semper fidelis

and i couldn't help but wonder. would you taste like the bourbon you had been putting back all night? would you burn the back of my throat with your desire, and set a fire in me too? and it was so cruel. having to swallow my own desire as it burned the back of my mind, sure that your lips would burn the same way. and how i longed to swallow you whole; breathe you in. consume you. i ached -- to taste the bourbon as it exploded on my tongue, feel your golden warmth radiating from your strong chest. how i wanted to burn, right then. melt under your touch. 

and god, how i wanted the flames to take me. i did. i did. i still do.

        ––––––  ⟢  many had called him a SUN. SUN they called him. his own mother had favored upon him and held him close as her golden boy. SUN they called him, but the only sun in his eyes lay in front of him in. she was the moon, the sun, and all the stars. mateus was never much of a poet, never much of an artistic soul, much to the displeasure of his sisters –– but perhaps he had whispered a hundred poems to her ear and kissed a thousand more against her skin.

“have i kept you waiting?” he asked, never without that twinkle of mirth in his eyes and never without that light lilt of tease. it had felt like home when he set foot on the portuguese soil, but nothing felt more like home than seeing her face, the soft caress of her eyes upon him, the way she seemed to have filled the entire court just by standing there.

he was sure the first time he had lain eyes on her, that she had to be the one for everything. she had to be the one who sat upon the throne beside him, she had to be the one who’s to be heralded as the queen, and she had to be the one for him. though rejection and refusals upon her were harsh at the beginning –– were the cheers that greeted her every time she decided to descended down from the heavens where she rightfully belonged a proof against all those pointed fingers?

closing the distance between them, he put an arm around the small of her waist. the WARMEST of smiles on his face as he pressed his forehead against her. his advisors never did like such public display of affections, but he never minded them, did he?

                SHE FELT THE WEIGHT OF HIS STRONG HANDS on her own frame; the sureness and solidity of his presence bringing comfort to şadiye. within a mere instant, her cup runneth over with a warmth to match his own, as a radiant smile blooms to frame the sun-kissed features of her face. even after all these years, his touch still had an equal effect on her.

şadiye can hardly remember what not loving him feels like, the idea wholly unimaginable to her now. from that very first day, that very first stolen glance. loving him was a reflex she need not think about, proving to her only that it was far too late to turn mateus out of her heart -- part of him lived there, now.

as her forehead was pressed to his, a most welcomed calm washed over her body. it often surprised her how the two were so entwined; woven together by time, by fate. the tip of her nose grazed his own ever-so-slightly as rose petal lips parted. ‘ not for long, ’ the queen replied, her words equal part honey and tease. 

                  SADIYE CERTAINLY WAS A SIGHT TO SEE — in a dress the shade of the finest sapphires, ebony curls cascading down her shoulders, her crown worn with both honor and pride. the moon had long-since died, giving birth to a brilliant light that bathed all of lisbon, and beyond. it was morning; a brand new dawn, and a rather pleasant day for a reunion.

moving with the type of elegance that noble birth granted and no amount of practice allowed, sadiye moved through each corridor of the palace with great ease now. there was a quickness in her step, the ever-present smile upon her lips betraying her calm demeanour. the queen was never one to waste time on such occasions.

ooc // this has been sitting in my drafts for ages now, honestly ? but i am so ready to dive into modern au month with you all, it’s been such a long time coming ! since i'm working for the next two days -- i'm basically confined to my mobile app and plotting things for my babes. so please feel free to like this or hmu for any plots you may have ! you can find what is currently happening with each of my characters below the cut.

The days felt long, longer still now she had no shoulder to lean on. Alexandre unconscious, with clueless physicians who could not even tell her whether he might wake at all, let alone when. Armir stolen away in the middle of the night, with no proper goodbye. Never to meet his supposed goddaughter. She tries her best not to resent him for it, he’d lost more than most in the bombings, his future, and yet still she can’t help but reserve a little bitterness toward him. She had lost things too, she suffered too and she needed him more than ever. Everyday she drowned in duties that a kingdom longed to snatch from her, and with that the stresses of a newborn child to protect too. She’s exhausted and she’s lonely, but still she’ll do all she can for those she loves. Including the wife he’d apparently left behind.

“There are many faces I wish not to look upon, yours is not one of them.” She murmurs, rising with a tired smile from her chaise. “I hadn’t realised you’d remained, thought you might have gone with him too.” Anastasia tilts her head then, lips pursed as she holds her hand out, an open invitation to the woman. “I’ve time now, come. What is it?”

relief and gratefulness washed over her then, as the queen welcomes her in. nina slowly begins to feel any nervousness dissipate as she approaches, taking ana’s hand in her own while flashing a tired smile in return. “truthfully, i had not known of his departure until after he had gone,” she replies so casually, having not really given him much thought until then. that was a mess for another day.

