( timothee chalamet, genderfluid, they/he/she, 23 ) ** ♔ announcing OLIVIER BOURBON, the PRINCE OF FRANCE ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble TIMOTHEE CHALAMET. it is a miracle that THEY survived the last five years and for that reason, they are FOR the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of SILK SHIRTS THAT HANG A LITTLE TOO LOOSE, SAD SMILES AND SLEEPLESS NIGHTS, THE LAUGHTER OF GHOSTS, EATING FRESH FRUIT OUT OF AN ORNATE BOWL.**
hi besties ! i’m el, i play olivier, they’re.... a disaster, but they’re my child whom i love, here’s their intro !!
trigger warnings: illness, death in the family
NAME : prince olivier yves étienne of the house of bourbon
NICKNAMES : oli (siblings and close friends) / most people just call them olivier
OCCUPATION / TITLE : youngest surviving prince of the house of bourbon
GENDER : genderfluid, doesn’t define it more than that, any pronouns
ROMANTIC & SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual biromantic polyamorous (an open not-so-secret, they’ll sleep with anyone who wants to share his bed)
born fourth of six, since birth, olivier didn’t really have responsibilities on his shoulders. they weren’t being groomed to the throne, nor arranged for marriage since birth, so he really had the freedom to do whatever he wanted - within reason, of course.
he had always been a free thinker, his mind open to new ideas, new people, new ways of living life that weren’t as by-the-books as everyone around them. listening to philosophy, to the greatest thinkers in france, to anyone who wanted to be heard. while olivier didn’t have the ability to pull strings politically the way their older siblings did, they could hear people out, and sometimes that’s all someone wanted.
they were incredibly close with their younger siblings, especially claude. claude was a little dreamer just like olivier, and despite their age difference, they got along like twins, always on the same wavelength, spending much of their free time together.
olivier also worships their older siblings - they have always been a source of strength and inspiration for them (they’re secretly also glad that they have three siblings between themself and the throne, though).
when the plague hit, along with france’s regular wet weather, olivier fell ill at the same time that claude and constance did. he never thought he’d survive, but the truth was worse than death. he survived, claude did not.
still in a deep phase of mourning, olivier truly understands that life is a gift now. every second cannot be passed by, every moment worth a lifetime, not to waste.
when they healed, olivier picked up the habit of sneaking out of the palace at night. they’d roam the streets of paris, mingling with whomever caught their eye. they made friends this way, but, unknowingly, they also brought in enemies. some of these commoners were provided jobs in the palace thanks to olivier - though now, they don’t know friend from foe.
olivier has never been a politician; they’ll admit to their trusted inner circle that they didn’t pay enough attention in lessons leading up to this summit, so they’re truly just hoping for the best when it comes to addressing everyone properly.
they refuse to waste a second, but they don’t want to see their kingdom fall apart, either. he’ll do what it takes to secure alliances with other countries - whatever it takes. while he may not be first in line for the throne - nor second nor third - olivier knows what the name bourbon means. they will not be pitied, they will do what they need to do. after all, they’d always been a people-pleaser.
lately, sleep has been avoiding them. she’s been kept up at night by the thoughts of the fantômes hurting their family, their loved ones. they love france with all of their heart, but they wish there was more that could be done. they trust their father and brother to be able to figure things out, but they fear for their lives, and fear that olivier themself is the one who put everyone in this situation.
they just want safety and happiness for themself and their loved ones that’s all
“you cannot leave now, young prince,” their comment made him chuckle, as they usually did. there was always some type of amused smile on daeshim’s face whenever he was around the bourbon children, and after the past five years they all had, it was an expression he welcomed. “i may still need your guarding abilities yet.”
at the prince’s hushed tone, daeshim leaned in closer to hear him, his eyebrows furrowing. “and what reason would they have for being upset with you?” daeshim could read the guilt in their eyes from miles away, but he’d never understood why. in truth, it wasn’t really his place to ask. in his mind, olivier always came around when they needed him. otherwise he was just there as a protector and shoulder to lean on. “don’t give them too much credit.” he whispered, also not wishing to be overheard.
