#jaegerjaquezsexta

[ personal tumblr | ao3 account (coming soon) | drabble/oneshot request | message ]

bring it on you sack of shit

Some ugly fucker called Grimmjow, duh

The churches bells tolled as the city mourned the loss of their King. The black horses trotted through the streets with the open casket placed in the carriage so that the people could say their last respects before he was taken to the river. The pine casket had been painted black with a shiny finish to it, and beautiful hand carvings of leaves, horses and dragons sat upon the item. At each end, it curved upwards and curled under like a branch, and one had a large, unlit lantern on the hook. A horse as white as snow clad in black armour followed behind the King, seated upon it, his daughter. Sat sidesaddle, the princess adorned a black gown, studded with cream pearls and a veil to match covered her face. Although her poise remained stoic and un-moving, sadness was surrounding her like a cloud of thick smog. In two weeks time, the weight of the kingdom was about to be thrust onto her shoulders on her 18th birthday. Arriving at the edge of the river just outside of the city gates, the princess jumped from her horse and lifted the veil, facing the large crowd that had accumulated behind them. Putting on her best smile, she held the sides of her dress and did a small curtsy. "My father was a great man and a great King. How many of you that are here to show your respect proves that. Although I am not yet Queen, I will do my best to follow in his footsteps."  With another curtsy, Kyasarin pulled the veil back over her face, just in time. Behind her she could hear the clanking of her betrothed's armour. Stepping up next to her, Kyasarin grimaced, he smelled revolting. The scent of alcohol and blood hung around him, just like always. Fiddling with the admittedly beautiful ring on her finger, Kyasarin turned away and nodded to the soldiers, who then gently lifted the casket and placed it on the rivers edge. The princess walked over to her father and knelt down in the grass next to him and gently pulled a water lilly from the water to place it upon her father's sword that sat upon his chest. Leaning up, Kyasarin gently cupped her father's cheeks and placed a final kiss upon his wrinkled forehead, a single, glinting tear hitting his skin as she stood up. Bringing her arms up to the end of the casket, she gave it a gentle shove, and pushed it into the river, watching as the gentle currents began to carry her father away. Slowly the crowd began to disperse, and eventually the only people left was the princess, her guards. Even her fiance had left, no doubt to drink some more. However, she refused to move until the last of her father's boat to heaven, if it existed, could no longer be seen. Finally, the lantern gave a soft twinkle before disappearing out of sight. Breathing in deeply, Kyasarin turned her back and hoisted herself onto her horse, not waiting for her guards to follow, she knew that they would keep up, and she cantered back towards the city. Although she would like nothing more than to just swerve and head into the forest for a few months, she knew she held the responsibility to look after the city, someone had to keep the royal advisers in check until her coronation. Trotting into the courtyard, Kyasarin jumped from her steed once again, and thrust her reins to a guard on standby and lifted the bottom of her dress up, running up the massive stone steps to the front of her castle. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards the great hall where a feast was being held in her father's memory. When she stepped through the doors, the whole room when ghostly quiet, and Kyasarin furrowed her brows. "Do not stop celebrating my father's life because of my sorrow, please, drink to your own health and celebrate that you are still alive."  Not much else was said from the princess, minus a few thank yous to a few people who came up to her to aplogise for her loss. For most of the night, she simply sat at the head of the table, sipping from a single goblet of wine. However, when she was certain everyone was drunk enough to not notice her absence, she slipped away and headed to her room, removing her veil and slipping her hair from the ties that held it, if she'd kept it in any longer, she was certain that it was going to pull the hair from her scalp.  When she finally reached her room, she made sure to shut the door behind herself, and thrust herself onto her bed and hugged a pillow to her chest, crying desperately into it. Eventually the crying turned into gentle hiccups of sobs, and she slipped into a slumber, still hugging the pillow and without removing her mourning attire. 

"Is that a promise?" 

"I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING."