#ikepri cyril

[wordycheeseblob]

Knight of Roses 🌹

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once

The way you did once upon a dream

My entry for Wish Upon an Aide CC in collaboration with the lovely @lorei-writes

[violettduchess]

A/N: This is my gift for @readerinsertfanfiction 💜 The moment I saw Cyran on your list, I was thrilled. I hope you enjoy!

A huge thank you to @ikemenlibrary for her support and friendship and for being a generous, caring host 💜

Prompt: A servant, someone who knew Cyran from before his time in Rhodolite

Cyran x AU Emma

WC: ~4k

Obsidian: the Past

She runs across the cracked, sunbaked cobblestone streets, her treasure wrapped in a cream-colored tea towel and held protectively against her chest. Her worn leather shoes make a pleasing thunking sound against the stones as she hurries past dusty shop windows and faded porches, carefully dodging people on the street.

“Langsam, Emma!” someone yells as she flies past but she doesn’t listen to their warning. She can’t slow down. She has somewhere to be.

Finally she reaches the edge of town and takes a sharp left, leaving the cobblestones behind for a ribbon of dirt road that winds its way along tired hills covered with sparse sage-green grass and dotted with scraggly yellow dandelions. Another turn onto an even smaller path, a faint thing that meanders through the knee-high growth and then, finally, the faded barn comes into view. 

She smiles, pumping her young legs harder, willing them to swallow the distance faster and faster until she reaches the peeling, splintered wooden doors and haphazardly flings one open.

“Cyran? I’m here!!”

The boy, just shy of fourteen, turns away from the wooden beam he has been faux-sparring with, lowering the dull, well-worn practice sword he is so proud of. His hair gleams like fire in the hazy sunlight that shines through the pocked roof. 

Emma hurries over, gulping down huge breaths of musty air as she grabs his thin forearm.

“C’mon. I’m dying to see how they taste.”

Cyran laughs, struggling to sheath his sword as she drags him over to the blanket thrown over the hay in a cozy corner of the barn. This is their favorite place to meet, an escape from the outside world they discovered several years ago while exploring. It is here that Emma sometimes reads to him from one of her treasured books. She’s even shared stories she’s written, romantic tales of princesses and dragons, knights and monsters. Cyran is always the hero, the knight who slays the monsters and rescues the damsel in distress. Emma will change her roles in the stories. 

Sometimes she needs rescuing. 

But sometimes, she is the dragon.

Often they sneak treats to each other, hard biscuits or smoked meat or, if they are really lucky, sweet berries brought across the border from the lush neighboring country of Rhodolite. Cyran’s neighbor is a servant for some of the merchants that make the risky trips over and when he’s lucky, she manages to tuck away a few treasures just for him.

He settles himself down on the frayed checkered blanket and pushes his bright hair away from his forehead, eagerly watching as Emma drops down next to him, laying the tea towel down. Her face is flushed from her run and from the thrill of what she’s managed to bring him.

“Ready?”

He nods, enthusiastically motioning for her to unwrap it already. He has hands that are too big for his young body, growing the way many boys do at this age, in odd fits and spurts. 

Emma leans forward, pushing up the sleeve of her too-big dress and carefully pulls back the edges of the tea towel.

The smell hits them first, the warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of the cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger. It wafts up towards them, exotic and tempting. Cyran breathes in deeply and then sighs happily as he looks at her, eyes bright and admiring.

“It smells so good.”

Cyran had carefully been saving up the exotic store of spices, some of them gifts from his neighbors, others decadent purchases made at the market from his meager earnings made mucking stalls and chopping wood. He knew that Emma would be the one who would create something special with them. Young as she was, she was a talented cook and baker, able to make the most fantastic treats out of the simplest ingredients. And now that she had been given such a treasure trove to work with, she had spun pure magic.

The spiced biscuits are dappled dark brown and gold. When she hands him one, it is with a reverence that echos a priest giving communion or a child receiving a shiny new toy at Christmas.

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Together.”

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes.

“Together.”

They bite into the cookies at the same time. Emma breaks into a proud smile as Cyran closes his eyes, savoring the medley of flavor and even better, the knowledge that she made them just for him.

“It’s good, isn’t it?" she asks, grinning. She sees the look on his face, the way he is practically melting with enjoyment.

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug, feigning indifference.

“I guess……��

“What?!”

He takes another bite, leaning back on one hand. “I mean, they’re ok. But you know, Hilde’s biscuits are also really good–OOF.”

She’s tackled him, throwing herself at him with all the force of a frenzied feline, her nimble fingers scratching at his sides. Cyran breaks into laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to squirm away from her.

“Ok ok Brown Eyes, enough!”

Emma lets him go, sitting back on her heels with a glowing, triumphant smile.

“Never say that about Hilde’s cookies again.”

He pushes himself up, heart pounding furiously in his chest. Only some of it is from laughing. He tears his gaze away from the unsettling beauty of her eyes, traveling up to her hair.

“You’re a mess. You got straw in your hair and your braid is a disaster.”

Emma turns and scoots until she is sitting in front of him. “Since it’s your fault….you fix it.”

Cyran heaves a sigh he doesn’t mean and then settles himself into a comfortable position, reaching forward and with a tenderness and care far beyond most boys his age, begins slowly picking the straw from her messy plait.

Emma’s eyes drift closed as she revels in the attention he’s giving her, the gentle way he untangles her braid and then very slowly begins brushing his fingers through her soft, chestnut-colored hair.

It feels comforting and safe.

It feels thrilling.

It feels like the early evening has come to a standstill and they have all the time in the world.

But their time together is like a rose slowly losing its petals.

