lionheart.

konrad von kleist. prince of prussia. xxx. mobile nav.

[lionir]

rcyalfamily:

“No need to apologise, your grace. Sometimes titles wrap around us like ill-fitting clothes.” Not that Apolonia knew the feeling. From the time she could toddle around Lazienki Palace she knew she was born into something magnificent, and that she would uphold the legacy that laid on her shoulders.

Oh, now that was interesting. He seemed to hold some sort of affection for his wife, unless the prince was a better actor than she was at reading people. And from his words, it almost seemed like… respect. Something that could be considered uncommon in marriages, even marriages built on love. Interesting indeed. She started to spin a silver ring around a slim finger, the sensation keeping her grounded in reality, lest she wander off into thoughts.

oh, how he knew the feeling all too well. back in his home country, he'd been known around the palace for his simple attire, colour schemes rarely deviating from neutral browns and whites. anything vibrant, anything that could easily catch the eye, he would steer clear off; he's always hated attracting attention towards himself and would stick to the walls as much as possible. it was a complete opposite from that of his wife's -- whenever by her side, he seemed more like her servant than her husband ( which in the dynamics of their marriage was as close to the truth as could be ). the same could be said for the uniform he now donned. truly, he looked not like a servant now but a prince worthy of such fine clothing. though of course, konrad simply found the fabrics of blue all too constricting instead.

❝ they sometimes do indeed, as sad as it is to admit. you sound as though you speak from experience, although i do hope that isn't the case. ❞

[lionir]

mclodramas:

“loss is different for everyone.” he replied carefully, “despite what some believe, no two experiences are the same. in my own knowledge, i have learnt it is a comfort. to believe that we are bonded through the shared pain of loss.” armir took a hearty sip of the whiskey, relishing in the warmth as he pondered his next words. “in my own way, yes. i have. but i was a friend of loss long before all that had transpired here.” in fact, one could rather say loss and armir had come to agreement throughout the years. ( first, the loss of his home, his family. thrown to the swiss and the french like he was nothing, forgotten just as easily. the loss of his brother’s love and adoration, followed closely by the death of his mother. before long, he came to realise he had lost his childhood and that was rounded off with the death of his father. ) it was hard to feel the loss here in bern as others did, when armir was so used to the pain of it all.

( a thought poked at his mind. the near loss of nina — that was new. the loss of life, that he could have handled. he’d been expecting that ever since he was a child, since the ottomans determined to take his country. but the loss of the woman he had never expected to love so absolutely, so completely — that was new. that he wasn’t expecting. that he couldn’t have handled. not at all. ) “rather like you, i am… better than everyone assumes.”

❝ that's a relief to hear. truly, it is. i bare little to no ill will against anyone here, even if there are those who feel otherwise towards me and i can't blame them. but what good would come out of hatred if anything else but more battles and wars? cowardice as it may be, i'd rather avoid more conflicts if i can. both personally and in general. ❞ his wife often accused him of being dead inside -- and in more ways than one, there was no ounce of a lie to the bold statement -- but only in moments like these did a passion so normally stagnant find itself catching fire and warming the insides of cold cages. naturally passive, even more so quick to take on a neutral stand if the opportunity presented itself, it surprised even konrad himself at times just how much of an idealist he seemed to be. ambitious was never a word one would use to describe the prussian prince, but if it was for a world without need for swords or guns, perhaps he had reason to be ambitious.

for one who prided himself of his tact, the momentary lapse in judgement gave way to honest sentiments and his lips pursed in slight annoyance with himself. ❝ i apologise, i didn't mean to get so heavy. i hope i hadn't offended you in any way. ❞ despite his prowess with the sword, his innate meek nature could never allow him to consciously inflict pain onto or assault others. yet another quality of his that not only did his wife jab him for, but his brother at times as well -- konrad had always never been fit for the positions and titles he now held, and frankly he believes he never will be.

[lionir]

friedrichkcnrad:

         he told himself he should be NUMB to it already. deaths, he held her hand like an old lover, embraced her and be embraced in return more times than he held his own wife. he told himself that he should have no emotions for one could not hurt you if you had NOTHING to hurt. and yet, this time of the year, he felt vulnerable in ways he did not like –– - they were not physical pain, and this, could not be remedied with simple medicines.he was FIRE, explosive and yet so cold. the duality and dichotomy that made him a beautiful mess. 

         throwing himself into the floor unceremoniously, the sword clanging LOUDLY pierced through ears and he would had winced but his ears were far too used to the sound of HAND CANNONS. hand ran through the dark locks of hair that contrasted his blue eyes –– - the same blue eyes as all his siblings, the same blue eyes as victor’s. royal blues that bled into their veins, needed nothing more than those very hues to tell that they’re venerated by GOD. but friedrich was always casted in the shadows like an unwanted child or a cruel joke.

