s a kid our age, Charles, they’ve been doing this for years, they aren’t going to be noisy.”

“Still don’t think it’s a he though. Doesn’t make sense – maybe Little John is, but Robin Hood can’t be.”

“What are you–”

“I think Charles is right…” Arthur looked up from the game device he was playing on, handed by Lorenzo to keep the 11-year-old entertained. “I heard whispers that it is a she.”

“You went out?” Lorenzo’s firm voice came, laced with concern. “You’re not supposed to–”

“No way,” whistled Pierre. “Impossible.”

“Cool.” Charles nodded. “Maybe she can give you all a tip or two on how to fight, shoot an arrow and not be as noisy as a Heffalump.” He teased as he looked at Eric, Lorenzo, and Pierre as he mentioned the skills they’ve been lacking most in.

“Mate do not relate me to those things in the forest,” Pierre groaned. “They’re not cool.”

“How are purple elephants not cool?” Arthur piped in, furrowed brows as he stared down the older boy.

“Are you trying to say you are cool?” Eric smirked as he folded his arms.

Heffalumps are said to be dangerous creatures, but Lorenzo had told Charles about the whispers among the caring citizens (the poor who lived in their lack of riches town; Aramore) that those hunter’s stories are all false, that these creatures were actually rather friendly, and they are cruel to the hunters as they are the ones trying to kill them.

He even told Charles the story of how he even was lucky enough to meet and touch a Heffalump with these three children of Aramore that was around Charles’ age. It was a few years ago, but it was a memory Lorenzo would carry forever as for once he wasn’t treated as a prince, or a knight in training, he was just treated as himself, as Lorenzo.

He felt free.

Charles and Arthur envied him for it, envied how he was allowed to go out and do what he wishes whilst they befriended the paintings on the walls.

Charles looked away from the group and turned to look back out the window only to find a butterfly pressed against his window, his vibrant coloured wings not at show, and Charles begin to hate the insect he was staring at.

Hated how it was allowed to sore the grey skies, hated how it was allowed to taste the sweet nectar of the plants around and he wondered if he would ever be deemed lucky enough to taste something as lovely as that. He wondered if he was beautiful like a butterfly, if someone looked at him like Aphrodite herself, and be able to memorise every part of him with their eyes closed.

Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever be that lucky, so he left himself wondering if a butterfly knew everything about flowers, wondered if they knew which one had the sweetest nectar, and which ones to stay away from, he wondered if they ever felt safe in those cocoons they break out of after the transmission from a caterpillar to a butterfly was complete – he wondered if they felt that change, if they realised they were now a beautiful and elegant insect that everyone admired from afar but were too scared that a simple touch would shatter them.

It was a month after his birthday that two faces were placed onto the wanted posters after they attempt to rob from Eynsworth Castle. Failing to do so due to the amount of protection these places were gaining over the years, his home being the most. A knight caught them, and after a difficult battle that ended with an arrow in the Knight’s thigh, he was able to give the King and Queen a detailed description on their Robin Hood and Little John.

No name was given, and no name was being found out any time soon. But his parents and those of riches were ecstatic with this newfound information.

Wanted for £50,000. Dead or Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Age: 12 approx. Gender: Female

Above the silhouette changed to a drawn picture of the girl and the presumed personal description was ripped out and in came her age and gender. And after the attempted Eynsworth Castle robbery, King Raphaël and Queen Anna agreed that they didn’t not care how this archer was handed in.

Death may even be better as there was no way she would be able to escape.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Age: 15 approx. Gender: Male

And just like Hood’s, his silhouette was changed to a drawn image of him.

Everyone was still in shock about the age, but now their shock grew at the thought that it was a female who was causing them so many problems for so many years. Charles and Arthur were the only ones who weren’t shocked as they collected their packets of chocolate buttons from those around the castle who all disagreed with the idea of Robin Hood being a female.

“It’s not really criminal though, is it?” Pierre asked as he, Eric, Lorenzo, Arthur, and Charles laid on the grass in one of the many gardens of the castle. “It’s more deviant, no?”

“I wouldn’t say it such a bad thing,” Lorenzo muttered, arms under his head as his eyes stayed on the stars above them.

“How bad is it out there? For the poor?” Charles asked curiously, never truly knowing how bad it was for them, only seeing small sights of it when he did go near those areas.

“They have it bad,” Arthur muttered, eyes closed as he too rested his folded arms behind his head. He could feel Lorenzo’s eyes burning into the side of his head at the mention of his little trips outside the castle walls without anyone. “It’s like dad forgets they exist and just shoves them to the side.” He shifts to French casually as his mind thought on the way they live.

“Oh,” he nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes counted the stars.

He loves the stars, truly does, he wishes he could join them for a moment and just sparkle and dance up there as they guide people home, forming little imagery onto the sky too. He wouldn’t want to stay forever, would find it too boring, but he’ll like to know what being a star was like.

He even wanted to know how to find these constellations, he reads books and searches the web for tips on how to spot them, but still, as night passes he still finds himself struggling to even find the beginning of one.

“When I’m King I wouldn’t push them to the side…we’ll be equals.”

“Cute vision,” Eric utters in French. “But that isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”

The boys laid in silence as they watched different things. Like for Arthur he was seeing those weird dots you see when your eyes are shut. For Lorenzo, he was still admiring the stars along with Charles. For Eric, he was watching the trees wave in the gentle breeze. And Pierre was sat up, knees brought to his chest as he pulled out strands of grass and twisted them around his fingers to act as a ring.

“She’s quite pretty, no?” Pierre whispered in French, loud enough for them to hear, but they knew the question was more aimed towards his best friend than any of the others.

“Who?” Charles asks, responding back in the same language, oblivious to what Pierre was getting at as he connected the dots his own way to form a future for himself.

“This ‘Robin Hood’ girl.”

“Does it matter?” Pierre sighed as he looked up from the strand of grass, only to stare at his friend’s side profile as he babbled on in French and avoided a simple question. “I’d prefer if she’s a good person than if she looks nice.”

“But she’s pretty, no?” Pierre arches a brow, corner of his lip pointing up into a smirk as he hears his friend sigh and close his eyes.

“Oui.”

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

Present Day – February.

Leather boots walked among the cobblestones, dressed in a cream shirt, dark trousers, and a navy hooded jacket, with the hood over their heads, the two now fourteen-year-olds moved beneath the ever-blue sky with lacy, white-edged clouds that formed a perfect line-up in the blue, as if they were boats safely moored in a celestial harbour, with the singing birds soaring above as they acted as the fishes of the skies.

Across the cobbled streets, critters ran across, dodging the horses trotting down, nodding their heads side-to-side. One of the fourteen-year-olds had to resist the urge to stroke the horses’ head, as they didn’t know what would happen if they were caught outside the castle.

The two made their way towards a concluded alleyway and as they grew closer to the towering brick wall at the end, they decided they would climb over it once they reached that issue. The taller one of the pair, kneeled down first, linking his hands together as it hovered over his propped up knee, the other placed their foot on the other hands, feeling them boost them up for them to be able to grab ahold of the top edge of the wall, their hand brushed against a tea-stained paper hanging on the wall, but before it could move up any further, an arrow whistled past them, skidding the side of the shorter one’s fingers as it hit and wobbled in the poster beside him.

The action made the pair pause, the kneeled down one looked up whilst the other looked over his shoulder to try and find the one who shot the arrow. The taller one let the shorter one down before he takes a watchful step in front of him as they watched the alleyway’s self-crafted shadows in front of them carefully.

Approaching out the shadows was a slightly shorter, and hooded figure, the bow in their hand was still raised whilst the other was over their shoulders, plucking out another arrow from their brown quiver. They stepped into the light more as they nocked their arrow, drawing the string back as they made the pair their target. The archer was dressed in a dark forest green cape with black cargo trousers and ruined boots. Their clothes were already covered in mud, and they watched as the figure instructed with their head for the two to lower their hoods and raise their arms.

“Money, now.” The hooded figure demanded.

“You can shove that arrow right up where–”

“That’s not very princey of you,” they smirk under their hood. “Did the King never tell you how dangerous it was out here?”

“Princey isn’t even a word,” the tallest of the pair folded their arms, muttering.

“Money, now.” They released the arrow; it skimmed past and shot threw the first arrow they released.

One of the two threw a small satchel of coins and the hooded figure just sighed as they placed their bow over their head, nestling it at a safe angle across her back.

“You’re Robin Hood.” The Prince breathlessly says as he watches her pick up the small satchel of coins.

She hums, bowing down dramatically as she grins up at the pair. “It is I,” she then raises from her bowing position and places a hand on her chest as she takes a step closer to the two. “And you two are Prince Charles Leclerc and his…Pierre Gasly?” The figure now stands a few feet away from them now, pushing down her hood for the pair of them to look at her. “Shouldn’t you two be…I don’t know…anywhere but here?”

