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This is a RP for Ylva and I. If you are neither of us, please don't post on this forum. You can gladly follow along with this if you wish though! <3 |
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Plot Points - Arranged marriage between two kingdoms at war for the past 50 years. - Queen died from a mysterious illness. This caused the King to keep the princess out of the public eye behind the castle walls away from danger and illnesses. - Princess hasn't been seen in public for the past 12 years. Only people inside the castle walls know what she looks like. - Princess's best friend (Gen) poses as her since they are similar and prince of other kingdom doesn't know what the princess looks like. This is due to The King not wanting to put his daughter at risk and see if the prince is dangerous. - Slow-burn romance between the two. - The prince finds out that he has been deceived that Gen was never the princess. - The prince starts another war due to being deceived. - Gen gets injured in battle due to being on the front lines. The prince finds her and can't kill her so he instead helps her. - Gen's "dead brother" is actually alive and brainwashed by the prince's father. He works for that King and doesn't know who Gen is once they meet. - Royalty and most higher-ups are either shifters, have magic, etc. Rarely do the poor and middle class have it. - More to come. |
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Geneviève Zosia Wisteria "You want me to do what now? No way am I going to pose as royalty!" Female | 22 | Werewolf | Knight | Nickname(s) | Gen | Sexuality | Heterosexual | Birthday | December 16th | Appearance | Geneviève stands at 5'6, slightly taller than the normal standard woman's height. She has a beige complexion with warm undertones, having it only get darker with how much she tends to be outside. She has freckles that litter her body, having there be a decent amount. Just like her skin tone, they get darker the more they are exposed to the sunlight. She has stunning round eyes that pop out against her dark complexion. Her eyes are quite unique considering they are heterochromia. Her right eye is a bright ocean blue color while her left eye is the color of honey. They are framed with dark long, curled lashes. Her hair is rather thick, having it usually be pulled away from her face and off her neck when she is on duty. Her bright auburn hair is almost the color of ruby, having it look absolutely stunning when the sunlight hits it. It cascades down her back in loose beach waves, having it stop at her waist. She usually either has it in a braid or she keeps it down where she takes pieces from either side of her head and pulled it back to only clip it in the back with a silver piece of jewelry to keep it out of her face. She sometimes even has two strands of curled hair framing her face at times. When it is cooler out, she usually always has it down unless she is practicing swordsmanship or when fighting in general. She doesn't do much to it but run her fingers through her hair once in a while and that's about it. Her cheekbones are chiseled in a way with a heart-shaped face. Her physique is petite, yet she has the muscle there, more than most women do with how much she is constantly working on her swordsmanship to help stay in shape among other things. She has a button nose and semi-full reddish lips that compliment her rather well. She has very noticeable dimples on her cheeks when she smiles. You can even slightly see them even when she isn't smiling. As much as she loves her dimples, sometimes she wished she didn't have them since it makes her features seem a bit softer. What's funny is that she sometimes pokes her fingers in her dimples just for the fun of it. She has perfectly shaped eyebrows with semi-white straight teeth surprisingly. She does have some piercings considering she loves having them. She has a single silver hoop earring in both ears. Even though they are silver and hurt like hell when she got them, it didn't stop her from getting them in the first place. Other than that, she doesn't have any other piercings. Perhaps she will get more down the road at some time. As for tattoos, she doesn't have any at this time. Just like most people, she has scars. Some are small, some are large, and some are ugly. The most noticeable one is the one that goes over her right eye. Surprisingly enough, her eye is still intact like the blade of the sword never touched it. It goes from above her brow to halfway down her cheek in a bit of a jagged way. She also has one that wraps up her forearm like a snake slithering up her arm. Of course, she has other small ones, but that is about it. Her clothing definitely varies. She is either going to be in armor most of the time or pants and a shirt. She hates dresses and tries to avoid