         “nothing get pass you, konrad.” he joked, but his tone flat and his eyes as sharp as ever. 

         then, slowly, he opened his mouth as if about to say something. but closed it again. “nothing. don’t worry about it. how’s your brother and sister coping? my condolonces for the lost of your father –– - is what i wished to say but i can’t HELP but wonder the reason behind him orchestrating all this…political schemes without even a consult to his sons.” it’s hard to believe that he would do it by himself, no matter how power hungry he was –– - and friedrich knew it well.

he thought to pursue the topic at hand more but when friedrich chose to change the topic before he could utter a single syllable, konrad decided to let it slide. especially now when it seemed as though all the weight of the world had just suddenly dropped onto his shoulders. ❝ they're... they'll be better soon enough, ❞ he replied rather vaguely.

conversations in relation to his father had always been what could be attributed to as a weak spot ( that is, if the dead could even have weaknesses ). he had no need for forced facades in front of friedrich, no need for pleasantries and half-hearted singing of his father's praises -- the other male knew of the mixed feelings, of all the complexities found within the dynamic konrad shared with his biological father. it was of a man who took him in after he'd lost all that had meant to him, yet also enforced his power-hungry ways onto the country and in turn exploited konrad's loyalty to the man who'd given him so much.

the damper caused by the mention of the late prussian king was evident -- his back slouched forward as though he could make use of his own body frame as a safety blanket, head now hung low and eyes rooted to his lap. he'd always been a small man ( certainly not in physical stature but in more psychological standings ), but now it was more so perceivable than he usually attempted to conceal.

perhaps in one way, konrad was grateful for his father's departure. his father wanted power while all he wanted was peace -- his sword was held up high to protect those who could do no more than lift a shield for themselves, not to rob the innocent of what little possessions they had left. forget the prides of men high above the social classes whose egos needn't be stroked more than they already were; war always affected the civilians, the innocents, most and the previous war had done enough damage to konrad's well-being to last a life time.

even with his lifeless body rotting away, the late prussian king still had a hold so tight on konrad that would never disappear any time soon.

[musesgonnamuse]

hurt MY sibling and i WILL kill you

[wordsnquotes]

Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.

Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund (via wordsnquotes)

[lionir]

rebclhearts:

Lukas remembers after his father and aunt were killed how many condolences he got, and yet none of them comforted him over his loss. None of them would replace the gaping hole in his heart that losing his father had left behind. But it felt immoral not to give them to the Prussian prince even when quite honestly, the news of the Prussian king’s death had brought him some satisfaction. He was a firm believer in God punishing those that did wrong, and nothing had been more wrong than him ordering an attack on Lithuania when most of his army was away. Lukas knew the pressures of being king in a war zone, but he still could not ever forgive the king for what he’d done.

Even still, Lukas did not know this prince. He did not know how involved he had been, or what his stance had been on the attack. He did not know a single thing about Konrad and so, part of him wanted to know more before he passed judgement about him, and another was automatically distrustful of his intentions. His head nods at the words in acknowledgement. “Of course.” He says clearly, for even if the Prussian king was everything Lukas had thought he was, losing a father was not a fate he wished on anybody, especially if they’d been close. Though a man that could practically turn another into a near wasteland with no probable cause could not have been a good father, Lukas could not believe such a thing to be possible.

His jaw clenches slightly, and he nods his head. “Yes, I certainly hope their will be no more tragedies. Enough innocent life has been lost to this war already. We can only hope that this armistice will finally bring an end to it all.” It was all he’d wanted, really. It had brought him nothing but grief since it began, and Lukas can not stand the idea of it continuing any longer. “Will you be residing in Bern for the remainder of the talks?”

❝ it's rather odd, is it not? a soldier like myself hoping everyone could lay down their arms. i'm sure there are some who'd view these peace talks as them being robbed of their job -- fifteen years is far too long a time for everyone to change their mindsets over night. ❞ not that konrad could find himself amongst their ranks; if only the world knew of his previous discontent, made blatant only to those most closest to him and yet even that was small in number. no more than his younger brother, next in line to the prussian throne, and his wife knew of his passionate disagreement towards prussia's campaign -- how could he say them aloud when it would be a clear defiance against the man who gave him life anew?

would he be where he was now if he hadn't been legitimised? perhaps he could have joined the army, made his way up the ranks like any civilian could if they worked hard enough and possessed the required skills for the job. but even that was nothing but the best case scenario -- it wouldn't come as a surprise if the king were to appoint those in his favour to positions that couldn't match up to the talents they possessed, even if there were others more qualified.

there was no point in revisiting the past, yet konrad couldn't help but let his mind wander every now and then.

the following question posed to him was one that he answered reluctantly, visible in the slight purse of his lips and the perplexity reflected upon brown eyes. ❝ sadly, yes. my son's birthday is fast approaching and, to be honest, my wife and i would much prefer we celebrate elsewhere. it's rather rude to celebrate someone's birth when so many have... left us here in bern alone. ❞ if he could retreat back to the lands of prussia, he would. if he could give up his current title and be assured a safe and quiet life somewhere in the countryside, he'd do it all in a heartbeat. but his brother needed him and despite the war coming to an end, the peace they had at hand was precarious at best.

