To love me is to suffer me.

björn watched her with feigned curiosity for a moment before turning his attention elsewhere. a large knife lay on the table next to his hand and he picked it up, tossing it and catching the blade easily in his hand. the handle was clearly carved with precision, a fine blade for a warrior. he tied the sheath for it to his waist and placed the knife inside before turning his attention back to her. he had no doubt that she was reluctant to do anything he said, and if he cared for her feelings he might reassure her that things may very well turn out how she had wished them. but he was not a giver of false hopes.

"do you believe that things will be done the way your father did them now that I have taken control?" he asked. björn did not ask it to insult her but purely as a question. "and these men that shall answer my calls, I find it hard to believe that they will do anything I say. they have not sworn loyalty to me." he pointed out, intense gaze resting upon her. "i will be honest, i have no interest in keep your father's council nor any deals he made with neighboring kingdoms and im sure none of them wish to do any business with a man like me."

a smile spread over his face at her question. not a smile of comfort but of mockery. "i dont see any reason for that. you are marrying into my family, you will serve my gods." he said it as if staying a simple fact, a small shrug given as well. "if your people wish to do any ceremony for you in relation to your gods then I can't stop them. it i will play not part in it." he took a few steps towards her until they were standing side by side. "its quite simple. if you and your people do as we say and dont try to rebel the you all will live long lives. you will have children and they will have children, you will have bountiful lives. if you dont then we have no problem eliminating everyone here and moving to the next kingdom."

#muse: helena van cleef #thread: helena x bjorn #i am so sorry i thought this was posted #<3

A man bound for war, Helena was sure of that.

The wedding was going to be the last nail in this coffin of conquest. Gently fiddling with her fingers, she thought of the men on her father’s council. Some would immediately spin the conquest into nothing more than a political coup, one that the people had long awaited. Her people, despite their love for her, bore no love for her father. Helena cringed at the mention of children. Not for lack of wanting them, but for the man that intended to give them to her. Was there ever going to be any genuine love toward them? Would Helena ever see them beyond their father?

“My father was no saint…I doubt that you will be able to do worse than he did.” Helena said. “Madness has a way of making mercy seem unfamiliar.” She said. Pushing those thoughts to the farther bits of her mind, Helena looked Bjorn in the eye. Had things been different, she would have considered his handsomeness as something more than a waste. “I will have my maids prepare your rooms…I gander that feasting must have exhausted your men.” She said, her tone ice cold. “As far as being wed…you must have more limitations to place.” Helena stated.

"Tell me...what should I expect?"

sxmthingwicked

Replies coming tonight peeps! :)

#ooc #psa

björn leaned against a nearby table, arms crossing over his chest as helena gave her warning on her father's council. councils had never truly made sense to him, not in the way her people governed anyway. sure the council he and his people answered to had similarities but at most they were vastly different. "i don't think i need to fear your council." he said simply as he rubbed his hand along his face. "if this is the same council that let your king rule then i doubt they do much to garner any type of fear from a man like me."

pushing himself off of the table björn walked calmly across the room, taking in the painting and trinkets that were left behind by the former king. he'd picked up a large dagger from nearby and examined it before speaking again. "i have no doubt the individuals on that council are not true men of war. scholars and scribes, men with ink stained hands that have never held a sword." he taunted with bitter reply.

at her acknowledgement of her people accepting their union he allowed that grin to return to his features. "i would not consider what your people endured under my men a war. wars are meant for both sides to have a chance at winning. i'd akin it to more of a slaughter." he said pridefully as he turned to look at the woman again.

"you need my word?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "my word only holds to those i deem equal to me, for my fellow kinsmen and their families, that is who my word holds to." he explained. "if my word is what you seek then i shall give it, but if your people do not accept this union i will not hesitate to kill what remains of your kingdom." he warned. "does that suffice?"

