#royalty starter

[loveafairs-a]

𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵  𝑻𝑶   :  female / nb. 𝑷𝑳𝑶𝑻  :  in the source.  𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑.

         〞it's maddening . . . how much you consume my every being, my every waking thought. so what makes you think that there is a corner on this entire earth that you could travel to far away enough to free me from this torment ?  because there isn’t an inch far enough that’ll make this any easier for either of us . 〟

[thegreatbigfourmain]

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👑 Royalty!AU


Takes places right after the second flim and Eugene does not exisit in this universe because I love my OTP too much to have him be casted off in favor of anyone else. If that made sense lol. 

The young chief had a somber expression on his face as he readjusted the fur cloak resting upon his shoulders. Although Drago and the former Alpha retreated to the ocean, the battle had taken many casualties within the village of Berk. Both dragons and Vikings suffered in the crossfire, leaving them with half their population still standing. It left him with the drastic decision of needing a treaty with a neighboring village to keep his people and dragons armed for another attack.

However, that proved to be a problem. No one wanted to encounter what Berk did in their village. Many of his allies rejected his request no matter how much he emphasized the superb protection done by his dragons. Thankfully to the gods, one did accept. The kingdom of Corona could never turn away a desperate plea for help. And Thor Almighty he was in dire need of assistance.

The arrangement showed to be more than what the Viking bargained for.

As a way to kill two birds with one stone, the King of Corona agreed to the Viking chief’s wishes if he complies in escorting his daughter, the princess. All other suitors were sent away by her highness, though she is compelled to choose one. He tried to weave his way out of it, but the king would not budge. In his words, “It is not an arranged marriage, but rather being a potential candidate for the role.” To his displeasure, he had no choice but to accept it for the good of his people. It forced him to a very long conversation with his girlfriend, who was livid when she heard of the final decision. It was the cause for the look on his face.

Hiccup Haddock the Third put on a brave face before entering the throne room where her grace awaited for his arrival. He did notice how Corona was the complete opposite of Berk. Everything from the buildings to the atmosphere was different and foreign to him. Banners of the kingdom’s emblem hung everywhere. It seemed like these people are obsessed with the sun. He shouldn’t think much of it considering he’s just as obsessed with dragons, something Astrid also poked fun of whenever they trained. Astrid…

The brunet made his way down the aisle as he stepped on the softest lavender carpet his feet have ever felt. Then again he hasn’t much use for fancy rugs and such in his home. The closer he moved toward the royal family, the more his heart sank in his chest. A future without Astrid was unheard of, but the world without dragons was one he simply could not live without. Like the king said, it is not an arranged marriage, just a courtship. If the princess prefers not to marry him, she might be willing to tell her father to keep the treaty. It was the only shred of hope he had for his already fast developing relationship.

Finally, Hiccup stood in front of the three of them sitting in their lavish thrones. He had seen the queen and king before, but never the princess. He bowed respectfully to them before his forest green eyes couldn’t help but glance at the rumored beauty. When he did, it took every ounce of power within him not to gawk in wonder. In layman’s terms, she was gorgeous. No, that did not define the vision before him. Hiccup could not find the words to describe being in her presence. He was utterly speechless. It horrified him.

The chief knelt down before the princess in an attempt to not gaze any longer. He kept his eyes on the carpet beneath him. 

"Your highness," he said as soon as he realized no words escaped his shocked lips. 

"I am here to escort you back to my village of Berk. I hope you will enjoy it there for the time being." Hiccup said while his fingers rubbed against each other, something he does as he thought of his next sentence. If he raised his head, it would only entice more emotions and thoughts within him. 

[sexy-salvatore-brother]

Jester & Prince/Princess AU

open to: f/m/nb

He patrolled around the gardens, bidding curious glances to those around. The royalty didn't regard him much, but people knew of the famous royal jester. One who could dance and entertain and flirt his way through his wants. He held a cold exterior; regarded as an object of use. He took no heart to it when people preferred the warmth he offered, even if it wasn't real. This was how he survived.

