Anyways, working on a fantasy AU idea where it’s Bakugou and he’s the King of Dragons, etc, etc, but one of his dragon’s elemental gems is stolen, so he has to travel to get it back, and, well, plot elements aside, the MAIN thing about this AU is:

Bakugou is trapped in a harem anime where everyone around him is either a beautiful woman, or a creature that turns into a beautiful woman and this is PISSING him off (as he tries to complete a Very Serious mission). Some examples:

• He was so incredibly preoccupied by being pissed that it wasn’t until he’d laid her down on his bed— the first place he’d thought of that was both comfortable and isolated— that he noticed she was pretty. Very pretty. I guess it makes sense, she’s a beautiful dragon. Still. It was kind of odd seeing someone he was used to as a giant lizard lay in his bed as a… pretty woman. It’s not how hewould have thoughtshe’d look as a human, anyways. She wasn’t as scary as she was as a dragon, even with the darkness and the horns and the little scales.
• And then there was a hissing sound, crackling like that of a fire, and Kirishima— began to transform in a blazing pillar of smoke and flame. Katsuki had to take several steps back from the heat. By the time he could see again, he was faced with a woman at least five inches taller than him. She had bright red eyes, curling horns of deep red, a mane of hair that began as her scales like smoke and then faded into blazing red and orange. And she— she was— Katsuki grit his teeth. She’s completely naked. “What the fuck?” he demanded, not sure where to look, already taking off his cape. “What'dya mean?” She had a voice like Shinso’s, low and husky, but her’s rang foward with a confidence that Shinso’s, even if she were healthy, he was sure, did not. “I mean— fuck, Red, I knowyou can have clothes on, so why in the ever-living hell—” "I don’t like clothes. I haven’t been human more than like twice, and I neverwear clothes as a dragon! Seems to me like you’re the one being weird.” Despite that, she took his offered cloak and… draped it around her shoulders covering nothing. “KIRSHIMA COVER YOUR FUCKING TITS.”
• Lightning from a clear blue sky transformed his smallest dragon. At least shehad the common sense to be wearing a fucking outfit. But, for whatever reason, her eyes and hair an electric yellow and her horns towering over her head, she was also extremelycute.Why is this happening? What’s the point of… “Thank you for wearing something. Fuck. Why do you two idiots *look* like this? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.”
• “If you turn into. A hot woman. I’ll kill you.” Bakuguo growled. “I won’t!” the little bunny squeaked. “It’s not like that!” And then, in a puff of glittery (glittery, what in the hell) smoke, this absolutely fucking adorable woman was standing before him. She had these huge, cute eyes that sparkled; she had soft curly hair; her outfit had a boob window in the shape of a heart and it wasn’t like she had small boobs. Katsuki felt his eye twitch uncontrollably— above all. She still had. The bunny ears. And. The. Tail. “WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU!” he roared. To which, instead of flintching, she blushed and shifted demurely side to side, saying, “oh? You— you think I’m hot?”

✨ Prince Leonardo Snuggly Wuggly the Twenty-Fifth✨

Oh- you know I had to hand the spotlight over to the golden boy himself~ I absolutely LOVE Leo in this story. Lemme know if I should try my hand at the other two brothers as well!

Fantasy AU from @undercoverwizardfanfiction

✨The Twilight Thief✨

Just got caught up on Stories of the Hidden City by @undercoverwizardfanfiction and WOW! I haven’t been so invested in a fantasy AU in for ever! I definitely recommend a read if you’re in the mood for a gritty, heart felt adventure story with the boys in another life!

Aizawa on a horse with a huge nose. Why are horses so hard? I need more practice

Izuku stifled a gasp as he was led through ornate double doors into the grand ballroom of the royal palace. Even if this was a masquerade, if his ruse was ever going to work, he couldn’t be gaping at everything he saw like the poor village boy he still was at heart. He needed to blend in, to act like he belonged here among these richly dressed people, like the opulence and elegance and grandeur on display before him was his normal.

“Careful,” Tenya, a royal knight and one of Izuku’s friends from his many adventures as well as his escort that evening, warned in a low voice, speaking out of the side of his mouth so as to disguise the fact that he was speaking at all. “Don’t let anything give away the fact that you’re not one of these people. I don’t need to remind you of how dire the consequences will be if you’re caught.” 

“You don’t,” Izuku replied. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Tenya warned, and moved off to attend to his own matters, leaving Izuku to himself to enjoy the party.

And what a party it was. This cold midwinter day marked the birth of King Enji of Endeavor’s youngest son, Shoto, sixteen years prior. The king had spared no expense for this masquerade, intending to celebrate this momentous occasion in a manner befitting the boy he called “his greatest masterpiece”, as well as present a reminder of the wealth and power of both himself and his kingdom to any foreign dignitaries who may have been attending the event in the hopes of securing a marriage alliance with Endeavor now that Shoto, the king’s heir, was of age. 

Izuku had simpler, much less political reasons for wanting to sneak into this party. He wanted simply to see the prince, just once. A lowly commoner such as himself was not even considered worthy to breathe the same air as the heir to Endeavor’s throne, whatever fame and glory he might have won himself in his adventures, and this might be the only chance he’d ever get to see for himself if the rumors he’d heard were true. He’d heard that the prince had one eye the color of the sea and one the color of a stormy sky, that half of his hair was as red as flame and the other half white as snow, that he was a powerful magic user like his mother and father, that he was tall and striking and his gaze as sharp and piercing as an arrowhead. Most of all, he’d heard that the prince was beautiful, but cold and distant, like a sculpture of ice, or perhaps the moon.

Izuku knew he was risking a lot coming here, but his curiosity was insatiable and impossible to ignore. Rumors weren’t enough for him. He needed to see. He needed to know.

As the night wore on, Izuku gorged himself on rich food and engaged in idle chatter while keeping mostly to the edges of the crowd, where he was much less likely to be spotted and immediately outed as someone who did not belong. Every few moments he would pause and scan the faces around him, desperate for even one tiny glimpse of Prince Shoto. But apparently he was so much of a recluse to not even attend his own birthday party, as there was no sign of him. Izuku tried not to let himself feel toodisappointed, and he threw himself wholeheartedly into the dancing once it began in earnest. Catching sight of the prince had been a long shot anyway, and he was determined to have fun despite things not going to plan.

“May I have this next dance?” a soft, cold voice asked some uncounted moments later. It had come from behind him, and Izuku whirled around, startled.

“My apologies,” Prince Shoto said smoothly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Izuku felt his mouth go dry, and all he could do was stare. Prince Shoto was just as beautiful as the rumors said, one half of his hair fire red and the other half snow white, one eye brilliant blue and the other stormy grey, an aura of power coming off of him in waves. The only thing that might have ruined the image was the scar around his left eye, partially hidden by his hair, but as far as Izuku was concerned it didn’t mar his beauty at all, only enhanced it.

