#oc: navid riahi

[sorcererrezan]

“happy ending” crowns, with fai free to be playful and navid to be unguarded. they’re in love your honor 🥰

art by @twiddletaffy | characters for @ataleofcrowns

[megaeratheefury]

hello omg that r/crown prompt was so soft and well-written i just... if it's not too much trouble, would you consider writing one for x/crown but with the prompt, "you can call me whenever you want... even if you don't have a reason to." 👀

thank you for such an inspiring prompt, anon! i literally created my X romancing crown just so i could read the route and fill this prompt. 🥰

i hope y’all enjoy crown navid, who is my love letter to @ataleofcrowns’ X 🥺💌

ps. i have an atoc sideblog now! askbox is open for r/crown and x/crown prompts over at @sorcererrezan 💛

—

Navid finds out about Xelef’s return to the city via a messenger from the Crescent Blades. Apparently the Pale Sword himself saw it fit to give advance notice, though whether it is because he is the Crown or because he is Navid is still elusively up for interpretation.

Typical Xelef. 

Navid conceals having to swallow the piece of his heart that jumped up his throat at Xelef’s impending return. He doesn’t reveal any additional curiosities about how far away the Blades are or how long they plan on staying to the mercenary, maintaining instead a welcoming though busy countenance. Internally he runs over his schedule over the next few weeks to calculate his free time while he calls for a servant to show the messenger to one of the rooms in the guest quarters. 

The more rational and less giddy part of him tries to temper his eagerness—where he and Xelef stand with each other is as opaque as it is exciting. ‘You are both but distractions,’ it reminds. Not for their duties necessarily, but for their idiosyncratic inner turmoil. There’s something about Xelef—whether its his acute sensitivity, his devil may care attitude, or his unflagging self-assuredness—that makes it easier for him to escape the gaping maw of trauma he’s left unprocessed and memories his mind has already saw fit to protect him from.

Navid has never faced a distraction quite like Xelef, after all. 

And perhaps, he considers when the sellsword greets him with an unabashed grin and an embrace that lingers a few days later, Xelef has never faced a distraction quite like him either.

—

“So General Delal has finally scrubbed off the decade old rust on the Imperial Army, has she?” Xelef’s words are as light as the breeze that dances around them. They’re in a sitting area nestled in the corner of an upper floor with high ceilings, enclosed by open windows more than walls. It’s the Crown’s favorite with its bright light and how it only takes one step into his imagination to feel like he’s sitting in the sky. 

Navid drinks from his cup of tea—perfectly brewed and sweetened, he’d have to compliment Siham on his attention to detail later—before responding. Xelef always speaks with hidden context. Navid reasons that it could be because the man himself processes so much information outside of just what’s spoken whenever he interacts with others. The practice of figuring out what Xelef really means in any situation is a more efficient lesson in navigating politics than a week of interacting with the nobles. He guesses that in this situation it is equally likely that Xelef is inquiring about the strength of his security as he is looking for something with which to needle the general.

He has to remind himself not to project motives or objectives onto Xelef just because of his own expectations and hopes. But it’s hard not to, when for all intents and purposes, Xelef seems to have returned to see him. He offered up the veil of having business in the city and giving the Blades a break, but Navid has gotten even better at reading people since they last saw each other. 

You have to pay attention to what Xelef does, he’s learning. And take what he says with a grain of salt. As it stands, the sellsword has managed to squeeze himself into every bit of free time that Navid has had luxury for since his arrival earlier this week: be it testing his combat training, joining him for a meal, or inviting him to the Red Lantern and then personally escorting him back to his quarters. For safety, they both reason, considering how the last time went. But there’s an almost palpable tension that only grows whenever they’re alone together, and Navid somehow intuitively knows that they’re approaching the edge of something they may not be able to dismiss after the fact.

He’s never backed down from an adventure though.

Navid settles his cup in its saucer before replying, a touch of genuine pride coating his words, “Yes, she’s seen to it personally.”

He meets Xelef’s eyes, can feel a smirk dancing on his lips as he continues, “Why? Planning on invading me soon?”

