[sealedsfate]

   𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 :          a  dependent multimuse blog affiliated  with  redsnowrp    —      penned by willow .   

featuring ;

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐯 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐯 𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐱

[heavyisthexxcrown]

Cesar let her words drift between them. In a fleeting moment, it felt like the iron that wrapped itself around his heart softened, as if freeing the boy he used to be, the child who found sanctuary in shadowed corners and stolen laughter. How long ago all of that was and how far things had twisted in change into something darker. Maybe he could find her, a thought that was jarring against his usual calculations. "That boy still hides inside ... though buried deep below with a stillness and newfound weight that must be worn," his voice was rough with memory, each syllable tasted like poison and balm.

His gaze dropped, the faintest crack dared to shatter his well worn armor. But just as he almost believed himself capable of baring his flesh, the metal constraints restrained him once more - reminding him of the throne that would sit empty, awaiting a rightful heir for its worthy occupation. The warmth dissipated, dissolved like mist only leaving a chilly coldness left behind.

"But he is not a man that this world demands. Not anymore. Thrones don't bend to dreams, and the past is a cruel place to linger." It was impossible to turn back the clock and walk backwards. What had happened was merely a sliver of time in a fantasy of another universe, one he couldn't allow himself to step back into.

His eyes lifted, colder but steady yet impossibly distant. "I've learned that joy is a luxury I'm no longer allowed. And you, too, must find. away to live in its absence." There were always great matters at hand, more urgent necessities worth a life - or a death. Cesar paused once more, eyes searching hers to read through them again. His voice slightly softened but his resolve remained iron clad, like an unmovable force that had already made up its resolution. "We aren’t children anymore, Alix. The life we once imagined ended the day we took our places. Everything else is just an illusion we can’t afford."

[sealedsfate]

the words cesar spoke carried more weight than all of the ink scribbled in the books that surrounded them combined. she didn’t dare speak when she saw the glimpse of the cesar she knew, afraid she might shatter the moment. alix had become rather good at breaking things over the years. there were chains holding him back, though, and how she wanted to break him free. in the blink of an eye, his demeanor changed and she saw a wall come up. alix had been naive to think things could go back to what they were. she was ever the idealist, and time and time again it ended up wounding her. she wondered if she’d ever learn. “can’t that boy be freed, if only a little bit? can’t you let him breathe, cesar? are you just going to eulogize him as if he isn’t still here in your heart?” alix hadn’t meant for her words to grow emotional, but she found herself pleading with him.

alix had always believed cesar would be an excellent ruler, even as a fun loving and occasionally rambunctious child. didn’t he deserve that? to be a king who had the love and loyalty of his people, but also be able to laugh and find joy in the little things each day? to have such a burden on his shoulders, one that drained him and turned him as stoic as carved marble, must have been heartbreaking for the boy she once knew.

“but who do you want to be?” her gaze met his, equal parts familiar and unrecognizable. “i don’t want you to lose yourself for the sake of others or for the sake of what is expected of you.” she’d trade it all for them to turn back time and live as carefree children again.

“we must live without joy?” her brows furrowed as she shook her head, “no, cesar. i won’t do it. it’s been stripped from me once before and i won’t let it happen again.” alix knew danger lurked in santicarno, but would it be so terrible to briefly cope with a return to her past? “i didn’t ask for this title, cesar,” her voice trembled as she pressed her back against the bookshelf she was hiding behind, sliding down to the floor in defeat. “i didn’t want to take this place, i want to go back to the way things were. i used to believe i could outrun it, the pain. but now it seems it’s waiting in every corner for me to appear, to latch itself onto my heart.” 

teary mist filled her eyes and she didn’t have the strength to wipe away the tear that fell down her cheek. “i saw you again, cesar. whether you wanted me to or not, i saw the boy i once knew.” another tear fell, “surely within these library walls we can be those children again?” still on the ground, alix leaned over to peek at cesar, her eyes filled with cautious hope, “can we forget the work out there for a few moments? i’m scared.”

