#jonalotweek21

Zero glanced back and forth as the bickering continued, Jonah getting dragged in a moment later when Kyle called out that Jonah hadn’t show any signs of aging as well. When he launched into a description of his full routine, Zero’s eyes flickered over to meet Lancelot’s, who only smiled before going back to his dinner.

“Spare us the details!” Kyle cried out partway through, covering his ears. “Edgar, doesn’t this tick you off?”

“Oh? You can’t ignore what Jonah’s saying any time? I thought we all had that ability to let it go in one ear and out the other…”

“Edgar!” Scandalized, Jonah stood from the table, pointing accusingly at him. “How dare you! I can’t believe you would say something so rude toward your superior officer—!”

“Uh, Jonah?” Zero raised his hand slightly to get his Queen’s attention. “I don’t think he’s listening to you if he just said that…”

Before Jonah could launch on another tirade, Lancelot glanced at him and said, “Sit down and finish eating, Jonah. You don’t need to give into their desire to create a little commotion around here.”

Frowning, Jonah sat back down, picking up his utensils once more. “As you wish, Lancelot.”

The rest of dinner passed in relative peace – but not quiet – and Lancelot and Jonah retired to their shared chambers afterward. Jonah watched as Lancelot sat at the vanity and undid the short ponytail at the back of his head, letting his hair fall about his shoulders.

“Your father had shorter hair when he was King and had a beard,” Jonah commented as he came up behind Lancelot, wrapping his arms about him and meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Are you really matching him when you look like this? You look like your former namesake.”

Lancelot laughed softly, tilting his head back to look at Jonah. “You just don’t like this change. That’s no reason to call me a beast.”

“I never said I disliked it! I just think you… look better without the beard.”

“And I like when you push your bangs back, but you don’t see me clamoring for that.” As he spoke, Lancelot did just that – fingers gently brushing Jonah’s hair back from his forehead before pulling him down into a kiss. The awkward angle meant that the first kiss did not last very long, Jonah’s nose scrunching when his cheek brushed against the beard, but as Lancelot turned on the stool and kissed him proper, Jonah found himself sinking into the kiss nonetheless.

“I would brush them back if it pleased you,” Jonah muttered as they finally parted.

Please tag your entries with #jonalotweek or #jonalotweek21 within the first five tags and mention @jonalotweek.

All types of fan content are accepted (fanart, fanfiction, headcanons, edits, videos, etc). Any use of someone else’s work in your entry (in edits and such) must be with the original creator’s express permission and clearly credited in your work.

All prompts are open to interpretation, you are free to submit whatever you can think of based on it, just remember to label what day your submission is for.

If your entry has not been reblogged within 24 hours of posting, feel free to send in a message with a link to it as I might have missed it.

NSFW is allowed but MUST be labelled accordingly and placed under the cut.

The blog will be tagging NSFW reblogs/submissions with #jonalotweeknsfw so feel free to use that tag yourself if you want.

Works that might deal with darker themes should be tagged properly with their appropriate trigger warnings.

Don’t worry about being late! Any late entries will still be happily accepted.

Other ships are allowed to be featured in your entries but do remember to keep Jonalot the main focus! (It’s what Jonah would demand want.)

If you have any questions, feel free to send an ask here!

“Compared to what? And this is rather out of the blue. Where did the urge to call me something like that come from?”

The follow-up seemed to be the wrong response, as Lancelot shut his lips again and did not speak for several moments as he tucked in his shirt and shrugged his jacket on. But as he buttoned it up and attached the golden pin and chain to his lapel, he answered:

“Because Sirius has one for his significant other.”

“So why do I need one?”

Lancelot mulled on that for a moment more. Jonah found himself impressed at the apparent dedication and thought Lancelot had been putting toward this topic – briefly wondering how long it had been eating at him for.

“Because we work so closely together when we are working as the King and Queen of Hearts,” Lancelot finally said, his tone firm and assured. “But after work, I want to convey my love to you in a manner separate from work. So because I have always called you by your name, I feel as if I should use something else when we are not busy managing the army. The mere use of your name is not enough for me, I believe. Not anymore.”

Jonah only stared, the brush in his hand long forgotten as Lancelot stepped down, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Jonah’s head.

“I do not expect you to call me anything in return, but I would like to ask that you allow me this one small pleasure, beloved.”

The name came again, dropped at the end of a sentence with an affectionate touch. Upon hearing it in such a way, Jonah knew then he was powerless against it.