[lionir]

victorvonkleist:

“Is that supposed to appease me or hurt me, brother? You continue to make yourself easy to misunderstand.” His words were pointed, but they were as sharp as he had been stung. Theirs had always been a complicated relationship. The moment Victor was first introduced to his older brother, he thought he would resent him forever. Up until then, he had thought himself his father’s first and only son, the sole heir to the Prussian throne. Up until then, he never had to think about having a brother to be compared to, both by other people and by himself. He had been too used to it being just him and Georgiana. Konrad was an interloper. And so Victor always thought that he’d hold his brother at a distance. Keep Konrad a stranger. But despite that (and despite the words that had just come out of Konrad’s mouth), he wasn’t. 

Konrad wasn’t a stranger. Heaven knows how many times Victor had been unpleasant towards his brother, how many times he had been inconsiderate and pushed the other away with full force, but Konrad always came back, ever so patient with a smile plastered on his face, and Victor wouldn’t admit it, but even his brother’s annoying smile had grown on him. He wasn’t a stranger. What stranger would even put himself in harm’s way to save his life? (It was something the crown prince never forgot, and would be forever grateful for). Konrad had knocked enough to make it through the cracks. Victor had always thought that there was something inherently foolish about his brother’s devotion, but he himself would be the fool if he continued to insist that he didn’t need Konrad by his side.

He’d been watching his brother, noticing how his expression had changed from hurt to confused, and coming to the realisation that perhaps Konrad knew nothing. His glare softened and he was silent for a moment as he reviewed his options. Victor could count the number of people he truly trusted on one hand. Konrad was one of them, despite everything, especially when it came to their country’s affairs, and if the crown prince was going to tell anyone of their father’s last words right now, then it might as well be him. Victor let out a sigh. “Look, Konrad.” There was a change in the tone of his voice – less angry, more serious. “What I am about to tell you, I haven’t told anyone yet, and you must not repeat this to another soul. Not even your wife.” Victor figured he wouldn’t have to explain why. Konrad was smart. “Father. He––” He glanced to the side for a moment, realising how much easier this seemed in his head just a few seconds ago. “He was responsible for the fire that broke out here. And he was about to say something else – that I must do something, but he… ran out of time.” Victor searched his brother’s eyes, not quite sure how he was taking the news. “So tell me, brother. What do you make of our current fight?”

konrad was undoubtedly certain no ounce of his heart, no cell in his body, could remain upset with his brother for longer than a millisecond. that is, if it was possible for any period of time at all. a pang to his heart had just been inflicted onto him by that same sibling, yes, but his feelings towards victor would never -- and that was a definite never-- reach to heights of immense animosity. only god knew the reason behind his fixation, his unwavering loyalty, towards his younger brother. it wasn't as if he'd been lonely all his life and once the opportunity presented itself, he couldn't help but quickly cling onto the closest blood relative that came forward. in the earlier half of his life, he had been perfectly happy with the life he lived with his mother and uncle. not once did he find himself longing or yearning for the love from a father when his uncle had already taken on the paternal role in his eyes, and what need did he have for siblings if he already found himself blessed with the family he had?

maybe it was merely one of those things that would take more than a lifetime to find the answer to.

wallowing in self-pity over an unrequited love for a family member was beneath him, not to mention how as much as he hated to face the music, konrad could never see victor matching the same amount of devotion he had towards him. instead he placed focus on the slight change of his brother's demeanour, of how the conversation took a heavy turn and how the tension in the air was unmistakable. without a second of hesitation, he gives a nod of his head and agrees to the condition, urging for the other to continue. in an instant it was as though all the air in his body had been knocked out of him and the world, a hazy mess.

of course their father would want to invoke the start of another war. of course their father wanted prussia to expand its reach, to extend the borders of their land, when all konrad wanted was peace. how many times had he hashed and rehashed in the comfort of privacy with victor his truest sentiments? victor knew how much konrad was against the entire campaign, how he had half a mind to speak up and voice his disagreements, but he was bound by honour to repay the goodness their father had shown him and insubordination was never a part of his dictionary. and there was the matter of victor himself -- if victor were to tell him to kill an innocent child, there was no doubt in konrad's head that the likelihood of him carrying out the deed was high and that thought in and of itself frightened konrad to the bone.

he thought that by coming to bern, by participating in the negotiations for peace, he'd no longer have the constant battle in his head between his own beliefs and that of his country. but if victor were to share the same ideals as their father did...