Xelef’s gaze heats up in the face of the suggestion Navid doesn’t bother to conceal, lingering on the expanse of his chest and arms that the diagonal drape of his tunic leaves exposed. 

“I could try,” Xelef leans closer, drawing Navid into his orbit until he can almost feel the air behind his words. This tucked away into the palace, behind an army and the full strength of the guards, Xelef’s attention isn’t split by trying to foresee an attack. The full weight of his focus builds up a thrill that pounds through Navid’s entire being. He can feel his pulse in his palms just as clearly as he can see the green of Xelef’s eyes shift from lighter to darker.

“How successful do you think I’d be? In your infallible opinion as the Crown.” 

“As it stands?” Navid pretends to weigh the question, using the pause as an excuse to let his own eyes do some appreciating. He doesn’t flatter himself by believing that Xelef dressed just for him today, but the way the fabric parts across his broad chest when he props an elbow on the table is too effective to not be intentional.

Spirits but does he look irresistible. And he knows it, too. Navid can’t hide the sentiment from him—not that he wants to, anyway. Xelef tries his damnedest to rile him up every time they see each other and Navid would be doing them both a disservice if he didn’t make Xelef face the consequences of his own boldness.

“Near impossible,” Navid answers like fate herself gave him the authority. “But maybe if you had an agent on the inside…”

“And do I? Have an agent on the inside?”

Navid hums to consider. “You could.”

His inherent evasiveness prevents him from leaving the cover of their loaded metaphor. There is a line that he has learned not to cross when dancing around with Xelef. He refuses to be the sentimental fool that blindly steps too close.

—That’s what Navid tells himself at least, when Xelef is not within two breaths of him and watching him intently, like he’s pulling him apart and putting the pieces back together in his head. It’s much harder to resist testing him when he’s right there. 

But to his delight, Xelef huffs out a satisfied chuckle before breaking into a wide smile.

“Sounds like I have my way in then.”

Navid grants him an indulgent look. “Let’s see what you do with it, chief.” 

This time he lets out a full-fledged laugh and Navid joins him in it, reveling in how fun it is to be around Xelef. This is how he’d like for them to remember each other when they’re apart.

Xelef regards him for a beat when their amusement tapers off, likely having sensed the emotions that thought inspired as it passed through him. Navid quietly holds his breath. It’s not exactly comfortable, how easily Xelef can pierce through his walls, but if it’s out there then he’s not going to hide from it. 

“You know,” Xelef begins, looking away for a second before locking gazes again and resting a calloused palm on the back of his hand. “You can call me whenever you want. Even if you don’t have reason to.”

That… isn’t what Navid expected. There’s an almost tentative seriousness to the mercenary’s words and demeanor. The warmth that he’s learning to associate with Xelef radiates from their hands, powering the quickening beat of his heart.

Navid swallows, though he doesn’t look away. Xelef’s skin shines from his stare. “Even if I’m just thinking of you?”

“I don’t think there are enough birds for that in the whole Empire, my dark-haired beauty.”

And just like that, Xelef settles back into his easy demeanor, self-satisfied grin and all. But now Navid knows better, can discern the seed of… something behind the mysteries of Xelef’s eyes. Something that could be more than just a distraction.

[sorcererrezan]

“so you agree—i’m the love of your life.” 

—crown navid @ xelef, probably 

art by @PAPOGOCHI // character for @ataleofcrowns

[sorcererrezan]

unconvinced

congratulations on outdoing yourself yet AGAIN with chapter 7 @ataleofcrowns 💛 you are truly on another level queen 😌✨

prompt: “Then tell me, how can I convince you?” (list here) pairing: X/crown rating: spicy T 😏 word count: 1,929 summary: ‘It would be so easy to make him kneel for you, the way he clearly wants to—’ 

Crown Navid shows Xelef that two can play his game.

—

Liar. 

It’s what the earth spirits had said, but now, ensconced in his palace, where he has invited in those who are merely curious about him at best and possibly strategizing his murder at worst, Navid hears it in his own voice.

The control he has maintained since Ishrah and Siham opened his doors this morning squeezes around his chest. It pinches and he can feel his heart bursting out of the gaps of its hold, turning into spikes.

