Fantasy 𝐀 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 & 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

[social]

Petals and ribbons floated through the air as the streets bustled with excitement, both within commonfolk and nobility. Carriages thundered across cobblestone as dragons flew overhead, bearing gifts and well wishes for the young couple. Princess Maeryn Velaeris, the youngest daughter of the King and Queen, was to be married to a prince of Vashil, and what a wonderful match it was going to be. Vashil, ever the loyal and trusting ally of Nordua had finally secured their place at the side of the most powerful monarchs in the Realm. That was an accomplishment not easily overlooked. The people of Nordua were overjoyed. Their beloved princess was to be celebrated and adored as she started her new chapter in life.

From all corners of Nordua, nobility arrived, even some from outside of the continent came to celebrate this union, pleased to see that the royal line had strengthened once again. Nobody forgot the tragedy of the Crown Princess’s husband dying in battle a few years prior. It shook Nordua as they came together to mourn for the crown and the children that were left behind. But now, it was time to celebrate life. Within the palace walls, children giggled and sang as they ran through the halls, flowers adorning every guest and decoration, at Maeryn’s request, it seemed like the castle was in full bloom. The ceremony was held and it went flawlessly, petals being tossed into the air as the people gave congratulations to the couple and their future.

Time passed but it was all enjoyable and safe. There was not a tear of sadness or fear, it was perfect. As the day turned to night, torches and candles were set alight, casting a gentle glow within the great hall as nobles and royals sat down and began to enjoy the feast that was provided for them. Music swirled about the room as the royal family sat at the front of the room, the newly wedded couple at the center of the large table, allowing them to engage with their family and guests if they approached. Dancing was encouraged to take place within the center of the room if guests wanted, or they could simply eat and drink for this was just the beginning of a large celebration that would be held over multiple days.

MAERYN'S

WEDDING

coded by social

Spoiler: uncoded

Petals and ribbons floated through the air as the streets bustled with excitement, both within commonfolk and nobility. Carriages thundered across cobblestone as dragons flew overhead, bearing gifts and well wishes for the young couple. Princess Maeryn Velaeris, the youngest daughter of the King and Queen, was to be married to a prince of Vashil, and what a wonderful match it was going to be. Vashil, ever the loyal and trusting ally of Nordua had finally secured their place at the side of the most powerful monarchs in the Realm. That was an accomplishment not easily overlooked. The people of Nordua were overjoyed. Their beloved princess was to be celebrated and adored as she started her new chapter in life.

From all corners of Nordua, nobility arrived, even some from outside of the continent came to celebrate this union, pleased to see that the royal line had strengthened once again. Nobody forgot the tragedy of the Crown Princess’s husband dying in battle a few years prior. It shook Nordua as they came together to mourn for the crown and the children that were left behind. But now, it was time to celebrate life. Within the palace walls, children giggled and sang as they ran through the halls, flowers adorning every guest and decoration, at Maeryn’s request, it seemed like the castle was in full bloom. The ceremony was held and it went flawlessly, petals being tossed into the air as the people gave congratulations to the couple and their future.

Time passed but it was all enjoyable and safe. There was not a tear of sadness or fear, it was perfect. As the day turned to night, torches and candles were set alight, casting a gentle glow within the great hall as nobles and royals sat down and began to enjoy the feast that was provided for them. Music swirled about the room as the royal family sat at the front of the room, the newly wedded couple at the center of the large table, allowing them to engage with their family and guests if they approached. Dancing was encouraged to take place within the center of the room if guests wanted, or they could simply eat and drink for this was just the beginning of a large celebration that would be held over multiple days.

 

[NUSKI]

Heir of the Eryas Keep

Cassius Harringlor

THE BEAR OF TUN

Maeryn's Wedding

Cassius had relegated himself to the sidelines for most of the night, observing the lively festivities with a sense of restlessness. The man sighed softly as he adjusted his shoulder on the pillar he was leaning on, his eyes slowly drifting over Princess Maeryn and the royal family as another cascade of flower petals showered around him. Young children sprinted past him with baskets of petals in hand, their laughter quickly drowned out by the chatter of nobles. The scene around him almost felt surreal, a stark contrast to the day-to-day of the Keep that often occupied his thoughts. Cassius's gaze hardened briefly as he thought of the responsibilities waiting for him back home.

As he looked up from his musings, he saw his sister at his side, holding one cup close to her chest, another cup extended towards him with a teasing smile. Together, the pair presented themselves in matching attire of dark green. Jorunn, in a flowing gown of deep forest green, shimmered with delicate beadwork that trailed gracefully behind her as she walked. Cassius wore a more subdued ensemble, practicality over extravagance evident in his tunic of matching dark green, accented with simple silver embroidery along the collar and cuffs.

"You look like you're having fun," Jorunn started, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. Cassius rolled his eyes, taking the cup from her hand and frowning down at its contents. She took a sip from her cup, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she teased her brother, knowing well his discomfort with such lavish gatherings.

"Fun isn't the word I'd use," Cassius replied dryly before he raised his cup in the direction of his parents, who were slowly dancing together, their mother guiding their father as he leaned on his cane for support.

