#elysande

Okay this will be brief because there is actually a lot about them. So here are the spark notes 👍👍 Oh, one thing, I originally created these characters for a DND setting so it’s a bit of that vibe and world. But it’s mutated and grown beyond that now… run

Elysande is the second born of the royal family in a sunny, bustling coastal city. However, due to a dangerously early birth and her albinism (which makes her sensitive to sunlight and also astigmatism, among other things), her family is very protective of her, and since she was little, shes had a personal guard of the Aurelian order (i could talk about the order a lot, just know it’s a very high ranking knight/paladin order)

When she was little, it was Adrian’s father. When Adrian came of age, the torch passed to him and he became Elysande’s personal guard.

Adrian is the typical lawful good knight kind of guy. He was largely raised by his mother (since his dad was almost always at the castle), a strong-hearted woman who taught him patience, watchfulness, and discipline. Both of his parents live together now, running a shop in the next town over for adventurers.

Adrian is a quiet man, reserved and thoughtful. He loves all forms of nature, and is a masterful knight. (You dont get to be an Aurelian Knight without being incredible). Adrian lives by his oaths, finds joy and direction in them, and is proud to be an Aurelian Knight. He is proud to protect Elysande, although to be honest, she doesn’t need much protection. Their kingdom has been a peaceful one, with a bright future. But he’s happy to do it anyway, because Elysande makes it worth it.

Shes smart as a whip, a good listener, and can read people well enough to give Adrian a run for his money. She loves to read, but because of her astigmatism, she has someone read for her. Originally it was some other servants job, but one day, Adrian took it over (at her request) and hadn’t stopped since.

They are in a sloooow burn. They love each other dearly, and Elysande is much more open about it than Adrian is, making doe eyes at him and keeping him closer than is really necessary. Adrian is much shyer about it. Romance is not like the rules of swordplay. It’s finicky and fluid and frankly, nerve wracking. (Maybe he’s got a touch of the tism , who knows)

And then there’s the whole thing about how technically they should not even be thinking of romance, due to her status as a princess and future queen of another kingdom. Knight and princess flings are not unheard of, but it is hard to initiate something when you know it will end someday. It is even harder to do so when the love you have for the other is so complete, so consuming, that you fear that if you give in, it will leave you empty and blank once it is taken away.

Anyway. Cue mutual pining but one sided flirting but also the dread of knowing it will all end sooner rather than later but also wait are we kissing after the ball rn?? Thats a story for a different time. A PP is needed.

There’s also an actual story besides the romance that includes anger and betrayal and dark magic and faked deaths and journeys fueled by love and a desperate hope and a terrible, terrible choice with no good answer.

Ugh I love these guys sm. THANK YOU MORBID ART!!!!!!!! Because of this art I’m making it canon that Adrian’s blush is VERY obvious (teehehehheheee)

I scoff, but it's brittle. "Right. Well, sorry to disappoint. Not all of us can have emotionally sterile entanglements and call it a day."

Xaden lifts a brow. "Sterile?"

"Emotionally," I correct, grinning even as something twists tighter in my chest. "Anyway, you're not immune, Xaden Riorson. One day, you're going to fall. Hard. So hard your shadow won't know what hit it. You'll find someone who loves you so fiercely, those steel-reinforced walls of yours won't stand a chance."

He gives me a long look. Dark. Unreadable. "I'll take my chances with steel walls, thanks."

"Oh. It's going to be glorious. When that day comes, I will be gloating. With banners. And parades. And dramatic quotes of your dumbest declarations. I've got a pretty good memory."

Xaden shakes his head, but he's smiling, the kind of smile that feels like a sigh disguised as amusement. "Gods, you're hopeless."

"Hopelessly right," I counter, jabbing him lightly in the ribs with my elbow. "You'll see. Some poor, stunning soul is going to fall for all your brooding and emotional scars and your completely unnecessary angst. And when she does—"

"—She'll run screaming," he deadpans.

Princess Elysande of Celestrom: A young woman of 23, she is Theodric’s elder sister who actively takes over his regency when she reaches her majority.

Personality: Mature, level-headed, emotionally intelligent, calculating, and a mother hen to her siblings. She protects as much much as she can, even resorting to some less than palatable tactics. She’s lauded as well for having all the desired “feminine” qualities. Probably the most suited of her siblings to rule.

Appearance: Hair of starlight, sea green eyes. She has a bit of a baby face even into adulthood, and she prefers to wear high necklines and the color blue.

Hobbies: Writing, hawking, swims in the nearby lakes and oceans, playing the harp, and embroidery

History & Relationships: She was born the eldest daughter and child in a time of war and became her mother’s emotional crutch for several years. She is her brother’s heir as his eldest sibling and she immediately adapts to her life as a Princess Royal. Having seen the chaos of war and how it led to her mother’s rapid decline, she is devoted to her family and obsessed with protecting them no matter what. She has a close relationship with her mother initially, until the queen mother is confined to a wing of the castle, while she is very close to her siblings. She is close to her cousin, Gryffen, though the nature of that closeness is up to speculation and court gossip.