He paused, finding someone crouched by the marigolds. Their crown caught in the ray of the sun, glinting periodically. He couldn't tell if they were hiding or picking some off the bush. His eyes caught on the red ribbon around their wrist, tied delicately. The little cloth he had snuck to their pillow.

"Your highness, can I help you?".

[the-life-we-fear]

Open Starter

“We had an alliance...You promised to send troops to my country to help with the recent attacks...That was our deal”

[maidenoftheworld]

“We must pretend not to feel anything. They cannot know about us.” Forbidden love in France. Louis XIV era

Oriana groaned through a moan as she fought to reach for her closet door. “Mmm, p-please! I-I must go, my darling!” As exasperated as she wished to sound, it was impossible for the princess to command her lover to remove his lips from her neck, her collar bone, the upper swells of her breasts.

She felt him hum against her tender flesh and her eyes fluttered as she eyed the door handle she had been oh so close to reaching. From the midst of her cleavage did the masterful Gaétan murmur, “Make me believe you.” What a rascal he could be! She knew that he wasn’t bred for such things as courtesy, being a tailor’s apprentice rather than one of royal blood, but it always surprised her when he spoke to her as if he knew what she truly desired instead of what her social consciousness forced her to say.

It was such a surreal experience to encounter another person who could address her needs better than she could, herself.

And with the resources that a royal woman had at her fingertips, no less!

Squirming in defiance of the life she led, one where she could not simply hide away with him in her closet for all of eternity,  Oriana reached down to adjust her bodice so that she may forcefully end her lover’s lustful assault on her body. “I-I am meant to visit with m-my sisters i-in the gardens …s-soon.” Regaining control of her ability to speak always proved to be troubling after their secret meetings.

Gaétan’s frown reflected the regret she endured inside of herself. He did not release the fistfuls of her skirt, and Oriana nearly forced her legs apart so that she could feel his touch through her pesky layers of clothing once again. However, though it never suited her to be the one who had their head on straight, she was forced to remain firm against his adorable sulking.

“Say that a new kind of flower that they’ve started to grow makes you sneeze, and return to me here.”

“I adore flowers.”

“That does not mean they will not make you sneeze.” Gaétan pointed out with a tone that reflected the true deviousness of his intentions.

Before she found herself seduced once again, Oriana pouted. “Don’t make me dream of something so desirable or I might just—”

She need not say another word, for once again, her secret lover knew what it was she was going to say, what she was afraid of admitting. Gaétan kissed her with the truest fervor that he always reserved for when their lips would meet. The princess had nearly fallen to her knees and bowed to his great way of loving her the very first time he dared to romance her, had he not held her by her arms and steadied her. For some reason, no matter how scandalous their rendezvous was, she never felt as if it was truly wrong… It was Gaétan who made her feel as if she was Oriana, a person of her own design, not a simple princess that was meant to play a role that any other woman blessed by fate could have played.

Sadly, her fate was calling to her from the gardens.

Moaning again, her highness tugged herself away from that tender kiss that she adored and looked towards the door once again. These ‘private meetings’ of theirs had made Oriana develop a fondness for the front of her closet door, and a hatred for the back side of it. “I-I must go now, p-please let me…”

“I know, princess. I am…trying to behave.”

“I admire your strength.” Teased Oriana with a joyful giggle.

That line gave Gaétan pause, seen in the way his gaze fell to her lips yet he did not charge forth to claim them once again. After a few moments of nothingness passed them by, her lover whispered for their ears alone, “Maybe if I was a knight, we could parade our love around as any other man and woman would be allowed—”

A slender finger silenced him with frightened gentleness. “We… must pretend not to feel anything, anywhere else besides this closet. They cannot know about us.”