Prince Shoto raised his eyebrows- one red and one white, like his hair- questioningly, and only then did Izuku realize that he hadn’t yet answered his request. Yet when he tried to speak, he found that his voice had suddenly failed him, and so he could only nod and allow the prince to lead him to a spot in the center of the crowd of other couples waltzing.

“Might I have your name?” Prince Shoto asked after a while.

“Ah, that’s a secret,” Izuku replied teasingly. In the back of his mind, he was astonished at himself. He couldn’t believe he was bantering with the prince, of all people. 

“I’d like to know the name of the person who I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of for the entirity of this party,” Prince Shoto insisted. “For all that you try to pretend otherwise, I can tell that you don’t belong here, and that intrigues me. I’ve been trying to get you alone all night.”

“Very well,” Izuku replied, stunned by the prince’s earnestness. “You may call me Deku.”

“I can’t imagine a person wanting to be called by a name that means ‘worthless’,” Prince Shoto remarked, effortlessly twirling Izuku when the moment came in the dance.

“Deku is the name of a hero,” Izuku insisted when he was reeled back into the prince’s side. This was the truth, as he had fought hard to make it so.

“My apologies,” Prince Shoto said, inclining his head. “I’ve heard tell of the great hero Deku. I didn’t realize I was in such illustrious company.” Izuku didn’t know how, but he could detect a trace of amusement coloring the prince’s voice.

“Not nearly so illustrious as yours, Your Highness,” he said.

“Shoto,” Prince Shoto replied. “Call me Shoto.” 

“Shoto,” Izuku echoed, breathless. Shoto pulled him close, and suddenly they were nearly nose to nose, breath fanning across each other’s faces on each exhale. Izuku longed to close the gap, however scandalous and improper it might have been, but before he could the orchestra ceased playing, signaling the end of the dance. Izuku felt his heart sink as Shoto pulled back, hand still clasped in his. 

“Until next time, Deku,” he murmured, lifting Izuku’s hand to his lips and brushing a kiss across his knuckles that he swore he could feel through his glove. Then he dropped Izuku’s hand and disappeared into the crowd. And if he and Izuku spent the rest of the party in the palace gardens, locked in a passionate embrace, well, that was no one’s business but their own.

greenkatie:

I really love Disney princesses, and a few days ago i found plance au based on beauty and the beast and i really like it i need to find more plance au based on disney like that but i don’t know where to find it :’)

I’m assuming you’re talking about Where Sapphire Roses Grow, since I mainly wrote it because I wanted to read a BatB Plance AU, figuring there would be a dozen versions already, only to find there were none so I had to go and write one myself XD I’m so glad you’re enjoying it!

As for Plance Disney AUs, sadly I don’t think there are any beyond short drabbles or one-shots. Plance fandom seems to prefer canon-based content over AUs, and even less so for fantasy AUs. But here’s a few suggestions if you’re wanting more princess/magic/fantasy based stories:

@vivalachocolate has a lovely Stardust AU, Do the Stars Gaze Back? and it is both lengthy and completed! Pidge plays the role of Tristan while Lance is the Star and it is such a delight. She weaves in some new twists to the story that better fit the VLD characters and gives some lovely nods to canon.

@rueitae has a witch/familiar AU named Seasons of Magic and it is so adorable that it feels like something straight out of Disney. Pidge is a mage and Lance is a dragon who is bonded as her familiar. Definitely one of my favorites, the interactions between Lance and Pidge are phenomenal. 

Rue additionally has a Castle of Cagliostro AU, Wolf In Thieves’ Clothing, where Pidge is a princess and Lance is a gentleman thief. This one is still in my to-read list but I’ve heard very good things about it!

@rosieclark has a short little Tangled AU piece, You Were My New Dream. She says she’s taking requests on certain scenes, so you might be able to request one from her! 

Rosie also has one of my all time favorite fantasy AUs, No Crown No Sword, which is so deliciously crafted with newly made King Lance and bodyguard Pidge.

@chibi-pix has a fun fantasy AU, Wild Magic, where Pidge is a lost princess as well as a mage, and there’s some side Plance with adorable pining on both ends.

@ashkazora​ and Rosie have collabed on a Dragon Prince AU, To the Stars and Back, which explores Lance as Prince Callum and Pidge as moonshadow elf Rayla. This one also does a fantastic job of bending the AU a bit to better fit some canon elements and keep it a bit different from TDP! 

I do have another Disney based AU, this time based on Alice in Wonderland, called Six Impossible Things. It features Pidge as Alice and Lance as the Cheshire cat. 

My Pikelavar fic Defenders of Aurita also has a lot of themes based on Anastasia, mainly with Meklavar being a lost princess with amnesia and Pike having been a kitchen boy who helped save her when they were kids. I also have a Shrek based AU, An Unorthodox Approach, which has princess Pidge and cat shifter Lance. Not exactly Disney, but both have princess Pidge! 

I absolutely love fantasy AUs for Plance! The garden can always use some more, so if anyone has been thinking about doing a Disney based AU, please write one! There are lots of us that would enjoy it! 

mustardmouse:

An idea @iputthepaininpainting shared on twitter a few days ago and I just REALLY wanted it drawn somehow because I love it

GONNA HAVE A QUICK CRY AGAIN BRB

The Tea House is the only clean place in all of the three outlying territories; the capital and castle are overflowing with gold. There’s boredom in both places and freedom in neither. Dazai finds the only way to amuse himself and you’re just curious enough to agree. {fic under the cut}

[ao3 link] x [patreon]

The long reign of the king ended unexpectedly. Within the first few months of the king’s death, the prodigal heir to the throne was crowned the one-hundred-and-fifteen King of Tartalya. Despite what the royal family toted to the public the new king only resembled his father in strategical demeanor. The prince’s (now king) features were prominent and sharp whereas the previous king had cheeks still plump with baby fat and a wide smile. Prince Osamu never smiled; that was the rumor anyway.

Per Tartalya tradition the new king was married within the first month of his new position. His wife, the dutchess of a rich port territory, fawned over him endlessly. A polished depiction of what Tartalya’s queen should be. Sweet, humble, and above all else, proper. Tartalya’s prior king required indisputable perfection within his court and their partners. Any imperfections were snuffed out quicker than a strong wind extinguishes a candle. The ruthless king’s only heir was no exception to these strict expectations; a rumor from the high court states the prince’s wife was picked when they were both ten years old due to her bloodline, manners, and demeanor.

Rumors from the high courts were often stretched and dissected until they resembled fables, but there was truth to some extent. That is what you were taught to believe anyway. Take the words of a man with as you would an ill-cooked gift; chew with conviction then spit it out when their back is turned. You were taught this of all rumors and of all men.