“I think I’d be dragged back to the ball yelling and kicking if I tried to leave right now, and not just for my immaculate guarding abilities,” they replied, taking another sip of their wine. One of the hosts of all of this leaving early? It would be talked about for weeks - Olivier knew better than to try to get out of anything when it came to this summit. They didn’t want even more attention on herself than she’d already gotten.
At Daeshim’s look, Olivier wanted to shy away. They were quick when it came to thinking up an excuse, though - “I’ve not exactly been the best host. Avoidant, quiet... I am not my siblings... and they may be upset with me as they are upset with the rest of our family; things have... not been going well with this summit.” Was that a good enough excuse? They hoped so. They didn’t want to anger Daeshim, the same way they didn’t want to anger the rest of their family. No one needed to know that the blood on the Fantômes’ hands was also on his own hands. No one needed to know that it kept him up at night, tossing and turning until she eventually gave up on sleep. They laughed, though, at his whisper, bowing their head. “I have to give them some credit, Sir, or else they will discredit me. My reputation cannot handle another negative blow - I live to be worshipped,” they joked in return, trying not to think about the many negative blows that would come if their secret were to get out.
it was hard not to see olivier as a child of his own– they had been through tremendous amounts of pain, and as long as olivier saw fit, daeshim would always be a constant in their life. if daeshim thought long and hard about it, olivier would come up as one of his greatest achievements. their losses were his losses, his heart ached at the thought of the loneliness they’d endured at such a young age. it reminded him of himself. perhaps that was the reason he felt such a kinship to them.
“i’d rather not be anywhere else,” daeshim let his guard down for a moment, matching their tone and smiling down at the young prince. he placed a hand on their shoulder firmly, assuringly. “so,” he sighed and pulled away, and gave a nod toward the crowd once more. “why aren’t you out mingling with such a vast crowd, then?”
“I can think of at least a dozen places that I would rather be,” they admitted candidly, looking up towards the ceiling. They didn’t want to make Daeshim’s life harder by sneaking out of the palace the way they had dozens - if not hundreds - of times before; les Fantômes had truly taken away nearly every ounce of happiness they had left in their life, one way or another. At Daeshim’s touch, though, they let out a breath that it felt like they’d been holding all night. They missed fond touches like that one. Touches of their loved ones. “I think they’re all upset with me...” they admit, their tone quiet, not wanting to be overheard. “Or, well... our family... and I have tasted enough of their ire for a lifetime.” It was lonely, feeling so isolated in such a crowd. Some of the isolation was their own fault, admittedly, but, in their mind, they were the one that gave les Fantômes a space in the palace. They were the reason they’d infiltrated - the fault was on Olivier’s shoulders and Olivier’s shoulders alone. Why would they be celebrating now? “I am sure that they are all wonderful people, though.”
though daeshim told himself to keep personal feelings separate from his work, it never seemed to go down that way. as the years passed he became more and more devoted to them, for all of the royal family. he would easily lay his life on the line for them, though in this line of work that was not entirely out of the ordinary. olivier was different, though– after the plague almost took them, it affected daeshim greatly, just as it had when the two youngest were taken. he saw them all as his responsibility, even the dauphin, and though he would never admit it, he felt partly at fault for not being able to help more.
daeshim nodded, “i suppose you no longer need my services, then, your royal highness,” he matched their teasing tone, a small smirk on his lips as he gestured out against the crowd. “seeing as you have this all under control.”
