#others writings for royal au

[aychama]

L: I told you to leave me alone

R: I know Sir, but I'm your advisor and I (unfortunately) have to supervise you too.

Raymond sighed as he read the papers in his hands while following Leshy.

L: Do you think I need your supervision? I was doing just fine before you arrived. I'll continue to do so. Leave

R: I can't. We still need to go over a lot of things, we're far behind schedule to discuss real matters which is urgent, I need you to sign the agreement of imported goods from Anchor Deep and the people in the neglected villages are revo-

L: Fine! How many!?

R: Pardon?

L: How many papers, Raymond?

Leshy turned to him with a momentarily anger. To him, Raymond was simply, yapping.

R: Uh, about... 1, 2, 3...

He began counting, sounds of the paper coming to Leshy's ear.

R: 86 papers, sir.

L: Well good luck to you with that. Just copy my signature.

R: Wait, me? Sir I can't just decide on the matters of the whole kingdom!

L: Aren't you my "advisor"? That's your thing, to decide.

R: Yes, I give advice! I don't rule over a kingdom!

L: Too bad so damn sad, I don't feel like listening you talk about dumb problems I won't be paying attention to anyway.

Leshy chuckled a bit and walked towards his work room. Raymond followed right behind, a bit panicked by the king's nonchalant decision. Leshy closed the door behind him, Raymond nearly making it inside.

R: You can't just ignore it! I promise it won't take long... Don't you care about your people? They are suffering! They are doing their best but barely surviving with what you let them have! Not only that, you've added taxes when I was gone!

L: My people are doing fine. You're worrying too much for something so lame, Ray. If I'm really that shitty of a king, go on. Fill my "so important" papers. And I thought you were smart enough to think that.

Raymond rubbed his temples after setting the papers aside. He took a deep breath. Leshy just sat one of the comfortable chairs and leaned back.

R: (God, I prefer hell over trying to convince this man child to do anything) It won't be long before everything breaks down to chaos if you continue to neglect your duties, sir.

L: ...

R: Maybe the other crowns were right about you after all...

Leshy immediately got up and turned towards Raymond.

L: What did those old bastards say about me?

R: Just the usual sir.

He smiled. Good thing Leshy was, well, blind.

R: That you were too young and naive to understand how a kingdom works. The red crown even said he was surprised that you haven't got hunted by your people.

L: That... Grim faced cat! You know what!? I rule my kingdom just fine! I'm the best king out there! They wish they were me! I can rule their kingdoms along with mine if I wanted!

R: Yes sir. You could...

L: Read me the damn papers Raymond! I'm gonna finish these papers faster than any of those living corpses!

R: (Works every time)

___________________________

It was night time when they were able to finish all those papers. Raymond had lit a candle long time ago to read better and Leshy seemed to listen.

R: This is the last paper... It's, it's over

L: Finally, for fuck's sake...

The worm yawned and leaned back. Raymond put the papers in order and set aside, before leaning back like his King.

R: Sir your profanity.

L: Ray I'm too tired to care.

R: You're right... I should be too tired to ask.

L: What's the time?

R: The moon is up by a hand. It's too late.

L: You don't say.

The advisor yawned and drank a glass of water. The King on the other hand rubbed where his eyes should be. It was rare but, sometimes, his eyes would bleed again, his wounds so easy to tear open. The cat panicked at the sight, immediately his tiredness vanishing by worry that overtook.

R: You're bleeding!

L: Don't-

Leshy hissed at him when Raymond tried to touch his face so he backed away. Raymond looked at the blood with sadness for his King.

R: Does it... Does it still hurt? Does it hurt bad?

He asked with a shakey voice as he reached for Leshy's face again. Surprisingly, the short tempered king didn't pull back the second time. He leaned to the touch, to the feeling. Raymond's palm got bloodied as he wiped it.

L:Not anymore. Not like the way it used to...

R: It's good... I think. Is it just pitch black..?

L: People assume so. But no. My vision is my thoughts. I can see just, not in the way you'd expect

R: How so? How can you just- See?

The King chuckled at the advisor's weirded out question.

L: I already know what something looks like. I know colors, I know shapes, I know sounds, the materials, the feelings. And, if you know it like I do, it feels like your whole imagination is your sight.

R: That's... Not as bad as I thought

L: You think about going blind?

R: No, heh, of course not... I think about, how hard it must be for you.

L: You think about me? Now that just makes me shy~

R: My King-

Raymond gave a tired and short giggle as he blushed. Even though he hated his job, he didn't hate the worm necessarily.

L: What? Can I not be curious about why you think about me Ray?

R: With all due respect, that's not the point, sir. I work for you, it's natural that I worry for the one I'm working so close with.

L: And somehow I'm someone you must worry for? The levels you bring me down to.

R: You make it sound like everything is just fine! Is there really nothing bad about being blind?

L: There are bad sides of it of course

R: Like what?

Leshy smiled, putting his hands on top of Raymond's.

L: Knowing I'll never actually see you

AU8WUW8UQOAPAAJUDJDAAAAAAAASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

HELLO???? THIS IS SO GOOD?!?!?!?!?! How dare you send me this awsome gift as an anon 😭😭😭 Thank you so much omg I didnt think such a simple drawing would inspire someone to write something like this!

THANK YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[emry-stars-art]

i am FERAL for the royal au and i am curious, what is neil and andrew's first kiss like in this au? all the art you drew is giving me thinky thoughts

[The thinky thoughts art in question] and THANK YOU for this ask!! (sorry about making u feral pls take care 🙏)

I don’t even remember how the scene idea came to me but I do remember thinking that royal au andreil first kiss would in fact be pretty different than canon only because Andrew, knowing Abram’s had bad experiences with touch beyond violence (I believe unlike canon), would somehow be even more careful about how he approached it (coming from the one “I want to see you lose control” is directed at. Impressive)

And also we’re in the middle of these two’s fun game of “is he trying to court me or am I making inappropriate assumptions” so that’s super cool and fun TT

Anyway read it here and have a little taster (but first go look at @astridsbirdskulls drawing of their kiss bc it’s SO sweet omg)

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

[bigalockwood]

Sunday Snippet 👻

Simon was rooted to the spot, tendrils of ghost plasm reaching for him.  “I never felt safe.” The words, a whisper from the past, left in the world of the living, kept repeating themselves, steadily rising in volume. He was starting to feel sick, nausea crawling up the back of his throat. Furiously, he chewed on his chewing gum, but couldn’t find the strength to move.   “I NEVER FELT SAFE!”  The roar startled Simon out of his trance but by then, it was too late, the ghost already looming over him.  Stumbling back, Simon tried to put some distance between them, but the ghost descended upon him, its ghastly face close, close, closer to Simon, sunken eyes and fleshless fingers, rotten teeth and fraying lips — A rapier sliced through the air in front of Simon, drawing invisible but familiar patterns.  Gasping, Simon stayed where he was, heart beating wildly in his chest.  “Simon! You okay?”  Wille’s concerned face appeared in his field of vision, his hair annoyingly good-looking, even now, at just past midnight, after they’d been searching the dusty house for hours. He was always so…dapper. Stupid old money.  He hardly seemed ruffled by what had transpired and as soon as Simon nodded jerkily, the megawatt smile was back on Wille’s face, all worry gone. He appeared to be greatly entertained by all of this. Simon thought back to how Wille seemed to enjoy throwing himself in the path of danger, how little regard he had for his own safety. What did it say about Simon that he didn’t mind having an employer and colleague that seemed to be borderline suicidal? “Great,” Wille said, holding out his hand to haul Simon to his feet. It was warm around Simon’s chilled fingers. They had the same callouses from fighting, he noticed idly. “We’ve got so much more to do tonight. Now that we know who we’re dealing with — it’s time to hunt a ghost.”

