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@princederic-blog
“Not a bad analogy. When she goes off, it’s usually accompanied by a bang. I do get the sense that Maleficent is taking some down time before the storm, but one can never tell with faeries. Devilishly tricky lot.”
“I’ve been known to have my moments, you could say. This calm before the storm mantra...I’ve heard it too many times in the past. Every time, she never fails to terrorize us all.”
“I’m afraid to learn what else she’s capable of doing to Verden.”
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“Has anyone heard from Maleficent lately? I feel as though she’s a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off.”
“It may be my tone, then. I know what’s going on behind one kingdom’s doors, and it is not what a commoner wants to see after so many died. If you want to survive, you’ll need a plan. And if you want to avoid a war, you give the antagonist what they want, or you fight. And most of you don’t want to fight.”
“Tone can be a great indicator of many things, mademoiselle; if there’s anything I’ve learned through my tutoring and instruction over the years, it’s that a person’s disposition and general attitude can possess the power to spark a war or ignite thoughts of peace. Something to that effect, at least. A plan would be preferable, yes, but not many seem to have anything solidified yet. We’re all joined in unity against Maleficent now...it will take more than the opinions of one legal council to come to an agreement.”
“Ah, you certainly don’t need to tell me that. My relations were far, far away from the events that occurred that night. I am glad for their eccentricity. Perhaps it shouldn’t have happened, which is exactly why it did. Fate can be funny that way. That comes as a bit of a surprise to me. She cursed a neighbouring kingdom’s princess with death in sixteen years. The power that one needs to sustain a spell for so long is no laughing matter. Now that Maleficent no longer has to focus her time on that, she is far stronger than before. Frankly I don’t know what her limit is, and that in itself is terrifying. Well, it’s too late to find out now, is it? You have, after all, decided so firmly on war rather than peace.”
“I’m glad for you as well, monsieur; I don’t know how I would have been able to bear the grief if I’d managed to lose a loved one or countryman that evening. I feel sorry for Prince Naveen, his nation, and everyone who got tangled up with the strange ghostly phenomenons that invaded his castle. I haven’t met many fae in my life, so you’ll excuse me for not comprehending the full weight of her powers. My nation’s closer with merfolk than land magic, so to speak.”
“You’re right, of course, it is terrifying. It’s like peering over the edge of a mountain and finding nothing but a dark abyss. War...yes...”
“No, fortunately. I hope you didn’t either. Mh… I’m not sure if a lot of people are willing to listen to her demands anymore. And I don’t think she’s willing to hear us out either.”
“Not now, of course, because everything’s different now...do you ever wonder if we, as humans, create our own monsters? If we are responsible for our own pain and suffering?”
“I just fear it may be too late for many of us. It doesn’t mean I’m willing to stop, I just...think we all have a lot to think about.”
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“Define everyone. There was still many, many who died that night… Was there ever a chance of her listening to negotiations? Would anyone have even given her a chance at all?”
“I’ve only recently been made aware of some of the losses Verden was dealt that night...for that, I sincerely apologize. My heart and soul goes to those who are grieving; did you lose anyone personally, your highness? As far as negotiations go...I’m not sure. It would have depended entirely on her demands, I think.”
“That depends on your definition of okay, for there are quite a few who aren’t feeling that way right now. The important ones are probably alive, however. Tell me, did you really think negotiations were possible? As I understand it, the royal families hardly gave her the time of day until now, and it was rather clear that her last stunt hadn’t left a strong enough incentive to speak on equal grounds.”
“If anyone lost someone as a result of Maleficent’s attack on Halloween-- whether it be friend or family, then my heart goes out to them and I offer my sincerest condolences. It was an unfortunate incident that never should have happened to begin with. Up until recently, I was quite ignorant of the full extent of Maleficent’s powers; not hailing from Mirindra myself, my country was ill-informed of her character and abilities. All we knew was based on the information provided to us by the King and Queen of our neighboring nation. I think if she’d been given land for herself to rule, she still wouldn’t have been satisfied.”
