@preparetodie || Closed starter.
It wasn’t supposed to happen here. Of course, that never stopped them any time before -- and suitors were suitors, they wound come in through any way possible at any time possible. Miri had woken up to enough suitors in her own bedchambers to have that lesson scorched into her soul by now. Just another reason why she had two proper bedchambers in her schooltime castle. Late-night visitations of that nature were never welcome, but there was little she could do when they were so determined to overcome every last defense she could construct.
But not now. She had a guest - oh, and she knew guests never stopped them before. Royal balls and feasts and any and all events were full of guests, even those she might personally invite, and always the suitors found a way in. Always. No matter what she did.
There was one universal constant amongst Merkingdom royalty, and it was the suitors. To have them run their quarry down, to find anyone that a genuine connection could be forged with and to leave them in several dozen pieces to be scraped off a beachfront, to dominate and control any and all unfortunate virgin rulers until they finally gave in and picked a suitor from their courts. Universally reviled, it seemed, yet too powerful to challenge in any meaningful way, baked so intensely into the policies of the Merkingdom. The only way to keep the Middle Royals satisfied and in their place, convinced that they could rise above their current positions in a constant scramble for power.
And yet.... Anytime but now. Anytime but when Miranda had just rounded around the bend to the training grounds at her castle ( a broad, oval-shaped patch of ground covered in soft sand, with targets and mock cover and a range for any type of projectile that could be imagined, a path connecting it directly to the royal armories located inside of the building ), walking at Aaravi’s side. For the merprincess to instantly still, foot stopping midair and drawing back so that she stood there, stiffly, staring ahead. At the figure currently glancing over his own sword at the edge of the training grounds, admiring his own reflection in its edge.
Compared to Miranda, the mer was huge. And that was indeed, a merfolk, and not one of the many modified sea creatures that tended the castle grounds and followed Miranda’s every whim and desire. Just a hair over a full seven foot and a terrifying fourteen feet long, all bulk and muscle and scales more platemail than natural covering, there were... Strangely, more comparisons in him to Miranda than there even were with her to Bellanda.
Where her scales were a soft pink, his sat in deep, vivid red, a carnation so intense that the color of blood would pale in comparison to it. His fins were lighter, Miranda’s gentle cream skin a stark, clammy white on him, tinted with a pinkish pallor, the same color that detailed out markings that would surely alight in blue in the darkness. Hair cropped short, dark and deep, but tinted with some cool color, a blue or purple or the like.
Silver eyes almost caught the image of the two in slow motion. Slit pupils, so cold in comparison to any look Miranda turned upon Aaravi with her own, matching pair, contrasted against a half-golden smile, where his bottom jaw had been replaced, given in turn to a finely made prosthetic, all etched lines and careful detailing below teeth made from a cold, black metal.
“Duke Tybalt - ” the name breathed out on a gasp, Miranda’s heart already pounding in her earfins. She was responding to his love letters. She was doing what she was supposed to do. She had tried to keep him at arm’s length, tried to discourage him - and yet. Here he was. Standing there with his executioner’s sword in one hand, solid, hefty blade reminding her all too well of how easy skin would rend in comparison to scales, how she wouldn’t stand a chance, why had he shown up here, now, with Aaravi right beside Miranda and her thoughts so full of love and sweetness and a tenderness and -------
An amused chuckle. Low. Rolling like thunder. Sword lowered, resting against the white sand. Not yet tucked back into its sheathe slung around his waist, above a flowy, regal attire that did nothing to disguise his threat nor his reputation.
“Highest Princess Miranda Vanderbilt - I had heard you would be partaking in some sparring today. I did not think you were bringing along a guest. I think they can arrange for another day, I’m sure. Do I not deserve a private audience with the Crown Jewel of the Depth’s Pride, Her Unavoidable Glory?”