Of the region claimed by Tarayla’s century-old monarch, only three territories have been allowed to rule without direct sanctions from the high court or prince. They are considered the dark outliers in both qualities of life and the quality of inhabitants. These three territories provide shelter for merchants coming to port looking to gamble and drink, criminals from other territories seeking asylum, and those who are not able to afford a single room within the cheapest region of Tartayla’s kingdom.

Like many of the other inhabitants born in Valnnin, your mother chose to leave you at the Tea House under the care of the Ozaki clan the day after you’d turned five. She was paid a handsome fee and signed a contract never to return to the Tea House. Supposedly, many women bear children simply to drop them at the Tea House for the reward. That rumor was not hard to believe given the state of Valnnin. Decent money offered the means to escape Valnnin to the closest region in Tartayla, Soinet, where large farms sit on rolling green hills lush with purple fruit that grows plentiful on tall trees. Anyone who made it out of Valnnin stayed out; by starvation or success.

A part of you hoped your mother starved.

There are worse fates in Valnnin than the Ozaki’s Tea House, though. Bred with a sharp wit and long cherry-red hair the Ozaki clan were well known all over Tartayla for their refined charisma and elegant beauty. Some of these traits were able to be passed on to the right young men and women making the courtesans of the Tea House the highest priced commodity in all of the three territories. Top earners are allowed to live in the lavish rooms on the top floor of the Tea House.  The Ozaki house, a four-tier traditional home lit with gold paper lanterns and endless vines wrapped over a cobblestone bridge, sits across the Tea House. The watchful guardian for the inhabitants of the Tea House. Other than becoming part of a legacy family in Valnnin, like the Ozaki, the best living was at the top of the Tea House.

Residing in the middle, for now, was comfortable enough.

“___, dear you’re staring.’ Kouyou tuts, whacking your knee with her lace fan. When her fan is fully spread the gold filigree becomes a long winding dragon sifting through the clouds. A well-known symbol of the Ozaki clan. The dragon is imprinted throughout the Tea House and stamped on the inside of each girl’s wrist in gold ink. Ownership and protection, that is what they preached while poking your skin with a hot needle. “Is that potted ivy really that intriguing? It must be with how rude you’re being during our conversation.” Her long manicured nail brushes over your nose to draw your attention. Her touch instantaneously forces your shoulders to go rigid as your eyes drop to your lap. Kouyou’s sharp nails bite at your jawline. “Don’t be rude to our company tonight. Understood?”

You nod, wincing a bit at her grip. Kouyou-san only showed this type of intensity with newer girls in order to hammer in the traditions of the Tea House. You, however, had been here for fifteen long years and knew every twist and turn. Your familiarity had risen to the point that you and the other girls made wages on some of the staff’s mood based on an eyebrow quirk or tense knuckle. For the most part, you won each round. Kouyou-san did insist your looks and keen eye made for a high commodity, however, the blessings around your features were not as god-like as some of the girls. You were sure they came from a line of Queens and Goddesses long before humanity stomped over the grasslands.

“Kouyou-san, I don’t understand why you won’t inform me who I am waiting for.” You shift uncomfortably in your silk robe. The pillow beneath your knees had become a hardened lump of clay that was sure to leave bruises. “Using the gold room is above my station.”

“It is.” Kouyou agrees without an ounce of hesitation. If you were allowed to show your true emotions a dark frown laden with knitted brows would be reflecting back at Kouyou. Tea house manners forbade any type of backtalk, verbal or otherwise, toward the ladies of the house. It had been a long time since your feet had been whipped into a bloody mess due to your expressions. “You should be thankful a man of high caliber is interested in your company.”

You exhale through your nose and adjust the pillow subtly just for something to grab and ease the tension rising up your spine. The golden room was incredibly expensive and reserved for foreign clientele or a man rich enough to buy the country twice over. What you could gather from the maids who set the room was scarcely what you could consider good information but their gossiping mouths let out that the changes were due to the man’s incredibly specific taste.

Instead of immaculate gaudy golden candles, simple paper lanterns were hung in shades of red that bounced off the polished wood walls. The marble table had been replaced with a smaller traditional one stacked high with poker chips and two crystal glasses. A bottle of imported whisky more expensive than the entirety of Valnnin had been staring back at you for the better part of an hour. Jewels from all over the country were heaped into woven baskets spilling out their glittering gemstones of blues, pinks, reds, and purples. One stone looked as big as your palm. Within the baskets, bracelets, and necklaces sparkle and hang over the rim like a used handkerchief tossed in the garbage.

Money can’t buy taste, you think to yourself, though you wouldn’t mind pocketing some of those jewels to sell later. Abruptly the double doors open and the lanterns are snuffed out. Above your head dangles an imported odd-shaped light with arms extending outwards holding each white candle as if it were trying to scorch the walls.  Kouyou stands to greet the unknown guest. Gliding across the wooden floor as a swan crosses a lake.

You remain perfectly poised. Long red dress stretching out your arms to pool against your thighs. The Tea House provided silk garments for expensive clients that showed skin without being over-zealous. A strong dip in the back revealing your spine for wandering fingers. Bare shoulders for teeth to graze and tease. Your lips had been painted deep red to accentuate a pout worthy of a diamond necklace. Beyond Kouyou’s tall stance you barely make out the rough edges of a man much taller than Kouyou.

“Enjoy your time, sir. Please, let me know if I can do anything to be more accommodating.” Kouyou’s bow is deep and longer than usual. The man doesn’t bow back. 

The guards that had accompanied him to the golden room remain on the other side of the screen door once it’s closed, another uncommon occurrence. You get to your feet and walk towards the man in the same manner Kouyou did. You’d done this a hundred times. A thousand. Something high up, but there was an odd sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. Circling the pit of your belly like a serpent through the grass. “Good evening. Who do I have the pleasure of spending time with? I’m afraid my tongue has gone numb in excitement.”

The man chuckles and takes a step forward; you take in his form with a simple blink. His hair is an unruly slue of dark browns overlapping each other held back by a deep ruby pin, an odd style but the capital tended to couple foreign fashion with traditional garments. The stranger is incredibly tall, thin, wearing traditional Tartayla clothing though the crest on his lapel doesn’t ring a bell. It did not mirror the crests members of the court wore nor the men stationed beneath them. Scribes, military, footmen, all members of the palace wore crests revealing their status to the world. A palace aid, even, would be able to afford the golden room for a night.

“That’s a lie.” He takes another few steps towards you. Swift. His long legs easily bring him close enough for you to smell his cologne. Expensive and foreign. “I specifically told Ozaki not to speak my name. A clever way to ask without asking.” You blink rapidly but hold your ground, folding your hands politely in front of your thighs. His stare is honey lined with liquid gold. “As expected of a woman raised in the Tea House.”

