#ikepri brutal beast

[clavissionary-position]

Chevalier

[stellaepluviae]

damn you cybird.....you and your blondies really got me in a chokehold.......

[judesmoonbeauty]

Chev’s voiced Ch 1 CG

Never thought I’d hear him threaten me like this 🥹

There are more lines for his CG, but I didn’t want the video to be lengthy 😉

[daisiesandshakes]

Clavis: We need to distract the guards.

Chevalier: Right.

Clavis: So, what are you going to do?

Chevalier: I am going to kill them all. That ought to distract them.

[annaliessse]

Soooo.... I made Chevalier in character.ai and...

😭😭😭😭

[nightghoul381]

This is so beautifully written!!! What is it about Chev that seems to draw out the inner poet of all who write him?

Hi, i see your Chevalier fics and I love it so much. Could you do one again? If you're not busy hehe

I was thinking about his route where MC had fallen asleep beside him and woke up beside Chevalier. What do you think Chevalier was thinking after witnessing mC had fallen asleep beside him. Something like that hehe

Home

Chevalier/Reader Fluff WC: 283 A/N: It's been so long since I've read Chevalier's route and can't recall this scene very well - so I went about my own twist on it and did something a little diferent. I hope that was okay! :) And for once I took some inspo from a song I was listening to.

A California King bed was what it sounds like; a lavish plush of mattress fit for a king that seemed to go on for miles. Once bared empty and hallow, with the constant threat of death knocking at the door, was now warm and comfortable with the companionship of your ethereal beauty resting peacefully by his side. A romantic at heart, he never dare allow it evidently to lay present in the sea of sheets before. Chest to chest, nose to nose, palm to palm, how simple yet intimate it felt to be so close. To find comfort in the heaven sent seemed otherworldly to experience it firsthand; was he even worthy to bask in the holy light of innocence and purity when he was anything but? His hands were tainted and ruined by blood from the lives that'll never see the light of day once more. Never get to hold their loved ones again like he had the honor of doing; maybe some guilt from realizing his emotions did lay dormant in the void of his mind. The guilt of being this incredibly lucky, he'd happily bathe in holy water if it meant his sins could be repented. He never made rash decisions that wouldn't be the betterment of the nation - some innocent would have to fall. But because of you, he's realized from the flutter of your eyelashes twitching in your sleep that perhaps there were better ways at managing the forthcoming future. And it laid in the palms of your sleeping embrace. To have you, to hold you, to cherish you from dusk until dawn. And at that same given moment, her pure eyes open to stare into his soul and give him salvation. " He reached for her and he saw her smile and the voices melded into a single word from God: Home. " - Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

taglist; @nightghoul381, @yvelk, @celiciaa, @drachonia, @aquagirl1978, @here-for-gilbert, @alvieeru, @scummy-writes, @randonauticrap, @maries-gallery, @misty-moth, @violettduchess

[janumun]

Obsidian Retribution (IkePri Gilbert von Obsidian - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ 🌶️ Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian/Reader Words: ~4k

Tags: developing/denial of feelings, church desecration/sex, vaginal fingering, minor violence, spoilers for Gilbert’s route (chapter 9), re-telling of canon events, angst 

Summary: What happens when you throw yourself into harm’s way in a bid to protect Gilbert at one of Clavis’ covert anti-monarchy meetings? Unconsciously stirring out the whetted fangs of the Conqueror Beast. 

And you witness, once more, just how scathingly cruel his desire for monopoly over your body truly is.

A/N: I’m currently in the midst of Gilbert’s route but he’s been such a flowing inspiration and need that I had to write this indulgent piece for him, for myself and the five other Gil fans out there who would cry with me LOL.  

Characterization might not be accurate to end route Gil, as I’m at the beginning of his route still, so this is written with my understanding of an early Gilbert. ILOVETHISMANSOMUCH. 

The lethal sweep of the blade engulfs your vision entirely, the noble’s hand poised right above his shoulder — a strike you know you cannot avoid. Your life, as if you view it through the distant barrier of a panorama, right before it’s extinguished.  

The sole knowledge that you do not regret your actions one bit, your one solace, eyes drifting shut, that one moment of death stretching slow and long.  

A glacial whisper, of knelling death curls into your ears, “I do not recall allowing you permission to die by another’s hand,” His only pre-emptive warning, just before Gilbert grips a harsh hand about your neck and hurls you backwards— 

“Belle!” Into Luke’s body as he catches you against himself right before you careen straight into the ground. 

A whimpered groan breaks into the air right after; your whirling head, catching its bearings just enough to catch sight of Gilbert standing above the writhing figure of your would-be assailant, bunched at the ground. The sharp end of the perpetrator’s blade — now within Gilbert’s hand — he brings up in a vicious arc, surely in murderous intent. 

“Prince Gilbert, don’t!” Your voice breaks in terror into the air, before the knife is able to find home within its pitiful target.  

His hand, fortunately, halts just before it slits through the noble’s carotid, the latter long having fainted in mind-numbing fear, unable to bear the single-focused brutality of the conqueror beast.  

Gilbert raises his face as if operated via a puppeteer's strings, cut before it could fulfil its performance. Garnet gaze, sweeping slow, before it finds its next victim, within you. Your breath frosts within your lungs, incapable of function, the vicious weight of his terrifying visage subjecting you to his splintering displeasure, despite the cruel smile that remains even now, firm in place. “What is it, little rabbit? Are you begging me to kill you instead?”  

“Prince Gilbert!” You hear Luke entreat, as if from afar.  

A volatile shiver cascades down your spine at the look he’s giving you, thinly veiled revulsion and rage within that sole scarlet eye.  

Gilbert takes a step toward you; your breaths coming in short, staccato bursts and yet you’re unable to turn away from the hungering violence within that gaze. Scurrying thoughts unable to comprehend why exactly he seemed so incensed at you.  

“Come now, out with it. I know you wish to say something to me.” Gilbert offers you an encouraging smile, even as the murderous intent radiating from him with each step he takes forward, threatens to smother you entirely.  

You know what he wishes to hear in that moment, of no mind to hear your own thoughts on the matter. An apology, for your actions, reckless, they may have been, but you do not hold an ounce of regret for trying to protect the man that continues to disconcert your heart; sink his dark trellises deeper into your soul. 

“Prince Gilbert, I—”  

The stifling pressure in the room, cut through only upon Clavis’ interruption, just as he steps into the room to offer a jaunty congratulations to Gilbert for providing an entertaining show.  

The weight of his gaze flees entirely from you, your body — you did not realize you’d held steadfast by sheer force of will — collapses back against Luke’s comforting presence, just as he hauls you up and into his arms, to carry you back. 

“Aren’t you a lucky one?” Gilbert’s cheery voice drifts, discomfiting against your retreating back. 

“Prince Gilb—” 

 “Take care you don’t let me catch sight of you again, or I might just kill you.” Your heart thrums in confounding pain at his words, the clear line he carves in between the two of you in that moment.  

Your mouth unable to form sufficient words to try and catch his attention just as Gilbert turns away from you entirely, the soft flitter of his cape as he does, the last sight you capture of him, as Luke carries you away from the scene. 

 

The longcase clock at the end of hallway has long struck midnight. You continue to pace, restless, about the corridor. Eyes cemented upon the window, affording you a clear view of the castle gates as you stake your agitated wait for Gilbert’s return.  

Luke and you had returned a few hours back, to the castle in a private carriage. You’d run into Rio as soon as you’d alighted, almost immediately after, being carted in between the two men as they’d fussed you straight into the infirmary. The good part of the hour after, spent in making sure you were truly unhurt save for the minor scrap at your arms.  

It was only multiple reassurances later and holding Rio back from charging deep into the night after Gilbert, did you escape from the fretful affections of your friends and out, to await Gilbert’s return.  

His expression returns to your mind’s eye in vivid detail; the way that cold, scarlet gaze had zoned in on you, the shuttered intensity of violent rage underneath. It was as if you’d been looking upon a stranger.  

Now that you’d had a few quiet moments to compose yourself away from the fright of your earlier situation, bone-deep remorse was beginning to settle within, at having displeased Gilbert the way you did. A forced companionship he may have forged in between you two, but the startling glimpses of his kindness that lurked beneath the serrated edge of his cool blades, had your heart shred asunder between fear, rationale and genuine care. You couldn’t deny it, not after tonight. You had, perhaps, grown to care for Prince Gilbert, far more than was ever appropriate. 

The soft whinnying of horses disturbing the quiet of the night outside drags you out of your reverie just in time to catch sight of Gilbert’s figure descending the carriage.  

You begin your rush towards the main entrance, but instead of making his way into the castle, Gilbert’s steps veered off towards a path leading to what seemed to be, the back of the castle.  

You fly down the winding staircase and into the foyer, heart battering against your chest. Pulling open the great doors to the entrance before you dart after his retreating figure that is a mere speck in the distance, now.  

You do not want to lose sight of him. You must see Gilbert tonight and make him listen to what you have to say. Despite your fears, you do not wish to abandon Gilbert with the notion that you did not care. Even beneath the carving of a beast, he was just a human too. A man who’d come so close to bordering a rapidly diminishing line in between friend and foe.  

Up ahead, Gilbert ducks past belting cobblestone, headed in the direction of what seems to be the structure of an old church. You frown, thoughts wrought with questions you know you’d get no easy answers for.  

The tapering sweep of his cape disappears just past the great, carved wooden doors of the church, and you too follow, on tentative, urgent steps, slipping through the entrance and into the church.  

It sits empty, save for the dark figure of the man standing motionless, close to the pulpit.  

“I didn’t think you were foolish enough to come chasing after me even after I warned you not to.” Gilbert’s voice drifts eerie in its calm, down the long hallway, even as you trudge closer on careful steps. “Tell me, is it that pure kindness of yours which feels for every living being, or an empty head that has dragged you this far into the beast’s den?”  

Gilbert’s words are scathing, deliberately cruel, meant to burn. You have not heard him utilize that tone of voice with you in so long. 

“Well then,” he prods; voice, sweet poison. “Are you going to answer me or shall I make you answer me?” 

You drift further into the church on uneasy steps, the great doors behind sway shut behind you in a creak of finality, as if knelling of an ill-fated decision. Against all wise sense, however — your heart insists you do — you tread towards the man who stands waiting, at the end of the long, carpeted hallway.

A poised form; his head at an easy cant, a crinkled garnet eye fixated upon your foolish movements — you do not miss the incessant, muted tap of gloved digits across the flared bulb of his cane, an uncharacteristic agitation to his visage, you’re not used to witnessing on Gilbert. He stands, all obsidian, against the backdrop of watered twilight that filters in shafts past great, ornate windows on either sides of the quiet hallway — as though he is a devil awaiting the willing scurry of a sacrifice right into its willing maw.  

You grit your teeth against the frightening intimidation he’s settled deep into your bones, a festering cloak he’s had thrown over in between you, warning you to stop prying deeper into his affairs. “I want to speak to you, Prince Gilbert.”  