Jorunn followed his gaze, softening. "Look at them, Cassius. Even they’re enjoying themselves. Maybe you could try, just for tonight?"

Cassius sighed, taking a reluctant sip from his cup. "You mean for the next three or four nights... though I suppose it's hard to ignore everyone else having a good time." He glanced over to the center of the room, where his brother was making a spectacle of himself, dancing energetically and eliciting laughter from the other guests. "Speaking of which, it looks like Falkor has started early," he said, shaking his head with disappointment.

Jorunn laughed, the sound light and carefree. "He always finds a way to stand out, doesn't he? But seriously, Cassius, you don’t have to brood in the corner all night. Just try to enjoy it. For me?" Cassius snorted obnoxiously before downing the cup of wine in one go, ignoring Jorunn's exaggerated gasp.

"You see them?" he questioned after raising his head in the direction of two people on the opposite end of the room. "Follow my lead," Cassius continued, his voice low. "I'll make use of this gathering in my own way."

"This should be fun," Jorunn replied, as she fell in step beside him. The siblings then began to make their way through the crowd, heading toward Lord Brackwell and Princess Daella. Cassius placed his empty cup on a nearby table before squeezing past some nobles and clearing his throat. Straightening his back, he folded his arms behind him.

"Lord Brackwell, Princess Daella," Cassius began, as Jorunn bowed her head in the direction of the princess, quickly adopting a polite smile. "Cassius Harringlor, and this is my sister, Jorunn. It has been some time since I've ventured this far south so I wished to take a moment to reintroduce ourselves before the festivities conclude." Cassius' gaze shifted briefly to the princess, his close-lipped smile respectful but strained. "Princess, forgive my candour, but I can't help but notice the architectural opulence of the southern court. It's quite a departure from the sturdy fortifications we favour in the north," Cassius remarked, his tone carrying a hint of reserved pride. "One wonders if such grandeur truly serves the same purpose as our resilient strongholds in the North."

"My mother speaks highly of you both, particularly of your unwavering dedication to the realm. We are truly honoured to be in your esteemed company tonight." Jorunn interjected smoothly, her tone a delicate balance of diplomacy and deference. "We appreciate the opportunity to witness the grace and refinement of the southern court." She glanced briefly at Cassius, a silent cue to temper his northern pride which he calmly ignored, maintaining his composure.

Code by Serobliss

 

[tieflinq]

By the gods, Belphoebe thought, dreamily, today has been perfect.

Her hair, piled high and reinforced with copious skeins of extensions, was thoroughly dappled with wayward petals, and her cheeks had been flushed with delight since her arrival. Perhaps even before her arrival. After all, there was little she liked more than a wedding - except, perhaps, a wedding of her own, where she could guarantee that the attention would be all hers, but such matters were far from her mind while the music swelled and the sounds of laughter and song distracted her. Ordinarily, such distractions would be rationed - she would be confined to her parents' watchful gazes, forced to listen to conversations about trade and borders and such, allowed to dance only a scant handful of times. This gathering, however, had been something of an experiment for the elder Galariuses. It had been a decision partly motivated by her father's ailing health and clear inability to travel to the wedding, but Belphoebe had chosen to take this as a sign that she was excelling in her preparations to lead her family; they had let her attend alone! Not alone alone, of course, for she required several patient and robust ladies to help dress her, and strapping young men who carried her endlessly weighty trunks, but alone enough for her to dance and laugh as much as she pleased. She had already partaken in the sweet honeyed wine far more than she would have usually been permitted, and it was clear from her bright gaze and stained lips that Belphoebe was fully in the celebratory spirit.

There were so many companions to choose from! Her seaglass gaze darted from face to face, occasionally veering wildly when a particularly colourful outfit caught her attention, and she considered who she ought to bless with her affections. The wider Velaeris family offered her a number of choices, all of which would no doubt be approved of by her parents, and all of which should provide her with ample opportunity to sweeten the well from which she would soon draw her bucket. But... ah, but. But Belphoebe didn't want to do that. She would make a valiant attempt to initiate intelligent conversation, but she would soon grow fatigued, no doubt, and then what? What if she grew so distracted that she trod on someone's foot, or agreed where she ought to disagree? Mamma would never let her travel alone again, if word of her faux pas reached Sea's Heart. Instead, then, she decided to seek out entertainment that would bring no consequences to her door.

Tall and pale and looming like a storm over a ship's prow, Lady Vaelor could not be further from Belphoebe's usual social circle. Even better, being from Tun, she could not be further from Belphoebe's circle of obligation, either. What use had Sea's Heart for Tun? Surely none. Well, she could not be entirely sure, for her memory for allegiances and trade was shabby at best, but she was confident enough to begin her skipping little steps across the hall towards the imposing woman. When she drew near, she swept down into an exquisite curtsey, one hand splayed over her heart to keep her plunging neckline from plunging any further, and then bobbed upright with a bright smile. "Why, Lady Vaelor! You look so well for one who must have travelled so very far to attend. You simply must indulge in a little Rhaeclyan hospitality."