“I did not want to seem ill-prepared.” You finally answer, “It is uncommon to not know the name of my companion prior to meeting.” Nicknames–you roll through the most requested, but none of them fit. He bends a bit, you expect a hand on your cheek or your chin; he grips your throat. Contracting your airways with an eerily gentle touch.

“You can address me as Dazai, nothing else.” His gaze remains ice cold. Something about the name bubbles up and up until your mouth unintentionally drops open just enough to let out a silent gasp. Prince Dazai. If he would let go of your chin you could bow to him but he anchors himself to the ground. “Ah, there it is. I can let go that you did not recognize me considering we let the territories exist as an extension. Not much royalty passing through here? What a scandal~”.

He releases your jaw and walks over to the table in the center of the room. Out of instinct, you follow behind with your head bowed just slightly. What would the prince be doing here? You presumed when royal blood desired the flesh of someone else other than their betrothed they found it easily among the many women of the court. “Dazai, what is it you desire tonight?” Common phrases of your trade finally return once your tongue has melted off the shock.

“Business.” He states, taking a seat on the plush pillows. “Come, and don’t speak unless I ask you a question.” Dazai pats his hand on his lap as he speaks. You follow his command and walk yourself to his lap. The scent of him is overwhelmingly pleasing in comparison to the other men that have requested this position. With your back against his chest, you can feel the ruffle of fabric on your bare skin from his vest, it’s an interesting sensation. You’d never felt this type of material before.

“Now,” Dazai starts voice a rich smoky tenor, “you will come with me to the capital and sit just like this. You won’t speak, you won’t move, you won’t do a thing except look as you do now.” He drags his knuckles down your spine. “All you need to know is that. What lies in this room,” he lazily gestures to the jewels in the collapsing baskets, “will be your payment.”

All you can do is nod dumbly. What the hell did he want you at the capital for? To be a lap ornament? What a strange request. You want to say no, to tell him you’re much more than a porcelain doll to play with. Your wit and charm has made you the favorite of so many men of his own court. Dazai presses his nose to the curve between your throat and shoulder. “You may ask one question but make it quick, I dislike having to ride home during the day.”

Dazai gave you information without giving you detail. The bare-bones without an explanation or purpose, but he was the prince. You couldn’t pester him for more like your regulars who gave vague requests–of which you denied regardless of what it was. Taking a courtesan out of the Tea House was strictly forbidden. There was no amount that would interest the Ozaki women to allow their charges to leave the premises with a client. Every person had their price, though, it should have been obvious considering your line of work.

“Am I to be a lap ornament for your entertainment or to prove a point to another person?” Dazai pauses his hand on your spine. For a moment your heart freezes–until he begins to laugh. Harmonious and cheerful, it almost sounds sweet but the tingle in your spine tells you otherwise.

“Both,” Dazai places his hand on your thigh giving the soft flesh a tight squeeze, “but the latter. I don’t find very much of this world entertaining in the slightest.” Abruptly his teeth graze the shell of your ear as his hand wanders beneath your silk dress finding the edge of your hipbone. “This is just to waste time.”

                                  __________________________


Jealousy was not something prince Dazai experienced. However, the man across from you seemed to be dripping green with it. You vaguely recognized him, a court-appointed general from the land across the sea. The name escaped you, anytime he appeared at the Tea House for your attention his words sank to the bottom of your consciousness. His conversation was as dull and his hands were fat with sausage-like fingers that didn’t know how to properly undo the knots that held your dress together at the side. He never had enough money other than to converse for twenty minutes and stare at your nude body.

Prior to the meeting, Dazai had walked you through the main courtyard filled lined with enormous evergreen trees and rose bushes taller than your shoulders. Members of the royal court bowed and held their tongues as you passed. Your clothing served as a clear indicator of your position in the Tea House. Dazai had made it a point to dress you in the most elegant outfit the Tea House allowed. Draped in gold and black with hints of deep scarlet beneath the split up your thigh.

The palace was, unsurprisingly,  massive in size and stature. Getting lost for hours within its corridors and monumental rooms seemed inevitable. Had Dazai let you wander from his side. “Do not speak or move without my permission.” His only warning punctuated with a sharp slap to your ass.

While the meeting went on Dazai’s hands grew increasingly curious in tandem with his ever-rising boredom. Beneath the table, his fingers roamed between your legs never touching where you wanted. They drew teasing circles just outside your lower lips. Dug crescents into the meat of your inner thighs. The longer the meeting went on the higher his hands reached. Inside the deep cut of your dress to squeeze your breast while he spoke about the outcome of a fictional war the general had threatened, apparently. Something about trade prices rising.

Anything happening beyond Dazai’s grip wasn’t sticking to your psyche.

By the time the meeting was finished sweat was beading down the back of your neck. Your cheeks had grown hot to the touch and your clit was aching for touch. Dazai simply stood expecting you to catch yourself. “You will not be returning to the Tea House.” It was all he said before two guards escorted you down a long corridor lined with paintings of the royal bloodline.

                      ___________________________________

The first time he fucked you the moon had appeared in splendor. Bright and bold against dark skies empty of stares and clouds. His wife had requested him to come to bed early. Her long dark hair falling in gentle curls illuminated by the candelabra she held in her fist. You watched from the corner of his study as Dazai used that talented tongue of his to herd her back to bed. Once the door was shut and locked with a metal key Dazai bent you over his desk and fucked you deep and slow.

He left bite marks on your neck and laughed when you begged so pathetically to cum around his cock. At first, there was nothing inside him. No emotion to his touch and no passion beyond the carnal desire to fuck you when he needed release. His wife would often stare at you when you passed in the corridors trying to find some sort of entertainment.

You had heard nothing of your position at the palace nor had anyone questioned your existence there. Dazai demanded you stay within his sights at all times and would punish you with hard slaps to your bare ass when you wandered too far. He was the softest after he left a red handprint on your behind. He’d cradle you in his arms and call you pretty things like a lover would. It only served to deepen your confusion in both your own feelings for him and what he wanted out of your existence in his life.

                    _______________________________________

The queen’s illness came on rapidly and without a cause. She was pale with a fever and sickly looking. Her skin stretched over the bones of her face and her eyes looked glass. Nothing the doctors were doing had made a difference. She existed on her large bed surrounded by basins of water and broth, her ladies in waiting rotated washing her and feeding her the best they could. She couldn’t move on her own accord except to speak in a low muddled voice.

Dazai did not visit her often. After a week she had been moved to her own room down two corridors and across from the King’s quarters. The bed was burned and the room scrubbed clean until it glistened. Dazai didn’t ask, he never did. When your room turned up empty you knew to find him in his quarters. His long legs propped up on the ottoman beside the window, fingers over his favorite book gifted by a friend long gone from this world.

