#the princess and me: act 3

[madebysimblr]

Raina: I… I can explain why I’m here! How I’m here. All that… If you want to hear it- but I need to say something first.

Raina: For the last year and a half… I’ve missed you so much. And I still love you. More if that’s possible. I don’t want to be without you, even if all we can be is friends. But I’m not staying in Asteria. Only ever going to visit now.

Raina: But…. If you feel the same way as you did. I’ll leave you alone. I promise. I just had to see you. I hope you can understand-

[sevrinve]

Astarion x tav (elora) brainrot

[jhyoos]

Of Roses And Steel

chapter one : where roses bloom

knight sevika x princess reader

mentions : royalty au, medieval au, romance, strong reader (as in combat and intelligence), silco is king, reader is a heavy daddy’s girl, silco being soft around her daughter, sevika is only 5 years older than you, major character deaths, very long first chapter !

notes : let me know if you guys like the small text or should I go back to bigger words. another chapter will be released tomorrow!

↳ next chapter

The night of the queen’s death remained seared into your memory like a jagged scar, a moment that altered the course of your life—and the kingdom—forever.

Your mother had always been the kingdom’s heart, her kindness radiating like the sun, touching the lives of every villager, knight, and noble. She possessed an innate gift for seeing the good in people, even when they couldn't see it in themselves. When she had married your father, her warmth had melted away the rougher edges of Silco, a man who was once feared for his ruthlessness.

Before her, Silco’s reign had been efficient but cold, his focus solely on maintaining power and expanding the kingdom's borders. But with the queen by his side, something shifted. She softened him, guiding him to rule with compassion as well as strength. Under her influence, roads were built, trade flourished, and the kingdom prospered. When you were born, the union of their love, Silco seemed to find an even deeper purpose. He adored you from the moment he held you in his arms, his mismatched eyes filled with awe.

“She’s perfect,” he’d whispered to the queen, who smiled through her exhaustion. “Just like her mother.”

Your early years were filled with laughter and warmth. Your mother would sing to you in the mornings while brushing your hair, and Silco, despite his busy schedule, would often sneak away from his duties to spend time with you. He read you bedtime stories, his deep voice weaving tales of adventure and bravery. You were his reason to rule with integrity, his reminder that the kingdom’s future depended on more than power—it depended on love.

But everything changed the day your mother decided to visit the village alone.

You were six years old, clinging to her skirts as she prepared to leave.

“Must you go?” you asked, your voice small and pleading.

She knelt before you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I must,” she said gently. “The children in the village are sick, and they need help. But I won’t be long, my love. I’ll be back before the sun sets.”

She kissed your forehead, her smile warm and reassuring, and then she was gone. You spent the rest of the day waiting by the window, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky.

When the sun finally set and she had not returned, unease settled over the castle like a heavy fog. It was Sevika—then a young squire barely in her teens—who came running into the throne room with the news. Her face was pale, her breath coming in short gasps as she fell to one knee before Silco.

“Your Majesty,” she said, her voice trembling. “There’s been… an attack. The queen—she—”

Silco rose from his throne, his voice cutting through her stammering like a blade. “What happened?”

“She was ambushed,” Sevika managed, her hands clenched into fists. “A group of thieves—they didn’t know who she was. She fought back, but…” Her voice broke, and she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

Silco didn’t need her to. The look in his eyes was enough to send a shiver through the room, a mix of fury and anguish so profound it was almost unbearable to witness. He left the throne room without another word, his footsteps echoing through the silent hall.

The days that followed were marked by grief and silence. Silco locked himself away, emerging only for the queen’s funeral. You remembered the way he stood by her casket, his shoulders rigid, his mismatched eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse but steady.

“She was too good for this world,” he said, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face. “But I will ensure her legacy lives on.”

He turned his focus to you, doubling down on his efforts to keep you safe. Guards followed you everywhere, even within the castle walls. He forbade you from going into the village, insisting it was too dangerous. His love became suffocating, a cage built from his fear of losing you as he had lost her.

You grew up under the shadow of that fear, but you refused to let it define you. Determined to honor your mother’s memory, you threw yourself into your studies, mastering everything from diplomacy to combat. Your father disapproved of your training, insisting that the daughter of a king had no need for swords or bows. But you persisted, finding solace in the discipline and focus it required.

It wasn’t until you were sixteen that you truly began to make a name for yourself among the knights. One of the senior knights, impressed by your determination, arranged for you to train with Sevika, who had recently returned to the castle after years spent serving on the borders.

Sevika was in her early twenties then, already gaining a reputation as a skilled and fearless warrior. She had a scar running down the side of her face, a mark of the battle that had earned her the rank of head knight. She rarely spoke, her focus entirely on her duties, but when she did, her words carried weight.

Your first session with her was a turning point. She showed you how to hold a bow, correcting your posture and guiding your hands with a gruff patience you hadn’t expected. “Don’t overthink it,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Just breathe and let the arrow fly.”

For a brief moment, you saw a softer side of her, a flicker of something almost kind beneath her stoic exterior. It was enough to make your heart flutter, a feeling you didn’t entirely understand at the time.

From then on, your crush on Sevika only grew, fueled by fleeting moments of warmth amidst her cold professionalism. She was everything you admired: strong, capable, and unyielding. But she was also distant, her loyalty to your father a wall you doubted you’d ever be able to breach.

You were every bit the spoiled princess, and you made no apologies for it. Your wardrobe was filled with the finest gowns in silks, satins, and velvets, each more extravagant than the last. Shoes adorned with delicate embroidery and shimmering jewels lined your chambers, matched meticulously to every ensemble. The maids who styled your hair each morning knew your tastes well—tight curls for formal occasions, elegant braids when you ventured to court, and soft waves for quiet evenings spent reading in your chambers. It was a life of luxury and ease, one that you embraced wholeheartedly.

Your favorite moments, however, were the hours spent with your ladies-in-waiting. Gathered in the sunlit parlor, the scent of freshly brewed tea mingling with the fragrance of blooming flowers, you would sit for hours, gossiping and laughing with your closest confidantes. Together, you exchanged stories, whispered secrets, and speculated about the various knights, courtiers, and even the visiting nobility. You didn’t shy away from discussing the beauty of the women who graced the castle halls, often causing a ripple of giggles among your companions when your admiration turned bold.

Through it all, there was one secret you kept entirely to yourself: your growing infatuation with Sevika. It wasn’t the kind of crush you could casually admit during tea or in the middle of idle chatter. Sevika’s cold professionalism and the unyielding strength she displayed as the head knight made her a figure of both admiration and intimidation. Her rare moments of warmth toward you—brief, fleeting instances where she adjusted your grip on a bow or gave a quiet word of approval—were treasures you tucked away in your heart, replaying them long after they passed.

But secrets have a way of surfacing, and yours was no exception. One lazy afternoon, as Mel helped you reorganize your chambers, she discovered a bundle of papers hidden beneath your bed. They were scraps of poetry and unsent letters, scrawled confessions of your feelings for Sevika. Mel’s gasp of surprise as she read them turned your blood cold. You tried to snatch them away, but it was too late—she knew. Her teasing smirk was almost unbearable as she leaned against your bedpost, waving the papers at you.

“Sevika?” she drawled, one perfectly arched brow lifting in amusement. “You’re in love with her?” Mel, ever the quick-witted daughter of a noblewoman, didn’t let you live it down easily. Though she was sworn to secrecy, she took great delight in teasing you about your unspoken feelings, often poking fun at how flustered you became whenever Sevika was nearby. Despite your embarrassment, there was a part of you that found comfort in sharing your secret with someone, even if Mel’s constant smirking made you regret it at times.

The dining hall was bathed in warm candlelight, the long table laden with golden platters of roasted meats, fruits, and delicacies from across the kingdom. Laughter and chatter filled the room, and for a brief moment, everything felt peaceful. You sat at your father’s right hand, the place of honor, dressed in a gown of soft lavender silk. The fabric shimmered with each movement, the embroidery catching the flickering light. Around you, nobles toasted to victories, knights traded boasts, and your ladies-in-waiting whispered behind their hands, no doubt commenting on which of the lords appeared most eligible.

You entertained their murmurs with a polite smile, but your focus drifted to the heavy doors of the hall. You noticed them before they opened, as if instinctively sensing Sevika’s arrival. She stepped inside, her boots echoing against the stone floor. She wasn’t in her usual armor but a simpler, dark tunic and breeches, though her presence alone was as commanding as any battle regalia. She moved with purpose, her scarred face set in a grim line.

“Sevika,” Silco called, his voice cutting through the noise. The room fell silent as she approached the king, bowing her head slightly.

“Apologies for the interruption, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice low but carrying easily through the hall. “There’s news from the gates.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. Silco’s eyes narrowed, his wineglass forgotten in his hand. “Speak.”

“The monsters at the borders are escalating their attacks,” Sevika began. “They’re not just striking in waves anymore. It’s constant now. The knights are struggling to keep them contained, and we’re losing ground. Reports suggest their numbers are too great for our current defenses.”

