Discover Top Posts Tagged with #royal verse.

freddie's hand reaches out to take silas' now that they are alone and away from prying eyes, examining him for any injuries. "...are you okay?" he asks, the concern evident in his voice. even though silas is technically hired to ensure freddie's safety, it doesn't make freddie feel any less guilty whenever the man has to put himself in harm's way for the sake of protecting freddie. / @artisn

#freddie — threads.#freddie ft. silas.#royal verse.

@sacrificialmaiid wanted a little royal au treat

No sooner had the exiled former Queen died, than the King had begun his search to replace her, his current Queen. Oh, no one had said it. Not directly. Not to her. But her raucously laughing self-serving friends had held her hand and been so very smiling toward her. She is a woman who makes no one smile, if she can help it - not really. Alcina can make them smirk, or brave the approximation of a smile. Lord Bartlett had been brave enough to clasp her hand and tell her that he has always thought she'd been an alright sort. She'd snapped her hand back like he'd burned her, and when she'd looked at him with an eye to diminish him into nothing but a whipping post, he'd spun away to the dance floor again, blinking into nothing in the golden candle-light. The first gasp afterwards was haughty, frosted with ire. The gaze she threw at the foot of the King was laden with accusation: aren't you going to do anything? But he was already speaking with his advisor, laughing about --- something. Apparently not.

This is how she finds herself, cinched, primped, and buried in her dress next to his next wife. She's oh so certain of it. How else would this little girl from a little house be sat beside her? It's a message. She's not stupid. The best cover for his little affair is her. Her ally, the Duke, had come to her with wine. When she'd asked him to confirm what he'd heard about her fate, he had asked her in turn if she lived with regret. This was as close as she'd allow him to stray into the realm of telling her bluntly that she is not long for the throne. The best person to train up his next wife is her. For him, she could summon everything except feeling. For most Kings, that would be enough. Her hand grips a fork and she digs the butt of it into her table, staring ahead of her. Her predecessor had lived out the rest of her life in a nunnery. Did she fancy the same? Her gaze turns to Milena, who is staring up at her with something like adoration. The girl is a fool, and one of the biggest fools she's ever met, at that. She speaks endlessly of things appearing to her by prayer, relentlessly of her family and their games. Most unforgivably, she prattles on about animals and her love of them, but with a drooling, saccharine whining. For long moments, they have enjoyed silence. Silence enough for her to think. To mull. To resent. Turning it over in her mind as she does, she can see no path forward but to ruin the girl. Befriend her. Corrupt her. Expose her.

She's heretofore been cold to the girl. For weeks now, Milena has been by her side (and thus, by his) and yapping for attention like an excited little pup who has only been fed sausages from the dining table, and never whipped. The reason for their delightful silence now is that she has all but filled the conversation with lead, weighing it down to sink into nothing. Just then, the harp music stops. The princess - her daughter - stands from behind it, and the hall applauds. She drops the fork she'd gripped so tightly that it may have been a murdered man, were it a man, and applauds. After long seconds of applause, she stands. It is only good to remind the King that she is a loving mother. She's a mother. She can't be sent away. But, the last Queen was a mother also. "Wonderful, darling," the words tumble out like gold coins when Daniela comes to her, aching for kind words. His Majesty the King stands as well, and steals Daniela from her into a hug. Carefully, her expression stays steady. Oh, she resents him. That big gold chain on his pig's neck calls to her: choke him. When he lets Daniela go, the girl is right back into her arms, and she's whispering in the language they share that the King doesn't that girls must sleep earlier than adults. When the girl is gone, the King glances at her, sidelong. She can tell in that moment she's displeased him - outdone him. When the Queen sits, again she faces that question. Her wine is bitter, and she drinks heavily. How does she approach the question of Milena? When Alcina decides to look at the girl, she sees she's already being stared at. For one blinding moment, they make direct eye-contact. Milena is small and pretty in every way a girl should be: her eyes are wide and far apart, like a doe. Perfectly prey in nature. Her lips are soft, her hair the colour of sun-roasted wheat. It's a startling sight. She's a yew tree, her pink dress is but a fruit hanging. The Queen goes still. She's taller - her eyes screw down into the girl, before she breaks and smiles one large, false smile. "That's a surprisingly pretty dress." It's weak and pithy as they come, in terms of openings. Never content, she continues. Her fingers reach out, and she brushes a strand of hair aside. As she does so, she sees a disfigured ear poking through. Her eyes avert. She traces the gold lacing that outlines this flat-chested child's decolletage. "I imagine you don't rear your pups in pretty things like these?" Hadn't the girl said something about breeding pups? She isn't to know - the babble is incessant (by Alcina's standards) and she has rebelled against this awful future that Milena represents by ignoring her, and treating her harshly. But she'll be damned if she lets this pining little nothing take her from her children.

#ramble ramble ramble #all this for 2 lines of dialogue MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL #unimpressed w me!! but you will do amazing things hehe #royal verse.#milena.#sacrificialmaiid

@fatecried / x.

one hand will close into a fist as if to CRUSH her --- a reflex, but how telling it is : this is what he does. he does it to the people he disposes of in all the ways he can think of, in death or in like, he does it to the people who get too close, and he does it to the people who don’t get close enough. nothing will spare anyone, no matter who they think they are. his other hand is in his pocket, like always. tucked away and the nails that dig into his palm are forced out. ( he should decide which she is. too close or not close enough ? )

❝ marriage. who says I’ll be getting married ? ❞ words are offered with scorn and a blanket outrage, softened only by the time spent with her. he’s losing his edge. he’ll draw his smirk like a sword and sharpens it steadily, used to this pattern of behaviour, cleans the blade neatly. the small sliver of teeth he reveals flash catches the light.

now his hands will be like claws : fingers are curled. teeth are revealed further, and fangs are out. of course, he means so playfully, this is all a game to him. what a terrible predator he is, though ! not able to pick up on whatever she feels, ever. willfully blind to it, a refusal to see if she is anything more. she can’t be, she’s just like everyone else. chants the words over and over, doesn’t even know he is.

❝ in any case. I’ll be sure to invite you to the next function. you can show up, or not. doesn’t really matter, anyway. ❞ informal words, but without the accent he reserves for those special people. she’s not trusted, he’s sure she knows this.

❝ maybe it’ll be a funeral. won’t that be fun ? ❞

#fatecried #royal verse.#blame tora he waNTED ME TO.#nah blame me #:knife: don't u dare continue my continuation #cuz i don't have the stamina for it.#IEFNWEIFJSD I MEAN...............................#IGNORE THANKS BYE