them the best she can unless she has to wear one when it's absolutely necessary. Her clothing color is usually on the darker side of the color spectrum. She'll usually wear pants, off-the-shoulder shirts, and a pair of knee-high boots whenever she isn't in armor. | Personality | Geneviève has a huge issue with trusting people. Even if you might seem to be the nicest and most trustworthy person out there, it is going to be insanely difficult to earn her loyalty let alone trust. People only end up stabbing her in the back, so why should she trust people in the first place? Even if you somehow get her loyalty let alone trust, you better value it like gold because once you break it, there is no way in hell that you are ever going to be getting it back. Even though she knows it would benefit her to find people she trusts and keep close, she can't help but avoid that with the events that have had happened to her. She is harsh with her words. She will always bluntly answer questions without thinking about it first, not sugar-coating it, or even acting at least a bit nice when saying it. She will always answer truthfully whether you will like it or not. Now, if you want her to lie for you, she will definitely do it. Though, she would like to know the reason before doing so. Unlike some people who can never say no, she will say it without hesitation. If she doesn't want to do something, she will definitely tell you. She has a silver tongue, especially when it comes to an argument with someone. She will always be determined to win or show that her point is relevant even if it might actually be completely the opposite. Now, she is actually quite sarcastic once you get past her cold and harsh exterior. She even has the knowledge for days as she reads constantly whenever she has free time no matter the genre of the book. More to be discovered and developed. | Fears | Geneviève is afraid of losing the people she cares most for. She is also absolutely terrified of heights. | Likes | Geneviève definitely enjoys training and improving on her swordsmanship. She will read whenever she gets the time to or sneaks off to the library when she isn't needed. She loves the outdoors, which she will be outside most of the time if she isn't ready or if the King doesn't need her. Sunflowers are her absolute favorite, having her go to the field not far from the castle once in a while. Sweets are definitely one way to try and help win her over, but won't necessarily work. | Dislikes | Geneviève absolutely hates children. She thinks they are evil and dirty little beings. She definitely dislikes the royal family and their thinking that they are better than everyone else. She has nothing against them, she just dislikes them is all. She hates being the middle child since she always seemed to be the forgotten child when growing up. She despises alcohol and will not take a sip of it. She has her reasons not to have it. She also isn't really a big fan of people in general. | Offspring(s) | None | Kin | Cassidy Wisteria; Sister; 20; Alive; Common-folk Kendric Wisteria; 24; Alive; Herald; She has no idea that he is still alive Alice Wisteria; Mother; 40; Deceased; Murdered Walter Wisteria; Father; 47; Deceased; Died at war | Other | Geneviève was never one that got along with her siblings or her parents. She was always rebellious when she was growing up, always getting into trouble whether it be with the law or with her parents. She did get along with her brother, Kendric, but a couple of years ago, she got a letter saying that he was killed on the field. She was utterly lost for months before she pulled herself out of the hole she was in. What she doesn't know is that her brother is still alive. No one knows that she is a Werewolf. She tends to keep it a secret just because she doesn't like people treating her differently if they found out. Besides, Werewolves are not a species that people tend to like anyways. There is also the fact that she is from a poor family and has the ability that only royal and a decent amount of the higher-ups have. She definitely used to be a nice kid before her brother ended up being gone more often as well, which is when the rebellious stage started. After she pulled herself out of a dark place, she started working towards a knight, which took a lot since she got into trouble with them often and since she is a woman. Eventually, they saw she was an asset to them and treated her as one of them. |