A petal falls as he tells her, wide-eyed and shaken, that his neighbor has been killed in her own home, throat opened in the dead of night and left smiling its ghastly red smile until she was discovered hours later. Emma rubs his back, not knowing what else to do. This is not the first death in their village as of late. And it will not be the last.

A petal falls as they lay, side by side, on the blanket in the hay, staring up at the patches of starry sky visible through the holes in the roof. “My parents are scared,” she whispers. He turns his head to stare at her profile and knows it isn’t just her parents who are frightened. “I’ll protect you,” he whispers, voice fierce with youth’s naïve promise. Her gaze remains on the silver stars but she reaches out, taking his hand and squeezes it.

A petal falls as she comes to their favorite spot, face pale as bone, to tell him that her family is leaving. Her father has contacted distant relatives that live far to the north, as far from Rhodolite and the dangers it poses as one can get. Cyran feels like his young heart may break right there in his chest and he will be forced to live the rest of his life with its pieces rattling around inside of him. Though filled with dismay, Emma’s eyes are as beautiful as ever. They shine with tears, rivaling any star they have ever spent time gazing at.

A petal falls as she rushes through the dark, on the night before her family is to leave, her throat burning with feelings she can’t quite name, waves too strong to try and understand for fear they will sweep her away. She bursts through the barn doors and finds him already there, his hair dark as garnet, damp with sweat. He has spent the entire day doing heavy labor, removing heavy wooden beams, hauling ancient and broken equipment, sweeping the dusty, straw-strewn floor. Several lanterns placed around the interior bathe the space in warm, yellow light. The barn is as clean and inviting as he can make it. He wanted to give her one more memory, something beautiful, that she can take with her on her journey away from here. Away from him.

Emma is frozen in place, soaking in all he has done, before finally stopping on the young man at the center of it. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Already his shoulders carry the hint of what manhood will bring him: strength and breadth. Arms that with training will turn hard and sculpted, legs that will lengthen until he is taller than most. He is the faint beginning of what he will become. Emma wonders wildly if she will ever get the chance to see the finished masterpiece.

“Emma,” he says, his voice raw and rough, deeper than she has ever heard it.

She sets down the bundle she is holding, the one she carried so close on the way here, leaving it on top of a weathered wooden barrel.

“Cyran,” she answers, her muscles tense, like a fawn when it hears a crunching in the underbrush.

He starts forward, one hesitant step and that is enough. She flies towards him, throwing her thin arms around his neck and buries her face in his worn linen shirt, clutching him to her. There is power in her small frame, something fierce and bright, a hurricane in crystal. Cyran holds her close, his eyes closing as he breathes in her familiar scent. He’s been teased his whole life because of his last name, but she is the one who reminds him of a rose, who always smells so sweet.

The anticipation of loss that has them clinging to each other slowly ebbs and something else, something that has been burning low and quiet in every laugh, every touch, every glance begins to emerge. She is suddenly aware of the press of her chest against his, of how much taller he is, the earthy smell of his skin. She leans back to look at him and sees the same awareness mirrored in his dark eyes.

Outside a rooster crows, loud and discordant.

Cyran turns his head toward the sound and Emma, sparked by the frantic knowledge that she must leave, grabs his chin, pulling him back to her and rises onto her toes, pressing her lips to his.

It is a sunbeam bursting through gray clouds. A spark breathing life into a pile of dried leaves. It is hope and promise and wonder.

And heartbreak.

With a stifled cry, she steps away, turns and flees the barn, not wanting to see the look on his face as she leaves, not wanting that to be her last memory of him.

Cyran watches with a thundering heart as the door swings shut. Flooded with helplessness and misery, he notices the bundle she left behind. Tenderly he lifts it, undoing the sky-colored ribbon. It’s her favorite handkerchief, white with pale blue forget-me-nots painstakingly embroidered along the edges, and nestled inside are several of her spiced biscuits. His favorites.

Rhodolite: The Present

Rhodolite is so much MORE than she expected. The streets are wider and cleaner and lined with greenery, more trees and flowering bushes and grass than in the entire garden of the palace in Obsidian. There are more people than she expected too, many standing under awnings and lampposts, peeking through windows and around doorways, watchful eyes in beautiful faces following the royal procession as it makes its way towards the palace. 

When she had been told by the Head Chef that they would be accompanying Prince Gilbert and his entourage to Rhodolite, Emma had felt a familiar ringing through the cockles of her heart. Rhodolite is where Cyran was rumored to have ended up. Whispers from the south had traveled her way, over the many years since they parted. He had joined the army when he was of age. He had left Obsidian for the verdure of Rhodolite. He was employed by one of the Princes there. Crumbs of information she had managed to gather, hoarding them tightly like precious drops of mana. 

He may not even be here, she reminds herself as her tired gray mare plods along down the street. She and the other servants are at the end of the procession and most of the people have turned away, not interested in anything but the dangerous Prince Gilbert with his sharp smile and blood-red gaze. 

Still, Emma finds herself scanning the crowds as they pass, looking for any head of red hair. She spots a few but they are never him.

As the overwhelming elegant palace suddenly rises towards the heavens before her, she draws in a sharp breath. 

We’re here…….

…….Is he?

The palace looms closer, a breathtaking monument of pale beauty.

And if so….how in the wide world will she ever find him?

Cyran runs a hand through his thick mass of russet hair as his long strides make quick work of the pathway towards the training hall. It’s late evening and the young, freshly-minted knights are at the end of their training and he needs to make sure everything went well without him there. He knows Lucian is more than capable of leading them through their drills but Cyran has a responsibility to make sure. They are all under his charge.

Entering the hall, he sees several of the knights laughing in a corner. Some are sitting and catching their breath, others are pushing the heavy sandbags they sometimes train with back into their storage room. What he sees reassures him. They look tired and sore, yet satisfied, faces bright with the feeling of accomplishment a tough training session will leave behind.

