#capri fic

[barbitone]

Learn to breathe again

[ghaniblue]

Reading list: August (Capri)

I'm in a Captive Prince phase. I reread the books this month and only read Capri fic. My theme for the month was arranged marriage. It wasn't planned, it just so happened that all my bookmarks pointed there. Keep 'em coming. I love it.

>> July list <<

💍 The Arrangement by @hoko-onchi-writes (Lamen, E, 40k)

Laurent must marry Damen for the sake of Vere. Damen comes to court him, but Laurent is having none of it.

In Damen's opinion, Laurent needs some coaxing before their consummation before the council.

A very fun arranged-marriage romance featuring gratuitous mention of Damen's thick... thighs.

⚔️ An Arranged Marriage by Josselin (Lamen, E, 18k)

Afterwards his father only remarked, “His features are very fine.”

“I am not marrying him for his features,” said Damen.

“No, you are marrying him for his dowry,” said Theomedes.

Watch Laurent come to Ios for a political marriage and solve all of Damen's problems in a year.

👱Golden Starbursts by thecouchsofa (Lamen, Damen/Auguste, E, 5k)

Damen has only ever fucked two men in his life. Both have worn the golden starburst emblem.

Damen is supposed to marry Auguste but things turn out differently. Damen will never be able to outrun the accusation of having a type.

>> follow the acari recs tag for more recs <<

[onpurposewrites]

somewhere only we know

explicit | 5.1k | Damen pov | here

A year after the events of Kings Rising, Damen and Laurent return to the summer palace for a reprieve.

Whilst there, Damen capitalises on the chance to take Laurent somewhere secret and special, somewhere just for them.

or: Damen is the most romantic lover boy ever

“You are precious,” Damen tells him, tucking a wet lock of blonde hair behind his ear.

“You are mine,” Laurent replies, kneading Damen’s shoulders with covetous hands. He kisses Damen again, sweet and simple, before piercing him with determined blue eyes. “I want to make love.”

Damen’s heart falls over in his chest; Damen himself almost falls over in his eagerness to comply. “Laurent,” he groans, and his grip tightens. Laurent squeezes him with his thighs, one finger beneath his chin, lifting it high so that their eyes lock again.

“Make love to me, Damianos.”

Something curls deep in his gut at the authoritativeness of Laurent’s voice. Suddenly, he’s moving quickly, cradling Laurent close as they exit the lake, their wet skin sparkling under the summer sun.

[zwiazdziarka]

I officialy lost control over my writing. I currently have 4 docs (and two handwritten pages) with bits and pieces of capri fics, varying from 4500 words that are almost a complete story, that I don't know how to end, and just a couple hundread words of an outline + some random dialogue.

The thing below is neither.

“Two kings married, what an idea. What about the heirs? Do you see any heirs?” There’s no acceptable way for Vere to be inherited by a bastard. The fact that the kings are both men might be even more problematic than the fact that each of them has their own kingdom to rule. “There’s a small boy,” says the prophet carefully. “He speaks four languages and is so fast and strong that he can beat grown soldiers in a swordfight.” “But he’s a bastard, isn’t he?” “I… I d-don’t know. I only see that he’s there and both kings act as his fathers.” It doesn’t explain the vision. Judging by Aleron’s stormy face, the king doesn't like it at all.

Thank you @run-for-chamo-miles and @suseagull5914 for tagging me!

I'll tag @onthewaytosomewhere @cliozaur @chasseusedetoiles @anyroomsrio

[penguinmerchant]

Full Length of the Soul binding

So I've been a busy little bee lately! Now that all these books have reached their recipients I'll start posting them, and I want to start with one of my favorites---@wrenaspun's lovely fic, The Full Length of the Soul. I wanted to do something simple for this bind (opinions may vary on whether or not I hit that target) but this came together for me really quickly, and I'm really happy with it.

More pics and details under the cut.

So the idea was for this to be a half binding, where half of the front was bookcloth and half was marbled paper. As you can see the font of the title took up quite a bit more than that, and it became more like a three quarters binding. Will I eventually regret not putting some bookcloth on the outer edge? Maybe. It's pretty sturdy paper so I hope it'll be okay.

I used some marbled cream and gold paper for the endpapers. These are the marbled jute paper from Mulberry Papers and I have two 8x11s of almost every color in my stash. Very handy for situations like this, I was able to find something perfect without needing to order anything (unlike my other bindings...)

Here's a pic of the back.