“I would never want to deny you anything, my King,” Jonah responded, standing from the stool and pressing a kiss to Lancelot’s cheek. “Besides, I could get used to it, in time! You never know.”

Lancelot smiled, moving to kiss Jonah proper as his hand took the brush from Jonah’s fingers. “And I appreciate you very much for saying so. Now, sit back down. I want to try to do your hair again.”

“Huh? Again? But you did it yesterday! I can’t ask you to do it again, Lancelot!”

“I want to.”

Such a simple response was given with no room to refuse or deny, so Jonah huffed and sat back down again. “Just don’t tug too hard.”

Jonah had been proud of his accomplishments about befriending Prince Lancelot at the party a little over a month ago. He spared his parents the more pitiful details and intentionally picked out a longer sleeved shirt to hide the bruises on his arms.

So, you should not cling to the Kingsley heir so much. It’s unsightly.

But while his parents had first been full of praise at the sudden friendship, thankful whenever Lancelot offered to spend time with Jonah when he came to headquarters, they now treated it with a distasteful scorn.

You shouldn’t have to depend on him for protection and curry favor by groveling at his side.

Jonah never saw it that way, but he figured that if his father said it, it must be true.

…

Their conversation had taken place in the carriage as they rode to Red Headquarters for work. Jonah had been brought specifically at Prince Lancelot’s request, which thrilled him to the core. He kept that feeling locked down, not letting it show as they drew closer to the white and red building. I’ll have to remember to ask Prince Lancelot if he can ask to invite Luka next time, too.

These get-togethers had become a regular affair as Jonah came to observe his father during some of his less intensive duties. Lancelot had already started doing the same two years ago, and was brimming with advice for the future Queen of Hearts.

It was a slight opposition to the demeanor Prince Lancelot had showed at the party. There, he shone with regal confidence, telling off the bullies and protecting Jonah in the same swift, decisive maneuver.

Behind closed doors and over a luncheon or tea break, he spoke at length about all sorts of topics that initially had Jonah’s head swimming. Politics, agriculture, economics, and battle tactics were all fair game. And the future Queen had been doing his best to keep up – and thought he was doing a rather fine job of it.

The conversation he and his father had in the carriage only proved to make him all the more grateful that he was studying so hard.

…

And so, he brought that confidence and pride in with him, recounting his father’s speech to Lancelot. He parroted his father perfectly, even standing from his chair and standing tall for emphasis.

But after he had finished, Lancelot tilted his head to the side, appearing confused.

“What’s the matter, Prince Lancelot?” Jonah asked, smiling to keep the concern out of his tone.

“Why… should you protect me?” Lancelot asked slowly, sounding genuinely curious.

“What? Isn’t it obvious? Because I should be your last line of defense! Father says that we should be ready to give up our lives if it means protecting the King we serve!”

Lancelot set down his teacup then, looking up at Jonah. “That sounds backwards. The King’s duty is to protect his people.”

Jonah’s eyes widened then. “W-What?”

“Let’s look at this way.” Lancelot held up two fingers. “I had two options the night I saw you being bullied. The first is as your father says – that you should protect me. In that case, I would hold back and evaluate your strength for myself to see if you are capable of protecting me.”

“Which sounds fine.”

“But I do not think that is the correct answer,” Lancelot said, choosing his words slowly. “I know I made the right choice protecting you. A King should be sure of his ability to protect his people, and that includes those closest to him, such as his Queen. I would rather see you fight at my side than throw your life away to protect me, Jonah.”

At that, Jonah was at a loss for words.

As his mind kicked and struggled, he was briefly struck with a bout of inadequacy – ignoring his youth, sneering at himself for not being good enough.

But once again, his King protected him.

“You are fine just as you are, Jonah. And I’m looking forward to helping Cradle move forward together.”

Lance Windsor, the eldest son of a transportation company that spanned across Cradle, was set to inherit the business when his mother retired. A fine train system ran around each territory and deeper into the mountains, where tunnels had been crafted into the rock to ensure nobody had to either climb the mountains to traverse the formerly dangerous forests to the south to travel to other countries.

Because he had finished his schooling, it was time for him to take over a small portion of the business, which meant hiring an assistant. His father, a Black Territory citizen, had instructed him on how to find the good and hardworking in those he interviewed. They had narrowed it down to five impressive candidates, but Lance still was not sure if he could choose just one.