He’s about to go look for Lucian, expecting a full report when he notices several of the knights standing by the wooden table at the far end of the training circle, the one usually covered with straps for shields and rope and other odds and ends. They’re smiling, far too widely to be discussing anything so mundane as weaponry. Several are chewing. He approaches the table, greeted by his men with smiles and respectful nods. Immediately he notices the tin: it’s round and black, covered with decorative golden swirls. 

“What’s this?” He glances towards the first knight at his left, a tall lad with sandy blond hair.

“They were brought here by an Obsidian servant. She said they were a present for us.”

Cyran frowns, a skeptical look on his face as he reaches inside the tin for one of the golden brown cookies.

“And you didn’t think to–” He was going to ask if they thought accepting gifts from strangers was a good idea when the scent hits him, cutting through the sweat and musk of tired men.

The warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger.

He goes still, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Could it be…..

Something in his face hushes the men around him. They watch, curious as Cyran lifts the cookie and takes a bite. 

The man who sees everything, ever watchful, closes his eyes as he chews and the knights are transfixed by the absolute stillness that has overtaken their leader.

And then those eyes open and something in them has begun to burn, bright and alive.

The other half of the cookie falls to the dusty ground as he turns on his heel and, practically jogging, exits the training area, leaving behind the half-eaten biscuit and a slew of surprised faces.

The rose gardens are somehow even more beautiful in the twilight of evening. The red petals seem to have darkened, shedding their bright rose-red for a sultry scarlet. Shadows emerge from the trimmed hedges, stretching across the winding stone pathways, giving a visitor like Emma glimpses of hidden benches and secret dirt paths leading into clandestine corners of the gardens.

She has taken several of these more narrow, less-trodden paths, not at all afraid of getting lost. Her heart is a bird, flitting between dark branches, full of a nervous, tightly-wound energy she can’t quite explain. 

As the sky darkens to a deep navy blue and the first stars open their eyes, Emma pauses in front of a gray stone fountain. Two swans, nuzzling their beaks together, bodies curved towards one another as a blossoming flower rises above them, water spraying outward in celebration. She tilts her head, the romantic in her sighing at the way the two swans perfectly mirror one another, two halves of a whole, two souls in perfect harmony. So enchanted is she by the fountain that she doesn’t hear the footfall on the path, doesn’t notice the man who has stopped several meters away from where she is standing, the sight of her freezing him in his tracks.

“Emma.”

She jumps at the deep voice, her eyes wide and dark as she turns towards the sound. The owner of said voice is standing, half in shadow, at the place where the small path to the fountain begins, beneath a shadowy arch of crimson roses. She is so startled, she doesn’t even register that he has said her name.

“Oh….s'il te plaît, excuse-moi,” she says quickly, doing her best to remember the phrases of the common language spoken in Rhodolite. “J'espère que ça va…” She trails off, trying to remember how to say she hopes she is allowed to be here but the man takes another step closer, leaving the blanket of shadows and stepping into the fading light.

Even the dusky hue of evening cannot hide the red of his hair.

A gasp as soft as the flutter of a bird’s wing escapes her. The young boy she knew juxtaposed against this tall, broad man before her sends her heart into a tailspin. Her hand flies to her mouth as she takes him in. She sees the same bright light of recognition and admiration and overwhelming emotion plain as day on his beautiful face.

“Cyran?” The word is a whisper, a breathless repetition of the name she has kept in her prayers for decades.

His eyes never leave her, almost as if he has the power to hold her there with his gaze, to keep her from vanishing into the realm of his dreams where she has lived for so long. Slowly, he reaches up and loosens the laces at the top of his tunic. His hand slides inside and when it emerges, he is holding a small square of cloth. As he slowly opens it, her heart falters.

It’s white, with pale blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the edges.

He holds it out to her, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. That handkerchief has lived next to his heart, in an inner pocket, one he has sewn into every shirt he has ever owned since the day he watched her leave.

“I think…..this belongs to you, Brown Eyes.”

She chokes back a sob, unable to contain the thunderstorm of emotion coursing through her and runs to him, falling into his arms as naturally as a willow bends to the wind, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Cyran wraps his arms around her, sheltering her, holding her the way he has imagined a thousand times. His throat burns with all the words he has ached to say, all those sleepless nights spent remembering the lilt of her smile, the music of her laughter, the bittersweet taste of her kiss.

Emma squeezes her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him, at once so familiar and yet so strange. Her arms wind around his waist as she presses herself against him, drinking in the sensation of his body on hers. 

This is Cyran….her Cyran…..her….

A thought pierces her heart as she suddenly steps away from him, eyes wide, still so beautiful as they glimmer with the remnants of her tears.

“Oh…I…I didn’t mean…..you could be married. I shouldn’t have-”

His laughter is coarse, rough with emotion, a roll of rushing water as it careens over the lip of a cliff.

“As if I could ever love anyone else.”

Love…..

As if summoned by the very word, the moon itself parts the soft gray clouds, flooding the small section of the garden with silvery light. The tinkling of the fountain fills the momentary silence. 

Cyran’s cheeks suddenly flush, a hot mixture of embarrassment and panic overriding the elation of the previous moment.

“I…..I don’t mean to presume of course that you feel the same. It has been a long time and…..” He trails off, wincing. Fluster is such an uncharacteristic state of being for Cyran. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry. I–” 

His words are cut off as Emma launches herself back into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

“Please, don’t apologize.” She tilts her head up to look at him, still in awe of how she sees the young man he was and the handsome man he has become in his beautiful eyes, in his exquisite face. “It has always been you.”

Cyran drags air into his lungs, hardly able to believe he isn’t dreaming. His rough fingers capture her chin, his thumb running over the sensitive skin just under her lower lip. 