[firstprinced]

Lizzy's ball look from 2.08

[vasilisadrozinova]

location: dining hall of the palace. open starter to everyone.

Everyone had seemed to take this whole unnatural occurrence far too seriously. For all they know or knew it could have easily been an elaborate trick, played upon them by the cardinals. It wasn't that she didn't take this seriously, but she wasn't about to let it ruin a perfectly good trip. Her dress, for one, had been the color of the richest, deepest ruby which under the candlelight strongly resembled the color of freshly spilt blood. Irony or providence? She couldn't tell, but she appreciated the dark humor of it. Reaching over to the pitcher of red wine, Vasilisa refilled her goblet before turning towards her noble companion. The seating charts were certainly so very random, she thought as she glanced at odd, miss-matched pairs thrown together. To promote diplomacy or to instill chaos? Perhaps both.

"I expect amusement and fun, but I cannot say I've expect this to occur." she said with a hint of amusement so clear in her voice. "Oh, pardon me, do you want a refill as well?" she remembered to ask her seating-companion before setting the down the pitcher. "At least the wine is good and the feast is lavish, but I wouldn't have expect anything less from the holy men."

[sealedsfate]

heracles stood at the edge of candlelight, stiff as a statue clothed in velvet and hidden just enough to not draw attention to himself. he had been determined to go unnoticed in santicarno, but even more so now that the haunting voice booming the words, ‘thirty-three days,’ echoed in his mind like a ghostly lullaby. he’d much rather be back in england, hiding away in the library with his dogs. heracles had never been one for social gatherings, he felt far too timid and uncomfortable. this one dripped with metaphorical blood that the cardinals seemed keen on disguising beneath gaudy decor, endless wine, and the grandest buffet table heracles had ever seen.

he hadn’t realized he was standing so close to another until he heard her voice. glancing up, he was met with lovely brown eyes that made his heart stop and a blush bloomed across his cheeks. heracles wasn’t used to speaking to others, his mother had instilled how important it was for him to be seen and not heard. “oh…” he held his empty goblet up, “if you wouldn’t mind.” shifting on his feet, his eyes scanned the room, “its twisted, isn’t it? to be celebrating after such a…chilling…event?”

[sealedsfate]

closed starter with : @amritavalli location : the courtyard

moonlight was the only thing lighting heracles’ way as he stepped into the courtyard, the quiet whisper of night had covered santicarno like a blanket. and as night descended, heracles had slipped out of the masquerade ball, seemingly unnoticed as he searched for his dreams underneath the stars. his fist clenched the fabric of his forest green embellished cloak, fingers flexing to find something to anchor himself with.

alone, finally. he no longer had to fake smiles, fake appearances, nor try to impress his father who would never happily accept him as heir. heracles knew his issues were champagne problems at the end of the day and that he should be more grateful for his position. heracles was lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts and didn't hear someone join him in the courtyard until footsteps clicked on the stone behind him, assuming it was his mother, heracles sighed, "i'll be back inside soon. i promise."

[moonvcils]

who. diane de montclair & whomever. open starter.where. the chapel. when. during the masquerade.

she just needed a moment alone. a moment to acknowledge what had transpired tonight and make peace with it, if only to get on with the rest of the night. to be the beautiful and poised lady of the court, who charmed many noble men and women with nothing more then a smile.

and then later, when she was in a warm bath and blissfully alone, she could truly accept and react to the biblical event that she had witnessed.

it had been a long while since she sat with her faith. perhaps events of the past had caused her to grow distant from god and the all knowing path he laid in front of her. but after today, she found it was within his holy walls that she finally felt a sense of comfort and peace.

the ornate rosary that was clasped between her hands ground her to this moment. with one final prayer, a request of clarity and protection, the brunette rose to leave. she was in the process of fixing the mask back upon her face when she noticed she was not alone. "it seems i am not the only one who sought guidance in a time like this?"