But the last candidate impressed him the most of them all. Jonah Labelle, a citizen from a Central family. He had come with glowing recommendations from all previous employers and his schooling. Lance recalled him from a couple years behind in the business program at the Cradle Institute’s University Division.

He really made waves, and it shows. Lance’s thoughts on Jonah never once wavered throughout the entire interview. The man answered with pose, refinement, and a becoming confidence that suited his attire and looks. All candidates had come prepared, but treated Lance as a stepping stone in their quest to achieve a higher position in the company later.

Jonah promised a more lasting relationship. So, Lance asked him directly.

“Do you believe you are prepared to inherit the role of right hand in this company? Understand that it will not come for some time, and that you may be stuck working with me for some time in a bit of an understated manner.”

“There is nothing I would wish for more,” Jonah answered, his first swift answer – a stark contrast to all others that he had given some thought to. “Ever since hearing about you at the university and seeing you at work in an internship, I have known that I would like to work at your side and help this company grow for the next generation. I want to work for you and the company, not just the company itself.”

The answer surprised Lance, but he did not let it show. Instead, he took the answer in stride with a polite smile.

“Then you are the most qualified to take on the position. Welcome aboard, Jonah Labelle.”

Jonah’s face lit up then, triumphant and proud – before he caught himself and gave a little cough as he stood from the table and bowed. “Thank you, Mr. Windsor! I look forward to working with you!”

“As do I – but, something to note now. Just Lance is fine for me.”

“… Mr. Lance, then. Thank you again.”

“Of course. I am sure that we will work well together.”  

…

(But of course, neither knew the true meaning of their words and meeting. And that, despite the odds, the two had found each other, in a happier time.)

…

Jonah left the party that was in full swing in favor of stepping into a quiet carpeted hallway, where he had caught a flash of blond hair when Lance had escaped a few minutes prior. His love of two years now stood at the end of the hall, staring out a window over the vast expanse of Cradle.

Several parties together later and you still insist on escaping, Jonah thought with a smile as he came up behind Lance, winding an arm through his. “Hello, Lance.”

He jumped at the act, before relaxing as he saw Jonah’s face. “Hello. Apologies, have I been out too long?”

“No, not at all. I thought I would just come out with you this time. Spend some time together.”

“Well, you just missed a shooting star earlier.”

“Really? Then I hope you made a good wish for the both of us!”

Lance wrapped his arm about Jonah’s waist, tugging him closer. “I wished that we would meet again in the future and fall in love all over again. That we are soulmates who can never be parted.”

Jonah eyes glittered brightly at that, a smile rising to his features. “That sounds like a wonderful concept. I hope it comes true, because I don’t think you would take care of yourself if I wasn’t there!”

“Then I hope you are there to care for me, as you perhaps always have been.”

Jonah made a face at that. “… Well, I’d like you take care of me at least once if we come back. I shouldn’t always have to do the work!”

“You say that like I do not care for you now,” Lance said with a laugh, moving a little closer, lips nearly touching. “Should I do more?”

I have to keep them safe, even if that means refusing to speak with them outright. That is the most assured way to keep them out of harm’s way, Lancelot promised himself one evening, striding back toward his office. He had just attended a dinner meeting with the Jack of Hearts, Claudius Bright. His nephew, Edgar, was set to take the position soon enough, and a meeting over food was necessary given the hour. With official business out of the way, more could follow.

But when Lancelot got back to his office, he found the door slightly ajar. Tensing up, he readied a bout of magic in his fingertips, ready to strike should the occasion call for it. Pushing the door open gently, crimson eyes examined the solitary office.

There were no lurking hooded figures or intruders in sight. Instead, Jonah, the new Queen of Hearts and Lancelot’s right hand, had his arms crossed atop the desk. His head was cradled in his arms, and it appeared as if he had fallen asleep.

Oh. Lancelot dropped his defenses, gently shutting the door behind him. A lone crystal on the desk illuminated the space, the remainder of the room dark. It’s no wonder you fell asleep, he thought with a smile as he approached. The glow from the crystal was a warm orange, a testament to the progress made in magic – the previous ones had all burned blue – and it perfectly enunciated Jonah’s features.

As he stood beside the desk, Lancelot could not resist staring for a moment or two. A few papers were settled to one side, a summary of notes next to them. Other papers that did not require Lancelot’s signature were already finished. The pen had rolled onto the floor some time ago.

Jonah’s hair danced slightly with each gentle breath. His features, normally either a scowl or a glare, were softened by sleep. Lancelot had long ago accepted that Jonah was handsome – but in this moment, he appeared more beautiful than anything else.