Slowly, he leans down as she stretches upwards, eager and nearly trembling with emotion. 

He kisses her, his hand still cupping her face. Gently his mouth moves over hers as he tells her a wordless story of longing, of a bruised heart that learned to somehow keep beating. 

He kisses her, a strong arm pulling her closer, his lips and tongue weaving the tale of a young soldier who never forgot the girl with the tender heart and radiant spirit. The soldier who dreamed of her face during his darkest nights and longed for her laughter on days of sunshine.

She meets him, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, sliding her palms along his broad shoulders, clutching him as she answers his tale, confessing without words how he has never left her heart. How his smile was her light in times of worry and despair. How seeing him again has been her northern star from the moment of parting.

Only the moon knows how long they stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s yearning.

When they finally part, Cyran rests his forehead against hers, still keeping her tightly in his embrace. He may never let go again.

“You’re….in the employ of Prince Gilbert. I am here.” He frowns ever so slightly as he brushes several loose strands of hair away from Emma’s charmingly flushed cheek. “This could get complicated.”

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Yes…..but we’ll figure it out.”

And suddenly he is carried back in time to an evening when her eyes shone just as brightly, just as excitedly, a young girl with something to give a young boy, a homemade cookie, an offering of love.

“Together.” 

Her voice echoes across the years, that word wrapping itself around his battered heart, a balm, a blessing.

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes, tenderly stroking the silk of her hair, and answers her now as he did back then. 

“Together.”

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @wordycheeseblob

[xxsycamore]

😘 with cyran? he needs more love.

[😘] 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚢𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗…

CYRAN:

"Do you need something?"

You blink at Cyran's response to you suddenly smooching him on the forehead as soon as you find it in the range of your lips. Is it so strange that you felt like doing that...?

You try again.

"Do you need something?"

Huh. Cyran must be mistaking you for that "idiot prince" to think that this is you pestering him for attention. Does Clavis do something similar to this? Tap his shoulder repeatedly until he gets a reaction?

Nonetheless, you smooch Cyran again, this time on the cheek.

"Is something the matter?"

Cyran's face has become one massive call bell, it's official. You feel like a master calling for their servant, but the difference is, you don't want his services. You only want to get a reaction out of him. Another kind of reaction.

Kissing his other cheek, and the first one again, you find yourself suddenly hoping he'd repeat his phrase again, because this time-

"How can I-"

Muah!

Right on his soft, agape lips, you kiss Cyran one more time, closing your eyes for the brief second that stretches out eternally in your head. But you only get a taste of real timelessness when Cyran captures your chin to deepen the kiss. You're soaring in a feeling that is so soothing, your yearning for his love being fed, but with undertones of new excitement coming from the surprise. He truly turned the tables on you most unexpectedly.

When you both withdraw, he's awfully red in the face.

"Got it, you wanted a kiss. Next time I hope you can be more direct about it."

∎ Steal My Heart!! - xxsycamore’s 1500 followers celebration event | 💌 event masterlist

[thewitchofbooks]

Cyril Rose ~ Facts

AN: I'm finally done with the important facts we know so far for both Cyril and Lucian, and since Cyril won, I'll post him first! Thank you very much to everyone who voted and to everyone reading this!

Warnings: All of the information is from the jp version of the game! Spoilers from Clavis' main Story, GW story sale bonus (detective), Clavis' 2nd birthday, Clavis' story events, Chevalier's 2nd anniversary winner party event story. Everything will be put under the cut:

The starting fact is his name. Cyril Rose was raised in a village in Obsidian, but when he joined the military, many said his last name sounded like he came from the country of roses.

Cyril and Clavis used to call each other "loser" when they first met during the war. Cyril did because he couldn't believe how someone can be like Clavis (putting his life on the line to save others, accepting everyone no matter what and a lot more), as well as how he could stay so calm during everything (but it turned more to teasing between them). Clavis was calling him a loser, because he didn't like how Cyril was ready to give up at that time and was able to help him regain his spirits and join Rhodolite's side.

Cyril is a very gentle and kind guy, but can also be funny with his snarky comments towards Clavis (something between two great friends)

Cyril calls Clavis an "idiot prince"

He has very bright red hair that are very noticeable and mentioned by other characters, (Chevalier, Sariel and more), including Emma.

Cyril doesn't have a lover (and Clavis made sure to remind him in the "Bittersweet Valentine" story event). Cyril told him to stop pretending as if he wasn't in the same position only a whole ago (Since Clavis' route released)

As confirmed in Clavis' 2nd birthday story, Cyril is a very fast runner and a very strong knight. He was able to run to the other side of the town with Emma in his arms (bridal style) and didn't stop at all (<- Emma was described "as light as a feather) and it was all to prank Clavis.) In Chevalier's 2nd anniversary No.1 story, we saw that he can match Chevalier in a sword fight, with fast and strong moves.

He knows how to help a woman get dressed and he can style hair buns, that look elegant and simple (Also from Clavis' 2nd birthday)

Him and Lucian are rumored as really good friends. It was said by Clavis, but he added that when they go out to drink, they're never seen sitting together on the same table. Also, Cyril was seen drinking grape juice while complaining to Rio and Emma about Clavis, while Luciam was most likely drinking alcohol (<-From the GW story sale bonus)

When that happened, he wasn't wearing any gloves (so he either took off his gloves because he wasn't working, or he doesn't wear any). He held Emma and Rio's hands in each of his, to guide them away from Clavis and he took them to Lucian's table.

According to Emma, his hands are rough from training, but very warm and safe.

Apparently, he tries every kind of new juice Clavis comes up with and that time, it was a new herbal juice (as punishment for sneaking from work). He didn't like it at all, yet he still drank it all.