Navid’s eyes thin into slits of piercing gold. His tone, now devoid of its casual charm, is flat. Unamused. “I’m not convinced.”

Xelef, just as persistent, gauges him. Navid can pinpoint the exact moment the sellsword decides on his next tactic, green eyes shifting hues like a turning emerald.

“Then tell me, how can I convince you?” 

Just as much as Xelef is surely leaning on his sensory abilities, Navid’s awareness of the situation rises. Above his disrespected aggravation and Xelef’s agile contortions he can see the conflict between his own present and Xelef’s past. In the back of his mind he notes a sense of affronted duplicity—isn’t this the same man that warned him against self-destructive paralysis, the one that saw through his worries leading up to today and offered reassuring distraction?

Why can’t Xelef use that insight to understand the position he’s put a newly coronated Crown in, instead of to devise an escape from the consequences of his impulses?

Xelef steps close, as skilled at wielding a weapon as he is his own body. Navid’s thick brows furrow at himself, at the way his reaction betrays him, heart rabbiting in response to the enticingly deep fragrance clouding the mercenary, the ridges and valleys of his form set in such a tantalizing display. Navid can feel the heat from Xelef’s bare chest even through the rich fabric of his ceremonial robes and the magic imbued in them. Xelef’s hand on his shoulder is a reminder of his size and strength, of his willful potential to overpower.  

“Shall I beg you again, on my knees this time?” 

Every single thing about him is a distraction.

If Xelef wanted to keep up their easy flirtation from this morning, he shouldn’t have soured it by testing the limits of Navid’s control. But now that he has…

An open palm finds the heated skin of Xelef’s abdomen, gliding across hard muscles; callouses catching on the random, puckered skin of his scars. Navid can hear Xelef’s rushed inhale before it turns into a low chuckle. He lets his lips brush against the goosebumps on Xelef’s neck before he murmurs, breath hot on his ear, “Kneel, mercenary.”

The last word is a sharp hiss, accompanied by the bite of his blunt nails on Xelef’s bare skin. The muscles underneath his touch jump as Navid pulls him down, fingertips gliding up his torso along the way. Xelef would look almost reverent, on his knees before him like this, if it weren’t for the devious gleam of getting what he wanted in his eyes.

Navid’s lips twist into something wicked.

“Beg for my forgiveness,” he repeats, voice husky, one hand cradling Xelef’s jaw in a commanding grip. Navid feels powerful. Different from the ways before when he has bent Xelef to his will because this time, there’s no perceptive audience. 

Distraction or not, this is all for him.

Xelef bites his bottom lip and Navid eyes the plumpness of it, gaze sharpening in vindication as the man in front of him lets out a shaky, almost whining, exhale. 

“Please forgive me, Navid,” dark eyelashes flutter in a practiced way that Navid is nonetheless susceptible to. The use of his given name throws him off guard, widening his stare. Another distraction, or an attempt at sincerity? Only the Void knows for sure.

Navid nods, letting some of his cool charm return in an inviting smile. The hand on Xelef’s jaw slides to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through the smooth locks of his hair. “You look good like this, Xelef.”

“So do you,” he eyes Navid hungrily, not even hiding the lascivious way his stare roves from right below his waistline, up the slim taper of his waist, the flare of his shoulders, then lingers on his lips before making eye contact and meeting fire with fire. 

Navid’s smile shifts into a smirk and he tightens his hand into a domineering fist, pulling Xelef’s hair, holding him in precarious place as he leans over him. He makes a show of sliding his eyes from Xelef’s to his mouth as he bends closer then closer still, until the mercenary’s long lashes flutter closed in anticipation.

Their lips are separated only by their breath when Navid tugs—not gently—and Xelef lets out a choked half of a groan.

“Don’t ever deign to undermine me like that again. Especially not amongst these vultures,” Navid spits the last word out, voice testy and dangerous in a way Xelef has never heard before. He conceals his unspoken ‘I need you on my side.’ in another jarring pull of his hair, forcing Xelef to bare his throat to him. “Do you understand, Pale Sword?”