❝ i can't do this anymore, victor. ❞ meek in the volume of his voice and desperate in tone, his legs found their way over to the bed and he rested the full weight of his body against its frame; the support that came from the furniture was all that now kept konrad on his knees, from crumbling and breaking under the pressure of it all. he was a soldier, but he fought to protect. not to destroy.

he allowed himself a moment of silence before tilting his head back up to meet his brother's eyes, the same desperation from earlier now present not only in his speech but also in his gaze. ❝ unnecessary would be an apt word. if you accept my apology, just say the word and it’s forgotten. ❞ forget the hostility of the younger male’s words, or the heavy weight of sadness that had been dropped onto konrad by that same man; his love for his brother would always, always overcome such petty, pathetic emotions.

[lionir]

ineffcble:

julietta was not necessarily a troublemaker, avoiding to cause a ruckus. she seldom enjoyed it when the limelight was on her or when she drew unnecessary attention to herself. despite her bashful attitude, she found it hard to move places without making a noise –– especially when as the days progressed she seemed to be becoming clumsier and clumsier. perhaps it was the fact that she was beginning to unlock the free spirit inside, or maybe it was the fact that she just needed to pay a little more attention.

during many situations, thinking was definitely not her top priority. what she did was through impulse and mere emotion. hence, it was only fitting that she kick off her shoes and climb a tree. yes, climb a tree. not only did she believe that she saw the most beautiful bird in all of switzerland, but she thought that the view of the gardens would be much more favourable. however, there is a reason that princesses are not the ones who are jumping into battle and attempting to infiltrate enemy walls as julietta quickly lost her footing and came down with a loud thump.

she couldn’t quite remember what happened as the air ran through her hair and her locks landed on her face, but she knew she at least let out a very unladylike groan as she opened her eyes. she gave a pursed smile to the prince that had helped her up and could feel a blush paint her cheeks rosy, “i believe that physically, i feel alright,” she sighed, “although i’m afraid i cannot say the same for my dignity.” she brushed herself off just as something to do with her hands, “grazie, for being a gentleman. kindness at anytime is appreciated.”

konrad's eyes conducted a brief inspection of the princess from head to toe, and no bruises -- physical ones, at least -- were visible upon initial observation. but his lack of educated experience on the inner workings of the human body discredited his opinion and could easily be over-weighed by that from a trained professional. the only field of reference he had came from his own experiences with injuries from the battlefield, yet even soldiers went to medics for their wounds to be attended to.

❝ you should get an examination from a medicus just in case, lest something be there that we're both unaware of. ❞ his eyes were kind, caring even, but they were now feigned kindness -- the momentary lapse in his innate identity gave way once more to his true, lifeless nature. genuine kindness that resonated from the heart only came from those who had one, and konrad was dead inside. ❝ i could accompany you, if you'd like. though... i have to admit, even a medicus would be of little help to an injured dignity. ❞ a light chuckle leaves him -- airy and soft, as though leaving room for other interpretations of what he deemed was enough to warrant the label of a laugh.

❝ rest assured, i have absolutely no knowledge an accident occurred here. all i remember is myself taking a nice, leisurely stroll and bumping into the young, fair maiden now before me. ❞ there was no mistaking the fact that konrad had seen what he'd seen, that he did just witness a young lady attempt to climb up a tree in vain, but there was no harm in pretending otherwise if it could help cushion the blow. even if konrad saw no reason for it to carry such a heavy weight that it would wound one’s dignity.

[lionir]

rcyalfamily:

“Is my information faulty, is prince not your title?” She asked, feigning shock. For, of course, she would not lower the mask she had so firmly secured for him, for a man she had hardly met before. She was far too cautious for that, no matter what. She didn’t miss the small smile, a glimpse of something genuine, and her brow furrowed for a fraction of a second.

“And how fares your wife?” She asked, feigning interest. His marriage was of no concern to her, it affected Apolonia and her goals in no way whatsoever, but it was expected of her to care. It was expected that she show some sort of compassion to countries, especially those within her alliance.