“Oh? What if I do not wish to listen, little rabbit?”  

“Then, I insist you hear me out.” The cutting streak of his blade is so swift, you only but feel the soft stir of your hair about your face before your breath frosts within your windpipe at the deadly edge of the sword he holds against the careful swallow of your throat.  

“You really do wish to die by my hand tonight. What an utterly insipid way to cut my fun short, Belle.” 

You force yourself to hold your ground, even as the first tremors of fear crumple across your limbs. “I don’t want you to kill me.” Compelling courage to rise in the face of his raw vitriolic anger, you wish to parse the reason for his distress. “I only want to know why you are so angry with me.”  

A serrated smile tugs across his mouth. “Do you ask because you really do not know?” 

“I don’t. And I don’t think I did anything to warrant your unjust ire either.” 

“Unjust...” he murmurs. “You would’ve realized it if you took but a single moment to think.” 

Your mind takes his words and works about them in a million different ways. “I realize my actions were reckless...” 

“That is a good start.” the sardonic amusement of his voice does not reach his eyes.  

“But I do not regret my actions, Prince Gilbert. I...” you swallow around words that are sudden lead within your throat. “I do not think I could bear to see you get hurt.”  

The admission uttered on soft, firm words; stews dense within the space in between you both. Gilbert's lone scarlet gaze, watches you, motionless as the terse silence stretches taut into several excruciating moments.  

Before he gathers his blade back into its secreted scabbard once more, beneath the cloak at his waist — your breath escaping you on a rush of relieved air, you did not even know how tensed you’d held your body, until its released from the grip of Gilbert’s dread, with the withdrawal of his blade. The Obsidianite prince turns on his heel, the flourish of his great, dark cape behind, as he moves to seat himself in the first pew. He does not look back at you as he instructs, “Come.”  

And you follow, without a word of complaint uttered; know that you tread in dangerous waters. A single, wrong move, and you’d miss your window of opportunity with Gilbert entirely. His emotions would be shuttered off to you, once and for all, were you to lose your nerve now and flee from him. Despite how part of your heart still tremored within his presence, how you still couldn’t help doubt each single edge of his kindness so deeply steeped within his malice; hope still sprouted within you regardless. Willing to gamble upon the Gilbert you often times caught glimpse of; one who’s consideration did not come attached with its poisonous strings.  

You shift on anxious steps once you’re in front of him, Gilbert’s gaze, mildly muted of its ire when he fixes it upon you. “Your impulsive actions could’ve cost you dearly tonight.” He begins.  

“Impulsive, yes... but even if I had stopped to think, Prince Gilbert, I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t afford to see me hurt, yes, I heard that silly part the first time you spoke it, little rabbit.” he reiterates.  

You clam up on yourself. 

“You could’ve died. Did you stop to think how much the mere thought of your demise irked me?” He angles the head of his cane, to tap against your hip, gesturing you closer.  

And just as you steal close within arm’s length, Gilbert’s gloved digits are curving about your arm in a vice, hauling you down to topple onto his lap. His murmur’s a warm caress against the shell of your ear. “I would’ve hated it if you’d died.”  

Your mind careens into a rash halt of all thoughts, blanking entirely at the quiet certitude of those words. 

“...What?”  

“Foolish, isn’t it?” His smile is wide, undisturbed across his face. Just as transient as the surface of a pond, subject to be disturbed by the slightest of ripples. “Even when I despise you so, Belle, I cannot let you go.” 

“Prince Gilbert...” 

Your mind cannot parse the meaning of his words. If this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d have understood him to mean he did not wish for his prey to be ‘impaired�� by another. Gilbert had told you so, on several occasions and in no less than explicit terms.  

However, now as you look upon Gilbert; emotions naked, unlike you’ve ever seen before. Jagged enough they could cut you through if you dared try wade in deeper. Into the insinuation barely concealed behind that sole garnet gaze.  

The arch of his cane steers a slow caress over the shirt at your chest, before it dents into a stop right above your heart. Gilbert presses in, insisting the polished head against the give of your left breast — your heart seeming to catch at the hook of it with how it seizes at the motion. “This right here could’ve stopped,” he mulls, almost clinically. The insouciant inflection of his voice disarming at the last careful barriers and inhibitions, thrown up in protection of your heart. “I am human too, you know, mere flesh and bone. I cannot be there to protect you each time that heart of yours decides it wishes to do good to all, regardless of their status as man or beast.”  

“Prince Gil—” Your voice fractures into a pained gasp, just as he seizes the fingers you reach out for him, sinking a sharp bite around a vulnerable digit. You clench back further signs of weakness with the slow, aching sweep of his tongue against your captured fingers; the teeth that worry at tender skin, pinching another warning at your approach. And reach out, again, with your other palm. Succeeding in curving your fingers about his cool cheek in a tentative touch up the line of it. Thumbing gentle right beneath the cusp of a surprised gaze, singular scarlet disarmed by the tender action. Before it crinkles in mild resignation, half rebuke, “You truly are a fool.”  

Gilbert tucks his face against your cradling palm, further allowing you slack, to temper at the beast that has — for the moment — lowered its great head to you. That is all the victory you need from him at the moment, for him to pay heed to you for the words you wish to communicate. “I’m sorry.”  

The apology rings piercing in the quiet space, Gilbert’s gaze unrelenting in the long stretch of time that seems to trudge slow in between you both, the longer he lets those two words stew.  

Pink tongue darting out a nervous path to slick moisture at long dry lips, “I’m sorry for not thinking my actions through and for not treasuring myself more in the moment. I realize that upset you greatly and I apologize for that, Prince Gilbert.”  

He remains silent throughout your confession uttered, red gaze, and a gloved hand, tracing a deliberate path across your chest, right above your heart. You know he can feel the moment it thrums faster, beneath his welcome touch — why, why do you not hate Gilbert touching you? — gliding its exploration across the space. “Will you promise not to do what you have today, again?”  

The thought of uttering a cosy lie, flitters through your mind for a split moment of relapsed judgement. Before fizzling in on itself; you know well how Gilbert despises untruths spoken, no matter how small. Would know, were you to try offer false placations. And so, you opt for the bitter truth — one you too, realize with a jolt of realization, “I... cannot promise you that.”  

His eye rolls up to meet yours, the sharp edge to it, you swallow against, as if he has a phantom blade pressed to your throat once more. “For as much as I deeply regret the trouble I’ve caused you, I know I’d hate it even more were something to happen to you.” 

“Those are dangerous fantasies to harbour for a prince of your enemy nation.” A muted smile graces his features; a dark gloved thumb he brings to trace at your lower lip, delicately disengaging it from the worrying bite of your teeth. As if he, too, hadn’t confessed so, in less clearer words, not too long before. A dangerous game you two play; you don’t wish to disentangle the throttling wad of your emotions tonight.  

“Well, that’s too bad then, I guess, because those are my true feelings, Prince Gilbert.” You stare back, resolute.  

His smile quivers in mild amusement. “I know.”  

“And I’m willing to do anything to show my sincerity, if it gets you to accept my heartfelt apology.” 

That garnet gaze shutters, taking on a hard edge at your words; the burbling shadows of darkness that catch just beneath that smiling veneer before it vanishes entirely. “You’re playing a treacherous game here, little rabbit, one that will unfortunately end in futility, no matter how hard you try.” His smile grows wider, until you’re seeing the flash of teeth in it. “Nothing you do or say can ever change the positions you and I stand in. So, tell me once more.” A firm arm curls about your waist, heaving you flush against the cold, clothed expanse of Gilbert’s chest, a stifled gasp leaving you at the motion. “You’re not silly enough to not understand the true implications of your offer, are you?”  

Your next breath quivers out of you. “...I am not.” Your fingers snag awkwardly at the regal collar of his mantle, sinking into the soft fur lining the edges. “I wholeheartedly wish to make amends.” And you pitch your head forwards, the tentative kiss you touch against Gilbert’s cold lips has you shuddering in his embrace. “I can’t promise you what you want but I can convey my honest remor—”  

His hand slinks into the catch of your hair, hauling you back towards him in a kiss of cool desire, mouth moving against yours in a manner, it leaves you flushed and breathless by the time Gilbert parts from you on a wet, sultry sound. A hand he cups about your jaw, thumb denting at your chin in measured strokes. You tip your mouth, catching the edge of his glove in between your teeth to tug, slow. Deliberate. Curving your hands about his, in aid, before you wrest the glove off his hand entirely. Moving to discard it behind, at your feet.  

Gilbert’s bared hand moves to curve about the flare of your hip; a patient squeeze he applies to the flesh beneath. His other hand he extends in silent instruction for you to de-glove before you comply without question. You tremble above him in need, his simmering gaze more than making up for the cold you feel permeating through the thin cloth of your dress. “Go on,” he encourages. “You’re going to work for it, aren’t you?”  

Your breath heaves with the slow rise of your chest, hand stealing past the stiff collar of his cape to settle your fingers at the side of his neck, tracing hesitant pads down the line of it. “You’re so cold.”  

His lashes sweep shut over his eye at your touch, canting his head further into the warmth of your palm; a figure he paints so lovely, you know this empyrean visage is what you’d always envisioned within your mind’s eye when you used to read about kings and princes within your happy fairytales, long before in a time that seems so far into the past now. “You should warm me, then. Show me you’re capable of it.” 

Sinking a vexed bite into your lip — adamant on proving yourself right — you hoist your knee awkwardly onto the narrow seat. Gilbert’s hands immediately flit to curve their supports against your behind and lift, just as your other knee too, settles by his thigh, effectively straddling him. Your breaths stopper momentarily within your throat with the expectant lift of his gaze, palms squeezing softly against your pliant flesh. Your hands fly towards the flow of your dress before you slip the material up against your thighs, deliberately exposing your bare skin to his gaze.  

Gilbert's eye flashes; molten steel bleeding into the gaze, before one of his hands steal past the edge of your still rising dress and in between your legs to glance a searing touch in between your drenched folds, right above your underwear. You gasp at the euphoric sensation, hips lurching against his hand on instinct, trying to capture it deeper into you.  

He indulges you — perhaps he feels particularly merciful in that one moment of whimsy — the pad of his forefinger re-tracing its path in between your folds. Before his thumb tucks aside the edge of your underwear, to slide index and middle in a slow, torturous path across the bare flesh from hood to base. Teasing the cool tips of them just into your entrance. Your body flares in mortified need to feel your wetness gush onto his fingers at that mere testing touch.  

His eye rolls up to meet yours, the smile that lingers at his lips, immensely pleased. “You’re very warm here.” Propelling his fingers, slow, up into your clenching walls. “It’s almost as if you’re running a fever, little rabbit.” You moan against him, with each deliberate thrust, the pads of his digits finding your weakest spot frighteningly quick, to scrape repetitive, at the soft flesh. “Do you think I’d be just as hot were I to settle deep into your place here?”  

