welp i'm way fucking late to the party and this fandom is essentially dead but this fucking podcast is taking over my whole goddamn life so i'm making YET ANOTHER blog just for the two princes and i am going to do a liveblog of my third relisten whenever that happens anyway if anyone sees this post i love you
Bro what if.. what if season 3 of The Two Princes ends with Rupert and Amir's wedding... and the priest says "you may now kiss the groom".... and both of them go "I thought you'd never ask" and then they kiss 🥺🥺🥺
I’m probably taking the notes on my Beauty and the Beast AU and turning that into an original fic but because I love the idea of Beast!Rupert and Beauty!Amir, have a little something.
“I don’t want any favors from him! He’d have left my mother to rot in that tower.” His voice echoed in the large room the Beast left him in. It was easily the size of his mother’s cottage back on the edge of town. That thought only reminded him of home and of the hopelessness of his situation.
He’d come to find his mother. She’d gone to the city to try and salvage the last of his father’s assets but hadn’t returned. Her horse was back before nightfall, not enough time for her to have made it far. The only thing in the area was an old ruin that no villager dared come near.
That ruined facade was an illusion. A blatant bit of magic once the daring young man crossed into the courtyard. Although the castle it hid was somehow more frightening than the facade was. Gargoyles and gray stone, forbidding and foreboding, this place itself would refuse visitors.
After that it was the sound of his mother weeping that carried on the wind and lead him to her. On sight, she ordered him to leave but he hadn’t listened. The Beast arrived then and, unarmed and unprepared, Amir had done the only thing he could. He exchanged his life for his mother’s. She’d begged and cried but the deal was done and before Amir could hold her and say goodbye, she was gone.
Upon the Beast’s assurance she would be physically fine, Amir moved to enter her cell. Crossing through the door had only lead him to this room. Very much not a cell. Lavishly furnished, although the furniture was of an older antique style. Amir admired the canopy bed large enough to swim in the silk sheets. But the frightful appearance of the Beast, the magic of this place and the temporary reunion with his mother took its toll.
In his grief, he heard a scratching. And there upon the desk a quill pen wrote out words of encouragement. Astonished, Amir made to write back, but the pen assured him it had ears, but no voice. An unseen and unseeable servant spoke with him in ink.
[Our circumstances are quite severe, Master Amir. My Prince is under a dreadful curse. Inflicted while he was young and uncaring.]
“So that gives him right to inflict himself upon others?” Amir asked. “And why call him your prince? The king and queen have many sons but none of them beasts!”
The pen swirled and swished as if in an agitated hand. Finally, it responded. [On the subject of inflicting, I fear you are correct. It is early yet, please trust that my Prince’s heart will soften. And on the subject of My Prince, he is the King’s youngest son, sent away here as a child to avoid the war.]
“The war ended five years ago! Would the king and queen forget their own son?” Amir asked, incredulous.
[I fear that too is also a consequence of this curse. Our suppliers, our local contacts, none have even so much as approached this castle. It is as though we have been forgotten. On a personal note, I fear my husband has forgotten me, back in the royal city.]
“I’m. I’m sorry for you, Quill Pen. Do you have a name? Calling you a quill pen seems a bit impersonal.”
[Quill suits me fine. I wasn’t fond of my old name anyway. And my Prince has never used any name for me but servant anyway.]
“Shouldn’t there be more than you? Other servants? Even a youngest born prince would have a castle full.”
[They are all here. They may only interact with objects related to their station. I wrote many things for the upkeep of this castle. Inventories, invitations, orders and receipts and more. Thus I can hold pen and paper. We have only one other ability and that is to instantly be anywhere we are needed to be.]
“Then one of you took my mother away before I could say goodbye? And then another brought me here?”
[I am sorry. You should have had time to say goodbye. I think it likely the servant who took her was most interested to see how far from the castle they could get by following an order to take someone away. I once made it past the main gate and across the drawbridge before I found myself suddenly in the kitchens.]
“Well, we’re both trapped now. Your prince could likely order a servant to retrieve me even if I tried to escape.”
A knock on the door echoed in the large room. Amir took a breath and looked back at Quill. The pen pointed at the door. Amir sighed and looked back at the door. “Why bother with courtesy? This whole place and everyone in it is yours to serve at your will.”
A pause. The door cracked a bit. Amir flinched at the eyes that reflected a bit of the light from inside the room, like a cat’s eyes. “Please, forgive me, I have treated you unkindly.”
“You are a great Beast. Why play at being a timid thing now?”
The Beast let out a low rumble that could have either been a growl or a sigh. “Please don’t call me a Beast.”
Amir stood and stamped his foot. “That’s what you are though! A beast who took my mother away, imprisoned her here and then made me trade my life for hers to release her!”