“I am not speaking for the families, just voicing my opinion. A war is not what most of the kingdoms need at the moment, so that seems the better choice than risking more lives and facing bloodshed.”
“It certainly sounds like you’re attempting to speak for the families and assume that you know what’s going on behind closed doors. Avoiding wars is always the preferable option; right now, Maleficent doesn’t seem to be giving anyone much of a secondary option, however.”
ERIC ANDERSEN - ENFJ / “The Protagonist”
“ENFJs are natural-born leaders, full of passion and charisma. Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers, reaching out and inspiring others to achieve and to do good in the world. People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said.”
“What comes next? Are the royals just going to sit around and do nothing? That seems to be the plan right now. Personally, I think they should just hand their kingdoms over to Maleficent with a little bow on top.”
“I beg your pardon? What right do you have to speak for the governing families of Verden?”
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“I take it everyone made it out okay, then? I haven’t heard much from any of the other countries in the few days following the nightmare in Maldonia, but I trust everyone made it out safely? It’s more clear to me now than ever before that Maleficent needs to be stopped. She won’t make negotiations with any of the countries now--that much is painstakingly clear to me.”
Ice Cubes || Eric & Perseus
With the party raging on Perseus was having the time of his life. The costumes were lovely, the people were friendly and the decorations were fantastic. The Maldonian royal family had gone all out for this event and it showed in all the little details they’d put together to make this night the best it could possibly be. After spending over an hour dancing and talking to anyone that would listen Flounder made his way over to one of the many large refreshment tables that dotted the sides of the enormous ballroom dedicated to the occasion.
As this was only his second time on land most of the human cuisine lined up on the table was a mystery to him but he wasn’t going to let that deter him from enjoying himself completely, and that including eating as much food as his body would allow. He grabbed a plate off the dwindling stack and started picking out any and all food that looked even the slightest bit appetizing, slowly making his way up the table to the beverages. There were four clear punch bowls sitting there all with a different coloured liquid, all of them smelled vaguely like alcohol but since Perseus had already decided he really didn’t care if he got drunk or not ignored the smell in favour of trying to get a read on the other ingredients.
It took him a moment to realize that even if he could smell something he probably wouldn’t  recognize it anyway but once he did he made the decision to just try them all. He’d picked up both a cup and the ladle to the bowl closest to him when he noticed small squares floating in the drink. He stared at them confused for a minute before looking around for someone to ask about them.
He spotted a man slightly out of speaking range and called to him, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “Excuse me, sir, I was wondering if you would be able to tell me what the little floating things in this punch are? I’m afraid I’ve never seen them before.”
Eric Andersen was having the time of his life--what better way to celebrate Halloween, after all, than by dressing up and attending an illustrious ball by a royal family with quite the reputation of song, dance, and everything entertaining in-between? And Prince Naveen Lazarov and his parents had definitely pulled out all of the stops for this event. There were decorations as far as the eye could see; skeletons and pumpkins and glittering ornaments draped across the palace. There was themed food and spooky beverages--and, of course, the people. People from all across Verden had shown up for what was certain to be the Halloween event of the decade, decked out in outfits inspired from books, music, magical lore, and so much more. Eric couldn’t even count on one hand the amount of ornate masks and colorful outfits he’d seen around the Lazarov castle tonight; it was an explosion of color, of culture, of exotic flavors. And it was easily the most excitement Eric had engaged in in quite a while (and that was saying quite a bit, considering the Festival of Joy held in Corona not too long prior). It was definitely a spectacle Eric was grateful he didn’t miss out on.