#muse: helena van cleef #thread: helena x bjorn #sorry its a bit short #<3

Had demons been real, Helena was sure that she was standing before one right now. It made her sick to watch Bjorn walk about the room, his bloodied hands touching things that were not his to touch. Her father was not a good man by any means and yet, she found herself protective of his things. In a way, they represented a kind man…a man that had once loved her and their people. Grief had no place in her heart at this moment, yet the prickling of tears at each memory that flashed before her eyes was soon becoming too much to bear. At his last words, Helena nodded, feeling the air thicken by the passing second.

“Councils hold supporters…” She began. “Any one of those lords willing to answer the call of your banner shall do so under their loyalty to my house.” Before madness had taken him, Darius had called certain houses and their lords to swear loyalty. Loyalty to him…loyalty to Helena. A bid to ensure her protection, she thought. “You may be able to turn them but some may not be so easily swayed…my lord.” Helena concluded, the title she uttered nearly mocking on her tongue. If they were going to be wed, there were small victories like this to be had. Moving toward the window, Helena looked down at the feast occurring, noting the men that danced and rough-housed as her servants scurried between bodies. It baffled her how she once thought that men like this would be able to help her.

"We do enjoy our traditions as a people...so tell me, my lord, shall we be wed in your ways? Or shall you play the diplomat and allow us to be wed under both our Gods?"

björn let her seethe, let her spit her venom, it would have been more surprising if she had remained silent once the door to his chambers had been shut behind her. he took another generous drink of his mead and said nothing, simply regarding her with stern eyes. setting down his mug he shot her a menacing glare before speaking. "i did as requested. i freed your people from a tyrant, usually those freed say a simple thank you." he taunted. it wasn't as though he was searching for thanks, nor is it like he would accept any thanks if it were given. vikings don't live on thanks, thanks does not allow them continue the way they live.

"i have no wish to surpass your father in cruelty, though that is a part of my trade." he said the last part in fondness, thinking back of the kingdoms and villages he has raided, all of the spoils he and his fellow warriors had accumulated from their wars. "if your people comply with the demands i set forth no one will die, it is that simple." björn regarded her like an adult regards a child annoying them, with impatience.

"you have an important role in all of this." he said, a dangerous smile spreading over his face. "a king needs a queen, and since your people already see you as a traitor you will have no problem playing into that role." he replied with a smirk.

#muse: helena van cleef #thread: helena x bjorn #they're gonna be messyyyyy

His words made Helena's blood run cold.

If there was need of a queen, there would be a need for an heir soon after. While as a culture they never cared for differences between men and women, Helena dreaded the thought of brining a child into a world like this...with a man like him. Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, Helena became acutely aware of the drumming festivities that went on outside. In another life, those festivities mean something far more joyful.

"The people are represented by me and my father's council...you have have me where you want me but the council shall never bend the knee to you." Helena spat, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. Her father's council men, all heads of their own great houses, had taken notice to his paranoia. Hells, some even supported a possible coup, not only for the people but to safe their own hides.

Helena's fingers moved to fiddle with her ring, a simple silver band engraved with her houses words. They seldom meant anything now, yet the woman found comfort in them. This...union that he proposed would save Helena from the sword and garner some favor back from her people.

"If this union comes to pass...you won't have to worry about my people. They would sooner accept a united front than risk a continuing war. " Helena said, her words clawing their way out of her throat. "It is foolish to ask this of you again...but if I am to be your Queen...I need your word." She said. For his own interest, Helena hoped that it would be convenient to keep. "My people are not to be harmed, they will accept...this once they see that I am at your side." she said. "Do I have your word?"

open to: m/f/nb

summary: y/m assisted björn (whether blackmailed or willingly i leave up to you) to overthrow y/m's father who is also the king. while björn had promised that y/m and their people would be free he lied and has now revealed to everyone that y/m assisted in the betrayal of the king by helping them.