[sealedsfate]

alix hadn't felt this kind of fear since the night tragedy shattered her family. the roaring voice, the red ashes drifting from the sky - it stirred something deep within her, like trees bending in the wind before a storm. she feared the greatest storm of all was drawing near, and she could no longer fake her smiles or hold her composure in the stuffy ballroom. she needed an escape.

slipping out, alix tore the mask from her face as she pondered where to turn. diane. she'd become quite the source of comfort for alix, and alix knew exactly where she'd find her.

not bothering to keep quiet, alix pulled the hem of her dress up and ran down the cold, marble hallway towards the chapel. with the wind blowing through her hair, her dark curls fell from her updo and alix felt alive. she giggled to herself, almost deliriously, before her feet came to a stop in front of the chapel doors.

she hesitated in the doorway, half-hidden in the night for just a moment before the warmth of flickering candles and the comforting sight of diane pulled her inside. each step she took clicked, and she hoped she wasn't disrupting the other. the chapel seemed so much different in the pale moonlight following the fear that had struck the palace. the chapel was still sacred, but a haunting veil seemed to settle in the air. 

as diane turned, a warm smile pulled on alix's lips. "i was searching for guidance," she nodded, taking a step closer, "but not from a heavenly being. from you."

[heavyisthexxcrown]

It would be easier to dislike her if she still held herself with such poise and etiquette. He wondered if her path would have been different had not such a tragedy mar her life. "There's no need for such formalities, we're not entirely strangers," he murmured. Yet despite his remark, there was still an iciness in every syllable that fell from his lips - as if the distance was more than mountains apart.

He wondered how she could have become something so entirely different. In their past, she was full life and enthusiasm and yet, the woman before him paled in comparison - as if every color that used to spin around her dulled, like a forgotten portrait hidden in a corner. His gaze was pointed, piercing as if he were trying to look through her, past whatever excuse she was mustering now.

"I don't know if I believe you."

He glanced away, back towards the books - scanning through only to be met with much disappointment. All were familiar titles he had already read through before. "I came looking for answers, not wine soaked laughter. I’ve never had the patience for festivities. Once the masks slip and the drink takes over, it’s all noise."

His attention turned to her, softer this time. “You used to hate it too.”

His voice was almost nostalgic, like he wasn’t speaking to the woman in front of him but to a version of her that no longer existed. “You’d sneak out before the second course,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Said you’d rather spend the evening with a good book than pretend to laugh at court gossip.” He paused, eyes drifting to the flickering candlelight between them.

“I remember.” And then silence followed.

[sealedsfate]

“not strangers, no,” she whispered, her voice quivering ever so slightly and she cursed herself for it. “just stars who haven’t crossed paths in ages,” musing as a soft smile curved onto her lips as she searched for her composure once more. alix could feel his gaze as if it were a lantern held too close, unveiling the parts of her that she’d gotten so skilled at hiding. but the veil fell in his presence, for the friend who had known her before the black mourning dresses, the empty rooms, and the lack of laughter that had once surrounded her. sadness had become a constant companion most days, but in her heart, alix still held onto her idyllic dreams. and on the outside, she’d been taught to smile, to feign bliss. but cesar saw right through it. she watched as the candlelight of the library flickered across his face, the edges of his jaw sharpened by time and distance, but something in his eyes was painfully familiar, as if he were searching for a ghost, someone who’d once lived and breathed much differently than alix did now. 

she cut her eyes playfully.

“perhaps,” she hummed, glancing at the bookshelf and carefully pulling the odyssey from where it had rested, dust falling from the book as she begun to flip to the first page, “i was just looking for my good friend, odysseus. he and i haven’t seen each other in far too long.” 

the sudden gentleness that flickered in cesar’s eyes caused her heart to skip a beat. it was as if she got a glimpse through the window of time, seeing the cesar she knew as a girl.

“why do you think i’m here, hmm?” she questioned, a teasing grin growing on her face, “i still hate it.” a fond giggle fell from her lips - the first that had since she’d arrived in santicarno. “i’d always slip back in for dessert though,” alix pointed out, a twinkle in her eyes lighting up, “that hasn’t changed.” even if seemed like everything else had changed. 