Olivier wanted to reach for Daeshim’s hand the way they had when they were a child. Twelve was too old to be holding someone’s hand like that, they can remember someone lecturing them, the voice faint, but the words sticking. But Olivier, at age twelve, had been the child who clung to others quite quickly - who loved all of those who showed them even an ounce of positive attention. They strived for their older siblings’ praise, for Daeshim and the rest of the guards’ praise, for anyone to tell them that they were good enough. And now, now that Constance and Claude were... it even ached to think about - Olivier was the youngest, and they wished they could behave as a youngest child would. “I wouldn’t have this under control if it were not for your teachings, Sir,” they replied, their voice gentle, full of admiration for him, devotion to him, their loyalty just as plain as his. “Thank you. For being here tonight.”
It seemed uncertainty and fear wasn’t something that could be washed away with wine and a frugal party, she could sense it in the air and she could see it in the faces of a few she passed by in the great hall. with a goblet in hand that had barely been touched she walked around the room without a destiny nor a target, she came to stand next to stranger not sure how or why she had stopped there but without looking towards him, blue hues locked into the crowd. “seems wrong, doesn’t it? to have fun in times like such?” she asked out loud.
The question took them off guard - they wished that it hadn’t. How were they supposed to reply to that? Did she even know who they were? Was it a purposeful insult against their family? Taking another sip of their wine to try to ease their nerves, Olivier chewed at his lip, taking a deep breath. “Well.. everyone copes with stress in different ways,” they finally answered. “I... am not the sort to celebrate during times like these, but... others are, it eases their stresses to be with others.” After all, would the Italian king have been killed if it were not for his separation from the rest of the group? “Safety in numbers, no?”
“Well if you feel uncomfortable you can tell me and I’ll move,” she replied, looking over at him. “Believe it or not I’m not that rude of a person to intrude on their private time on purpose,” she chuckled, looking forward again. She let out a small sigh after a moment of silence, not enjoying how loud the party was and honestly she felt slightly uncomfortable here, not because of them but because of the whole situation. “I’m Soonee, by the way”
Taking another sip of their wine, Olivier shrugged, resisting the urge to drum their fingers against the side of their goblet. They didn’t want to appear impatient or irritated; they had their family’s name to uphold, even with the anonymity that the masks provided them. They raised their brows in surprise when she gave up her anonymity so quickly, though - was that the point of this? To trust people with your identity? She wished she’d understood masquerades more than she did. “Olivier,” they simply replied. A French name for a French prince, yes, but, to the untrained in the names of the French royal family, Olivier could be just another child of a Marquis or a Duc.
Ah, that voice, yes. Iyasu placed it immediately, and something in him settled a little. At least at the side of Olivier Iyasu knew who his conversation partner was. A true smile plucked at his lips as Olivier made it clear she knew who he was by dropping his title. It was not a surprise that they had identified him, but it showed a mixture of forthrightness and strength of personality to reveal that (and, he noted, some slyness in her method of revealing).
”I believe, young Prince, that you and I are the same in that matter. Besides, French dances are unknown to me.” They were pretty, though, even if they had far too many finicky steps for Iyasu’s taste. He could have rhythm, he was known to join in with eskista every now and then, but these gavottes had far too much in the way of leg work, and far too little in the way of drum.
Looking up at the king, Olivier gave a little smile in return. At least these conversations felt easy - it didn’t seem to Olivier that the king was trying to get anything out of them. Then again, they weren’t exactly an inept politician; that was Lucien’s job. “I admit... our dances can be... complex. It takes much time to learn.” Not that she had ever paid attention in any of her lessons, though. And then there was the plague, keeping them from dancing for many years, and now, the effects still lingered in their lungs. This cold season was uncomfortable enough - they didn’t need to strain themself any more by dancing. “What are your dances like at home?”