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Kyril Adonis Drakkos Male | 25 | Human | Nickname(s) | Ky | Sexuality | Heterosexual | Role | Prince of the Vraeria Kingdom & General of the Vraeria Militia | Ability | To be determined... | Appearance | Kyril is the tallest among his siblings, standing at 6ft 6in. Being one of many of King Torsten's sons, meant Kyril spent his entire life honing his combat skills. Due to this, his body is pure muscle and toned like a god. He wasn't bulky, but his lean build fit well with his long limbs. His tanned skin is lined with prominent veins. Kyril is naturally a bronze tan, so he doesn't burn in the sun. Just like his body, Ky's features are sharp and defined. He has hollowed out cheeks, paired with high cheek bones. His jawline sharp with slight stubble. His nose is straight. Sharp angular eyebrows that fit his face, and are slightly unkempt. Kyril's eyes are hooded, like a predators. His eyes are a pale stormy grey. Framed with thick lashes. His lips are a pink tint naturally. His teeth are perfectly straight and pearly white. Kyril's hair is jet black with wild curls. The bottom is longer than the top, almost like a messy mullet but not quite. Curls tend to fall into his eyes. Being a Prince he is not allowed to have piercings. Oddly enough, a custom for the men of their family is going through the grueling process of tattooing the family crest on their skin. All the men in the family have it tattooed somewhere on their body, and it carries a few unique touches to each male. Kyril's is on the right side of his neck, it bleeds onto his chest and back slightly. It is also colored a dark red. Almost like blood. He has two obvious scars. One you can't see unless he's looking up, it a slash mark under his neck. The other is a deep long scar over his heart. Ky's attire is usually his Kingdom's colors. The armor is usually custom made. | Personality | Deep down Kyril's an introvert to the bone, but being one of the many sons of King Torsten's, he's forced to be an extrovert. The King holds many events and such, which call's for his children to be present. There was always mingling and greeting involved in those events. Kyril hates it, if he could avoid it he would. When he was younger he'd find hiding spots to avoid forced interactions. Although, Kyril is the most disliked kid of King Torsten. He's known for being out right disrespectful to just about anyone. He wont back down from arguments and is known for escalating them quickly. The only good thing about that, is he can back up his foul mouth. Many physical altercations are usually turned down, due to his sheer size. If one was smart, they would know not to pick a fight with the man, as they wouldn't win very easily. The man is cunning and strategic. Nothing stands in his way. He's also not one to go easy on anyone. He isn't new to manipulation either. | Likes | - Fighting - Swimming - Weapons | Dislikes | - Being a Prince - Reading | Kin | - King Torsten Drakkos: Father; 53; Alive - Queen Eydis Drakkos: Mother; 50; Deceased - Leoric Drakkos: Older Brother; 33; Deceased - Zemislav Drakkos: Older Brother; 30; Alive - Cyprian Drakkos: Older Brother; 28; Alive - Alaric Drakkos: Younger Brother; 24; Alive - Njal Drakkos: Younger Brother; 19; Alive - Colette Drakkos: Younger Sister; 14; Alive |
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"Guards! Fetch Geneviève and bring her here immediately! It's urgent!" An older man sat on a golden throne in the throne room, his scrawny fingers tapping against the armrest as he waited for the guards to leave the room. His dull grey eyes watched as the guards scrambled to get out of the room to fetch the woman that he asked for. A golden crown with rubies embedded into them sat on top of his salt and peppered hair. His cheeks are slightly sunken from the years of his aging. Everyone fears that he won't be lasting much longer, which would in return cause his daughter, the Princess, to rule over the kingdom since the Queen passed away years ago. Many knew that she would be a great ruler, yet, she lacked the ability to make logical and rewarding decisions, which is why the courts made a decision behind his back. The wooden doors at the end of the room opened forcefully to reveal a woman. Her hair was pulled back in a braid that came over her shoulder with two pieces framing her heart-shaped face. She wore a navy blue off-the-shoulder long sleeve shirt, having noticeable freckles spread across her shoulders and chest be seen. Black pants hugged to her hips, having a pair of shiny black knee-high boots to finish off the look. She is usually in some sort of armor, but considering the attire she is wearing, she was summoned when she was off-duty. A sword hung at her waist, having her hand rest on the hilt in case she has to draw it out at the last minute and for her comfort in general. Her footsteps were light and precise, having them barely make a sound in the quiet throne room. Her heterochromatic eyes flickered around the room, a slight furrow on her face as to why she was called here so suddenly. She stopped before the King and knelt before him, waiting for him to tell her she can rise. As much as she hates royalty with a burning passion, this royal family isn't too