“she’s still here,” her voice was soft, as if she weren’t certain of her words. but after a lingering pause, alix’s eyes met cesar’s and a slow smirk pulled on her lips. “that girl who used to make you find her in her favorite hiding spots,” she hummed, keeping the copy of the odyssey against her chest as her feet slowly took her towards the corner of a nearby bookshelf where she slipped out of view behind it. “i’m certain that you could find her, cesar,” her laughter rang through the quiet library, “that is…if you still like to have fun.”

[sealedsfate]

closed starter with : @movrniing where : in the vyelobanin quarters .

lev was a tempest, a storm that crashes suddenly and without warning, dressed in the finest clothes and the loopiest grin. he’d successfully gotten a tray of sweets from the kitchen and was carrying it in one hand, while the other stuffed a tart in his mouth. he’d already become a frequent visitor of the kitchens in the palace, befriending the baker who had quickly begun to dote on him as if he were her own son. once lev had made it to the end of the stone hallway, he creaked open the door to misha’s chambers, announcing his presence with his laughter that boomed through the room and echoed off every wall.

the room was warmed by the crackling embers in the fireplace and lev’s eyes landed on his friend, who was reading on a settee. gesturing to the tray in his hands, lev stepped forward rather clumsily, and handed it to misha with a beaming smile, “lucky for you, i have become excellent friends with the baker.” he dropped into the settee next to misha, his feet pulled up onto the cushions and exhaled softly, resting his head backwards. “i like it in here,” he mused after a few moments as he glanced towards the other, “it’s quiet. why is it so quiet in here?”

[sealedsfate]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

name:    heracles asher of valebury.

age:    twenty-five.

gender:    cis    man .

pronouns:    he ,   him .

orientation:    bisexual / biromantic .

 title:    crown prince of valebury .

 house:    house asher of england .

personality traits:        gentle , obedient , empathetic , loyal , reticent , insecure , & quiet .

hobbies:       archery , reading , spending time with his dogs , preparing to be the future king .

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

the crackling of a dying fire , feeling alone in a crowded room , learning to be seen and not heard , the jagged side of a cliff's edge , grieving your youth , not recognizing yourself in the mirror , & early morning fog covering the ground .

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 .

his birth brought in new joy for queen agatha, and a pang of anger for king arthur. agatha doted over heracles, her one son and her and arthur's heir. heracles' birth tipped the house of asher on its head, changing the line of succession completely. the king's first born son was the apple of his eye and heracles had gotten in the way.

heracles feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and perhaps he's being dramatic in thinking so - but he believes his elder half-brother, thaddeus, deserves the title of 'crown prince.' not only is thaddeus the rightful heir in heracles' eyes, but heracles simply doesn't want the title. his mother, queen agatha, has trained him to keep quiet, to be seen and not heard, and to never speak against the cruel rumors that circulate about thaddeus. his heart tells him he needs to take a stand and protect thaddeus from it all - and to even urge his father to give the title back to thaddues, but he fears what his mother will say. heracles has always been a mother's boy and despite the fact that he often disagrees with her, he never vocalizes it because he wants to make her happy. he's torn inside, he spends his days ruminating, what is he to do?

heracles' eyes are often filled with worry, and he carries himself with a lack of confidence. insecure, sad, and weak-willed - he's not fit to be king one day. but his counsel, especially his mother, are determined to shape him into a future king. part of heracles wants to rebel, but the other half desires not to disrupt things and he's unsure of which side of him will win.

[delightfxll]

open starter. located at the ball , before the stroke of midnight.

Goblet in hand , ash-grey dress donned and an equally pewter colored mask fastened at the face , Bianca wondered if it had been a stroke of irony or an otherwordly providence that had inspired such an outifit from her. Her usual colors were black and deep red , a dash of regal purple to make her presence more domineering , especially when she was feigning another mad spell to avoid a particularly persistent suitor. It had seemed so childish now. She was meant to marry one of these lords , many of them throughout the years to be frank , but they have all been terrified. She could see their fear and feel it , taste it in the dense air of the crowded , too hot a room for the middle of October.