[aychama]

Oop- Lambert got caught by a simp!

Start here

Previous here

Next (currently working on it) Part 4

Royal AU belongs to @aychama

✨Disclaimer✨

This is not my au, I never claim this to be my au

Please treat nothing in this story as cannon

Later that morning, Ari watched the training grounds. He knew Aym was irritated that a servant got the better of him. The knights were suffering for it, as Aym was more rough with training. Ari simply watched from the window as he always did, but he couldn't help but find it cute that he was so upset that a servant could best him. Smirking as he would tease him about it...if he wasn't afraid of having his ass thrown in the prison. Before he heard someone walking in his direction and quickly went back to work, not wanting to get caught staring.

Aym dismissed the knights for the time being. He hated it, but Ari was on his mind. He wanted to know more...no, Ari is a servant, most of them don't get good starts in life. There's nothing special about him, he had more important things to focus on. 

Ari very much stayed out of the gossip circles, he knows the basics of what's going on. But he finds them a waste of time and disrespectful to the king...plus he never had a good feeling about the new knight who's always at his side. Sal warned Ari that the knight was bad news, but couldn't say more, so Ari kept an eye on them.

He could care less who the king loves, he's bearly seen him as Ari's tasks and work usually means the two rarely cross paths. Ari can count on his hand how many times they've spoken. He's a hybrid, so he's given the hard labor and dirty work, meant to be kept out of sight by the head servant's orders.

Not that Ari minds, he's used to being alone and has always been the outcast. He noticed Aym and Baal speaking to each other, choosing to pick his battles and turns back around. Heading back in the direction of the King and the knight at his side, knowing he could be screwed either way. But there's no way he's going to be able to resist teasing Aym and though Ari doesn't fear death, he still chooses life.

Later that afternoon, Ari notices some movement in the halls, which is not unusual. But he has a bad feeling about it and follows the movement, deciding his task could wait for a moment, keeping a grip on the dagger he carries with him. Before noticing that knight going into the archives. Ari follows, leaning against the door frame as he watches silently, his tail swaying before finally speaking up. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 

Lambert jumped and looked over at Ari in surprise. Thinking quickly before he spoke. "The king sent me here." they respond. Ari smirked, it was kinda funny how easily they were startled. He looked for any unusual behavior from the lamb. But any he notices could also be passed up for the fact he just scared the hell out of the knight. 

"What are you doing here anyways?" The lamb asks. Ari shrugs "I was heading to another task and noticed you snooping around." he teases. The lamb glared at Ari. "Shouldn’t you also not be in here?" they ask, in a cocky tone. Ari scoffed "I’m in the doorway, not the archives. What are you looking for anyways?" He didn't want to help them but he also had nothing better to do.

The lamb now had to think fast, what the hell would they be sent to get? Ari smirked "You don't remember? Or are you just somewhere you shouldn't be" he teases. They nod. “...I did forget” the knight responds. Ari smirks, “Good luck explaining that.” He teases before turning around to leave the area. He needed to entertain himself somehow, and who better to mess with than one of the knights. He’s watched the lamb on the training grounds a few times, though he’d much rather watch Aym. His face getting red as his mind wanders off, before noticing the lamb catching up with him, wasn’t like they were hard to notice with that bell around their neck. “Is there something you need?” Ari asks politely, he was still a servant after all. The knight looked at Ari. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, what’s your name?” They ask, walking at Ari’s side. The knight was slightly taller than Ari, making him have to look up. Ari didn’t have much to lose, plus a name could be changed anyways. “My name is Ari,” he says calmly, tail swaying. The lamb smiles. “My name is Lambert” they respond. Ari smirked, he was never going to use their name correctly, but oh well. “Where are you heading to anyways” Lambert asks. Ari shrugs “I was sent to do a few tasks the other staff hates. It’s usually messy or hard labor but I don’t mind, I just do what they need me to. It passes the time and means I don’t need to really care to much on what I look like. But I need to go back to my tasks and I know the King is likely waiting for you to come back with whatever it was you were looking for.” Ari speaks before walking in a different direction, leaving Lambert alone.

[toffeelemon]

sapphic wilmon fics as sapphic songs🩷🧡🤍

this is a (play)list of some of my favourite genderbent au wilmon fics as sapphic songs to celebrate the wilmon tag on ao3 hitting 5k works!

I won't treat you like you're oh so typical by saynomore @saynomorefic [T, 9k, 1/2]

non-royal AU. rare butch wille/femme simon! delicious sexuality realisation friends to lovers

I'd be home with you by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 6k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe fluffy established relationship valentine's date.

Comes on the common tongue of your loving me by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 1k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. simon being a teasing lil shit

Santa Claus won't make me happy (but you will) by MarvellKya17 @i-love-semicolons [E, 3k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. christmas themed, semi-public sex with toys

The altar is my hips by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight @aro-of-artemis [E, 1k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. new year's eve themed and excellent lesbian sacrilege as usual

Bubblegum by stealthy_chameleon @stealthy-chameleon [E, 2k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon cute mutual pining to smut speed run

the taste of lace and you by willesworld @willesworld [E, 3k, 1/1]

princess wille x she/they simon in universe pwp. wille in lingerie.

Look at me when you're alone by Gwendolyn @shouldntbearevolution [E, 3k, 1/1]

dom she/they simon giving wille a lap dance... yeah

Something Bittersweet by embracedthevoid @embracedthevoid [E, 9k, 2/2]

a series of 2 fics. non-royal AU. enemies to lovers. hate sex. still pretending to be enemies hehe. public sex.

good friends by phnelt @phneltwrites [E,4k, 1/1]

established wilmon and (straight friend) felice threesome. trust me sksk.

[baphomimi]

aaand C and R for AU alphabet? w whichever characters you want

(for this wheee)

OK FIRST COFFEE SHOP AU QUICK:

goofy ass. trent would probably be like an actor who was in a big fandom show / movie when he was a teen (eli & lena can be his co-stars yayyy)!! Chris is the coffee shop worker & is a big in the fandom but because he is the biggest idiot alive, doesn't realise the customer he has a huge crush on who comes in every day is THAT trent (how dude im sick of you)

trent meanwhile like 'hes only being nice to me bc hes a fan'. cue 200k words of infuriating slowburn romcom.

OK AS FOR ROYALTY AU....I HUMBLY PRESENT... (blood & general misery to follow)

“Hunting again, mi’lord?” 