“I know, my love.” Gaétan promised, his pet name for her laying one final kiss upon her skin. From behind his soft gesture did their eyes meet, and the sorrow that Oriana felt was once again solidified by the man she trusted more than any other, as she saw it reflected in his own gaze. The pain she felt when she was forced to leave him was usually calmed by the soothe warmth of the lingering tingles Gaétan’s affection gave her, but this time…

Oriana removed her finger from his lips, gave her father’s apprentice tailor a small curtsey, then fled from her closet. It took strength to remove herself from his presence, however, it required a great deal more in order to pretend she did not hear him mutter to himself after she had slipped away, “That doesn’t mean I cannot dream.”

[maidenoftheworld]

“I cannot marry that man. He smells of rank meat!” Perhaps Viking Era Lois and Clark? please and thank you, babes!

Diana did her best not to sigh. “What is there to be opposed to? He is one of the strongest men, he has shown himself to have noble intentions ever since we were children, implying that he would be a wonderful father–”

“I told you,” Lois growled, her fist clenching around the handle on her pitcher, “I cannot marry that man. He smells of rank meat!” Her insult was loud, but thankfully, the Thursebolt festivities were much noisier than her petulant complaints. The frost that the tribe was meant to pray away seemed to have migrated into Lois’ heart tonight, with the hopeful spring set to bloom very soon, given how frigid she felt towards the prospect of marriage.

However, across from her, sitting improper just as she on the table’s bench, her best friend laughed at her without any concern for her feelings. “That’s because h-he’s also a g-great hunt-ter.” Diana’s snickers snipped at some of her words, but her logic was undisturbed.

“Hunters bathe.” Lois pointed out, then downed yet another large gulp of her ale.

Suddenly, with a mouth full of her favorite drink did she hear from behind, in that deep, soothing yet invigorating baritone, “Not in the blood of our prey though, I promise.”

Doing her best not to choke, Lois scrambled to compose herself as she turned to face the very man she had been discussing quite publicly: Clark. He was accompanied by his best friend, who seemed to eye Diana’s gleeful laughter with evident disfavor.

What an array of emotions the four of them currently showcased: disgust, timidity, embarrassment and joy.

At least Diana suited the rest of the party.

“We aren’t trying to intrude, but—”

“You’re not very quiet when you’re insulting someone, are you?” Bruce ended off Clark’s apology with a contradiction to his sentiment, and earned himself an elbow to the stomach in response.

Lois, slowly regaining her natural self-confidence, rose from her seat and stood tall before the statuesque men. “Your proposal isn’t a secret, either, since you proposed to me in front of the tribe this morning.”

“I thought you’d be happy with my asking,” Clark answered immediately, his honesty pushing him to discuss the matter with her in full, “since we were always good friends.”

“Perhaps we should leave.” Diana suggested. Lois could almost imagine her eyeing Bruce with her powerful blue eyes, daring him to oppose her suggestion that was truly meant to be an indirect order for propriety.

“No, we should speak somewhere private.”

“If someone sees us alone, we might be forced to marry.”

“Don’t talk to me like I don’t know what they’d do!” Lois ordered, her inability to heed a warning mingling with her feminine pride unintentionally igniting quite a battle.

Clark’s eyes darkened for a moment – just a moment, but it was powerful enough of an instance that Lois nearly gasped – before he collected himself in order to point out, “I am only trying to protect you from being stuck with me, given that you seem so upset with the idea of being bound to me for life—”

Stomping forward, she failed to notice the room begin to silence itself when she seethed, “I never said it upset me!”

“Then why are you rejecting me? You could at least explain yourself to me; I deserve to know—”

She didn’t know what she was doing.

She was possessed by the urge to feel anything but the coldness of her heart.

She couldn’t stop herself, and a greater part of her didn’t want anyone or anything to interfere!

Lois summoned all of her bravado and did what she should have done all along: she grabbed Clark’s face in her hands and pulled their faces together until their lips clashed just as fiercely as their hearts. Her unaddressed fear charged over Lois like an angry fleet, waging war with her self-confidence, that is, until the genuine pleasure from the kiss fought back, reclaiming her sense of right.

She wanted to marry him, even though her fear stemmed from the realization of how frightful it seemed to promise herself to the boy she had been pining after for her entire life.