Pierre mouth fell agape at the sight of her.

“You must know,” she continues, “we don’t like your type very much?”

“And what is our type?” Charles arches a brow, arms mimicking his best friends as he folds them across his chest.

“Rich pricks,” she offers them a fake smile, as she rounds them, ripping the poster off from her arrows as she inspects it, the two boys didn’t dare to make a run for it. They knew the stories already, even if they ran she would still catch up with them.

Her brows raise. “Still just £50,000? Is that all I’m worth to you guys,” the corner of her lips quirk up. “Suppose I should do something soon to make that go higher, ay?” The pair stayed silent as she span on her heel and moved closer to the wall to take down the other poster from the wall.

Their eyes were on her back as she looks down at both posters, they hear an airy laugh leave her lips.

She now turns back to face the two as she presented the two posters to them, as if it was the first time they ever saw them. “At least they can get my nose right,” she comments as she peers over at the other wanted poster. “Unlike Danny’s.”

“You just–”

“Told you Little John’s name?” She looks up, a smirk still playing at her lips. “Thought our little rat told the royals that already?” They shook their heads as she hummed in surprise. “Well, it be rude to not introduce ourselves, no? Considering we’ll be the ones who will take down your type of people.” She scrunches the posters up in her hands before stuffing it into her trousers pocket, she then holds out her hands for the pair to shake. “I’m Y/n – Y/n L/n, and my mate is Daniel Ricciardo.” She awaits for them to shake her hand, but their pair just stays staring at. “Suppose you don’t shake a peasant hand,” she puts her hand down, “proves to show why we don’t respect you.” She spat out before shrugging her shoulders as she too mimicked the way their arms were crossed against their chest. “Do what you wish with our names, no doubt that little mole be telling that King sooner or later.”

“You’ve got quite the reputation.” Pierre couldn’t help but say.

“Reputation?” She tilts her head, smirk still playing at her lips, they thought it was painted on as not once have they ever seen it fall, except the small falter of it when neither of them shook her hand. “I have a reputation?”

“Yeah, the steal from the rich and give to the poor reputation.”

She lets out another airy laugh.

“I’m just doing what the King can’t do.” Y/n half-shrugs as she pulls her hood back on. “We aren’t lucky like you, Princey.” Her eyes shifts to just focus on Charles.

“It’s still not a word,” Pierre comments next to Charles.

“Still don’t care,” she rubbed her dirty hand down her face. “We don’t have people running us a bath and we don’t have someone baking my bread, but at least I know that I earned that bread; and my god do I deserve it.”

“They say you’re a common theft.”

“Can’t be common with that price over my head.” She teased, sniffling her nose slightly as she looked around before looking at Charles again, the one who was mainly speaking to her now.

She noticed how clean the pair looked and how well put together they were. They didn’t look as slim as she did as they were able to get the food they needed. Their hairs were slightly longer than she expected it to truly be, she thought their highly paid hairdressers would be there giving them a nicer cut, but instead they looked like two teens who were just experiencing different styles for their hair.

The thirteen-year-old girl looked at the two fourteen-year-olds curiously, examining every difference they had over her. They held themselves tall, but their eyes held a sense of disorientation in them, it was like they were a lost puppy, not knowing what to do or where to go.

“Do you think I’m a criminal?” She questioned. “It wouldn’t matter if you do. We’re not going be friends,” she rambles. “Just curious to know how you see u–”

“No.” Charles answered over her short rambling, and she stopped and looked over at them. “I don’t think you’re a criminal for trying to keep everyone alive.”

Y/n titled her head to the side.

“You don’t know what it’s like do you?” She asked quietly, and for once in their meeting she wasn’t carrying that smirk. “You really don’t know how bad it is, do you?”

They just shook their heads.

“It’s best you don’t,” she cleared her throat. “Don’t need to save anymore of you guys.”

Pierre raises a brow. “Who have you saved?”

“Eric and Lorenzo,” she purses her lips, “more times than I can count on one hand.”

“My younger brother, Arthur,” Charles begins, “he hasn’t been around here, has he?”

“Why? Scared we’ll do something?” She rolls her eyes. “I haven’t seen him, but I hear he’s with Wyatt and Lando a lot.”

“Who are they exactly?”

“Good kids that you won’t ever go near,” she narrows her eyes at them. “In fact, it be best if the pair of you leave Aramore and don’t come back. Tell those three that too. Stick to your little rich friends and the things you know, alright? And I’ll go home and tell my folks that I hit the jackpot, that I robbed the Prince and his knight in training.” She takes one more step closer to them. “If this was a story, I’ll die in the end. You know, with being wanted and all. They know enough and I’m surprised they haven’t caught me at least once yet.” Y/n shook her head as she walks past the pair. “Go back to your little castle.”

“Huh,” Pierre unfolds his arms. “She really don’t like us.”

Charles shakes his head, “but perhaps we can change her mind.” He states as he too puts his hood back on, Pierre copying before they walk out of the alleyway. Despite her leaving mere seconds before them, she was nowhere in sight when they exited the one-way alleyway.

“Get your Daily News right here!” A voice yelled as he held a stack of newspapers whilst the boy next to him waved one in the air, holding his cap out for change to fall into. “Get your Daily–”

Charles hits Pierre in the arm, nodding his head towards the two, what he presumes, are twelve-year-olds. They swiftly make their way towards them, standing in front of them as Charles places two coins into their cap.

“Bonjour,” Pierre greets with a smile as he takes down his hood, watching as the boys faces drop at the sight of his hood falling, their eyes then switch to Charles, who also pushed down his hood. “We’ll like a paper, s’il te plait.”

The boys looked between one another in confusion before they handed the dark-haired boy a paper.

“Not to be rude but what you doing here?” One of the British boys asked as the other elbowed his side.

“Lando!” He whispered loudly.

“Wyatt – they shouldn’t be here. What if Y/n and Daniel–”

Pierre and Charles looks at one another at the mention of the boys names. These must be the ones that Arthur sneaks out to hang out with.

“Oh,” Pierre smiles, “we’ve met that Robin Hood friend of yours. Robbed us and everything.”

Wyatt looks into his hat with a frown, “clearly not well enough.”

Charles tucks the paper under his left arm.

Lando carefully looks around to see if anyone else has noticed the Prince and his Knight in training with them, he then leans forwards slightly to speak with them quietly. “Aramore doesn’t like your family very much, your highness,” Lando quips.

“But our Robin Hood and Little John have always held the highest of hatred for those in Eynsworth and spits at the names of the Leclerc’s who has wrong us all,” Wyatt continued off from Lando.

“My father is a good man,” Charles tries to convince the boy, perhaps even try and convince himself, but the two Aramore boys just shakes their heads with laughter.

“Suppose she is right after all. All you rich folks are as stupid as it comes.” Charles and Pierre share a look.

“But you met her?” Lando speaks up again. “Like you actually met her?”

They both nod.

“And she didn’t knock either of you out?” He watched the pair freeze. “Oh,” Lando pauses, “I only asked because of how much she hates your – your type. But Y/n isn’t a bad person. Sure, she’s made mistakes – but she’s a good person.”

“Thought you be more careful with sharing other’s names like that.”

Wyatt shrugs at Charles’ pointed look. “Don’t need to when the whole city now knows it,” he nods his head to the newspaper under Charles’ arms. “It’s the headline today – Y/n L/n and Daniel Riccardo are the Robin Hood and Little John. The King doesn’t want this shared with the whole world yet though, perhaps that’s the smartest thing he’s ever asked.”

“So the mole has already told my father?”

Wyatt only shrugs.

“You two should really leave though,” Lando stutters out slightly. “Aramore won’t be safe for either of you and when night comes it will only become even more dangerous.”

“It is a full moon,” Wyatt smiles and now Lando elbows his side.

“Dude!”

“What?!”

“You saying that werewolves be out tonight?” Pierre laughs slightly. “Ah, werewolves don’t exist.”

Lando and Wyatt share a look.

“Just,” Lando starts again, “just return to your castle, your highnesses’.”

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

(As long as anyone could remember, it has always been the Leclerc’s throning their land, but it is to be known that they aren’t all as bad as Raphaël and Anna, in fact, they are the only two that anyone could remember being so terrible. His father was a good man – a good King who died far too soon, and then there was Raphaël’s older brother, but no one can remember what happened to him, one moment he was there preparing to be King himself, and the next thing they heard was that he left and wouldn’t be returning and that Raphaël shall be King instead.

