❛ not for ourselves alone are we born. ❜

❝ She had been glad that she had missed the ball. Dressing up in such outrageous gowns and jewels only to make nice with obnoxious and arrogant people – didn’t seem like much fun to Lorena. It had over a week since the celebratory night had ended and the princess was glad things were getting back to much more important matters. Negotiations had been underway and although tensions would run high and patience would thin, Lorena felt as though the change was beginning – it was a start anyway. 

The young raven-haired beauty had stepped outside to gather her thoughts and get some air; walking aimlessly before she’d apparently come across a person who had clearly continued on with the hedonistic spirits of the event. “That’s not a very respectable thing to say, señor.” It had been a firm but refrained warning, but apparently, it hadn’t been much of one because the next thing she knew, the man staggered forward and in one swift movement, had one arm wrapped around her in a sloppy embrace. Before she had time to react, another form had made an appearance. ❞ 

Oliver had just arrived from a hunt with the men of the castle. Such frivolities he enjoyed, more so than ever, since he had been deprived of them for many a year because of the war. The Danish prince fought side by side with his men in the field, and while the thrill of a good fight invigorated him, he thought it better to seek solace in an activity that didn’t involve the price of his head. 

Astrid had a tendency to quite easily get lost in a book, and completely shut out the outside world. So when someone had come up to talk to the youngest Oldenburg, she had totally missed what they had said. “Oh, I apologize, but I completely missed that. Do you mind saying it again?” She asked, closing her book as she looked up at the other.

When his Astrid snapped back to attention, a soft chuckle poured from Oliver’s lips. He was used to seeing his sister engrossed in a book. All three Oldenburgs seemed to have an affinity for the written word -- a quirk they inherited from their mother. "Have you eaten already?” he asked in their native tongue. “You weren’t in breakfast this morning.” In a bout of brotherly concern, he showed a small frown. “In any case,” he pushed a plate of bread and fruits towards her, “you should eat.”

          it seemed all they ever did in bern was talk. there were talks between countries and monarchs, nobility, diplomats. the russian prince wasn’t normally one to shy away from socializing, but for once, he needed a breather and found himself in the gardens alone. or so he thought. he had found a lonely stone bench to sit on, but upon hearing footsteps on the stone path, he turned to look. ❝ no rest for the wicked.❞ he jokingly greeted the newcomer with no ill intend in his tone of voice. ❝ i see i’m not the only one who needed to get some fresh air. you can sit if you’d like. ❞

      ❝ perhaps, but one I think would be best saved for another day. ❞  a laugh, before she padded quickly down the long carpet to catch up,  ❝ after all, i shouldn’t like to freeze. i hear this castle gets very cold at night. ❞

Aurelia’s mind was clouded with thoughts of home; Italy weighed heavily on her mind as she longed to drown in the sounds of the Italian language and the smell of the Tyrrhenian Sea. She sat in the window, Apollo snoring loudly at her feet. Any moment someone would walk by and scold her for letting him perch himself like a human rather than a dog, and she’d ignore their demands to shoo him off. With her brother busy and her homesickness rampant, she needed that little piece of home at her side. Her eyes flickered up as her face turned towards Oliver, lips pursed as she pretended to wrack her brain for a memory. “Hm, earlier this morning, the beast and I caused a scene at breakfast,” she sighed, “–but since then I’m afraid the day has been rather mundane.” She studied his features for a moment, then observed, “You look like you’re scheming.” 

At Aurelia’s unabashed mention of her morning escapade, Oliver’s lips erupted into an amused grin. As with her, he had been there for breakfast, although he didn’t stay long enough to witness the chaos she and her dog had caused. It did not matter, however. With the court being a cesspool of loose lips, it didn’t take long for the news to reach his ears. They were alike in attitudes, Oliver and her. He knew that if anyone among the royals were more brazen than him, it would be Aurelia. This was why, when the incident was made true by her own tongue, the prince did not act as if he were scandalled, nor did he display an ounce of disbelief. “That, I am,” he replied with a tasteful sliver of mischief and pride. “How would you feel about sneaking out into the city, you and I?”

her eyes grew wide with an amused sort of shock. it was quite unbelievable that he’d come to her because he couldn’t sleep. “oliver,” a bit of tenderness at his name, “it is the middle of the night.” against her will, an amused grin tried working its way onto her features. she rolled her lips together to neutralize her expression once more. at the mention, memories that she had been recalling for days were flooding her memories once more. “of course i do,” isobel whispered. her life had been forever changed when oliver walked into it. every word of every memory he had seemed to twist isobel’s heart, painfully wringing every drop of emotion from her chest. “henry jacoby deserved it,” her voice shook with the weight of her feelings. knees threatened to buckle as she recalled their first kiss and she swayed toward him as he took a step toward her. “oliver,” his name was always tender on her lips, but his name was a gentle warning not to continue. isobel’s chest was swelling painfully with love she was sure he wasn’t to return. surely, she would not survive the course of conversation if it continued this way. he mentioned her suitors and she shook her head. “i never…” isobel would spend her days alone if not with oliver. then he mentioned war and the princess was struck with the nauseating fear that she had lived with for years. for a moment, she swam in her tide of emotions before she took a tentative step to close the remaining distance between them. “oh, oliver,” unable to keep herself afloat, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest. even if he never returned her feelings, isobel resolved to love him until her dying breath.

it was natural, how his hands snaked towards the small of her back in response to the feel of her body. with her face against his chest, oliver knew she could sense his heart pummeling wildly against his ribcage; wanting to be hers, wanting to be free. normally, he’d hide the storm in his chest that she alone could bring. that night, however, and on the days that followed suit, he wanted her to bathe in it. he wanted her to know that the love he felt for her, it was sure and strong and real. oliver was nearly a foot taller than isobel. as the cold breeze tickled the nape of his neck and the crickets sung their songs, his chin rested on top of her head. when he spoke again for what felt like an eternity, his voice came in a whisper, hoarse and honeyed. "isobel, i am a foolish, selfish man, and i don’t know if i deserve your love, truly.” a hopeful smile stemmed from his soft lips. “but i shall work night and day for it, for i want to be yours -- body and soul, entirely.” he cradled the side of her face with his hand, gingerly asking her to read his eyes. “i’m mad for you.” a gentle brush of the thumb on her cheek. “i was a fool to think i was anything but.” a tender caress of fingers on her silk-clad back. “i love you, isobel moray. i always have and i always will.”

—— ❝ let’s start off easy. tell me the basics. ❞

hi hi hi i’m water from gmt+8 and this is my second character, amelia a.k.a. cinnamon roll a.k.a. too precious for this world and must be protected at all costs. if you'd like to plot with either her or oliver (or both) just give this a like and i'll drop by your inbox!

( bella heathcote, 24, she/her ) silence! can you not see her majesty, AMELIA ROSE WINDSOR, has arrived? it seems the PRINCESS OF ENGLAND is willing to compromise for peace, which makes sense when everyone calls them THE LIONHEARTED. have you tried approaching them? i heard they can be rather sickly + stubborn, but their staff say that they’re courageous + passionate.