While the tribe continued to sit in shock over Lois’ shocking behavior, Clark dared to mumble into her mouth, “Mm, I don’t know if I can marry a woman…whose breath smells of old ale.”

She punched him in the arm instantly, instinctively, and that seemed to be what was needed in order to restore order to their relationship.

“What a happy, smelly couple we’ll be, then!” Lois bit back, a hidden giggle in the back of her throat reigniting the festivities once again, now with another reason to celebrate.

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[maidenoftheworld]

“I’ll never look at another.” For Elizabethan Era/ Tudor Era. Please :D

“I swear to you, Celia!” – it was only after he had spoken her Christian name that Aaren realized he had overstepped, and no sooner did he attempt to assuage any possible distaste for his rash speech – “I will never look at another. Lady Giordano, please, allow me the chance to prove that to you.” He spoke with such breathlessness, the anxious thumping of his heart felt as though it was rattling his strapping chest. The emptiness of her home’s salon was meant to provide him with some sort of comfort as he challenged her resilience, and yet, it only garnered a nervous response from his once proud self.

The unladylike roll of her eyes did nothing to instill confidence in him, either.

Those round lips of hers seemed so pursed with innocence and shyness, until she opened them and unleashed her wrath upon him. “Lord Howell, do you know of St. Celia?” Lady Giordano sounded as if she was scolding him like one of his many professors at Eton would have.

Admittedly, he had never been as attracted to the idea of a good talking to until she tried to administer one.

“I suppose you plan to educate me.” Aaren grumbled while crossing his arms and planting his feet firmly into the plush carpet beneath him.

Celia, on the other hand, bravely approached him, destroying the courteous distance between them without any show of concern. All the while, she lectured in a voice that grew in volume rather fast, “She was a woman who refused to do as the Roman Empire had dictated – she would not revere the Roman gods. And so, what did they do to her?”

“I’m sure I can imagine—”

“They tried to suffocate her first, and many times it failed.”

“Lady Giordano, please.” The talk of courtly murder was extinguishing the heat from his blood with such a frosty chill. Her lack of refinement in discussing such horrid details was so unlike the ladies of the ton he was used to, and it was due to those ladies that the only woman to every catch his attention was trying to make some morbid point to him now.

How twisted might he be, to still adore her, in spite of her wicked tongue?

Of course she did not heed his plea, as she carried on with a fire behind her eyes, surely matching the tones of her attire – or rather, battle armor. “When they could not end her that way, they were forced to behead her instead.”“Your point, please.” Angrily, Aaren begged for her to end her gothic-like tale.

Smirking, she now stood directly before him, unafraid of him despite his rake-ish reputation. Even though it was the very same talk of the ton that had caused her to reject his advances, she seemed to enjoy matching wits with him as they battled in her father’s salon, made evident as she whispered with sickening sweetness, “There is a reason why I share her name: I will fight for what I believe to be true until my very last breath.”

Quick on the draw in conversation as he was with his favorite game of cards, Aaren inquired, “And do you know what my name means, milady? My Christian name, as well.”

“No.” She spoke firmly, yet the surprise that lit up her face showed him that there was a way to shake the mighty Italian heroine.

Perfect.

Aaren bravely leaned in towards Celia, close enough that their foreheads might have grazed despite their height difference. His heart was racing once again, however, it was excitement that urged him on his way this time, whispering to her in return, “It can mean ‘exalted’, like a noble, or it can mean ‘high mountain’. Do you know why that is?” – without waiting for a response, he answered his own question – “Because I will climb any opposition before me, no matter how steep the journey may be. I will always…be the one to top my challenges.”

The look of a woman who had been bested was his only response. Indeed, her English was truly as proficient as she had guaranteed it would be, along with her surprising understanding of intercourse, for her to not only understand his innuendo but for her cheeks to remain un-reddened.

Dear Lord, or any other deity that he was meant to praise for sending him such a vivacious creature, Aaren knew he was absolutely smitten.

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