You mentioned Harr and Sirius in your threats, Amon, Lancelot mused, resisting the urge to reach out and rest a hand on Jonah’s arm or stroke his hair, but you neglected to mention my oldest ally. But perhaps that is a good thing. Because Jonah is the one who believes in our dreams. So…

Lancelot finally reached out then, gingerly touching Jonah’s shoulder.

… Even if I die and leave him alone, then I am reassured that he will continue the legacy I leave behind. Even if that means…

“… King Lancelot? Oh!” Jonah snapped to attention, standing from the desk and bowing with shame. “Forgive me! Did you see if I was drool— I mean, I didn’t appear unkempt, did I?”

“You are fine, Jonah. All is well.” The smile Lancelot gave at the sight of Jonah’s embarrassed blush had his Queen smiling for only a moment before he bowed again and apologized his behavior.

“You did more than just take me out to dinner,” Jonah said. “You insisted we get dinner, then walk around the streets to visit my favorite shops, then got dessert at a café that is reservations only! It was only things I liked.” Pouting, he looked up at Lancelot, the unspoken words clear in his gaze: was there anything you wanted to do?

“And what I enjoy most is spending time with you. Especially since you have been waking up before I can see you. I fully expect you to stay in bed tomorrow morning.”

Jonah smiled, leaning against Lancelot’s shoulder. “I promise. I’ve missed seeing you, too. But I also know you have been skipping breakfast, so in return, I better see you in the dining hall in the morning.”

“I promise in return.”

The two walked in content silence for a little while after that, heading towards the carriage they had left on the outskirts of Central. Lancelot’s thoughts wandered as they did so, thinking back on the past five years and on their future.

The stars above their head made him think of how much time they had together, but how little they had in the grand scheme of the world around them. Their work now – dedicated to ensuring Cradle’s long future by strengthening ties with the Black Army, clearing out the Magic Tower, and connecting with other nations across the sea – would lay the groundwork for future generations.

In that moment, the future seemed so impossibly far away and close all at once. Instinctively tightening his grip on Jonah’s arm, Lancelot let out a heavy sigh.

What is the future Cradle will face? And how will we be remembered in its history? I only wish that we will be remembered in a more positive time for starting these peace talks and for moving Cradle into a new era? What will this land look like then? How will Jonah and I—

A squeeze on his wrist caused Lancelot to come out of his thoughts and look to Jonah, who was giving him a concerned gaze. “What’s on your mind, Lancelot?”

“… Nothing that should worry you,” he murmured, pausing in his stride. “I am merely thinking of the future we are working towards, and beyond that. And if our love will be remembered.”

“If you make it so, then it should stay,” Jonah scoffed. “In all our history books and on your texts.”

Lancelot smiled gently, leaning down to press a kiss to Jonah’s cheek. “Then I hope it will. And that whether it does or doesn’t, that we will meet again in the future and fall in love all over again. That we are soulmates who can never be parted.”

Jonah lifted himself up, returning the kiss to Lancelot’s lips. “That sounds like a wonderful concept. I hope it comes true, because I don’t think you would take care of yourself if I wasn’t there!”

…

“The spell cursed the prince to ‘eternal isolation.’ The prince lost the ability to hear people speak. And soon, he lost the ability to speak himself.”

The week had passed uneventful. Lancelot had deigned himself to speak less and less as of late, his voice having grown hoarse sometime the previous evening. Afraid he was coming down with a cold on top of the current curse, advisors instructed him to go to sleep early.

Jonah was the first at his door the next morning, wanting to know if his prince had slept through the night and was as sick as he appeared to be last night. He knocked on the door to Lancelot’s chambers. “Prince Lancelot, are you there?”

No response followed, leading Jonah to assume that Lancelot was either still asleep or had left for an early bout of training. The latter, not being all that uncommon, caused Jonah to turn on his heel.

Then, there was a furious smashing sound from inside the room. Turning back, Jonah shoved the door open. “Prince Lancelot!”

A vase lay in pieces on the rug, Lancelot breathing heavily. As he looked to Jonah in horror, his mouth moved wordlessly. The syllables his lips formed did not come forth, but he could just make out the apology Lancelot was trying to provide.

“Your… your voice.” Realization pitched Jonah’s tone as he rushed forward, gripping Lancelot by his shoulders. “He took your voice too?”