From his vantage point he can see Xelef’s desperate swallow, can hear the submission in his shaky exhale of a response. “Yes… my Crown.”

“Good.”

Navid breaks away like a glacier’s cliff dropping into the sea. For half a second Xelef crumples, not expecting the loss of support so immediately, before his muscles clench and he regains his balance. Spirits help him, but he is not immune to the way Xelef’s abdominals, framed by the rich textures of his formalwear, dance under his tanned, hairy skin.

Navid keeps a calculated, cunning look on his face as Xelef rises on his own, eyeing him in equal parts defeated respect and surprised annoyance. 

“I suppose I deserved that,” comes the begrudging admission. Finally, Xelef’s sincerity outweighs Navid’s doubts.

“Don’t mistake my reciprocation of your attention for naïveté,” Navid pins him with a knowing stare, a reminder that as much as Xelef can see through him, he can see the same. And to let him know that, even still, he wants to continue cultivating this “whatever you want it to be” that’s growing between them. Navid doesn’t know what Xelef’s romantic past looks like—and doesn’t much care—but if Xelef wants to keep courting his favor, he needs to know that there are harsh lines that Navid will not allow him to cross. 

“I’m sick of people hiding things I should know from me.”

The last part comes out more resentful than Navid intends, tinged with his turbulent reflections about his parents’ debilitating omissions and how exhausting it is to think of learning to divine the nobility’s nebulous motives and intentions.  

“You’ve known me for mere days, and you expect me to bare all my secrets to you because I helped you once?” Xelef snaps back, patience run ragged after Navid turned the tables on him. It stings. The fatigue of the day’s emotions slams into Navid all at once, his hurt the delayed catalyst. 

He takes a deep breath, recentering himself. Is his pride worth it? They’ve both made their point. And he doesn’t quite yet know where the line for Xelef is, when taking advantage of their attraction to each other morphs into something destructive. 

He sighs. So many calculations today, mind overstuffed by the endless observations he’s made to try to perceive everyone around him. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Navid shrugs, closing himself off from the weight of it all. He never asked for any of this responsibility, still doesn’t understand why the spirits chose him. Did they do it with the person he could’ve been before he spent a decade on the run in mind? Or with the decorated shell of a man he is now, desperately trying to fill his insides after those he trusted to protect and guide him failed? Maybe he really is naive, for dreaming that his problems could be solved simply by finding his sorcerer and finally becoming the Crown.

“You’re right, after all. We’ve only known each other a short time, and we’re not friends. I’m only your employer, right?” If Xelef wants to shield himself with that context, so be it. Navid is just as good at hiding.

“Navid…” Regret paints Xelef’s face an unfamiliar expression. 

“It is what it is. You have your secrets. I have mine.” 

“I didn’t mean—”

“Xelef,” he interrupts tiredly with an open palm. “It’s alright. I understand. Just don’t get me killed.”

Navid forces a smile to soften the jibe, retreating back into performance. Xelef opens his mouth as if to say something, brow bunched as he seems to sway between decisions.

“I’ll just see you—”

“The Mîrs of Rojan and I have a long, bloody history together. I don’t want to speak of Behram, but…” 

Xelef holds Navid’s gaze, still wavering for a beat before choosing his path. Something parts behind his eyes, something that allows both of them to see. How alike they are. How tired. How terrified and cautiously hopeful.

Xelef tells his story about Behram’s predecessor. Navid listens raptly, fully aware that this vulnerability could be fleeting, and hangs onto it. The part of him that doesn’t ache for Xelef as he unravels the tragedy of his childhood is grateful for the distraction from his own maelstrom of trauma and emotions.

“Then why did you help me?” Navid asks, feeling the gulf of his status between him and Xelef more distinctly than ever.

“I… had my own reasons,” he doesn’t meet Navid’s eyes when he answers. Though it’s not the reassurance that he wanted to hear—that he did it for more than just the potential of gold or vengeance—at least it’s the truth.

“In any case, does this sate your curiosity a little bit?” 

Navid recognizes the attempt at lightheartedness as a tool, though just like with his own attempt earlier, it’s outweighed by the ghosts that linger around them both. 