The title goes down bitter as poison, makes Trent’s skin crawl. He was 14 when his family’s kingdom was sieged into ruin and Queen Lena, too repulsed of men to create an heir of her own, claimed Trent instead– just another spoil of war. He was never built for the life of a royal– brooding and waifish and just utterly uncharismatic– and both the courts and commoners alike still refuse to accept him as their Prince. They will bow and curtsey and address him with the respect of his title, of course, but there is always a discreet snideness there. My Lord. Your Highness. No doubt they’ll have his head the second it touches the crown.

The stableboy is different, though– he doesn’t use Trent’s title with malice. If anything, his is a sin far graver; the moment the boy spots him in the courtyard or the stables, he is on Trent like a fly to a horse, chattering away to him as though they are commoners both. Forgetting himself. 

He has been scolded for it countless times. In one of his more sour moods, Trent even had the guards beat him for it– there on his knees in the straw of the stables– but when it was over the boy had just looked up at Trent, blood seeping from his nose and between the cracks of his teeth, and smiled. The punishment had made him no less persistent either, if anything he has grown more eager since then, as though daring Trent to call the guard on him once more. 

Trent has no patience for such games this morning, though. Just wants to be with the forest, and kill something that can’t fight back. 

“Well of course,” Trent grumbles, coming over to pet Ebony– a black Friesian mare that was bought for him as a courting gift on his 18th birthday. He grew fond of the horse, not so much the girl. “Why else would I find myself in this stinking hole of a place?”

“I thought perhaps you wanted to see me, mi’lord,” the stableboy says, helping to dress Ebony for the ride. When he grins, a prominent front tooth is missing– beaten out of him during the guards’ attack. A strange thing had happened the morning after; the maids had found that same tooth nestled under Trent’s pillows, like he’d been sleeping on it all night. There were whisperings of witchcraft and sorcery for weeks, but nothing else seemed to come of it, and the people quickly forgot. Not Trent, though.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Trent says, not looking at him.

The stableboy is a huge, ungainly thing– though he might have a handsome face if it weren’t so scruffy. One of his arms alone could very well match the width of Trent’s waist, and he keeps a messy crop of blond hair, short at the back. 

He chuckles, and says, “It’s dangerous out in the woods this time of year, mi’lord. Poachers, and the like. My Prince would do well to bring a travel companion for these outings of his, someone to keep him safe–”

Trent laughs bitterly at that. “What, you?”

The stableboy flushes, offers him a little bow. “If it would please, mi’lord…”

The sheer audacity of it has Trent clenching his jaw.

“You have a name, stable boy?” Trent asks, as he watches the other man buckle the saddle. The stableboy leans up, blinks at him.

“It’s Christopher, Your Highness.” Another polite little bow. “It means, Christ-bearer.”

“Then, Chris,” Trent slides his boot into a stirrup, pulls himself onto his horse. “You would do well to remember your place, and leave me to my business.”

He sets Ebony cantering from the stable, kicking up straw and dirt behind him. When Trent glances over his shoulder, Chris is watching him go. 

Trent washes the blood off of his hands downriver from camp. Three rabbits and a couple of deer is good enough work for a day’s hunt– though entirely wasteful– he’ll be lucky if Ebony can even haul one of the deer back to town on her own. But whatever he can’t take, the wolves will gladly finish for him, and besides– the game of this forest is his to waste as he pleases. 

He’s scraping the red from the beds of his fingernails when he hears a rustling from the opposite bank. When he glances up, the bushes are shifting in the wake of their disturbance, but he can’t see anything there. Trent has his kills piled up at camp, still bleeding lazily into the dirt. Perhaps the smell of it has lured in some carnivorous beast– Heavens forbid a pack of them��� too impatient to wait for Trent to leave.

Nervous suddenly, Trent stands, wiping his hands off on the black velvet of his tunic. It’s getting late anyway, the sun creeping away behind the trees to the west, and he won’t hear the end of it if he doesn’t show his face at tonight’s feast. 

He turns, and immediately collides with the broad chest of some leather-clad stranger. The force almost has him toppling backwards into the river, but they squeeze their fist into the fabric of his clothes, keeping him in place.

“Easy there, little princeling,” they leer down at him, ugly and rough-spoken, “Wouldn’t want you ruining this pretty dress of yours.”

Terror immediately spikes through Trent’s body and without even thinking, he tears himself from the stranger’s grip and bolts towards camp. He makes it only a few feet before another man steps out from behind a tree– Trent runs straight into their fist where it catches him in the gut.

The air is pummeled from his lungs, hot pain shooting through his abdomen. He splutters, staggering and eventually toppling backwards into the grass, momentarily stunned and clutching at his stomach. By the time he comes around, three men are standing over him, spread out so as to prevent his escape. They’re all dressed differently– a mismatch of different fabrics and armours, as though each piece had been salvaged from a different place. Or a different corpse.

“The Queen’s kept you right well and coddled, ain’t she?” The original stranger strolls over, and the others part for him. “When we heard you make a habit of coming to these woods alone, we thought, even a Prince can’t be so stupid.”

The man squats down to meet Trent’s eye. His face is dirty and creased, with cold, hard eyes that show not even the slightest hint of compassion. “But here you are– ripe for the pickin’.”

“You so much as touch me and–”

Trent is interrupted, smacked hard across the face. It stings terribly, and when he looks, the bandit is adjusting a steel ring, spinning it around his finger. 

“You best keep yer mouth shut, little princeling,” the bandit growls, though there is a tinge of amusement there, “Queenie would be right mad at us, if she got you back with yer face cut to ribbons.”

With trembling fingers, Trent touches the stinging spot over his cheekbone. His fingertips come back stained with blood.

“That is,” the bandit goes on, “If she gets you back at all. We’re still figurin’ that part out.”

Quick as a dart, Trent grabs the hunting knife from his boot, lashes out seemingly at random. Part of him knows he’s outmatched, but he refuses to surrender so easily. His blade sinks deep into the calf of one of the other bandits and they cry out, leaping back. But then their leader catches Trent’s wrist, pulling it up and back, over his head.

The night he was taken, 15 years ago, he caught an arrow in each of his shoulders. While the wounds healed without infection it ruined his joints irreparably, to the point that he can barely raise his hands above his head without pain. The movement being forced out of him now is sheer agony, tendons snapping. He screams, but the other man’s grip remains firm. 

“Drop the knife then, brat,” he says. 

Trent does so without hesitation, letting the blade fall soundlessly into the grass. Anything to get the pain to stop.

When he’s finally released he’s already crying, cradling his shoulder and rocking himself in an attempt to wish away the fire spreading down his arm. The others are tending to the wounded one, who is screaming insults, but the leader remains exactly where he is. 

“Bloody pathetic. Don’t got a shred of fight in ya, huh?” 

Trent feels a hand go into his hair. He shudders involuntarily at the glide of fingertips over his scalp, and the sensation pulls another sob from his throat. 

“Well,” the bandit goes on, “Maybe this whole thing’ll help make a man outta ya.”

With that, he is dragged backwards by his hair back to camp.