RascalRoadkill

 

[junegloom]

scroll

heir of starmark keep

Illysia.

outfit

outfit

location

The Royal Wedding

interactions

Malyx and Maella Celaleos

tags

none

For the first time in a long time, Illysia felt quite light and free. It had been two years since her brother had been killed and it was time for some levity. The occasion was happy and the air was sweet with the scent of blooming flowers and celebration. She held great affection for the younger princess and was pleased to see her reach such a milestone in her life.

The journey to Rhaeclya was a pleasant one, with calm seas and comfortable weather. Illysia and her parents sailed one of their smaller, but sturdy ships. They arrived the evening before the wedding, allowing them to settle in that night so they could spend the morning of the wedding getting ready without concern.

Once the ceremony began, Illysia took charge of her youngest niece and nephew as the twins were too young to participate in the ceremony. While Vaerys was mature enough to attend the ceremony with Daenara, they were far too interested in playing and moving around and would likely disrupt the process. Illysia didn't mind whatsoever. She loved spending time with her brother's children. Of course, they reminded her of Cassian, but only in the best way. Seeing him live through them brought her great joy.

During the ceremony, Illysia helped the twins make flower crowns using a number of the blooms that surrounded them. Malyx sat in her lap as they twisted the flowers together while Maella was of less help, preferring to twirl around with a ribbon stick acting like a fairy. The twins, especially, Maella, insisted that Illysia matched them despite already wearing a headpiece, so they compromised by making her a necklace of flowers.

Illysia wore it proudly as the twins wore their crowns. She held their hands and led them into the Great Hall when it was time for the festivities to begin. Music and chatter echoed and the aroma of the feast filled the room. Maella was practically skipping pulling towards the dance floor.

"Let's dance, Aunt Illysia! Please can we dance? I want to twirl more!"

Illysia signed in faux resignation, but a smile grew on her lips.

"Alright, but only one dance. You two need to eat before you are sent up to bed and I'm sure your mother would like to see you too."

She was never very good at saying no to her niece and nephews. Once they found a clear space, the three of them held hands, forming a circle, while Maella led them skipping from side to side in time with the music. Even shy Malyx couldn't help but laugh and smile at Maella's enthusiasm.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Zaruslala]

Heiress of Dragon's Roost

location

grand hall.

mood

broken yet unbowed.

outfit

01. 02. 03.

mentions

youngiiie RascalRoadkill .

Nadja Veltarol.

Shattered glass splintered the otherwise tranquil garden, a high, brittle pitch that would’ve drawn glances had she chosen a more popular hiding spot. Nadja Verltarol could only chuckled darkly, her back slumped against one of the giant columns, left hand dusting off any stray shrapnel. In one swift motion, she tipped the stem of another glass to her mouth, emptying its contents.

And that was, she mused bitterly, dark pupils fixed on the distant sky, my heart.

The drink scorched her throat as it made its fiery descent. While she didn’t relish the sensation, it was one she desperately needed to quell the bitterness gnawing at her core. From internal to external–from something that she couldn’t excise or defeat into something that she could control at will.

Clumps of grey greeted her, hanging heavy and low on the darkened horizon, sluggishly drifting through the warm southern wind. Hours had passed since the Marriage of Fire, and she had to endure this torture for three more days before escaping back to the bureaucracies of Dragon’s Roost. By now, people back home would be folding their sails, tying their vessels securely to the docks, or racing against time to safety. Her uncle would be hurrying the servants to cover his precious collection of exotic plants. She bet he’d dig into his vault and hand something to Nadja upon her return.

A consolation prize for a job well done.

—

Nadja’s heart had been drumming like a war gong, slamming against its cage of flesh from the moment she beheld the youngest princess's visage. Maeryn was always a vision to behold, but the princess in a wedding dress left Nadja fumbling for words. The bouquet left in the vase seemed to bow in deference, their colors paling against the delicate swish of her lips. Blushing flowers spilled down the canopy above the grand entrance to the private ceremony, filling the air with a sweetness so cloying it turned bitter at the back of Nadja’s throat–yet it still couldn’t stop her from being ensnared by the princess’s every gesture, a mix of dread and longing tightening her chest until the royal couple left to seal their vow in private.

Hakim was competent, and that was the problem. Nadja had hoped for a more detestable match, someone she could freely and fully despise with all her being. Yet, the second Prince of Vashil was a sensible choice politically. Rumors slithering through the streets painted a favorable picture of the Little Lion, if not the dances they sparingly exchanged over the past two months. While Nadja might have wished for her dear cousin's prowess in swordsmanship matched the tales, his strategic acumen was enough to silence any gaps that might arise. She found solace in knowing that Maeryn wouldn’t be stuck to a bumbling fool, and knowing that the princess would definitely be cherished by the two nations, Nadja was left with no compelling reason to oppose the match, despite the ache in her heart.

His knowing glances had also not gone unnoticed. Both him and her had played their subtle game, testing boundaries and intentions. Perhaps there would be room for negotiation. Extramarital affairs were not uncommon in political unions, and Hakim’s understanding might allow Nadja a sliver of hope–a chance to keep Maeryn close, even if only in secret perhaps. Leaving this little leeway to her would gain him two strong alliances in one fell swoop.

