#you couldve had such grandiose hair

[daemon-in-my-head]

Definitely not fooling around with tyrants and undercut refs hahaha I'd never do that nooooooo I would never try to imagine at least 1 year younger Gort sparking a diff hairstyle to deal w this wonderful week by fixating naaaah fucking never

This was a mistake

[mysterystarz]

"You look beautiful," Keiji whispered as she sat next to him under the mandap. She could only manage a small smile and a nod as the priest began chanting, trying to calm her nerves. At least he's attractive, she thought. Ever since she got the news of her betrothal to the prince of Gwalior, her stomach had been in a tizzy and she had been prone to fainting spells, too shocked at the prospect of her parents giving her away to eat. She had a small inkling of how her parents could send their daughter off to a completely unknown place simply to secure an alliance, but she supposed that it was the impending threat of the British taking their land and their dignity. However, that didn't settle her quietly building homesickness of the rocky beaches, beautiful horses, and fragrant flowers of Pune, her home. Gwalior was unsafe. Gwalior was dangerous.

Her nervous gaze awkwardly met Keiji's intense one in a dance throughout the wedding ceremony, and it certainly didn't abate now that they sat across each other at her parents' long dining table through course after course of delectable (yet strangely bland) food. Her nervousness must have penetrated the wall between Keiji and herself, because she felt a strange warmth enveloping her hand as she poked at her rasmalai. A quiet shriek escaped her painted lips and she gave Keiji—who nudged a small piece of parchment into her hands—a strange look. She looked down into her lap, unfurling the small roll of parchment to see a message that sent her eyes upward once more. To her shock, Keiji had already disappeard, having excused himself with a whisper to his own parents. She excused herself as well—to the bemusement of her elders—before hurrying out of the room.

Quietly nodding at the guards stationed at every fifth column (security had to be tight these days with both the British and the Mughals invading their matrabhoomi), she rushed towards her favorite spot in the palace gardens. How Keiji found out, she didn't know, but it probably had to do with giggling and all too eager maids charmed by silk sherwanis and a silver tongue. She internally rolled her eyes at that thought as she finally arrived at the grandiose fountain situated in the center of the gardens. The gurgling water accompanied with the slight hum of bees imported from Europe and hibiscus brought from China made for a perfect reading spot. Of course, Keiji was to be found with his hands making ripples in the pristine water, his face sporting a calm and collected gaze (as a prince should have). A small green monster formed inside her as she saw the oh-so-glorious prince contaminating her water, but she shoved her wrath down, opting for a serene smile. "Why is it that you called me?" Keiji didn't answer. Of course. His focus was on the beautiful fountain filled with floating lamps and flower petals—decorations for the wedding—and how gorgeous his hand looked against the scene. Not that the prince wasn't gorgeous—Nova could admit that much. His dreamy pools of royal blue finally met hers, reflecting the candlelight of the palace, holding nothing more than respect.

"I wanted a chance to talk to you before you're shipped away from your home with a husband I assume you didn't want, unless I'm taking the wrong meaning from your expressions towards me." Her shocked face, perfectly illuminated by the fountain's glow, revealed her answer. While she could admit that she had married an attractive and well-mannered admi, he was still unfamiliar, just like Gwalior.

Gathering her senses back, her gaze turned sharp and unfeeling, not wanting to reveal any more to him. "As they say, people have a fear of the unknown, and for good reason too." Keiji chuckled at that, and Nova felt a bit vindicated. He was treating her like a child!

"You never cease to amaze me, princess. Your wit is as endearing as the sindhoor in your hair." Her face heated at that statement as she glared at him.

"What are you playing at?"

The prince stood up at that, walking towards her and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "If you hadn't noticed yet, wife, we are married. I know that this...arrangement...isn't ideal for you, but I want to make this work. You will be future queen of Gwalior, and we both know that we will have too much responsibility to have animosity between us. I hope you will keep that in mind as we move forward." Keiji brazenly brushed his lips against her dusted cheeks, pulling away with a small smile. "Good night, wife. I'll see you tomorrow." He walked away after sending her an intense look, leaving her with the sounds of the fountain and the fragrance of the hibiscus.