His touch had become gentle in the past few weeks. You presumed, at first, it was due to his grieving and perhaps guilt for the affair. Yet he did not change the frequency in which he kissed you, fucked you, held you against his chest for a few minutes before he eventually left the bed to finish whatever work he’d thrown across the floor when he grew too aggravated or bored.

Nights he wanted to fall off the edge of the world he tied your hands to the bed and played with your body until sunrise. Dazai left his mark where he pleased. Nothing felt as good as his hands, his attention, his tongue. Rarely did he ever keep himself on top. No, he expected you to ride him. Make him cum while he watched you grow addicted to the feeling of his cock inside of you.

                                 ______________________

Dazai had to produce an heir, he said, one morning while you’d been eating breakfast at his side. His wife could not fulfill that duty while sick. You pause for a moment and set your glass down. Looking at him as the sun rises behind his head.

“You know I can’t have children.” Part of the process of becoming part of the Tea House; everyone went through the procedure. “What do you plan to do?”

Dazai wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do?” He places his elbows on the table and folds his fingers beneath his chin. That same gaze from the day you met him in the golden room returning to douse you in something unsettling. You blink at him and lean back in your chair. “As long as the queen remains alive you are not able to marry another. You will be expected to wait to have a child with your wife when she is well again.”

Dazai tilts his head. “I don’t want children.” He says nonchalantly.

“Dazai..” What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do? “Dazai.”

His grin spreads wide, eyes darkening despite the light from the windows splashing halycon all over the room. “Eat up, _____. I’m growing bored.”

The Skies of Noir

As time passes, as it always did, the darkness grew greater in the land. Dangers to the heart lurk ever nearer as the days grew short. As the chasers and gatherers fly off into the sky, the light bearers guide the lost, and the lamp keepers tend to what’s left. The witches, upon finding bright gods, ask them to share their light–a mercy upon them if they are willing. They must make haste, gather every speck and take the precious gift back home where the alchemists smelt them into life giving crystals. A relieved sigh comes from every breath as the roads are lit yet again. A new chime and a new song for a season renewed from its ashes.

Gonna be just sketches coz I’m not sure I can commit.

My piece for the Midnight_KLzine♥
This was a collab with the amazing @/winternbrunett5 on twitter

READ ON AO3

Pairing: Keith/Lance, Minor Adam/Shiro
Words:7.8k
Rating:T+
Warnings:none
Tags: prince lance, cursed keith, fairytale au, gargoyle au, slow burn, light angst, angst and fluff, magic, curses, pining, mutual support, fantasy
Chapter:¾

Fic Summary:

In the land of Arus, the youngest Nalquodian prince—Prince Leandro—is hidden away in a little castle that overlooks the kingdom; a countermeasure to protect him from the Galran assassins that have sworn to take his life.

And in the tallest tower of the castle, behind a grimy rose window and under a dusty sheet, is an enchanting gargoyle that the prince finds himself compelled to visit every day.

Almost as if by a spell…

Chapter Summary:

Lance continues to investigate how to break the curse and his feelings.

[Inspired@214b  ‘s art here]

read from the beginning|| my other klance fics||ko-fi||patreon

Playlists - Aesthetics/Vibes

Hi!

So I don’t only make playlists based on fandoms or characters I also enjoy making playlists for the little worlds and daydreams in my head or any writing that I happen to do or even just for a specific vibe.

So thought I would share some of the playlists I use regularly just in case anyone enjoys them

Click the names for links :)

Fantasy Daydreaming - A playlist made for the little fantasy worlds or WIPs

Villains - a playlist based around my favourite villain characters

Sad Bitch hours - just some songs to be in your feels to

Serotonin Generator - Some happy vibe songs to help get you in a good mood :)

When King Anthony died in battle defending the kingdom it broke something in his consort. Without his sovereign and husband by his side the world seemed dull and empty to the young widower. That was until less than a week since his loves death he found a book forgotten within the castle library that gave him hope to be reunited with his king.

And so the widowed consort of the king soon found himself breaking in to his husband’s crypt to steal away his body to their chambers before delving into dark and forbidden magics to try and return his love to life.

Although the young man knew that should the spell fail or succeed he would be with his husband regardless. Either through bringing him back to life or by admitting to the guards his crime of practicing, although unsuccessfully, necromancy. And thus reunite with Anthony once the sentence for such an act had been carried out

@starker-bingo fill: N3 - free space

card below

fantasy bkg

also a lil preview for some of my other patreon stuff

some more stuff for the reverse fantasy au so adventurer kinda bakugou

for that reverse fantasy au. the anatomy is pretty wonky but this was just me figuring out his outfit sooo

reverse fantasy au with deku and his dragons eri and kota

fantasy au mina

AO3

…

Patton was lost. He was lost, and scared, and alone, and cold. It was snowing, out, and he didn’t have his coat, his gloves, his hat. He was lost alone in the woods.

He shivered harder, at that thought, tears slipping down his face as he stumbled over a tree root, too slow to catch himself, as he fell over into the snow. It quickly soaked through his shirt, his pants. He realized he didn’t have his shoes on at all, which might explain why he was finding it so hard to move, to keep moving.

He didn’t know why, he needed to keep moving, he just knew that he had to. That’s what mama had said. She’d told him to run, to keep moving, to get as far away as he could, and to not look back, no matter what.

He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew it was bad. Mama had rushed him out the door, she’d been crying, she’d hugged him and told him she loved him. He’d heard shouting, heard screaming, smelled smoke, but his mom hadn’t let him see, ushering him into the woods outside the back door with the instructions to flee.

And now he was lost, alone, scared, fallen in the snow, in the woods, all alone, with no idea of how to get home, with the sinking feeling that home wouldn’t be there, even if he somehow managed to find his way back.

He started sobbing. He couldn’t help it. He wanted his mother, he wanted his father, he wanted to be home, sitting in front of the fire, mama humming a soft song to lull him to sleep as she knitted, papa coming in from chopping wood, scooping him up and spinning around until he was dizzy and giggling, he wanted to be back in their cozy little house on the edge of the village, on the edge of the woods, curled up and warm and happy.

But mama had told him to keep moving, keep going, so he forced himself back to his feet, though they were numb, and his legs were hard to move, and his breath was cold, his chest tight, but he forced it all to work, somehow, and he kept trudging forwards.  

…

He finally fell, shaking and shivering, so cold he couldn’t even feel it anymore, against the base of a huge tree, if he were more aware, he’d marvel at the size, but his head felt weird and fuzzy, and the world felt distant and he felt so, so small.