That is, if the princess even reciprocates her feelings.

Or even aware of its existence.

Despite Nadja’s best efforts, the stone lodged in her chest betrayed the curved lips and forced laughter. She was neither rabbit nor prey, yet the kinship with those dying of broken hearts felt painfully real. The biggest hurdle had been passed– letting Maeryn leave. As the afternoon sun hit Nadja’s forehead, boiling her eyes until they resembled the burnished gold medals on her chest, she could only offer a stony smile in return of Maeryn’s eye contact, afraid that any further reply would shatter her mask.

With swift, precise instruction, she gestured for her servants to bring forth the gifts as she forcefully bore the expression of false contentment.

Once it concluded, she bolted as gracefully as she could.

—

Alas, duty beckoned and she couldn’t afford to linger in the shadows any longer. Nadja pushed herself off the column, drawing in a sharp breath as she straightened her posture. Her earrings chimed softly with each step, a delicate reminder of the mask she had to don once more. Inside the grand hall, Maeryn and Hakim should still reigned over the banquet, their thrones surrounded by a swirl of sycophants. Nadja envisioned herself among them, her laughter mingling with theirs, her movements poised. She would share a dance, offer hollow pleasantries, and play her part to perfection.

The chimes of mingleing greeted her as she stepped back into the hall, the festive air so thick it could be cut with a knife. Her metal claw clinked as she deftly put down her empty glass to the waiting tray of a passing servant. With a small prayer to Tiuna, she put on her best smile and sauntered closer to the middle of the room, drawn to a familiar face.

“Good Sire, may I have this dance?"

coded by natasha.

 

[youngiiie]

Heiress of Dragon's Roost

location

grand hall.

mood

broken yet unbowed.

outfit

top. earring. claws.

mentions

youngiiie RascalRoadkill .

Nadja Veltarol.

Shattered glass splintered the otherwise tranquil garden, a high, brittle pitch that would’ve drawn glances had she chosen a more popular hiding spot. Nadja Verltarol could only chuckled darkly, her back slumped against one of the giant columns, left hand dusting off any stray shrapnel. In one swift motion, she tipped the stem of another glass to her mouth, emptying its contents.

And that was, she mused bitterly, dark pupils fixed on the distant sky, my heart.

The drink scorched her throat as it made its fiery descent. While she didn’t relish the sensation, it was one she desperately needed to quell the bitterness gnawing at her core. From internal to external–from something that she couldn’t excise or defeat into something that she could control at will.

Clumps of grey greeted her, hanging heavy and low on the darkened horizon, sluggishly drifting through the warm southern wind. Hours had passed since the Marriage of Fire, and she had to endure this torture for three more days before escaping back to the bureaucracies of Dragon’s Roost. By now, people back home would be folding their sails, tying their vessels securely to the docks, or racing against time to safety. Her uncle would be hurrying the servants to cover his precious collection of exotic plants. She bet he’d dig into his vault and hand something to Nadja upon her return.

A consolation prize for a job well done.

—

Nadja’s heart had been drumming like a war gong, slamming against its cage of flesh from the moment she beheld the youngest princess's visage. Maeryn was always a vision to behold, but the princess in a wedding dress left Nadja fumbling for words. The bouquet left in the vase seemed to bow in deference, their colors paling against the delicate swish of her lips. Blushing flowers spilled down the canopy above the grand entrance to the private ceremony, filling the air with a sweetness so cloying it turned bitter at the back of Nadja’s throat–yet it still couldn’t stop her from being ensnared by the princess’s every gesture, a mix of dread and longing tightening her chest until the royal couple left to seal their vow in private.

Hakim was competent, and that was the problem. Nadja had hoped for a more detestable match, someone she could freely and fully despise with all her being. Yet, the second Prince of Vashil was a sensible choice politically. Rumors slithering through the streets painted a favorable picture of the Little Lion, if not the dances they sparingly exchanged over the past two months. While Nadja might have wished for her dear cousin's prowess in swordsmanship matched the tales, his strategic acumen was enough to silence any gaps that might arise. She found solace in knowing that Maeryn wouldn’t be stuck to a bumbling fool, and knowing that the princess would definitely be cherished by the two nations, Nadja was left with no compelling reason to oppose the match, despite the ache in her heart.

His knowing glances had also not gone unnoticed. Both him and her had played their subtle game, testing boundaries and intentions. Perhaps there would be room for negotiation. Extramarital affairs were not uncommon in political unions, and Hakim’s understanding might allow Nadja a sliver of hope–a chance to keep Maeryn close, even if only in secret perhaps. Leaving this little leeway to her would gain him two strong alliances in one fell swoop.

That is, if the princess even reciprocates her feelings.

Or even aware of its existence.