test muse: björn ivarsson | viking | thirtytwo

the night had been filled with festivities as a new king took the thrown. a bountiful feast was spread across the table and their cups overflowed with mead, a proper celebration after a hard battle won. björn stood, holding his hand high above his head in an order of silence. when all eyes were on him he flashed a smile, lifting his goblet into the air. "skål! to our warriors slain in battle tonight, they feast with the allfather in valhalla, as we drink in their honor!" the room erupted into cheers as his fellow kinsmen continued in their celebrations with björn reclaiming his seat at the head of the table. he crooked his finger at the knight that stood to his right, one of the few that had surrendered after the murder of their king. "bring them to my chamber at the end of the evening." he ordered, finger pointing to y/m.

by the time björn had retreated to his room the celebrations were still going strong. he had no doubt they would continue on for the next few days. as he sipped more mead from his wooden mug he stared out of the window from his room. from below he could see the destruction that his kinsmen had left in their wake in taking the lower kingdom. no doubt the ordinary folk living there were now cowering in fear of the new rulers that occupied their former king's castle. the thought brought a smirk to his face. the hinges on the door to his room creaked beneath the weight of being moved as the night he had summoned before brought y/m into his room. from the looks of them it was obvious they were not happy with björn's declaration to all of their people that they had assisted in the overthrowing of the king. "what's the matter? not the happy ending you envision?" he asked with a wolfish grin.

#muse: helena van cleef #thread: helena x bjorn #hi! hope this is ok! :)

There was no love lost with the death of her father.

The man she loved, the man she called father had passed with her mother, all those years ago. The madness had taken King Darius Van Cleef slowly, his very being slipping away before his physicians could even notice. Helena, his only child and heir, was left to witness as the man she admired turned into a tyrant. Even as he laid dying, Helena found herself wondering if grief was really capable of such...such meaningless cruelty.

Alas...it had all reached a point where King Darius was ordering villagers to be executed under suspicions of espionage. He ordered brutal interrogations and even gorier executions. Soon enough, the people grew tired and whispers of rebellion began to circulate among the court. Helena had gone to Bjorn for help...though in hind sight, it was foolish of Helena to think that he would simply leave it at that. Bjorn's chambers resembled her own in many ways, walls adorned with the art work of her kingdom. Helena's face was set in a stern stare, her heart ablaze.

"You and I had a deal..." Helena seethed, taking a step closer toward Bjorn. "You were supposed to help me set this kingdom free...not take it for yourself." Helena stated, her voice cold. Again, she was well aware that it was foolish to expect such a thing. Yet, a part of her still believed that a man's word was his bond...something that her father taught her once...a long time ago. "Now you sit upon my father's throne...tell me, will you usher in a new age or will you perhaps surpass him in his cruelty?" The woman seethed, her dark eyes set upon the man before her.

Her people didn't take kindly to traitors, regardless of their reasons. If she was to be put to the sword, she would go knowing that in her heart, her family's dynasty perished trying to right a wrong.

"And what, pray tell, shall you do with me?"

reyna was used to looks that were less than kind. she'd been a servant for a long as she could remember. people either looked at her with distaste or not at all. still, she remained in her post, eyes drifting around the table of men before returning back on the ground. it always interested her that decisions that affected her people were always made by a bunch of well-dressed yelling men.

she listened quietly, considering the options. though she was not well-versed in the ongoings of other houses, it was easy to see that this caused a lot of distress for these men. at her name, she turned and nodded her head. there were a few ladies maids and kitchen staff she could speak to. perhaps she could offer to take some chores off their hands?

reyna paused in her exit. he wanted to speak with her? what more could she possibly offer him? reyna tilted her head to the side. "forgive me, my lord. but...if someone wanted your head...do you think this attempt would be the end of it? you have either offended someone or pose a large enough threat to have some sort of bounty on your head." a pause. "another attempt may not be soon, lest the culprits have to regroup and plan. but...i do think it will happen again." she pauses, thinking it over for a moment. "i can be your food tester. should they resort to poison instead."

#muse: rodrick masbeth #thread: richter x reyna #sorry for the delay

Again, Rodrick fought back a chuckle.