And the bastard is calm. Like this is just another meeting. Like we're not talking about shackling him to a conniving bitch.

"It's not binding, Bodhi. Not yet. Just… necessary. We're just seeing where this goes. If it could work out."

The word necessary sends a chill down my spine. I hear doors slamming. Her name spoken over a contract. A princess passed like a pawn.

I flinch before I can yell at him that it's definitely not working out for him.

"You know what that did to her?" My voice cracks open, sharp as a dagger. "What it's doing to her? And now you're—what—volunteering for the same fucking sentence?"

Xaden's jaw ticks. "Cat's not Elysande."

"No," I snarl. "Cat's happily throwing herself into the cage, because she's lusting over that crown you might not even claim. I'm not talking about Cat, you idiot."

His hands start to glow, energy bleeding out in slow, pulsing waves. The room dims, shadows curling inward, folding tight around us. And gods help me, I'm half-tempted to test Cuir's theory, reach out and see if I can temper that current I've just started noticing. That flow I've become hyperaware of. It hums beneath my skin now, every time a rider taps into their signet.

But before Xaden can launch into another tired excuse—It's my duty as heir, you wouldn't understand, I was raised for this, Elysande too, you had choices—there's another buzz of energy in the air. Garrick appears mid-stride, wild-eyed and rumpled and grinning like the devil. His hair is a windblown mess, jacket crooked, cheeks flushed. 

"Okay," he declares, breathless and triumphant, taking a seat on Xaden's bed, "I am officially a distance-wielding legend—because I was holding her, thinking of her bed, which I'd never even seen, and somehow we landed right on top of it. Nailed it."

He doesn't notice me at first. He's too busy shaking out one boot, muttering, "Also, you owe me hazard pay. Little El nearly broke me tonight. She's a fucking menace and apparently has combat training with a rope dart, which feels weirdly specific and wildly arousing."

Then he looks up. Sees Xaden's judgemental eyebrow. Sees me.

The grin fades. Instantly. The shift is total. A masterclass in regret.

"Oh… shit."

I don't move. I don't blink. The air has gone still, brittle as ice. Garrick's eyes flick between us: me, frozen, standing too stiff beside Xaden's desk, and Xaden, who now looks like he's about to pop a vein.

"You were with her," I say. Not a question.

Garrick's mouth opens. Closes. He holds up his hands, palms out like I'm a wild thing ready to strike. "Hey. Bodhi. Nothing happened."

I step forward once. My heart is a drumbeat I can't silence.

"You teleported her to her bed?" I don't like my tone, but can't seem to be able to rein it in. Because, if he did…

Across from me, Garrick shifts, visibly calculating how fast he'd have to move to dodge a blade if I drew it.

"You showed her your second signet?" Xaden's voice cuts my spiralling thoughts. "Seriously, Garrick?"

Garrick winces. "Yeah, well… she was kind of melting down in the middle of the woods and refusing to go near that cabin, which—" he looks straight at me. "—is a shrine to emotional scarring. So I improvised."

Xaden slams the ledger shut. "You improvised by revealing a classified ability?"

"She was shivering, and soaked—" Garrick starts, running a hand through his wrecked curls, "—and I figured if she gets caught and interrogated, my second signet would be the least of our problems. Also," he mutters, glaring at Xaden, "what did you expect me to do? Leave her alone like that in the middle of the fucking woods? I'm not a monster."

"She was soaked?"

My voice cracks. Shatters through the room like glass underfoot. I don't mean for it to sound so raw—so fragile—but it slips out anyway, torn from somewhere just behind my ribs.

Garrick's eyes flick to me. "She jumped in a lake. Fully clothed. It's kind of a good news, bad news situation."

I stare at him. At the way his smirk's vanished. At the faint flush still clinging to his cheekbones.

I can't breathe.

"She…" I can't finish it. My throat's closing. "What the fuck, Garrick?"

Garrick raises both hands like he's bracing for impact. "You want the good news first or the bad?"

I don't answer. Can't. I'm too busy drowning on dry land.

He doesn't wait.

"Good news? Halden hasn't touched your girlfriend."

My stomach flips. Not with relief. With dread. Because of the way he said yet, without even saying it.

"Bad news?" Garrick's voice softens, like that'll make any of it easier. "She wants him to."

I stagger. Visibly. I feel it echo in my bones.

Garrick doesn't stop.

"And she's also being force-fed some kind of fertility tonic. Apparently, it's the only thing she's taking in lately. Because she's stopped eating. Again. I can't believe I missed it."

"She stopped eating…" My mouth is bone dry. We all know what that means for Elysande. How fast this could spiral. "What's a fertility tonic?"

"Funny you should ask," he says, voice high with faux cheer.

Xaden waves a dismissive hand at me, "You don't want to know."

But I do. Gods help me, I do.

"Garrick," Xaden cuts him before he starts explaining, "you saw her when she was—?"

"—fucking glowing, yeah," Garrick interrupts, running a hand down his face like he's still recovering. "And I told her no." He points at himself, chest puffed. "Achievement unlocked. Then I tucked her into her bed like the godsdamned gentleman I am. Frankly, I deserve a medal. And a raise. For whatever absurd salary package you're cooking up for me once you steal back Tyrrendor." He pauses, then adds under his breath, "Fucking menace that girl."