They started bickering and while Emma was thinking that it looked like as if Cyril and Clavis were having fun, Lucian, after he used the mind reading skills he learned from Chevalier, nodded and agreed with her.

He is also very honest and loyal towards Clavis and the other princes (especially Chevalier)

He used to be just a third rate soldier in Obsidian, along with his friends Kai and Hugo. Hugo seems to be the youngest, since he uses honorifics to address Cyril (in the Japanese version). Cyril is probably the oldest of the three, or similar with Kai.

Gilbert wants him back to Obsidian, but Cyril refuses to betray Clavis, leaving Gilbert heartbroken.

The village where Cyril used to love was poor, but the situation wasn't as bad as the parts on the borders between Obsidian and Rhodolite, due to the corrupted nobles.

He is greatly respected by Chevalier, who saw his value. Chevalier knows his name, but prefers to use the nickname "Red head". Same with the others. Even Clavis understands that. Cyril also respects Chevalier, but he thinks he is scary.

He is the lead knight of the foreign affairs faction and he is the one training the knew knights (not the soldiers).

Chevalier trusts him enough to let him in his room and also casually speaks to him. Even though they were trying to keep it secret (them leaving their duties for the day and going for drinks), he somewhat talked about it to Chevalier. But Clavis was hiding in Chevalier's room, so he exposed them. That's why he made him drink that "juice" (<-GW bonus story)

In the "propose to you" story event (Clavis', which is coming soon in EN), Clavis and Emma were getting engaged with Chevalier as the witness. Chevalier didn't look up at them at all and only when they left, he looked at Cyril to answer that he wasn't staying and he was going home with a smirk (Clavis was sad/mad at Chevalier who wouldn't look at how beautifully dressed Emma was). Cyril called him a troublesome brother after he left.

Originally, he was mostly hanging out with Rio for said drinks, but when Emma is free, they let her tag along (<- The bar they go to is only for the court's servants, I'm pretty sure it's to talk about their employees at this point🤣)

Cyril knows that many little boys dream of becoming knights when they grow up, but he, himself, felt like the job he was doing doesn't have a purpose, because lately, he had only been collecting banana peels and cleaning after Clavis.

Just for this reason, Emma and Rio were thanking him for his hard work and looked at him as if he was their savior.

He also complains that the knights have to eat bananas all the time, but they don't keep them very full. He doesn't want to even mention the reason why they do that.

He has more than once said to Emma to use Clavis' wallet for expensive things.

Cyril actually gets very offended when he gets told that he is like a natural born knight. Clavis was the one who told him, when he was being "too sweet" towards Emma. Cyril warned him to never say that again.

He is picking up Clavis' lines. While I don't remember it being translated in the EN version of the game, in the JP this happened: (<- Clavis' route, when they met with the rebels at the borders)

Clavis:"I don't understand why they don't want to welcome such a beautiful man"

Cyril:"Please, stop saying that. It's not fashionable"

(The fashionable comment)

He is the same age as Clavis, so he is 29 years old!

AN: Thank you very much for reading until the end! I hope these facts were helpful! I personally recommend reading both ends of Clavis' upcoming proposal event for more Cyril content!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Just your normal everyday convo with Fei (Ikepri OC) and Cyran

Cyran: What do you have there?

Fei: Wasabi.

Cyran: Wa-sa-bi?

Fei: It's a fairly pungent plant that Kogyoku uses in cooking, but might have some health benefits. Prince Keith got it from Prince Kagari, who then brought some over on his last visit for me to study. He specifically told me that this was only to be shared with me and not Prince Clavis.

...

Though I'm wondering what would happen if I ground it up and fed it to the prince.

Cyran: Potentially poisoning a prince aside, you realize that Prince Clavis will get his hands on the plant and use it in his future cooking endeavors, right?

Fei: *sigh*

[corpiote]

cyran

I loved getting to see him so much

[aquagirl1978]

The Strong and Silent Type - Cyran Rose x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

Pairing: Cyran Rose x Reader

Prompt: long-haired Cyran

Tags: fluff

“How was your day, Cyran?”

You looked up from the book you were reading to watch your soldier enter the room silently. He shrugged off his cloak, his long ponytail cascading down his back, draping it on the back of a chair before approaching you in the bed.

“It was okay,” he said simply as he sat next to you on the bed. 

You stared into Cyran’s warm eyes as you mulled over his answer. For Cyran was the strong and silent type; he was a man of few words. “Okay” for Cyran could mean that his day went off without a hitch and was relatively boring. Or it could mean Chevalier stopped by while he was training his troops and offered a nod of approval. Or it could mean Clavis unleashed pure mayhem in the palace and Cyran wass just happy to have survived the chaos alive and unscathed. 

Judging from the tired look in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as he sat, you guessed it was most likely the last one.

“Come here,” you whispered as you placed your book on the nightstand, patting your now empty lap. 

Cyran inched closer until his body was almost touching yours, and rested his head in your lap. You immediately reached for his ponytail; long and neat, your fingers wove through the long, red strands before untying it, letting his hair flow freely over his shoulders. 

His body shuddered, ever so slightly, as your fingernails scratched his scalp, before relaxing, almost melting into you as your free hand found his, your fingers interlacing. 

Soaking in the silence, the only sounds around were the synchronized beating of your hearts and the whisper-soft breaths from your lips.