A murmur rippled through the assembled nobles. Silco’s grip on his goblet tightened before he set it down with a sharp clink. “And the commanders? Have they devised a solution?”

Sevika hesitated, her silence answering for her. Finally, she said, “No. They’re holding the line, but we’re losing too many. We need to regroup and rethink our approach.”

Silco’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the chandelier above. Then, decisively, he pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll go to the gates myself. I need to see this for myself and consult with the commanders directly.”

You didn’t think—you simply acted. Rising from your seat as Silco and Sevika left the dining hall, you followed them into the dimly lit corridor. Your silk skirts swished as you hurried after them, your jeweled slippers clicking softly against the stone floor. You reached the shadows just in time to overhear Silco’s voice.

“I’ll leave at dawn with the first battalion,” he said. “The reports alone aren’t enough. If this is as dire as it seems, I need to see it myself. There’s no room for error.”

“Understood,” Sevika replied. “But it’s a risk. The journey to the walls is dangerous, especially with the creatures lurking along the roads.”

“I’ll take that risk,” Silco said firmly. “The kingdom’s stability depends on it. If we don’t act now, there won’t be a kingdom left to protect.”

“Father!” Your voice rang out before you could stop yourself. They turned, surprise flashing across Silco’s face before his expression hardened.

“This doesn’t concern you,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind.

“It concerns me when you’re talking about putting yourself in danger,” you countered, stepping closer. “You can’t just leave. What if something happens to you?”

Silco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t up for debate, child. I need to go. I won’t make the same mistakes as before by sitting idle.”

Your chest tightened, and the memory of your mother’s final words hit you like a blade. “The last time someone told me they’d come back, they didn’t,” you said, your voice breaking. “She promised me, and she never came home. How can you ask me to watch you walk out that same door and pretend it’s fine?”

Silco’s expression softened, though the steel in his resolve remained. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his mismatched eyes meeting yours. “I understand your fear,” he said quietly. “But I have a duty to this kingdom—and to you. If I don’t go, the threat will only grow worse. You’re stronger than you think, and I’ll return. I promise.”

Before you could respond, Sevika stepped forward, her presence grounding the moment. “He’s right,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Your father’s not reckless. He’ll have me and the best knights in the kingdom with him. You don’t need to worry.”

Her words, though meant to reassure, did little to ease the ache in your chest. You looked between them, fighting the tears welling in your eyes. Finally, you nodded, though the knot of unease remained.

As they turned to leave, you stood alone in the corridor, your hands clenched at your sides. The weight of their footsteps faded, leaving only the faint flicker of torchlight and the hollow echo of your thoughts.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of hurried footsteps and quiet murmurs just beyond your door. The servants were already at work, preparing for your father’s departure. Their shuffling echoed in the hallway as they polished the portraits, hung banners in the kingdom’s colors, and arranged the grand send-off for the king. A knot formed in your chest as the realization settled—he was really leaving.

When your maids entered, they didn’t need to speak to know you were already awake. They moved with gentle precision, draping you in a gown of deep crimson, black, and silver. The silk hugged your frame, the silver embroidery catching the faint morning light. Your hair was styled intricately, each strand woven into a braid that they adorned with silver pins shaped like roses. They murmured compliments, but you barely heard them, your thoughts elsewhere.

As soon as they were done, you hurried to the throne room, your stomach twisting with each step. When you entered, the sight of your father nearly stole your breath.

Silco stood at the base of his throne, dressed in armor that seemed more fitting for a king from a storybook than the man you’d grown up with. The polished silver breastplate bore the royal crest, its sharp lines gleaming under the golden light of the chandeliers. A long crimson cape hung from his shoulders, draping elegantly to the floor. At his side rested a sword with a gilded hilt, its weight a reminder of the battle he was about to face.

You didn’t speak at first, your throat tight with the effort to hold yourself together. But when he saw you, his expression softened. For just a moment, the weight of his responsibility lifted, and he looked at you not as a king but as a father.

You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a fierce embrace. He stiffened, surprised, before his arms came around you, holding you as tightly as you held him. His armor was cold against your cheek, but you didn’t care.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “be safe. I love you, Father.”

His grip tightened, his hand brushing the back of your head. “I love you too,” he said, his voice low and filled with something you rarely heard—uncertainty. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his mismatched eyes searching your face. “You’ve grown so much,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Every time I look at you, I see your mother. Her strength, her heart… I hope you know how proud I am of you.”

Your throat burned as tears welled in your eyes. “Then don’t go,” you pleaded softly, your voice breaking. “Please, Father. I can’t lose you, too. I can’t…”

He cupped your face with one hand, his calloused thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “I have to, my love,” he said, his voice steady despite the sorrow in his eyes. “This kingdom needs me. And more than that, it needs you. You’re stronger than you think—you always have been.”

His words were meant to reassure you, but they only made the ache in your chest worse. “Promise me,” you whispered. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was lingering, full of the unspoken things he couldn’t bring himself to say. “You’ll see me again before you know it.”

You nodded, though the doubt remained, and reluctantly let him go. As he stepped back, you noticed Sevika standing near the doorway, watching the exchange silently.

You crossed the room to her, your steps hesitant but determined. She straightened when you approached, her expression unreadable.

“I need you to promise me,” you said, your voice firmer now, though your heart still raced. “Promise me you’ll bring him back safe.”

Sevika’s brow furrowed slightly, her usual coldness faltering for a moment. “I promise,” she said simply, her tone calm and even.

You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer until you could see the faint scar on her cheek. “No, Sevika. I’m being serious. I know you just see me as some spoiled princess, but I’m not. He’s all I have. Promise me for real.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced briefly at your hand as it reached for hers. The warmth of your touch seemed to catch her off guard. For a moment, something flickered in her expression—something unspoken.

“I’ll protect him with my life, your highness,” Sevika said, her voice quieter this time. “He’ll come back. You have my word.”

You held her gaze for a long moment, searching for any sign of insincerity. But there was none. Finally, you let her hand go, your heart still heavy but steadied by her promise. As she turned to join your father, you watched them walk away, the ache in your chest growing with each step they took.

For now, all you could do was trust—and wait.

Days turned into weeks, each one heavier than the last as you anxiously awaited your father’s return. The castle felt hollow in his absence, the echo of his authoritative voice replaced by an unnerving silence that no amount of bustling servants or lively courtiers could fill. You tried to busy yourself with your routine, but nothing seemed to dull the ache in your chest.

Mel did her best to distract you, her endless ideas for entertainment failing to ease your worry. She often led you to the gardens, coaxing you to admire the blooming roses or walk among the neat hedgerows. She’d chatter about trivial things—her mother’s letters, the latest gossip among the ladies-in-waiting, or the prospect of an upcoming festival—but her words felt distant, like a hum in the background.

On some days, she’d take you to the nearby lake, where you’d lounge by a small boat anchored at the shore. The gentle lapping of the water against the wood, the songs of birds in the trees, and even Mel’s attempts to make you laugh with exaggerated tales of court drama couldn’t pull you from your thoughts. You were miserable.

The anxiety seeped into your nights, turning them restless. You woke more often than not in cold sweats, the remnants of nightmares clinging to you like a suffocating shroud. Dreams of your father not returning—or worse—haunted your sleep, leaving you too afraid to close your eyes again. You’d toss and turn, clutching the heavy blankets as though they could shield you from your fears.

It wasn’t long before you could no longer bear being alone at night. Mel, ever loyal, started sharing your bed, her presence offering a sliver of comfort. She’d hold your hand or hum softly, her voice lulling you into uneasy sleep. But even with her there, the nights felt unbearably long, and the ache in your chest only grew.

You missed your father. His commanding presence, his sharp words that were always tinged with an undercurrent of affection. No matter how stern he could be, he was your anchor, and his absence left you adrift.

And, though you hated to admit it, you missed Sevika too. Her presence lingered in your mind like a ghost. Even though her words were often clipped and dismissive, there had been something in the way she spoke to you that lit a fire within you. A rare spark of interest, a momentary pause that felt like a flicker of attention just for you.

Her aloofness only made her more enigmatic, her sharp gaze and blunt demeanor stirring feelings that you didn’t quite understand. You replayed your interactions with her over and over in your mind, from the sarcastic comments to the way she’d adjust your posture during archery. It wasn’t much, but to you, it was enough.

It was foolish to feel this way, you told yourself. She was the head knight, loyal to your father and bound by duty. She likely thought of you as nothing more than the king’s spoiled daughter, another responsibility on her long list of obligations.

And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Each day that passed felt heavier than the last, the weight of your longing for both your father and Sevika pressing down on you. You clung to the hope that their return would bring relief, but until then, you were left to endure the suffocating stillness of the castle and the ache that refused to fade.

Mel, ever persistent in her attempts to lift your spirits, decided that simply resting by the lake was no longer enough. She wanted to give you a moment of true peace, something that might soothe the restlessness in your soul. With a few words to the castle staff, she arranged for a servant to row one of the small boats onto the still waters of the lake.

When the boat was ready, she guided you down to the shore. The late afternoon sun bathed the lake in a soft, golden glow, and the air was filled with the gentle hum of dragonflies and the occasional splash of fish breaking the surface. The sight was tranquil, almost idyllic, but your heart was still heavy.