AND THAT CONCLUDES MY GIFT TO YOU FOR SO MANY HEADCANONS! i might make a multi-chapter fic outta this bc it was too fun to write-

HCKWKDKWKDKWNDDN I RANTED ABOUT THIS IN YOUR INBOX AND COULDVE SWORN I POSTED IT BUT THIS IS SO COOL?!?! LIKE THIS IS SUCH A CONCEPT

i would never hate keiji EVER but this is an interesting twist on the typical royal au and is also giving me a lot of tigers curse vibes (read those books they are very lovely) DJWMDMWND ANJALI THANK YOU 💕💕💕🥺🥺✨✨💕💕

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

The Rose Prince (Pt.1)

-------------------------

There were two things Roman trusted in the twisted puppet show that was his life, two things he knew werent a fabricated stage of wired and strings. His brother Remus, and his own gut.

Remus was trustworthy because he was unpredictable, everything else in the castle was a code that could be cracked, a machine that could be exploited and forced into malfunction if dealt with properly.

Remus, however, was human. You could ask him for something and maybe he would give it to you, or spit in your face, the possibilities were endless. And that's what Roman liked about it all, about the uncertainty, the changes and shifts, it meant that things wouldnt stay dull and stale and boring.

Whereas if Remus hadnt been there, all Roman would be left with was the painfully obvious whirring of cogs and gears, the blinking red lights of cameras that broadcasted the prince's every move for all the world to see, stale conversations with machines who, despite Remus' best efforts, still seemed to slip up when referring to him correctly.

This was life for the Kingdom of Roses and Ice, princes and princesses were not to be raised around other people, for fear it might corrupt them. They were to be sent to a separate castle of strings and wires, and taught there how to be the perfect stone-faced statues, the picture of grace and nobility. The perfect bride and wife, or groom and husband, and the perfect king and ruler. The process lasted until they were eighteen, where upon its end they would be married off to the husband or wife of their parents choosing, or, should they fail in the task of perfection, risk being trapped under lock and gear forever.

Roman often wondered just how many of the castle's enchanted servants were once like him, regal, special, important. He wondered what they might have done to warrant such a curse, and if he'd already done the same thing.

But he worried no more for himself than he did for Remus, Remus was uncontrollable, a wild card if there ever had been and wild cards were not tolerated in the seat of the throne room.

He wondered if there had ever been royalty who tried to keep their children in the main castle, were they sent to die here to? Perhaps forced to bare another curse? This was Roman's least favorite topic to ponder, because then he started wondering if his parents had ever tried to rebel, whether they had tried to keep their children within the true castle, safe from the curse that would befall them should they fail in the task of perfection.

"Romaaaannnnnnn," Remus' voice drawled from nearby, but Roman couldn't quite focus on it.

"Hey snot-face I'm talking to you," and then he felt a sharp tap on the back of the head.

"Ow! Remus!" Roman whirled around in his seat, holding the spot which Remus had hit.

"You're thinking again, I was getting worried," Remus said with a laugh.

"Well what did you have to go and snap me out of it for!" Roman replied angrily.

"Because when you start thinking you usually reach the topic of mom and mom and then you start crying and I really dont think crying is a good way to spend our last day in this hellhole," Remus replied, Roman gave a start and rushed to the calendar.

And sure enough, there it was, June Fourth.

Remus could have gotten out two years earlier, but, in his words 'like hell I'm going to let Roman stay here by himself, you'll have to kill me first,'. Which did in fact not make Roman feel any better, but rather much worse, who knew what an open act of rebellion might mean.

"Well I guess I better get dressed then hm?" Roman said, almost whispering, as though he dared not believe it was truly time to leave, as though he thought they might stay in the false castle forever.

But soon enough they were standing on the steps of the true palace, a grandiose structure that looked as if it were made of snow and glass and ice. Roman smoothed down the hem of his skirt and straightened his back up as best he could, his binder felt tight around his chest, he wondered whether it was nerves or something else.

"You may enter the Palace of Frozen Rose," a voice said as the doors opened, Roman felt his stomach twisting like a worm on a hook. He looked up at Remus, who merely nodded as they walked inside.

If the outside was anything to marvel at, the inside was almost twice that. Statues of all sorts lined the walls, like larger than life music box dancers. The floors glistened with light reflected from the outside, creating a variety of colors across the floor.

But Roman couldnt focus on that now, he had to keep his head forward, poised on what was in front of him, gaze never lingering elsewhere, that was what made an obedient ruler.

"Good morning, Prince Roman, and Crown Prince Remus," Roman had to hold back a sigh of relief as his mother uttered the words. They'd passed, Remus was to be a a Crown Prince, the future king, and Roman was safe, all he had to do now was marry, and he'd be happy again.