But still...the excitement of the party wasn’t enough to distract him from the nagging, sinking feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. He knew, deep down, that throwing a party so soon after Maleficent had staked her claim over the people of Verden was not the most intelligent idea. Prince Naveen could assure his guests again and again that security would man the castle and make sure they were all protected and safe, but Corona had done something quite similar for their festival and Maleficent had still managed to sneak in and terrorize the concluding festival of lights. The Prince of Maldonia could be well assured that Maleficent and her empire of darkness wouldn’t slip into the costume ball, but after everything that had happened in Corona back in September...Eric wasn’t completely sure he believed it.
In fact, there was a very real, very strong part of the Aldoran prince who felt that all the countries should stop throwing all of these balls and instead have large, realm-wide conferences between leaders to help decide what to do about Maleficent and her threats.
But for now, Eric would try to shove those worrisome thoughts out of his mind. He’d managed to attend the Halloween ball with the very same captivating young woman he’d met at the Festival of Lights back in September. Ariel was a treat to be around, truly, and Eric found himself smitten with her the entire evening--so who was he to spend his time worrying about something that could easily be dealt with tomorrow? Who was he to ruin a wonderful evening with a wonderful girl for the sake of nerves? It made no sense, so Eric shoved his concerns down to the pit of his stomach and focused on enjoying what remained of his evening with the bright and vivacious redhead who served as his companion. At one point, Eric--rather tired from all of their dancing and chattering--excused himself from their secluded table in the corner with the promise of bringing Ariel back something to drink and a few snacks for them to share. Thankful that the food and beverage tables seemed to be relatively vacant, Eric was quick to grab a plate and started tossing onto it snacks that he thought would appeal to the young woman (and himself, of course). So wrapped up in his task, he almost missed the young man calling out for him. In fact, if Eric hadn’t looked up at the exact moment his attention was being called, it was entirely possible the prince would’ve been ignorant of the fact that anyone was even speaking to him.
Confused by the young man’s inquiry, Eric moved forward, glanced inside of the punch bowl, and arched a brow. He couldn’t possibly mean...could he...?
“Are you referring to...the ice cubes?” Eric asked hesitantly, glancing up at the boy from the punch bowl.
Non-Alcoholic | Eric & Maddox
The combination of music, drunk laughter and people talking was easily loud enough to wake the dead but since Maddox wasn’t dead, which at this moment he considered unfortunate, all it did was give him a splitting headache. The oppressing heat only made things worse and so when someone approached him from behind and he wasn’t paying proper attention, something he’d get mad at himself for later, it took him a moment to react. In the dim light he didn’t immediately recognize the man, although he did have to stop himself from laughing at what was obviously supposed to be a trident, so he moved aside to let him access the table.
He looked over to respond to his comment on the heat—and hopefully get help to pick out a drink—when his companions face was thrown into the yellowish glow from the gas lamps decorating the walls, briefly defining high cheekbone. It took him a second to place the chiselled jawline and wavy black hair but he quickly realized that the man beside him was the same man that had, for lack of better word, scolded him for not being chipper enough at the festival not too long ago. He dimly recalled the man telling him he was from Aldora, complete with his countries claim to fame, before being whisked away by someone calling him “your highness.” Maddox prided himself on being at least moderately intelligent and had already put together from their previous encounter that this man was a prince, although he couldn’t remember what the prince from Aldora’s name was aside from the fact that it was relatively short and that is was not Steve.
In an effort to avoid being told off once again by a man that couldn’t have been more than five years older then him, Maddox decided to pretend he didn’t recognize him and attempted to make small talk. “It is quite hot in here, isn’t it? It’s not that much nicer outside either, which is unfortunate. That’s an… interesting costume you’ve got there. What—or who—are you supposed to be exactly?”
He quirked an eyebrow hoping his question didn’t offend the stranger, who may have, incorrectly, thought his costume easily recognizable. Maddox glanced down at his ensemble, noticing some similar elements between the two and tried to recall some of the other notable persona’s from the book he’d gotten his costume idea from. He briefly recalled a section on mythological gods featuring a picture of a man holding a trident similar to the one next to him but he couldn’t remember the name because he didn’t at the time deem it necessary to remember. “You wouldn’t be able to tell me which of these drinks doesn’t have alcohol in it would you? I’m terrible at being able to tell.”