It was…oddly endearing to have her so willing to take on a position that would definitely risk her life as well. “No, dear Reyna, I fear you are far too useful to be my simple food taster.” Rodrick said. Rodrick could not lie and say that the idea of being poisoned scared him but he needed Reyna elsewhere. By his side, where he could also keep her safe. Her thwarting an assassination attempt will surely not sit well with whoever ordered that assassination. “Alas…there will be another attempt, be sure of that. But at least we know now that someone out there wishes me dead.” He said. “It is no secret to me, Reyna, that there are those in Ravenswood that do not see me fit for the role that I occupy.” Rodrick breathed. It was as unfortunate as it sounds, because of his condition.

A man in constant pain cannot rule surely.

Rodrick has been dealing with this ever since he was a child. He knew how to handle the pain and yet that effort seemed to be oh so overlooked. He knew that there were lose that wished Richter to ascend the title of lord, but his cousin was never one for ruling. “This development with House Godwin has the entire council in an uproar…I just hope that they are not correct. A betrayal of this sort…it would not bode well.” Rodrick spoke, his tone carrying ominous connotations. “I am placing a lot of trust in you, Reyna…tell me…is that trust misplaced?” Rodrick inquired, his eyes intense in their gaze on the woman before him. Loyalty is a fragile thing, as Richter had said.

As Rodrick awaited an answer, he wondered just how right his cousin was.

sxmthingwicked

Hey beautiful people!

Hate to have to give a status update like this again but here it goes. Sorry for being MIA for a bit, my mental health has been in the fucking gutter and work and life have just been hectic! I'm slowly getting out of it and I'm looking for new threads!!! I'm not dropping anything so don't worry and to anyone that I owe an answer to, you'll get it soon! Luv u guys!

#ooc #psa

sxmthingwicked

Hello everyone!!! Super sorry for being gone for a bit!!! Had some work stuff that needed to get done and time got away from me 😔 remaining replies coming soon!!! ❤️

#ooc #psa

"perhaps for you it was a simple song. i cannot imagine swapping places with you," she responded, elegantly. however, after thinking over her words for more than a second, charlotte hoped the other wasn't offended. she simply meant that she was not musically-inclined. she supposed the harp was an instrument, but a rather boring one at that.

a pause. charlotte lowered her head in a gentle bow. "indeed. i have not travelled much, nor explored the village." charlotte eyed the bard before moving her eyes around the tavern. "are you familiar with every face that passes through?"

#muse: richter de martan #thread: richter x charlotte #hey little songbird give us a song: richter x charlotte

“Only the ones that look as lost as you.” Richter chuckled.

He had been in this village as long as he could remember. Brightwood was his home in all the ways he was willing to think of one. A safe place where he didn’t need to hide as much as he was used to. He had traveled all over the region, with traveling bands and theater troupes. But after all those performances, Richter always found himself back here. Back at the Golden Crow, singing his heart out while the innkeeper traded food and a roof over his head for his voice. Richter longed for nothing.

Her comment made a chuckle escape him. “I am of the belief that music lies within all of us, one way or the other.” He said. “Brightwood has many beauties to show its people…but the inn is as good a place to start as any.” He chuckled. “So…what brings you out here?

his quest was simple - find the witch and kill her. the end. it was what he was paid to do. now cassian wasn't known to be a man of honor, but he was a man who enjoyed coin. he wasn't scared of the witch, not really, but he'd heard tales from folks in taverns- half of them merely rumors, of course.

naively, he expected that he would be able to simply walk up to the witch's hovel and dispose of her. he never expected to be waking up on her couch.

cassian's eyes fluttered open after several minutes of trying. his eyes quickly took note of everything around him- the scents, the sights, the woman. he let out a grunt as he attempted to sit up, greasy hair falling into his eyes. "what is this place?" his voice was deep from disuse. "what happened to me?" cassian winced, feeling the tenderness of his side.

#muse: helena van cleef #thread: helena x cassian #where the wild things are: helena x cassian

Had he not been sent to kill her, Helena might have found his reactions rather endearing. She rose to her feet, content with how the stew was coming along and walked toward her table. Herbs and rags laid about, a basin of water at the center of the table. Taking the rag into her hand, Helena dampened it in the water. “I found you passed out near my wards…you were bleeding.” She replied gently, as if revealing too much too fast might scare him. “I brought you to my home, you need rest and I managed to stitch your wound before you woke.” Helena said, walking toward the man slowly.