Many things crumbled when Raphaël become King, our Robin Hood was about two years old when life become worst, never seeing what life was like before, only knew them from the stories others would tell her, and those stories sketched the idea of revolution into her brain, one could argue that it’s always been in her blood and all she needed was a single lit match to guide her to see it.

So, for as long as she could remember, she always had a desire for revolution, to overthrow Raphaël Leclerc in any way possible and bring back the life that only her ears were ever blessed with hearing. Bring back the world where one shouldn’t be afraid that in a matter of a second they could be stabbed, or questioning if that snap of a twig was a person following them instead of an innocent deer, and even bring back the world where everyone isn’t just waiting for another war too happen.

She wants to bring back the world where others were seen more as equals, the world where the poor was being helped and weren’t clinging onto their last seconds of life, and the world where the rich weren’t so greedy and treacherous and kissed the ground for a man who usurped the crown.

Robin Hood was the people’s only hope. She robbed from the rich to feed the poor. She was beloved by all people from England, and by the age of twelve, she was known and loved in other countries. Robin and her best mate Little John – also known as Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo – are found hidden in Aramore, one of England’s poorest town’s.

King Raphaël has heard rumours on this information, but it is yet to be confirmed to the rich if it she truly awaits in Aramore.

You know, there’s been a heap of legends and tall tales about our Robin Hood. All different too. Well, fellow readers, here is the true version).

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

“This is the story of how I died.”

“Y/n!” Daniel shoved the younger girl’s shoulder who was left chuckling at the frozen states of youngster’s with their mouths wide open.

“How can you be dead?” One questioned, tilting their head. “You look alive.”

“Because she is.” Daniel gave a short glare to his best friend before turning his head to beam at the kids. “She just messing with you,” he elbows her side. “Jokester this one.” The children looked between the two. “Now, Y/n, tell the real story.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “this one is more boring though – Once Upon A Time…”

(Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo weren’t originally from Eynsworth, instead they were from a town called Neverland – which was a small island in the region of the Harsano Islands. They were both raised in an orphanage that was ran by some very cruel people. They all evacuated though when their country got overtaken by Raphaël.

They all escaped to England; Y/n was just nine).

The Orphanage – The Lost Boys – were a worldly known orphanage that many thought to be a good, well-run place, instead, for the children that lived there, it was like a game of survival. Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo were always trouble, even back then, both being secretly taught how to survive by a woman who was only meant to teach them English, but instead she was their mentor for fighting, how to use a bow and arrow, and basic survival skills.

It happened away from eyes that would hurt them terribly if they ever discovered the truth, whether that was children that will tell on them or if it was Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil themselves catching sight of this little self-made club.

Growing up, they were taught on how to be everything wrong – in the eyes of the owners it was everything right – with being raised with the wrong thoughts of the poor and how they should be mistreated, that creatures out there should be killed, and even the fact that if one isn’t hurt then they will never learn.

Children shouldn’t have parents, and they shouldn’t grow up either.

They shouldn’t know how to survive in the real world, and they shouldn’t be able to protect themselves.

Y/n was told she was wrong in the way she thought, that children have a mind of their own, and that they will all grow up and leave Pan and Cruella here in this huge building alone – Pan didn’t like what the six-year-old was telling him, not one bit, so in front of everyone’s eyes, he bashed a rock into the side of her head until she fell unconscious, only waking up at the feeling of a cold flannel being pressed against her head by Daniel and their mentor – Tania – checking her over.

She still carries that scar on the top of her head.

She was six years old when Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil saw her as their main target to hurt, Y/n didn’t mind though, as long as the other children were left unharmed, then she’ll carry as many scars that will tell her tale.

“My mother wasn’t a good person,” Y/n mentioned one day in her training, when she was just seven years old, Tania raised her brows in surprise that Y/n knew this, she wasn’t meant to know but here she was talking about it, “She – it was mentioned in my file.”

“You read your file?”

She nods. “I just wanted to know more about…I just wanted to find out–”

“No,” Tania shook her head. “You shouldn’t have looked at that.”

“I didn’t think it be bad,” Y/n frowned, looking down at her feet as she kicked a piece of gravel from the ground away. “Why did you agree to do this after what my – what she did? I could be the same, you know.”

“You aren’t,” Tania was quick to mention. “You aren’t the same and you never will be. Your mother was a bad person, I know this to be true. I know this as she was the one who slit my daughter’s throat. But if I’d seen even an ember of that cruelty in you I never would’ve agreed to mentor you,” Tania took a step forwards, rubbing a gentle thumb across Y/n’s cheek before holding her hands in a motherly hold. “She may have given birth to you, but she doesn’t get to decide who you become – you do that.”