bad. If anything, she knows that the King almost considers her as his daughter. She listened as he ordered everyone out of the room before calling the Princess in. This only caused her furrow to grow deeper as to what the meaning behind this meeting could be. She doesn't remember the last time that the King called her into the throne room with the Princess and ordered everyone out. Actually, this has never happened before. What in the world could be happening to where he doesn't want anyone but them to hear what this meeting is about? "Rise, Geneviève." He said, his voice worn out from the years. A string of coughs started to rack his body for a few moments before they settled down. He seems to have only gotten worse since the last time she has seen him. "What's so urgent that you called for me, Ashton?" She asked as she rose to her feet. She only ever used the King's name whenever they were in private without anyone else around. She looked over at the Princess, seeing that she is just as confused as she is. "I mean, I hope it is urgent considering you actually ordered people out of the room to talk to us about whatever this topic could be. Oh, and I was also having a lovely time off before you called me in for duty." "It is an urgent meeting that will be put into action as soon as this discussion is done." He said as he stood up, grabbing the silver cane that was leaning against his throne next to him. He wobbled slightly as he walked down the steps. He motioned for his daughter to follow him, having her quickly come down the steps till she was standing right next to them. "The courts made a decision behind my back, thinking it will be a great investment. I do have to say that it is an excellent investment too." He explained, causing both of the girls to raise their brows at this. "An arranged marriage between Kiera and Prince Kyril has been made." Her whole body went rigid when Ashton spoke those words. She wasn't sure she heard those worse right, but when she looked at Kiera, she knew she did. She had the look of utter shock on her face, her jaw hanging wide open. Geneviève could only shake her head before she started pacing. She wasn't going to let the Princess and her best friend get married to the enemy, let alone one they have been at war with for years. Sure, she understands that the court probably did this to end the war, but that didn't mean that an arranged marriage had to be made. For god's sake, she has heard nothing good about the other Kingdom for years. She isn't going to let them get their hands on what she considers to be her sister. "With all due respect, Ashton, there is no way I'm going to agree to send Kiera over there, let alone have her marry that god-forsaken Prince." She growled, her pacing seeming to only quicken the more she talked. She wasn't going to mention that she used to be part of that Kingdom before she came over here. She has kept that secret for years and there is no way in hell she is going to be revealing it anytime soon. She will be taking it to her grave no matter what the actions that must be taken to keep it that way. "Ashton, you must reconsider this." She pleaded as she finally stopped pacing. She needed to come up with a plan if she didn't want to send Kiera over to enemy lines. "What is done is done, dear." He said with a small sigh. He wished it didn't have to come to this, but it was the only way for the war to stop and so Kiera didn't have to rule while a war was still going on when he passed. "Though, I have an idea." He saw how this perked both of the girls' interest, knowing that he has their attention. Well, at least Geneviève's for now. "I don't want her going over there as much as you do, Gen. So, I'm going to propose something. What if you posed to be Kiera since they haven't seen what she looks like since she is always behind the castle walls?" Geneviève blinked slowly, her insides recoiling at the thought of posing as royalty. "You want me to do what now?" She asked slowly and incuriously. How could he suggest that she of all people who hate royalty have her pose as the Princess? She viciously shook her head, stray strands of hair falling out of her braid from the motion. "Absolutely not! There is no way I am going to pose as royalty!" Her voice was raised to show that there was no way she was going to go through with this proposal. "Have you not met me? I'm the opposite of Kiera. She is this sweet and bubbly person and I'm this hardcore merciless Knight that eats bones for breakfast." She said, making the last part of her sentence sarcastic. "There is no way I will be able to pass as her. Can you really see me as a bubbly and sweet person?" "She has a point, father." Kiera said, knowing that her friend won't be able to pass as her. "Gen is far from being sweet and bubbly. I don't think I remember the last time she was so bubbly with someone