Mel helped you onto the boat, her steady hand ensuring you didn’t slip on the polished wooden planks. You settled onto the cushioned seat, and as the boat pushed off from the shore, the rhythmic sound of the oars dipping into the water began to lull you into a state of calm.

You leaned against the edge of the boat, resting your head on your folded arm. The water was cool beneath your fingertips as you let your hand trail lazily through it, brushing against the occasional lily pad that floated by. The gentle sway of the boat and the soft rippling of the water were almost hypnotic. For the first time in weeks, you felt a fleeting sense of tranquility.

“If my father and Sevika come back…” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy on your tongue, like a confession you hadn’t intended to make. You glanced at your reflection in the water, your face distorted by the ripples. “I’ll actually obey him... and I’ll confess to Sevika about my feelings for her.”

The admission hung in the air, a vulnerable truth you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself before.

Mel, sitting beside you, turned to look at you. Her usual sharp wit and playful banter were absent as she took in the sincerity of your words. After a moment, she smiled softly, a flicker of warmth and understanding in her expression.

“We’ll see about that, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of skepticism.

You turned your head slightly to glance at her, catching the faint curve of her lips and the knowing glint in her eye. She didn’t press you further, didn’t tease or pry as she usually might. Instead, she simply leaned back in her seat, allowing you the space to lose yourself in your thoughts.

As the boat glided across the lake, the silence between you was comfortable. Mel’s presence was steady, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t entirely alone in your longing or your fears.

For now, you could allow yourself to hope.

The following week arrived quietly, marked by the same monotony that had filled the days since your father left. You were seated by your vanity, your servant brushing your hair in slow, careful strokes. The rhythmic tug of the bristles on your scalp was almost lulling, but your mind was elsewhere.

Then, a sound shattered the quiet—faint but unmistakable. The trumpets of the king’s arrival.

Your heart leaped in your chest as you sat up straight, the brush slipping from your servant’s hand. “Your Highness?” they asked, startled.

But you didn’t answer. Without hesitation, you jumped to your feet and ran to your balcony, the cool morning air rushing to greet you as you flung open the doors. The grand stone entrance of the castle stretched below you, and there he was—your father, dismounting his horse in a flurry of movement.

As though sensing your presence, his gaze lifted to meet yours. His face softened instantly, a warm smile spreading across his features. He lifted a hand and waved to you, and you couldn’t stop the answering grin that broke across your face.

“Father!” you called out, your voice carrying down to him.

Without a second thought, you spun around and hurried back into your chambers, your bare feet sliding slightly on the polished floors as you moved. You quickly grabbed your slippers, slipping them on clumsily.

“Your Highness, you’re still in your sleepwear—” your servant began, her voice tinged with concern as she reached for you.

“I don’t care!” you called over your shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Your heart raced as you darted through the halls, the familiar corridors blurring past you in your excitement. The heavy stone walls seemed brighter, the tapestries more colorful, as if the castle itself had come alive with his return. The sound of your footsteps echoed off the marble staircase as you descended, nearly stumbling in your haste.

When you finally reached the entrance, your father was just stepping down from his horse, his gloved hands steady as he handed the reins to a nearby stable hand. His cloak billowed slightly in the breeze, his regal presence commanding the attention of everyone around him.

“Father!” you called again, your voice breaking slightly from your breathless sprint.

He turned toward you, his expression shifting from one of composure to pure, unrestrained joy. The moment his eyes met yours, his arms opened wide, and you didn’t hesitate for a second. You closed the distance between you, throwing yourself into his embrace.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. His grip was firm, steady, and warm, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“It feels like I’m seeing an angel,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.

You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and faint traces of ink from his correspondence. “I know... me too,” you replied, your voice muffled but no less sincere.

Silco finally pulled back from the embrace, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked you over, his sharp eyes softening with affection. “Have you been well, my daughter?” he asked, his voice steady yet tinged with concern.

You nodded, though you hesitated before answering. “Yes, Father. I’ve kept up with my studies and my training... though I missed you terribly,” you admitted, your voice faltering slightly at the end.

His expression softened further, and he cupped your cheek with a gloved hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I missed you as well. It was far too long to be away from my only child.”

As he spoke, you noticed the weight of exhaustion in his features—the faint lines of weariness etched into his face and the slight droop of his shoulders. Yet even so, there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he looked at you.

He stepped back, his posture straightening as he addressed not just you but the attendants and soldiers gathering around. His voice carried, commanding attention with its authority.

“My soldiers and I have returned victorious,” he announced, his tone filled with the subtle pride of a ruler who demanded respect but did not flaunt his power unnecessarily. “And such a triumph deserves celebration.”

Your heart skipped slightly at his words, and you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips.

Silco continued, his gaze sweeping over the gathered servants and knights. “A feast will be held tonight in the Great Hall. Let it be a night of joy and gratitude for our success and the safety of our kingdom.”

The attendants and soldiers murmured their approval, the quiet hum of excitement rippling through the crowd.

He turned back to you, his expression softer once again. “And you, my child, will be at my side as the kingdom celebrates.”

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else,” you replied, your voice steady despite the excitement bubbling within you.

“Good,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But first, you’ll need to prepare. I expect you to look every bit the queen you are destined to be. I trust Mel will see to it?”

You nodded quickly. “She will, Father. I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

“Good,” Silco repeated, placing a hand on your shoulder briefly before turning to his steward to give further instructions about the preparations.

As the crowd began to disperse, Sevika stepped forward, her ever-stoic presence now standing close behind your father. Her sharp eyes glanced over you briefly before she addressed Silco. “I’ll ensure the knights are ready for the evening, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone curt and professional.

Silco nodded in approval, but before Sevika could leave, his gaze shifted back to you. “Sevika, see that my daughter gets back to her chambers safely. She shouldn’t be running through the halls like that again.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sevika replied without hesitation.

Your father gave you one last affectionate glance before turning back to his advisors, leaving you standing there with Sevika.

“You heard him,” Sevika said gruffly, her tone laced with the usual edge of authority. “Let’s get you back to your chambers. Can’t have you causing another scene.”

You rolled your eyes slightly but complied, following her as she led the way back into the castle. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort knowing she was there, her towering presence a reminder of both your safety and... something else you weren’t quite ready to admit.

As you and Sevika made your way back through the dimly lit halls of the castle, the cool stone beneath your feet and the drafty corridors sent a shiver down your spine. Without a word, Sevika unclasped her cloak and draped it around your shoulders, the heavy fabric engulfing you in warmth. Her movements were brisk and efficient, as if she had done this a hundred times before, yet the gesture left your cheeks warm in a way that had nothing to do with the cloak itself.

“Thank you,” you murmured, clutching the edges of the cloak tightly around yourself. The faint scent of leather and smoke lingered on the fabric, unmistakably hers.

Sevika gave a short nod, her gaze fixed ahead as the two of you continued walking. The rhythmic clink of her armor filled the silence, but your mind was elsewhere. You kept stealing glances at her, your heart thudding harder with each one. You wanted to speak, to finally confess the feelings you had held onto for so long. The words were right there, resting on the tip of your tongue.

But before you could summon the courage to open your mouth, Sevika’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady.

“Don’t run out in your nightgown again,” she said gruffly, not bothering to glance your way. “It’s quite transparent in the right lighting.”

You froze mid-step, your eyes widening as her words sank in. The warmth in your cheeks flared into a full blush, spreading down your neck as you quickly looked away, your hands instinctively tugging the cloak tighter around your body.

“I-I wasn’t thinking,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to see my father.”

Sevika finally glanced at you, her sharp eyes briefly scanning your flustered expression before she huffed a soft, almost amused sigh. “That much was obvious.”

You felt your stomach twist with embarrassment, but there was something in her tone—a faint trace of humor, perhaps—that eased the sting of her bluntness.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” you muttered, your gaze fixed firmly on the stone floor as you walked.

“See that you do,” Sevika replied, her voice returning to its usual sternness. “You may be the king’s daughter, but you’re not above common sense.”

Her words stung, but there was no malice in them, only the no-nonsense practicality that defined her. Still, your heart ached as you realized how far away your confession still felt. How could you possibly tell someone like her—so composed, so seemingly unimpressed by you—what you truly felt?

As you neared your chambers, the weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest. For now, you would settle for the warmth of her cloak and the fleeting moments of attention she gave you, even if they were laced with sternness.

The feast was a spectacle of grandeur. With Mel and a team of diligent servants, you were adorned in your finest jewels, your hair styled to perfection, and the shimmering gown hugging your frame like it was made of starlight itself. The dress—delicate and intricate, like spun silver—glittered under the candlelight, catching every flicker and transforming it into magic. The translucent layers of the fabric hugged your silhouette, leaving just enough to the imagination while maintaining an air of regality.

Mel circled you with a satisfied smile, tucking one final lock of hair into place. “If Sevika doesn’t fall for you tonight,” she teased, “she must be made of stone.”

You swatted her arm lightly but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your lips. With a deep breath, you stepped out into the party, your heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor as you entered the grand ballroom.