To ensure that he won’t get away, the bandits bind Trent’s wrists in front of him, and then again at the ankles. They leave him there in the dirt, laid uncomfortably on his side, and proceed to rifle through Ebony’s saddlebags for valuables. She whinnies nervously and even kicks out at one of them, but they only laugh and jeer, undeterred. 

Once the sun is set, they start a fire, and cook the rabbits Trent had hunted that morning. They sit in a semi-circle, tearing the meat apart with their bare hands, chattering vaguely about what best to do with their captive Prince. It appears they intend to ransom him off, or at least sell him on to someone bold enough to do the job. Lena cares for him, but he can already hear the courtesans whispering in her ear: the crown’s riches are wasted on that one. We can always find another, one better suited to the responsibilities of a royal.

Trent refuses to accept that this isn’t all just some nightmare, the way the flames make the bandits’ shadows flicker like dancing imps. 

Eventually the wounded one gets up, hobbles over to him with a half-eaten rabbit leg clutched in his fist. He dangles it over Trent’s head, strings of meat dangling from the bone. 

“Bet yer gettin’ hungry by now, ey?” He says, teasing him. 

“I hope you lose your damn leg,” Trent spits back, tilting up his chin, trying to reclaim some sense of dignity.

He is treated to a sharp kick to the jaw, the tip of the bandit’s boot making his teeth knock together painfully. 

“Snotty little bastard,” the bandit grumbles, taking another bite and then slowly limping off into the surrounding forest.

It takes about ten minutes for the others to notice he’s gone. They call out his name, laughing.

“Useless old prick,” the leader sighs, shaking his head. “Went and got himself lost, no doubt. You–” he shoves the bandit next to him with an arm, “Go find ‘im.”

With some murmured complaints, the other man eases to his feet and slopes off in the same direction. When he also doesn’t find his way back, the air suddenly grows grave and serious.

“Could it be wolves?” The remaining underling suggests, getting up and glancing around nervously. There’s no sign of commotion out there, just the chirping of nightlife and the quiet crackle of the fire. 

“Nah, we would’ve heard ‘em,” the leader replies, hand resting warily on the hilt of his sword. “Perhaps a bear–”

As though on cue, the bushes part for the approach of some great, hulking beast. No, not a beast– Trent’s blood runs cold, when he realises what he’s seeing.

It’s Chris– looking just the same as he did this morning, still all smiles as he drags the body of one of the bandits behind him. He leaves the corpse at the outskirts of camp, throat torn and bloody. Trent doesn’t understand how, the stable boy doesn’t even have a weapon, but then the blood on his hands is picked up by the firelight.

“You.” The leader sneers, drawing his sword. The way he says it, it’s like they know each other. 

“Me?” Chris replies, pointing to himself as he draws closer.

The leader doesn’t like the approach, swings his weapon down sharp towards one of Chris’s shoulders. But the stableboy merely catches it in his palm; doesn’t flinch, when the steel bites into his skin.

“You’re– you’re mad!” The leader says, half-laughing, as he struggles to get his blade moving again. So focused is he on the effort that he doesn’t notice when Chris grabs the side of his head and smashes it into the exposed side of the blade.

The bandit screams out in pain, drops his sword in favour of clutching at his face. Trent only gets a glance of the wound before he does– a straight red line from forehead to jaw, his eye ruined. With the leader incapacitated, Chris comes for the final bandit, who is holding a trembling dagger up to him, clearly terrified.

Once Chris is closer, their size difference becomes more apparent. Something in the bandit must break then, because he’s turning to run, but Chris just grabs his head and twists. There’s a sickening snap, and the man’s body drops limp to the dirt.

Chris returns to the leader then, who is there on his knees, groaning and lamenting the state of his face. He is dragged roughly over to where Trent is lying, and dropped beside him.

“I’m ever so sorry, mi’lord,” Chris says, helping Trent to sit up by propping him against a tree. “They didn’t hurt you too terribly, did they?”

Trent waits for relief to seep into his bones, but it never seems to come. No man should be capable of the acts he’s just witnessed.

“Why– why are you here? How did they know you?”

Chris smiles apologetically. Squatting down besides him, he runs a gentle hand over Trent’s hair. “Well, my Prince wouldn’t believe me, would he? I had to show him…”

Trent closes his eyes, hands starting to tremble again. “Show me what…”

“That he needs me. That–” 

Trent flinches when he feels the warm press of Chris’s mouth, there at the wound on his cheek. He fights the quiet sense of comfort it brings, but it still seeps deep into his bones, unbidden.

“That I care for him.” Chris finishes.

“Untie me then,” Trent replies, meeting his gaze. Pleading with his eyes. 

The stableboy chuckles gently at that, cups Trent’s face with his wounded hand, painting his skin black-red. “And let mi’lord get himself into trouble again? I wouldn’t dare.”

Resigned, Trent throws his head forward, dark hair curtaining his face. He watches on helplessly as Chris stands, wanders over to the bandit leader and stomps into his face, until there’s nothing left of it.

[hergrandplan]

AU where Simon and Wille both have a book coming out (not sure if they're both authors or that one of them has a biography and the other a novel) and are accidentally double booked at a bookstore for signing. One of them has an incredibly large following, the other significantly less so and things are awkward until they realize they reall hit it off. Like, really.

[aychama]

G: YOU MOTHER FUCKER

The goat punched the other again. They were already bloody and bruised from fighting. Lambert backed, coughing up the blood.

G: What the FUCK were you thinking!? They gave you a purpose, a new start at life, you ungrateful piece of SHIT!

L: I know! And I also know that it would all end when they no longer needed us or found someone stupider to their work!

G: Bullshit. They promised-

L: PROMISED? Pfft ha-! Hahahaha!

Lambert laughed. They were laughing at the stupidity of the situation. Other one gritted their teeth, clenching their blood stained fists.

L: And you believed that? What did they promise you huh?

G: None of your business! Shamura proposed stuff they never did to other people! Once I get your head to him for what you did to them, to me, I'll have everything I want!

Goat tried to punch him again. This time, his wrist was caught by Lambert painfully, twisted and forced to get on the ground.

G: Gah-!

L: What did they promise you? Your safety? No longer having to worry about being hunted down? Or is the promise of giving you the crown once their times up? Come on... We're better than this!

The lamb said harshly. They knew every one of those lies. They weren't dumb.

L: You think someone as knowledgeable as Shamura doesn't know how to manipulate people like you? People like us? They are good at taking from the vulnerable, giving empty hopes with eye catching promises.

G: Fuck you.

Lambert let go of his wrist and took a few steps back. Goat looked at them curious and judgmentally

G: I don't believe you. You yourself are a manipulator. How the hell did you convince the red crown to lend you power?

L: I didn't... He gave it to me himself. But I'm not trying to convince you anyway. You don't have to believe me, follow me, help me... But to think I'd let you come in here and kill me is just ridiculous.

G: So what now? Do you expect me to just stop coming after you after what you did? People know me as someone that never let their prey ran off, can't risk that reputation.

L: No, I'm expecting anything from you. (It's a waste of time anyway) All I need is for you to think about this, make a choice and understand. Shamura is not someone you can trust.