Your hips judder against his fingers at those words, grazing the heel of his palm against the neglected bead at your apex, sending fire soaring through your body at that split moment of contact. Your soft, soughing sound of need breaks into the air, body gyrating down against that searing point of contact, in rhythm with the leisured thrust of his fingers into your spasming walls.  

Before Gilbert, cruelly, siphons the heat from you entirely at the cusp of release, fingers pried out of you to drift up against his mouth. He sweeps his tongue against his drenched digits, copious arousal dripping past his wrist to soak into the pristine cloth at his thigh. “Sweet thing,” he hums, just as you flush further underneath his piercing touch.  

And before you can manoeuvre your weak limbs for much else — mind so hazed in its lust addled state, you’re not sure what’s happening — Gilbert’s free hand is stealing about the curve of your spine. Pressing you down against the firm, hard strength of exposed flesh; the smooth head of him bumping about your nub to have you keening into the touch. Spine arching the rest of the way forwards without the coaxing of his hand, so he slips just past your entrance; fingers spasming into his shoulders at the stretch. You rock against that pleasurable almost burn for several, excruciating moments, in and out — surface thrusts — head falling back against your shoulders.  

Gilbert throws his hand about your body, fingers splaying just beneath the wings of your shoulder-blades, hauling your coasting body to hold firm, against his. “Don’t lose yourself now, little rabbit. You have yet to satisfactorily apologize.” Tempting your body down into his lap until he’s propelled, at last, into your drenched walls, a rapid sigh issued from Gilbert’s lips at the sensation.  

Your body quickly warming his into yours — the shape and stretch of him has you nearly faint with desire. “I’m sorry,” you croon on your first roll upon him. “I-I’m so sorry.” Grinding him up into your walls as deeply as you are able, the unyielding strength of him so numbing within your body. Even inside you, connected this intimately, Gilbert von Obsidian must have his own way with you.  

And you’ve let him do so, for so long; at his beck and call, thrown to his tender mercies. And yet, your mind had gone and coddled unfathomable emotions for him within its bosom. He'd gotten past your defences, just as he’d promised; crawling tendrils underneath your skin, into your frenzied beating heart, deep into your mind, until he occupied every thought along with each waking breath of yours. And your tiny victory lay in the knowledge that perhaps, you too had chipped a small chunk past that obsidian armour and carved a shallow wound at his skin, of your name.  

“I’m sorry for angering you, Gilbert.” You weep upon his length, hips driving fast towards a swift approaching release. 

“You are, aren’t you?” He breathes, hands catching at your waist to aid your movements upon him. “I’ll forgive you. And I’ll forgive you for neglecting to speak my proper title too, Belle, since I’m the one who has ruined you.” His smile is almost sweet, pleasant upon his face as he looks up at you — you drink that saccharine poison down almost fervidly. “You’re allowed to be remiss this once, because we are friends.”  

He’s driving, hard, into you — powerful enough the pew beneath you creaks with the propulsions — at an angle that has him brushing hot against your swollen nub in blinding strokes, just at the cusp of release, threatening to overflow. “So, call me Gil instead, when we are alone. I shall permit it, for you. Say it now.” 

Your body breaks, spasming into a release so violent, your entire body shudders above him. “Gil.” You sob out loud, your arms he coaxes about the strength of his shoulders. Fingers you sink into the soft fur of his mantle to ground yourself, just as Gilbert’s warmth follows soon after into your quivering walls. “I-I’m sorry, Gil.” 

A breathless, flushed grin, Gilbert von Obsidian buries against your mouth before he speaks. “Apology accepted, little rabbit.” 

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here.

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter.

[dotster001]

Yandere Chevalier headcanon please 🥺

Summary:Chevalier x gn! Reader

CW: yandere,physical harm to reader, murder, psychological harm to reader, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, blood, isolation, food and water deprivation, probably more but consider yourself warned

A/N: idk how dark you expected it to be, but this is the brutal beast we're talking about so.... also! I have an in progress series where I look at the Yan journey of ikepri characters after their routes, so if eventually there is a fic that is very similar to this, think of it as a rough draft

When he falls, he falls hard. Not that you'll ever know. To you, he'll always look unfeeling and cruel. Most days you can't help but wonder if he hates you. But it's so far from the truth. For the first time, he's filled with love and warmth. And it's so overwhelming that he doesn't know what to do with himself.

He tries to let you live free for a while. After all, he would fight to the death if someone held him under lock and key. For a while he's successful. Until one day, in his distraction over you, an assassination attempt gets a little too close to you. You aren't hurt. But you find yourself drenched in blood as Chev runs the assailant through. Your haunted face is revealed as the body in front of him crumples. And he realizes that he can't leave you on your own. Not if he's going to be a part of your life.

He thinks he is fine with your hatred. After all, he loves you, and that's what matters. He can't expect you to love him back, not when you're chained to the headboard of his bed. He's used to people fearing and hating him. And yet he's beginning to feel a new feeling. A new, nasty, aching feeling in his chest. When he holds you and all you do is whimper, the ache worsens.

And people begin to notice. Chev, king, and master of his countenance, is cranky. Only Clavis and Sariel know the truth, and while Clavis is initially amused, eventually, even he needs his boss to get back to normal. So, it's not very gentlemanly, but he places a book, that's been secretly popular in the town, on Chevalier's desk unceremoniously. A dark romance, where the love interest succumbs to Stockholm syndrome and falls for their captor. It wasn't an openly popular book, but someone had to be purchasing all those books.

Chevalier had scoffed at his brother's gift, initially thinking it was a joke. But upon further inspection, he realized it was a piece offering. A genuine gift. A piece of advice. If anyone could psychologically break a darling into submission, it would be him.

And he does. It's not perfect submission, he still wants you to be you, but it's enough that you grow dependent on him. Just as before, you can't be sure if he loves you or hates you. And that's the crux of his control over you. If you're good, he'll heave a heavy sigh and give you affection. If you're bad, it will be like you don't even exist in his world. You are dirt. Dust. A bug beneath his feet. Only good darlings get love. Just like every other fool in his life, you're a pawn in his game. You just happen to be a fool that makes him feel butterflies in his stomach.

He doesn't like to hurt you physically. But he will if he has to. Nothing too damaging, part of your appeal is your aesthetic, after all. But if you do something stupid like think you can escape (and all you have to do is think it. He always knows) he might slap you, or hit you with a riding crop. If you make it a step outside of the room, he won't hurt you. But someone you love will be killed right in front of you. And you will be tasked with cleaning it up. If you somehow make it farther than step outside the room (aka, he lets you as a trust test) prepare to be isolated in a cold damp dungeon cell for as long as it takes for you to pass out from lack of food or water. Then he'll nurse you back to health so that all your mind sees is how kind and doting he is.

You can't win against the brutal beast. Geniuses have tried and failed. And one day, when you no longer have the foolish urge to fight him, when the prey finally recognizes it has lost, he might tell you he loves you.

[writingwhimsey]

For your follow celebration, could you do Clavis and Chev reaction to MC asking to be bred, please?

And congratulations on the milestone!

Thank you for the ask! I hope this quenches your thirst!

400 Follower Celebration

Smut/NSFW Headcanon prompt: Suitor reacts to MC/reader asking to be bred

Suitors: ikepri Clavis & Chevalier

Warnings: NSFW 18+ content, breeding, PIV

Clavis

“I…I wanna be bred.”

Clavis blinks as he looks down at you, lying beneath him. He had been teasing you sweetly, coaxing you into telling him your deepest desires. And when you finally blurted out what you really wanted…well it wasn’t what he had been expecting.

You blush and look away. “I knew I shouldn’t have said it…”

Clavis’s hand is on your cheek, guiding your gaze back to his. “Don’t feel ashamed for asking for what you want, little bunny.” He assures you. “I was just surprised…pleased, but surprised.”

Your eyes widen. “Pleased?”

Clavis grins at you and nods. “Yes. If you want to be my little breeding bunny, then I am happy to indulge you.” The next thing you know, your legs are up by your head and Clavis is pushing his cock deep into you.

You gasp and moan at just how DEEP he is. “Cl-Clavis…”

Clavis grins at you as he rests his hands on your thighs and gives them a squeeze. “Don’t worry little bunny, I’ll breed you. Fill you up until you think you can’t take it anymore.” He tells you. “And then this beast will fill you again and again, until I’m certain your womb is full.”

Clavis proceeds to pound into you until you are both cumming. He spends the night moving you into position after position, pumping you with load after load until you are both utterly spent. He wraps his arms around you, holding you from behind, his cock still buried within you. “We’ll sleep like this tonight, little bunny. Keep my cum in you.” He says, kissing your shoulder.

You hadn’t expected this reaction from him when you’d first admitted what you wanted…but you couldn’t deny that you were enjoying it.

Chevalier

“I…I want to be bred.”

Chevalier looks up from his book at you, his eyes sharp as a predator’s. He had been wanting you to be more honest with your desires. So he had devised a plan to get you to tell him, swearing not to touch you until you told him exactly what you wanted. You hadn’t even made it a day before you were finally confessing…not that Chev didn’t already know. He always knew. But his desire was for you to voice your own.

Chevalier closes his book and rises from the chair elegantly. He walks towards you until he is standing directly in front of you, blue eyes staring down at you. “Do you know what you’re asking, simpleton?”

You swallow, but nod. “Yes.” You can feel your heart rate picking up.

Chevalier grins. “I’ll give you exactly what you want, simpleton.” Before you even know what’s happening, Chev has you on the bed, face down, ass up, his hands gripping your hips and his cock buried deep inside you.

Your moans seem to echo off the walls with each thrust from your brutal beast lover. “A simpleton…like you…is perfect…for breeding.” He groans as he pumps you full.

Once he’s finished, he’s pulling out and flipping you onto your back, lifting your hips up off the bed only to bury himself into you once again, fucking his cum back into you. “You’re not to lose a single drop.” He tells you, making you moan.

Chevalier continues to pump you with load after load, painting your walls white. “I’ll make sure you’re bred.” He whispers into your ear as he pushes you into a mating press once more. “I’ll fill you up and make sure you don’t waste a single drop.”

It appears Chevalier enjoys “breeding” as much if not more than you. You weren’t getting any rest that night.

Taglist: @zulablaise @kisara-16 @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es

@lucyw260 @queengiuliettafirstlady

[scorchieart]

Awww, y'see? He trusts ya with his most precious little bro and his most precious chinny chin chin 😌

Chev is totally this Cheetah meme and I won't hear of anything else

[fang-and-feather]

Without Words

Ikemen Prince - Chevalier & Daughter - Modern Fantasy AU

Words: 568

Summary: For the longest time, Chevalier wasn't sure he would make fr a good father, but he and his daughter had built a surprising bond, in their own way.

Written for the Chevalier's Sequel Release event by @aquagirl1978, prompts Love and Family

This was not what I expected to write, and I might write the intended story later, but I like the idea that prompted this change, although the execution is not as I expected...