“Now…I am going to ask you this once and I suggest you chose honesty over your pride.” The witch declared, the rag coming into contact with the man’s forehead. Gently wiping away the dirt and sweat, Helena smiled. “Who sent you?”

Open Starter!

Do not, under any circumstances, like my starter! READ RULES BEFORE REPLYING!

Open to all! (M if romantic, no taboo!!)

Summary: Your muse winds up unconscious in the woods near their village, only to be found by Helena...whom they had been sent to kill.

Helena tended to the fire before she took the soaked rag in her hands, dapping at the intruders forehead. Her warning spells had worked, though she did not expect to find someone unconscious near her home. Their little quest might have proved more tiring than she thought. Gently wiping away at the sweat at their brow, Helena pondered over this stranger.

Were they another assassin, sent to kill the witch of the wood? Or were they just a poor, wayfaring soul that wondered too far and got themselves hurt? Only time would tell, Helena supposed as she walked toward the pot of stew she had laid to boil. Just then, the person laid on her couch began to stir, their eyes landing on Helena, who greeted them with a warm smile. "Welcome back. Do try not to stand up too quickly, you'll rip your stitches."

#muse: helena van cleef #indie open starter #indie period starter #open starter #they are strangers!

rosesonbreeze

OPEN: M, F, NB, 25+ PLOT: Historical/Period verse, circa early 1800's. Your muse is desperately looking for a spouse (maybe as a condition of their trust, or after years of no success in the marriage mart) and has enlisted Fred to be their matchmaker. MUSE: Lord Frederick Wakefield, 37, He/Him. Titled but free-spirited gentleman, who spent years traveling the world. May or may not have come back for your muse, except he's too much of a 'lone wolf' to put it out there.

"You cannot be serious." Frederick muses, lips formed into a straight line. The mirth shining in his eyes, but otherwise hidden with proper stature and an unshaking head. "Lord Marcus may be a fine horseman, but you'll spend your honeymoon listening to his hundred and one tips for exemplary horse riding." He mocks, rather unkindly. Indeed, he agreed to return to high society to help his dear friend find a match. But surely they would aim higher than the obvious contenders? "You asked for my help." He levels his eyes with his companion, inching closer. "Let me help stir you to better waters, please?"

#muse: talia manderly #thread: talia x frederick #hope this is okkkkk!

Talia let out a chuckle, her exasperation obvious. The Manderly home was abuzz with another dinner party Talia's mother had thrown, all in hopes of getting her daughter a fine match. Time was passing and people in this high society of theirs were beginning to whisper. Foolish rumors mostly, but it was enough to shake both Talia's parents. They had given her 3 months time to find a betrothed or they would take matters into own hands. Oh what a relief it was when Frederick arrived. Talia was sure that the moment she saw his face, she couldn't have felt happier

"What if I want to know one hundred and one tips for exemplary horse-riding?" Talia teased, giving her friend a smile. "I only tease." She said, taking a sip of her drink. "I suppose I am not taking this as seriously as I was when I asked you for help." Talia sighed. Truth be told, the loneliness was getting too much to bear. Her parents and friends would not be with her forever and Talia found herself growing envious of all the relationships around her.

"Fred...you know me better than anyone here...unless you know of more bountiful waters, I fear this gathering might be a tad...dry."

hiddendcsires

This wasn't the first, nor did Vaelor believe it to be the last time he'd hear this sort of thing. How others chose to survive was not his problem, but he'd had his share of judgement and his pride did not allow him to be brought low.

“You think I wanted your village?” he said, voice tight. “I needed it. Just like the next man will need mine one day. That’s the world we live in. You keep your heart, I'll keep my knife." Was it merciless? Of course. He couldn't truly justify the way he and many others lived, but he didn't let it stop him. He had come face to face with others who had tried to do the same, and they were now ash. And he'd continue to do what he had to, to keep his people safe and alive.