G: I don't need to understand. Nor do I care if you can or not trust Shamura. In this world, people like you and me either do as told or become dinner. And, you're the main dinner they crave. Don't be stupid, Lambert.

L: (That's quite poetic actually) If Shamura wants to kill me, they can come and try for themselves, no need to get YOU involved. Tho, you said it yourself that you're doing this to be not on their bad side. If you're tired of being a vessel for their needs, this isn't the way to freedom... You will, NEVER get that by simply doing what they want.

G: Freedom? Ha! It's rich coming from you. Like you did any better! You betrayed Shamura for what? To be that damned cat's lap dog, to sit when says and stand when he wants. (Or maybe things I don't want to mentally imagine) You, put all your self respect, dignity and name aside to get toyed around by someone like him. Is this what you call "freedom"?

Goat walked towards them, making Lambert take a few steps back.

G: That's not freedom. Or maybe you want that. Maybe you make him think that he's in control to betray him later on. He was being nice after all. You love hurting the ones that help you the most, right?

L: Now you're just saying random words What? Is this some kind of way to make me feel bad? If there's a lap dog here, it's you. You don't get to act like you didn't do what ANYONE asked of you just to feel like you accomplished something worth mentioning! You can continue to obey Shamura and beg them to keep you afterwards but be aware that they'll put you back where they found you! I'm gonna do what I need to do to live my way, either with you or without you! So don't- ACK!

The goat launched at them, their hands around the other's throat. Goat didn't like those words, at all. The lamb choked, scratching the hands on their throat. Goat was angry, shaking as they watched the other struggle.

G: You think you can just backstab everyone who trusts you and don't face the consequences of it!? Like how you thought I'd forgive you, after you left me in that prison!? They caught you and I did everything to help you! And I waited, waited and waited for MONTHS! IS THAT YOUR FREEDOM!? You... Selfish... Ignorant... BASTARD!

Their heartbeat filled their ears, anger consuming the goat. The blood dripping from their nose hit Lambert's wool, joining the other's own stains.

G: You left me to die. And you dare to criticize what I do to survive!? If it wasn't for me, you'd be devoured whole in a feast! We did everything together! We helped each other out! But you!? It's only you! I trusted you!

Lambert stopped his struggle, instead looking up to their... friend. Maybe one of the worst things they've done. The only thing they regretted so far.

G: What did I ever do to you!?

The goat punched them again and again. But when they got no response, they let go

G: Answer me. Don't you have a snarky come back to that? Can't even deny that you are the worst fucking friend?

L: ...

They sat up, their lip busted and nose broken. The tension and the eye contact was too uncomfortable.

L: You're right. I did that. I am, a bad friend.

G: ...

L: You're not just here because of Shamura are you? You don't care about what they want or what they told you at all.

G: Yeah. I'm here because you're a piece of shit, a backstabbing manipulator and you owe me. Did you even tried to-

L: I did... I tried to help you out.

Upcoming tears already burned his eyes. Lambert took a deep breath.

L: Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I-I know it's no excuse but, but I tried... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I know, I know it means so little to you and I know you don't want to hear me say it. With all this shit going on... When Shamura started to go out their way and what happened between me and the king... The things I felt and couldn't even understand at the Festival... What I had to do to prove myself, my worth and all the thoughts about not being good enough... for anyone. These aren't excuses. They shouldn't be... I was supposed to be there for you. But please believe me when I say this, I never wanted to hurt you. And if I loose you now, or already did, I would never forgive myself for making you feel like I didn't care...

Lambert was crying when he finished talking. They couldn't face the goat anymore. Years of friendship and they ruined it. The goat took a step forward. And another. Lambert assumed they'd left but...

G: (You crybaby)

The goat hugged them. So they hugged back. It was quiet for a moment... The the goat backed away.

G: If I knew you were this much of a loser... But hey. Neither of us are made in heaven. We're both shitty. And I rather be shitty with you.

L: You...

G: I'm still angry and fuck you, you know.

They smiled at Lambert, then sighed.

G: But who else do we have other than each other? So stop crying! (It makes you look uglier than you already are.) I'll forgive you for a while, aight? Cuz I know you'd miss me

L: Fuck you... Heh...

G: Same to you. So-!

The goat pulled the lamb to their feet

G: When are we killing this giant spider?

Awwww this is adorable!

Thank you for writing this it actually shows me how much I have or haven't shared about my story so far and gosh its a lot djkfllf

And gosh Lambert just taking the punches from Goat, ouch

I love the back and forth the two have here and Goat being promised stuff from Shamura is a nice touch!

Goat calling Lambert a crybaby is so cute xD and I adore the hug ❤️

[aychama]

Oooh I love that he is hiding his hybrid parts to blend in! And the high pain tolarance is interesting!

Their dynamic is pretty cute, I bet Aym has not been knocked around this much for some time and is feeling irritated by it xD

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3

Au belongs to @aychama

✨Disclaimer✨

This is not my au and not canon. I cannot write fighting scenes for the life of me so forgive me for that (It's short anyway)

Aym was in a state of shock, before getting up himself. "You're not helping your case"Ari smirked "If you think I have ill intent I have the exact opposite in mind." He responds, tail swaying. "You're just easy to predict when it comes to training. You underestimated me, if I wanted to kill you, I could've." Ari speaks in an eerily calm voice before continuing. "I wish to protect the king, not harm him, no one expects a servant to know how to weld a weapon or even fight above a basic level. I didn't pursue to be a knight or even a guard...not like I would be given a chance to anyways." Ari has a hint of sadness in his tone.

Aym looked confused at Ari's words. "What do you mean you'd never get a chance?" He asks. "You're clearly capable to some extent." Aym was almost ashamed to admit Ari was one of the few to catch him by surprise.

Ari chuckled softly, parting his fur to show small horns growing in, though the chips and cracks showed that his horns had been cut and filed repeatedly. "I'm a hybrid, it wouldn't look well on the king if I was put in any powerful position. I'm lucky to even be a servant. I hide it for a good reason, but it's no secret among the other staff." Ari looked calm, but there were small hints that the fact that he would never truly fight and defend in a non-secretive way was upsetting him to a degree. Ari's ears twitched, his stance more defensive, he wasn't looking Aym in the eye all while watching him simultaneously for any sudden movements.

"So you're giving up because you're a hybrid? You settled? Why not at least try if you truly wanted it? You are clearly very capable, you learned how I fight by simply watching me...it's almost a waste" Aym states almost defensively. It's unbelievable how someone would just, settle, and give up, over something so small that could be hidden so easily.

Ari looked at the sword in his hand, before gripping it tightly. He had a dark look in his eyes, glaring at Aym. Ari wanted to shout at him, how he was abandoned by his family, and his grandmother was disowned and cut off for raising him. How she used what little power she had to get a job as a servant. How Ari had to work himself nearly to death when she got sick, only to watch her die in the end...he was only 12.

He wanted to scream...but he didn't, taking a deep breath before speaking. "I'm sorry...just...hybrids aren't usually given an easy life even if the hybrid part is not obvious at first look." For the first time, there was a shake to Ari's voice despite his calm tone, he was upset, enraged.