IkePri Masterlist / General Masterlist / Read on AO3

Chevalier smiled to himself as he heard the hurried footsteps growing louder as they approached the door, and the voices calling after its owner.

He chuckled as the little girl struggled with the handle, before finally opening the door and peeking inside.

He motioned for her to come inside and his daughter smiled, almost bouncing inside.

She looked up at him with bright, questioning eyes, but looked away bashfully as Chevalier turned his full attention to her.

She certainly came to show him her costume for the party.

The dress looked like one of the pixies from a cartoon she liked. A fluffy looking white dress, with light tones of yellow, orange and pink, especially on the embroidered flowers.

But it wasn’t as perfectly accurate as a costume. Instead of the puffy sleeves ending in a band, they had been made into something shorter and more loose, and the length of the skirt had been shortened, ending a little above her ankles instead of nearly covering her shoes.

Chevalier was sure that was Yves’ handwork, because the changes seemed like they were made for the girl’s comfort.

He smiled at his daughter, before standing up and moving to sit on his bed instead, patting it to call her over.

She ran to him, struggling to climb on with her dress, until he helped her up. With her sitting between his legs, he reached for a comb on the nightstand, freeing her blond locks from the messy ponytail and starting to comb her hair.

Chevalier never expected to get good at this. For it to become his job at all. But it had become a little ritual between father and daughter. It brought peace and happiness to both of them.

Chevalier braided her hair and picked a box from a drawer on the nightstand, finding a nice bow to tie it, and also a smaller case inside. He picked a few of the small magical seeds inside, sprinkling them in his daughter’s hair, and used his powers to make them bloom into small white flowers.

When he was done, Chevalier patted her head and his daughter turned to give him a sleepy smile, before slipping out if the bed and running to the vanity, looking back at him when she stood before it.

Shaking his head with a smile, Chevalier stood up and picked her up so she could look in the mirror. Her smile grew, and she hugged him tightly. Chevalier hugged her back until she tried to pull away. He placed a kiss on top of her head and put her down.

His daughter adjusted her dress, turned to him, and gave him a playful bow with a bright smile. He gave her a nod, and she chuckled silently before dashing out, likely to show off to her mother and probably everyone else.

Chevalier’s smile remained even after she left. He was surprised but content with the bond he had with his daughter. Even in silence, they understood each other and communicated their love with little gestures like that.

He was still in wonder that he, who wasn’t sure he had what was needed to be a good father, had developed such an emotional bond with his child that nobody would ever believe the brutal beast was capable of. Another great change that had come into his life, and just the beginning of the many to come.

Tag List: @2-lines-and-a-circle, @queengiuliettafirstlady, @nightghoul381, @eventinelysplayground, @bicayaya, @keithsandwich

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

Hope it tagged everyone properly this time...

[rjthirsty]

Kayden Bazen (Ikemen Prince OC)

@welp-back-on-my-bs offered to make OCs for people, and I was like, "Yes, please, I would like one but I am writing smut atm, and tomorrow, and the day after." And then they did it and here we are!

I love the character they made. I will hold him in my hands and love him and torture him because I decided to pair him up with both the tigers in IkePri.

Name: Kayden Bazen Gender: Male Occupation: Spy/Attendant Kingdom: Obsidian Appearance: Black hair, brown eyes, 5'9", looks constantly lost Personal motto: Life is utter shit, but that's why you gotta make it worth living. Go for everything and hold onto every good thing that comes your way.

Backstory: Growing up in Obsidian was not an easy thing, especially if you were not part of the wealthy. Despite having once been from a minor noble house, Kayden's last immediate relative died when he was still a child. His fortune was picked apart by distant uncles and cousins who had wed into other families, and the child of Lord Bazen disappeared with no one to question what happened to him.

At least he wasn't sold into slavery. At least he still had his own life in his own hands. At least he got to keep on living.

After several years of surviving as a forgotten orphan, Kayden did what most poor people in a military country do, he joined the Obsidian Army. Somehow, he drew the attention of higher ups, and found himself enlisted in training to be a spy, under Prince Gilbert, himself.

Kayden: "Fucking cool, right?"

His mission took him to Rhodolite, where he secured a position in the Rhodolite Royal Guard. Prince Chevalier found him useful enough to put him to work on more specialized missions than the average soldier, allowing him to be one of the few who gets the brutal beasts sigil as a direct subordinate.

[thenovelartist]

IkePri headcanon - childhood friends

I'm getting cross-eyed from editing a novel, and this plot bunny started ravaging my brain. I had to take a break and write it so it would shut up. XD

IkePri Headcanon - what if the eight princes knew Emma in their childhood, only to reunite when she came to the palace as Belle?

(Long post under the cut because I don't write short things LOL)

Jin

They were neighbors growing up, so Jin had known her since they were babies.

Then his mom got sick and passed, and he was determined to make it to Rhodolite castle.

Her family was aiming to move in hopes of finding a better life, so Jin rode with them towards the capital of Rhodolite kingdom.

They felt pity for him, so they would help him out as much as they could if the king turned him away. Not that that happened.

However, Emma's family happened to find an opportunity to settle in the city, so Jin still crossed paths with them on occasion.

As they got older, they kept in touch less, but Jin always knew where to find Emma when he needed someone to talk to. She was always good for giving out everything from encouragement to scoldings to blunt advice.

That, and she made the best chocolate spice cake he'd ever known. He loved chatting over sweets with her.

Then came the bloodstained rose day. After that bloodbath, the torment in his mind grew too loud for him to handle alone. He ended up confiding in her what he did.

And then he cut off their friendship entirely.

He felt guilty. Dirty. Shameful. Why would a girl who had her act together want to be friends with a failed prince like him?

Besides, she was too bright, too full of love to give. They were both at the age that looking for marriage partners was reasonable, and he wanted her to find a good man without anyone getting the wrong idea about the two of them.

On top of that, he wasn't looking for true love the way she was. Although...

No, his position meant he couldn't make an exception for her, even if he wanted to, which he didn't.

Fast forward, and a Belle is chosen.

And that devil really brought Miss Pure-of-Heart into the castle.

Jin wouldn't leave her high and dry. Seeing as they were old friends, he would take responsibility for making sure she was taken care of.

But she only let him help her after she finished chewing him out for cutting her from his life.

(His brothers had a field day listening to that conversation.)

It wasn't long before they grew inseparable again, falling right back into their easy comradery they had built as youngsters.

It surprised him that she had remained unmarried. He would have thought she'd be settled with a family by now.

But he couldn't make any moves on her. She was a pure-hearted true love believer. And he... was not.

Yet his resolve snapped after seeing her at the graves on remembrance day.

Because she'd made it there before him, and that's when he realized she'd been here, laying flowers on those graves for years.

The way she looked at him when he arrived... it was like she'd never held those deaths against him. Like she'd forgiven him.

And when she leaned against his side, sliding her hand into his to hold as they stood there in mourning, he knew she still supported him, still believed in him, even after all these years.

Maybe there was such a thing as true love. And she made it mighty tempting to find out.

Chevalier

Her parents worked in the castle library, meaning she grew up in the castle.

Of course everyone had heard of the brutal beast child who isn't even human.

And it's not like Emma didn't see it, either.

Chevalier doesn't waste time with anyone, no matter what age. They were all terrified of him, anyway.

Except this infuriatingly incompetent simpleton who spent her days following her father around the library and dared to start conversations with Chevalier, of all people, over books.

He has made her run away in tears more than once.

But finally, she has the last word.

"You're just saying your a beast so you can pretend you're not human, but you're human as the rest of us!"

He makes it his mission to prove her wrong.

And she never accepts any answer. Even if it takes her a day or two, she will always find a retort.

It takes a while, but he finally accepts her as the amusing library simpleton.

And it's like that for years.

By the time they're teenagers, they've created a quasi-acquaintanceship. Which is the closest thing to a friendship Chevalier has ever had.

However, there comes a time she feels the need to grow up and leave the castle. To find her own job. Hence why she ends up working for a bookstore.

Chevalier now almost exclusively orders books through her.

However, that's all. Their relationship shifts strictly to a business one as Chevalier doesn't see the reason to waste time corresponding despite how saddened that makes him feel.

Then comes the time she is chosen for Belle. Despite Sariel knowing her already (he remembered everyone who had worked in the castle. He especially remembered the one girl that wasn't afraid of the brutal beast.) he feels she would be the perfect person to fill the position.

And when Chevalier discovers who was chosen, he's amused.

(His brothers almost have a heart attack upon seeing Chevalier, of all people, smiling. At a woman.)

Chevalier even dares to instigate conversation with her and teases her as much as he can. But he also invites her into his private library whenever she wishes.

In that month, he comes to realize that he is surprisingly upset by the prospect of her leaving again, only to never reappear.

Which only grows worse when he's chosen as king.

So he uses his authority to keep her there in the castle.

Now, they have all the time in the world to explore just why he feels this way.

Clavis

She was his first target ever.

She just had such fun reactions when he pulled a prank on her. He couldn't help but want to pull more and more.

You know the adage of "boys pull a girls' pigtails on a playground because he likes her"? Yeah. It's like that with pranks.

It's only because of a gentle warning from his loving mother that he stops pulling pranks on her and starts pulling them with her, instead.

He finds her yelling at him highly amusing. But not as amusing as her laughing along with him while trying to pretend it wasn't funny.

He soon finds himself clinging to her because she's the one person who is always there to give him the validation he needs.

Unfortunately, it's a double edged sword as she also just so happens to be there every time he's a failure. Every time he's a mess. Every time he's worthless and pathetic.

Yet, she never laughs at him. Never mocks him.

Instead, she's there to patch up any injuries (or just sooth his injured pride) and encourage him. And occasionally yell at him that he's an idiot for thinking he's a worthless fool.

She's one of the select few people who's seen him at his lowest. And he's learned to become okay with that.

As they grow up, they grow apart. But they never really lose touch. Clavis is very loyal to his people, you see. Particularly his favorite people.

So while he might not see her every day, he knows she works at the book shop and what exactly her hours are.

She always greets him with a scowl and some version of "what do you want, Clavis?"

Then Sariel ends up picking her as Belle.

Ohhh, this just got amusing.

They spend every day together, him taking it upon himself to show her around the castle and be her guide to all things about his brothers.

She'll never admit just how happy she is for that.

But then she chooses a king, meaning it's time for her to leave.

After having spent a month together attached at the hip, Clavis finds he's very opposed to letting her go.

So he finds a way to get her to stay.

She publicly laments over this.

Privately... she makes sure to tell him just how happy she is to be with her lovely lover.

Leon

She was a friend of the fourth prince. Officially, she was the daughter of the fourth prince's doctor, so she was around quite frequently.

Leon didn't hit it off with her right away. But they grew closer over time.

She was often there helping Leon with his studies, alongside the fourth prince.

What made them grow close was that Emma read off books for Leon to listen to. It was the greatest help in helping him learn and stay awake for long periods of time.

Then came the day the fourth prince passed, and everyone who knew that secret was slaughtered.