"It all seems so unrealistic , do you not agree ?" she asked the masked individual hovering by the mulled-wine table she had remained leaning against. It was not her intention to hoggle the spot , but she did not feel like dancing. "That were are celebrating here while that strange thing falls from the sky. It seems almost cruel. Do you think it is still falling ?"

[sealedsfate]

with a skillfully swiped bottle of wine in one hand and a string of grapes in the other, lev had found himself bored to into a yawning fit whilst talking with an elderly man representing, oh he couldn’t remember the country, all he knew was that he had to escape. he was tired, the kind of tired that settled deep, worsened by the lingering fear left behind after that booming voice had mentioned thirty-three days. as much as lev loved a celebration —and trust, he did —this one felt hollow, like a party thrown on a sinking ship.

a soft voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, and he turned. his eyes landed on a woman with dark, gleaming hair that looked like it had captured stars from the night sky. he nodded slowly, shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug. “i love a party, i love wine, but this feels ridiculous,” he said. after a sip from the bottle, he wrinkled his nose in thought. “i suppose we’ll know more when the sun comes up.” he raised the bottle again, taking a long swig, then wiped the wine from his lips with little care for appearances. glancing at her goblet, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “need a refill?”

[amritavalli]

where: a garden in Russia when: prologue - a few years before 1333 who: (lev) @sealedsfate

The Russian winds of October gnaw at her like a relentless puppy, satisfying itself only when her fingers and toes go numb from the cold. The first signs of fall amuse her, turning leaves calling her name at every turn. And yet, there's a constant itch in her soul she can't quite scratch, a hollow space begging to be filled. Was this the curse of knowledge? Ignorance, it seemed, was a valuable resource in its own right, one that she'd lost many years ago.

She could taste the desperation on her tongue — just another hit would do, but she'd promised Misha she'd wait to do it with him, and being a Saturday, it meant that she had two more agonizing days to get through sober before she could find relief. So instead, she's taken to running around the gardens barefoot like a fool, lungs burning from both the chill of the air and the heat of physical exertion.

"Come join me!" she calls out, in broken Russian, to the blur of a stranger she'd just noticed in the corner of her eye, panting slightly as she slows down to take a proper look at him.

"It's a beautiful day for a few rounds around the garden, is it not?" she manages, between gasps of air, with a grin.

[sealedsfate]

the crisp air of fall wrapped around him and he felt it making its way into his lungs. autumn had cloaked russia in a red and orange, and the mist and mystery covering the ground were enough to take lev’s breath away. lev loved this time of year, the art of change in the world around him. his back was against a willow tree, dead leaves falling to the ground around him as he attempted to scribble poetry on some parchment. he’d been at it for what felt like hours, but he had no muse, no one to inspire him. until he saw her.

barefoot, running, and free. a vision of beauty, wild with a laughter. lev tossed his book of parchment to the ground as he watched her, arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his lips. her dark hair seemed to capture the orange glow of the sun as if she was the only one who the sun decided to shine on. when she called out to him, lev noticed the laughter and exhaustion that simultaneously laced her voice and her cheeks were flushed from the cold air and something more. perhaps it was defiance or a need for escape. and lev was enthralled.

slowly and rather lazily, lev pushed off the tree and walked towards her as if she had control over his every move. leaves crunched beneath his feet and his smile widened as he noticed the chaos in her eyes and he was drawn into it. maybe they were twin flames, with chaos that surrounded both of them. his cheeks turned pink as he neared her, whether it was from the chilled air or the sudden realization that her eyes were on him.

“i’d be honored to join you,” he beamed, a boisterous laugh falling from his lips as he clumsily took off his shoes and jacket. he didn’t want either slowing him down. it wouldn’t be the first time lev had run through the gardens. no, he often escaped his mother’s attempts at matchmaking him by running as if he were a child again. a stray hair had fallen into the stranger’s face and lev’s fingers reached forwards to tuck it behind her ear. his voice lowered, as if he were sharing a secret with her. “but you must tell me what you’re running from,” a smirk pulled on his lips, “and what your name is.”