Yusef listened as the masked figure gave their take on the unfolding events, head nodding slightly as he took in the thoughts of the other. His eyes fell to the liquid contained within the goblet, its deep red color inviting and somehow transfixing within the moment. “Certainly. I can understand the thought process. And perhaps it would not be a poor idea, were the circumstances not as they are. While I see your point and process- after all, it is a longstanding thought there exists safety within numbers- I cannot bring myself to wholeheartedly agree.” Raising his head, the Sehzade gazed out upon the crowd, considering the phrasing of his following statement. While the mask planted upon his face worked a bit in his favor, he refused to allow himself the pleasure of speaking with absolute freedom. “What unnerves me most, perhaps, is that I believe an event like this to provide a golden opportunity to hide in plain sight, as I believe the adage goes. Personal guards and defenses have been lowered, that much is quite obvious, in favor of mingling and wishing for a quiet and joyous night. However, I cannot help but to wonder if those who have sought destruction and demise from the beginning will not take this as an opportunity for…Something. What, I am most assuredly uncertain. And,” He paused, turning to face the other. “Perhaps I am merely a cynic. Considering far too much, and at a far too in-depth rate. Either are viable statements, I can assure you. I am simply thinking aloud, as it were.” A smile played faintly at the corners of his lips. “I mean no offense, please understand. And, I cannot pretend to know what precisely I might do were the roles reversed. I only mean to say, concern is still present, more so than I enjoy.” At the masked stranger’s remark, Yusef laughed, a quick yet forceful chuckle emitted from his nostrils beneath his mask. “Your honesty is both refreshing and amusing, friend. And, as luck would have it, I harbor similar feelings myself. Then tell me, why is it you are here? Duty? Family? Or are you holding out hope that this event will take on some previously unrealized emotional form?”
Olivier shrugged at the thoughts that the other brought up. They weren’t exactly involved in the planning of this party - their mother and her ladies were in charge of party planning, and their father in charge of deciding what happened when it happened and what didn’t happen when it didn’t. Olivier was not one to cross their father - they didn’t want to experience his anger in any form, so they stayed quiet when he spoke to them, and stayed out of his way when he didn’t call for them specifically. She wasn’t sure if the other knew who he was speaking to - these masks and their anonymity - but she knew that she wasn’t going to outwardly say who she was, who her family was. Unless their accent had already given them away, which could be entirely possible, given how obviously French it was. Then again, there were plenty of other Frenchman at the ball. Olivier had spoken to a Marquis not an hour ago. “I am not sure what you mean by a previously unrealized emotional form, but... perhaps both duty and family. The rest of my family is here, required to be here, and so am I. But I care for them too deeply to allow them to end up hurt, so... I am keeping an eye out for them, now, as well.” As if they had any power to stop anyone who was trying to hurt any of his family members - Olivier was notoriously inept with a sword, not like Lucien in the slightest - but they could pretend like they could do something in an emergency; they liked to think that their lungs wouldn’t give out on them if they tried.
the prince tilted his head to the side. he had his own reasons for not dancing, namely the long can he had to carry around. milas was never much of a dancer, anyway- especially not at french masquerades. he was silent for a moment before agreeing with them. “the wine, i’ll admit is great company. i would request to bring some home with me, if we ever leave your country.”
“I am sure my family would be happy to assist in sending wine home with you when you leave,” he replied, looking over at the other prince. France’s wine was the best in the world, in Olivier’s opinion, despite how good the Italians claimed their wine to be; it would never compare to France’s. They also noticed his jab about if they ever left - Olivier wanted to make it clear that they would be leaving. They could not imagine spending the rest of their life without an ounce of privacy in their own home, could not imagine having to play host to this many people until they succumbed to Death’s kiss. “It is great company, no...? Better than any I’ve found.”
Sofia could understand the sentiment. She had always enjoyed social gatherings, the eloquence of balls, the opportunity to converse with others. But the talks had dragged on, the constant presence of so many people was overwhelming, and she had been on edge the entire night. It was exhausting, always looking out for potential trouble when everyone’s identity was a mystery. “I guess I will have to go for longer without my wine then,” she pointed out with a small shrug, lifting an imaginary cup in the air. “We all so sometimes. I certainly will not judge you for that.”