Despite Nadja’s best efforts, the stone lodged in her chest betrayed the curved lips and forced laughter. She was neither rabbit nor prey, yet the kinship with those dying of broken hearts felt painfully real. The biggest hurdle had been passed– letting Maeryn leave. As the afternoon sun hit Nadja’s forehead, boiling her eyes until they resembled the burnished gold medals on her chest, she could only offer a stony smile in return of Maeryn’s eye contact, afraid that any further reply would shatter her mask.

With swift, precise instruction, she gestured for her servants to bring forth the gifts as she forcefully bore the expression of false contentment.

Once it concluded, she bolted as gracefully as she could.

—

Alas, duty beckoned and she couldn’t afford to linger in the shadows any longer. Nadja pushed herself off the column, drawing in a sharp breath as she straightened her posture. Her earrings chimed softly with each step, a delicate reminder of the mask she had to don once more. Inside the grand hall, Maeryn and Hakim should still reigned over the banquet, their thrones surrounded by a swirl of sycophants. Nadja envisioned herself among them, her laughter mingling with theirs, her movements poised. She would share a dance, offer hollow pleasantries, and play her part to perfection.

The chimes of mingleing greeted her as she stepped back into the hall, the festive air so thick it could be cut with a knife. Her metal claw clinked as she deftly put down her empty glass to the waiting tray of a passing servant. With a small prayer to Tiuna, she put on her best smile and sauntered closer to the middle of the room, drawn to a familiar face.

“Good Sire, may I have this dance?"

coded by natasha.

finnian blackmont | main hall

---

the beautiful music and joyous laughter erupting from the main hall filled finnian blackmont's heart with much excitement. it was quite rare for such a historic event to take place and finnian was finally old enough to partake in the wedding's events. he wasn't a child anymore and his parents had decided that a wedding could be a perfect place for him to develop deeper connections with many of the other heirs that would be attending. his father, andreas, wanted finnian to use this opportunity to reassure the other houses that the future of spinel keep was in good hands. however, finnian had other plans. those plans included chests full of shimmering jewels, exquisite fabrics, and the most ornate necklaces and bracelets that he owned. the young heir's plan was to remind the attendees that he was one of the pride and joys of araes. he always took it upon himself to show up and show out wherever he went. it was rare to ever see finnian in the public eye clothed in basic garments. araes had a reputation for their beautiful people. the blackmont family was no exception. even andreas, who had seen many battles in his lifetime, took extra care to reflect the aesthetic of araes. no matter what anyone said about spinel keep, their physical beauty was undisputed.

finnian stood in the center of the main hall, a half empty glass of wine in hand. his posture was almost inhumanly straight and his face lacked a single blemish. his healing factor was responsible for his appearance. while often criticized for only using it on himself, he ensured that he would embody the ethereal beauty that araes was so proud of. as he gracefully sipped from his wine glass, the jewels attached to his garments quietly clinked together. finnian was wearing a form fitting white outfit, covered head to toe in diamonds and jewels sourced from the mines in spinel keep. if a ray of sun shone down on him, there was a risk he'd light up like a disco ball. he made sure that his outfit wasn't so over the top to openly disrespect the bride and groom but enough to draw eyes. the heir thrived off of attention, even more so from envy. he loved to be on other people's minds and the subject of other people's conversations. he was determined to be the star that shone the brightest and a four day wedding was just the place to prove that.

hearing a familiar voice, finnian turned around. the corners of his lips rose into a warm smile. "you certainly may, my lady." the male responded, placing his glass down on one of the tables beside him.

finnian's eyes silenty studied the younger woman as they began their dance. he knew this day must have been quite difficult for her and he pitied her for it. it could not have been easy to sit on the sidelines and watch as the one she loved married somebody else. he was impressed by how well she was holding up. if it were him, he would be throwing an intoxicated fit somewhere. some unfortunate servant would be the subject of his long rage filled rant about the cruelties of the world and how hard the life of a noble is. thankfully for everyone, he was not in her place. that being said, he sympathized with her.

"we've already been dancing for a minute now and you've yet to comment on my attire tonight. i'm not sure if i should feel more hurt or offended." finnian joked in an effort to try and cheer nadja up. normally, an obnoxious statement like that from finnian would've been accompanied by an equally obnoxious smirk to match. however, his face seemed kind. his eyes were searching to see if his joke had successfully lightened her spirits. there was a softness to his voice too, a subtle sign that finnian was (in his own way) attempting to be there for her.

 

[RascalRoadkill]

• Hakim
• Freyja

• 
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  Hakim Al-Amin is a cuckoo in a warbler's nest, as it stands.
  
  Or a dragon's- that might be more apt. Do dragons have brood parasites-? No, curious as he is, that line of thought is completely irrelevant in this moment, but he knows why he begins to go down that trail. His mind wants to wander ever-so desperately just to forget what's meant to happen.
  
  Or, maybe it does pose a relevant similarity- he is indeed a brood parasite. One being fed by benefactors that have no idea of the threat he poses to their survival. It is as it is in nature- he is installed in a foreign family, then his presence eats them alive.
  
  Throughout the entirety of the private union- the tradition in which he bleeds into the dragon's flame with very few souls to ever see it, he felt like a heretic and a trespasser. In front of the very eyes of the Gods, he quietly lied- not in any speech, but in action. In front of her, her parents, and the officiant, he bled, and silently claimed that he will make their nation and his own prosper against all odds.
  