[sealedsfate]

closed starter with : @rafedelcampo location : the gardens

santicarno was a far cry from home and alix felt frightened, unmoored, and out of place. she busied herself with the riches adorning her neck, her delicate fingers smoothing over the jewels as if they would offer her solace as she slipped out of the palace and into the garden. nature had been her form of escape since she was a young girl and no title would change that. and while she preferred the damp forest floor under her bare feet, the sound of babbling creeks, and being surrounded by trees with sunlight dappling across her skin, the garden would be a welcome substitute. she felt at home amongst flowers, wrapped in their sweet scent and calmed by their gentle presence. she could feel alone without being lonely. each flower was a silent and steady companion, and alix made sure to dust each one off delicately, removing the red ash that had accumulated on petals to let the flowers breathe again. and perhaps she shouldn’t have, but one particular rose stood out to her and alix glanced around before plucking it and bringing it to her nose to anchor herself to the moment, to santicarno.

humming to herself, she turned a corner and spotted a tall figure, sketchbook in hand and pacing back and forth as he studied the flowers, still covered in red ash. his tongue was sticking out in concentration as he sketched and alix thought this moment might’ve been one of the most enamoring things she had ever seen. while she’d never been a talented artist, her eldest brother used to draw and paint beautiful forest scenes for her that she had displayed across her bedroom. that is, until the fire destroyed them and her whole world turned to ashes.there was a sharp ache in her chest as she yearned for happier times. but, she had to mask it and pretend she was happy.

“i don’t mean to disturb your peace,” she spoke, her voice as soft as the flowers dancing in the wind. alix hesitantly stepped closer to the tall young man. a smile curved onto her lips, a few curls falling into her face as she looked up at him. a blush bloomed across her cheeks as she studied him. the rose she’d plucked was still in her hand and she quickly moved it behind her back. she really shouldn’t have stolen it from the garden. enchantment threaded through her lashes as she tilted her head to the side, “do we have an artist amongst us in santicarno?”

[gcladriel]

LIZZY ELMSWORTH The Buccaneers, 2.03

[sharvanibhatti]

location: garden, by the greenhouse. open starter to everyone.

The flowers still smelled wonderfully, in spite of the thin layer of red ash coating them. It felt like ash, it smelled like ash, but she wasn't entirely sure it was ash. At least once she dusted the petals of a rose, she found the flower possessing its usual fragrance. She was still in the middle of processing the events -- the demonic voice hissing at the from the above had been center figure of her worry. Though, she couldn't quite say why she had been so worried -- the pope's disappearance and the conclave panicking about this affair had not really been her problem. If Shiva wished to see their end to restore the better humanity, then so be it.

Footsteps had drawn her attention from the lush, evergreen flowers and trees. A greeting smile upon her lips, Sharvani turned towards the intruder. She had longed for some solitude after such a long sail and ride to Santicarno, and the bath she took did little to truly relax her. At least the change of clothes had been welcome. Still, she did not mind the company, once provided. "I would have thought the ash to harm the blooms, though I am happy to see they've been spared of divine wrath. Have you come to enjoy the scenery or escape the anxiety in the room?" she asked.

[sealedsfate]

lev volskayov didn’t belong in a quiet garden, it was as simple as that. he immediately  bumped into an old bust of someone who was likely important, though he had no idea who it was, and lev promptly and boisterously issued an apology to it. the way the sunlight spilled over the garden like gold was breathtaking, but he was certain his clumsy footsteps would awaken the flowers who seemed to be still under the soft weight of ash. could it be that they were grieving the absence of the pope as well? lev’s not so delicate fingers drug along soft petals, attempting to shake them free of ash. as he turned a corner, his gaze fell on a woman admiring a rose and the quirk of a grin pulled on his lips, “enthralled are you?” he stepped closer, never having been one for leaving others in peace. 

as she turned, lev’s eyes lit up. sharvani, a woman who bloomed more beautifully than any flower in the garden. lev’s heart hammered in his chest as the grin on his lips grew. “lady bhatti,” he mused, dipping his head in greeting, “you look as radiant as ever.” his gaze flickered to the flowers that surrounded them then back to her. a soft, barely noticeable blush dappled his cheeks. “i came to escape the insufferable anxiety of the room,” a soft hum as a smirk curved onto his lips, “though, i have found the most captivating of beauties. so, it seems i’m staying for the scenery. and what about yourself?”