“Is this usually how you leave people sated after kneeling for them?” It’s not quite the same playfulness that’s usually between the two of them, not after what they’ve found out about each other today, but it proves that they can bounce back. Move forward, together.

“No, but today was a special occasion,” Xelef smiles, though it looks dim on his face. It flickers away, making room for the solemnity in his voice. “You should know—I told you that because I wanted to.”

“I do know.”

Navid reaches for Xelef, this time with no ulterior motive, but someone clears their throat before they touch. 

“Yes?” Navid tries not to let exasperation color his tone—the guards don’t deserve his ire. Still, he can’t help but be disappointed at the interruption, especially since this feels like some sort of breakthrough between him and Xelef.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Ah, right. The banquet and its accompanying expectations. Navid sighs, imagining the steam rising from the bath he plans on sinking into after all this. Alone.

“You go on ahead,” Xelef concedes. “I think I need some time to myself.”

“Will I see you later?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” relief flushes out Navid’s discordant emotions, and he holds on to the smile that Xelef sends his way to bolster him for the rest of the night. “You haven’t paid me yet, after all.”

“I’m good for it,” Navid hopes his returning smile, laden with the complications of things said and unsaid but sanguine nonetheless, does the same for Xelef. 

[sorcererrezan]

crown navid riahi and his royal boytoy 😌

thanks for letting me and navid love xelef, @ataleofcrowns 👑💛

art by @iigoart

[sorcererrezan]

golden hour

prompt fill for @ataleofcrowns. congratulations on the chapter 6 release cherry! 💛

prompt: facade pairing: navid/xelef  rating: T word count: 2,042 warning: spoilers for X’s scene during chapter 6!

—

Xelef is rather partial to the color gold.

Gold meant a full belly. Gold meant a job well done. Gold meant having survived yet another battle.

Gold motivated him and the people around him. Gold got him into trouble as easily as it got him out of it.

So when gold eyes looked defiantly into his, a spark of light brightening that nebulous place where his intuition resides, and dropped a heavy sack clinking with a familiar sound, there was no other option but to say yes.

Xelef’s not quite sure when he starts thinking of the flash of cleverness in Navid’s eyes more than the sparkle of coin. 

Just the night before, Heval forced him to examine this new tendency and why they haven’t yet moved on from Marabad. He’d resisted giving Heval the satisfaction of his admission at the time, but that was before his tendency powered his sprint to the tunnels and the burst of fire that kept Navid safe. 

If Xelef’s urgency directed his aim closer to the kill than he intended, it was only because he wanted to do a thorough job. Certainly not because for a split second, the jagged edges of fear pierced through the hard acceptance that has fused with the shell of his heart. 

That was before he discovered just how common of an enemy he and Navid have. Before gold also became something to defend instead of just throw at his leisure.

He didn’t divulge anything to the Blades besides the public warning that the Palace issued—which he still disagrees with, but spirits know there’s a reason it’s not him making those decisions. 

Xelef felt Heval’s questioning suspicion curb somewhat, as well as the Blades’ recommitment to Navid. It helped him regain some stability in himself. As long as he’s not the only one with a soft spot for the newfound Crown he can tell himself that the way Navid affects him isn’t unique. 

None of them had embraced Navid until his tears and the grip of his nightmare dissipated though. The intensity of Navid’s vulnerability had stunned him that night. Xelef thinks he might be able to relate to the way that his walls must have crumbled under their own weight during that moment, when the relief of a mission accomplished finally gave way to exhaustion. If he ever experiences it for himself, that is. 

Instead of being unsettled by the raw display of emotion he’d had to insist on leaving Navid behind, lest the way his eyes wavered like coins at the bottom of a fountain compelled him to do something neither of them were ready for. 

Despite the magnetic tension between them, he knows that they don’t trust each other. He’d considered Navid’s feelings only briefly when he conceived his plan before deciding to just deal with the consequences. 

Well, now here they are. He’d anticipated how Navid might feel once his shrewd mind pieced it all together, but Xelef hadn’t foreseen how much he’d care. 

It needles at him, the way Navid takes his motivations regarding coin at face value when they discuss the coronation. And it needles at him that it needles at him. That’s what he wants the Crown to believe anyway, right? 