  He will be the King of Rhaeclya- but not as late in life as everyone expects. So, perhaps he did not lie… but only if the Gods accept such technicalities.
  
  Hakim threatened to break then and there, but he unfortunately stood firm and smiled with as much genuine feeling as he could possibly muster. He thought that would be the worse of it; but dealing with the sycophants and well-wishes of the entire nation face-to-face is far more terrible. In the front hall, seated beside her, his mounting anxieties were beginning to make him feel unwell, on the brink of overwhelming him. Hakim is, though, skilled in masking himself if nothing else in this world- so he smiles, shows no signs of his apprehension, converses, remains personable, and says all the right things that everyone wants to hear.
  
  Except for one- he cannot tell her what she wants to hear, as his very actions would contradict the words. His dear cousin Nadja, little as he has ever seen her, has lost from this- there is nothing Hakim could have done for it, but he remains vigilantly aware of the bane all the same. It is worse that she knows Maeryn better; he can barely imagine the internal venom that must come from Hakim's asking of what she likes, what she does not, when he is the one binding himself to Maeryn and not her. He's not had much interaction with her, given the distance- but Hakim cannot help but feel a shred of sympathy for the plight all the same.
  
  There is one singular favor he can do Nadja, though, and it is simultaneously for himself; his hand taps the pommel of his ceremonial sword under the table, fastened to his side. That favor is to move her away from her family- the ones meant for this, and avoid any outright danger. To his family, he is simply ensuring all goes to plan- to Rhaeclya, he conveniently saved the hide of their dear princess by sheer coincidence.
  
  Hakim wishes Maeryn were more terrible, so he could wash the guilt of being complicit in her family's murder from his hands- but to his great tragedy, she is not. She has a bright laugh and a brilliant mind, meeting him on the same level of conversation more often than not- and that is enough to make his stomach turn.
  
  Still, he leans over to her in his chair when they have a momentary break in their greetings. “Maeryn,” he says, rather quietly, “are you any sort of dancer? It might be a welcome break from the… rather constant conversation.”
  

  
  

  
  
  
  social Zaruslala ment.
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  Freyja does not understand why she couldn't have just stayed well at home.
  
  Imagine, then- in the grand hall of Night's End, built to house swaths of warriors for feasts and banquets instead of being reserved for her family alone. Fire roaring, people laughing, good-natured drunken brawling. No, instead she's here, another face in a sea of faces here to tell some soft-looking prince and an equally soft princess just how right well and pleased she is that they've decided to tie the knot!
  
  Freyja isn't opposed to the whole thing by any means, she just… well, why does she in particular have to be here? Freyr surely would've understood why, something about alliances and politics… but Freyja has no mind for that sort of thing, and still doesn't.
  
  Curse her bloody, violent impulse. She looks down into a cup of too-weak wine with a grimace.
  
  Her eyes wander to Cassius and Jorunn for a sense of familiarity. Freyja's outfit isn't dissimilar from his; far plainer than the attire of just about everyone else in the room, the only extravagance on the black padded tunic being silver embroidery along its edges. Even then- nothing especially complex. But the Bear of Tun is preoccupied making the proper connections, as expected.
  
  Their "titles" fit them well, respectively. Cassius is a bear, of course- smarter, aware of the best times to strike and the best times to lie in wait, how to strengthen for an oncoming storm. Freyja is a boar- charging with wild abandon, goring everything in her path to achieve her aims.
  
  Now, though, she feels more of a hissing cat. Freyja has had her eyes narrowed for just about the entirety of the banquet and beyond- Rhaeclya is much too bright. If she's lucky, perhaps a few clouds might roll in to darken the sky, but it won't matter much for her if she remains stuck in the ballroom.
  
  The Lord and Lady of Night's End seemed rather self-aware in the sense that they expected their daughter to bristle and brood at the gathering, and thus sent along one of few Freyja would acknowledge to encourage her to keep her head while they mingled with the rest of the nobility- Ottar has been sent along with her as something of a conversational advisor, but as of current, he has absconded to give his well-wishes, graze along the lengthy table of food, and watch after Runi and Runa.
  
  His advice becomes necessary rather imminently as Freyja is approached. What, did she not understand when a Boar should be left to its devices? The sudden intrusion of the Lady of the Sea's Heart almost startles the warrior, tightly gripping a cup whose glass threatens to shatter in her hand. Freyja does not appear to return the formality in any way, stern expression remaining unchanged as she peers down.
  
  Well, Ottar is not present to advise, so this interaction will be entirely her own fight. She would honestly prefer her life to be in danger than to have to converse with any of the frivolous, vain bluebloods in this room. Freyja squints as she attempts to remember the name of this individual who apparently already knows hers.
  
  "Far? I suppose," is what she leaves it at, then tapping a finger against the tightly gripped glass. "I am indulging. In their weak drink, but I am drinking it. Their country is nearly too warm, and their palace is too…" she peers up, briefly, at the gilded expanse. "Bright. I dislike flaunting. But I do not hate being here. Still."
  