[heavyisthexxcrown]

location: the library with: @sealedsfate

He needed a distraction and what better place for that than the library? There were certainly a massive amount of books carefully archived and slotted on the shelves, his fingers trailing through all of them hoping to find something he hadn't yet read. He had come here to relish in the peace and quiet of being away from any family. Though, perhaps he wasn't the only one with that sentiment in mind.

He hadn't expected to run into her - not after all this time.

They were friendly when they were children, and he had thought her sweet. But how things had changed with the passage of time. He had written her a letter to offer her his condolences when he had heard of the unfortunate news of her family tragedy. Contents in the letter were far removed from who he once was as a child: hopeful, optimistic and sweet. The years had ruined all those soft traits and he had become hardened, stoic and calculating. Softness wasn't suitable for those who sought to rule the throne.

She looked different.

"Ah - I didn't expect to see you here." His jaw tensed at the awkwardness. He had heard plenty of rumors, especially given that his sister was now Queen of the french court. He wondered if the gossip was true and that she had fallen victim as another fool for the manwhore king of france. "Were you looking for someone?" An unspoken accusation that mayhaps the library was a rendezvous for her and the damned lover King. He couldn't help himself, surely there was some level of truth in those whispers.

In a way, he pitied her. But even with all the pity in the world, he had little interest with being involved with whatever circumstances she chose to pursue, even if he found it distasteful.

[sealedsfate]

the smell of ink and parchment wrapped around alix as if it were welcoming her like an old friend. she’s grown tired of chatter, endless conversations, and forcing smiles. the library was a place that demanded silence, which was a welcome distraction for her. and she could find an escape amongst pages, in words so beautifully written and in a world that wasn’t her own. delicate fingers danced upon the spines of countless books as she carefully chose one to lose herself in. one caught her eye, but almost as swiftly as she’d opened it something stirred in the corner of her eye. 

alix’s heart lost its slow, rhythmic melody, speeding up to a tempo that threatened to consume her. cesar.

memories washed over her like waves lapping against a rocky cliff — things she’d forgotten about before her life had been flipped upside down. as a child cesar was always so kind to her, he always made sure she felt included and seen. but, time seemed to hum between them, reminding her that they’d both changed. they weren’t free to run and laugh alongside one another like they had before. childhood had slipped through their fingers. 

he was mature, elegant, and just as handsome as he’d always been, wielding the kind of stoic presence that captured an audience. 

dipping into a slow, practiced curtsy, alix bowed her head before rising again. a soft smile slipped onto her lips as she greeted him, “your royal highness.” she saw the way his jaw clenched, she recognized the look in his eyes. she'd seen it before, but never from someone she'd once called a friend and alix felt herself shrink, desperately wishing she could disappear. she knew her relationship with henri was often deemed shameful and it felt like a betrayal to the queen, cesar's beloved sister, but she was in far too deep. her gaze fell to the floor as she closed the book in her hands.

"i was looking for somewhere to breathe," alix explained, daring herself to look at cesar again, "i wasn't looking for anyone. not really." her fingers tapped the book as she tilted her head curiously, eager to force the conversation elsewhere. "what brought you to the library?" she asked, "won't you be missed?"

[sealedsfate]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

name:    alix charbonneux .

 age:   twenty-four .

 gender:    cis    woman .

 pronouns:    she ,   her .

 orientation:    bisexual / biromantic .

 title:    duchess of veroux .

 house:    montverre of france .

personality traits:        saccharine , naive , fickle , sensitive , avoidant , & guarded .

hobbies:        exploring nature , reading , daydreaming , dancing when no one is watching .