“Rest, my love,” you whispered as you pressed a kiss upon his temple, his eyes drifting closed, his body preparing for a peaceful sleep by your side.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @violettduchess @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage

[aide-falls]

Ok here is my design of Cyran Rose, I struggled with designing him a lot more then I did with Emidio, Emidio kinda just jumped onto the page but Cyran I tried like 7-8 different designs till I found something I was happy with, I gave him a few small scattered freckles as I thought they fit him well and some small scattered scars I’m sure he would have got from obsidian soldier training, protecting Clavis, and from Clavis’ pranks lol, special thanks to my friend Chelsea and @chirp-a-chirp for letting me run many many design changes by them and for giving me their ideas and feedback! (Chirp had the wonderful idea for the obsidian and Rhodolite gems and the Clavis rose lapel pin) 💕

[norel-ravenclaw]

Would You Rather Ikepri Scenarios

Fandom: Ikemen Prince (otome game)

Featured characters: Clavis, Chevalier, Cyran, Keith, Licht, Sariel, Yves, Luke, Jin, Leon

Genre: Shenanigans and Spicy Romance

Rating: 14+

Word count: 5

Description: Would You Rather poll result scenarios! Your faves and a couple of mine.

WARNINGS: | spicy scenarios, nothing terribly explicit | it would seem I underestimated my appreciation of introducing spice from 0-100 lmao | mxw |

Clavis

This idiot is gonna be the death of me: a timeline.

8:00 - The Kidnapping.

I blindfolded Clavis and got him to the awaiting carriage.

8:15 - Arrival (And Hasty Lipstick Reapplication).

After a… entirely uneventful carriage trip into town, we arrive at the surprise destination. A school.

8:19 - The Reveal.

To my surprise, Clavis gasps in absolute delight as the ‘Science Faire’ banner is unfurled, and the crowd is ushered into the dining hall, set up with tables and experiments everywhere. A child or two stands nervously beside each setup (none of which I could explain at a glance).

8:26 - Wow He’s Already Having Such A Good Time.

Clavis holds a little girl up to pour a concoction into a paper-mache mountain, and the gathered crowd shrieks and cheers as a fiery, foamy explosion goes off.

9:34 - My Lover’s Ego Is Irreparably Boosted.

“You’re the best, Mr Clavis!” “See mine next, Mr Clavis!” “Wow, you’re so smart, Mr Clavis!”

10:15 - Everyone’s New Favourite Prince

After going to every single table, chatting with every single child about every single science topic, we reach the end.

10:18 - The Inspirational Speech (And Intervention)

Clavis is asked to give a speech on the importance of science and being curious, improving the mind and inspiring innovations of the future. I step in quickly once the topic turns to pranks.

11:53 - The Luncheon

After a luncheon of being inundated with students, parents, and fawning teachers, we finally escape back to the carriage.

11:59 - The Long Ride Back

Another entirely uneventful carriage ride that takes the long way back… for no particular reason.

Chevalier

“I finished number three.”

“Four is on your left.” My eyes flick up to her in the jostling carriage. We’ve been reading non-stop since dawn. The northwestern territory is a long journey from the capitol, but the simpleton insisted on accompanying me nonetheless.

To pass the time, I brought a book series we recently discovered.

While I began book five, she began three. Her body showed her weariness, but her eyes showed her enthusiasm for the story. As she swayed to the motion of the carriage, her ankles crossed with mine, a smile tugged at my lips.

So this is bliss.

Cyran

“I think that’s the last of it,” he pants. “Finally.”

Behind us in an abandoned wing of the castle is a room filled to bursting with crates, boxes, glass tubes, and flasks.

The reason for our frantic gathering task: a vial found by the gardens labeled ‘Hallucinogenic Gas’.

Cyran helped me find Prince Clavis’ secret stash of illicit powders and such, and we hastily removed them to a temporary hiding place.

I lean back against the railing of the abandoned staircase to catch my breath, but the knight bolts forward. I gasp as he roughly pulls me into his arms.

“My lady! The masonry in this part of the castle is in disrepair, it might not… might not be safe.”

Suddenly realizing our proximity, he clears his throat and carefully steps back. I am grateful for the dim light of the evening to mask my furious blush.

Cyran crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “You certainly are brave to go up against him like this.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “You’re either brave or stupid to work for him like this.”

He smirks, and brushes a lock of red hair from his face. “Both, milady. No doubt.”

I am left unable to doubt the reason my heart starts to beat faster.

Keith

We lie in bed together on an oddly warm autumn night. The windows are open, a brass telescope still set up, pointed towards the stars. My nightdress is bunched around my thighs, one of which is draped over his. Keith’s large, gentle hands stroke me slowly. One on my hair, and the other on the sensitive skin of my wrist. He traces constellations there, holding me to consciousness just enough to be able to guess most of them. In the silence, we breathe together, in our own little world.

Licht

The spring breeze bends the blades of grass around us as I try to unfurl the picnic blanket. My first try, however, underestimates the power of this breeze, sending it up and over my head.

A gorgeous, heavenly, completely unexpected sound rings out - Licht’s laugh.

He helps toss it back over my head to free me, a smirk on his lips. I look up at him with what has to be a lovesick grin.

“What’s that for?”

“I love you.”

His crimson eyes widen at my declaration. Then he melts into another precious smile. “I love you too.”

He leans in towards me for a kiss, but suddenly we’re falling, sprawled in a tangle of limbs and blanket.

“Marron!” he gasps, grumbling as he quickly sits up. The beautiful horse tosses its head behind us, stamping impatiently by the picnic basket.

I can’t help but laugh. “You’ll get your carrots soon enough, goodness.”

My lover’s face twists a little. “Carrots?”

“I packed them separately, don’t worry.”

He huffs a sigh and pulls a stray leaf out of my hair. “Good. Otherwise I’d have to eat you out here instead.”

Our eyes meet, red tinting our cheeks.

“There’s always room for dessert…?”

Sariel

The padded bench in the library has evidently long been a subject of fierce contention.

There are rumours in the palace that Prince Nokto lost his virginity on this bench. Not to mention all of the maids and noblewomen who claim to have been… entertained by certain princes there.