The hall was alive with music, laughter, and clinking glasses. The party was far too large for the dining hall, so the grand ballroom served as the perfect venue. Guests danced beneath glittering chandeliers, their movements synchronized to the lively tunes of the string quartet. You and your ladies joined in, swirling through the dance floor in familiar patterns, your laughter mixing with the music.

You’d had two glasses of wine by then—an indulgence you rarely allowed yourself—and it left you feeling warm and light. Your inhibitions melted away, and you let yourself be swept up in the joy of the moment.

That was when you saw her.

Sevika stood near the edge of the ballroom, her tall frame unmistakable even among the most decorated soldiers. Her usual rugged attire was transformed, enhanced with gold detailing that caught the light in flashes of brilliance. Her armor had been polished to a mirror finish, and though her expression remained stoic, she looked breathtakingly regal.

Your gaze lingered, and Mel—ever observant—caught on immediately. She grabbed your wrist, pulling you from the dancing circle with a knowing grin. “Now’s your chance,” she whispered.

You hesitated, your heart racing. “I don’t know, Mel.”

“What if you don’t see her again? What if she leaves for a mission and never comes back?”

The weight of her words struck you, and you turned to look at Sevika again. She was speaking with someone, her stern profile illuminated by the golden light of the chandeliers. Mel was right—you couldn’t waste this moment.

With a deep breath, you smoothed your gown and made your way toward her, weaving through the crowd. When you reached her, you placed a tentative hand on her arm, causing her to turn and look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I speak to you somewhere privately?” you asked softly.

Sevika’s brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded, following you out of the ballroom and into one of the quieter hallways.

The hallway felt like it was closing in around you, the flickering sconces casting fleeting light on Sevika’s armor. Her stern expression was unreadable, and her imposing frame seemed even more unyielding in the dim corridor. Still, you gathered every ounce of courage you could muster. This was your moment, and you couldn’t let it slip away, no matter how heavy the weight of her cold demeanor felt.

You hesitated, the stem of the wine glass trembling in your grip as you tried to muster the courage to speak. She didn’t move, her arms crossed over her chest, waiting. Always waiting, as if the weight of your words was little more than an inconvenience.

"Well?" she said flatly, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "If you dragged me away from the ball for this, I suggest you make it quick."

“I’ve held this in for too long,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter, that you don’t matter.”

Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing, her silence more oppressive than any words could be. You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I love you, Sevika,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your confession. “I’ve loved you for years.”

For a moment, her mask slipped. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—surprise, uncertainty, maybe even longing. It was so fleeting you almost doubted you’d seen it at all. But it gave you the courage to close the distance between you, to take her face in your hands.

She didn’t pull away. Her body tensed under your touch, but she remained rooted in place, her breathing shallow and uneven. It was enough. You leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was as much a plea as it was a confession.

For a fleeting moment, she kissed you back. Her lips were hesitant, but warm, and you felt a spark—something you’d only ever dreamed of. It was like the world had stopped, and in that heartbeat, everything else ceased to matter.

But just as quickly, it was over. Sevika’s hands came up, gripping your wrists firmly as she pulled away. The space between you felt like a chasm, and the cold air rushed in where her warmth had been.

“No.” Her voice was sharp, almost a growl. She let go of your wrists, and you staggered back, staring at her in disbelief.

“Sevika—” you started, your voice cracking with desperation.

“Don’t,” she snapped, cutting you off. Her expression was hard, her eyes blazing with something you couldn’t place—anger, regret, pain. “This… whatever this is, it can’t happen. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why?” you demanded, tears welling in your eyes. “Why are you doing this? I know you feel something for me. I know you do!”

“Because you’re nothing but a spoiled little girl who doesn’t understand the world she lives in,” Sevika snapped, her tone cold and biting. Her eyes bored into yours, unyielding and merciless. “You think this is some fairy tale where you confess your feelings, and everything falls into place. But that’s not how life works. I serve your father. I protect this kingdom. That is my duty. Not indulging the childish fantasies of a princess who doesn’t know the meaning of sacrifice.”

Her words were a dagger, each one sinking deeper into your chest. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The tears you’d been fighting spilled over, streaking your cheeks as you stared at her, your heart breaking with every second that passed.

Sevika’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the cold mask she always wore. She took a step back, putting more distance between you. “Forget this ever happened,” she said, her voice flat. “And stop chasing after things that aren’t meant for you.”

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heavy boots echoing down the corridor. You stood there, frozen, as the weight of her rejection pressed down on you. The air felt colder now, the once-grand gown that adorned you suddenly feeling suffocating, like a cage meant to keep you trapped in a world where you could never truly be free.

You slid down the wall, your knees giving out beneath you as you buried your face in your hands. The sound of the ballroom felt even further away now, and for the first time in your life, you wished you could disappear completely.

Mel stepped into the hall, her steps echoing through the quiet corridors of the castle. She froze when she saw you, sitting on the cold stone floor, your body trembling with sobs. The sight of you, usually so composed, crumbled in such a vulnerable state, sent a pang of concern through her chest. “(Y/N)?” she called out softly, her voice filled with both worry and warmth.

Between the heavy breaths, you managed to choke out the words, “She said she didn’t love me back… she called me childish,” your voice breaking as the weight of the rejection hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog.

Mel's heart ached at the sound of your pain. Without a second thought, she hurried to your side, kneeling down beside you. Her hands gently touched your arms, offering a quiet comfort as she whispered, “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”

With surprising strength, Mel helped you to your feet, supporting your wobbly legs as you struggled to calm the tears that refused to stop. Her presence was grounding, a steady reassurance in the storm of your emotions. As the two of you walked slowly back toward your chambers, Mel kept a steady hand on your back, guiding you through the castle’s labyrinth of halls.

The comforting silence between you both was interrupted only by the occasional sniffle from you, as you struggled to regain some composure. Mel didn’t say anything more. She knew there was nothing to say—at least not yet. She just wanted to get you somewhere safe, where you could break down if you needed to, without the prying eyes of the castle around you.

taglist: @tinycherry0 @thesecondhandwoman @abbysleftbicepp @artfairyyyyy @bunninel @furrytaesss @savedforlaterr @veladeangl @5t4r1i9ht @athena-winters13 (😝) @inlovewithsevikaandambessa

[natsmagi]

honestly the more i hear about engstars and its TLs the more i absolutely dread the inevitable release of poltergeist and what may ensue from it, bc if if the translators themselves are already invalidating arashis identity then i Really Truly do not want to see how theyll translate natsume and tsumugis microaggressions/transphobia towards her. esp since ive noticed a rise in people being comfortably transphobic towards her, and i REALLY do not wish to see natsume and tsumugi being stupid fucking morons be used as evidence to discredit her

and i think this is all the more reason why its VERY IMPORTANT for engstars to DIRECTLY ACKNOWLEDGE arashi and her gender. bc sometimes characters are STUPID and RUDE and APATHETIC. enstars is a story with NUANCED and FLAWED CHARACTERS, and when a character is being a fucking asshole youre meant to PROVE THEM WRONG. but they dont even acknowledge arashi as a girl themselves. so, if you do use engstars, please keep pressuring them bc omfg this is so bad and i can only see it getting worse

[hello-universe-lovers]

I have successfully indoctrinated my friend @cyberfox123 into Slay the Princess and I sat through a run where she can't stop stabbing the princess!! At least she's doing the Narrator's task(?). Welcome to the community, cyber, and I hope you enjoy your stay!

More traditional doodles under...no cut, there are no spoilers here!

[itsjaywalkers]

didn't say anything bc i was at work til 5pm and then i had to go grocery shopping + make dinner but i've been listening to short n sweet on loop all day and i'm fucking obsessed SABRINA DID IT AGAIN!!!!

[nihilean]

gabriel wears my ootd day 4: covid arc episode 2 where i played slay the princess again and cried and had a mental breakdown

[stop-the-play]

> Those are just words. I'm not even the one who decided I should say them. In fact, I'm not just going to ignore them—I'm going to drop the monologue entirely. And leave the path. That's also important.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Wh—can you even do that?

...

VOICE OF THE MEEK: It looks like he can.

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: I hope, when this is all over, dying turns out to be worth it.

...

VOICE OF THE HERO: I think you've made your point, mate. You can pick the monologue back up again.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Yeah. It's starting to feel... kind of empty. And, I mean, I don't really get how your whole monologuing thing works, but... can't you just ignore what you're 'supposed' to say and narrate however you want?

VOICE OF THE HERO: At least bother to describe the woods as you trudge off into them.

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: Do you think he's paying any attention to us?

...

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Hey. Can you say something? Anything? Monologue, nonmonologue...

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: Gloat about our impending death...

VOICE OF THE HERO: Are you... can you even hear us?

...

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: You haven't off and died on us, have you?

...

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Oh, god, I think he's actually dead.

VOICE OF THE HERO: No, that can't be right. He can't have died. I mean, we're still. Breathing. Are we?

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: Are we?

...

VOICE OF THE HERO: He actually is dead.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: W-what do we do now? Can we. Do something about him?