It broke Leon's heart, believing that Emma was among those gone. She was the closest thing he had to a friend. She treated him no differently than she had the prince. In her eyes and hers alone, Leon felt like an equal.

It made her loss a little harder to bear than others.

Fast forward several years, and he finds a woman in town that resembles her.

And that spice this woman has, slapping that man in the middle of the street square.

Absently, Leon runs a hand through his hair. Why does the back of his head hurt with that familiar sting of being smacked with a book, his mind lingering back to being yelled at by a fiery little girl for slacking off.

And then this woman was brought to the castle as Belle.

It's her. It has to be. But it takes Leon a few days to really accept that fact.

He absconds with her one evening, allowing him the privacy needed to confirm that fact.

Which she does. "You've gotten cocky."

He just laughs. Whole and hearty. It was her. And he couldn't be happier.

As they talk about the past, he learns that she had escaped death by accident. She had been running an errand and had gotten lost, effectively hiding her from the hired assassin.

She'd had to struggle finding her footing again, but she got taken in by the bookstore owner and had worked there ever since.

But now, the problem lies in the fact Leon is not going to let her go. She's the one person he can open his heart to, and the relief that gives him is not one he's going to give up any time soon.

Yves

She was the daughter of his wet nurse.

Literally raised together. For many years.

She was older, and bolder, so Yves used to follow her around.

And she was the one who paid the most attention to him when everyone wanted to stay away from the Half Obsidian prince.

He loved playing with her hair growing up. And she always let him.

They'd been seen more than once sitting in the garden, Emma showing Yves how to braid her hair and Yves decorating it with flowers.

They always snuck into the kitchen for treats and whatnot.

When they got old enough, he made his first dessert with her: a batch of cookies.

They pinky promised to make cookies together all the time.

But that promise could only last so long.

When Emma and her mother left the castle to pursue a job elsewhere, Yves was once again left alone.

He didn't like baking cookies for the longest time because of their pinky promise.

But an older brother has to take care of his younger brother when he looks sad and comments that he wants a cookie.

Fast forward, and Emma is brought in as Belle.

She notices Yves stalking her right away, but decides she'll pretend not to notice.

But after the third time of glancing his direction with a smile, he'll appear. Only to be teased by her that even as an adult, he's still following her around.

He gets all blushy, and fervently denies how happy he is about seeing her again.

She's the same as ever, judging him on his character instead of his birth and encouraging him like she used to.

But it's when they finally bake cookies together again that Yves realizes that he can't let her go. That he's scared to.

After all, who could love a half-obsidian monster?

(Well, the answer is not her, because she's sure to tell him he's not an unlovable monster. He's just a handsome, hard-working prince whom she loves very dearly.)

Licht

She was like him: the daughter of a songstress. The reason she was in the castle, though, was because she was also the daughter of the gardener.

He didn't always pay her much mind, but there was one thing that always stuck out about her.

She sang. Often.

And Licht liked to sing, when he could sneak away from his studies.

So he ended up singing along with her at times.

Nokto sometimes joined, but not always. He liked listening to Licht sing. Particularly with Emma. They always sounded so pretty.

And Licht lit up like the sunrise whenever he sang with her.

They sang together whenever they could. Up until the "incident" when Licht went silent.

Occasionally, she'd sneak through the castle and sing to him through his door. For the longest time, he buried his head under the covers and cried at the sound.

And just when Licht thought he might start singing again, she was gone, having moved out of the castle.

He regretted not singing with her one last time, but he supposed he deserved it for his actions.

Fast forward many years, and Belle is chosen.

Licht didn't recognize her right away. In fact, he didn't recognize her at all.

He just ignored her for the time being, finding a private moment to sing in the garden like he sometimes enjoyed doing. Only, this time a female voice joined him, harmonizing to his own.

But that voice sounded familiar, as did the way their voices blended together.

He couldn't help but start searching for the owner, actually growing excited as he did.

And then he spotted Belle. That's when he finally recognized her.

After that, he quickly warmed up to her. For once, he didn't just sing with her but actually spent time talking with her.

Beyond that, he spent time not talking with her. Instead, sitting silently as they shared sweets she made for him or walked around town.

And it scared him how much he wanted her to stay. He didn't deserve her.

But she'd been there when the incident happened. She knew everything, and she never judged him.

It didn't take long for him to surrender to her outpouring of love and decide he was going to steal this happiness for himself. But only this happiness, he'd never ask for anything more than her, his perfect harmony.

Nokto

She was the daughter of the palace doctor.

She was a few years older than the twins, actually. Which was why she felt responsible for watching out for them.

Particularly when she noticed they hid their injuries from their "punishments"

She forced her care on them quite frequently. And if they went into hiding to avoid her smothering hand, she would sneak bandages and salves into their rooms.

She always knew when they were hiding injuries. She was like Sariel that way, but nicer.

Which is why the twins soon surrendered to her treatments.

It wasn't anything special, per se, but Nokto and Licht both knew she was someone who was safe to be around.

And they loved when she let them hide in her room from Sariel. She could stand up against the devil, which earned both their respects.

But Nokto was the one who learned from her smooth tongue.

He found it impressive, the way she could slip her way out of conversations or get people to talk based on her words alone.

He didn't fully realize it might have just been her personality as well. He was too young to realize he'd been charmed by her, too.

After the incident, she was the one to check up on the twins, who each locked her out.

She knew right away that both the boys had trouble sleeping after that. Which was why she made tea for both the boys to help them sleep.

Nokto was the one who relied on it the most. He just wanted to disappear from the world. So even though the tea she made him was bitter, it would make the world go away, just for a little while.

But then Emma left, finding work in town and taking that tea with her.

At first, he was disappointed he didn't get her recipe. But it wasn't long until he realized he missed her safe presence, as well.

The world really was crumbling around him, and he accepted it.

Until she came back as Belle.

At first, he didn't want her close. He used that sly tongue he'd acquired to push her away.

Not that it worked.

He'd charmed so many women in his life, but as always, she never was blinded by the lies.

Which made him back away as he felt so vulnerable in front of her.

But just as she had growing up, she never let either twin hide his injuries from her. She hunted him down until Nokto was tired of running.

In the end, he rediscovered that feeling of safety she carried with her. And he basked in it.

The fox had found his den to hide in, and now he wasn't going to let anyone take it away from him. For once, he was going to prove he could be a protector, instead of just letting others do the protecting.

Luke

She was Luke's neighbor growing up. So she knew his sister, and she knew how Luke was treated.

Being a little older than him, she wanted to take care of him.

She was always sneaking him food. Which he was very grateful for, but it always made him feel indebted to her.

Soon enough, Luke basically accepted her as an older sister, protecting her as much as he did Leyla. And Emma was sure to smoother the two siblings in as much love as she could.

Since Luke is such a good brother, he swore to protect Emma too. He even made her a teddy bear.

Then came Bloodstained rose day.

Emma was with Leyla when the chaos descended, and she'd gotten injured as well, but when Luke came, she left Leyla with Luke and ran to find help.

She was the one who got Jin's attention before passing out at his feet.

He handed her off to a different soldier before going to rescue the two kids she'd pointed out.

That day, Luke lost both his sisters. His torment was hellish.

Time passed, and Luke was eventually invited to the castle.

He was going to find the prince that took his two precious sisters away from him.

And then Belle was brought in.

The moment he saw her, Luke's world turned upside down. Because he'd never forget her face.

At the first opportunity, he cornered her alone. "Emma?"

And when she gave him the sweetest smile, tears welling up in her eyes, he felt like his knees would give out from under him. "I knew that was you, Luke."

This broken man breaks into tears with relief. Yes, he'd lost one sister, and that torment still ravaged his heart, but his other one was still here, still alive and well.

Turned out that Jin had brought Emma back to the capitol where he'd allowed her to work as a maid until she was old enough to find a job on her own in town. Though he would have allowed her to stay, she didn't want to take advantage of his kindness anymore.

Learning everything tears Luke in two. Jin took one sister away from him, his little sister, but saved his other one? Why? Why, why why?

It's a long road, but the reappearance of his wonderful sister throws Luke through such a loop he can't even make out which way is up anymore.

Emma talks Luke out of revenge. It's a hard path to tread, but it allows Luke and Jin to start reconciling.

While Emma is at the palace, she encourages Luke to start up prince lessons right away. Because heaven forbid that Luke allows his sister to see him slacking.

Er... maybe... not his sister? The more time they spend together, the more un-sisterly thoughts Luke has about her.

And by the time Emma has chosen a king and is preparing to head back into town, Luke is adamant about not letting her go.

Which inspires Emma to confess her own growing feelings.

Congratulations: they are now inseparable.

Despite feeling unworthy of her, Luke is never letting her go again. Ever. His world revolves around her, and his only goal in life is to make her proud.

And if that means being a prince, then so be it.

[clavissionary-position]

Cyran: I'm sorry—he was stuffing his face with roses?

Clavis: That is 100% what I saw. The Brutal Beast himself scavenging around in the garden with an insatiable hunger that would put Gilbert to shame.

Clavis: I had to poke him with my shovel just to get his attention. Both for my safety and satisfaction. Then he started gnawing on the handle.

Clavis: I am not ashamed to say that I had to slap him when he started sniffing me. Don't give me that look. The slap landed. His cheek rippled like pond water and turned red. I cried, Cyran. I cried.

Cyran: I don't believe it. No, I'd sooner believe that he'd switched bodies with a bunny rabbit than believe any of that.

Clavis: That does seem like the likelier scenario. If things like that were possible in our very mundane world, hahaha!

Clavis: Anyway, move that hole five meters to your right. I have to go run errands for this overbearing little guy.

White rabbit in Clavis' arms: *annoyed sigh*

--- inspired by the recent tweet by ikepri EN about things chev would never say, scorchieart's writing as per usual, as well as an unrelated crack fic toshipingu once wrote about silvio ^^

[norel-ravenclaw]

The Haunted Mansion

Ikepri AU - Part 2

Fandom: Ikemen Prince (otome game)

Featured characters: All 13 plus allusions to unknown new trio

Genre: Paranormal Tragic Romance

Rating: 14+

Word count: Part 2 - 4760

Description: Ikepri Haunted Mansion AU - The regional princes have had an awful time getting servants to stay at their grand manor. A young woman takes the job and quickly discovers why no one else applied. Despite the strange occurrences, she finds home and even love among them. But tragedy seeks to cut short the possibility of a happy ending. Be warned, this is a story for those who like a twisted sort of satisfaction.

WARNINGS: | lots of violent death, killing, and suicide (nothing too explicitly gory) | mxw | polyamory | yandere | toxic relationships | angst | dark goth vibes | seriously, only read this in a good headspace |

..........................................................

The next morning, she arrived to serve breakfast, and was surprised to see Prince Chevalier joining the others. She went to serve to Prince Jin first, but Mr. Sariel cleared his throat.

"You ought to serve the master first."

Surprised, she looked up. "But he isn't here, is he?"