Eric just wanted to enjoy a bit of a reprieve from the constant chatter and livelihood of the party before throwing himself right back into the thick of it all once more. And what better way to take a breather and calm down than to lounge over by the various snack and beverage tables that were stationed at each corner of the spacious ballroom? Eric had heard that Maldonia was a spicy melting pot of flavor of culture, and his mouth was practically salivating at the thought of trying some of their country’s cuisine. He’d heard that they featured beignets, a classic French dish that was also popular in most regions of Aldora, and couldn’t wait to get his hands on the deep fried pastry (and covered in powdered sugar, to boot!). Scattered across the tables were various Halloween-inspired food and drinks to choose from, and if the gentleman standing in front of would just move to the side for a moment so that Eric could pour himself some punch (perhaps the Goblin’s Goop or Witches Brew he saw laid out on the table), collect his precious beignets, and then scatter away and head back to the party.
What Prince Eric hadn’t been counting on, however, was the identity of the strange man he was waiting in line behind.
The moment the stranger looked over his shoulder--whether to acknowledge Eric’s presence with a nod or to respond, the young prince didn’t have the slightest clue--his face was thrown into the dim, shadowy light of the corners of the ballroom, and after a few moments of trying to decipher the familiarity of his strong, sharp features, Eric was able to identify the mystery man as none other than the same stranger he’d gotten into a bit of an argument with back at the Festival of Joy. How strange and unusual it was for Eric to run into him here of all places; it made sense for the stranger to attend the costume ball on some level, given that it was open for admission to all residents of Verden, but at the same time...this gentleman had abhorred the Festival of Joy with everything in him, so why would he put himself through this again? He’d claimed he’d come along purely for the sake of his friend last time--was his excuse the same this time around? Was he so indebted to his friend that he had to follow them around everywhere?
And was his interaction with Eric going to be as unpleasant and brutal as it was the last time?
When the stranger opened his mouth, Eric fully expected to be told off or cursed out (or, quite frankly, to be told he was going to have to deal with not having anything to eat or drink for the moment). So when the man instead commented on the heat of the room and acted as though he had no idea who in the world Eric was, Aldora’s prince blinked in bemusement. Was it possible that Eric had mistaken the man for someone else? No, no...looking closely at him, Eric was certain now more than ever that this was the man he’d gotten into a tiff with at the last realm-wide event. Eric licked his lips, fully prepared to say something, but decided instead that he’d go along with this strange little charade...for now.
“Er...” Eric began, fumbling over his speech as he made an effort to concentrate his energy on the increasingly bizarre conversation at hand. “Have you ever heard of Greek mythology? The ancient Greeks had their own god and goddess system; deities that they observed and obeyed. Different gods and goddesses wielded different powers and responsibilities. Poseidon was observed by them as the god of the sea and known protector of all aquatic creatures. And try the red drink on the far right; I saw a few people opt for it. One told me it was just fruit punch.”
Event #2: The Spirits’ Rampage
Eric Andersen will be going dressed as…the Greek God Poseidon.
Hopefully Atlantica’s King won’t take offense.
aaurorarose:
Aurora gave a small curtsy in response to Eric’s manners, blushing slightly at his kind words. Not that it would be obvious under the elaborate makeup she wore but still, she could feel the heat in her cheeks. “It’s a wonder you were able to recognize me at all Señor, this costume seems to do a good job of hiding my true identity for the most part.”
“Oh, that’s lovely, you look handsome your highness! A most fitting costume for the Prince who lives beside the sea. Gracias, yes there is! Thought most of it is not at all nice. La Catrina comes from a place of pain and suffering; a reflection of the pressures of assimilating to European culture, but alas it’s not really the appropriate topic for a conversation at a party. I would hate to uh…how do you say…be the pooper….party pooper? Ay Dios, I mean I would hate to ruin the mood!”