Ugh I just love it, it's way simpler than the other books I've done lately but it really gives the marbled paper a chance to shine. That paper is Crepaldi, of course, and the bookcloth is duo (I am going to LOSE IT when I run out of my stash of duo, it's beautiful and I love it so much, I don't know what I'm going to do). All the gold, including the bands on the front and back, are HTV. I did protect the marbled paper with parchment while I was ironing it on but it did surprisingly well and the heat didn't damage the paper at all.

All in all this was a very easy bind! The guillotine didn't give me any trouble and the casing in was really easy. Even the HTV went done really nicely. I forgot to take a picture of the spine before I sent it away but it's just the title and it even went on straight and everything.

[smugrobotics]

Day 2 Prompt: Breeding

Pedigree (Damen/Laurent | Explicit | 1.2k)

"Your entire court has been as broody as a plucked hen, and though I have told Nikandros that I try to put a child in you every chance I get, it has not seemed to reassure him.” No one can startle laughter out of Damen like Laurent. It bursts free, Damen’s eyes crinkling under the weight of his amusement. “Perhaps Nikandros believes we’d have better luck with you as the broodmare and I the stallion.”

Read it on AO3

cc: @captiveprincekinktober

[land-of-appletun-and-anime]

"Somewhere in the palace, Auguste was losing his virginity -to someone other than Damen" 💔

Meanwhile Laurent in Damen' bed waiting to scare him

[faketrex]

Five Parcels, A Gift Horse

- part 3 of 4 -

Captive Prince. Post-canon.

.....

(Part 1) (Part 2)

.....

Two of the blood oranges go to Lazar to enjoy at his leisure, or more likely, to serve as bartering pieces for his choice of duties in the next week's guard rotation. Then again, Lazar may simply decide to savor them in front of Jord and his perpetual hangdog expression, in an effort to rub salt in his wounds. None of it is of any concern to Laurent.

The bulk of the bushel is sent to the kitchens for use in the court's meals, or for preserving, or for extracting the juices or oils.

Four oranges, Laurent keeps for himself.

The dagger goes in his boot.

As plots go, this one doesn't hide the danger that had briefly seemed possible; the oranges had been unadulterated, the dagger the same. Nonetheless, there's enough mystery in the ensemble to make Laurent pause. If these are indeed coronation gifts, where is the logic in their selection? Why a weapon? Why a delicacy with a name that evokes violence? It's unclear. It's intriguing.

Laurent cannot lay out his theories in his correspondence with Damen. For every trusted messenger who carries Laurent's letters, there are a dozen more who would happily open them en route and reseal them without pause. All the same, Laurent can tell the story of his safe, if tortuously slow, arrival back in Arles, then of the two unexpected parcels, and of his general curiosity about their contents.

He cannot tell Damen of how the oranges remind him of a meal shared in the palace in Ios, sweet juice dripping down their wrists and onto the white of Damen's bandages, nor of how the dagger stirs his memory of seeing an Akielon captain at the head of a Veretian army.

Often, however, Laurent does not need to tell Damen such things at all in order for him to understand them. It remains to be seen whether Damen's talent for perception – as concerns Laurent, at least – will be as sharp in written form as when they are alongside one another.

Even after the letter has been sent, it is difficult to put it out of mind. More precisely, it is difficult for Laurent to put Damen's reaction out of mind. Would he tease Laurent for seeing memories of Damen in these mysterious gifts? Would he be cautious? Would he read meaning in the parcels, or none at all?

For all the fast horses in the world, Laurent's letter has likely only just reached Ios by the time another week has passed and another crate is brought to his chambers.

The crate's arrival is a welcome interruption in an evening that has been spent reviewing expenses. Unfortunately, he has yet to determine whether the lavishness of the ceremony will positively or negatively affect the likelihood of challenges to his rule in his first year. Laurent's uncle is dead, his council has been weeded of its most poisonous members, and Laurent has something even more important than an ally waiting for him in the south – and yet his future seems balanced on the edge of a knife.

This week's parcel is a rectangular, shallow crate, carried into his sitting room without fanfare by a single guard.

“Any messages?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“And the deliveryman?”

The guard folds his hands behind his back, as if settling in for an interrogation. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Laurent waits, but the guard doesn't continue. “Go on.”

“There was a deliveryman, Your Highness.”

“And?”

“Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but that's all I know. He delivered the box to the guardhouse, and they called the ostler because he'd warned them he was expecting something for the stables, but then Jord went by and said you were looking out for a delivery, too, and then when the ostler got there he said the box was too small to be what he was expecting, and then Jord took charge of things and delivered it to the castellan, who said your name was on it, anyway, and he gave it to Bastien, who gave it to me, of course, seeing as he's feeling poorly and I'm on duty tonight instead.”