❝ no, no. you are correct. my apologies. ❞ he leaves it at that, plain and simple without any explanations, and gives a small bow of his head. it had been over a decade -- nearing two, in actual fact -- since his legitimisation. since he'd been pulled up from the streets and fitted into fabrics too limiting and colours too striking, yet he was fairly sure he would never get accustomed to the title his not-so new life brought along with it ( and part of him wishes he could be rid himself of it ).

the mention of maddalena brought a small sense of delight to his face, expression now coloured ever so faintly as compared to his usual dull and monochrome facade. there was no love in their marriage, yes, but over the years she'd become a dear friend of his and he was sure she returned the same sentiment. ❝ my wife is well, thank you for asking. i'm almost certain even god himself couldn't hope to weigh her down regardless of the circumstance, ❞ he chuckles lightly. biology aside, maddalena had always assumed the husband role in their marriage more so than he did.

[lionir]

mclodramas:

the intent was to offer the wine, and bid a hasty retreat. he knew better than anyone that at times, mourning the loss of a loved one was something intensely personal, intensely private. ( he was not foolish enough to think that just because he had barely batted an eye at the loss of his father, others too would feel the same. the loss of his mother was something else entirely — as ana could attest, locking himself away for days at time, venturing only when night fell, the questions in his head reaching painful levels of volume. mourning was complex and pained. he knew that. )

with a nod, armir slid into the chair across from the prussian prince, gathering nearby goblets for the drink. “a glass shared is something i can manage, i do believe.” he tried for a smile — but it came as more a grimace. “you are well as one can be, i take it?”

❝ better than everyone assumes of me, if i were to be honest. ❞ a momentary slip of his true heartless nature that he quickly takes reign of, sitting back down after rising slightly in favour of greeting the older male. his father was dead, konrad was well aware of that; he'd seen him fall hopelessly still on the ballroom ground and his brother equally as motionless from shell shock. but it was hard to grief in excessive volumes when he hadn't as much connection and rapport with the deceased monarch as his still-mourning siblings did.

❝ i'm certain you've experienced your fair share of losses as well, in one way or another, and i can only hope you are well too, your highness. ❞ surprising as it may be, there was no hidden sentiments of animosity; only genuine wishes of peace for all. konrad held little to no grudges against anyone -- his enemies were not his own but were the enemies of his country, forced onto him out of duty and loyalty. if he'd had it his way, he wouldn't even have enemies in name but alas, he was no king who could make decrees or pull prussia back from battles against other countries. if his brother were to choose war and anguish just like their father did, he'd have no choice but to follow him till his last breath.

[lionir]

luxsaeterna:

“I could,” she repeated quietly, a silent content in her voice. Konrad was unlike men with egos that bruised easily like overly ripe fruit. Though many men called him soft, a coward, Maddalena held only respect for her husband. It was not easy, she knew, to stay true to oneself regardless of what’s being said ehind one’s back. Maddalena could never do it. But perhaps it’s much easier for Konrad, Konrad –– father of her child, Konrad –– dead inside. Whatever the reason, it did not change the fact at hand, and did not diminish her fondness of him. Even in her intoxicated state, Maddalena felt a pang of frustration at her husband’s slip of tongue. His Highness. But were you not also his son, Konrad? Those were the words she had grown too tired to say. A question to which the answer had been carved in her head so painfully. Why someone like him, who could have everything she had to work so hard for to get, would just throw it all away without a second’s thought. Men, men. She had no need for men an their sons, men who could not appreciate the privilege they had been blessed with while women like her had to scrape at the earth until their nails broke and blood was all they could taste in their tongue. Men. The word a bitter taste on her lips, tainted the cherry reds an ugly shade of hell instead. Unlike her sister, Maddalena never sought for dreams of fairy tale, of a love story like those written by Shakespeare –– they all ended in tragedy anyway. No, she only sought for glory, for something her brother had achieved. She had remembered it very clearly. One day, going to the royal palace. The throne in which the king had sat upon, an almost venerated light shone down on it. And Maddalena thought, ah if she fought hard enough, would she also be able to sit on the throne? It was not the throne that she wanted. It was the position, the one closest to God, the light, the illumination, venerated. Kissed by His Holiness. That was Maddalena’s childhood dream. She was not such an innocent child anymore, nor that much pious. How could her God ever loved her anymore? She who had forsaken him for the sake of power and glory? She. She. Fallen from grace.

She sighed as she felt the constriction of her corset coming undone. Slipped on her nightgown –– white never suited her. “As long as you’re alright. I do not need a husband too consumed by grief, he’s rendered unable to do anything else.” Scathing words were her specialty. Her words were bullets and how many had died taking shots from her lips? Too many. I guess you would not be running for the position. Another words she did not say. The first blood she shed was not from between her legs, but from biting her tongue. This, she learnt, was a habit she never let go. Though now for entirely different reason than the past. “Victor will ascend to the throne. That is without any doubt. It’s not as if you’re going to rally yourself to be king. But that does not mean that we’re free to leave this place. This, this will continue and –– I’m tired. This place suffocates me.” Chatty when she’s drunk. But she’s always the one doing the talking between them anyway.