besides us." She explained, hoping that her father sees reason as to why they can't send Geneviève to pose as her. "I have no choice to send Kiera over there then. I don't trust anyone except for you, Geneviève, to pose in her place." Ashton explained, hoping that will tip the boat on having Gen agree to play the part. Geneviève grumbled under her breath, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked away from the pleading eyes of the King. She certainly doesn't want Kiera to go over there, even if she went with her. She just doesn't want to put her best friend potentially in harm's way. Sadly, the only way to prevent that is for her to go in Kiera's place, much to her dismay. She groaned, her head shaking that she is actually going to be agreeing with this. After all these years of hating royalty, she is going to end up posing as one. How much more ironic can that get? Rather, why must she have such a weakness to these two? "Fine. I will do it. But-" She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze flickering between the both of them. "I can't promise I will be good because it is far from my nature. I don't even consider myself being a lady since I don't even act as one in the first place, but I'll try my best." She then remembered one thing, hoping that she doesn't have to do this as it is only going to be torture for her. "Can I not wear dresses?" She asked, hopeful that the King will say yes. She despises them and just hopes she doesn't have to wear them. "No. You must wear them as that is what being a Princess is." He said as he turned around and slowly made his way up the steps. He stumbled for a moment but caught himself with his cane. He took a seat once more on his throne, seeing how displeased she is that she must wear dresses. "You also can't be carrying your sword around considering Princesses aren't allowed any." Her jaw dropped to the floor as her grip on the hilt of the sword tighten. He did not just tell her she can't have the one thing on her that will protect her over there. Sure, she is going to have guards, but they are useless and aren't as skilled as she is. She is already agreeing to pose as a Princess and wear a dress, but now she can't have her sword at her hip at all times? "What the hell? What else do I have to give up to be this 'Princess'?" She asked with air quotes and her words just dripping with utter sarcasm. "Do I also have to walk with grace?" She said as she moved across the floor and mocked how Kiera walks. She walked with an exaggerated sway of her hips and her head held up high with her chin tilted up as if she is the most important person in the world. Both of them laughed at her, knowing she is only trying to make herself feel better about agreeing to this. "Of course not. Just be yourself. Though, do try and be somewhat nice and approachable. Have a smile on your face. It makes people like you and actually approach you instead of that sullen look you always have. Do this for our kingdom. Do this for Avalonia." Kiera said, having her father nod his head in agreement. She groaned, knowing that being nice is far from any word in her vocabulary. She doesn't even remember the last time she was nice to someone that wasn't either Ashton or Kiera. "You better be grateful for this as I'm not happy." She grumbled as she turned around and started to head towards the doors. "I'll pack and get going then. Have the guards fetch me some gold so I can actually buy dresses and stuff. I'll write when I can to you guys. Take care, both of you!" She threw over her shoulders as she pushed the doors open and exited the throne room. What exactly did she get herself into? |
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The sound of wood splintering echoed around the room. Black shadows falling from the walls, leaving a disaster in their wake. The three other men in the room coward, afraid for their lives as they remained in the path of a storm brewing. A dangerous low hum coming from within the shadows, as they swallowed the room whole. The large table in the middle of the room that contained a map of the continent, seemingly snapped in half as shadows raced around it. An unknown force smashed the broken pieces of the table into the cracked walls. The cause of this reaction stood unscathed at the end of the room. Shadows pooled at his feet, like a fire going out. Prince Kyril Drakkos. The ruthless, cunning, arrogant General of the Vraeria Military. The male much preferred to be recognized as the lethal General of his Kingdom than a Prince. He wanted to bury that title, next to his mother and brother. The giant of a man, glared daggers at the wall opposite of him. His chest heaving, as he let his rage run wild. Not a care for the disaster left behind. Stretching his arm out in front of him, the letter that arrived for him laid crumpled in his leather