  
  

  
  
  
  NUSKI ment. tieflinq
  
  

 

[tieflinq]

Spoiler

i’ll make this look pretty tomo im in bed on me phone rn OOPS

PALLAS:

Like a pearl diver breaking through dark waters, already preparing to dive below again, Pallas had surfaced for air. The cool air of the gardens made the stuffiness of the wedding hall immediately apparent, and he had relished the reprieve. The absence of constant chatter was also notable; his ears rang faintly with the sounds of laughter and debate and chairs scraping across the stone floor, everything warping and melting into one singular hubbub. What had been intended as only a minute or two away from the party had stretched into five minutes, and then ten. He leaned precariously against a pillar, not wanting to sully his finery on this rare occasion that he was able to wear it, and lit his pipe. The breeze ghosted over his temples and cooled the sweat that had glued down stray wisps of dark hair. He enjoyed a moment of peace.

And then the Lady of Dragon’s Roost had appeared. Instinctively, Pallas’ magic had risen up to cloak him - not invisible per se, but rendered no more interesting than a bench or a potted plant, inviting one’s eyes to drift over him without settling for long. It had not been an easy task to conceal the smoke of his pipe, but it had become apparent almost immediately that Lady Veltarol would be in no position to spot him. Silent, curious, they committed all that they saw to memory, expression impassive and their dark eyes as watchful as a hunter’s hound. How interesting. It was not a secret within the palace that Lady Veltarol and the young Princess were close - but this shed new light on territory that Pallas had long considered to be well-trodden. New angles presented themselves. A fresh landscape unfolded before them, and they considered with quiet excitement the potential explorations that awaited. When Lady Veltarol departed, Pallas remained cloaked with magic for a few moments longer before releasing the enchantment and rewarding himself with a final puff of his pipe before he tamped out the embers flickering in the bowl.

Maeryn and Nadja, hm?

When a servant appeared and stooped to clear the glass away, Pallas was so invigorated by this new revelation that he volunteered to clean the mess himself. He greeted the serving girl with a crooked smile, her name escaping his grasp after an afternoon of wine and merriment but her clear resemblance to her mother enough for him to find common ground between them. While he swept the shards away, he enquired after her mother’s ailing back, recounted the names of several of her siblings, and offered to fetch her a drink from the party. She adamantly refused, of course; if she had accepted, he would have been a little horrified, and it was an offer made only to secure his position in her eyes as one of the “safe” members of the household. All in all, there had been plenty to be gained from what had been only a moment’s reprieve from the party.

Pallas gave the girl a gold piece along with her returned broom, before swiftly re-entering the hall. It would have been far too premature to attempt conversation with the fascinating Lady Veltarol, of course, so he instead followed his natural gravitational pull back towards the head table. His dark eyes flickered across each face in turn, waiting to seek out an opening in a conversation or a lone attendee in search of a partner.

 

[social]

The scent of florals was heavy in the air as she leaned against the back of her chair, slender fingers mindlessly tracing the edge of the wine goblet. Her gaze was calm and traced over the features of each guest, as well as those that sat at her table. Rich velvet clung to her figure and intricate embroidery of silver and gold depicted flowers that were similar to those which decorated the Great Hall. Gold jewelry glinted in the fire's light, lingering specifically on the large statement dragon that was coiled around her neck. A gift made specifically for her by her late husband, it was to honor her title and position within the Realm. And what a statement it was.

Her parents sat to her left while her son sat on her right, allowing her some relief from interacting with guests too frequently. Beside her father was her sister, the bride and subject of the celebration. Oh Maeryn, she seemed so pleased with the day’s events. It genuinely warmed Daenara’s heart to see her precious sister so happy and excited for her future. She just hoped that nobody would ruin it. The harsh gaze of Daenara had zeroed in on the woman who seemed to let her gaze linger for a little too long every time she passed Maeryn or held correspondence with her.

Over the years, Daenara had kept a close eye on their friendship, always prepared to issue a warning if one was warranted, but nothing ever seemed to happen. And now she was married. The wound on her hand was still fresh, but the pain seemed to have long since passed. The memory of her own ceremony was heavy in her heart as she looked at her left hand, the faded scar evident across her palm. She was younger than Maeryn when she was married to Cassian, but they made it work. A marriage of convenience, for political gain, but there was a sweetness and tenderness that neither would deny.

They had lived full lives, their youth filled with adventure and glory of battle, while the last few years of their marriage were settled and content. Their children were their pride and joy, something that not everyone was able to experience. Her breath caught in her chest for a moment and soon a warm hand gently laid over hers. Queen Aella looked at her oldest child with an understanding expression before returning to her conversation. Death could never be escaped, but she hoped that she would at least be spared from its clutches for some time.