Mr. Noir furrowed his brow. "Of course he is. Master Chevalier is at the opposite head of the table."

She stared at him for a moment. "But... I thought the man with the eyepatch and cane was the head of the estate? He said he was."

The mild clamour of the men preparing for breakfast suddenly stopped. They all exchanged looks with one another, drawing her attention. Meanwhile, Mr. Noir's expression fell dark as he continued to stare at her.

"What are you talking about?" Yves demanded. "My cousin died years ago. You must have seen his portrait and dreamed the whole thing."

"...Oh."

She stood there still, contemplating the events of the evening before. But just as her mind was about to bend, Clavis cleared his throat.

"Not to worry, chickadee, everyone has hallucinations of ghosts around here. Must be the mold behind the walls," he said cheerfully.

Nokto made a face. "Ugh, don't even joke about such a thing. Don't ruin our appetites."

The ashy haired man beside him grinned. "Oh? Perhaps my cooking would do better at inspiring your hunger. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! Even Chev decided to have it this morning."

A chorus of tired dissent traveled the table before Emma stirred back to motion to deliver the plate to the other end of the table.

"Well, I apologize for the mistake. Your breakfast, Master Chevalier."

He made no effort to acknowledge her, but beside him, the golden eyed menace piped up again. "My my, brother, that is no way to greet the woman you so admire."

All eyes flicked to the end of the table. Clavis smirked as the blond stubbornly tucked into his breakfast.

"After your little display last night, he fell madly in love with you, you know. No one has ever dared to talk back to the Brutal Beast. And certainly no one would have ever survived it. Except for you. You have something awfully special to be able to capture the heart of a heartless automaton~"

Chevalier grunted, unimpressed. "Stop spouting nonsense."

Emma took another plate of food off the trolley, holding it with both hands to hide the slight trembling. She stood behind Leon's chair, and he chuckled.

"Did you really face him?" His eyes were fond as he looked up at her. "I knew there was something special about you. It would take a person with nerves of steel to choose to come to this place to begin with, much less stand up to Chev on your very first night."

His smile eased her nerves slightly, and she returned it shyly. Feeling another gaze on her, she glanced up to catch Chevalier looking away.

Jin chuckled. "Well, if you ever get in trouble again, offer to help him in the library. It's a lot of work trying to preserve all those old books." He winked. "He might be more forgiving towards someone actually willing to help him."

She perked up at the mention of books. "Oh, I haven't seen the library yet."

Mr. Noir cleared his throat, passing her another plate. "Take care not to neglect your other duties with your nose tucked in a musty old book, hm?"

Despite the fact that his words were a warning, she smiled, sensing the kindness underneath. "Yes sir."

And so, Miss Emma took to helping with the library restoration project with Chevalier in the afternoons between lunch and supper. She managed to pull bits of conversation from him, and they discussed books for hours.

Meanwhile, she became accustomed to life at the mansion, growing close to all of the curious beasts that resided there. Slowly but surely, they warmed up to her in turn.

Jin taught her to dance. Clavis tried to catch the annoyingly (impressively and charmingly) astute girl in his traps. Leon took her for horseback rides around the vast property. Yves taught her how to bake. Licht showed her some self defense. Nokto (forced her) to learn the art of negotiation. Luke took her into the gardens to escape the dark labyrinthine halls for naps on clear days. Rio taught her how to be the perfect attendant. And Sariel asked for her help in organizing his office, leading to him teaching her how to take care of the paperwork required for running the place.

Weeks turned to months, and against all odds, the cold and detached Brutal Beast softened towards her.

Their late night reading parties offered time to talk. Approval turned to appreciation, which became affection. Then adoration.

On the morning after the first snowfall, he invited her to the gazebo for tea. There he presented her with a velvet box containing a priceless yellow diamond ring.

With tears and a shout of joy, the brave maiden and the beast became engaged.

Miss Emma was thrilled and anxious to broaden her studies so that she could help govern the people beside her new fiancé. Each of the brothers helped teach her what she needed to know.

She was diligent in her chores through it all. During a particularly long day of dusting, she strayed into a farther hall of the mansion and heard the distant voices of her lover and Clavis.

"...ruined everything I was trying to do!"

"There was only one correct choice... for the whole of the region..."

"Years of work for the refugees, up in smoke! How could you?! There's nothing... without you!"

"Stop complaining. ...your foolish actions."

The sound of their argument died off, and she continued her work with a furrowed brow. She knew the two butted heads often, but they always made things work.

That night after a long day of busywork, she slowly made her way towards her lover's office. An economics book in hand, she paused by the window, seeing the light on in the private library. She smiled, seeing her fiancé's silhouette as he paced with a book in his own hand. The candle light flickered in the window's reflection, the moon bright and the night still.

Sighing contentedly, she closed the book and started towards the opposite wing of the mansion.

As she passed by the row of armour in the hall leading to the side entrance, something captured her attention out of the corner of her eye.

Glancing to her right, a glowing red eye pierced the gloom of the evening.

She screamed, stepping back in alarm, amplified by the murderous expression on his face.

"Gilbert?"

He stood between the softly gleaming metal, his aura dark and brooding.

"What... erm, what's wrong?"

He sighed deeply before putting on a terribly off putting smile. "My friend did something not very nice. He stuck me with the worst company." That awful smile deepened. "I don't think I can forgive him."

Emma faltered, unsure of what she was actually seeing. "...Right, well. I shouldn't keep Chevalier waiting. ...Excuse me."

Hurrying down the corridor, she continued on her way.

Then a strange rhythmic sound started to come into focus. As she drew closer to the mansion entry hall, what greeted her was a scene of chaos.

Several police automobiles whined outside, blue and red lights flashing through the foyer. All of the brothers were gathered, the servants whispering in the corner. Two officers struggled to pull a man forward, and when she saw him, she gasped.

Clavis screamed, drenched in blood as they pushed him towards the front door. "He deserved it! Justice was finally served for that heartless murderer!"

The gentle hearted lady dropped her book. "Clavis?!"

His rage-filled eyes met hers, and something flickered in them. She ran up to him, ignoring the officers' warnings.

"Clavis, tell me, what happened? What did you do?!"

"Emma." Leon rushed up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She could not see the tear stains on his face.

His brother did not meet his eye, but there was a longing as he met hers. "Emma... Why couldn't you have chosen me? Couldn't I have made you happier than that stuffy old bastard?"

Her whole frame began to tremble. "Tell me you didn't. Clavis tell me you didn't!" she screamed.

He swallowed hard. "He ruined all my work. The people were relying on me..."

Greater horror dawned even as sobs wracked her. "Chevalier had just made an agreement with Tanzanite."

Golden eyes widened as understanding hit. Then he snarled. "Why wouldn't he tell me?! Why didn't he trust me enough-" Biting his lip hard, tears began to fall. "Damn him to hell!!"

"Chevalier..."

As the room full of people sniffled and sobbed, a quiet breeze blew in through the front door.

It almost seemed to Emma like a voice whispered, 'How dare you trap me here with him forever? Join me too, friend.'

Leon gasped and firmly dragged her backward with a shout. "Look out!"

The officers cried out and scrambled back, allowing Clavis the chance to take half a step forward before it happened.

The finest suits of armour flanked the main door. And one of them conveniently dropped the tall axe it held.

Emma saw a point of red light emanating from the helmet before Leon spun her around and crushed her against his chest.

Her pounding heart covered the sound of Clavis' grunt of pain. But not the screams and cries of the brothers.

"Clavis!" Jin screamed.

Leon held her close, keeping her from the ghastly sight of the axe in his brother's back. She clung to him, thinking of the last moment she saw her fiancé in the library, not realizing he had indeed already been dead for many hours.

...

Yves found Emma in her room once again, late for tea.

Again, she sat on the floor with a white gown around her. His reflection in the mirror was the only thing that broke her from her reverie.

"Miss Emma..." he sighed. Setting down a tea tray, he went to kneel beside her. "Come now, it's been a month. You must develop a strategy to get out of this funk."

With an imperious huff, he pulled a kerchief from his coat.

"Yves," she sniffed, "It's just too horrible. How do I move on from all that?"

Looking at her, he straightened up and declared, "Well, you'll never feel better if you don't take care of yourself. Let's get you fixed up."

And so he moved behind her to fix her hair. Then he helped her to her feet and held up the wedding dress to her.

"Emma, you will get to wear this dress someday, I promise. So go and find love and happiness until then."

At last, she could see him clearly between her tears and offered him a smile. "Thank you Evie."

After this, the broken hearted woman became much closer to her masters. Including the capricious cat.

They met every day for tea, secretly of course so that Mr. Noir wouldn't lecture her on taking tea with the people she was meant to serve.

But the healing love of the beasts was not met with approval by all.

The nights in the manor became even louder with shouting and wailing, shattered dishes and a set of scratch marks through the late Lord Chavalier's portrait.

Poor Yves found himself increasingly exposed to such mysterious happenings. Until his brothers began to mock him for his constant ghost stories.

He began to lose sleep, and the late nights started to go to his head. He even turned to alcohol to temper the madness.

But this, sadly, proved to be his undoing.

For one night after a second drink, he was alone in the corridor, shouting and waving off invisible phantoms.

He lost his footing, unaware of the staircase behind him.

Luckily for him, the third tumble proved fatal, breaking his neck.

And thus the third Rhodolite brother died in the ill fated mansion.

Though as the coroner arrived in the morning, Licht chewed his glove in distress. He could have sworn he heard his brother shouting at Clavis in the dead of the night. Something about making Emma happier...

Jin and Leon worked to keep the place lively after the accident, but everyone was feeling down. Miss Emma took it upon herself to use Yves' cookbook to make everyone's favourite sweets.

The strain of everything forced twins closer - an effort from Nokto, who was perhaps the only one who really understood just how much Yves did for Licht.

Miss Emma joined him in this endeavour.

Knocking on his door, she was greeted by a lazy voice inside.

"Come in."

She entered with a tray and found the fox prince lounging in his large bed.

"Care to join me, Em?"

Hardly hesitating, she set down the tea and shook her head. "Once again, the answer is no, sir."

He sighed and sat up. "And why not?"

She put on a polite smile. "Because I don't have feelings for you."

His unreadable smile stayed in place as he got up from the bed. "We both know that's a lie. Why pretend?"

He certainly didn't miss her blink and hesitation.

"...We're friends, aren't we? Can't we just, be that?"

Stopping in front of her, he sighed again. Reaching out to take a lock of her hair between his fingers, she jerked back in reflex.

"You still don't trust me."

Their eyes met with an intensity that lasted far too long before she broke it and headed towards the door. "Your tea will get cold."

After the door shut, he lingered before going to pick up the teacup. "Not colder than you, Em," he sighed, a depth of sadness to his tone that she was not there to see.

But as it happens, his former actions (a fling, to be specific) came back to haunt him.

The brother of an influential businessman stormed the mansion one day, demanding to see Nokto Klein, 'The slimy bastard that broke his little sister's heart.'

