#stale royal ivy

[tezukamaiko]

[isekaiscreencaps]

[ianime0]

Lastame | Ep8 | He can even manipulate the ages of others... how extraordinary.

[animemakeblog]

“Higeki no Genkyou to Naru Saikyou Gedou Last Boss Joou wa Tami no Tame ni Tsukushimasu.” The First Promo

A key visual (shown above), and the first promotional video for the television anime series Higeki no Genkyou to Naru Saikyou Gedou Last Boss Joou wa Tami no Tame ni Tsukushimasu (The Most Heretical Last Boss Queen: From Villainess to Saviour) were made public. On July 20, 2023, Tokyo MX, MBS, BS11, and other channels are expected to broadcast the anime's debut.

[guess-i-ll-die-then-blr]

Trigger Warning: mentions of human trafficking

Just watched the first episode of The Most Heretical Last Boss Queen and —

Was what happened to Stale human trafficking?

[rachalixie]

what i’m looking for

you, quite literally, run into kim seungmin on your escape from an arranged marriage.

tags: strangers to lovers, hidden identity, she/her!reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 3.4k

you never thought you would be in a situation like this, running through the woods in poorly fitting clothes and shoes, branches snagging at your hair and arms as you wind your way through the forest searching for something, anything. and yet, here you are. cursed engagement ring hidden away in your satchel along with a pocket of gold coins and whatever stale pieces of food your handmaid was able to steal for you before you took your leave.

you’re surprised it took you until a week before your wedding to run away, but you were never one to back down from a challenge; you tried everything you could think of to call it off, but your parents wouldn’t budge. something about it being the best decision for the kingdom, or whatever - nevermind what you want. nevermind that your brother would become king and therefore you were simply a bargaining chip to be used for political power. nevermind the reputation of your betrothed, the reputation of his kingdom and how they treat women like you. nevermind that they’re sending you into a life of despair and discomfort. 

the cool dusk breeze beating against your face feels almost euphoric as you sprint, cautiously looking behind you to make sure you’re not being followed. surely someone had noticed your departure? but you made sure to cover your tracks well; the boots you’re wearing are several sizes too big, stuffed with cloth to ease the fit, and any tracker would dismiss them on their hunt for you. 

you’re abruptly sent down to the forest floor when a boy appears almost out of nowhere, tripping you and making you lose your footing. he tumbles down with you, taking the brunt of your fall, and annoyance pings within you when he groans at the impact. you’re scrambling off his lap as fast as you can, hands scrabbling at dried leaves on the ground that stick to your palms. 

“where did you come from?” you demand, watching him stand up with an indignant look on his face. his pouty lips are twisted into a frown and his hair is fluffed up from his fall. in any other situation you might think he was cute. “do you not watch where you’re going?”

“oh sorry, i’m not really used to people running through my property,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and a reprimand that you have to tamp down sits at the tip of your tongue. for all he knows, you’re a commoner; announcing that he should be aware of your royal status and that technically, you own this property probably isn’t the best move. he would turn you in faster than you can speak your own name, collecting whatever reward your father most likely posted in return for your safe delivery back to the palace. 

“your property?” you land on, feeling it a safe question. you look past his head and notice a tiny cottage a few yards away, ivy lining the bricks and a soft puff of smoke escaping from the chimney. 

“yes,” he drawls out, as if talking to a child. “the place where i reside. you know, sleep and eat. surely you know what that is?”

“of course i do,” you huff, crossing your arms. did you look homeless to him, or something? a terrible idea sparks in the back of your mind as he looks away from you and you notice the rapidly setting sun. it hits you that you had no plan, nowhere to go, nothing to eat and no shelter for the night.

“anyways. enjoy the rest of your. jog?” he says, voice lilting up at the end like he’s not sure whether or not to be suspicious of you. he turns to walk away and a flash of panic takes over your body.

“wait!” you lunge to grip at his sleeve, a display of impropriety that you usually wouldn’t let yourself indulge in with anyone other than your closest advisors. the material feels rough under your skin, as do the borrowed clothes hanging off of your shoulders. “do you have an extra room? or a mat on the floor? i can pay you, i just need somewhere to stay.”

“what, are you on the run or something?” a spark lights in his eyes, and your hair stands on end when you realize that he’s amused. as if he knows anything about you.

“or something,” you grit out, knowing that whatever sarcastic comment that you want to make probably won’t end up with him agreeing to let you in. despite his inarguably annoying personality, he has a house, and you need him right now. you can’t imagine that you’ll run into anyone else tonight, and sleeping on the forest floor does not seem safe. 

“how much?” he says, quirking an eyebrow up. you mentally cringe at the amount of money you have hidden away in your bag, 

“enough,” you squint your eyes at him, gauging him. he meets your gaze for an impressive amount of time before nodding his head towards the small building and starting his trek. 

“what’s your name?” you ask, following behind him, knowing but not caring that not offering yours first was rude. he looks back at you for a beat of time before shrugging. 

“kim seungmin. and you?”

you give him your name, grateful to your parents for the first time in a while. they kept your true name hidden from anyone outside of the palace, and their secrecy was annoying until this very moment. it would be nice to be called something other than princess for a while, you’re sure. 

he mouths your name, letting it sit on his tongue for a moment before grinning. 

“well then, welcome to my home. i’ll make up a cot for you in the living room, are you hungry?” he rambles as he lets you in, closing and locking the door behind you. the skeptic sarcastic you met outside seems to melt away to reveal slumped shoulders and tired eyes, unmasked by the comfort of his space. it warms you up along with the shelter of a roof, a reprieve from the biting cold of the outside. 

he doesn’t wait for your answer before walking off, leaving you to stand between the small kitchen and cozy looking living room. there’s small trinkets strewn around, soft mismatched couches with worn blankets and a rickety looking kitchen table surrounded by stools. he returns with a thin padded mattress and a pillow and he sets it down by the burning fireplace. it’s not the luxurious four post bed that you’re used to, but it’ll do.

“let me treat that for you,” he gestures at your knees, where small dots of blood seep through a tear in your trousers. there’s a small scrape you didn’t notice until now, the sting making itself known when you bend your leg just a bit to get a better look. 

“it’s just a scratch,” you protest, not wanting to bite off more than you can chew with him. you already owe him for letting you in, you don’t want to think about how fast your reserves will dwindle down if he does you any more favors.

“please, i insist,” he guides you to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen table before reaching into the cabinet next to him. “i’m an apothecary, and i know my way around basic medicine. it’s not a big deal.”

you nod stiffly and let him inspect the small wound, the breath leaving you when he drops to his knees in front of you to get a better look. he rolls up your pant leg and he cleans it with rapt attention, making sure not to press too hard, and applies a greenish looking salve onto it.

“there, all done,” he says, patting the bandage he had wrapped around it before letting the cloth of your trousers back down. 

“thank you,” you say, genuine in the way his returning smile is. you reach into your bag, fishing for the small bag of coins. “how much? i can pay you in advance for letting me stay, and for this.”