Aym could tell there was more to the story but knew better than to push any further. "Now actually show me what you're capable of before anyone wakes up." Changing the subject, though Aym wanted to know more...he'd have to look into it later.

Ari smiled, before swinging his sword, he was going easy on Aym, not showing his full strength to see just how much Aym was able to take. Aym blocked it with his sword easily, smirking. "You told me not to hold back, now it's your turn" Aym nearly orders.

Ari was trying to ignore the fact his face was getting a bit red before shrugging. "You asked for it." He responds before swinging at Aym hard and fast. Aym nearly had time to dodge it before Ari swung again, Aym blocked the attack with his sword. "Dam he's fast." Aym thought to himself, he could barely get a hit in, the style was almost familiar. But Ari was proven to be unpredictable, his form changing. It was confusing and unfamiliar. Until Aym noticed an opening and swung, hitting Ari in the side hard enough to leave a deep bruise. Yet Ari didn't even flinch, taking advantage of Aym's shock to strike him in the shin, with a sharp hit to Aym’s back as he fell, knocking him onto the ground hard enough to have the wind knocked out of him. Aym gasped for air as he looked at Ari who was standing victorious over him.

"Ready for round two, or is your ego as bruised as your leg will be~" Ari teased as he the dull blade aside, and helped Aym sit up. He knew...well hoped Aym could take it to an extent, otherwise, he could've gone easier on him. Chucking to himself as he saw Aym’s look of annoyance at his small teasing. It was almost cute…almost,  Aym was still looking at Ari in surprise and annoyance as he caught his breath.

"You didn't even flinch, I hit you...you didn't react, Most would've been on the ground after a hit like that." Aym spoke in a shocked tone as he caught his breath. Ari smirked, his tail swaying proudly.

“I have a very high pain tolerance, it’s been with me since I was born. So honestly I felt the impact but no pain, it’s just kinda more of a small discomfort” Ari responds confidently. Aym just looked at Ari in pure shock. “You mean you can barely feel pain? Like at all?” He asks.

Ari nods smiling. “I can’t feel temperature, thirst, exhaustion, or hunger unless it’s severe, so I have to remind myself to do…anything to live. But yes, not feeling pain unless it’s extreme is a plus. No one knows why I am the way I am. But it’s a curse as much as it is a blessing, if I forget to eat or drink for a long time I won’t remember until I’m dying from thirst and hunger.” His tone was serious, as he knew his weaknesses as much as his strengths.

Aym was looking at Ari like he wasn’t…alive…was he alive???? Who the fuck can’t feel what…any human should be able to feel? He needed to think before responding. How do you even respond? But…Ari would be unstoppable on the field with something like that. He didn’t even need training, and he didn’t look half bad…Aym snapped out of his thoughts, flustered.

“Just…stay out of trouble, as I won’t do you a favor next time.” Aym responds before picking up both swords and walking off. Trying to hide the fact his shin hurt. Ari nods before looking at Aym.

“...Thank you, I haven’t spared in a good while…I forgot how much I missed it” Ari spoke before giving a small bow of respect and walking off to start his daily tasks before Aym would respond. Getting just out of sight before falling into a flustered mess. Ari could barely focus with Aym so close…but Ari snapped himself out of his thoughts. What was he thinking, a hybrid servant and a military leader? Ari knew even with his Noble past, it meant nothing, he wasn’t going to jeopardize Aym and his entire family for a crush…yeah just a crush is all it is. This’ll pass with time, he had work to focus on anyway.

[cricketnationrise]

some sentence sunday 24.5

thanks to @kiwiana-writes, @cha-melodius, @indestructibleheart, @firenati0n, @three-drink-amy

@14carrotghoul, @thesleepyskipper, and @myheartalivewrites for tagging me today! i finished my @aroyallybigbangrwrb draft today so please enjoy some junora feelings realization feat a surprising amount of john denver

Nora’s just sitting next to June, basking in the atmosphere, innocent to the seismic shift about to occur, when several things happen at once: the moon comes out from behind a cloud, a light breeze sweeps through, and June starts humming along to the song she’s playing. Any one of these things alone would be fine, but together they are completely devastating. Nora didn’t recognize the song before, but with June’s low, melodic humming, she can identify Annie’s Song—one of Mama’s favorites to play for Mom. The lyrics swirl around Nora’s brain—you fill up my senses, like a night in the forest—providing an inadvertent soundtrack to her suddenly racing heart. The breeze is just strong enough to make the wisps of June’s hair dance and play in its wake, just strong enough that June giggles—let me drown in your laughter—and scrunches her nose up all cutely when they tickle, and tucks the escaped strands behind her ear. The newly-returned moonlight edges June in delicate silver and Nora’s breath catches in her chest.  Oh shit.

tags under the cut!

@leaves-of-laurelin @happiness-of-the-pursuit @anchoredarchangel @orchidscript @celeritas2997

@rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @dumbpeachjuice @smc-27 @missanniewhimsy

@the-lincyclopedia @montrealmadison @thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl @clottedcreamfudge @everwitch-magiks

@cactusdragon517 @inexplicablymine @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @wordsofhoneydew

plus the customary open tag 💜🦗

[somebluemelodies]

in honor of my one year ✨blogiversary✨ if you will, as well as, consequently, one year of my beloved lil royals au, here's a little (read: accidentally a smidge long) something something with our favorite prince and guard :> feel free to read the rest of the royals au here <3

Roier doesn't understand the idea of traditions.

Well, he does, to an extent, but the fact of the matter is that he, truthfully, doesn't care about traditions.

He doesn't care for anything about the life of royalty, really, and would much rather run away with his beloved to live in a cozy cabin outside of the kingdom, getting eloped to an audience of no one but themselves and whoever's ordained to marry them, but alas, he can't get everything he wants.

No, he'll just break the rules set tradition instead.

Tradition says Roier isn't supposed to see Cellbit the night before their wedding, and his parents stationed two guards outside his room to make sure he doesn't leave.

Roier laughs at the fact they forget he always escapes through his window, anyway, and the fact they thought he could be left devoid of quality time with his beloved.

Besides, tradition says he's supposed to marry another member of the actual royal class, and, well, he let that concept go months ago.

(Apparently, guards don't count. Apparently, Cellbit especially doesn't count. Oh, well.)

(If his parents could marry who they loved, so can he.)

He knows where he's going. They set a meeting spot hours ago. Their spot. He'll miss being able to do this so much when he's king - when they're kings - but at least he won't have to go sneaking out to spend time with his husband.

(Husband. Husband.)

(His heart races at the prospect, warmth igniting his veins. Husband.)

So, this is what it feels like to be lucky.

...

Cellbit has heard the townspeople talk.

He's overheard it from the townspeople, hell, he's even overheard it from some of the guards themselves.

He's not supposed to be on the throne. He's supposed to be beside it. Guards aren't supposed to become proper royalty, let alone a king. That isn't tradition. Guards aren't supposed to marry their princes. That isn't tradition.

The personal guard has heard the words tradition and unusual and improper so many times that they're starting to not sound like real words anymore.

And it makes him worry a little, admittedly.

(Not for himself. Never for himself.)