Olivier was hesitant to share their wine - they’d been nursing this glass for what felt like ages, for if they knew if they got another, it would certainly be one too many. They didn’t want to embarrass their family by getting too drunk at an event, no matter how wonderful that sounded, they had a name to uphold, a kingdom to represent. Maybe after all of this, she would sneak out into the city like she used to and share drinks with the commoners - if he could even manage sneaking out with the guard presence that seemed to be around them at all times now. But... they still had to play the good host. So they hesitantly offered their goblet over to her, their free hand coming to rest at the nape of their spine behind their back. “It is the best in the kingdom...”
“oh,” leopold said, nodding at the other person’s words. “i must have missed them.” leopold had never been the most aware of his surroundings; easily distracted, he had forced himself to stick to his mission of finding one of his siblings or madeleine, not allowing himself to observe what had been happening around him until he had given up on finding them. “though i wasn’t quite looking for them,” he explained to the masked stranger- for leo didn’t know if he knew the person, so he just thought of them as a stranger. they certainly weren’t austrian, based on accent alone, but that was all he could tell
They nodded at the other’s admission that he probably missed the servants. “I am sure you could find them if you went looking - or, if you desire to stay... one will wander by sooner or later.” They didn’t want to seem like a rude host - if people even knew that they were the prince Olivier. Sometimes, anonymity could be comforting. “It seems like you were looking for someone, though - was it just someone who could tell you where to find the wine?”
The young ruler was a mess. They hid it well, but Cristo’s eye was better trained than most. If Cristo only had a feeling who was behind the mask before, he without a doubt knew now. Prince Olivier seemed to become a shell of her former self the more and more his fantomes preyed on their family, on their country. But the country didn’t belong to Olivier and their family did it? “Good to hear, your highness,” He says, stepping away to scan the room for his own royal family. “I’ve heard preparations for rebuilding the stables are about to begin. If you need an extra man or two, I have some to spare. Wouldn’t want them getting lazy just standing by the doors of the tsar.”
Running her tongue over her upper teeth, Olivier tried to remain as composed as they can. It was hard carrying out conversations while it felt like their world was collapsing around them. He nodded in confirmation when the other said that he’d heard about preparations when it came to rebuilding the stables. That was bound to happen sooner or later, not that Olivier truly cared. The stables were likely their least favorite place on the palace grounds. The horses had never liked her, no matter what she did to try to change that. Even his own horse seemed to only accept him begrudgingly. “I am sure my father would be happy to hear the offer of men to assist,” they replied, adjusting their grip on their goblet. “But I am not the one to offer that to - I am in charge of nothing when it comes to... almost everything,” they admitted. “My father, my brother, my mother... they would be the best ones to offer your men to in assistance.”
She could see them against the wall and she felt bad, she didn’t want anyone to be alone during the party and, looking around, she realized no one either noticed or would join them in their solitude. Walking over, she managed to grab two goblets of wine and stood besides them. “Here,” she said, handing one to them, “it looks like you need it”
Blinking in surprise as another goblet of wine was offered to them, their right hand already carrying one, they don’t want to be rude and outright deny her, and... well, they were already planning on drinking another glass, so they just took it, one goblet in each hand. “Thank you...?” they replied, confused what she meant by the statement that it looked like they needed wine. “I... hope you are enjoying the celebrations.”
The ball seemed like a bad idea. Celebrations could be good chances for putting his best foot forward and changing the minds of those around him, but these masks… they seemed almost to invite danger.
Iyasu had never been a slight lad. Even as a child he had been a head above the other children his age, and as he grew into adulthood his shoulders had broadened, his spine had straightened, and his gut had expanded. Despite the mask, his identity was hard to conceal. He stuck out like a sore thumb, like an un-hammered nail. Yet just as easily as his presence was noticed, his absence would be recognised. After his long weeks of sickness, Iyasu could not afford to be missing from another event, even one as foolish as this.
In a room where you were an identifiable target, but all others were anonymous, it did well to keep your back to a wall. Knives could not stab through brick and plaster. So Iyasu kept to the sides of the ballroom, his back pressed up against the mirrors and panels, his hands empty of any possibly poisoned liquor. He trod the careful line between protecting himself, and putting on a show of his attendance.