The rain had only just begun to let up as the remaining brothers lined up outside a crypt next to a suitably flat area for a duel.

Licht stayed upstairs, and Miss Emma came across Nokto grumbling as he pulled his sword out of the weapon cabinet.

"You shouldn't have to do this," she said.

His ruby gaze met hers. "Won't you give me a kiss for courage?"

Her brow furrowed. "Nokto, listen to me. I know you've hurt people. And I don't agree with any of that. But you shouldn't have to risk your life just because someone with a temper-"

She jumped in surprise as he slammed a hand against the wooden case.

"None of that matters. If I don't stop him now, he'll ruin my business plans for the-"

"None of it matters?! That you manipulate and throw aside girls who just want the same thing you do-"

Suddenly his lips were on hers. Gasping, she pushed against his chest.

"Em, don't you get what it is that I want?"

Again their eyes met, both with fury and pain. She stormed off and left him there, his brother just out of sight, and a sword in his own hand.

As she left the hall, a tapestry fell behind her. The wind from the armory window carried with it a faint shout of anger.

Luke, Jin, and Leon waited for them down in the yard. As Emma approached, Jin held out an arm.

"Hey. I... take it you weren't able to dissuade him?"

Tears stung at her eyes as she set her jaw. "No. I hope he loses."

Jin's brow furrowed as he held her close, Nokto's footsteps announcing the beginning of the duel.

The businessman scowled as the ash-haired man approached. "About time! You coward! Let's do this so I can send your body into this crypt!"

Nokto smirked as he readied his sword. "I'm not afraid. I have my good luck charm." He sent a wink towards Emma, who crossed her arms and practically snarled at him.

His smile and bravado faded, and a strange look crossed his face. A chilled wind blew across the yard, stirring up mist from the rains. A melancholy howl echoed around, sounding strangely like a yowling cat.

"En garde!" the man shouted.

The duel began quickly. Swords clashed and sparked in the heavy air.

No one saw Licht in a high above stairwell grasping the windowsill tightly. He knew something was wrong. He knew Nokto's fighting style. It was the same as his own. But the movements he saw down below resembled... Yves' more.

He saw the final move before the sword struck. The side of Nokto's chest unguarded.

His cry was unheard from that distance.

Tears clouded his vision as Emma ran to his twin. Luke rushed in with the medical kit, but Jin held back. He knew.

The rain picked up twofold, the howling winds amplifying until the storm grew.

And it lasted. For well over a week.

Emma and several men spent dark nights in the Rhodolite family crypt. They would pretend not to see each other when their midnight mourning overlapped.

One night, it was Emma's turn to wander the crypt. Crying at Chevalier's grave, and pondering at the others. She missed Clavis' laughter, Yves' baking, and yes, even Nokto's attempts to cheer her. She wished she'd taken them up on their offers...

Hearing boots crunching on the soft earth outside, she hastily got up and set herself to rights. She looked out the window to see Licht coming.

As he opened the door, it looked like he was in a daze.

"Licht..."

His eyes finally focused on her. "Oh, it's you."

They stayed in silence for a long moment before he spoke, so quietly she could hardly hear him.

"I keep seeing him. Hearing him. In the halls. Outside. He's angry at Yves and I don't know why."

Miss Emma slowly approached him, and was surprised when he collapsed into her arms in a crushing hug.

She held him close for hours that night, murmuring sweet words of support and love. She stroked his hair as they sat on Nokto's grave until the sun breached the horizon.

For the first time since the incident, the rain finally stopped.

The kind woman shared her time with Jin, Leon, Luke, Rio, and Mr. Noir, studying and baking and helping with paperwork of governance for the region. Meanwhile, she learned how to wield a sword from her lone wolf.

In fact they grew quite close. He opened up to her as he had to no other. In the nights when the drafty halls moaned and whispered, they held each other close.

Until one night when the whispers in the halls became more discernable.

As Miss Emma left his room, a quiet, steady sound followed her. At first she thought it was the ticking of the grandfather clock, until she passed it.

Around the corner, she heard the sound growing louder and louder. She waited at the end of the hallway, only for the sound to stop.

Then a voice came from behind her.

"Such a naughty little rabbit."

Gasping and clutching at her chest, she spun around to see Gilbert.

"You again!"

He smiled, but it looked more sinister and, somehow, sad than friendly. "First the nasty old tiger. You became friends with Clavis. Than my disappointing cousin. Don't think I didn't see your lust for the whore." She tried to interrupt with an offended sound, but he just smiled and continued. "And now, you think you can save that broken boy?"

Tears pricked at her eyes at his taunting.

Stepping closer, he ran a gloved fingertip along her cheek. "I wish you'd be my friend. I promise you'd like me very much." The sight of her rebellious look made him smirk. "You don't think so? But you already think of me so often, don't you."

It was a statement, not a question.

He laughed at her reaction of guilt, and the sound multiplied. She spun around, certain she saw Clavis' cloak disappearing around the corner.

She turned back to see if he was still there, but Gilbert was gone as well. Her heart pounding, she decided to go look for him. For signs of him. Books, portraits, anything.

Meanwhile, the vengeful trampling beast went off to keep away other beasts from his little rabbit.

Down in the stables, the tap of a cane made the horses stir. The tiny spark of a nearly dead candle reignited in a lantern.

With a cruel smirk, he lifted his cane and carelessly tipped the lantern off its hook. It clattered to the ground and shattered, igniting the dry floorboards and hay.

As he faded away, the shout went up in the household, and the one who most loved the horses raced in.

Licht. He freed the others one by one, suffering burns as he went. But the final stall, the one with his beloved Marron, was too lost to the blaze.

The inferno still raged into the morning hours.

Emma sat beside Sariel on the back steps, empty bottles around their feet as the firefighters were at last able to quell it.

After a while, Leon joined them. Together they were silent. Emma tiredly stroked Sariel's back, and Leon held her hand.

They sat together for a long time after the smoke settled. Quiet tears falling.

After this next accident, the three remaining brothers were closer than ever. Mr. Noir and Rio joined them often for tea, and of course Miss Emma was constantly by their side.

Summer turned to autumn, and as the world turned to gold and red, Leon and Emma spent many hours in the estate garden. Together they harvested and baked, playing in the leaves and having flour fights in the kitchens.

She read to him late into the night, and before the first snow of the season, she received another ring. A dazzling ruby, bright with her love and hopes for the future.

Not long after they announced their engagement, Jin and Sariel decided to throw them a party. They ventured into the deep dark wine cellar, finding - to their great excitement - exceptionally rare and quality vintages long forgotten.

As they set up for the party in the most cozy dining room, she slipped into the attic to pull out her abandoned wedding gown. Holding it up to herself, tears of joy and grief fell. She missed Chevalier, Yves... the twins, even Clavis.

But even now, after all this tragedy, hatred, and inexplicable incidents, she still had Rio, Sariel, Luke, Jin, and her beloved Leon. Together they could weather anything and care for the townspeople.

But as fate would have it, just as she had dried her tears, a glass shattered downstairs.

She dropped the dress and rushed to see what had happened. Sariel was shouting orders to Rio.

"Leon! What happened!" She gasped at the sight of Jin lying on the ground, a broken bottle of wine beside him.

Stepping over the shards of glass, she clamped a hand over her mouth in horror as the men tried desperately to save Jin.

As he choked and gasped for breath, he managed to look at her. "Take... c-care of... Em."

Sariel cursed and picked up the bottom of the old bottle. His voice shook with rage and hopelessness. "To my Uncle Karl, Goodbye."

Luke sputtered. "W-wait, do you mean... That bottle was poisoned who knows how long ago, and Jin just happened to..."

Leon sighed heavily, setting Jin's hand down. "He's gone."

Rio pulled the dumbstruck lady into his arms, shielding her from the scene.

Luke fled in a storm of emotion, and through the night, one could hear the shattering of countless bottles as Sariel destroyed every one left by other residents of the mansion.

After the funeral, they finally had their engagement party dinner. Though the affair was rather more subdued than they'd planned.

As the days passed by, Emma noticed that Luke was behaving more and more erratically.

One night as she finished work, she found him pacing in an upstairs hall. Muttering to himself, he stopped at the window occasionally before doubling back.

"Luke?"

He spun around at the sound of her voice and rushed over. "Emma! Hurry, you've gotta come see this!" He pulled her to the window and pointed out. "Look! It's Licht!"

This took her a moment to process. "W-what?!"

Looking out the window, all she could see was mist on the hills surrounding.

"He was there! Riding Marron with some other people. It looked like they were going out hunting."

She turned to look at him, his green eyes wide with concern. "Luke..."

"But he's dead. And so is..." He huffed, running his hands roughly through his hair. "NOT NOW!"

Miss Emma jumped back a step at his outburst. An eerie sound drifted down the hall, like distant laughter.

A familiar voice, no less.

"See! You can hear him too!" He grabbed her shoulder. "Em, this place is cursed! I'll protect ya from the spirits, I swear."

Her heart pounded in her chest. "Luke, curses aren't real..."

"Then how the hell do you explain everything that's happened?!"

His wild eyes were suddenly on a dark violet gaze.

"We're all going through hell, Mr. Randolph," Sariel said, looking firm. "But the important thing is that we are together. We will try to keep one another safe and happy. That is all we can do."

Putting his hands on Miss Emma's shoulders, he steered her away from the window - where down below, a hunting party ran across the hills, cloaked in mist.

As they walked down the hall, she could swear that the portrait of Gilbert smiled more broadly at her, his eye crinkling in amusement.

"See you soon, little bunny."

They all hoped that Luke would settle down, but alas, poor Luke became more and more sensitive to the... tragic energy of the manor.

More and more incidents occurred of him shouting at Clavis, sobbing to Jin, complaining about Gilbert, and jumping at the supposed sight of strangers in the halls.

Leon and Sariel especially tried to help calm him, taking him to town and for rides in the country. They tried to get him to help with the ever increasing workload. But he would escape to go nap somewhere, desperate to hide from his living nightmares.

Until one fateful night that would change the destiny of the mansion forever.

Miss Emma was, fortunately, asleep away on the other end of the place. She did not hear the altercation between her fiancé and his youngest brother, who, in his madness, accused him of being a spirit himself.

Vowing to protect Emma from all harm, and with the disorienting whispers of a red eyed man over his shoulder, a shove from the strong bear sent the lord of beasts falling to his death.

Miss Emma was, fortunately, in fitful sleep as the sobbing, raving man stumbled out into the forest, out to the peasant's cemetery. Where, carefully tended of dirt and leaves, a small headstone sat tucked away.

No one saw - and no one would discover the truth until many years later - as the last of the sons of the Lord Rhodolite impaled himself on his own sword.

The morning was met with shattered glass reflecting whirling lights.

As Mr. Noir and Rio each had a hand on her shoulder as her second fiancé was taken away covered in white, she at last gave in to the suspicion that somehow, this place was indeed cursed.

And yet, this grisly reputation was not enough to drive away a new buyer.