(It's Roier he's worried about.)

Cellbit knows he got lucky becoming a guard in this kingdom, let alone Roier's personal guard. It certainly wasn't his unknown background that got him these positions, it was purely dependent on skill.

(If they knew who he truly was, he'd have been marched to the guillotine months ago. He wouldn't be here.)

Cellbit knows traditions. And he's fairly certain he doesn't fit a single one of them. By marrying Roier, marrying into a family that's always been so keen at upholding traditions, he knows the prince's image is at stake.

(Roier might not care about it, but Cellbit does.)

(He might not be a guard for much longer, but he always will be at heart. He swore to protect the prince with his life, and he will fulfill that to his last breath.)

He wonders if Roier made the right decision, abandoning his arranged marriage and choosing him, instead. Emotionally-speaking, certainly, but logistically...

Tradition getting thrown to the wayside typically doesn't bode well. The embodiment of everything tradition isn't taking its place? Well...

Cellbit holds onto the fact that Roier chose him anyway, throwing care to the wind and rekindling the dying embers because he loves just that intensely, and trusts that everything will be okay.

They will be okay.

(Even if the townspeople don't like him after this marriage, it doesn't matter. Roier likes him. Roier loves him, enough to drop it all in a heartbeat just for him. Just so they can be together. How?)

(He has the whole world right beside him; he doesn't need anything else. How can someone love so much?)

The storm of thoughts assailing his mind are brought to a grinding halt by a hand grasping his arm. Startled, he turns, but the surprise melts into a fluttery excitement when the moonlight illuminates his prince's presence, and he can't control the way his heart starts to hammer against his chest.

(Beautiful. Ethereal.)

(He wonders how he used to be so stoic around Roier, used to go to sleep without seeing soft brown eyes and a saccharine smile and--)

You're staring, gatinho.

Roier's laugh draws heat up the back of his neck, and he fumbles for a response that won't make him look stupid. Is staring at beautiful art suddenly a crime, guapito?

The prince shakes his head fondly, reorientating himself so he can cradle Cellbit's face in both of his hands. Ya, mi amor. Come here.

He pulls his face closer, pressing their lips together, and he feels gloved hands on his waist close any remaining space between their bodies by pulling him flush against the guard's chest.

(It's almost disorientating, feeling like they could burst. Feeling like the flames could burn them from the inside out.)

(It's addictive. It's love. How could they have come so close to giving this up?)

They only pull apart when oxygen demands it, and even then, Roier chases him for another brief kiss before taking a real moment to breathe.

Their foreheads press together, breathing in each other, the serenity that comes with their nights under the moon. And then, the prince is smiling again, a knowing curve of his lips. Mañana, eh?

It's Cellbit's turn to smile, holding him a little tighter at the words. Amanhã, meu príncipe.

(Everything changes tomorrow.)

(Tradition is useless, anyway.)

[emry-stars-art]

Hi, i just want to stop by to tell you how much I love your art and even more your Royal au

I hope this is in no way an offence but I found this post https://www.tumblr.com/gatorparade/721685064988131328 and immediately thought of you and His Highness Prince Andrew.

I wondered if on a walk Andrew stopped to freshen up and Abram, in keeping watch, found himself observing him from afar and what thoughts he might have, not so much at the Prince’s splendid figure but how much he manages to convey a calmness to him that he never had, a kind of serenity that radiates, that he can read in Andrew’s eyes when they finally meet.

Feel free to ignore this if it doesn't inspire you, I love everything you post regardless, you cannot know how much your blog brightens my days ✨

Okay im FINALLY HERE

I wish I could have done this more justice but this is what I got, I love the idea of Nathaniel/Abram first seeing the little bits of humanity and vulnerability (only the barest bits but it’s much more than the Moriyamas ever gave) from Prince Andrew and like. It jumpstarts the idea that Palmetto is really and truly different than Evermore or something TT

anyway the linked post [here] is first off gorgeous (it’s an oc if I remember, pls go give the artist some love if you can we appreciate ocs in this house) and second I LOVED THE VISION. Im sliding a little writing snippet under the cut so thank you for the ask :DD

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

The prince said he just wanted to acclimate Nathaniel. His short, matter-of-fact way of speaking was still unfamiliar - he sounded as if he was being transparent, but Nathaniel knew better than to take royalty at their word.

It wasn’t as if he had the choice to refuse.

He accompanied the prince on his ride of the outer courtyard. There wasn’t much for Nathaniel to do; unfortunate, because he couldn’t distract himself with real work. The prince was bringing him deep into the untamed grounds, through thick trees and bushes. Secluded and private. Still, Nathaniel said nothing.

After countless minutes of what should have been easy silence, they reached a creek. The prince guided his horse to a stop and considered something, lost in thought until Nathaniel had dismounted and approached. It took more effort than normal to remove his glove.

Nathaniel’s hand moving into his space seemed to jog the prince. He blinked, took a heavier breath, and held a little too tightly as he always did to slide from the saddle.

Despite Nathaniel’s every anxiety, he brushed right by without a word. Nathaniel watched dumbly as the prince shook his hair free of its tie, combing it out and kneeling at the creek bed. He splashed his face with water and ran some over his scalp to combat the midday heat.

He didn’t seem to be watching his back. He wasn’t hesitant or afraid for Nathaniel to see him in a state like this. Easy, casual. Even now Nathaniel was playing the possibilities in his head. All the ways the prince could be harmed in that moment. How easy it was for Nathaniel to see it and know the royal family wasn’t as infallible and godlike as they claimed.

But, then - the Minyards had never claimed godhood. Though the water made the prince’s hair sparkle.

Prince Andrew didn’t think himself as far above Nathaniel as Nathaniel had assumed.

The prince straightened then, turning a look on Nathaniel as he retied his hair.

“You seem rather heat stressed,” he said flatly. “Are you certain you don’t need some water?”

Nathaniel was certainly stressed. Just maybe not from the heat. He hesitated before gesturing aimlessly with the reins he held, one horse in each hand. He’d gotten too distracted to tie them anywhere.

The prince met him at his own horse’s head, taking both reins without a word.

“Go,” he said. Nathaniel forced his mouth closed when he found he couldn’t speak, and the prince gave him another unimpressed look. “That’s an order, Nathaniel.”

So Nathaniel let go and stepped back, still hesitant to let the prince hold his horse when it should only have ever been the other way around. But the prince had already turned his attention to GS, stroking the white blaze of his nose with as blank an expression as ever. Nathaniel wondered briefly if the prince’s face ever changed as he went to obey.

(Also thank you for your other kind asks AM, I cherish them and you 🥰)

[rubber-glovs]

Oooohhh the urge to yap about my ocs and the world they live in......

[happyk44]

"I'm not leaving you behind! It is my duty," he hissed. "I swore myself-"

"Your swore yourself because you had no choice, Percy." Her eyes were endless dark, devoid of feeling, of life. "You had a price to pay for your mother's life and this was your only offer." Her thin fingers cup his face through the bars. "You didn't choose to be my protector." She gave a weak laugh that made his stomach plummet to the floor. "You're not even my guard yet, not really."