Sliding along the walls to a new part of the hall’s edges, he paused as he found another doing much the same as he and keeping out of the main fray. His rings rubbed together as he folded his hands over his front.
”Do you not wish to join the dancing?” he asked, making conversation as if he were not similarly on edge.
Olivier recognized the king - much taller than much of the rest of their guests, and after having a conversation with him at their brother’s engagement dinner, as well as being pulled from their usual routine to greet him upon his arrival - they’d be a fool not to recognize him in this crowd. Shaking their head at the question, they took another sip of their wine, trying to feel less nervous about this whole event. “I am not really a dancer,” they replied - that was as simply as they could explain their situation. “But everyone who is seems to be having fun.” Their family did know how to celebrate, and Olivier wished that they could be celebrating along with them. They wished the sense of dread would leave them be for just one night. “Do you not wish to join the dancing, Your Majesty?”
even if there was a celebration to be had, daeshim was still on high alert. his attention, as always, was on those he knew he was responsible for. ignoring the unending feeling that he did not deserve to partake in any celebration, he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips at the sound of laughter and loud stomps from dancing people across the room. it seemed like a breath of fresh air, though daeshim knew better than to assume all was well just because there were a few extra of his fellow guards on duty.
feeling the presence of another near him now, daeshim did not need to study them long for him to know who it was. he’d spent far too much time with them to not know, and even at the guarded look from their body language, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “you do know it’s my job to look upon the crowd and assure everything is well?” he teased the prince, leaning back against the wall and matching his stance.
Looking over at the sound of another’s voice, a smile tugged at the corners of their lips. That voice was easily recognizable to Olivier - they’d know it anywhere. They’d known it since they were barely twelve years old, five years prior to the plague, over a decade ago now. The voice belonged to a man who seemed to be more of a father to them than their own father was. They could hear the lecture they’d get for admitting that now, though - your father is a busy man, Olivier, but he cares for you deeply. Olivier truly believed their father wouldn’t even know their name if they asked about it. Nevertheless, Daeshim was there - he’d always been there. Their body naturally gravitates towards his, wanting to lean against him, but not wanting to be seen as a child in the eyes of the crowd around them. “Well, I suppose I am making your job easier, Sir,” they reply, their voice soft, almost teasing. “Nothing has happened under my watch, after all.”
She accepted a dance with one of the attendees, deciding to enjoy herself for once but called it quits after one dance after realizing he was drunk. She may be eager for a good time but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with drunkards. “I see someone else has made friends with the wall,” she chuckled as she walked over to them and stood beside them. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you?”
What a funny phrase - made friends with the wall. Olivier had never heard it before. They shrugged in response, gesturing. “I am in no position to stop you,” they replied, raising the glass of wine in their hand to their lips, taking a sip, letting the feeling warm them inside. “I mostly just wanted some space from the dance floor,” Olivier admitted, looking down at his shoes. They missed when their home was near-empty, when the only people around them cared about them. It felt like he’d become nearly invisible with all of the guests, which left an ache inside of him that he wasn’t sure how to handle. “But I know I am not the only one who needs breaks.”
his hand rested on his cane, fingers nearly turning white from the pressure. though his face was behind a mask, light eyes scanned the ballroom. once a soldier, always a soldier. something about this masquerade was just taunting those who wished to do harm. he leaned against the wall and sighed, legs tired from standing. “you do not dance?” he asked, before turning towards the person besides him. “why?”
There were many answers to the other’s question. Olivier was in no mood to dance. Olivier had no dance partner, and would rather not be embarrassed by asking someone and being rejected. Olivier’s lungs had been significantly damaged while they suffered through the plague, and, therefore, dancing had to be done in short spurts, if at all. Instead of answering with any of those, though, they shrugged. “I suppose I am still waiting to find the proper partner,” they replied, looking over at him. “This wine has all of my attention. No one else has earned it.”