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

flirty smiles , words as sweet as honey , muddy hems of dresses , running barefoot in nature , waltzing across memories , sleeping in late , hiding hurt behind layers of new clothing and jewelry , daydreaming of love , missing loved ones with an sharp pain that never dulls .

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 .

tw : mention of familial death & fire .

all of the riches in the world nor the title of duchess could give alix back what she'd lost in the fire that fateful night — her parents and her two younger siblings, who were her entire world. she blames herself for it, and she will never forgive herself. alix had always found joy in escaping and in running free, so she often slipped out of the family home well into the early hours of the morning, exploring the forests on their land with a lantern in her hand. she found peace as she walked along the bubbling creek with her feet in the dirt — and she'd always return home before her parents woke up, with a muddy and torn hem of her dress, broken shoes, and twigs in her curly hair.

this night had been no different, until alix saw the fire from a distance. she ran home as soon as she saw the smoke billowing and she fought her way inside, crying for her family. as her childhood home crumbled around her, alix came to the gut-wrenching realization that her family was gone, and she had failed them. she was left behind.

alix's new life as a duchess has brought far more pain than comfort, but she's grateful for what she's been given. but — she hates that the title has come with attention, the girl who loves to escape can't slip away quite as easily as a duchess, though she's found new ways around it. when it all gets to be too much, she finds herself in forests and fields hiding amongst the flowers and the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.

life at court has been an adjustment, and alix is haunted by all she's lost — but, she's learned to smother her emotions behind the batting of her lashes, toying with hearts ( even king henri's ), and donning the newest fashions. with her new title she's painfully aware she must marry well and that terrifies her. her parents were madly in love, and alix fears that she'll never find that kind of love at court.

alix is soft and sensitive, but puts a guard up in order to protect herself from losing more than she already has. for now, she'll hide behind glossy smiles and melodious laughter, playing into a facade of intrigue, and dream of days spent reading in the forest.

[sealedsfate]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

name:    lev volksayov .

 age:    thirty-three .

 gender:    cis    man .

 pronouns:    he ,   him .

 orientation:    bisexual / biromantic .

 title:    count of tarnova .

 title:    house vyelobanin of russia .

personality traits:        charming , gregarious , warm , affectionate , reckless , & boisterous .

hobbies:        reading poetry , making new friends , traveling , avoiding responsibilities , horseback riding .

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

loopy smiles , laughter that echoes through the hallways , the warmth of the sun , never taking anything seriously , whiskey running through your veins , being too afraid to love , watching life pass you by .

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 .

chaos. wherever lev goes, chaos follows and it's wrapped in a charming smile. it's been that way since he was a young boy — never able to keep still, never taking anything seriously, and always running from responsibilities. his father would often pinch the bridge of his own nose and sigh whenever lev walked into the room with a loopy grin on his lips.

it was clear to lev that his father didn't think much of him — his father was cold, dark, and impatient whenever lev was around and referred to his son as 'hopeless'. while lev met that word with an innocent smile, it stuck with him. and while he didn't have the best relationship with his father, lev saw how much the man loved his mother — and that always gave him peace.

lev's mother, who he adores, is renowned for the matches she makes and he's always known she'd force him into one, so he became quite artful in the way he dodged and sabotaged every match she threw his way. not because he doesn't want love one day, but because he's scared of being seen — scared of being loved.

lev figures he was never meant to be great, so he hides his insecurities behind nice clothes and infectious grins. it's all harmless — all of the flirting and charm — it's lev's way of testing the waters, of letting himself feel parts of infatuation without ever allowing himself to fall in love because he's terrified of it. he's frightened by the idea of someone every seeing all of him, seeing who he is in his best moments and his worst moments, because deep down he doesn't believe he's capable of being loved.

he can't stand being alone. lev is gregarious and lively — always surrounded by people and always making them swoon in his presence. and perhaps its all because he's too scared of being alone with himself and of learning whether or not he's truly hopeless, like his father thought. lev was born with such a need to give love and a need to receive love, but he holds himself back. with each match he sabotages, though, he sees the pain in his mother's eyes and it breaks his heart. lev wonders if he's starting to crack.