as you wish ft. dareswins
Mar. 18th, 2023 04:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cross_fired posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
cake_eateryWhen the arrangement had first been announced, Simon was scarcely above his father’s knee looking at the visiting family with a wary kind of curiosity. His brother was to marry the eldest MacTavish clan princess. It was supposed to be the marriage to bind their lines together and secure a future for both their people. Simon took one look at the scrawny Prince and decided hiding in the library was much better use of his time. Only— then the newest Lieutenant of the Guards would find him and heft him up on his broadening shoulders. Price smelled of horses and worn leather and the unease he’d felt melted from his stomach as the older boy insisted that he regale him with stories from the dozens of books.
Why couldn’t the MacTavish prince be like Price? Simon finds himself thinking it more and more often as he emerges from a tangle of moves and Price’s arm thrown around him to protect him. It would make the union if their families so much easier. When they leave the young Prince can’t help but think that their departure couldn’t come soon enough. The time flies, he finds himself forgoing more and more novels in favor of combat. His father is weak and gods above does he hate spending longer than necessary with the dying man. Somehow it’s cruel then that treachery would have the Riley line nearly cut short. Simon escaped by barely just, content to leave the old bastard and quiet Simon. A knife in the night and the vacation home they’re staying at is enflamed. To the world the dynasty is gone. There’s a new title that takes root when the Prince returns home; Ghost King. Instead of chasing the notion away, he weaponized it. It was easy enough to fashion something of nothing. Though small rumors would try to spread, the chokehold the town was capped while the guards would move on the town citing the new improvements that “The Ghost proclaims.”
When the next time the snows melted and he received word that the MacTavish bride would be arrive shortly, he’d nearly forgotten. They sought to honor their bond and bind their houses together. Seemed impossible if his brother was dead.
Odd that they’re a handsome man amidst the crowd that Simon, wreathed in gold and old bones and skulls, follows. At first it seemed random and then in his frustration he’d watch the other man look around the halls. He always seemed lost but Simon liked watching the man. If only the MacTavish bride were half moderately pretty and just as amused from what little he’d seen. The castle is rife with them, dozens of the MacTavish clan preparing for the impending wedding to the Ghost King of Glaswell. Simon made himself scarce and Price, now a captain, had no time to humor him. ‘It’s in writ, should somethin’ happen boy you’ll do the only think your good at; be pretty and marry that daft little princeling.’ The truth was laid out by his future mother-in-law with signatures aplenty to stake claim via sons. His father had a terrible sense of humor for a son of a bastard. The long days spent in solitude do very little for the fact staring down at well worn vellum with the promised wedding arranged nearly twenty years ago.
Looking up from his books when the door creaks close. A brief glance tugs his lips into something of a small beneath the mask. “Ah, Soap was it? I supposed it’s good that a servant ought to find me in lieu of the MacTavish.” Fool he was, he only knew the man behaving as a servant. What his so called beloved looked like? Doable. So he’s quick to motion to the chair across from him. All the Ghost King knows is that his favorite servant is set to depart with the rest of the MacTabish family. It felt sefish to want for more.
“Wandering around again?”
Why couldn’t the MacTavish prince be like Price? Simon finds himself thinking it more and more often as he emerges from a tangle of moves and Price’s arm thrown around him to protect him. It would make the union if their families so much easier. When they leave the young Prince can’t help but think that their departure couldn’t come soon enough. The time flies, he finds himself forgoing more and more novels in favor of combat. His father is weak and gods above does he hate spending longer than necessary with the dying man. Somehow it’s cruel then that treachery would have the Riley line nearly cut short. Simon escaped by barely just, content to leave the old bastard and quiet Simon. A knife in the night and the vacation home they’re staying at is enflamed. To the world the dynasty is gone. There’s a new title that takes root when the Prince returns home; Ghost King. Instead of chasing the notion away, he weaponized it. It was easy enough to fashion something of nothing. Though small rumors would try to spread, the chokehold the town was capped while the guards would move on the town citing the new improvements that “The Ghost proclaims.”
When the next time the snows melted and he received word that the MacTavish bride would be arrive shortly, he’d nearly forgotten. They sought to honor their bond and bind their houses together. Seemed impossible if his brother was dead.
Odd that they’re a handsome man amidst the crowd that Simon, wreathed in gold and old bones and skulls, follows. At first it seemed random and then in his frustration he’d watch the other man look around the halls. He always seemed lost but Simon liked watching the man. If only the MacTavish bride were half moderately pretty and just as amused from what little he’d seen. The castle is rife with them, dozens of the MacTavish clan preparing for the impending wedding to the Ghost King of Glaswell. Simon made himself scarce and Price, now a captain, had no time to humor him. ‘It’s in writ, should somethin’ happen boy you’ll do the only think your good at; be pretty and marry that daft little princeling.’ The truth was laid out by his future mother-in-law with signatures aplenty to stake claim via sons. His father had a terrible sense of humor for a son of a bastard. The long days spent in solitude do very little for the fact staring down at well worn vellum with the promised wedding arranged nearly twenty years ago.
Looking up from his books when the door creaks close. A brief glance tugs his lips into something of a small beneath the mask. “Ah, Soap was it? I supposed it’s good that a servant ought to find me in lieu of the MacTavish.” Fool he was, he only knew the man behaving as a servant. What his so called beloved looked like? Doable. So he’s quick to motion to the chair across from him. All the Ghost King knows is that his favorite servant is set to depart with the rest of the MacTabish family. It felt sefish to want for more.
“Wandering around again?”