Laughter then escaped him, cruel and deep. "I am aware, but I do not let it haunt me. Why should I when my people are living?" he paused, taking a bite from his meal. "Women, children, families - sitting before us, happy, fed and warm." They may not have been the best people, but they were his and he'd do what he had to, for them. “You are quick to question my mind, girl, when yours still clings to the illusion of fairness." He leaned in, voice low. “There’s no kindness in survival. Only those too soft to admit what it takes.”

#muse: helena van cleef #thread: helena x vaelor #feel free to skip ahead or whatever feels right<3

The hall was as lively as it could get.

It was as if the events of today had not transpired at all. Helena looked upon the man, his figure at the head of the table reminding her of a time when people looked to her for guidance. Despite her own loneliness, Helena was never truly alone among her people. They had loved her parents, raised Helena beside them and only loved her more fiercely once she became leader.

Helena remembered all those solstice nights, her mother besides her as they both carried out the traditions. For a good harvest...and safe future. Now...all had crumbled and fallen before Helena could even blink. She turned her gaze away, seeing no point in debating morals with her captor any further. Helena doubted that he would understand anyway.

Finally choosing to acknowledging the gnawing in her belly, Helena began to slowly eat the food the thralls placed before her. The hunger must have exemplified any flavor, because as soon as the meat touched her tongue, Helena let out a content sigh. Her dark eyes landed on him, a new found strength in her bones. "Then I pray that the day never comes where this village, these people..." Helena looked around, at happy children and dotting parents,"...are needed in the way mine were." Helena whispered.

"Perhaps then kindness won't be so weak to you..."

bebs-art-gallery

The Witch and the Moon

— by majara__

#visage: helena van cleef #low key looks like my baby #muse: helena van cleef #REBLOG FROM SOURCE

ofholocenemuses

Astrid let out a startled laugh as he swept her into his arms and spun her around. Everything fell away. The war, the weight of time, the dread of what tomorrow would bring. There was only his arms around her, and the feeling of being utterly, achingly his.

“You don’t need a solstice to make this special." She murmured, her voice soft as she sank to the ground beside him. She took his face in her hands again, gently, as though memorising him with every touch. “You made it so the moment you asked.”

She leaned in, her forehead resting against his. “And Gods help me... I would have said yes even if you’d asked me in the middle of a muddy field.”

#muse: fernando lopez #thread: fernando x astrid

Happiness was all that mattered now.

It was only them, in this moment. No one else but them. Knowing that she would love him in any form made Fernando believe that he could reach for the stars. Placing her down gently, as if he was afraid to break her, Fernando placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. " I shall return to you and we shall make something of the Barony." He said. "We will be together. I swear." He breathed.

In the background, the ground was being bathed in sun light, the dawn breaking over the night sky. Fernando would have to return Astrid to her home soon and prepare for the march ahead. "I...I'll take you back to your homestead. Your family won't know of any of this."

the village was so much more alive than her home. it held so much color, so much noise, it was nearly overstimulating to the lady. the manor in which she lived was carved of stone and granite. it was constantly cold and dead quiet. charlotte craved anything that wasn't gray and depressing.

it started out as a small habit, escaping the manor to mingle in the village. talk to people she never would have had the chance to- eat things that she never would have had the chance to (perhaps that was a good thing). the tavern soon because part of her routine, not because of the ale or wine, but the sheer aliveness of it. she always left with flushed cheeks and light feeling in her chest.

tonight was no different, except the bard who sang for entertainment. he had the most compelling voice she had ever heard. charlotte briefly thought that she could hear it all day and never grow tired of it. he was quite handsome, too. she blushed at the thought.

after gaining some courage- both mental and liquid- she approached the other, mindful of anyone waiting to speak with him. charlotte paused in front of him, spine straight and lips curled into a smile. "you are really quite talented, sir." her fingers reached into her coin purse, pulling out two silver pieces. "here, for your song."