However, considering that it was part of the palace’s original architecture, they couldn’t tear it out.

Sariel finally ordered that a compartment be opened up beneath it to store bolts of replacement fabric every time it was proven… defiled.

After one such replacement, I found the devil one early morning, asleep on that very bench he hated so much.

Surrounded by the pale silver morning light streaming in from the tall windows, he looks like something out of a dream. Seeing him looking so restful, my own tiredness is brought back to my attention.

Next thing I know, my books are on the floor, and I’m settling in next to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” comes his sleepy response.

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

He sighs, stretching out his legs. “This is awfully early for you to be up, anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But I missed you, and I was too happy to see you here.”

His eyes finally open. Their amethyst depths consider me, wrapped around his arm. At last, his lips twist into a smirk. “I just had this fabric replaced too. Pity.”

Yves

I felt guilty, at first, using her as my personal doll. But she seemed perfectly happy, excited even, at the prospect of me choosing her outfit for the day. She put on everything I suggested, sitting obediently as I fixed her hair. She then insisted on putting on my earrings for me. Not that I know why! It was a silly thing to do, I’m sure. I am perfectly capable of putting on my own jewelry, thank you!

My lessons and chiding her on matters of etiquette have finally begun to pay off. Even her walk is improving. She looked far more the part of an elegant lady today. Naturally, after spending so much time in my presence, my impeccable mannerisms were sure to rub off at some point.

But then… she was awfully tired when we finally returned to the palace. It would have been a bother for her to stumble on the stairs on the way back to her room, so… I offered she stay in mine. And then… I offered to help her out of her jewelry. …And to brush out her hair. …Then out of her corset, and dress. Then… Oh enough already! You nosy snoop, you know exactly what happened so just get out of here already! You don’t need me to say it!

Luke

Luke’s chest makes a wonderful pillow as we lay in the grass, pitch black night all around us. The gentle breeze blows the water of the nearby pond, making a soft lulling background for our stargazing.

“There’s another one!” I point to a streak of silver in the sky.

“Hm, I wish… for more honey cakes.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “You’ve wished for honey four times already!”

He chuckles, the sound resonating around me. “I’m running out of things to wish for! There’s too many!” He grabs my arm as another cosmic line catches his eye. “There’s one!”

“Alright, I wish for… a kiss.”

Luke freezes for a moment. “A kiss…? Alright then.”

Next thing I know, I’m sliding down his muscular torso to his lap as he sits up. Leaning down, he grins at me. “Seems kinda silly, to waste a whole shooting star wish on just one kiss.”

Our lips meet briefly, and we stare at each other. “…Should I wish for more than that?”

Something flashes in his emerald eyes, and he runs an arm beneath my legs. “I think you should.”

Jin

I grunt as I’m forced down onto the stone floor… again.

Jin huffs above me, his chest heaving a little from the exertion. “That’s another loss, kid.”

I groan, and his laugh quickly morphs into a serious expression.

“You really need to get this self defense stuff, ya know. You need to take this seriously.”

Grateful for the momentary respite, I laugh. “Hm, I didn’t think I’d have to explain to you of all people the ability to take something very seriously… while having the time of your life.”

His burgundy eyes widen, as does his grin. “Oh, having the time of your life pinned underneath me, hm? You like being manhandled?”

I bite my lip in response and have the perfect view while his mind short circuits.

He licks his, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Leaning in close, he whispers in my ear, his voice rich and deep. “Alright then, naughty thing. If you manage to get away from me three times, I’ll do all this to you naked.”

“…Deal!”

Leon

At first it sounded like a terrible idea. Who in their right mind would climb onto the roof of a castle??

And yet, I should have had more faith in him. He had found, years ago, a flat spot outside of a window on the top ministerial floor, away from prying eyes and balconies.

And so we cuddle close with his cloak over both our shoulders, a basket of snacks between us (definitely not stolen from Yves’ discarded reject batch), watching the sunset.

…Hopefully no one questions the scattered crumbs and frosting of an exploded cookie down in the courtyard.

Not by best work, but hopefully worth a smile or two~ Any writing suggestions?

[pos-sam]

(PS, does anybody know if he has a name yet?)

[wordycheeseblob]

Clavis (begrudgingly): we'll be displaying Chevalier's prized collection of achievements at the Glory hall

Cyran: *whispering* fsfsfsfs

Clavis: I have been informed it's actually "hall of fame"

[katriniac]

@briars7 It's himmmmmm 😍❤️‍🔥👄🔥

Cyran kiss? Please?

A/N: Here you go anon!

Word Count: 809

You blame it on the rain. It’s the reason you stop in your tracks. The reason you find yourself turning, your heart thundering in your chest, to face the armory you fled just seconds ago, leaving Cyran and all the sudden, tightly-strung feelings behind. You hadn’t wanted to go. Every cell in your body was screaming for you to stay, stay right where you were with his fingers touching yours as you handed over the letter Clavis sent you to bring him. It can’t wait, the prince had said, his eyes glittering like sunlight winking off gold. You had to go now to Cyran, despite the darkening sky. Despite the electric smell in the air.  And so you had gone and found him in the stone armory, surrounded by weapons. He was stripped down to his unlaced, white linen tunic, damp with sweat, cleaning his sword after a particularly grueling training session. You think your heart might have raised the white flag then and there at the sight of him.

The next few moments were a blur: You had cleared your throat and he looked up, locking eyes with you. His beautiful eyes miss nothing. You’re certain he saw the faint blush of pink across your cheeks. The catch of your breath as you drank in the way his tunic clung in just the right places, teasing the sculpted muscle underneath. Unlaced just enough to ignite a shower of sparks through your body. He saw how you licked your lips unconsciously and how your hand tightened around the letter. And he certainly saw the way the faint pink across your cheeks deepend to a rich flush when you touched, his calloused fingers brushing yours. 