The dissonance isn’t really something he wants to entertain so he distracts himself by distracting Navid. 

It’s rather more fun to catch the Crown staring at him than contemplate why there’s a kernel of him that anticipates an opportunity to be seen. Not just looked at as he so often is, up for strangers’ interpretation as he is now so used to, but seen. 

The gold in Navid’s eyes is alive in a way coin could never be. There’s a playfulness that seems to live in Navid’s irises, which Xelef’s learning is partly a diversion for the cunning survivalist underneath. 

Xelef stares right back, shameless in the way he parts the seam of his lips to drag his tongue across the bottom before letting Navid see how the plump softness of it gives under his thumb. He delights in darkening that sparkling mischief into something imaginative and promising and it’s not long before he gives the two of them a reason to leave the room together. The indulgently sly way that Navid looks at him insists that Xelef get him alone. 

Awareness thrums between them as they walk together, but he can sense a contemplative mix of emotions from the man next to him. It’s enough to make him curious. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh, nothing much, only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” Navid is just as practiced as he is at showing who he’s supposed to be. If Xelef couldn’t sense his anxiety he might’ve believed his blithe tone.

The stakes are high and Xelef can feel the weight of that reality on Navid’s shoulders as if it sits on him like a pauldron. It’d be a flattering and dashing pauldron the way Navid wears it, but a symbol of conflict and its inevitable consequences nonetheless. 

Xelef meets the slight bite of Navid’s sarcasm with his pragmatism, forged in fire and quenched to harden like steel. “If you obsess over the weight of your choices, you’ll become paralyzed by fear, and in that state you’re of no use to anyone.”

Navid eyes are sharp as he seems to consider not just his words but also his intent. Whatever he decides to himself seems to satisfy him because some of the spark in his eyes returns. Xelef wonders what conclusion Navid came to, to look at him like he knows something Xelef doesn’t. 

He thinks he sees some relief in there too, and Xelef tells himself it relieves him in turn because he needs the Crown to be clear-headed and not because of the possibility that sharing his genuine perspective might have made him rise in Navid’s esteem.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Xelef steers them back into familiar waters with a self-satisfied twist of his lips. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Navid lets out a huff of a chuckle. He must be more exhausted than he let on because they slide into silence again. Xelef’s attempt at distracting Navid is successful though and soon enough he’s unable to contain his amusement. Xelef puffs up at the suggestion of his altruism, sliding back into the easy role of carefree rogue. 

“Altruistic? Pah! Disgusting.”

But Navid promptly tugs at his facade. “You can drop the act, you know. I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”

“Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” A devious rhythm softens the quick reflexes of his defenses even as his heart starts to race. Being exposed is terrifyingly thrilling. Or thrillingly terrifying. Both? 

“You do like to perform. The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.”

Navid pins him with piercing gold and Xelef hardly realizes as he’s backed against a window. It’s been a long time since anyone cared to find out who he really is as much as Navid ostensibly does. 

Navid steps close enough that he has to tilt his chin down to hold his gaze and even he can’t deny that the proximity makes him feel like a live wire, like his pulse itself might jump out of his skin so it can press against the man who’s always so tantalizingly near.

Xelef considers that he might have met his match in Navid with a smirk.

Navid already has a decently apt approximation of him, despite Xelef’s penchant for misdirection and the fact that they’ve only really known each other a handful of days. Xelef’s moved quickly in the past but never quite like this. 

But then again, nothing gets him into trouble as easily as gold.

“Navid.” 

Xelef reaches a hand out, soothing a knuckle against the slightly puckered scar on Navid’s cheek. He’ll have to ask him the story behind it soon.

“If you wish for me to treat you tenderly, you need only ask.”

It comes out as a gentler murmur than he intends. Xelef doesn’t need to speak up to be heard after all, with how much closer Navid gets as he anchors a rough hand on top of his. It’s as close to an acknowledgement of Xelef’s complex and often contradictory thoughts and emotions about the man in front of him—the ones he prefers to leave unaddressed because they leave him feeling uncomfortably bare.