He curled tight, not caring about the snow seeping through his clothing, the ice crystals forming against his skin, the snow already starting to pile atop him as it fell. He could feel his tears freezing against his face, could feel the numbness creeping through him, knew that was bad, that he shouldn’t stop moving, but he didn’t care. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. How bad could that be? Mama always tucked him in for naps, when he was sleepy at home. Maybe if he just thought of the snow as a blanket, he could sleep for a little bit, and keep walking later. That sounded nice.

The cold wasn’t feeling so cold anymore, either. He was starting to feel almost cozily warm, almost like he was curled back up at the fireplace. Almost like he was snuggled against mama, under his favorite blanket, listening to her stories. That was nice. He missed her.

“mama…” He whimpered softly, curling tighter against the sobs wracking his small frame.

“what in the name of gaia…” He hadn’t noticed the person approaching. Hadn’t heard the footsteps, but at the voice, he managed to blearily open his eyes, though his vision was blurry and clouded, specks of ice sticking to his lashes, coating his lids. He gasped and drew back, bumping against the bark of the tree, in the face of the being before him.

They looked like a large owl. They had the scaly legs and talons of a raptor, but a human torso and face, though instead of hair, he had dark, tawny feathers, small white ones outlining his widow’s peak and tracing his hairline. And instead of a mouth and nose, he had a dark black beak. He could see tawny wings stretching out behind the being, speckled lightly with black, though the being had human arms as well. A spirit, of some kind, a spirit of the forest. A spirit of death, according to the legends.

“P-please… please d-don’t h-urt me….” He stuttered out, breath heaving and shaking, the cold scorching his lungs, fear making his heart hammer in his chest, his tongue feel like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. The being crouched before him, and he shook, closing his eyes. He heard the figure make a soft cooing noise, and held his breath.

“It’s alright, nestling. I do not mean to cause you any harm. You must have traveled a long time, to get this far and deep into the forest.” The spirit’s voice was low and soft, steady and sure, and he found himself nodding.

“y-yeah. Mama s-said… mama said to r-run. T-to k-keep running. S-so I d-did. But I don’t know my way b-back and… and I think something bad happened. S-something really, really bad. And I’m scared-“ He broke off, voice wavering as it fell into a sob that tore at his throat, and he heard the spirit make another sound, this one sounding like a soft clack from his beak, as if unsure what to do. “I’m scared that something really, really bad h-happened to h-home.” He finished, swiping at his eyes, though his hands were clumsy and stiff.

“You did a good job, listening to her. It sounds like she is very brave, and very smart, and so are you, to have kept going this long.” The spirit hesitated again, before he heard him shifting, settling down onto the forest floor, peeking his eyes open, he saw him a good foot or so away, dark eyes speckled with gold and silver looking at him carefully. “My name is Logan. May I ask what yours is, little one?”

“P-patton. I’m s-seven.” He answered, shivering once more, feeling his eyes slip closed despite himself.

“Patton. You’ve been out here a long time, without any proper protection from the cold. I would like to take you back to my nest, to get you warmed up and safe. After that we can try and find your home. Is that alright?” His mind played over the thousand stories his mother had told him, of spirits whisking away children, never to be seen again, of fae swapping them out for changelings in the middle of the night, of will-o-the-wisps leading travelers astray, only to get them so turned around and lost they died in the woods.

But… but Logan seemed nice. And he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Y-you pr-omise?” He asked, head drooping, unable to keep it upright as he felt himself losing hold of awareness, that warm tingling back in his limbs.

“I promise.” He felt arms scoop him up, and he gasped, because they were so hot! So very, very hot, after so long in the snow and the wet and the ice, and he nearly cried, at how nice it felt, curling tight against Logan, feeling soft downy feathers through the thin flowing fabric that covered his torso, nuzzling against them with a happy little sigh.

“I’m going to fly now, all right? It might feel a little strange, but I promise you’re perfectly safe. I’ve got you.” Patton didn’t respond, and Logan panicked, looking down at the now unconscious child in his arms. “Patton. Patton, can you hear me?” A small stirring of his limbs, but not enough, no awareness, and the poor thing’s lips were blue, his face so pale, his breath so slow and laboured. Hypothermia, obviously.

The best thing he could do was get back to the roost as quickly as possible, and start slowly warming him up. He just had to hold on long enough to make it back, and the wind of the flight would not help in preserving the little warmth Patton had left.

He quickly stripped off his shirt, wrapping the billowy fabric softly but firmly around Patton, holding the boy close to his chest, shielding him as much as he could with his arms, hoping the soft, fluffy downy feathers that lightly covered his chest would be enough to insulate him until they got home.

“It’s all right, Patton. I’ve got you.” One last adjustment, and he leapt off the ground, his powerful wings flapping hard to gain near vertical altitude, the climb much easier once he cleared the treetops and could spiral upwards, soaring high above the woods, towards home.

…

He alit on the edge of the cliff, glancing down at the child in his arms. His heat beat was slow and weak, his breath sporadic and shallow, and he cursed, passing through the illusory wall that led into his aerie.  

It was a large cavern, but it never got cold, thanks to his influence. The ceiling sparkled with shining moonstones, and a large fireplace was carved into one wall of the space. He had a perch in one corner, along with a soft pile of furs, a desk against the wall. The real treasure was the books, the shelves lined and lined with books. He scoured the world for them, collecting them, fascinated by these testaments to human creativity and ingenuity, though a fair share of them were his own journals and scientific notations.

“Logan! Took you long enough, I’ve been waiting for ages!” He jumped at the voice, before ruffling his feathers, annoyance coursing through him as he glanced at the fire spirit, who currently had taken the form of a shimmering, scarlet dragon. Then he realized his luck, that Roman was here, a being with the power of fire, of warmth.

“Here. You need to warm him up, slowly. His core temperature is far too low, and a sudden change could do more harm than good. Make sure to rub his fingers and toes, to get circulation back into them, those are the areas that are most likely to succumb to hypothermia.” He explained quickly, Roman instantly shifting into a more human form as Logan placed the bundle in his arms, before hopping off across the space, to his herb storage.

It took Roman a moment, to realize what exactly he was holding. The little thing was bundled up tight in Logan’s shirt, but when he pulled it down his heart nearly stopped.

“Body heat is the best! You should take that off of him, it’s only hindering progress at this point!” Logan called, rummaging through his cupboards. Still in shock, Roman did as he was told, inhaling sharply.

A child. A human child.

“What… how… Logan!” He screeched, stilling as the child shifted slightly in his arms, curling closer to him, his thumb slipping into his mouth. Oh Gaia, the little guy was adorable, and he made sure his heat was softly surrounding him, slowly warming him up as he absently rubbed at his hands. “What are you doing with a human child!?” He hissed, Logan coming back with bandages and a soothing cream, that he started gently rubbing into the boy’s skin, instructing Roman to sit down with him, as he started rubbing his arms and legs, to get circulation going once more.