VOICE OF THE HERO: And how are we still here, if he's dead?

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: I'm more surprised he managed to die before the end of the world.

...

VOICE OF THE HERO: What are we supposed to do? He's the one who understood all of this.

VOICE OF THE HERO: More than any of us, at least.

...

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Do we just wait here forever?

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: No, that can't be right. There has to be a way out of this.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Like what? I'm open to any options you have, but I don't think we're able to do anything like this!

VOICE OF THE HERO: We could die.

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED AND VOICE OF THE MEEK: WHAT?

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: Have you forgotten that dying is bad?

VOICE OF THE MEEK: I think that's the opposite of what we want to do right now!

VOICE OF THE HERO: Look. Hear me out, okay? It seems to me that right now, our options are hanging around a frozen corpse waiting for the world to end, or quitting early.

VOICE OF THE HERO: We die either way. It's just a matter of how long we have to stay here, doing nothing, before we do.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: You have a point...

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: No, there must be a way out of this. We have to be able to avoid dying somehow.

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: Can one of us take over?

VOICE OF THE HERO: Maybe if we had a living body. But I don't think it'll work any more.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: ...

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: ...

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: ...Fine. If you think you can get us to die, go right ahead.

VOICE OF THE HERO: All right. I'll do my best.

VOICE OF THE HERO: ...

VOICE OF THE HERO: You... die. You stop existing. The world ends.

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: What are you trying to do?

VOICE OF THE HERO: I'm trying to narrate. Like he would. Maybe that's what makes things happen in this place. I don't know, do any of you have a better idea?

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Try being more... descriptive? When he was narrating, he wasn't this... blunt.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Okay. Here goes.

VOICE OF THE HERO: As you trudge off into the woods, you find experience... fades. And the further you go, the more your awareness wanes, until you are no longer able to move your legs, to pull air into your lungs.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Eventually, you are left standing still in the middle of the forest, with no one around to watch you die.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Do we not count as 'someone?'

VOICE OF THE OBSESSED: Ssh.

VOICE OF THE HERO: The world ends. Everything goes dark, and you die.

(This is the end.)

[thedeadthree]

🌞 CYTHIA -`. the witcher • ♟️KAROLINA -`. btaj

🕯️ NYNEVE -`. vtm • 🐦‍⬛ IRINA (pre embrace) -`. vtm

🪩 ANAIS -`. vtm: night road • 🪞ILEANA -`. vtmb

🧚 ALKYONE -`. coral island • 🌪️ VAERMINA -`. bg3

TAGGED BY @crownrots, @corvosattano, @risingsh0t, @cloudofbutterflies92, @kyber-infinitygems, and @carlosoliveiraa to make a few of the dearies using this dollmaker !!!!! tyty!!

TAGGING: @seluneite, @jendoe, @sunites, @rosenfey, @lavampira, @leviiackrman, @unholymilf, @gwynbleidd, @queennymeria, @aezyrraeshh, @marazhaiaezyrraesh, @full---ofstarlight, @nightbloodbix, @jackiesarch, @florbelles, @marivenah, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @yharnams, @shadowglens, @anoras, @celticwoman, @pinkfey, @shellibisshe, @faerune, @alltoowelltv, @adelaidedrubman, @grapecaseschoices, @sussoro, @griffin-wood, @bloodofvalyria, @dickytwister, @loriane-elmuerto, @timdownie, @theviridianbunny, @riikugan, @vvanessaives, @raphaelsboudoir, @ryomenscurse, and you!!

[butch-bakugo]

Its not a shock to me that most "transandrophobia doesn't exist" people are trans women, mostly white trans women. They have a very specific image of what a trans man looks like and it's only two categories: the hyper fem, tits out, make up, twink trans man who doesn't pass nor try to and the hyper masculine, bearded, t'd up, all the surgeries, big buff trans man who you could never clock. They genuinely think every "transandrophobia truther" is lieing about not getting privileges they don't fucking have.

They genuinely believe every trans man passes and therefore we get male privilege and they get backed up by trans men who do pass and think a cis man making rape jokes with them and asking about their lift set is male privilege. Lemme shatter the illusion because as much as you like to scream about some wide spread privilege that doesn't exist, most trans people, in general, do not pass. This is especially true for trans men due to the hyperfocus society puts on feminine features. I have never met a fully passing trans man and I've met over a hundred personally irl. never. I know they exist but the fact y'all think we, en masse, get male privilege is factually just fucking wrong.

Trans men are not more acceptable or palatable to transphobes. Trans men are not more likely to pass. Trans men in mass do not get male privilege by virtue of our lack of passing and our medical history. Most trans men are still affected by the gender pay gap and thus can not afford surgeries.

You do not acknowledge the existence of non-passing trans men, only uphold the voices of trans men who pass and have the money for surgeries (a small percentage) then wonder why trans men laugh in your face when you make claims about male privilege we do not experience.

We are more likely to be conversionally raped than you. We are more like to be forcibly detransioned than you. We are more likely to experience domestic violence than you. We are more likely to experience hate crimes than you.

Trans men's hyper visibility in online spaces dose not transfer to real life visibility. You are more likely to see white cis gay men and white trans women in any media or ever mentioned than even white cis lesbians or white trans men. Your rhetoric is the origin of the "theyfab" myth. Our issues are invisible to you cause you do not care about other trans people besides yourself and other transfems. Everyone and their trans mother knows about transmysogny and the issues you personally face yet you expect trans men to be silent about their issues and feel like they should be silent because they are men. Trans men are more likely to experience litterally all forms of violence over trans women in every single avenue of violence that exists; religious, sexual, domestic, familial, etc. We are more likely to be stopped and abused before we socially transtion than anyone else due to hyper vigilance of society over afabs. You can scream all you'd like about how we only bring up our sex/the gender we are often raised as when it's convenient but you always ignore those often traumatizing experiences when it's convenient for you.

Many Transmascs and trans men had a traumatizing upbringing because society views us as "bad women" and " bad women" get treated so much worse and by many more angles than "bad men" specifically because we were forcibly assigned as women. You take advantage of a lack of nuance in the community by trying to group us with cis men specifically because you group yourself with cis women. News flash, neither of us and our experiences should be grouped with ANY cis group because we do not have cisgendered experiences.

I seriously think you think you are the most oppressed group in the trans community and you are not, not by a long shot. You are not the most oppressed group in the transgender community and that's a statistical fact. The most oppressed group, by far, are two spirits and cultural genders by virtue of them being inherently indigenous and indigenous people being the most oppressed race of people in the community regardless of the location they are indigenous to.

You are literally taking advantage of the things that were drilled into transmascs at a young age to be seen and not heard and to be quiet and let others talk, that they are lesser than everyone. Everyday there's a new story in the community of a cis man or a trans woman getting a trans man/masc pregnant to hurt them or force them off t or to detransion, this is not a fucking accident. You are not men, no one ever said you were, but you sure love to silence them like they do.

I'm not quiet, you do not intimately know our issues the same way we do not intimately know yours, You don't get to tell us what we do and don't experience and the fact you'd rather cry wolf and suspiciously call us "bitches" than hear us out, tells me everything i need to know. That alt right to trans woman pipeline you said you escaped? Yeah, you didn't. Ur just an alt right trans woman, Try Again.

[madebysimblr]

Can you see me? I'm waiting outside my door on Orchard st In this memory

Just for tonight I'm gonna give up this fight 'cause The love that we had wasn't all bad Let myself dream of the things that I say to you when I'm asleep I'll see you on Orchard st

[dawnbirdwhistle]

God's Favourite Princess in a dress ♛ (Baldur's Gate 3)

I wasn't bothered enough to fix that circle behind her lmao

Also her hands... I struggled a bit there, but that is not the point- the point being, I will try to romance her in playthrough 7th 🙈 unless... Astarion 😔

More rant under cut lol

Like when that inevitably happens what's a poor bi girl to do 😓

Initial plan was to get with Minthara but like... until then? xd

Either way, hope you like the piece!

(and also 7th playthrough as in. I finished 2, in Act 3 with 1 and the others are... vibing)

[jhyoos]

Of Roses And Steel

chapter three : stay in your place

knight sevika x princess reader

mentions : royalty au, medieval au, romance, vi was mentioned for a reason, jealous sevika, annoying mel, light smut, silco being a ally, drama filled, vi being the 3 fs: flirty, funny and fuckable, another long chapter

notes: wrote this right after chapter two 🤭

↲ previous chapter | next chapter ↳

You woke up to the soft, warm sensation of your cub’s tongue gently licking your face. Groaning slightly, you opened your eyes to find his fluffy form hovering over you, his bright eyes watching you expectantly. “Good morning,” you murmured, reaching up to scratch his head. “I really need to name you,” you added with a small laugh. He leaned into your touch before curling up against your chest, a soft purr rumbling from him as his warmth enveloped you.

Last night lingered in your mind like a fever dream—vivid and inescapable. You replayed every moment over and over, wondering what might have happened if things had escalated further, or if Sevika had uttered those three words you so desperately longed to hear: I love you. Closing your eyes again, you tried to let sleep claim you once more, but your thoughts betrayed you, pulling you deeper into the haze of unanswered questions.