To be continued.

[annaliessse]

Love That Never Fades (Amnesia Event)

So I've finished all four routes in the one of the latest IkePri Event and while reading, I've always wondered what Chev's route will be like. Since the event only features Leon, Licht, Nokto, and Clavis, I decided to make one for our second prince! So here we are, with my first Tumblr fanfiction. Enjoy!

Pairing: Chevalier Michel x Emma Sommers

No. of Words: 2,400+

It has been a difficult week and Emma was just glad to finally be free of all her problems and lose herself in the familiarity of her books. They tell her she had lost her memories, that an accident caused her to forget the fact that she was the Belle of this kingdom. Subsequently, she was offered a job as a palace librarian. When she woke up, she was greeted by the kind, purple eyes of a man named Sariel. Emma was scared, who wouldn’t be? After all, she woke up in an unfamiliar room, full of unfamiliar faces, telling her an unfamiliar story and convincing her that the tale they speak of was her lost memories.

She would have broken down had she not seen Rio’s smiling face.

Emma sighs, unable to concentrate on the book that was given to her by the young lady who temporarily took her place as the palace librarian. The book she gave her was her favorite too: a tragic tale between lovers from two warring families. She remembered her surprise when the lady gave her the book but she only smiled and walked away.

Emma flips through the pages, distracted but determined to take her mind off her worries. Despite the warmth of the afternoon sun streaming through the large windows, the atmosphere in the library suddenly turns cold. When she looks up from her book, she sees a handsome young man with platinum blonde hair and eyes as cold as frost. He wore a gold and white ensemble, his cloak fluttering in the gentle wind coming in from the open windows.

This is who they call Prince Chevalier. A fearful beast. A brutal prince. The man who has done everything in his power for their paths to never meet.

Despite the horrific tales he has heard of him, Emma does not fear. She’s not anxious, nor nervous, rather, she aches. Her heart tugs painfully, a void in her heart making itself clear.

The prince moves towards Emma before sitting beside her, silent the whole time. Emma wants to say something, to talk to him, but she has no words and she only gapes silently at the prince who takes her book and flips it to see the cover.

“Your taste has not changed.”

“I…” Emma stutters. Not many know her favorite books. If Prince Chevalier knows her preferences, she must have been close to him.

“I’m sorry.” She says finally. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my memories, Prince Chevalier.”

He snickers. “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”  

“What?” Emma asks, confused at the prince’s unrelated answer.

“Your favorite line. You said you have lost your memory. I am only reminding you, simpleton.”

Simpleton. The word stirs something in Emma. It is a word one would normally take offense to. Instead, her chest fills with the warmth of something achingly affectionate. Emma looks at Prince Chevalier, gauging his reaction, but he remained as stoic as ever.

“… It is. Prince Chevalier, do we know each other?”

“I am a prince. It is expected that you would know me.”

“Not like that. Like were we acquaintances? Or friends?” Or lovers?

His cold gaze falters a moment, a hint of something strange flashing through his eyes. When he blinks, it’s gone and the prince stands up, leaving almost as quickly as he came.

“Wait!” Emma holds his cloak tightly, the fabric crumpled in her hands.

He does not say anything, but he pauses, and she takes it as a sign for her to continue.

“Help me, Your Highness. I want my memories back and I don’t know what it is, what my mind is telling me, but I know that somehow, you can help me retrieve what I have lost. So please, help me.”

He’s silent for a second before he speaks.

“That is not my problem.” He forcefully tugs his cloak and walks away.

Despite this, Prince Chevalier’s words do not match his actions. After a few days of ignoring Emma, he came to her voluntarily, wordlessly sitting beside her as she reviews the books Sariel told her to study. Apparently, she was learning proper etiquette and decorum. For what, she does not understand. If she was only a palace librarian, why would it matter that she knows which fork to use, how to hold her teacup properly, or how to not trip herself while dancing?

Emma glances at the prince who was working quietly besides him, reviewing official documents that he had taken with him. She knows that the answer lies in this cold prince.

“Prince Chevalier?”

He does not react, much like last time but Emma continues anyway.

“Why do I need to know these etiquette skills?”

He raises and eyebrow. “Because you are not good at it.”

You think? Emma groans. “I know. But why am I learning this? I am a palace librarian, not a princess or noble lady who attends balls and galas.”

As soon as she says that, a brief memory of large ballrooms bathed in orange glow fills her mind. Men and women were dressed in luxurious fabrics. She remembers the feeling of anxiety, heightened when she sees a gloved hand reach for her.

When she regains her composure, Prince Chevalier watches her silently. She feels like talking to the prince about that flash of memory but when she looks in his eyes, she knew there is no need for explanation. The prince reads her like an open book.

When Emma looks back at her studies, she glances at the prince.

She notices that the gloves worn by the mysterious man in her dreams look eerily similar to the ones Prince Chevalier wore.

For the next month, Emma and Prince Chevalier fall into a daily routine. During afternoons, Prince Chevalier would come by the library with maids holding stacks of documents. He would sit beside Emma, working quietly and answering her questions with short responses.

This afternoon, Emma is surprised when the prince hands her a book.

“What is this, Your Highness?”

“A romance book.”

Emma smiles, eyes sparkling as she flips the pages of her book. It was a foreign one, something she has never read before and her heart fills with excitement.

“Thank you, Prince Chevalier!” She exclaims.

Emma smiles brightly at him and begins reading the book right away. She has quickly forgotten her daily readings, preferring to read the book Prince Chevalier gave her instead. The prince says nothing, a slight smile the only thing betraying his reaction.

“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

The first line awakens something in Emma and briefly, a flash of a roomful of books fills her mind. She sees hands encircling her waist, platinum blonde strands falling over her shoulders. She feels his hot breath on her neck, his hold on her tight but gentle as she reads this same book in his lap.

As quickly as it comes, the moment goes and Emma is left confused, picking up the pieces of her broken mind. When she looks at Prince Chevalier, now staring intently at her, she knew there is something more between them than what the prince has told her.

“Prince Chevalier… were we, lovers before I lost my memories?”

He says nothing. Then, he lifts Emma in his arms, throwing her over his shoulders.

“Hey! Let me down!”

The prince walks on, ignoring Emma’s protests. He was taking her deeper into the library, where a door lies hidden in the shelves of books. Prince Chevalier opens it and sets her down. When Emma takes a look around, she notices it was the place she has seen in her dreams. Something tugs at her heart and when she sees the prince sit on one of the few chairs in the room, she is certain she was his once. The image looks foreign yet familiar, strange but comforting, and Emma wants nothing more than to remember. Remember how she fell in love with this man who seems so incapable of loving.

Things change between them after that. As soon as Emma realized the prince was her former lover, he helped her regain her lost memories. He would give her familiar books, books they read together once and when she asks, he would tell her short stories that would bring a flash of a memory in her mind, only to be lost the next second.

As soon as the prince finishes telling her another story, one where he gave her a shelf of books as a Christmas present, she finally crumbles.

“I can’t do this,” she cries, tears falling down her cheeks. “I don’t remember. I can’t. Even if you tell me a hundred stories, I can’t remember, Prince Chevalier. Something tugs at my mind, a brief familiarity but when you tell me these tales… these memories, they seem to belong to another person. Someone that is not me.”

The prince is quiet, staring silently at her. When Emma looks up, she sees his eyes fill with loss, a momentary grief in those cold blue eyes. He says nothing, and stands up.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“I only want to help you.” He says. “I did not realize that my presence was hurting you.”

“You’re not! You are not hurting me. It just feels too much. I remember the warmth of your touch when you hold me. I remember the affection in your eyes when you look at me. I remember the brief glimpses of our love in my mind. I loved you, Prince Chevalier. But I just don’t remember, who you are.”

“Then you do not love me.”

“What?” Emma looks up and for the first time, vulnerability shows clearly in the prince’s blue irises.

“You did not love me for the way I treated you, simpleton. You loved me because you understood. You understood who I was, you saw me as more than a mere beast. If you do not know who I am, then you do not love me now. Maybe you did once, but at this moment, you don’t.”

He looks at her once, then leaves her there, collapsed on the floor and crying her heart out. Once again, Emma wonders how she fell in love with this man in the first place. How she surrendered her heart to him when he treated her this way.

She does not see the prince a few months after that. He actively avoids her, even when Emma would seek him out. Most of the time, he is not in the palace and Emma yearns for the feeling he gives her, even when she does not remember who he is. She tried asking others too. Sariel. Rio. The other princes. They tell her so much yet so little. They tell her of his cruelty and subsequent change when he met her. She feels even more frustrated after that. She knew there is a large part she is missing. What it is, she does not know.

Later that day, a memorial was held for the knights who had fallen in battle. Every prince was there except for the one cloaked in white. Emma tried to bite down her disappointment, but she felt sad nonetheless that the prince wasn’t there.

She watches the rose petals that fluttered with the gentle breeze. It was quiet, a somber tone in the air. She turns her attention to the large stone wall engraved with the names of every fallen soldier, an ache deep in her chest.

“I wanted to see these names.”

“Remembering the names of those with no value to me is unnecessary, but I make sure to memorize the names of every single person who has worth. Allowing their death to be in vain would be an affront to those who utterly devoted themselves to the kingdom.”

Emma staggers, the memory clear in her head. She remembers the prince, a cold beast she thought saw no value in human life. He was clad in his white cloak as rose petals danced in the air around him. She remembered him kneeling in front of the stone, eyes determined as he remembers every name that died protecting the kingdom.

This. This is why she fell in love with the prince despite his cruelty. Why she felt so happy and proud that she loved him despite everyone telling her stories of his brutality. Emma walks away from the hill where the memorial took place, tears streaming down her face.

She did not love the prince because of his actions and perfection. She loved him for his utter devotion to protecting Rhodolite and its people. She loved him because he cared, even when the world around him thinks otherwise. Emma continues to walk, mind whirring with thoughts and heart filled with confusing ache.

At the bottom of the hill, he saw Prince Chevalier walking towards the memorial just as soon as it has finished. She remembered this too. When she thought the prince did not attend because he didn’t care, only to know that he cared more than anyone else.

She ran towards Prince Chevalier, hugging him tightly, even when he felt his surprise at her force.

“What is this, simpleton?”

“I remember,” she says. “Not everything, of course. But I remember you and why I fell in love with you in the first place. I’m sorry, Prince Chevalier.”

He says nothing but he wraps his arms around her, holding her close to him. Emma sighs happily, content.

“I do not know when all my lost memories will be back, Your Highness. Or if I’ll ever get them back. But I remember you, of your devotion to the kingdom and to your people. And that you have saved me from Obsidian even when it would be so easy for you to leave me behind.”

He chuckles. “That would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“It would have,” she laughs. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

Emma looks up at the prince, smiling brightly even as tears rim her eyes.

“I love you, Prince Chevalier.”

His only reply was to hold her cheeks gently in his palms as he kisses her passionately, rose petals decorating the beautiful sky on this beautiful day.