“I felt a call in my territory and found him all alone and more than half frozen. His village was attacked and ransacked, his mother managed to sneak him into the woods before the raiders reached their home and told him to run. I couldn’t just leave him there, Roman.” Roman sighed, brushing back the kid’s curly chestnut hair, noting some color was starting to come back to his face.

“No. no, I suppose you couldn’t. Is there any chance…” He trailed off at the shake of Logan’s head, dark eyes a bit clouded, as he glanced up at Roman.

“They’re gone. No survivors, except him, I suppose. I… I don’t know, how I’m going to be able to tell him.” Logan hissed as he got to Patton’s feet, wincing at the state of them.

The bottoms were completely torn and bloodied, the toes themselves turned a dark, angry purple, and he took a deep breath, knowing those would be terribly bruised and incredibly painful, if they came back from their exposure. He started slowly massaging warmth back into them, looking up at a soft cry from Patton, who’s eyes were fluttering uneasily, holding his breath as they opened.

“Patton. It is all right. Do you remember me?” He asked softly, those light blues locking onto him immediately.

“Lo-logan.” He whispered, and Logan nodded, smiling.

“Yes. Very good, Patton. We’re at my home, right now. We’re getting you warmed up, all right? My friend Roman is helping.”

“Hello there, little prince. Logan has been telling me just how brave you must be, to make it so far in the woods by yourself.” Roman murmured, once again brushing a hand through the child’s hair, his eyes already drifting shut.

“H-hurts. I h-hurt.” Patton wheezed out, tears dripping down his face, and Roman let out a low breath, stroking them away with his thumb.

“I know, little prince. But that’s a good thing, alright? That means your body is waking up from it’s nap in the cold. It means you’re going to be okay.” Patton was trembling, but he nodded.

“O-ok.”

“Patton. This is important. Can you wiggle your toes for me? It might hurt, but it’s very important.” Patton bit his lip, focusing hard, whimpering as more tears fell, but after a long moment, all ten of his toes curled and uncurled.

“Good, that was very, very good, Patton. Thank you, so much.” Logan encouraged, squeezing the kid’s hand once, though he had already slipped back into unconsciousness. Carefully, he finished loosely bandaging Patton’s feet, sweating against the low level heat emenating from Roman, as he scooped Patton back into his arms, nestling him close against his down, settling so Roman was pressed against his side, warmth encasing the nestling.

He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Patton. Every inhale and exhale filled him with relief, as they became longer and steadier, every solid thump of his heart reassuring him, every small movement of his eyes behind their lids making him wonder what he was dreaming of, hoping it was pleasant.

“Logan?” Roman asked, shaking him out of his thoughts, gaze meeting the concerned eyes of his friend. He let out a shaky breath, shaking his head.

“He’s so… small, Roman. So fragile. What am I to do with him?”

“well… you could always keep him.” Roman suggested, voice unusually even. Logan let out a sharp sqwuak, staring at Roman.

“Roman. I cannot simply keep a child. He is human, firstly. Secondly… me!? Raising a nestling!? I don’t know the first thing about caring for one, and this is hardly a safe place for one so little and unable to fly! He… I can’t possibly… what… Roman!” He sputtered, quieting instantly as Patton curled tighter in his arms, making a small whine, tiny hand clenching his feathers. He can feel his heart rate speeding and breath gasping. A nightmare.

Instantly, he’s fussing over the child, stroking his hair, churring softly, a deep rumble in his chest that soothes nestlings, and seems to work just as well on the human, as he settles moments later, though his grip doesn’t loosen.

“not a word.” He threatens, feeling Roman’s smirk without having to look up, unable to look away from Patton’s soft, sleeping face. He takes a deep breath. “he needs humans, Roman. He needs his own kind. I can find a good family for him, a good home. Somewhere stable, that can provide a safe, structured life for him. I cannot in good conscience simply keep him, Roman, no matter my own feelings towards the matter.” He looked up at Roman’s hand on his shoulder, his face serious for once.

“I know you’ll do what’s best, Logan. Just… consider that maybe that means staying with you. Ok?” He nodded, ruffling his feathers.

“I will consider it, Roman.” A brief silence passed by, both lost in their own thoughts, before Logan rested his hand against Patton’s forehead.”

“He’s sufficiently warmed. Would you mind, grabbing some of the furs?”

“Of course, Lo.” Roman swept over, picking out the softest one, carefully wrapping Patton in it, holding the boy in his arms for a moment, before passing him back to Logan. “I’ll leave you to get some rest. Try not to fret yourself to death, Hoot Hoot.” Roman swept out of the cave before Logan could respond, though his indignant spluttering echoed behind him.

…

Fire.

Fire and smoke and screams, everything was burning, and it was so hot, he was trapped in the flames.

He could hear mama calling for him, scared and voice shaky, and he tried to call out, to tell her he was ok, but the smoke choked his lungs, burned his throat, made his eyes water as the flames grew higher. He heard her voice fading, and he tried to chase it, tried to barrel around the flames, screeching as his pants caught aflame for a moment, before  he patted them out, trying to run, though every breath choked him further, and he couldn’t breath, and the flames were closing in and the roof was creaking, and he looked up in time to see a fiery orange beam creak and snap, popping with embers, crashing down, down atop him, and he screamed.

…

“Hush, little one. I have you, little one, I have you.” He was crying, he realized, crying and sobbing, and as he realized that his scream choked off into a gasping, wheezing inhale, the air still burning his lungs despite the lack of smoke.

“Th-they’re gone. They’re all g-gone, aren’t they?” he sobbed out, feeling the hesitation in the answer, which only confirmed it, really, as he shook harder, sobs tearing at his throat. He felt the arms pull him closer, rocking him slowly, something soft and warm pressing in from a sides, but it wasn’t hot, like the fire, it wasn’t trapping and enclosing and crushing him, it was nice and safe and good.

“I’m sorry, Patton. I truly am. It is senseless and cruel and no one should have the right, to take them from you. But they would be so proud, Patton. That’s all they wanted, was for you to keep going, and they fought so that could happen. So you would keep going. And you did. You’ve done so well, little one.” Logan murmurs, heart wrenched in two as Patton shifts in his arms, hugging him around the middle, face buried against his feathers, and he tucks his head against Patton’s, nuzzling his cheek, churring once again, letting Patton cry himself out, letting him grieve, acting as a steady, solid presence to let him know he was safe.

“I m-miss her.” Patton whimpered, and his own breath caught, hugging the nestling tighter, wings wrapping closer.

“I know. And it won’t ever stop, that missing. But it will get easier.” He replied. “I know of some humans, in the next valley over, that would love to have a child, will take good care of you, keep you safe and loved and protected. You’ll be alright.” He uncurled from around Patton as he felt him shifting against him, those blue eyes peering up at him, a frown on his lips, set in his eyes.