smiles -- at least genuine smiles and certainly not the ones he fashioned at court -- came at a rare occurrence for him. but whatever the reason may be, they came at an alarming frequency whenever he was in her presence. perhaps it was because she reminded him of his brother in a way -- hard as a rock, unbreakable, unstoppable. a prominent contrast against his own passive, acquiescent nature. it was odd that the two were not related by blood when victor and himself, half siblings as they were but siblings nevertheless, were more different than they were alike. not to mention how it seemed as though konrad had more in common with maddalena than he did with his own brother. while there was no doubt that took nothing away from the glaring dichotomy between their essences of fire and ice, they had enough common ground to make their loveless marriage work. to make it last, and last strong.

konrad gives a small chuckle, his voice so heavy with affection and his words heartfelt. ❝ you don't need me at all, really. or any husband for that matter. ❞ maddalena was perfectly capable of self-sustenance; she needn't a man in her life to own her and tell her what to do when she knew better than some of the men he knew. how many times had they lay awake at night, gazing up into the canopy of the bed and musing in soft whispers about the lives they would have lived if their roles had been reversed? maddalena born as a prince of prussia, power in every step and voice exuding levels of confidence konrad could only hope to obtain for himself. maddalena was destined for great things, born to live the life of prestige and political games more than he did.

if she'd been born a boy...

❝ i'm sorry. ❞ the words, solemn in tone, managed to quietly slip past normally tightly-guarded lips. for what he felt the need to apologise for came as a mystery even to himself, his mind now an amalgamation of various thoughts and sentiments. ❝ if you had been born a boy, i'm certain you would've found your way to be king of your own country by now. ❞ a small part of him -- far too small to entertain and far too grave to let fester into something much bigger -- wished he could help her fulfil that in one way or another. if he had no love for his brother, if he had deemed the younger male unfit to rule, he could now take his place as king with maddalena by his side. although, it was no secret that konrad had absolutely no desire to carry the weight of an entire country on his shoulders; grand as it may be to be revered, to be called the most powerful man in the country, to be called king, it meant nothing to a man with so little ego. but to her, on the other hand...

❛ queen ❜ was not enough; maddalena deserved to be a king.

[lionir]

rebclhearts:

After putting his young son down for a nap for the afternoon, Lukas decided that a walk would be best. To be out in the garden while the sun sets was truthfully very beautiful as the sun lowered over the lakes and mountains. It was the kind of sunset so breathtaking that he could weave words of poetry about it endlessly. He’d never voice it in such a way to most people, but Lukas had always been a man that enjoyed nature, travelling, and exploring and while his soft side was no secret, he did try to tone some of it down on occasion.

He couldn’t resist discussing the scenery with his guards though, comparing it to the land that makes up Lithuania. Which albeit wasn’t very impressive nowadays after all the way had done to their country, but their was still something to be said for it. Movement to his left comes as a distraction though and when he turns his head, he easily recognizes the Prussian prince, a pleasant smile forming on his mouth as he folds into a bow in return. “Your Highness.” He had heard of course of the bastard turned prince, of his legitimization and the talks of his incredible swordsmanship. All he had heard made this prince sound like an interesting man, and it had left Lukas intrigued. 

He nodded his head, lips curving into a wider smile. “You’re not interrupting at all, I will gladly spare some time for you.” He takes a couple of steps, shifting so that he could look the prince face on. “My condolences for the loss of your father. Too many were lost in that needless attack.” They may have been on opposing sides of this war, but Lukas was well aware that those killed in fire had not been deserving of death in such a way. Not to mention Lukas knew exactly what it was like to lose a father in completely unjust circumstances, though he had no idea what the relationship between the Prussian king and his children had been like. .

how many a time had he heard that already since the late king's passing? too many for a man to remain sane, kornad could tell anyone that much. not because he hated the sharp reminder of a parental figure's departure or a loved one gone to join other loved ones. no, konrad had no love for his father. or at least the expected familial love one has for their parent. a great appreciation definitely, and gratitude he could never hope to repay in his lifetime. it was simply the repetition of it all, the farce and feigned show of lament that irked him more than it should.

not to mention that the forced condolence left a sour taste in his mouth. konrad saw no reason for it to come from a place of sincerity, what with the man in question being the very same man who caused total destruction to the other male's country. how those words could have left his lips alone greatly astounded konrad, regardless of the bite in them. his father was no great man. konrad, from the very beginning and till present day, longed for nothing more than peace and prosperity, but the late prussian ruler wanted more land and it came at a grave cost. truthfully, he would take no offence if the other king were to ridicule or mock his now dead father; if konrad were in his shoes ( and if he had a heart ), he would have done the same.