I'm beginning to piece together what that fertility tonic might be, and I don't like it one bit.

I want to punch a wall. I want to scream. I want to fly straight to Calldyr and take her. Bring her to Aretia. To somewhere she could feel safe.

Cuir's voice slices into my mind like a blade dipped in ice.

"Don't drag me into half-formed plans that risk your life for sentiment." The words land hard. Disdain, coiled and quiet. "And don't assume I'll just carry someone on my back like a horse. Besides… Aretia's not safe for her. You're the one who said she was better off spending her life behind Navarre's wards."

My knees nearly buckle from the weight of the truth and his disappointment. 

"But you would, right?" I ask through the bond. A little desperate. Not too proud. "If it comes to it?"

Cuir doesn't answer right away. He lets the silence settle between us. In the background, I catch Garrick roasting Halden—something about impeccable timing and royal stupidity—but it barely registers.

"Not for any human," Cuir admits, deliberate and cold.

I swallow hard. My chest feels so fucking hollow. "Her?" I whisper across the bond, already bracing for more judgement.

But the tone shifts. "Yes." It's quiet. Reverent. "She'll make a remarkable rider."

It nearly undoes me. The breath I draw next trembles with the weight of it. From the few weeks I've known Cuir, I know he doesn't offer praise lightly. Doesn't speak of anyone that way. 

Except himself. Definitely not me.

Cuir's voice hums again, low and smug."You're right. I should praise you more. It would be like praising myself for having chosen right."A pause. Just long enough for the now familiar arrogance to bloom."Which I did."

My lips twitch, even as my eyes burn.

"But your ego’s already big enough. First in your year to channel, fastest in history to manifest a signet. Are we ready to finally let the rest of the class in on your little secret, or still playing mysterious prodigy?"

He knows my answer.

"I know. I just want to be sure your answer hasn't changed with this new development, considering this is exactly the kind of information that might end up on the Ice Prince's desk. And we both know his desk is watched like a dragon hoard. Might be a good time to remind her of your existence."

"My answer is still the same as this morning," I mutter through the bond, biting down the heat crawling up my throat.

"And it still doesn't make any sense," he fires back instantly.

"Still," I whisper, the word dragging like regret, "I'd rather be second. First ones get too much attention."

"Bodhi? You alright?" Garrick's voice slips in, low and careful. I blink, realise I've been standing there too long, eyes shut, breathing uneven.

"I swear, it was just the tonic. Made her… I don't know, burn or something." Burn? I blink, is he talking metaphorically, or is her fire back? "And yeah, I probably earned a punch or two for the way I ran my mouth. But it was too easy to rile her up and—"

He hesitates.

"You know I'd never cross that line."

My jaw tightens. The air feels too thin, the room too small.

"I know you wouldn't," I mutter. "And I don't care. She can do whatever the fuck she wants. With whoever." And I mean it. I do.

She's not mine. I ended it. I don't own her.

I remind myself again, harder: I don't own her.

"Right. Clearly. Unbothered." Xaden's mouth curve in that infuriating smirk.

"Oh, good to know," Garrick drawls, " then I won't feel bad next time she short-circuits because I gave her a command in that growly Bodhi voice. I mean, someone conditioned her to respond to—"

"You're looking at me like I'm the solution to a problem I really want to help with. And, El, if things were different, I'd volunteer in a heartbeat. You're a godsdamned twenty, and I have a serious weakness for women who own their hunger without apology. But you're high on some weird-ass tonic that's clearly hijacked your common sense. You can't give proper consent to any of the absolutely terrible ideas I shouldn't have. And for fuck's sake you're Bodhi's ex. Xaden's little sister. Also—married. So please, for both our sanities, stop looking at me like that and let me get some blood back into my brain."

"Okay, okay," I bite the inside of my cheek as I drag my feet over to Storm, grabbing my coat back. "No more looking. I'll stare at that tree over there instead." I squint at a pine trunk like it holds the answers to my soul.

"But for the record," I purr, draping my coat over one shoulder, "I'm not technically married and, when someone earns it, I'm capable of extremely enthusiastic gratitude. The kind that starts on my knees and include tongue."

His groan could level kingdoms. "Not fair, El. Not even remotely fair."

I lean against Storm, clutching the reins just tight enough to not reach for Garrick instead. "I said I'd stop looking."

"Yeah, well. Then you opened your mouth and made it worse."

I dare a glance back. He's flushed. Neck pink, ears red, eyes wild. Pretty sure his leathers grew a size smaller. And I'd laugh if I wasn't vibrating in my boots.

"I'm beginning to understand," he growls, jabbing a finger in my general direction, "why Bodhi walks around like someone ripped out half his soul. And why Halden, fucking Halden, probably saw what was coming and bolted like the poor bastard he is."

"You're saying I'm terrifying?"

"I'm saying you're dangerous," he snaps, then winces. "No, not like that, not in a bad way. Just…fuck. El, you're the kind of trouble they write songs about. Cautionary songs. With people not being able to walk straight for days."