"Good morning Queen Elizabeth and Queen Belladonna," Roman and Remus said in unison, Roman's voice carrying much louder than his brother's. Roman couldve sworn he saw the hint of a smile on his mothers' faces.

Almost as soon as the introductions began, the twins were shepherded to separate parts of the castle, no doubt to prepare themselves for the men selected by their mothers'.

Moments later Roman was dressed in a white sweater that hung off his shoulders, a red hoodie wrapped around his waist, skinny jeans, and white boots. Upon his face was glittering white eyeshadow and lipstick red as blood, and just like that he felt as though he'd never left the false castle, as though he was a puppet like those that had taken care of him for eighteen years. Of course,he didnt voice this, that wouldve been a foolish decision. So he did as told, walking down the hall, smiling and waving and watching as the ballroom inched closer and closer.

Roman felt the spotlight on himself as soon as he entered the room, like a bright sun meant just to reveal himself to the world.

"The Rose Prince has arrived to the court," Roman heard someone announce, the room went quiet, Roman tried desperately to find his brother, but could see nothing. He felt himself being pulled down the stairs, all eyes were on him, burning into his skin. He heard whispers, he knew they were about him.

Roman wasnt allowed on the dance floor for more than a minute or two, immediately being taken to the throne instead. Roman watched enviously as the other guests danced and partied as he was forced to sit and stare from a gilded silver throne.

"The Crown Prince of Thorns has arrived to the court," Roman looked up, and there was his brother, dressed in robes of jade and black, looking as though he'd very much like to bite the guards escorting him to his throne.

The party carried on as though no one seemed to realize the princes weren't joining in the festivities.

And one by one the guests began to leave, until there were exactly four men standing in front of the throne. Remus was beckoned to stand, and he did so, bowing slightly when he reached his full height.

The first man stepped forward, he was short, with light brown curls of hair that had shades of blue and pink flecked throughout. He had round-framed white glasses perched on his face, and his eyes were a contrast of white that faded to a shade of pink.

"Emile Picani, Prince of Orchards," said the voice that had announced Roman and Remus' arrival. Emile gave a slight bow and looked up at Remus as if expecting him to say something scornful. Remus merely smiled, Emile waited a few seconds before rushing to stand on one side of him.

The second boy was a slight bit taller than Emile, but nowhere near the height of Remus, with light brown skin and brown hair, his eyes were a deep shade of blue that made them seem almost black in color.

"Patton Boleyn, Prince of Gems and Jewels," the voice said, Patton rushed up to stand on the other side of Remus' throne. Roman was beginning to peice together what was going on.

He watched as the third man stepped forward, taller than almost everyone else in the room, with striking yellow eyes that stood out against his dark complexion and a black hat perched on his head, his face was covered in burns, yet it didnt not take away from his features, Roman could hardly keep his eyes off him.

"Janus Ryder, Crown Prince of Serpents," Janus approached Roman's throne, removed his hat, bowed, and placed a kiss on Roman's hand before going to stand next to his throne. Roman had to struggle not to blush furiously at the gesture.

The fourth and final man was dressed in vibrant midnight blue, with specks of white scattered throughout his dress like stars, and upon his face were round black glasses.

"Logan Sanders, Prince of Stars," the voice said, Logan gave a bow, crossing his legs as he did so, and took his place next to Roman's throne.

"After tomorrow, the Prince of Roses will be escorted to the kingdom of the Crown Prince of Serpents and Prince of Stars, the Prince of Orchards and Prince of Gems and Jewels will remain within the castle alongside the Crown Prince of Thorns," Roman felt faint, he'd only been there for a day and he was expected to leave soon after? And what of Remus? Were they never to see each other again?

But he kept a blank expression on his face as he and Remus repeating their instructions, the four other princes giving various reactions, the most common of which seemed to be worry.

Soon enough their suitors were taken from the room, and Roman and Remus were alone, until finally, they were allowed to their rooms.

And Roman screamed. Never before had he felt like this, confused, upset, trapped, in all the years he'd spent in that palace-shaped prison, he'd never felt as stuck as he was now. The only solace he could find was the walls of his room, where no creature except himself could hear. So he screamed, he screamed and cried and thrashed until he felt numb and limp and sick.

One day before he was to be married off to two men he'd never so much as looked at before.

One day before he would be separated from his brother, potentially forever.

One day before he became something worse than a puppet.

One day before he became a pawn in a game he was fully aware was being played.

Prince Roman did not dream that night, not even a nightmare. He simply slept, with fear and dread sinking into his stomach.

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