“I would have let her go at just your request. You brought up the trade.”
“I thought it sure you meant to kill her, having her there locked in a cell!”
“I had to be sure that someone would come for her. My servants can’t be everywhere and she nearly escaped three times in one day. She is very clever, your mother.”
“She’s the cleverest and the best and I’m a fool. Can I simply ask to leave then? Would you let me go if I asked?”
“I-I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“No, ask my servant. That pen there.”
“Quill. She...he...?” Amir stopped in his thought. Turning to Quill, Amir asked, “Actually, Quill what are you? Or were you? Man or woman?”
[I forget. Use “they” instead of He or She]
“You forget?” The pen simply swirled the feather about.
“Servant, tell him I can’t let him go.”
“Their name is Quill and don’t just order them around like that!”
“But it’s my servant...”
“They’re!”
“Where?”
“No, not there. ‘They’re’ as in ‘they are!’”
“Who is?”
“Quill is!”
“Quill is what?”
“Quill might be your servant but you should refer to them by a proper name and you shouldn’t order them around like that!”
[Please! Don’t go to all this trouble arguing for me!]
“Quill, please tell him why I can’t let him go.”
“See was that so hard?” Amir asked. The Beast huffed and folded his arms over his chest.
[Unfortunately, if you pledged your life to My Prince, the curse won’t let you leave. That’s why all the servants are stuck here. We swore to serve the prince.]
“Will I disappear? Turn into some ghost who can only push a broom around?”
[I don’t know, actually.]
“You agreed to this deal, too. You knew it could mean I was stuck here and you let it happen! Just when I thought you couldn’t be more contemptible! You tricked me, beast!”
“Please call me Your Highness. If you can call my servant Quill, you can call me something nice too.”
“How about I call you Fluffy?”
“I had a cat named that once.”
“What happened? Did you eat it?”
“I’m not a monster! I just...I just look like one. You-you’re being mean to me. I came to say sorry! It all happened so fast I wasn’t thinking. I was just so lonely and-and I thought if you wanted to stay here then we could b-be friends...”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Beast. I’ll think about your apology.”
“Please, just one thing.”
“What, Your Beastness?”
“May I have the honor of knowing your name?”
“Is this more trickery? The stories all say the faeries can do all sort of horrible things to you once they know your name.”
“Fine then you may lie to me. If I must call a floating feather ‘Quill’ then I must have something to call you.”
“Did you ask my mother what her name was? Did her life mean anything to you or was she just bait to you?”
“She wouldn’t tell me her name either. I stopped trying to talk to her. She yelled at me a lot.”
“No less than you deserved. Call me anything.”
“Then I will call you Fitzroy.”
“Fitzroy? I thought your cats name was Fluffy.”
“It was. Fitzroy was my dog.”
“So now I’m a dog to you? Should I scurry on all fours and beg you?”
“N-no! I-I didn’t mean it like that! It was just the first name I thought of, I swear! How about Fitz?”
“You just gave me a name and now you want to shorten it?”
“Can I do nothing right? I said I was sorry!”
“And I said I would think about it, Beast!”
“Rupert!”
“I thought my name was Fitz, now you want to call me Rupert?”
“No! My name is Rupert! Prince Rupert, the First.”
“Shouldn’t it be the Last if you were the youngest?”
“You would complain about anything! There is no pleasing you. I’m really sorry! Doesn’t that mean anything anymore? I never used to say it and now I’ve said it more than in any other conversation.”
“Good for you! I guess when you’re a pampered prince it wouldn’t occur to you to even feel sorry. Now can you stop trying to please me and say sorry to me and just leave me be?”
“Fine! But no dinner for you! And I had the cook make my favorites and all the best desserts he could! But I won’t share my table with someone who calls me mean names!”
“Fine by me!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
“Fine.”
Amir ignored the watery eyes the Beast Prince Rupert gave him before he turned and left Amir’s room. His eyes caught on Quill, the pen laying down on the desk by the bed.
“Are you staying here all night?” The pen made no move. Amir poked at it, but it fell off the desk. Hurriedly, he picked up the implement and checked over the feather to make sure it hadn’t broken. “Oh, you’re not here. Okay. Okay now I’m talking to a pen. Okay now shut up, Amir. Oh great, now I’m talking to myself.” Amir gently set the pen down and flung himself on the bed. As he thought of his mother, his tears returned and he wept bitterly.
Across the castle, Rupert slammed his beastly claw into a battered table. This latest act of violence proved to be the table’s downfall. It gave way in pieces. Rupert howled, his anger burning as brightly as the pain in his claw. He slumped against the wall and then slid to the floor. His tears were a familiar weight on his fur covered face.