clad palm. Shadows swirled up his arm, reaching the crumpled parchment paper before seemingly disappearing into nothing. Shadows falling away from his hand like smoke. He dropped his hand back to his side. Stepping over the broken furniture, he passed the shivering men. "Clean this up." His voice dripped with authority. The double doors flew open as he took his leave. Mind racing, matching the speed of his wrath. To hell with the King. He wouldn't answer his fathers summons. An arranged marriage. His life wasn't a simple play thing for his father to toy with how he pleased. It was his life. He didn’t climb the ranks for years just to throw it all away for a marriage he didn’t even want in the first place. Marriage wasn’t in his future, or at least that’s how he saw it. How dare his father throw this on him. Off all his brothers, why him? The only way his father could get him to come back home was if he drugged him, tied him up, and threw him on the back of a horse. He wouldn’t go willing, or without putting up a fight that would go down in history. King Torsten liked to keep his sons close by. Kyril was the one that got away. Running off in the dead of night to join the ranks without his father knowing. King Torsten just about tore the Kingdom apart in search of his run away son. That was 8 years ago, when Kyril had only just turned 18. At the 2 year mark of Kyril running his father finally gave up. Just another year later, Kyril was a General. A young one at that with quite the reputation. At that point nothing could be done to return his son back home. It was odd when one really thought about it. His oldest son was 30 years of age yet he still had yet to flee the coop. Well, his sons didn’t have much control in that matter to begin with. *** A few days later… Mercenaries. His own father sent mercenaries for him. Baited and trapped. Kyril had only managed to kill a dozen if not more of the damned bastards. He’d have his fathers head for this embarrassment he’s placed on him. They weren’t just regular mercenaries either. They were the elite kind, the best one could hire. Guaranteed job well done kind. Hell, they must have shot 30+ darts into him before he gained a slight stumble. Still unwilling to back down. Another 15 darts before Kyril dropped to his knees. Managing to slice the neck of one more mercenary who dared to step too close. A few seconds later he was out like a light. Of course, the mercenaries hadn’t done their calculations correctly. With Kyril’s sheer size of course the regular dose doubles if not tripled to be able to take him out. Even then still fighting to the very last waking second. Just like that he found himself chained like a dog. Reaching for his ability he was met with nothing. Damn, they must have drugged him with a solution that dulled his ability. He grunted as he sat up, the chains rattling as he moved. A growl escaped his lips as he bumped his head on the low ceiling of the wagon that carried him hostage. Dried blood splattered on the bare parts of his skin. Without a doubt there was blood on his face. Of course, it wasn’t his own blood. He gazed at his wrists bound by thick chains. It rubbed his skin in an uncomfortable way. Who knows how long they had been on the road. Kyril was reporting to an outpost that was practically on the other side of the Continent. Coming from there back to the Kingdom was just under a month's travel time. He let his exhausted body slump to the wood. The motion of the wagon moving made him sick. Suddenly, the wagon halted. He sat up hurriedly, carefully so as to not knock himself out again. His ears strained to hear what was going on outside of the dark enclosed wagon. Swiftly sliding his large body to the bottom part of the wagon. Chains dragging behind him with the motion. His skin hummed. Shadows rolled off of him. He could feel his body surge with power. The solution must have worn off by now. Muffled voices spoke from outside, moving as they spoke to one another. His eyes narrowed as he readied himself. The locking mechanism creaked as the people outside opened it. Light seeped through the small opening. Kyril braced himself on his forearms as he waited a moment, before striking. Kicking the doors open the rest of the way, he heard an obvious crack and thump. Swinging his large body out of the wagon, he didn’t waste a second longer. Two men held their faces in their hands, groaning loudly. Blood seeped through their fingers. Using the chain that bound his wrists he wrapped it around one of the men’s necks. Yanking back, the man struggled against him. After a few more moments, the man stopped struggling, laying limp. Rising he snapped the other's neck. Taking in his surroundings, he cursed. He was home. Brought here against his will. They’d stop towards the back of the enormous palace. Searching the wagon, he found dozens of