Like a phantom, her touch slid down his cheek. He caught her wrist before her fingertip stopped gracing his skin. He could feel the rounded edge of her fingernail poke against him. Silence held fraught between them.

"Bianca-"

"Percy," she cut in, voice so sharp it cut him to the core. "I want you to survive. You're free. Take advantage of that, and go. Now."

"I can't go back without you," he said, quickly. She didn't fight his hold, but still his grip tightened. As though the harder he held her, the more she would stop protesting her escape. "You are-"

"Dead." Her lips thinned. "I'm dead, Percy. I was dead the moment they got their hands on me and I will be dead before either one of us even makes it beyond these walls, but you-" Her voice cracked, eyes watering.

He shook his head. Blood pounded in his ears. He didn't want to hear what she was going to say, wanted her to stop, wanted it all to stop. Just for a moment.

But it didn't, and neither did she. With a deep breath, she carried on, "You can make it. You can live. But only if you leave without me, so go."

His lungs burned. She inhaled so deeply, spoke so forcefully, and it made him hold the air in his chest until he couldn't take it anymore. If he didn't breathe, maybe she would. But his chest ached. Self-loathing wedged itself like a rock in his throat as he let go. The sound of his own breath was like nail on chalkboard.

"Percy," she whispered. He shook his head and leaned in closer. Although tears hadn't yet fallen, her eyes were still wet. They glistened like the night sky. Her forehead pressed against the bars.

He looked away. The brick wall to his left was growing a fair bit of moss in the corner. "What's our star again?"

She laughed. It was a watery thing that choked him where he stood. Memories of standing the long grass, moonlight shining off the river, while she read her books beside him. Every so often, she'd look up at the night sky and search for the brightest star that month. She'd tell the stories behind the constellations. Or at least the stories from her kingdom. Any time she told a story, a fantastical myth, she'd follow up that her brother knew more - Nico, the quiet prince with a voracious appetite for legends and monsters.

Then, if she could spot the brightest star that month and if she recalled, she'd tell him what it meant for the people born that month. At least, in their hemisphere anyway. The stars were different elsewhere. Sometimes she'd crack open the newspaper, the stark image of her father, and read aloud the horoscopes.

He still remembered the incredulous sound she made when he told her they shared the same birthday. She'd dragged him to the library to refresh her memory on their star. Then argued furiously that he did not share the same traits as her.

It was a silly thing. She didn't believe it. He didn't either. But it was the first time they hadn't played the stiff act of royal princess and her knight-in-training. Not Percy holding his tongue and following strictly one step behind. Not Bianca doing her best to pretend he wasn't her shadow.

Awkward civility and stiffness carried thick between them from the moment Percy had been casted into his role. But that night, with the sound of yelling and laughter still echoing in their ears, they made an agreement. They didn't have to be the best of friends, but they sure could be casual with each other. After all, they were going to be stuck with each other for the rest of their lives.

At least... they were supposed to be.

Slowly each finger detached one by one until all that was left was his palm pressed against her wrist. Then that fell away too. Still he couldn't bare to turn his head and face her.

"Leo," she said. "The lion. Strength, pride, loyalty, confidence."

A stabbed orange toy on new year's day passed through his mind. "Sacrifice."

It was quiet for a beat. Then, "Yes." His heart hammered so fast he could feel it in his throat. "The lion represents sacrifice."

What was he supposed to say? He wanted to run, to turn the lock with the key he stole, take her and run. Run far and fast. But deep inside, he knew she was right. He could get by undetected. No one cared about a child knight, not even yet passed his training. He could blend in and slip out. Even if he got caught, they wouldn't nearly put in as much effort to get him back as they would if she were with him.

She was right.

She was already dead.

He swallowed thickly and met her eyes again. The night sky glistened back at him and he thought of constellations and warm handshakes and kind agreements and silly arguments. Breath caught in his throat. "I'll miss you," he whispered, voice hoarse.

Her lips twitched. "I'll miss you too." She blinked, and one tear slid down her cheek. He tracked the wet trace it left behind until it welled up at the bottom of her chin and dripped to the floor. "Will you do me a favour?"

"You're my princess," he said. "I would do anything for you."

It was a weak smile she gave before she spoke. The sight of it crushed him. "Tell my family I love them." Her breath escaped from her shakily. She pushed back her hair. A classic move to hide the nerves that drove her hands to tremble ever so slightly. "And take care of Nico. Please."

"I will," he promised.

Her smile strengthened ever so slightly. But the tears fell fast now, one right after the other. Her face tilted away at the first streak. He immediately turned his line of sight back to the brick wall. Weakness, sadness, grief - she hated being seen with any of them. He always respected it. Look away until she was done. Don't speak, don't ask her anything, don't help her. Just look away and stay silent unless she calls out.

So, even as his mind's eye was trapped in the wet track of tears on her skin, the hitched sound of her breath holding in a cry, he turned and headed back for the dungeon's door. The doorknob twisted in his hand. The door cracked open.

"Percy."

He held stiff. "Yes?"

"Don't forget the bracelet."

Heat burned at the back of his head. In his pocket, the bracelet felt heavier than the weight of the world. When he had first arrived, she gave it to him. When he refused to take it, insistent that she could deliver it to Nico herself, she shoved it into his pocket herself. Like a ghostly stain, his thigh still tingled with the forceful and firm press of her hand. He was sure it always would.

"I won't."

"Stay safe," she said, a princess in a dungeon ready and waiting to die.

His heart shattered. Still, he kept his head held high. "I will."

Then, without another word, he left the girl he had spent the last three years training to protect. He was meant to die for her. It was the role he had accepted the night he and his friends had stormed the castle and pleaded for help with his dying mother. He didn't argue. He didn't plead. Without hesitation, he swore his life away for hers. Without hesitation, he swore his last breath would be hers.

Yet she was the one embracing the eternal coldness to come. She was the one breathing weakly so he could breathe strong. She was trading away her life for his. She was the lion, giving a mighty roar before the dawn of a new year. She was the sacrifice, held down by chains with a glistening sharp blade raised above her head.

But he wasn't the one lowering it upon her neck. No, he was the cold breath of winter. The first drop of snow. The wilting grass. He was the barren wasteland that drove her out into the open. He was the starving masses desperate to live. He didn't have to drop the blade. He didn't have to use his own hands to spill her blood across the ground. His survival was her end. And that made him her killer anyway.

[wackpedion]

STOOPPPP 😭😭ouh.. that one enemies to allies to friends to lovers (to exes) furroughs fic that only lives in my mind....... i need adhd meds bro

[onthewaytosomewhere]

3RD FIC FOR FIRSTPRINCE WEEK !!!

so it's day 4 but my 3rd submission to @thebrownstone firstprince week

“I can’t do this again,” Alex says, looking at Henry; he’s so tired of this hot and cold whiplash that seems to happen every time they’ve been together lately. He has wanted nothing but to be with Henry since he first met him all those months ago at freshmen orientation. But how Henry gets close and runs when Alex thinks they’re getting somewhere makes his heart ache in a way that has become too much.

… the boys work a few things out and I break my own heart as I write it … *shrugs*