“Why… why can’t I stay? Am I not… not g-good, enough? Do you not w-want me?” Patton asked, pulling away and looking down, and oh, how his heart was breaking, absolutely shattering, with fondness for this lost child, how had he already gotten so attached?

“Of course you are, Patton, you’re so good, and incredibly brave and strong and resilient. Of course I want you. But you should be with other humans. It’s dangerous here, for you, there’s so much that could harm you, and I couldn’t stand it if you got injured on my account.” He answered softly, crouching down before Patton, who refused to meet his eyes.

“But I was with people, and I got hurt, already. And… and I kn-know, you’d keep me safe. Y-you’re good, I can tell. Mama always said I was the best judge of character.

“Patton-“

“Please? Please let me stay? I’ll do anything you tell me, I’ll be so good, and quiet, you won’t even know I’m here, I’ll… I’ll…” Logan cut him off, sweeping him into an all encompassing hug, cooing softly, throwing his whole heart into it, feeling Patton bury his head against his shoulder.

“alright. If you’re sure that’s what you really want, I won’t force you to leave, Patton. But you need to know this. Spending so much time around me, around the magic of nature spirits, is going to change you. Over time, it will make you less and less human, more and more… other. At some point, there will be no going back.” He said seriously, making sure Patton was listening, understanding what he was saying. His lip trembled, but he nodded, sharp determination and hope burning in his blue eyes.

“ok.” He said seriously, before tilting his head. “Do you think I’ll grow feathers? Could I get wings, like yours?” Logan chuckled, ruffling Patton’s hair.

“Possibly, with time. Until then, I’ll just have to fly you around. Now, let’s get you off those feet, they’re still healing, and I don’t want you to reopen anything.” Patton sighed, but flopped onto the ground, pulling a fur around him, slightly dejected. He clearly wanted to explore, bubbling with energy, and Logan smiled. “How about I read for you? Will that make sitting still a little more manageable?” He asked, Patton nodding excitedly. He selected a book from the shelf, one of fairytales, before settling on the floor next to Patton, who immediately snuggled up next to him, pressing against his side, under his wing, as Logan began to read.

Soon, his eyes were slipping shut, a huge yawn escaping him, and Logan tucked his wing a little tighter as Patton fell asleep, slumping against his side, hands curling into his feathers. Still, Logan continued to read, not wanting to stop, lest nightmares mar the little one’s rest.

Oh, Roman was going to be so pleased, and not at all surprised, by this turn of events. And he hated to admit it, but he was happy, as well. He knew he would already give anything, for Patton, and he was so excited, to watch him grow. To see what he would grow into. And nothing, nothing would harm his nestling. Not ever again.

…

@fortheloveofjanus

Prompt: Fantasy AU’s

The High Mage’s Apprentice (Snippet 3)

“Here she is, Your Highness.”

A guard brings Mai to a room, where the Crown Prince sits at a table.  He gestures for her to sit, and she takes a seat across from him.

Now that she can take a longer look at him, he appears to be right around her age, or perhaps a bit older.  As before, he wears a serious expression, that dazzling smile from three years ago nowhere to be seen.

Mai gulps.

“After questioning your uncle, I have a basic understanding of the situation.  However, I still need to ask you a few questions.”  He folds his hands over the table.

“Y-Yes?  …Your Highness?” she asks weakly.

“You said you came up with that charm yourself.  Were you aware that it was magic?”

She shakes her head frantically.  “No!  I don’t know anything about magic!”

“You’ve never had a teacher?  Never received training?”

“Never!”

He puts a hand to his lips, thinking.

Mai goes on.  “But…but even if that was magic, I don’t understand why I was wrong to use it?  I was only helping the flowers!”

“It’s not the fact that you were using magic.  It’s the fact that you, an unknown entity, were doing it on the palace grounds.”

She blinks.

The Crown Prince sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I will give you the benefit of the doubt that you’re not merely playing ignorant and explain.  There have been many assassination attempts made on the royal family in past years.  Therefore, we try to maintain tight security and monitor any suspicious activity on the palace grounds.”

“You thought I was an assassin…?”  Mai’s mouth falls open in horror.  Honestly, she barely knows anything about the royal family.  News trickled in to her rural village slowly, and even then, she’s never taken much interest before.  She’s certainly never heard about any attempted assassinations.

“You were snuck in, were you not?”

“Yes…but I didn’t think it was anything wrong!  My uncle said there was an opening…he offered me the job…”

“You didn’t go through the proper procedures.”  He taps his finger on the table.  “We have them for a reason.”

She gulps.  “I didn’t know…”

“You may be able to stumble into positions based only on family connections where you come from, but it doesn’t work like that here.  Do you understand?”

Mai trembles.  “…Please, forgive us.  My uncle only wanted to help.  My parents are both dead.  I had nowhere to go…”

The Crown Prince sighs again.  “He’s not really your uncle.”

“…What…?”

“He confessed to us, quite readily, that he only happened to live in the same residence as your uncle before he passed away, and that is how he received your letters.  You have no real relation to this man.”

Mai feels cold.  She’s been deceived.  Why didn’t she trust her own instincts?  She knew something felt off about the man.

So she is truly all alone in this world.  With nowhere to go, no one to turn to, hardly any money of her own to speak of.  No, besides that, would she even be able to leave this place?  Would they continue to imprison her, or even worse…?

Blinking back tears, Mai leans forward to make one last desperate plea.

“Please!  I was fooled!  I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!”

“No, it appears you didn’t,” the Crown Prince relents.  “You are, indeed, just a fool.  The ones in the wrong are your ‘uncle’ and our so-called palace guards.”  He sighs heavily.  “Honestly…this is why the kingdom is on the brink of ruin.”

“Then…?”  Can she dare to hope? 

“However.”  His eyes turn to her, cold as ice.  “Ignorance is no excuse.”

A chill runs down her back.

“Needless to say, you have lost the job.  Normally, we would require you to serve time as well.  But I am willing to overlook this, on one condition.”

“Wh-Which is…?”

A small smirk plays on his lips.  “You become my apprentice.”

“Your…what?”  The Crown Prince’s apprentice?  What does that mean?  Also, what is with that scheming look?  Where has her sweet prince gone?!

“After all, it would be irresponsible to allow you to roam free without learning how to control your abilities.”

“If you say so…”  But what does that have to do with her becoming his apprentice…?

And then she remembers.  What did her uncle say about the Crown Prince the other day?

“I heard…the Crown Prince is visiting a neighboring kingdom…” she mumbles numbly.

He looks briefly confused.  “Yes.  That would be my brother.”

Hisbrother.  She didn’t even know the Crown Prince had a brother.

“So you are…?”

“The High Mage.”

Of course.  Mai clutches her head.  She really is a fool.