weapons. Loading his weapons back into their respective spots, he spun to look at the palace that loomed over him. So far he hadn’t been spotted. Seeing as the wagon arrived alone with only two guards, his father wanted to keep this under wraps. Not wanting to alert others that he just kidnapped his son. A storm brewed in his gray eyes, as he glared at the castle he was raised in. A puff of shadows dropped from his chained up wrist. A clank sounded as the chain link snapped with ease, releasing his wrists from their binds. The shackles still hugged his wrists, but he had range of motion now. Oddly enough he hadn’t passed a single breathing person as he made his way to the throne room. That was his father’s favorite place to lounge in for hours, if not the whole day. The man loved ordering those under him around like little puppets. Even his own child weren’t safe from his constant need to have control over everything and everyone. Although, the orders directed to his children was different. Those were along the lines of, “Attend classes.” Or, “Train more.” Hell, his least favorite was, “Stop slouching.” Just thinking of his childhood, only angered him more. Just what the hell was his father’s plan? Kyril’s footfalls were heavy and purposeful. The polished marble beneath his heavy boots cracked loudly with each step. Shadows leaving the cracks like smoke. The chains that dangled from his wrists and ankles rattled silently. With a flick of his fingers he threw the grand doors to the throne room open with a force strong enough to dent the walls. All eyes were on him in an instant. People backed away, leaving a direct path to where his father sat proudly on his black throne. Spikes spurted out from behind the throne. There were gasps as he charged forward. Not slowing his pace until he reached the first step to the throne. King Torsten looked amused at the sight of his long lost son, Kyril. “Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise.” His voice carried throughout the room. Fists balled at his side, as he glared daggers at his father. The shackles around his wrists and ankles dropped to the ground. “Get to explaining yourself old man. My patience is running low.” He growled, venom dripped from his words. The King chuckled, “Thats no way to greet your father, son.” There was amusement in the King’s voice, as he addressed his son. Shadows raced across the ground. In one swift motion, the King’s crown toppled to the ground. A crack echoed out. Gasps rippled through the crowd. The King’s jaw clenched as he eyed his broken crown. A piece of the amethyst stone had chipped. There was deafening silence for a moment. Kyril never taking his eyes off his father. “Leave. Everyone leave!” His voice boomed, as he stood up abruptly. Footsteps shuffled quickly, as people scurried to exit the room. Once it was just the two of them, his father sat down. His hand rubbing at his coarse black beard, his eyes trained on his son. “Clearly, theres been a misunderstanding between us, son.” His tone was calm. Too calm. “The war is over.” He shrugged his shoulders. Kyril scoffed, “Yeah, and what did it cost you, huh.” It wasn’t a question. There was silence between the two. “My son.” He finally answered. Kyril shook his head in utter disbelief. “Oh don’t give me that bullshit, Torsten! This is all because I left, isn’t it?!” He snapped at his father. He stalked up the steps like a predator about to pounce on it’s prey. “You can’t handle not being in complete control for five gods damned seconds, you power hungry pig!” He seethed. “What next?! You want me to forfeit my title as General so I can what? Play house under your damn roof?!” His chest heaved, as rage radiated off of his body. King Torsten just looked upon his son in utter silence. “I choose to put an end to this war. To save thousands of our peoples lives. To put a stop to this bloodshed!” He hissed. “I did not propose this marriage-” Kyril cut his father off. “But you picked me! Out of all of your damn sons, you picked me!” He snapped. Kyril didn’t care for the war coming to end. Good. He could use a well deserved break. The matter he wanted to discuss was the arranged marriage that was placed onto his shoulders. He was met with more deafening silence. “Because you're heir to the Throne, Kyril.” His tone was calm as he spoke his truth. He shook his head, “Have you lost your memory, Torsten? Zemislav and Cyprian are next in line for the Throne." He corrected his father with a sneer. "Your brothers married outside of the Royal Kingdoms. They forfeited their rights to the Throne." His father shoot back. What? When did his brothers get married? He shook his head, this didn't make sense. Why would his brothers do that? "It's you Kyril. You're next in line for King." |
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Winter 
Night Weather: 
Blizzard Moon: 