Your moment of reprieve was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a voice announcing the arrival of your maids, perfectly punctual as always. With a tired sigh, you sat up in bed and called out, “Come in…”

The door opened, and a flurry of activity followed as your maids bustled in. “Can we bring my pet his breakfast?” you asked, gesturing toward the cub, who now sprawled lazily on the bed. “Just bring a few cuts of raw meat—any kind will do.” One maid nodded and quickly exited the room, while the others began attending to your morning routine.

As you stood, the maids gently guided you toward the vanity. They worked quickly, their hands deftly brushing through your unraveled hair and preparing you for the day ahead. One of them hesitated, her gaze catching on the faint bite mark adorning your neck. “Are you all right, my lady?” she asked carefully, her tone laced with genuine concern.

You touched the spot instinctively, your cheeks warming as you hastily replied, “Oh, yes, I’m fine. He likes to bite a lot,” referring to the cub as you fabricated the excuse. The maid raised an eyebrow ever so slightly but said nothing, though you could sense her curiosity lingering.

Finally, the maids brought out the gown for the day—a breathtaking creation that sparkled like the morning dew. The dress was a masterpiece of intricate detail, its halter neckline plunging gracefully to highlight the delicate curves of your frame. The bodice was adorned with elaborate silver filigree, curling like vines in an enchanted forest, with an ornate key-like centerpiece resting elegantly between your collarbones.

The skirt of the gown cascaded like a shimmering waterfall, its sheer fabric embroidered with glistening beads and sequins that caught the light with every movement. Tiny floral appliqués adorned the train, adding a touch of whimsy to the regal elegance of the design. As the maids secured the gown in place, its ethereal beauty made you feel like you had stepped out of a dream.

Standing before the mirror, you couldn’t help but admire the way the dress hugged your figure, the light playing off its embellishments and giving you an otherworldly glow. The maids adjusted the final details, their hands brushing against the delicate fabric as they ensured every part of the ensemble was perfect.

As you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, a look of confusion crossed your face. This wasn’t the kind of gown you usually wore—ornate and dazzling, designed to captivate. You turned toward your maids, your brows furrowed. “What’s the occasion?” you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

One of the maids stepped forward with a gentle smile. “The kingdom of Piltover is coming, my lady. The king wanted you to shine,” she explained, her tone full of reverence.

You blinked, taking in her words and glancing back at your reflection. The gown’s intricate silver detailing and sparkling embellishments made you look radiant, almost celestial. It was a deliberate choice, meant to make an impression.

Satisfied with their work, the maids gathered their things and began to file out of the room, their movements quiet and efficient. One, however, returned shortly after, carrying a small bowl filled with cuts of raw meat. She placed it carefully in front of your cub, who immediately perked up at the sight of his breakfast.

“Thank you,” you said softly, offering her a kind smile. The maid bowed low before retreating, leaving you alone with your cub, who was now happily devouring his meal.

You watched him for a moment, his small frame hunched over the bowl, his soft fur glowing faintly in the morning light. As you observed him, a thought struck you—a name, simple yet fitting.

“Eros,” you said aloud, your lips curving into a smile. The cub paused briefly, his ears twitching at the sound of your voice, before returning to his meal. “That will be your name,” you decided, feeling a sense of satisfaction at finally giving him an identity.

The name lingered in the air as you watched him eat, your mind momentarily at ease despite the day’s looming responsibilities.

A sharp knock echoed through your chambers, drawing your attention to the door. You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your gaze. “Come in,” you called out, your tone neutral. The door creaked open, and standing there was Mel.

You let out a quiet sigh, rolling your eyes at the sight of her. Whatever she wanted, it couldn’t possibly improve your mood.

“I apologize for last night,” she said, her tone soft but hesitant. Her eyes roamed over your gown before she added, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“I always do,” you replied coolly, adjusting the fabric of your gown. Your words were sharp and dismissive, but there was a faint air of satisfaction at her acknowledgment. “And I forgive you—only for Sevika’s sake. And so I don’t have to go through explaining to my father why I would have to send you back to Noxus.”

Mel’s lips pressed into a thin line before she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Follow me out of my chambers, please,” you instructed, turning toward the door without another glance at her. “We have to meet the King of Piltover.”

Mel nodded, silently falling into step behind you as you strode toward the door. The two guards stationed there straightened at your approach, their armor gleaming in the light. They fell into formation as you exited, shadowing your every step.

Pausing briefly in the hallway, you glanced at one of the servants waiting nearby. “Please have someone check on my cub every hour and ensure he’s all right,” you instructed.

“Yes, ma’am,” the servant said with a respectful bow before hurrying off.

With that, you straightened your posture, your chin lifted with regal grace. The day was far from over, and there was much to do—but as always, you intended to handle it with the poise expected of you. With Mel trailing behind and your guards flanking you, you made your way toward the grand hall where the King of Piltover awaited.

The grand doors to the throne room creaked open, revealing a scene of splendor and familiarity. King Vander sat on a gilded chair at the head of the room, his presence commanding yet warm. Around him were his sons and daughters, their faces lighting up as they caught sight of you. These were friends you’d grown up with, companions from childhood whose bonds you still cherished despite the years apart.

Your eyes swept across the room, noting that your father was not yet present. Instead, Sevika’s unmistakable figure caught your attention. She was lounging in a chair near the corner, her legs man-spread with that air of casual dominance she always exuded. Her relaxed posture made her look untouchable, her sharp gaze scanning the room before briefly landing on you.

You didn’t linger on her for long, but it seemed Mel had. Before you could speak, Mel veered off toward Sevika, her footsteps quick and purposeful. You noticed the way her lips curled into a smile as she approached, but you chose not to acknowledge them. Instead, you continued further into the room, your attention shifting when a hand gently rested on your arm.

You turned your head, finding yourself face to face with Vi. Her short pink hair was tousled as always, and her confident smile brought an instant wave of nostalgia.

“Good morning,” you said, offering her a warm nod. “I didn’t see you at the tournament.”

Vi grinned, a little sheepishly, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I was out taking care of some things,” she replied before her expression softened. “Gosh, you look even more beautiful than you did all those years ago.”

Her words made your lips curl into a soft smile. “I would say the same about you,” you said, meeting her gaze. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other—since we were children.”

Vi chuckled softly, her hand on your arm lingering before she moved it to your cheek. Her touch was light, almost hesitant, and her thumb brushed against your skin gently. “I’m glad to see you again,” she said, her voice lower now, more intimate.

Her closeness and sincerity brought a flutter of warmth to your chest, but before you could respond, the sound of a loud laugh from one of Vander’s sons broke the moment, drawing both your attentions back to the room. You smiled, grateful for the distraction as you slipped away from Vi’s touch, though her presence remained close, a reminder of the bonds that never truly faded with time.

Your father entered the room with a warm smile, his face lighting up as he spotted Vander. The two men shared a hearty laugh before pulling each other into a bear hug, the kind that only old friends exchanged.

"My brother," Silco greeted, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

“It’s been far too long,” Vander replied, his tone just as affectionate.

“I’ve arranged an outdoor gathering in the garden,” Silco said, gesturing toward the sprawling grounds outside. “You’ll have to see it—it’s stunning this time of year. And, well, I thought it might spare you all from the misery of the cold you have back in Piltover.”

“Sounds perfect,” Vander agreed with a grin.

The garden was breathtaking, illuminated by soft golden string lights that cast a warm glow against the night sky. Tables adorned with delicate floral arrangements and elegant snacks were set up, inviting guests to indulge. The scent of fresh blossoms mingled with the crisp evening air, creating a serene yet lively atmosphere.

You wandered through the garden, a drink in your hand, observing the festivities around you. Laughter and chatter filled the air as nobles and their families mingled, their faces alight with joy. Even Mel and Sevika, who were deep in conversation by the fountain, seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Deciding to keep your distance from your ladies-in-waiting, you gravitated toward quieter corners of the party. Noblewomen and gentlemen approached you now and then, offering compliments and pleasantries that you returned with practiced politeness. But as the evening wore on, the constant interactions began to drain you.

Eventually, you slipped away, finding solace in the hallway just outside the garden. The dim lighting and gentle hum of the distant festivities provided a peaceful reprieve. You leaned against the flower-covered wall, letting out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes.

Your moment of solitude was interrupted by the familiar sound of boots on the stone path. Opening your eyes, you saw Vi approaching, a bottle of alcohol in hand. Her pink hair was slightly tousled, and her grin was as mischievous as ever.

“What’s this for?” you asked, eyeing the bottle she held out to you.

“To drink, beautiful,” Vi replied with a playful smirk, popping the bottle open. She poured a generous amount into your glass before taking a swig straight from the bottle herself.

You raised the glass to your lips, taking a cautious sip. The sharp taste made your face scrunch in displeasure, earning a hearty laugh from Vi. She was clearly used to drinking—her lack of reaction to the alcohol proved it.

“You’re not funny,” you said, though a small smile tugged at your lips as her laughter continued.