❝ thank you, i appreciate the sentiment. ❞ while he held no animosity for the lithuanian king, konrad had never been one for sentiments ( or emotions at that ) so the best he could offer was a polite smile, words spoken in the lightest of tones and his voice as gentle as always. ❝ while we can't turn back time, i can only hope that no more tragedies occur in the future. ❞

[lionir]

rcyalfamily:

“Prince Konrad.” Apolonia dipped into a low curtsey, one practised since she could first walk, before rising. She knew the prince, she made it her business to know everyone, even if they didn’t know her. She needed all the information she could get, if she wanted to succeed in this chaotic time. And she was determined to do so. Konrad Von Kleist, brother to Victor and Georgiana, the crown prince and the princess, husband to Maddalena. While she hadn’t heard much in the way of gossip, her curiosity was peaked.

“Yes, I believe so.” A small smile graced her lips as she adjusted the books in her arms, a few nonfiction books that she had picked up from the library moments before, for research purposes, already with papers marking important pages.

“I was very sorry to hear about the death of your father. I suppose your brother will be ascending to the throne soon enough.” Whether that was a sore point between the brothers or not was of interest to the Polish princess.

❛ prince ❜? the title, forced into position so distinctively before his own name, stuck out like a sore thumb. the juxtaposition between the two, konrad found all too amusing. evident in the small crack in his feigned smile and making way for one that was more genuine -- God knew it was the most others would see from him outside of closed doors or the privacy of his chambers. the rare sight didn't last long, however, as it never did; konrad was always too aware of his surroundings, too aware of the proper demeanour one of their social cast must carry themselves in.

it wasn't too hard to reign control over his expression again after the mention of his now late father. not because a wave of lament came washing over at him, nor because fond memories now flitted past brown eyes. his father was not a cold-hearted man -- not like him, at least -- and his attempts at bridging the gap between his illegitimate child weren't limited in supply. but whatever feelings konrad had for the now deceased king were one of respect and immense gratitude, not one of a filial son for his father.

❝ thank you, ❞ words spoken once again out of schooled conduct and certainly not from his heart. ❝ but yes. he was born to be king, my brother. there was never any doubt about that. ❞ oh, the copious amounts of praises he could sing about his dearest younger brother. of anecdotes from their youth to victor's endearing scowl ( truthfully, konrad was perhaps the only one who found it remotely endearing ), he had love aplenty for his younger sibling.

[friedrichkcnrad]

- ̗̀ ❝ @lionir

         sound of METAL clanging against each other, a sharp and piercing sound echoing inside the room like a symphony that accompanied the war inside each man’s heart. in his head was memories ; one after another, flooding him like hurricane, and he felt himself loosing his footing in the midst of the sound of his late wife’s screams and a TOTAL silence that followed soon, the pained cries of his men, and the deafening sound of cannons. everything blending into a maddening melody and his attacks grew faster, sharper, HEAVIER.           war turned you into another man. the trauma, the adrenaline. but life, L I F E molded you into something you had little to no control of.          with one last push, he parried konrad’s sword and held his against the other’s throat. HEAVY breathing, then he turned away, casting his sword to the floor. hand running through dark curls, the spar was over. it was a matter of luck. him and konrad, always only one score ahead or behind each other –– - ever since they were little. “apologies, can we call it a day? my mind’s all over the place today.” he couldn’t seem to FOCUS no matter how hard he tried. the death of little stefan a call to his own baby girl.

[lionir]

konrad wasn’t normally one for distractions; he was always too alert, even when sleep slackened his muscles and his mind was light as air. despite all his efforts for some inner peace and serenity, something, in some unrevealed part of his physical form, would always keep watch. poked at him for the quietest of creeks or the feint glimpse of a shadow from the corner of his eye. he blamed paranoia for it all -- the tragedies he’s seen would do that to a man, even one as cold and dead as konrad was. safety and security were for the naive; let that be left to his son, still but a young lad blind to the horrors of the world and innocent, precious. a treasure to be protected till his dying breath.

but today was different. or on the contrary, it was his attention to detail that ironically left him open. intuitive a man he may be, it wasn’t intuition alone that told him something was amiss within his current sparring partner. he knew friedrich, almost as much as he knew his own brother, and he knew there was more to the other male than his current show of prowess -- movements a step too late, blows less accurate than what was considered the norm for the other swordsman. he must be distracted, kornad theorised in his head, before realising he himself had his head in the clouds and was forced back onto earth with a sword up his throat. a small chuckle leaves him ( his own folly proved amusing ) but it was quick to dissipate into thin air when his assumptions were proven correct and gave reason for friedrich’s dip in ability.