“Of course,” Laurent says. “That will be all.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The parcel fits easily on the low table in front of the hearth, so Laurent lets it rest there while he pries off the lid. Like the previous two crates, this one is sturdy, with boards joined in a meticulous fashion so as to be watertight. Unlike the previous two, this one has a fine wooden chest neatly nested within it. The fit is so snug that Laurent has to tilt the crate onto one side to ease out the chest and lift it free. Despite this jostling, the lid of the inner chest remains tightly fastened; upon closer inspection, there are two hinges set flush into the wood on one of its long sides, while two small silver latches adorn the opposite side.

It's a fine piece of artisanry, crafted from a dark, reddish-toned wood uncommon in Vere. The chest bears no carvings, but the simplicity of the design demonstrates its maker's expertise: the sleek lines and smooth finish leave no room for error. The chest is so fine, in fact, that it could be a gift itself.

Laurent doesn't pause before unlocking the latches and lifting the lid.

Inside the chest, he finds – books. Six books, perfectly aligned as if on a shelf, spines facing the reader. They have either been made to fit the chest, or the chest has been made to fit them. Carefully, Laurent slides out one of the middle volumes and turns it over in his hands. The cover and spine are pressed leather, midnight blue in color and embossed with gold at the corners. When Laurent opens the cover, the fresh bindings crackling softly under his hands, he finds neither text nor illustrations on the pages within. He slides it back into the chest and selects another. The second book is dark red but embossed with gold, just like the first. Inside it's blank, just like the first.

Six volumes, three of each color, each one filled with paper so smooth it could only be Patran – and leather so unblemished it must be the same – and each one of them is empty, without even an inscription.

It's another puzzle.

Laurent had been correct in his assessment: this series of gifts holds a meaning – and they are gifts, for all that the sentiment behind them is ambiguous.

Since they seem to arrive on a schedule, too, Laurent has a clear timeline to uncover that meaning. There are still three weeks left before his coronation. Logically, he should have two or three more hints, regularly spaced.

Gently, Laurent closes the lid on the wooden chest, then slides the latches back into place. He's only just settled back onto the settee to think when there's another knock at the door.

While Laurent watches, the guard enters and takes up the same pose as before, hands behind his back.

“What is it?”

“Begging you pardon again, Your Highness, but you have a delivery.”

“You already delivered it,” Laurent says. “Do you not recall sharing, not thirty minutes ago, a detailed account of how this crate made its way through at least half a dozen pairs of hands before arriving at its intended recipient?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard says.

“Then why,” Laurent asks, “are you telling me again?”

“There's a horse, Your Highness.”

“A horse?”

“Yes, Your Highness. The ostler is holding it for you in the courtyard, in case you'd like to see it.”

“Why are you informing me of a stray horse?”

The guard frowns, as if Laurent is the one being opaque. “It's not a stray, Your Highness. It's a delivery.”

“What delivery?”

“The horse, Your Highness.”

Laurent lets out a long, slow breath, then looks over at the wooden chest. It hasn't moved from its place on the table in front of the fire. There's been no unexpected skip forward in time. Somehow, however, he seems to have miscalculated how this puzzle will unfold.

“Be clear, now. Do you mean to say that a horse has been delivered to the palace, for me?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I did say.”

“Of course you did,” Laurent says, standing. “Show me.”

The nights are getting longer – and cooler, Laurent in only his shirtsleeves is underdressed to be anywhere other than near the hearth in his chambers – but the west courtyard is brightly lit with torches and the ostler's lantern.

“Your Highness!” The ostler doesn't bow as Laurent approaches. With one hand on the horse's bridle and the other holding the lantern, it would've made for an awkward affair.

“Tell me,” Laurent says. “How does it come to pass that a horse can wander into the palace without any knowledge of its provenance?”

“She was handed off to me personally, Your Highness,” the ostler protests. “And she's an Akielon breed, there's no doubt about her origin.” He holds the lantern higher above the horse's shoulder.

The mare is remarkably calm despite the proximity of the lantern and the activity around her, only observing with dark, placid eyes as Laurent approaches. Her coat is a dark chestnut in the front, patched with a white snowcap over her hindquarters. She doesn't so much as shuffle sideways when Laurent lifts one hand to softly rub her nose.

There's a clatter somewhere behind Laurent, then hissed, arguing voices, but the horse only twitches one ear, unbothered. Laurent has ridden seasoned warhoses more skittish than this mare.

“Would you like to see her gait, Your Highness? She has a fine stance, to be sure. I could get the lead for–”

“No,” Laurent says. “Take her to the stables. Tomorrow morning, we'll go for a ride.”

.....

(to be continued in part 4)