( nina cannot pinpoint why exactly she had been so nervous; perhaps it was simply the nature of their meeting, with nina entirely at her majesty’s mercy. or maybe it was to do with her husband’s sudden departure -- it potentially burning one of the only bridges that antonina had wished to preserve. )

“i do wish to extend my warmest, and most sincere congratulations to you on the birth of your beautiful daughter, ana. and while i cannot speak for armir, or possibly know where you two have left things -- i do want you to know that nathalie will always, always have a place in both my heart, and my home. i have kept your family in my prayers since these attacks, and i am at your service for whatever you may need during this time.” while a letter may have sufficed for her sentiments, nina preferred to voice such words to ana directly. it had always seemed more genuine, in her own opinion. especially amongst friends.

antonina then allowed a moment to lapse between them, tongue wetting her lips as she pondered what to say next. to ask a favour like this from someone -- at a time like this, no less -- was something that she did not take lightly.

“anastasia,” nina spoke, voice soft as her words were absent of all formality. “i had so hoped that i would be able to see you again under better circumstances.” 

a moment lapsed between the two as she chose her next words carefully. antonina could have never imagined that they would all find themselves here; with the world on fire, and the semblance of peace crumbling around them. the chaos and strife that had ravaged bern would stop at nothing, it seemed. ( though, it was the chaos that was to come that plagued her mind the most, leading her to one of the only people here that she could trust. and while she hoped that anastasia still felt the same way about her in return, following her husbands departure from bern, she could no longer be sure. )

ooc // so.... yeah, that just happened ! nice knowing you, swiss castle ! i’ve been super ill the past little while and am still, frankly, really out of it. so i'm going to be honest and let you know that i probably.... won’t be able to be as present as i would like to be during this plot drop. i've included some information under the cut about each one of my children anyways, and if you would like to plot something out with either one of them ( or possibly attempt a thread, as i'm trying not to take on much during this leg of the race ) then please let me know !

his sister. sweet sadiye. sadiye, who had never steered him wrong; sadiye who had ruled in his place and fought off regents till he was old enough to sit on the throne of their father, all upon his own. sadiye. she was something he held onto, originally, in those darkened days when the only light he had was the light in his heart, the glint of a gold coin with their family crest. her, along with ayse and their boy, the little child his wife was set to have. ( god — what of the baby? had ayse delivered him or her successfully? was he a father once again, or was it another loss to be counted? he had missed so much, it felt like a limb was torn from his person. he was determined not to miss anything ever again, yet life had proven, of course — that life wasn’t that fair. )

he stared at his sister for a beat, then two, then three, then four — no words falling from his lips. he desperately wishes he could be like the boy he was. soft and sweet and innocent, his heart without the burdens of the trauma he had lived through. he desperately wishes he could be that just for sadiye, for ayse, for their children. — but it isn’t possible. the boy he was died and the man he is has taken his place. “not even that will help.” kasim grumbled, gaze shifting away from her profile. his eyes were hit by a strip of light and his shoulders tensed. memories flooded his mind, a slight, barely there hiss of pain leaving his lips. ( was this what his life would be like from now on? forever burdened by his trauma, the torture — unable to be a brother for his sister, a husband to his wife and a father to his children? ) “evet. lütfen.” kasim sighed, turning his head away. “ben … ışığa alışık değilim.”

sadiye felt her own frame tense as his did, his own pain mirrored in her. even if she was not the one that had endured months of torture, would never truly feel his pain -- she did. the two of them had always held a connection that surpassed words, so in-tune with the other. ( and how rare it was to have that kind of connection with someone – one where you didn’t even need to words to articulate what was really going on with you. sadiye, perhaps, missed that the most. the understanding, the knowing. )

OBERON MACNAMARA & AILEEN O’CONOR - an aesthetic moodboard 10 / ?  @ofaphrcdite

“Oh, on the contrary.” Her tone lighter than before, voice the usual melody. “I’m quite adept at embarrassing myself. The difference here is that I actually care this time.” She pointed out, a dry smile pulling at pale pink lips. And it was true. Once, she had been Aileen, one half of the O’Conor sisters, seeking out trouble and often finding adventure. She’d fall from her horse, slip in mud, make a fool of herself when she snorted at a joke and laughed too loud at a dinner. But she hadn’t cared then, she’d never cast a single thought to how she’d been perceived then. So free. But that woman was gone, lost at sea with no stars to light her way back home. Oh, how Aileen missed her.

A tentative porcelain hand comes to rest briefly on his, a silent thanks to the offered comfort. ( that was how they always were, always keeping the other up when they were so often knocked down, as if the fates had aligned just to play cruel jokes on them both, destined for loss and not much else… ) “I won’t.” She promised. She’ll try, is all she really means. Her heart would ache, as she had expected it would for the man she had not seen since he’d bid her goodbye on that fated day. Never to return, with nothing but a brush off in a letter to hold onto. Still, she’d rather smile than complain. “You’ve such a way with words, more Shakespeare in you than you think I reckon.” Aileen teased with the slightest of smiles. Her hand fell away then, arms reaching out for the small girl he still held who’s energy finally seemed to be lagging. “Here, I’ll take her. She’ll give you a dead shoulder, the lump.”

he hums a soft hmm as he eyes her carefully, raising his brows ever-so slightly as he nods -- as if to signify that he didn’t quite believe her statement. “i still would protest that fact,“ he says, voice almost teasing. perhaps it’s because of how well he knows her, how much of her that he has had the pleasure to see throughout his lifetime. “but i know better than to argue with you.”

( and part of him wonders, sometimes, if there was something that he could have done for her. for her family. would his efforts have even made a difference, changed their fate? oberon just can’t be sure. )