“Was my father a better person at least.”

“He was one of the greatest men I have ever met, he just, he fell for the wrong person and death caught up with him sooner than we would have liked.” Tania squeezes the youngster’s hand. “He would have loved you and would been so proud of you.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n shrugs, “maybe not because if he was still alive then I wouldn’t be here, I would be living with him and I would be a different person.”

Y/n was still seven years old when there was news that Cruella’s new fur-coat belonged to the creature that she yells to all on how she believes they’re all bad, and all should be skinned alive, she never was quiet on her hatred for werewolves. It was still the same day when a friend of hers questioned her opinion on werewolves – Wyatt Poitier.

“Are they bad?” The girl shoots them a confused look. “Werewolves? Are they bad? Cruella says they are – says they deserve nothing but painful death. She always said that when she finds one, she will kill it, and wear it as a fur coat.”

Y/n doesn’t think they are. Not all at least. She knows a few, all nice and all just scared humans who have extreme attributes that the average human do not carry, and perhaps their even more terrified of themselves than others are of them, because each time the moon is full they must go through the painful transition that causes others to call them a monster.

However, she was never clueless on the horrifying one that lived over in England.

Her werewolves’ friends never asked to be who they are though, they never asked to be something people find only in their nightmares. Where once someone discovers that secret, most will treat them differently, will want their death to full upon them, and some will begin to silently judge them before a simple hello is ever spilled again.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t think they are. They’re just people who also happen to be wolves. Some are good. Some are bad. Just like people.”

“Pan agrees with Cruella.”

“Well,” Y/n sits up, and leans her back against her headboard of her bed. “They would say that when they’re just the same as the bad wolves.”

The two days before they evacuated to England, Y/n and Daniel’s mentor was found dead, the news the next day insisted she died from the fire of the orphanage burning from the children – but Y/n knew it couldn’t be right as she knew no one was left in the building when she lit the match to start the amber glow.

Y/n carried the belief that it was Pan, Cruella, and the King – who was seen in Neverland earlier that week.

Y/n was just nine when she escaped to England, and she was still only nine when she become the Robin Hood who had revolution fogging up her brain.

“And just at that moment, the ugly little frog looked up with his sad, round eyes, and pleaded, ‘oh, please dear princess, only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell.’” Y/n spoke to the kids as she told them a story she had memorised in her brain due to the amount of times the children of the orphanage read it to one another. “And–”

There was a sharp three knocks that echoed throughout the small, stoned room, all the kids that sat cross-legged on the ground whipped their heads round to look at the door, whilst only Daniel and Y/n had to lift their heads up a little. They all await for the handle of the door to be pulled down, but yet, it never does, not until Daniel calls out a “come in,” did the handle move and the door was pushed open ever so slightly, enough for young Wyatt to nervously poke his head in as he looked at the duo.

“Er,” he looked over his shoulder at something, “you two won’t like this but,” he looks at them again, “there’s a visitor for you,” he mutters before moving away and slamming the door shut.

The pair moved away from the self-crafted beanbags as they moved towards the door, ignoring the pleads from the children as they asked them to come back and finish the story. Daniel was quick to reassure them that they be back after they see who was outside. Slowly, the children moved from the floor and went off to play with some of the toys in the room.

The two slowly moved out of the door, but a hand was quick to land on Daniel’s chest as they tried to push him back into the room before he could even close the door behind him.

“Wyatt what are you-”

“Change of plans, they only want to see Y/n right now.” Wyatt whispers as he pushes Daniel back into the room whilst Wyatt followed closely behind, closing the door as he goes, leaving Y/n outside, hands on her hips as she squinted to try and find this visitor.

“This is ridiculous where is,” her eyes fall on a slightly taller figure standing in front of her, her face scrunches up in disgust. “What are you doing back here?”

The figure removes his hood.

“I’ll keep my hood up if I were you, don’t want anyone to pass by and see who you are.” She utters as she takes a look around to see if anyone was close by whilst he pulls his hood back over his head. “I thought I told you earlier that you should return back to your castle. And where’s that friend of yours? Not out here is he? Better not be causing any trou– ”

Charles rolls his eyes. “He’s with the horses.” His fingers nervously reach to the side of his cloak, running up and down the steam of it as he looked at the girl in front. “I wanted to come back and apologise.” Y/n raised a brow. “Look, I just think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Well, I think we did too.”