“Don’t tempt me, Xelef,” Navid’s voice is rough with restraint as his thick brows furrow with caution. “I’ll start believing you.”

“I lie about a lot of things, my dark-haired beauty, but never about this.”

“That’s a lie,” Navid purses his lips, eyes narrowing even as he considers his own assertion. It’s a look that Xelef has seen on him before, usually around a table with others, as Navid weighs the reality of what he knows against the possibilities of what he doesn’t to figure out how to move forward.

Just like earlier, Xelef feels the foreign compulsion for Navid to have confidence in him. It’s been a while since he cared to prove himself to anyone, and even now his better sense is reminding him that the distance he places between himself and others is there out of necessity. If he weren’t deep in the shit of it he’d find it amusingly fitting that they can both see glimpses past each other’s bravado. Of course the person that interests him most is also the one that directly challenges him to leave the familiarity of his facade.

“Perhaps.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny it, though it’s getting harder and harder to ignore his hope that Navid will just figure it out and acknowledge it for both of their sakes. Whether his evasiveness is a test of Navid’s understanding of him or his own hesitation to be understood, he can’t determine. 

Neither can Navid it seems, because he redirects them to less murky waters. “And what is this, exactly?”

Xelef doesn’t answer immediately, taking his time to admire the sharp lines of Navid’s handsome face to reinforce his memory of it for later, after they part for the night.

“Right now? I would call this a flirtation,” this part is easy to admit. Flirtation comes naturally to both of them. He’s noticed the easy compliments Navid gives to others, how he effortlessly keeps those he thinks he might have use for close. His motives seem genuine enough—Xelef himself knows what the line between manipulation and exploitation looks like—though his charisma certainly has a craftily calculating edge to it. 

“But we can make it anything you want it to be.”

Xelef leaves the rest up to Navid’s astute interpretation. An acute sense of anticipation holds him in place as Navid opens his mouth to respond and Xelef internally wills him to see—

—Magic displaces above Navid’s head, and the breath Xelef had been holding spills out as a laugh. Whatever Navid was about to say is swept up in him trying to recover from the spirits giving him away. 

Ah well. At least he’ll have something to tease Navid about later.

Xelef doesn’t question how easy it is to insist that he keep his dagger with him. What would it mean if he and Navid use the same blade the first time they have to kill? Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything at all, but it reassures him that even if he’s away he can still be there for Navid when it happens, when the world inexorably reminds him of why he’ll always have to protect himself.

Is that altruism? When he tries to correct his own buried regrets by helping someone else avoid having the same ones?

Even more questions he’s not sure he wants to find the answers to. 

But when he feels Navid’s resolve solidify inside him, sees the squaring of his shoulders as he lifts his gaze from the designs on his door and takes a steadying breath before stepping inside, Xelef knows he’ll have to accept that it might not end up being up to him anyway.

Gold just might be the death of him.

fin.

author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do a character study in X’s perspective for a while and there were so many LAYERS to their scene in chapter 6 that i took a one word prompt and wrote two thousand words about it lmao. i wanted to explore the duality between X’s persona and their actions and set a starting point for them early in the romance. 

there’s a really delicious tension right now when they’re not acknowledging their deeper interest in the crown despite the fact that they’re always eye fucking whenever they can so much as see each other. i also wanted to play with the fact that they both know that there’s more than meets the eye and ALSO that they’re being manipulated in the grander scheme of their own personal agendas. 

i also wanted to mold navid’s characterization from the perspective of someone trying to resist falling in love with him. spoiler alert X, it’s impossible. anyways! so many thoughts, head full of X. hope i did my favorite royal boy toy justice 🤎

[sorcererrezan]