❝ no apologies necessary, ❞ he murmured in a voice so gentle after catching his breath ( it was only when he had a sword in hand did people think him otherwise than for the pliant, docile man he really was ). ❝ has something been troubling you? you know i’m always here to listen. ❞ 

[lionir]

          ˗ˏˋ closed starter for ( @ineffcble || julietta ) !!  ˎˊ˗

he’s always had a great amount of respect for the opposite gender, including those here at court – how they could get so much done in such limiting fabric was beyond him. he’s never seen himself as a brute ( though one could argue that was exactly what a brute would say ) but he figures he wouldn’t be able to uphold the same degree of poise and elegance his wife carried if he was in her shoes.

what a beautiful day it was today, so beautiful that it would be no surprise if it posed a great distraction to some ( especially those with the added burden of gowns flowing down to their feet ). konrad walked down the hallway with his head turned to admire the scenery, only to hear a sudden thud accompanied by a small sound of distress. he was quick to turn his attention towards the sound and equally as swift in his stride forward, lowering himself and eyes immediately recognising the identity of the supposed stranger.

❝ are you alright, your highness? ❞ he murmured, voice gentle as always with a faint but recognisable prussian lilt; for all the seven years of his married life, while holding conversations came at fair ease now, the accent was hard to be rid himself of in its entirety. tenderly and carefully he reached out and helped the foreign princess up onto her feet, his usually plastered on smile now carrying some level of softness to it ( for once, it was not all feigned and desolate of genuine emotion ) ❝ i hope you are not hurt. ❞

[sourgrcund]

@lionir

the last person he wished to look at, interact with or let alone see was the prussian prince. ( the knowledge of what the kid’s father did — not to mention his own actions to end the king’s life? ha. armir had enough guilt on his chest as was; he did not want nor need anymore. ) and yet, something had him hesitating, had him holding his feet where they stood. something something something. his lips pursed and of their violation, his hand held out the heavy, darkened bottle of wine that was in his grasp. “you perhaps need a drink more than i do, your grace.”

[lionir]

news of his father’s heinous crime still weighed heavy above-head. disgusted as he was by the king’s actions, was he exactly thrilled by the way it all ended? was ’devastated’ a more apt word ( and was it genuine or merely a forced show of filial devotion )? while he wasn’t the most vocal about his political stance ( though most could take an accurate guess as to where his allegiance lay ), he wasn’t one to shy away from the question when it was brought up in conversation – those who’ve asked and those close to him knew that he’s always been against his country’s campaign and that he was one who valued peace above anything else. pride was truly a deadly sin; how many lives had been lost for the sake of political gain, or to stroke insurmountable amounts of ego belonging to those who had ego aplenty? hands alone were not enough to represent all the devastation and turmoil – disloyal as it may be, the late king’s end may bring about the same for all the doom that had haunted them these past two centuries.

the man who had offered him life anew, and the man whose thrown away the lives of others if it so benefited him – the juxtaposition of the two personas alone could drive the most sane of men mad. perhaps konrad would continue to live his life without closure. perhaps he would have to live forever not knowing what to make of the man with complexities galore, his father.

quiet in nature he may be, the same could not be said for all the ruckus in his head, loud enough to almost drown out the voice of the approaching king. he gives a deep bow of his head and plasters on a polite smile – his dramatics could come later. ❝ i appreciate the kind gesture, your majesty. i would be honoured to accept it if we could share a glass together. ❞

[lionir]

          ˗ˏˋ closed starter for ( @rebclhearts || lukas ) !!  ˎˊ˗

flowers were a beautiful creation, konrad had always believed; a gift from god himself. though perhaps a major influence to the possibly biased belief came from his mother, who had always ensured at least a singular gentian flower found residence in their abode. it brought life to the otherwise dark and dim space and they reminded him of the home he’s abandoned years ago. the same could be said for the words now spoken within an earshot away.

what an awe-inspirting sight it must be at first glance, monarchs from across the continent and beyond gathered together under the roof of a singular castle. after all the bloodshed and violence, konrad would never have imagined in his wildest dreams that he could now have such a casual audience amongst the gardens with the ruling king of a neighbouring country. granted, they weren’t exactly alone – only a fool would leave their king without protection and the guards in close distance hovered over their patriarch – but this was as much privacy as the prussian prince could get alone with the lithuanian king and that was more than enough.

with his hands by his sides, in clear view to dispel whatever suspicions they could possibly have over him, he pauses just a few inches before the king and gives a deep bow. ❝ your majesty, ❞ he spoke in a tongue so familiar to him – truth be told, he had a better command of his lithuanian than his german by a slight margin. however, by no means did that instigate the assumption he was as fluent as the king now before him; there was no denying the hint of a foreign accent and prussian would always be his mother tongue.

❝ i hope i’m not interrupting anything but, with all due respect, i would be honoured to have a few minutes of your time. ❞