An hour later, the bottle was empty, and the two of you were sitting by the lake, far from the noise of the party. The gentle lapping of water against the shore served as the perfect backdrop for your conversation. You both laughed as you reminisced about childhood memories, the weight of adulthood momentarily lifted.

“I still remember the time we kissed,” Vi said suddenly, her tone softer now.

You smiled at the memory, the warmth of it spreading through you. “I remember it too. You were my first kiss…and my first girl kiss,” you admitted with a shy laugh.

Vi leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’d love to kiss you again.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, but you smiled, meeting her gaze. “I’d love to kiss you too.”

She cupped your cheek gently, her touch warm and steady as she leaned in. Her lips met yours in a passionate kiss that sent a thrill through you. You responded in kind, placing a hand on her shoulder as the kiss deepened.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but smiles lingered on your faces. “Gods, how I’ve missed you,” Vi murmured, her voice full of emotion.

Before you could respond, she leaned in again, this time pushing you gently onto the grass. Her kisses grew more fervent, and you found yourself lost in the moment, your hands tangling in her hair.

The moment shattered as the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the air. You and Vi pulled away from each other quickly, your heart sinking as you looked up to see Sevika standing there. Her expression was unreadable, her sharp eyes flicking between you and Vi before she finally spoke.

“Your father is asking for you,” she said, her voice calm but firm as her gaze settled on you.

“Right…” you mumbled, quickly standing and brushing off your dress to compose yourself. “I’ll see you later, Vi.”

Vi nodded, her mischievous grin softening as she looked up at you. “Later, beautiful,” she said, her voice low and playful.

As you walked away, Sevika fell into step behind you. The tension between you was palpable, and it didn’t take long before Sevika’s voice broke the silence.

“Is this your way of moving on? Kissing some random girl?” she said, her tone laced with irritation.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face her with a glare. “Vi isn’t just some random girl. She was my first kiss, and she’s a princess. If I wanted to, I could marry her,” you said firmly. “And what business is it of yours? You seemed perfectly content with Mel today.”

Sevika scoffed, crossing her arms. “Mel and I were just talking. Don’t turn this on me.”

Your jaw tightened, but you said nothing more. The weight of her words hung heavily between you as the two of you reached the garden party.

Silco spotted you almost immediately, his piercing gaze softening as he extended a hand to you. You stepped forward, taking it with a small smile. “What’s wrong, Father?” you asked.

“Nothing, my dear,” he replied, his tone warm and reassuring. “I just wanted to see you. How are you enjoying the party? Have you had a chance to speak with Vi and Powder yet?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, keeping your voice measured.

Silco studied you for a moment before asking, “And what do you think of Vi? Would she make a good suitor for you?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his question, though you tried to keep your expression neutral. “Oh… so that’s what this is about,” you said softly, glancing away. “I don’t know, Father. I’ve talked to her, but I haven’t seen her in years. I’d need time to get to know her again.”

Silco nodded thoughtfully, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Of course, that’s only fair. But you have all night to spend with her before she has to leave.”

“That’s not enough time,” you said honestly. “But… I could write to her after, if that would make you happy.”

Silco’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Of course, my child. That would be a fine start.”

You nodded, your mind still swirling with thoughts of Vi, Sevika, and the complex feelings tangled up between them. The night was far from over, but you could already feel its weight pressing on you.

The pounding in your head and the haze of alcohol clouding your thoughts made the decision impossible to face right now. You needed to return to your chambers and clear your mind. Without the usual accompaniment of guards, you made your way back alone, your steps unsteady but purposeful.

When you entered your room, the soft glow of candlelight illuminated a maid tending to Eros, who lay fast asleep in his bed. The cub was on his back, paws in the air, his round belly exposed—a clear sign he’d been well-fed and was completely content. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Thank you,” you murmured to the maid. She nodded, gathered her things, and left quietly, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the rhythmic sound of Eros’s gentle breathing.

You sat down at your vanity, resting your head in your hands as you tried to sober up, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. The quiet didn’t last long, though, as your door suddenly creaked open.

“Gods, what’s with people barging into my r—” you began, lifting your head, but your words caught in your throat when you saw Sevika standing in the doorway.

Her gaze was intense, her shoulders squared as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Did you do that on purpose? Trying to make me jealous?” she asked, her voice low and cutting straight to the point.

You stood up, gripping the back of your chair as you stared at her in frustration and confusion. “What?” you asked, your tone sharp.

But before you could say more, Sevika crossed the space between you in a heartbeat, her hand sliding to the back of your neck as she pulled you into a fierce, passionate kiss. Her lips were commanding, her touch electric, and you couldn’t help but melt into the moment. Your hands instinctively pressed against her chest as you kissed her back, your body responding to her closeness.

Sevika’s grip on you didn’t waver as she lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of your vanity. Her hands moved to your dress, lifting it slightly, but before things could go any further, you reached out and stopped her.

“Sevika…you’re confusing me,” you said, breathless, your hands trembling slightly as you met her gaze.

She let out a deep sigh, pulling back and settling into the chair in front of you. She leaned back, her legs spread wide, her elbows resting on her knees. Her usual confidence seemed to falter as she looked up at you. “I know…I’m confused myself,” she admitted, her voice quieter now.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “My father asked me to consider marrying Vi,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know what to do. I can’t marry someone I don’t know if I love yet…but I know I love you, Sevika.”

Her jaw tightened at your words, her brows furrowing as she leaned forward slightly. “Then why were you kissing Vi if you love me?” she asked, her tone edged with hurt.

Your chest tightened at the question, guilt flashing across your face. “You were with Mel,” you replied defensively. “You still are. She asked, and I accepted it. What was I supposed to do?”

Sevika sighed, leaning back and placing a hand on your thigh. Her touch was warm, grounding, but her words cut deep. “You know me and you can’t get married,” she said, her tone steady but filled with a painful truth. “I belong to you, to your father, to this kingdom. I can’t promise I’ll always be here. What happens when I leave for good? What happens when I don’t come back? You’re too fragile…too weak to handle that.”

Her words struck you like a blow, but you said nothing, knowing deep down she was right. The thought of her leaving—of never returning—was unbearable.

“So,” she continued, her voice softening just slightly, “you should marry Vi. She seems to like you, even if she is…a drunk.”

“She’s not a drunk,” you said quickly, frowning. “She’s just…way too carefree.”

“Right…” Sevika muttered, pushing herself to her feet. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, her expression unreadable. “From now on, I won’t bother you. I apologize for barging in and kissing you like that.”

Before you could say anything, before you could process her words, Sevika turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind her. The room felt emptier without her, the silence heavy as you sat there, torn between the choices laid before you and the ache in your chest Sevika’s absence left behind.

The next morning began like any other. The maids were already bustling around your chambers, preparing your dress and accessories as you sat quietly, letting them do their work. Eros, your beloved cub, had his breakfast first as always, his tiny paws clutching his food with delight. You smiled softly at the sight, though it didn’t fully reach your eyes. Once he was done, you picked him up in your arms. His soft fur and warm presence were a small comfort as you made your way to the throne room.

You were informed earlier that Vander and his children had departed at dawn to begin their long journey back. You were a little sad about Vi going so early. Not getting to say goodbye. The memories of last night were still raw, and it was something you couldn’t get out of your head.

The guards opened the doors to the throne room, revealing its usual lively atmosphere. Voices carried across the grand hall as nobles and servants alike mingled, sharing news and gossip. You walked with poise, nodding politely at those who greeted you, until you reached your ladies-in-waiting.

“Good morning,” you said to them, settling into your lounge chair with Eros nestled comfortably on your lap. His soft purring helped ease the tension in your chest as you listened to the chatter around you.

The gossip was lively today, full of intrigue and speculation about recent guests and political alliances. You smiled faintly, losing yourself in the distraction until something—or other someone—caught your attention.

Mel.

She strode into the room with a radiant smile, her golden complexion glowing as she approached your group. You stiffened, your grip tightening slightly on Eros as her eyes met yours briefly before turning to the others.

“Good morning, ladies,” Mel said cheerfully. Then, without hesitation, she dropped the bombshell. “Unfortunately, I am no longer a lady-in-waiting.”

There was a collective gasp, followed by murmurs of curiosity and confusion.

“Why?” one of the ladies asked, her voice laced with intrigue.

Mel’s smile widened as she held up her hand, revealing a sparkling ring. “Because I am now engaged to my beloved Sevika!”

The room erupted into cheers and congratulations, the ladies fawning over her and admiring the ring. Mel basked in their attention, her joy radiating in every gesture and word. But all you could do was sit there, frozen.

Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach as her words echoed in your mind. Engaged to Sevika. The air felt heavy, and the edges of your vision blurred as the pain settled in your chest.

Mel’s happiness was unbearable to witness, her grin brighter than the sun as she recounted the details of Sevika’s proposal. It was too much. Your legs moved on their own as you stood abruptly, Eros startled by the sudden motion.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the commotion. You didn’t wait for a response. You turned on your heel and left the throne room as quickly as you could, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

She had Sevika.

Your feet carried you to the nearest empty room, and once inside, you slammed the door shut and leaned against it, sliding down until you sat on the cold floor. The tears came fast, streaming down your cheeks as sobs wracked your body.