— used this gorg picrew to make my crowns! ☀️

👑 fairuza khalaji | she/her | LI: rêzan 👑 navid riahi | he/him | LI: xelef

tagging anyone who wants to do it; we always love to see atoc content! 💛

[sorcererrezan]

hii! can you answer 16, 19 and 25 for both your crowns? 💕

16. How affectionate is your oc? How do they convey their affection? By being touchy, or through more subtle ways?

fai, despite being a stone wall, can be unexpectedly affectionate. mostly because rêzan is just so open with his affection that she can’t help but reciprocate in equal amounts, but in her own way. in public her affection looks like secret smiles, fleeting handholding, a gentler tone of voice than what she uses around others. it would be hard to tell they’re together if you’re not in the inner circle. her love language is quality time so she’s firm about not letting anything interrupt their alone time together. someone better be invading the palace if they want to bother her and rêzan after business hours 

navid: navid is touchy by virtue of being with xelef. once they’re not denying they adore comfortable with each other it shows in how seamless their physical affection is. besides the rampant flirting they just... fit. navid tucked into xelef’s side with an arm around his waist; xelef casually resting an elbow on navid’s shoulder as he carries a conversation with someone else; lounging on a sofa with navid’s legs on xelef’s lap. navid’s love language is words of affirmation, so besides the physical affection he also frequently reminds xelef how much he cherishes him—under several layers of teasing, of course

19. What is your oc’s creative skillset? Music, drawing, writing, dancing, etc.? Or are they lacking creativity entirely?

fai: fai is great at drawing and taught herself how to draw maps as a survival skill. once she’s the crown and has access to supplies she starts painting, mostly landscapes that she’s seen over her years of being on the run that she wants to capture. like the arsurian bob ross

navid: navid is a natural dancer. he’s very rhythmic and his body just moves in ways he’s not even really conscious of when he listens to music. it’s one of the things that he’s always done very genuinely with no compulsion for concealment. it’s truly how he expresses himself

25. How stubborn is your oc? Are they open to considering different options or opinions, or are they more closed off?

fai: fai is not really stubborn as much as she is distrustful. so she’d be very closed off to someone’s opinion unless she really trusts them. her opinions/decisions are adaptable given new information from select sources. if you want to change fai’s mind about something your best bet is getting rêzan on your side. but if he isn’t already then good luck with that lmfao

navid: this is a hilarious ask bc one of navid’s traits is literally “immovable” LMAO. so there’s that. he’d tell you he’s decisive but at the extreme he’s super stubborn. he’s very much a “i’m just going to make an Informed Decision and deal with whatever consequences happen as a result” type of ruler. once he’s made up his mind there’s no dissuading him so you better get your pitch in beforehand if you want to influence him

[sorcererrezan]

For the 100 ocs asks meme, what about 55 for Navid and 100 for Fai?

55. How sensitive to loud sound is your oc? Do they prefer constant high background noise, low background noise, or complete silence?

navid does everything he can to avoid complete silence (and consequently, his thoughts). before reaching marabad he preferred to fall asleep by moving bodies of water or where he could hear birds and crickets. [spoilers] the magic in the tunnels that fucked with his hearing really freaked him out. he’s a light sleeper so he’s only sensitive to loud sounds when sleeping. otherwise, the man has nerves of steel so he wouldn’t be shaken by loud noises.

100. Does your character ever swear? How often? How vulgar is their swearing?

fai doesn’t swear too often but when she does it’s emphatic and creative. like, “damn you. your insipid mind simply cannot fucking fathom the consequences of your own rampant ego.” as in all things, even her swearing is eloquent. she probably also swears when she stubs her toe or hears bad news.

[sorcererrezan]

offering a soft X reunion fic for those of us going through these trying times ♥️ congrats on yet another stunning chapter @ataleofcrowns​!

hello omg that r/crown prompt was so soft and well-written i just... if it's not too much trouble, would you consider writing one for x/crown but with the prompt, "you can call me whenever you want... even if you don't have a reason to." 👀

thank you for such an inspiring prompt, anon! i literally created my X romancing crown just so i could read the route and fill this prompt. 🥰

i hope y’all enjoy crown navid, who is my love letter to @ataleofcrowns’ X 🥺💌

ps. i have an atoc sideblog now! askbox is open for r/crown and x/crown prompts over at @sorcererrezan 💛

—

Navid finds out about Xelef’s return to the city via a messenger from the Crescent Blades. Apparently the Pale Sword himself saw it fit to give advance notice, though whether it is because he is the Crown or because he is Navid is still elusively up for interpretation.

Typical Xelef. 

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