Princess Aurora was a kind, bubbly, and energetic young princess-- Eric was beyond pleased that Maleficent’s curse (which was so widely known of throughout Verden) hadn’t gotten the best of the young princess. He enjoyed her company endlessly; especially on a night when he thought he could use a friendly face or two.
“Consider me an expert in facial recognition, then! Excellent job on the makeup, though--really, it looks fantastic.” And Eric was genuine as he said this; whomever had helped her apply the face paint certainly knew what they were doing. They’d turned Princess Aurora into a work of art for the evening--it was absolutely dazzling. “Regardless of La Catrina’s depressing background, I think you represent her beautifully this evening, mademoiselle. Or--and I’m still learning, so bear with me-- señorita? That’s correct, isn’t it?”
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jacqueslefou:
“Oh! Honestly, I thought you were a merman with legs. Which was…slightly confusing, but now that makes perfect sense.”
“You must really love the sea, Poseidon. I’ve never seen it myself, sadly.”
“A merman with legs? That sounds a bit confusing and misleading; hopefully other people at the costume ball are able to recognize who I’m supposed to be! That’s a tad embarrassing!”
“I do--one of my favorite hobbies is sailing. You’ve never been to the ocean?”
Ariel and Eric!
who cooks normally?: Eric’s grown up having professional chefs cater to him and his family, but he’d still attempt to contribute with a meal all on his own. He’d try to make the royal chef’s famous crab cakes, but they’d end up looking like lumpy mounds of sand. Ariel would just provide some seaweed to the table and excitedly declare, “It’s organic!” Needless to say, they order out most nights.
how often do they fight?: Eric and Ariel tend not to fight very often with one another, despite their clash of cultures (and differing limbs). Sure, they have tiffs every now and again, but all Eric has to do is whip out a fork, and suddenly Ariel’s running it through her hair and thanking him for buying her such a beautiful dinglehopper. Wait...a what?
what do they do when they’re away from each other?: Eric pines for her endlessly. Guy’s got it pretty bad, and the whole “hopeless romantic” thing to boot doesn’t work much in his favor. Fortunately for him, Ariel’s got the same lovesick disease.
nicknames for each other?: In private, Eric would fondly refer to Ariel as “Little Red” or his “little flipper.” Ariel mostly sighs Eric’s name, but once she became accustomed to human culture and slang, would like the way “baby” sounded on the tip of her tongue.
who is more likely to pay for dinner?: Eric will insist, and Ariel will blush and offer, but he’ll quickly refute her and slip the waiter some money beneath the table.
who steals the covers at night?: Eric’s guilty of this, but he doesn’t do it consciously. He’s just so, well, big.
what would they get each other for gifts?: Eric would have a music box reminiscent of the sea crafted for Ariel, and she’d eagerly produce an entire cutlery set for him, excitedly presenting Eric with an entire collection of dinglehoppers!
who kissed who first?: Eric, with clammy hands and a racing heart the entire time. It was really quite exhilarating.
who made the first move?: It was probably a bit of a mutual thing; Ariel couldn’t quite stop herself from flirting, and Eric couldn’t bear the thought of stepping away.
who remembers things?: Eric does, but it’s difficult when Ariel’s around, constantly distracting him.
who started the relationship?: Again, it was definitely a conscious effort on both of their parts. It was difficult to keep the rebellious mermaid princess and the human prince yearning for more away from one another.
who cusses more?: What a scandalous thing to suggest! Ariel probably doesn’t know much of cussing (at least in human terms). As far as Eric, goes, well...in the words of Princess Anna, “Excuse me, sir, he is a prince.”
what would they do if the other one was hurt?: Eric would fight his way through hell and back in an effort to get Ariel to safety. He would cross any obstacle that stumbled into his path to protect her, and Ariel would do equally as much for Eric.