“Okay–”

“But I appreciate your apology.”

“Apology?” Charles breathlessly laughs before scrunching his face up. “Who said anything about an apology? I was just saying–”

“Please don’t talk anymore, okay?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to look away from him. “It’s only going to upset me.”

“Well you have already me upset so–”

“Is this about robbing you?” She turns to look at him, hands dropping to her side before raising her right hand to gesture towards him. “Come on, like that’s going to hurt your bank account.”

Charles chose to ignore this as he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, he held it out for Y/n to take.

“So you wouldn’t shake my hand, but you’ll happily hand me things?”

“Your really annoying, has anyone ever told you that?”

She pinches the other side of the envelope, leaving it to dangle down as she held it from a corner. “What is this?”

“Real mature–”

“Hey if you didn’t want to shake my hand, then I don’t even want to touch you.” She eyes the golden colour of it, it almost matching her reward posters. There was no cursive writing addressing to who it was for, but it did have the blue royal stamp sealing it shut. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at it, but she should have guessed it was an envelope from the Leclerc’s due to it being handed to her by one.

As she ignores the colour of the envelope, she notices, without much surprise, that it was made of high-quality paper with a slightly rough feel to it – it wasn’t like the recycled stuff with bits in it like the people of Aramore use. It was just thick and heavy like letters from hundred of years ago.

Well, it be no shock if they were still using material for letters that they once did many times ago, the rich liked the traditional, they weren’t ones for big changes, so it should come to no shock that their paper felt like a rich metal, or that they weren’t even with the times and recycling their paper.

“I wanted to give you one,” Charles shrugs. “I thought it be a nice thing to do and–”

“This isn’t going to be the leading cause to my death is it?”

His eyes widen, “I hope not.” He responds in French, watching as Y/n’s face scrunches up from not understanding a word he just said. “Oh,” he frowns slightly, “I said I hope not.”

She clicks her tongue at the root of her mouth as she continues to eye the envelope and the boy in front. “Can you go now?” She questions, and before she could even watch if he does leave this time or not, she was already heading back inside to the small room she once was in, coming face-to-face with an annoyed Daniel and a Wyatt wouldn’t stop shifting on his feet.

“What’s that?” Daniel points to the thing that was still pinched in between Y/n’s thumb and forefinger.

“Poison,” she mutters, still eyeing it up in disgust.

“O-Oh, Y/n,” Wyatt stutters, “You must go,” The duo’s brows knitted together at Wyatt’s wording as they watched his eyes lit up at the sighting of what she was pinching. “You must! It be an amazing opportunity for you and, oh, Y/n, you can’t run forever; he’ll find you one day,” Wyatt warned. “Just go and have some fun and do what you do best; steal.”

“Who says I’m running?” Y/n lets out a scoff, which was slightly merged into an airy laugh too, “I’ve been here for the last five years, and if he ever gets the courage to come for me, I’ll still be right here.”

She understood that Wyatt must have figured out that this was from the royals, and by he, he must mean the King, and perhaps Wyatt thought this was a letter personally from the King, and maybe he believed this letter was going to mend everything.

But it wasn’t – that only happens in fairytales.

“But Y/n–”

Her finger slides underneath the lip of the envelope, tearing it open. She watches how the royal blue stamp that had a golden rose engraved onto it and is then surrounded with an aureate circular frame, splits into a near perfect half.

She tugs the folded black card out; she then holds it in one hand whilst the other crushes the envelope into a ball.

With her other hand, her thumb slips up from the bottom of the card, pressing down on the lined spine to open it up. Swiftly falling down like snow on a winter’s morning came two glistening silver and black tickets. The silver glitter littered across it shimmered like those elegant mirror balls found hanging from those darkened ceilings, producing thousands of different circular lights around the room.

She ignores them, but Daniel doesn’t as he bends down to collect them, eyes widening just like his friend’s as they read the same word, however one read it from the tickets, and the other read from the letter itself.

You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.

References (in order of appearances): reference to chicken little || reference to tangled || reference to swan princess || reference to robin hood || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to 101 dalmatians || reference to the princess and the frog || reference to anastasia ||

Detailed References and Taglist found in reblog Likes/Reblogs/Comments always appreciated along with any ideas one may have as this very long series proceed.

Act One Masterlist//Character Profiles//Playlist

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