“keep it,” he says, voice even softer than it was before. “you can help me around the house. the weeding, or gathering wood for the fire. i don’t want your money, not when you probably need it more than i do. i make enough to get by.”

so you do. the first morning you stumble through the garden, side by side with him as he shows you which plants in his garden were herbs he could use for his medicines and which were leeching weeds that needed to be plucked before they took over the entire space. he disappears to town in the afternoon, delivering medicines and coming back with a pocket jingling with coins and a bag full of fresh pastries for the both of you. they taste better than anything you’ve eaten from the palace cooks, and you can’t help the way you moan around the cherry hand pie. you catch his eye and he meets it before you both dissolve into giggles, leaning into each other’s space on the same side of the table. 

he helps you wash your clothes that night, tutting at how you only have one pair. he lends you a pair of his, an old set that he doesn’t wear anymore. you lay at night and swipe the fabric between your fingers, smiling at the gesture even though he isn’t there to receive it.

his kindness shocks you, you’re not used to people doing things for you without the authority of the crown making them or them demanding something in return. it’s nice, knowing that there’s people in your kingdom that contain such compassion, especially for strangers. 

the next day he takes you deeper into the forest to pick berries, and the red and purple bursted splotches staining your fingertips for hours after. he feeds you some with his bare hand, swiping his thumb against the corner of your mouth when sweet juice escapes it. you bristle at the action and he laughs, and you have to hide your smile in your sleeve as you wipe the rest off yourself. you stay out until the sun begins to set, him busy teaching you about every type of plant the two of you come across on your stroll and you listening with rapt attention. his voice is soothing, words speeding up and slurring together a bit when he finds something particularly interesting that he wants to show you. he makes you feel almost like when you were a child studying with your tutors, quizzing you every now and then to test your retention, but the smile he rewards you with is better than anything they ever gave you. 

on the third day, he’s gone before you wake. he left a note on the table for you stating that he had to go to town for a medical emergency, and that there was bread and cheese in one of the cupboards for you to eat while he was away. you busy yourself with two knitting needles and a ball of thread you find in the living room, trying and failing to create a pattern of knots. he comes home as the sun is setting, the last rays making his hair a honeyed brown and his skin glow. your stomach clenches at the sight of him, the relief you’re feeling foreign to your body. 

he grins at the sight of you surrounded by unraveled strings and gently pries your hands from the needles where they had become clenched. he wordlessly shows you how to create simple weaves with the needles, and you have to ask him to show you twice because you’re too busy staring at his tongue poking from his lips to focus the first time around. you end up with a wobbly looking hat, some knots too bit and some too tight that create gaping holes in weird places, but he places it on his head and thanks you for it anyways.

“you have a lot of secrets,” he muses the next night, sipping tea with you by the fireplace. you almost lose your grip on the mug from his abruptness.

“i do?” you ask, not willing to give away information that he doesn’t already have. you had spent the day in companionship, trading back quips and sarcastic comments between meals. he taught you about the medicines he was making that day, explaining each ingredient and its properties as he cut them up and beat them into a paste. his comment was out of place, but it’s something you’ve come to expect from him; there’s no predictability to him past the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles and the way his face goes soft when he looks at you. 

“you pretend you’re a commoner, but your hands are free of callouses. your hair is full and healthy, you speak formally, you’re clearly well off. or at least, you were. what i don’t understand is why you decided to leave that behind.” his bottom lip is twisting between his teeth, not knowing whether he’s crossed a line with you.

“true,” you admit, wrapping your hands further around your tea and letting the warmth seep into your hands. it grounds you. “i didn’t think i had a choice. i wanted to make my own decisions, wanted to decide my own fate, not have someone do it for me. i felt suffocated, so i just. left. i don’t know what i was looking for, but i needed to get out.”

“have you found it?” he says, peering at you from above his mug as he takes a long sip. “what you’re looking for?”

“maybe,” you pause, looking into his eyes. they’re cocoa-dusted brown, the fire dancing across his pupils. he looks away after a moment, and you’re grateful for it. you wouldn’t want him to see the flush thats traveled up to your cheeks and ears. 

by the fifth day, you’re able to identify the uncomfortable feeling in your gut whenever he walks into a room. or looks at you. or breathes, really. 

you’re falling for him. 

you’re not in love with him, you’re not so deluded by his puppy-like charm and stupid smile and cute teeth and sparkly eyes that you’re calling it love. you can simply identify the feeling of free falling as clearly as it was laid out in the novels you used to sneak into your room to read by the candlelight before bed. 

it isn’t as difficult to look him in the eyes after you’ve identified it as you thought it would be. if anything, you’re even more drawn to his magnetism, your body moving towards his without your permission at any given time. while he’s preparing lunch, or chopping herbs, or telling you about his trip to town, you’re in his space. and the worst part is, he doesn’t seem to mind. in fact, he seems to gravitate towards you with the same intensity, or you hope so at least; it isn’t unrealistic that it’s your rose-colored vision making you see things that aren’t there. 

regardless, it brings something more dangerous to your attention: hope. the hope that maybe, this could be a life for you. that this temporary stop in your journey might become permanent. that you’re far enough from your home that no one will recognize you if you step into town, that you could spend the rest of your days with him in this cottage, eating pastries and knitting and picking berries. 

there was no need to tell him that now. you were fine with the way things were, you were still technically engaged, and you didn’t even know if you were ready for something like that. for the infinite time since you can remember, you’re cursing your sheltered upbringing for not teaching you how to live.

it’s on the sixth day that things go crumbling down.

he’s gone again, leaving you in comfortable silence broken up by birds chirping outside and the sound of leaves rustling past the windows. it’s domestic, the way he works during the morning and comes home a few hours later to you twiddling the knitting needles between your hands, a ball of yarn by your feet and a haphazard scarf forming under them. 

“your highness?” he says, and you hear a rustle of paper, him putting his mail down most likely.

“hmm?” you sound absentmindedly, still focused on the knitting you’re trying to painstakingly learn. it hits you a moment later what he said, and you drop the scarf and needles with a gasp. you look up to see your worst nightmare in the form of him holding up a missing persons poster, a drawn image of your face adorning the middle and your name plastered underneath. missing princess, it reads, complete with a reward for your safe return. you knew this would happen, you just didn’t think it would happen so soon. a day before your wedding. you thought you had more time. you were so close to your freedom, and you could feel it slipping through your fingers.

“shit,” you curse, hiding your face in your hands so you don’t have to take in the shocked look on his face. you feel all the blood in your head rushing south, leaving you lightheaded and overwhelmed.

“you’re the princess?” he clearly has no care for your distress in this moment as he stalks towards you, the poster crumpling in his hand when it curls into a fist. “i’ve been harboring the missing princess in my home?”

“yes?” you mumble into your fingers, letting the despair settle in your traitorous stomach. he lets out a sharp breath through his teeth and you flinch, thoughts swirling.

“do you know what would happen to me if anyone finds out i’ve been keeping you here? prison would be a paradise.” you hear his feet bringing him closer to you, each drop synchronizing with your heart beating in your throat.

“please,” you remove your hands, sniffling when a traitorous tear traces down your face. “don’t send me back. i’ll give you all the money i have, just don’t send me back there.”

“hey,” he soothes, anger melting into concern as he folds to his knees in front of you. “i won’t. i wouldn’t. i just- why didn’t you tell me?”

“i didn’t know if i could trust you, at first,” you stutter out, ignoring the way your heart clenches when his face falls. “and after…there wasn’t a good time.”

“why would you give all that up? a life of luxury, never needing to ask for anything, why would you leave that to spend your days here? don’t you want to marry some prince and live in your castle?”

“i don’t want some prince. i want you,” your voice is wobbly, vision clouded by the tears you won’t let fall, but your intention is clear.

“you can’t just-” he cuts himself off, taking in a sharp breath through his nose. “you can’t want me. i’m nobody.”

“you’re not,” you press, standing until you’re level with him. “don’t you understand? it’s you. you were what i was looking for all this time.”

“but,” he protests, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up from its careful placement. “why me?”

“you’re my home, seungmin. i’ve never felt more safe or more comfortable than i have within these walls.” desperate tears continue to sting at your eyes, and he reaches to wipe them away before he can help himself. your palms move to cup his hands to your face, keeping his warmth there. “you’re the only one who sees me as more than just something they can use, you see me. please don’t send me away.”

“would you be happy here?” he asks, voice trembling. he wants you to stay.

“i’ve been happier these past six days than i’ve been my entire life.”

he surges to kiss you, finally letting your lips touch after days of lingering glances, and it feels like coming home.

you didn’t know if you would go back to the palace, but you knew you had responsibilities that you couldn’t just ignore and that you had to deal with them soon. what you were completely sure of was that, despite the wishes of your family, you won’t marry at all if you aren’t marrying him. 

[omegawhiskers]

RAW 6/11/23

WAR GAMES

It's the Raw after Crown Jewel and this episode did a good job at establishing matches for Survivor Series. As you can see from the above graphic, each team is missing one person. It's obvious that Drew McIntyre will join The Judgement Day while Randy Orton will join team babyface. Drew's only appearance on this show was driving up to the building, getting out of his car, only to get back in and drive away. I was surprised he never made an appearance again.

The showed opened with Seth Rollins giving props to Sami Zayn for stealing Damian Priest's briefcase. Like a good GM, Adam Pearse took it back. Rollins decides that Sami deserves a shot at his title tonight. Our main event is locked in.

Priest is not happy with the tom foolery that went down at Crown Jewel, but tonight he teams with Finn Balor to face The New Day in what was a short match. Next week, Priest and Balor will defend the titles against Cody Rhodes and Jey Uso.

Shinsuke Nakamura vs. Akira Tozawa was another short bout. The positive is that Tozawa got some offense. Next week it will be Nakamura vs. Otis.

Finally we got a longer match for the number one contender for the Intercontinental Title. The four-way match consisted of The Miz vs. Bronson Reed vs. Ivar vs. Ricochet. This was a pretty exciting match with some neat spots from Ivar and Ricochet. The ending of this was bizarre. Miz pinned Reed, while Ivar pinned Ricochet. The ref counted as Ricochet kicked out, but Reed stayed down for the count. Even though The Miz won, both the ref and commentary were perplexed. They gave the impression that Miz did not win because Ricochet kicked out. Also, The Miz as a babyface is not working. He needs to reinvent himself in some way because this run will get stale pretty fast.

DIY lost to The Creed Brothers in a inferior match compared to last week. Julius and Brutus have been signed to Raw, including Ivy Nile, who was in a Battle Royal for a shot at Rhea Ripley at Survivor Series.

I can't fault this Battle Royale, it was pretty good. Xia Li took out Becky Lynch on the way out. Pearce remove Li from the match as Becky couldn't compete. Niki Cross is still doing the stare thing...I think she needs help...Nile got the spotlight as she was one of the last remaining women in the ring. Zoey Stark won the challenge and will get a shot at Rhea Ripley for the Woman's World Championship at Survivor Series. I liked how this match unitized talent.

Moving into the main event, I really thought Drew or Damian would get involved in this match, but this was just a straight up wrestling match where two men gave a good performance. I think this match may have been roughly 20 minutes. Of course we got a post match brawl with the Judgement Day, Cody and Jey. A furious Pearse came out to break things up and a made a War Games match for Survivor Series. It will be Cody Rhodes/Seth Rollins/Sami Zayn/Jey Uso VS. Damien Priest/Finn Balor/JD McDonagh/Dominik Mysterio.

While this wasn't the best Raw for matches, it did move pieces in the right direction for Survivor Series. I didn't feel any segment was unnecessary, and I liked that Adam Pearse inserted strong authority throughout the show.

[greatwyrmgold]

I can't get over how fucking weaksauce the concessions the Royal Ivy family made to Stale are. "We're giving your mom an annuity instead of a lump sum. You know, as the price for buying you as what's basically a slave. But don't worry, she can send a letter once a month, and you can write back once a year."

Like, yes, objectively this is better than throwing a little cash at Stale's mom and never letting them know whether the other still lives. But it's such a petty improvement that the anime plays up so much. It moved Stale to the point that he devotes his life to being the best little guy the Royal Ivy family could hope for, for god's sake. It's almost as ridiculous a plot point as Stale is a name.

[hederasgarden]

Ivy dearest this is literally the weirdest thought I have ever had but I thought you might appreciate it too. I've shared it around with a few, but it's just too good not too (lol).

You and Rhett have taken care of alot of creatures before but nothing could beat when Louie and Merry showed up on your doorstep.

These two were the most gorgeous trumpeter swans you had ever seen frequenting the pond in the meadow near your house. Royal and Cece were amazed that these two never left each other's sides, even when Napoleon and Lafayette, your two hound dogs, started barking at'em.

Royal would give you guys all the stale bread in the house and you would break off pieces to feed to the pair. They were always very sweet birds and never bit or hissed at either of you and always came to visit when you two sat near the pond.

The weather had begun to get colder and you noticed that something was up with Louie and you and Rhett were shocked that he and Merry both had a broken wing and couldn't fly. You and Rhett took them both in and Royal even helped you make a splint for their broken wings, but for some odd reason, the two swans refused to leave. That year, Wabang ended up getting slammed with a pretty bad snowstorm and you refused to let Louie and Merry out in it.

You and Rhett set up a little spot for them in the room that served as your in-home animal nursery and there they slept and recovered. As soon as spring hit, you and Rhett set to work on building them a pretty sizeable house with a fenced in yard. Much to your surprise, Merry starts getting quite broody along with her mate and that summer, twelve little baby swans are running around in the grass and swimming in the pond with their momma and daddy. Merry and Louie recovered from their injuries but that doesn't mean they plan on leaving the ranch anytime soon, but you and Rhett wouldn't have it any other way.

This is lovely. Thank you for sharing, Mary!!

[jeysbvck]

You've totally made my day 😂❤️

I got into watching wrestling when I was in school it was Shawn Michaels that first got me (just thought he was so talented and cool and stupid funny). The more I watched I started liking DX and most of the old school wrestlers (it was different back the 😆) Then I had a massive break for years and only got back into it last year. I was pretty sick so wasn't able to do much and wrestling was on and that's when I saw Sami and then Kevin. They got me back into it. Just loved them individually but their friendship and chemistry was just a pleasure to witness. I had no idea about the whole bloodline "history" till a video popped up on Facebook. That's when I went back and watched the whole thing and I was just blown away!! Honestly the bloodline was going stale till Sami breathed life back into it.

Right now Sami and Kevin are top tier ✨

Other current favourites to watch would be Jimmy, R-Truth, The Miz, Rey Mysterio, DIY, Bayley, Naomi, Raquel, The Usos (tag team), Wolf dogs

Other ones I am partial to watching are AJ Styles, New Day, Jey, Tozawa, Bobby Lashley, Dom Mysterio, McIntyre, Waller & Theory (are starting to grow on me), Ripley, Zelina, Stark, Orton, Roman (I'm on the fence about him), Michin, Ivy Nile

These are the ones I can remember right now, might've missed a couple

Anywayy that answer was wayyy too long 😂😆😅

Who are your "the ones to watch"??

🐨

oh i LOVE that!! i can't remember how i got into it honestly, it was more my mum & dad watched it all the time, & me and my brother just fell in love with it😂 (my mum was/is a big shawn michaels girlie, so i always had a little place in my heart for him!) john cena & jeff hardy were my faves growing up tho!! (& 14 year old me fell in love with cody rhodes when he debuted & that's never changed🤭) i also fell off it tbh, i began to spend more time out of the house & with friends, but id always watch the ples! one time, i was in my bedroom with my now fiancé (boyfriend at the time) & i went to talk to my brother who was downstairs watching a royal rumble, & my partner came downstairs like 2 hours later like "i knew you'd got sucked into this"😂😂 i got back into it properly in 2022, i'd been following thru clips etc (bc id seen cody had come back, but was out injured) & then i saw jey uso and was like OH MY GOD IM IN LOVE and i started watching the weekly shows again😭

oooh some good choices there, i approve!!🤭😂 my faves are; jey, cody, sami (i call them my trifecta!) i love kevin so much, seth is my guy, (they could never make me hate him!!) bayley is my baby, becky is the loml they could also never make me hate her!! rhea, tiffany!! i also love me some randy too, he's another one that i loved growing up!! i too love the wolf dogs, especially bron😍 (and i love trick williams, axiom & tony d from nxt!!)

grayson & theory have grown on me so bad since becoming a tag team (i didn't like theory at all beforehand), i love jimmy (hes my bff🤭) and solo but as a jey girlie through and through we're not on speaking terms right now😂😂 and im a finn girl too im just very underwhelmed right now!!😂

pls don't worry about long replies!! i love talking, especially about wwe!!🥰

[reyloyal]

Stronghold~ a Medieval Reylo Story - chapter 9

warnings and summary - masterlist

Chapter warning - manipulation of young Ben, violent nightmares

A healthy fear of the unknown is a good thing for a child to have. Those who understand the dangers of barreling headfirst into uncertain situations tend to live long, fulfilling lives.

Ten year old Ben Solo cared little for the concerns of longevity and health, so long as the sweet taste of adventure could be had.

When his peers would cower or run back to their mothers in the face of danger, he would charge ahead with the sort of wide eyed enthusiasm that worried the adults around him.

Sprained, broken and bloodied parts never stopped him. The healers would set him right and the boy would be off, exploring and fighting until his next injury.

Grinning now as he ran, Ben felt that invincible delight as he went careening down the castle halls, the sounds of his playmates following close behind to spur him on.

He liked leading the charge. Even if they had to do as he said, being the sons of his family’s royal court and all, he liked to think they followed his commands because he was good at giving them.

Their wild shouts and hollers rang out behind him and filled the prince with a sense of reckless overconfidence that other children were drawn too.

He ran past his mother’s Ladies laughing at their scowling faces, happy to tease the women as he passed with his entourage cheering him on before Ben took the boys down a back stair and dark hallway that stretched for much longer than they'd been expecting. Finally, they came to a heavy set of double doors.

“Where are we going?” One of the boys asked as Ben slowed.

He glanced back with a grin and pushed through to reveal an open-air walkway that connected the many occupied wings of the castle to this one.

No one came here anymore. The stones were worn and uncared for, leaving gaps to see the ground so many feet below them. The ivy was growing up the walls and along the stone banister of the wide bridge.

Ben himself had only discovered this abandoned section of the castle in a dream. When he woke with the path etched in his mind, he knew it was real, though he decided to keep that fact to himself.

The prince walked out into the sun, followed by his hesitant companions.

He scanned the walls of the east wing, searching as he caught his breath.

At the other end of the bridge were double doors identical to the ones they’d just come through. These however were cracked and broken making them much more desirable than what he sought. But the dream had not taken him through that way. It had shown him something much more unassuming.

“There” Ben pointed across to a little door one would hardly notice if they weren’t looking for it.

The door was made of the same pale stone as the castle and though it was not meant to be completely hidden, he knew as soon as he spotted it, this was the sort of thing he’d be told not to go messing with if his mother or minders knew.

“Whats there? I don’t see anything.” The Duke’s son Wald was always good at complaining.

“Just follow me,” Ben said and led the way. The four boys did as told, not wanting to seem like cowards, though silently they wondered what degree of trouble they would get into for listening to the prince again.

At the wall, Ben reached out, sliding his hand along the gritty stone. This was it, he knew it. With an enthusiastic effort, he pushed the door, but the thing would not budge. “Come on, help me!” He ordered and soon lots of dirty hands joined his and began to push.

With a combined shout to build their strength, the boys gave it their all.

In reply an ancient rumbling vibrated up their arms as the stone door slowly swung open.

A cool, stale air rushed up like the breath of ghosts escaping towards the light of day, tussling the boys hair.

Wide eyed with wonder, Ben smiled. This was just as he’d dreamed.

A strange sensation, unlike anything he’d ever felt before sparked to life at the boys’ center, like a connection to something dark and wonderful. It was a call that felt as familiar as the voice of his mother, but cold and not all together safe. It was thrilling.

One of the boys named Aldous went running with a scream that made Ben chuckle.

“Anyone else too afraid to follow, go now.” He said and glanced over his shoulder looking smug in the way that only fearless ten year old boys can.

All but one went running off.

“I want to see!”

Of course Finn stayed. Ben smiled down on the face of his best friend, as eager and excited as his own.

“Come on.” Ben said with a renewed spirit, happy for the company.

The two of them crossed the threshold, stepping onto the small landing which lead to a rounding stairwell.

The descent into the dark seemed to go on for ages, until the effect of seeing nothing more than steps and narrow walls became dizzying.

At last the sunlight faded and they found themselves in near darkness.

When Ben began to the worry the dream had steered him wrong and he felt the heat of fear in his arms and legs, the steps came to an abrupt end and the boys stopped, standing very close to one another.

“It’s too dark, did you bring the torch?” Ben asked.

Finn nodded. “Just like you said to,” He replied and turned away, reaching into his pants happy to be rid of the awkward stick.

Finn’s father was a commander in the army, he taught his son many things. How to quickly start a fire had been one of them and Ben was happy for the brilliance of his friend.

Once Finn managed to light the torch, he held the fire high and the two boys stepped forward, letting the hidden chamber be revealed.

It was a strange open space, completely empty or so it seemed, with ceilings so high, they disappeared into darkness. The room also had a pale yellow glow about it from the fine settling of dust over the ground.

“Look” Finn whispered pointing with the torch.

Ben peered across the room until his eyes adjusted and he saw.

A statue nearly twenty feet high rose up. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart race as he stepped back, bumping into to Finn who was so stunned he didn’t notice.

The robed figured loomed over them, overwhelming the boys to the point of running away if they weren’t so curious.

The eyes of the unknown statue were cast downward, their hands strangely placed, hovering above one another, as if holding an invisible circle.

Ben did not recognize the person or the gesture at all. He had no notion of who they were meant to represent, but he had a strong sense that they were here for protection.

It was incredible, but what lay at the foot of the statue made him gasp in surprise. Again, the dream proved itself.

Ben motioned for Finn to follow with the torch and the boys went to the effigy.

There were two wide steps all the way around that Ben walked up, already knowing what he would find.

Looking down on the ornate covering, the carved face of the king greeted him, asleep in death, his marble broad sword held in his stone hands.

His face looked so familiar that Ben knew at once who it was.

“What is this place?” Finn asked from below.

“The true burial site of my Lord grandfather.” Ben whispered.

Finn gulped. “ Anakin?”

Ben nodded and reached out touching the false blade. “They said no one knows where he is laid, but I knew it was here.”

“How did you know?” Finn asked.

Ben looked at the likeness of the man he’d heard many stories about. “I sensed it. Like he wanted me to come.” He said, his voice light.

Finn stepped back and for the first time felt a shiver of fear. “Maybe we should go. We’re going to be in a lot of trouble if anyone finds us here.”

“I won’t, I’m the prince. My mother is too busy to care and I don’t know where my father is.”

“Your tutor will tell. You’re supposed to be learning history right now.” Finn scolded.

“I am” The prince said and smiled, running his hand over the face of his dead grandfather.

“History, has much to teach us. Just not in this way.”

Both boys gave a shout and jumped away from the tomb, turning to find of all people, high priest Snoke standing in the shadows.

Ben’s heart pounded in his ears, but when he saw the holy man he calmed. “What are you doing down here priest? You scared us both” He said catching his breath.

With a sly smile, the priest stepped out of the dark and approached the boys. “I think I should be asking that of you, your highness. This is not a place for a prince. Come, let me take you back.” He offered motioning towards the stairs.

“Will you tell my mother?” Ben asked looking up at the old face as he and Finn passed.

Snoke shook his head “I will not, but you must be more careful. People do not like snooping, nor do they appreciate the uncovering of old secrets.”

Ben smiled as they walked back up. “You knew him didn’t you?” He asked

“Yes”

“Was he really as terrible as they say?” Ben wondered with youthful enthusiasm.

Snoke laughed as he followed them around the curve. “It is not my place to say, that is for the gods to decide”

“The gods don't exactly give us answers priest” Ben said with a smirk.

Snoke slapped the boy in the back of his head, not to cause real harm but enough to embarrass him and cut his ego down a bit. “Mockery is a sin.”

“Forgive me” Ben mumbled rubbing his head, ignoring Finn’s snicker. “But, sometimes, I think —I’m a lot like him, if what they say is true.”

“In what way?” Snoke asked only mildly curious.

“Well,” Ben looked up at the winding steps and spoke freely “I can feel it. I don’t know exactly what it is, but when I’m angry I feel this sort of thing… inside. Like I can throw the person who makes me mad down to the ground without touching them. That’s how strong the feeling is. I heard my grandfather could raise a man up off his feet with one hand and choke him to death in that same hold. So, maybe I’m like him.”

Snoke stopped on the steps, the wheels of his mind turning quickly until the boys realized he was no longer following.

“Finn” The high priest called.

The boy turned, his smooth brown skin glowing in the sunlight that had managed to come down through the open doorway.

“Go on back to your studies. I’ll speak with the prince alone.”

Finn glanced at Ben as if worried but bowed and said goodbye.

Ben watched his friend trot up the last few steps and disappear. Turning back to the high priest, he felt a strange sort of warning come over him as Snoke came uncomfortably close.

Indignant frown furrowing his brow, Ben leaned away. “What is it?”

Snoke stopped as if realizing he put the boy on edge and smiled.

It was never easy to see the old man’s scarred face twist into a look of happiness. He was so much better at scowling but Ben was used to him. He’d known the man his entire life.

“I’m going to ask you something my prince, your honesty is required as lying to me is the same as lying to the gods.”

Ben nodded, swallowing hard.

“Have you ever reached out, and moved something with your mind?”

The boy looked away unable to conceal his unease.

“It’s alright” Snoke offered and stepped down a single stair so as to not crowd the child. “There is no right or wrong answer”

“Yes” Ben confessed. “I can and it’s very easy.” He answered choosing pride over shame.

Snoke nodded. “For some it is. Has no one spoken to you about the things you can do?”

Ben shook his head.

“Oh, my poor child. You must be very confused.”

Again Ben shook his head no. “I’m not, I know what I am, just not how it happened.”

Staring into the bright eyes of the prince, Snoke quietly let his mind reach, let his own inquiry prod the childs’ untrained mind.

For a split second he was one with Ben, and the power he felt coursing through the boy was as abundant as blood.

Shocked but skilled at keeping his emotions quiet, Snoke smiled… the chamber had tried to show him, but he wouldn’t listen. Now he could not look away. This boy truly could be the one.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” Snoke whispered opening his eyes.

“What’s wrong with magic?” Ben asked as though the priest were wrong for suggesting it.

“Oh, nothing of course,” Snoke said casually “ As you know, the holy men of the temple wield it. And the kingdom has a rich history of king’s working with a mage at their side. But those were all people with —natural talent” Snoke decided to see how easy it would be to mold the boy.

“What do I have?”

“Well, my child, it’s not exactly the same for you. Yours is of an unnatural abnormality that occurs sometimes. None in your family have magic, but the darkness latches on to those with a similar spirit that it can work through. But do not fear, you’ll learn to understand it once you’ve come to the temple for training.”

Ben’s eyes were wide as he listened. It seemed to hurt the boy to hear that he was merely an instrument of things he could not control. “I want to come now!” He snapped. “I want to understand it! I want to know why it chose me!”

“You must stay with your parents until you’re thirteen.”

“My grandfather went when he was nine!”

“Your grandfather was an extraordinary man.”

The boys eyes narrowed on the priest “I can be like him.” He said with the deep resolve of a much older child.

“Calm yourself Solo, you must not forget who you are.” Snoke chided.

“I am like him! I’m just like him!” He shouted and Snoke felt the push, invisible but strong. The boy would throw him down the stairs if he was not careful.

“Ben!”

Both priest and prince looked up at the bright doorway to find Han standing there, looking about as angry as any parent would.

“Don’t say anything about this.” Snoke hissed as Ben started up the steps. “They won’t understand like I do.” He added and watched the prince glance back at him confused. The seed had been planted.

“You get enough of that at temple don’t you son?” Han asked once the prince was on level ground. He pulled Ben close, wrapping his arm around the boys shoulders. “Keep the righteous sermons to Sundays.” He tossed down to Snoke, who stood glaring up at the obnoxious knight.

“Sorry” Ben said as they went back across the bridge and laughed as his father gave his hair a hard tousling. “But, I hate studies with my tutor. Father, they are the most boring waste of time.”

“Oh?” Han laughed as they came to the doors of the west wing. He turned in the threshold to look down at the prince “You just haven’t gotten to the good parts yet.” He insisted with a stern finger in the boys face, his kind eyes betraying his attempt to scold his son.

Feeling the swell of love and relief that all children feel when realizing their parent is on their side, Ben grinned and stepped to follow Han, but the doors shut before he could go through.

“Father?”

He stopped and looked around, shocked to find himself standing alone. The feeling of emptiness took hold of him as though Han had never been there at all.

Turning back towards the east wing, Ben froze, so overcome with fear his mouth opened to scream but his voice was gone.

Han was there again, standing on the path, silent and unmoving. A bright red spot of blood bloomed as it spilled from his heart, expanding to soak the cream shirt he always wore. His face was ashen, dead already as he reached slowly for help.

Taking a step to go to him, Ben was stopped by the words that echoed in his mind.

“Control your fear. Control your heart. Turn your hurt to anger and strike down your enemies.” Snoke whispered his demands into the boys ear, the pain of his knife-like hold that griped Ben’s shoulders making the boy gasp in horror.

Kylo opened his eyes.

The sight of hay and the hint of sunlight between wooden boards disoriented him until he remembered where he’d slept last night.

Sitting up, the king rubbed at his temples with thumb and middle finger, sliding his hand over his face physically trying to wipe away the dream.

Memories of factual events had been mingling with nightmares while he slept, which wasn’t often. It made those rare moments of rest troubling, but he was thankful for the few hours he’d managed.

With a deep sigh, the king opened his eyes again, realizing he wasn’t alone.

Two little heads with two sets of large, curious eyes were watching him from the ladder propped against the ledge.

He stared at them for a moment, until one felt brave enough to come up the rest of the way.

It was the girl. She climbed onto the hay loft and stood out of harms way but near enough to speak. “I’ve never seen a king sleep in a barn before.” She said.

“Have you ever seen a king?” He asked mildly irritated.

She nodded. “Yes. I saw you once. You had a woman with you.”

Kylo showed no hint of the agony in his heart.

The boy joined her and smiled. “Papa says you’re going to leave today.”

“I am”

“Can I come with you?” The boy asked with the thrill of adventure sparkling in his eyes, much like a young Ben Solo might have.

“No,” Kylo answered.

The boy scowled and looked down, kicking at the hay.

“If you want to eat before you go, you should come now, mama doesn’t care who you are, if you’re late for breakfast you don’t get any.” The girl said and turned her back to leave him.

The boy lingered for another moment, but jumped when his sister called for him. Soon the king was alone again.

Kylo sat for a moment listening to them run off then reached and grabbed the small dagger he’d brought along instead of his sword and quickly sheathed it at his hip.

With a groan he went to the ladder and climbed down, stretching his sore body once he stood on the solid floor.

He might ache from the long night spent on hay and wooden boards, but he was still thankful for the farmers kindness.

After feeding his horse, he crossed the yard to the cabin and went inside.

He and the farmer gave one another a nod of mutual respect and the mans’ wife tossed another plate onto the table, her cold eyes and solemn expression making her views on his stay quite clear.

Nonetheless Kylo thanked her and took the empty seat next to their baby perched in its own high chair.

The room was quiet.

The children watched him and would silently giggle while eating their breakfast until even he could not keep a straight face.

“Forgive them. They’ve never eaten in the presence of royalty before.” The wife said with a tight smile over her shoulder. She was still mixing the oatmeal in the pot.

“I’ve never eaten in the presence of children.” He said glancing at their little faces.

“Never?” The boy asked.

“Not even when you were a little boy?” The girl added suspiciously.

Kylo took a bite of bread. “I was born like this.” He said with a mouthful.

The children snickered.

“Crown and all.” He added, raising his brows and smiling.

The farmer looked up at his wife who stood over the stove glaring down at the king.

“Where exactly did you say you’re going?” The farmer asked.

Kylo chewed quickly and looked down the table at him. The baby reached over and tapped the kings arm, hitting him as if he were a drum.

“I didn’t” He said, Unfazed by the baby’s treatment and the man understood his need for secrecy.

“Should we be expecting war?” The wife asked and finally sat down near her husband.

Kylo looked down at his food for a while and imaged this family dead, the bloody images horrific as he’d seen before in other kingdoms along the way.

He would not let it come to that. “No.” He said and sat up straight to look at her. “I must see to something —someone, very special to me. But I have not stopped being your king.”

“Never knew you were.” The farmer replied and Kylo’s eyes darted up, fixing on him.

He glared at the man until he could no longer pretend to be confident in his authority.

Kylo blinked, looking down with the sting of shame. “Calrissian was a good man, and a good king. I wish I’d been smart enough to learn from him. I will do what I can to fix my mistakes.” He said.

The farmer looked over at his wife, their silent exchange missed by Kylo. The room was quiet again until they’d all finished eating.

Helping clear the table was simple enough, though it was painfully obvious the king had never so much as considered assisting with chores a day in his life.

The children continued giggling and playing around him and the baby cried unless Kylo held it which pulled a genuine smile from the wife’s down turned mouth. She said to be trusted by a child or a dog was a sign of having a good soul. The children and animals can sense it, she insisted. Kylo was not inclined to dismiss her compliment, odd as it was.

As the morning wore on, the king worried he would never leave these people if he didn’t guard his heart and be on his way.

“Horse is ready.” The farmer said a while later as he led the stallion out to the yard.

Kylo sat on the step into the farm house, holding the baby, while the girl stood in the doorway, smiling at the king the way a girl her age might and the boy tried yet again to touch his dagger, but the king was too quick and tapped his hand in warning every time. Amused but ready, Kylo squinted against the sun knowing it was time to leave.

Rising up, the two children followed him, sad that he was leaving.

“My wife put in some bread and cheese and a little jam for you.” The farmer said tapping the heavy sack tied to the saddle. “She’s a harsh woman, but her heart is as soft as her oatmeal.” He said and smiled.

Kylo thanked him but felt a sense of loss as he handed the man his child and mounted his horse.

The two older children ran along side, waving until he set the animal to a steady gallop leaving them behind.

If he ever forgot to come back to rule, he would remind himself that people like this were his to protect, and he would do well to return the kindness.

[anonil88]

Generation ep.2 and ep. 3 liveblog/thoughts

I deleted my entries live blog of episode 2 and episode 3 by accident and i don't feel like retyping it but I will say a few things.

Scissoring and Poison ivy, WHAT?

Warning spoilers below.

I kind still don't know how to feel about this show at all. Some of the writing is good, some of the writing is really really stale. The beginning scene of the bathroom pregnancy is not that funny to me. It is more annoying than anything because just calling an emt is much more logical.

Ariana annoys me and I can sense its from her dad's coddling of her behavior BUT what the heck is wrong with sis. The other two in her friend trio, Naomi and Delilah, also very unlikable and Delilah's dialogue is some of the roughest parts of the script in terms of flow etc. But all three characters need some serious reality checks or social awareness for the things they say. Delilah preaches inclusivity and justice but is bestfriends with a known homophobe and mean person. That's odd because shes def not a wallflower in that group and has her own life outside of it. Hence her current pregnancy. Naomi is just a typical teen little sister to Nathan but outting her brother and some of her other comments show exactly why she keeps the other two girls as close friends.

I did say in the deleted liveblog that it never ceases to amuse me that 24/25 year olds can still have a baby face. I'm 24 and the amount of times, pre pandemic, I've been asked how my junior or senior year of highschool is going?

Nathan royally screwed his sisters wedding weekend up on multiple levels but he has a crush on a guy, Chester, who doesn't see him in that way.

I really don't want to see Chester flaunt himself all over this guidance counselor. The counselor could loose his job even if he doesn't reciprocate the actions because he was in the room with how Chester acts up in the promo. Not only that but why do some 17 year olds talk to adults, who have put up clear boundaries, like those boundaries are non-existent. I know people who did it when I was 17 and I've seen the tiktok and Twitter comments, some kids need to relax and take some steps back.

Also the comments in episode 3 that the straight guys made to him in the locker room:

HBO normalizing all bodies on screen is a needed change on TV. No more full frontals are only for women and must be for the obvious male gaze. Just people are naked sometimes in certain environments and its not meant to be sexualized just that bodies exist and should be celebrated in all the forms human bodies come in.

Greta deserves more screentime but I liked her outfit a lot in episode 3. Her and Riley do seem to like eachother but, Riley is a little out of touch. She is focused on herself which as a young person that isn't always a bad thing. But, I want to see Greta flourish and blossom a bit more outside of that friendship with Chester and Riley.

Speaking of friendships I like Riley and Chester becoming friends because they fit well as characters to be in the same friend group.

Underwater gays, even though this time it is life saving and not romantic, is one of my favorite scene parallels because they always shot pretty and i can't swim.

[isekaiscreencaps]

[ianime0]

Lastame | Ep1 | Sorry... I'm sorry... For what? I'm sorry, I... couldn't even help you, I couldn't help a single person. I don't want you to forgive me. It's just, you and your mother are separated, and I can't help you two... I'm sorry I can't fill your heart. I promise you, I will never, ever hurt you more than I already have. You, and the country your mother is in, I will make it so that everyone can keep smiling, for as long as I am alive!

[animemakeblog]

“Higeki no Genkyou to Naru Saikyou Gedou Last Boss Joou wa Tami no Tame ni Tsukushimasu.” The Light Novel For Gets TV Anime in Summer 2023

The television anime adaptation of Tenichi's light novel Higeki no Genkyou to Naru Saikyou Gedou Last Boss Joou wa Tami no Tame ni Tsukushimasu (The Most Heretical Last Boss Queen: From Villainess to Savior) was announced by the broadcaster Mainichi Broadcasting System on Friday. The main cast, staff, teaser image (seen above), and a teaser promotional film were all also made public on the official website. The anime's debut is set for July 2023.

[flourchildwrites]

64 and 25 on the AU mashup. I know I usually ask for Royai, but this time around can I request Havolina? Please? :D Thank you

A/N:  Oh my, @ruikosakuragi !  I fell in love with this prompt the moment I saw it.   You requested numbers 64 (star crossed lovers) and 25 (fairy tale AU) with a havolina ship.  And when I sat down to write, I was in a terrible, terrible funk.  Nothing like a little havolina angst to put me in a better mood.  (We don’t have time to unpack why writing angst brightens my day.)  Thank you for this prompt, and thanks for being one of my favorite readers and writers!

Read on AO3

Whenever Jean Havoc went missing, his mother knew where to find him.  Up the stone staircases of the ivy encased castle, through corridors cloaked in thick tapestries bearing the Armstrong family crest and into the hall of portraits she went.  A young boy of 12, already a knight in training, stared up at a dark-haired woman with enigmatic eyes and a kind smile.  Squire Havoc didn’t put much stock in the written word; he preferred his daggers and swords, but he learned enough to decipher her name, etched into the golden plaque beneath the frame.

Princess Rebecca Talia of Catalina

La Belle au bois dormant

The boy was favored amongst the castles’ inhabitants.  With sun-bleached hair, boyish freckles and a penchant for lighthearted mischief, he captured the hearts of every last scullery maid and made fast friends with the king’s young son, Alexander, a mere six months Havoc’s junior.  His mother, Claudia frowned, as she watched her boy munch a stolen croissant from the kitchens while he gazed longingly at the portrait.  Practically the only person who had not taken a shine to Jean was the queen, and her bedchambers were too close for comfort.

“Come away from there, my son,” Claudia beckoned.  “Come quickly before the queen sees you.  Why must you always return to this picture?”

Young Jean sighed, shoulders hunched forward as he tore his eyes away from the old portrait and heeded his mother’s call.  He didn’t know why he returned to gaze at the woman day after day, sneaking up from the stables with straw in his sleeves and mud on his boots.  But there was an undeniable connection, a pull in her directions like an invisible string of fate that bound them together no matter how far he strayed.  Still, Havoc knew his mother had no stomach for such fairy tales.

“I like to keep her company,” he answered.  “She’s so pretty, but her eyes are lonely.  Don’t you think?”

Claudia grabbed her son’s hand and guided him quickly through the castle with featherlight footsteps.  “I shouldn’t like to find you there again,” she said pointedly as if she knew he would return regardless.

Jean understood her perfectly.

…

Sixteen-year-old Jean visited her in the night when the light of the full moon spilled through the windows of the castle.  While other senior squires warmed the beds of those with bodies, the sins of the flesh never occupied Jean for long.  He loved them but left them with ease, ever drawn to the beloved portrait of Rebecca.

In his youth, Jean had always known to her to beautiful.  But as the years passed, the young squire noticed the fullness of her rosy lips and the blush in her cheek.  The swell of her breasts entranced him further, hastening lustful dreams where she led him toward a cobwebbed bedchamber.  Still, Rebecca’s chestnut eyes were her most alluring feature.  Ever pleading, wanting the company of a man who lived a century after the date scribbled in the corner of the painting.

“Who goes there?”  A booming voice interrupted Havoc’s reverie, sounding from down the hall.

Jean stirred, muscles sluggish from the day’s exertions.  It might have been better to turn tail, but the squire stood his ground.  He adopted an unassuming posture and ran a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Just me, Prince Alexander,” he announced.  “Squire Jean.”

The prince approached with heavy footfalls against the thick, red rug.  Even in his night clothes, Alex looked intimidating, burly and otherwise big.  His muscles tested the elasticity of his night tunic.

“I might have known,” he chuckled.  “You’re not here for my sister Catherine, are you?  I’d hate to have to challenge you to a duel, friend.”

“Too young,” Havoc smirked, cocky as ever.  “I’ve always liked this painting.  The woman in it is… There’s no one else like her.  Too bad she’s long gone.”

Alex grinned, too broadly for Jean to ignore.  He was a terrible liar at the best of times, and he loved gossip more than the washerwomen who babbled ceaselessly as they worked.  Havoc cast the prince an expectant sideways glance.

“Isn’t she dead?  What aren’t you telling me, Alex?”

The prince kept his own counsel for a moment, no more, before letting loose the story of sleeping beauty, Princess Rebecca, with glee.  Enchanted by a bitter alchemist as an infant, the young women fell victim to a ghastly prophecy.  In retaliation for her father’s hubris, she plucked her finger on a splinter while spinning flax and fell into an endless slumber.

“The sage Hohenheim managed to save her,” Alex explained, “but his counter-circle put the rest of Catalina to sleep in exchange for the princess’s life.  His prophecy foretells that she will sleep until the firstborn son of the Southern Kingdom’s 12th king wakes her. And should she rule with him standing by her side, their united kingdoms will be prosperous.”

Havoc could barely believe his ears.  He made a face dripping with incredulity.  “And how much longer does the princess have to wait?”

“Until I wake her with a kiss,” Alex replied.  “The firstborn son of the 12th king is me.”

…

“Ami Jean, lève ton verre, et surtout, ne le renverse pas!  Et porte-le du frontibus…”

King Alexander’s boisterous song rattled the dust from the rafters in the great hall as he drunkenly lumbered amidst the merrymaking.  The knighting ceremony was a festive occasion, beloved by the Southern Kingdom for its pageantry and splendor.  Sir Vato sat in deep conversation with a Northern scholar as Sir Roy and Dame Riza cut striking figures on the dance floor.  The pair’s silver armor glinted in the soft candlelight as they sashayed past Sir Kain, his arm draped over the shoulders of an attractive stable hand.

Claudia caught her son’s eye from around the curtain of the servant’s quarters.  The proud glint of her gaze spoke of volumes of pride, and Sir Jean grinned dashingly in response with a toast in her direction.  Claudia, whose once brown hair was now stained by starlight, would never be permitted to make merry with her son, but she watched, happy for his good fortune.  And Havoc silently thanked the anonymous benefactor who championed his cause all the way to knighthood.

“Sir Jean!”  Havoc turned, searching for the regal body matching the royal voice.  Its owner appeared behind him, dressed in decadent purple robes.

“King Alexander.”  Jean bowed with the balanced poise.

“None of that now, Havoc,” the king chuckled.  “We’ve known each other too long to be beholden to formalities.”

“My greatest ambition is to be of service to you, sire.”  The practiced words fell from his lips like butter, and not for the first time, Havoc wondered if he meant them.

“Then be of service, you shall,” he announced.  “My father has been dead these nine months, and I find myself in want of a queen before my coronation.  You will help me fetch her.”

Jean hadn’t visited Princess Rebecca’s portrait in quite some time, and at the age of 21, he had seemingly caught up to her.  Nevertheless, time had ticked by quicker since King Phillip has passed.  All eyes had turned to his friend, Alex.

“I hardly think you’d need me to help you find a wife,” Sir Jean offered.  “Lady Maria, for example, seems up to the task, and you like her, as I recall.”

“I do like her, but,” Alex pulled Jean in close, ducking his head to whisper in his ear, “Lady Maria will not bring prosperity to my kingdom and unite us with the Catalina territory.  I want her.  I want Princess Rebecca.  Are you with me, Sir Jean?”

Who was a knight to refuse his king?

…

The bramble of thorns encasing the Catalina territory was worse than expected.  Poisonous fog stung the eyes and hovered low to the ground, claiming the lives of the wounded fallen.  Dark creatures of legend and myth with tattered black wings swooped from the skies to pierce intruders with their filthy claws. Early on, Sir Roy was blinded by the gas, and Dame Riza nearly bled out after being attacked by a vicious airborne beast.  Sirs Heymans and Kain escorted their fellows back to the relative safety of the Southern Kingdom.

And on the fifth day, madness set in; King Alexander was affected.

Summoning all his mental fortitude, Jean pressed onward with his ruler in tow.  He grabbed the reins of the king’s horse and followed his instincts.  The young knight’s sense of direction was clouded by muck and mire of his mind’s own creation, but something primal stirred, pulling Havoc along a clear path hidden in the quagmire.

At daybreak, he saw the tall turrets of an ancient castle, older and more massive than any building in the Southern Kingdom.  At the foot of the castle, royal guards in dust-covered tunics slumbered, slumped against the frigid stone; their weapons still poised in their hands.  The air was stale, but decay had inexplicably spared the old Kingdom of Catalina.  Every detail of daily life was still and held static, tinged with a purple glow, the calling card of alchemical mayhem.

“Oh mon Dieu! It’s true,” Jean gasped.  He took in greedy breaths of clean, if dank, air.  Alongside him, Alex followed suit, recovering from his mania.

“I should name my firstborn son after you if we live through this,” Alex said, coughing.  “How did you know that way?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” he quipped, ever the picture of ease under pressure.

Sir Jean and King Alexander navigated the winding staircases of Catalina castle.  Climbing ever higher, they sought the tallest turret of the highest tower, a room that kissed the edges of the darkened clouds overhead.  Somewhere along the way, Sir Jean’s feet began to move of their own accord.  Without rhyme or reason, he followed a siren’s call, a haunting tune that resonated in his heart.

At last, they found her chamber.  The walls were draped with dusty tapestries, and long canopy curtains fluttered in the dreary breeze, obscuring her sleeping figure from Jean’s prying eyes.  Alex moved forward, pushing the curtains aside.  He sat cautiously next to the sleeping woman with red lips, raven hair and slender fingers folded over her flowing red robes.  Princess Rebecca looked serene but deathly pale.  Havoc fought the compulsion to go to her as his friend and king laid a tender kiss on his beloved’s lips.

She remained as still and silent as the grave.

“I don’t understand,” Alex exclaimed.  “I am the firstborn son of the 12th king of the Southern Kingdom.  I am the only one who can break the spell.”

“It’s alchemy,” Sir Jean responded.  “Things go wrong in the best transmutations.  Princess Rebecca might be stuck in eternal slumber.”

The king left the princess’s bedside, not bothering to draw the curtain as he turned to leave.  “Some of my best knights were harmed during this foolish endeavor,” he growled, “and for what purpose?”

Jean couldn’t help himself.  He ducked under the gossamer curtain and kneeled next to the bed with a reverent posture.  Havoc brought the beauty’s hands to rest in his own, so cold and small.  He noticed the fabled splinter still lodged under her fingernail and plucked it out, regretting that she should be left so beautiful and unblemished against the current of time.

A breath. A twitch.  The delicate flutter of her eyelashes. 

“My king!  She wakes!”  Havoc exclaimed, standing up and pushing himself back from his intimate pose.  He embellished for good measure as Alex entered the room.  “You have awakened her.  See?”

Chestnut eyes, a heartbreaking shade of gold veiled in melancholy cream, fluttered open and stared into Jean’s face.  Her lips moved uncertainly, drawing Jean back to her bedside.  He smiled, as brilliantly as the sun.

“Don’t try to speak so soon,” Sir Jean cautioned.  He wet her lips tenderly with water from his canteen.

“My king,” she said, looking up at Jean.

“It is I who am your king,” Alex interrupted.  He scooped her up in his arms as Havoc pocketed the splinter along with his broken heart.

…

Prophecies were a funny thing, Jean decided, as he gazed up at the official portrait of the Southern Kingdom 12th king, hung proudly in the royal family’s private suite.  King Philip had always been kind to Havoc, favoring him to a fault, and promoting the child to squire at a young age despite his discipline issues.  What’s more, Havoc recalled that King Phillip had never once corrected foreign dignitaries when they mistook Jean and Alex for brothers.  Perhaps, Jean should have put the pieces together sooner.

Why say “the firstborn son of the 12th king” when one could simply say the 13th king?  Havoc knew the answer (for all the good it did).

Princess Rebecca Talia of Catalina was now Queen Rebecca, bound by the ties of holy matrimony to Jean’s childhood friend and king.  Alex was a good man and a just ruler.  It pained Havoc to harbor lustful thoughts for his friend’s bride.  Yet, however wrong it felt, the feel of Havoc’s mouth against the hollow of Rebecca’s throat eased his ailing conscience time and time again.

In any other life, their stars would have aligned.

“Must you always leave me so soon?” Rebecca cooed.  She drew the covers playfully over her swollen belly as she watched her lover dress, preparing to leave using the secret passageway behind the bureau.  Havoc tried not to stare, but it was hard to remember that, in the light of day, they could be no more than a queen and her knight.

“Damn,” he exhaled, half-tempted to throw it all away right then and there.  He pressed his nose into the soft lavender scent of Rebecca’s hair and caressed her waist possessively, in awe of the new life dwelling within her.  Like all their other stolen moments, Jean tucked the memory of holding her so close away for safe keeping.  Bedding a queen was hardly a luxury that a knight could regularly afford.

…

Princess Chloe was christened on a blustery Autumn morning just as the leaves began to fall from their trees.  Naturally, King Alexander and Queen Rebecca were wary, refusing all gifts from the alchemists in attendance, including the famed Brothers Elric, for fear of history repeating itself.  The ceremony was brief but beautiful, drawing attendees from across the four kingdoms.  Banners in the great hall proudly displayed the Southern Kingdom’s union with the rediscovered Catalina territory, and as far as anyone besides the queen and her favorite knight knew, there was no better symbol of that unity that the princess.

Sir Jean stood sentry beside the Queen, watching over Rebecca as their newborn infant suckled at her mother’s breast.  It wasn’t much, Havoc knew, but it would have to be enough.  For as long as his body drew breath, he would never leave Rebecca, bound by ties of duty and fate. He stood silently by his beloved’s side as she ruled with King Alexander. 

The Southern Kingdom prospered, as the sage Hohenheim had foretold.

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