Movement at the table caught her eye, causing her to escape the painful memories of her past. Hakim spoke to Maeryn before the girl eagerly got up, clearly prepared to dance and enjoy the celebration. Weddings within the royal family were always an exciting time for guests. Plenty of food and wine, entertainment, and a tournament, it was truly a thrilling time for anyone invited. “I will also be getting up, I believe my children may be causing some trouble.” A smile formed on the princess’s lips as she stood up from the table and gestured to her oldest son, Vaerys, to see if he wanted to go with her. The dark-haired boy awkwardly got out of his seat and clung to his mother’s hand as they began to walk to the rest of their family.

The music was wonderfully bright and cheerful, with plenty of smiling faces on the dance floor, especially as Maeryn and her husband joined them. Daenara and Vaerys stayed on the outskirts and approached Illysia, Maella, and Malyx, as they skipped in a circle, laughter tumbling from their lips. Vaerys seemed entertained, giggles escaping him as he let go of his mother’s hand in favor of clapping along. Daenara smiled brightly as she easily picked up Maella, a small shriek of excitement leaving her daughter’s lips. “Now, I do believe you have stayed awake for far too long. Did you even eat anything?”

A dramatic roll of her eyes (or rather her whole head), and Maella wrapped her arms around Daenara’s neck, quickly embracing her. “Oh Mother, it is such a bore!” A knowing look was all the response she needed, a sigh leaving her as she dramatically went limp in her mother’s arms. Shaking her head, the princess placed her daughter down and gently caressed Malyx’s face before she approached her sister-in-law.

“Thank you for watching them. I’m sure they were entertaining.” Extending her hand, she gently grasped Illysia’s, an action that had developed over the years of their friendship. They were family for a long time and that was not easily forgotten. “Have you been propositioned by any bachelors? I’ve heard they are trying their best to secure a marriage match before the night’s end.” A look of enjoyment showed on her face as she ushered her three children to their table and encouraged them to eat their dinner. Daenara crossed her arms and stood close to Illysia as she looked over at the crowd. “I am surprised nothing has happened yet. I half expected someone to break a nose or table by this point. That’s how it was at my wedding."

Tags: Illysia junegloom | Location: The Great Hall | Wearing: 01 02 03

coded by social

 

[reverice]

Aaleahya

mood.

mixed feelings.
needs a second glass
of wine immediately.

location.

Maeryn's Wedding
- The Great Hall

outfit.

Dress, jewelry 1,
hair, jewelry 2
(both hands),
jewelry 3, notable
item: bangles (right
now she’s only
wearing two, all
but the blue one)

interactions.

open!

tags.

-

A royal wedding. Such a grandeur event, worthy for Rhaeclya's own second-in-line, Maeryn. How lovely she was to witness it, how terrible a burden on her heart to imagine how her own would go. Her blood, crimson, dripping to the kingdom's sacred flame, its undying fire that has bore witness to countless wedding, soon her own's. Naive she no longer was, she all but know for sure that her parents have schemed behind her back, any day now they would give her the ultimatum and a man she's probably seen countless times yet not in that way would sweep her off the place she's called home for all two and twenty years to somewhere far and strange, her having no say in the matter. Though her heart was apparently stubborn enough to yet relent the hope that hers would be the exception to the rule, a match filled with love instead of polite diplomacy.

Alas it is time for merriments, so smile and laugh she will. It is her dear friend's big day—arguably the most important one of her life—after all. A day filled with song and dance and flowers blooming every inch and corner of the castle, basking its guests in their fragrant aroma and magnificent colors, willing all to rejoice in shared happiness. She glanced towards the front and center of the festivities held, the newlyweds. Still busy entertaining other congratulators, it seemed, so she'd wait for her turn. No rush, she was in no mood to interject much today anyway, especially after hers has been soured by her parents' not so subtle hints and wistful sighs along their way here. Nothing that a glass of wine or two can't fix, of course.

Light were her steps as they make their escape, away from Lord and Lady Valli, who were busy engaging in what surely is more mind numbing conversation with their coevals. Blending with the flock was the true miracle of the day, though perhaps only short of one, considering how she's adorned with plentiful gilded jewels and the color of her attire matching the blooming petals showering Rhaeclya today, one might just mistake her for a strangely frail pillar.

One shall take small winnings as they come, and Aaleahya surely did. Call her cowardly, for all she cares, but she's borne her fair share of their antics for the day, with still a pleasant smile on her face, unlike her brothers whose presence was yet to be seen. Ah, never mind them. Her freedom would not last long, and she shall savor it. Her graceful hand swept a glass served, not caring much be it wine or else, and took a few far too quick gulps, and now she has but a split of a second to choose to make a noticeable fuss by coughing as to not die right then and there, or go quietly. She could feel it already, burning in her chest, the usual slight dizziness now overwhelming, her consciousness escaping by her pores. At the very last moment, she let out a cough, trying her best to dampen the sound using the palm of her empty hand. Barely into her first glass and she'd caused a kerfuffle already. "I am fine," she assured those near her who were kind enough to spare her a glance, sparing a smile of her own, though her face must have been red as the wine, as some of them lingered still. "Truly."

A well-practiced smile plastered, for her presence was unnoticed no longer. So long, few seconds of bliss. Was it too late to become a pillar?

வள்ளி

♡coded by uxie♡