It felt as though your heart had been ripped out and torn apart piece by piece. The weight of it all crushed you—Sevika’s rejection and now Mel’s victory. You buried your face in your hands, the pain too much to bear.

When you finally mustered the strength to leave the room, the sight before you stopped you in your tracks. Standing in the hallway was your father, flanked by two guards. His sharp, observant eyes softened immediately when he saw the tears streaking your face.

“Angel,” he said gently, his voice filled with concern as he stepped closer. He reached out and used his thumb to wipe the tears still falling down your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, your heart aching from all the emotions you were trying to suppress. “I’m just… stressed,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though it cracked slightly. “Everything that’s happened this past week… I just had to let it out.” It was only a half-truth, but it was all you could manage.

Silco’s expression remained tender as he opened his arms. “Come here,” he murmured.

You didn’t hesitate, stepping into his embrace. The moment his arms wrapped around you, his hand cradling the back of your head, the dam broke again. You sobbed against his chest, your shoulders shaking as the week’s events overwhelmed you all over again.

“We’ll find who put that bear head in your room,” he said softly, his voice low and comforting as his hand stroked your hair. “I promise you, Angel. They’ll pay for it.”

His words, though meant to reassure you, only made you cry harder. The mention of the bear head—the harrowing reminder of the fear and violation you had felt—added another layer to your emotional turmoil.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs, clutching the fabric of his coat as if it were the only thing grounding you.

“It’s okay to cry,” he said, his voice unwavering as he held you tighter. “You don’t have to apologize.”

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace soothed you, though the tears didn’t stop. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his strength, feeling like a child again in the protective arms of your father.

You pulled away from your father’s embrace, sniffling softly as you tried to compose yourself. “I’m okay now,” you said, offering him a small, forced smile.

Silco cupped your face with both hands, his sharp gaze meeting yours with an intensity that made you feel both safe and vulnerable. “Emotions are normal, Angel. Tears are meant to be shed,” he said firmly, his voice low but steady. “You’ll be a strong Queen. I taught you well.”

His words, laced with pride, soothed you. He let go of your face and adjusted his coat before turning on his heel, walking down the hall with his usual commanding presence. You stood there for a moment, watching him disappear, letting his words settle in your chest before taking a deep breath.

Turning back toward the throne room, you braced yourself and pushed open the doors. The lively buzz of conversation filled the air again, but it was quickly drowned out by the sound of Mel’s voice as she intercepted you, her lips pulled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I hope you’ll be happy for us, your highness,” she said in a sickly sweet tone. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you not allowing it.”

Your eyes narrowed instantly at her emphasis on the word "bear," and your stomach twisted. “You put the bear head in my room?” you asked sharply, keeping your voice low but laced with venom.

Mel tilted her head, her expression smug. “Took you long enough to notice,” she replied, feigning innocence while the mocking tone in her voice was undeniable.

You glared at her, letting your gaze sweep her up and down with barely veiled contempt. “I find it amusing,” you started, your tone calm but cutting, “that you’re trying to use Sevika against me. Especially since we’ve already had a very fun night together just a night ago.”

Mel’s smile faltered for a split second, her confidence momentarily shaken.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice but letting every word drip with malice. “Enjoy your little broken marriage while it lasts. Because soon enough, you’ll be back in Noxus with your mother, who’ll no doubt be disappointed in your whorish ways. And as for Sevika?” You smiled, leaning in slightly. “She’ll stay here. Because Sevika puts Zaun, and this kingdom, before someone like you. Take that to heart before you go flashing that ring around like it means something.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, you brushed past her, your head held high as you returned to your ladies. They quickly quieted as you approached, sensing the tension radiating off you.

“From now on,” you said firmly, turning to face them, “do not speak to Mel. She’s not one of us anymore.”

They nodded in unison, not daring to question you. You settled back into your seat with Eros on your lap, focusing on the gossip of your ladies once again, doing your best to ignore the knot of satisfaction and lingering anger that twisted in your chest.

Sevika soon entered the throne room, her tall figure commanding attention even in the lively atmosphere. Her sharp eyes immediately found Mel sitting alone in a corner, away from the ladies, who were now avoiding her. Sevika’s gaze shifted, landing on you. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you felt your stomach churn at the intensity of her expression.

She approached you with measured steps, bowing slightly as she stopped before you. “May I speak to you, your highness?” she asked, her tone formal and respectful, mindful of the public setting.

You hesitated but rose from your chair, gently placing Eros back on the couch before nodding. “Very well,” you replied curtly, following her as she led you out of the throne room.

The heavy doors closed behind you, but Sevika didn’t stop there. Her hand lightly grasped your arm as she guided you down the hall and into the nearby garden. Once she was sure no one else was around, she finally turned to face you.

“You need to let me explain,” she said, her voice low and urgent.

You crossed your arms, keeping your expression neutral. “You marrying Mel is none of my business,” you replied, your tone cold.

Her jaw clenched, and she ran a hand through her short hair in frustration. “I don’t want to marry her,” she admitted, her voice laced with bitterness. “Look at me—I’m not the marriage type of woman.”

“Then why are you doing it?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

She sighed, her broad shoulders slumping slightly. “Because I was pushed into it,” she said. “Mel came up to your father in front of the court this morning. She asked for his blessing, and he granted it right there. I had no choice but to put a damn ring on her finger.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “I could’ve told you myself that she’s crazy. She’s the one who hung that dead bear in my room,” you said, your voice rising slightly in frustration.

Sevika’s eyes widened slightly, the information clearly catching her off guard. “Mel did that?” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

“Yes,” you confirmed firmly. “You figure this out, Sevika. Her mother is an important ally, and if you mess this up, it won’t end well—for either of us,” you added, your tone softening slightly but still carrying a sharp edge.

Sevika bit her lip, her usual confidence visibly wavering as she stared at the ground. For the first time, you saw her look vulnerable, conflicted in a way that felt foreign for someone so composed.

After a long pause, she straightened her posture and gave a short, resigned nod. “Fine,” she said curtly before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving you alone in the quiet garden.

You stood there, the weight of her vulnerability and the tension between you both lingering in the air. The garden felt colder without her presence, but you refused to let it show as you took a deep breath, straightened your dress, and prepared to return to the throne room.

taglist (my shaylas ♡): @tinycherry0 @thesecondhandwoman @abbysleftbicepp @artfairyyyyy @bunninel @furrytaesss @savedforlaterr @veladeangl @5t4r1i9ht @imheadintothemountains @adora-moonshine @sevikasrightboob @80saturn @littlerainsprite @runawaybaby3 @rhian88 @athena-winters13

[rotisseries]

me pulling up tiktok to listen to the leaked clip of fantastic by king princess every 20 minutes cause I can't stop thinking about caitvi [RADIO STATIC]

[payasita]

I just want to say you were my first introduction to slay the princess so I partially blame you for my current hyperfixation/j thank you I am deranged over eldritch horror princess and Just Some Guy eldritch horror bird (they are everything to me)

OH I will ask: who is your favourite princess/voice and why? Mine is voice of the contrarian bc he just like me fr, and thorn bc 🫶🫶

WOO glad you're into it! Definitely up there with my favorite games of all time

god I'm gonna have to give you a list. this was a much much longer answer because I have several paragraphs to say for Many Of My Favorites but I'll spare this blog the vomit for now until I can structure parts of it better

fave princesses: Witch and all its routes, Specter and all its routes, Nightmare and all its routes

Fave voices: Stubborn, Skeptic, Smitten. special shout-out to Opportunist for consistently having the best dialogue in the game tho, he sucks and I love him so much

Favorite routes: Razor, Thorn, Damsel

LEGITIMATELY it's so hard to pick but for the sake of giving Some explanation, the razor has to be my favorite for how it exists as the purest subversion of both the story the game is telling (which is itself a subversion of classic monsterslaying fairy tales) and it sort of has to get kind of meta, but it leans into it SO joyously. you as the protagonist being constantly split because the story plot twisted itself so fucking hard that it just. Broke Everything

and the result is absurd and horrifying and slips away from any kind of growth or cogency until both protagonists are stripped completely bare, and it's weird and it's hilarious and no one is having a good time except for the very AGENT of shifting perspectives, no longer constrained by any world or singular force that matters!

and also. How could I not pick the route that gave us The Look™.

[thecollectionsof]

oh ho ho!!!! i actually finished a fic !!!! and i'm proud of how it turned out, i think this world is fun and i have so many thoughts about it

Gigi Goode, daughter of Viscount Goode, has always dreamed about the kiss that would make color bloom across her skin. It used to be a faceless person, just something to project her current childhood crushes onto. And then she met Crystal Methyd, her lady's maid, and suddenly her dream soulmate takes a different form. Not that she could ever tell her that, of course, especially since they're such close friends. Still, she lets herself dream. Maybe one day a kiss from her soulmate (that she really should stop imagining as Crystal) will change her life completely, and her aimless fantasies of love, companionship, and a beautiful mosaic of color across her skin will become reality. But until then, she'll keep dreaming.