With a loud whoosh those sparks inside turned into a roaring bonfire and you didn’t know what to do…..except run. Run from the overwhelming heat of desire you felt in your veins and saw painted across his usually stoic visage. You burst through the armory doors, barreling towards the path that would lead you back to the palace.

But you’re now only a few strides gone and the clouds have opened up the floodgates, soaking you through in just the few moments you’ve been outside. And so it is because of the rain you turn around. 

And you see him. 

He’s just stopped in his tracks but you know he was coming after you. The rain has darkened his red hair to a deep garnet and graciously revealed all the secrets his tunic had only been hinting at before. You stare at one another through the haze of water, neither one moving, frozen by one another’s gaze. 

One heartbeat. 

Then another.

And then you’re running back towards him and his long legs are swallowing the distance between you until you meet like a clap of thunder, falling into one another’s arms. His mouth is warm yet slick with cool rainwater and you are dizzy at the contrast. Your hands slide over his broad shoulders, over the soft, translucent material of his tunic. You feel the lines of muscle, the strength of them. How many times had you imagined touching him? How many nights did it haunt your dreams? You are determined to get your fill, here and now. 

Your restless fingers are not still. One hand grips the nape of his neck. The other travels upwards, pushing in the thick expanse of his hair. You gasp against his lips at the shocking thrill of curling your fingers into those crimson tresses, at the way his large hand grips your waist tighter when you do. The unflappable soldier is bending under your touch. What will he do when he tastes you? You part your lips, bold and unapologetic. The rough sound that escapes his throat tells you it was the right thing to do.

You’ve snapped the thin threads of self-control he was still holding onto, the very same self-control he has made a mantel of and armored himself with. Gone is the serious man from Obsidian with the somber eyes. Instead you hold a man incandescent with a hunger that only you can satiate. His kiss is devouring, determined to leave no part of you untasted. He steals your breath, swallows your gasps, drinks from your lips. Over and over he kisses you until your legs shake and your blood is a river of fire in your veins. Soon your mouth is not enough. He needs more. His lips scavenge your cheeks, your jawline, and then lower, following the line of your neck. Everywhere he kisses you burns and the raindrops that land there in his wake feel cold as ice. 

Your head falls back, baring your throat to him, facing the gray clouds and falling rain with only one thought shining through the haze like the bright, blinding beam of a lighthouse: 

More.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

[xxsycamore]

@drewadoodle-dandy asked: i think @wordycheeseblob is on hiatus so I want to request something for them! Cyran and 🤭 whispering something embarrassing into his ear. Maybe he's used to it from Clavis but not from us! i don't know if thats a good prompt I just don't want them to miss an opportunity to see their beloved Cyran congrats on your milestone mo, and happy Valentine's day :)

AND I THINK IT'S @wordycheeseblob 'S BDAY TODAY?? I can't believe my procrastination led to this perfect timing. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! (I ugh. might have taken a look at what convos have been happening in your blog today and took inspiration....) 🎉🎉 AND THANK YOU DREW!

[🤭] 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝙲𝚢𝚛𝚊𝚗 '𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛…

CYRAN:

Your way from point A to point B in the gardens doesn't run by the training grounds, last time you checked. If anything, it makes the walk longer, but noone needs to know about that. Lately, your feet have been taking you around this spot of the palace a little too often...

There he is, today too. Even before you can turn the corner and spot him you can hear his voice, raised up a few necessary octaves as he leads the training of the new knights under him. Unlike them which are still clad in their armor, Cyran has stripped the upper part of it, leaving him in a plain white button-up. They must be about to wrap it up for the day soon, you need to get going before someone notices you lingering around...

"You there - That's not how you swing a sword. You haven't been paying attention. Here, give this to me."

Stern but patient, Cyran takes the heavy sword from the knight's hands and prepares to demonstrate the movement. He takes the correct stance, making sure everyone's paying attention. They are, so are you. Then, he raises the sword over his head.

Swoosh!

Under the impact of his rapidly tightening pectorals, one of the buttons on Cyran's chest flies off.

Your jaw is slack as everyone pretends they didn't just see that and instead focus to their best extent on the perfect demonstration and hurry to recreate it.

"Okay, go rest now."

Darn it, you got caught in it and now it's too late to make your exit unnoticed. Gulping down, you resume your peaceful walk, well-knowing that you'll cross paths with the lead knight of the Foreign affairs faction who now stands with hands on his hips overseeing the emptying of the training grounds.

Eyes involuntarily darting to his chest, you bite your lip - no, you can't let him walk around like that! Ignoring the screams of your inner self, you let out a small cough to gain Cyran's attention and lean in to whisper in his ear so that no nosey knights can accidentally overhear you.

Sir Cyran, I've always wanted to say you sport a knight's armor better than anyone.

Cyran looks at you. Really looks at you. The tips of his ears are lost amidst his unruly maroon hair but that doesn't stop you from spotting how they're in fact camouflaging themselves in it with just how red they've gotten.

"I-... I'm only following the code. Thank you."

Oh boy, wait until he walks in front of a mirror and finds out exactly why you made that remark... Too bad you're not going to be there to see it, granted that your soul hasn't left your body until then.

∎ Steal My Heart!! - xxsycamore’s 1500 followers celebration event | 💌 event masterlist

[thewitchofbooks]

With the newest (ongoing) party event in ikepri jp, that was all I could think about with those rabbit cakes 🥲 (very very old doodle)

[dark-frosted-heart]

Seeing the Cyril/Cyran love going around was motivation for me to finally (lazily) color the sketch of him and my OC, Fei (platonic)

A break from herb foraging

[corpiote]

chev helped clavis bully cyran