Lancelot only stared down at Jonah silently, his features crumbling. Others rushed into the room a moment later at the commotion, but the Red Prince did not cry or mourn. He only stared at the floor and held Jonah in a tight grip, not moving for several minutes.

…

“The prince closed his heart to the world, making him truly alone. The greatest doctors and scholars in the land tried to break the curse, but they all failed.”

The king summoned all in the land to examine his son in an attempt to find a cure. From doctors to scholars to wizards, some of the most intelligent and skillful people in all the land had done their part to find a cure for the young prince.

None had succeeded. So still Jonah worked alongside his prince in silence, never speaking. The act was futile for the most part, as Lancelot still had difficulty reading lips and far preferred to keep to himself. In the early days, they filled three diaries with their exchanges, Jonah often speaking for Lancelot at important meetings or for requests.

But these exchanges took a rapid decline as Lancelot continued to shut himself off from the world, closing further and further in on himself. In time, he even closed his heart to Jonah, refusing to speak in their newfound manner.

All his attention turned inward, and it was clear to Jonah that Lancelot was planning something based on his burst of practice and research.

He just didn’t know how to stop it.

…

“’There’s no point in living like this,’ thought the prince. ‘But if I’m to die, I will do it protecting my people.’”

“And so, the prince went after the enemy that was trying to destroy his kingdom – alone. He ran faster than an arrow shot from a bow.”

A cabinet clattered to the floor behind him. Lancelot knew he could only use small bursts of magic to deter the soldiers that pursued him, having to conserve it. If he wasted too much of his energy now trying to escape, he would be out of magic by the time he reached the sorcerer on the outskirts of their nation.

So instead, he kept up his pace, this time destroying a crystal lamp overhead as pursuers rounded the corner before him. As the corridor was plunged into darkness, he darted down another hallway, thankful this one would still lead him toward the stables. Unable to teleport, it was his fastest way out.

He glanced back over his shoulder, assured that nobody was following him before still picking up the pace. A sword bounced against his hip while a large bag of crystals was slung over a shoulder. The less I must depend on my own magic, the better. If I can weaken that damned sorcerer, then attack at the final moment with all my magic…

He hastened his pace still further, breaking into the cold night air. Magically slamming and locking the door shut behind him, Lancelot ran across the empty field toward the stables.

… Then he will die, and I can escape this isolation.

…

“He was resolved to die. But a young man reached out and grabbed him by the arm.”

But before Lancelot could reach the stables, his arm was seized. He retaliated without hesitating, a blast of magic singing the grass and causing the person to scramble away.  

However, when Lancelot turned his head, he was struck by the sight of Jonah standing before him. His chest heaved as he apparently caught his breath, having most likely still run after him.

But before Lancelot could reach for the sword at his hip, Jonah lunged forward, shoving him to the ground in one swift shove. Seizing Lancelot by the collar, he shook him furiously, his lips moving without being heard.

…

“He tried frantically to tell the prince something, but he could not hear his voice.”

“Don’t you know how important your life is?” Jonah cried out, shaking Lancelot by the collar. “Your life matters to this entire nation! The entire army was in an uproar because we refuse to let you do this alone! Just because you were cursed with eternal isolation doesn’t mean you have to leave the rest of us alone! I didn’t think you would dare leave me alone in a world without you!”

Yet Lancelot only looked back up at him with a placid gaze, unable to hear a word.

“Fine then!” Jonah finally dropped Lancelot to the ground, scanning the garden. “Then this should make you understand!”

He ran over to a nearby rosebush, wincing as he closed his hand around a thorny stem. Yet he endured the pain to pluck it from the bush and held it out toward Lancelot.

He did not try to speak. All he wanted to convey was in his expression, earnest and firm as he took two confident steps toward his Prince. Lancelot stared at Jonah’s features, frowning for only a moment until he understood.

…

“Furrowing his brow in desperation, he picked a single white rose from a nearby bush. He held it out earnestly to the prince. The moment the prince saw the rose…”

… There was a brilliant flash of light. And in a moment, all the sound of the world returned. Lancelot dropped all in his arms at the sensation.

The wind was the first thing he heard. He had felt it for so long through open windows and when traveling, but it rustled the trees and grass. There were the sounds of alarm bells ringing in the distance, of shouting men.

Of Jonah before him, holding out the white rose.

“Don’t you know the meaning of a white rose?” He recalled Jonah asking once, a long time ago as he decorated Lancelot’s desk with them. “They mean… Well, you should look it up yourself! It would be a good side project for you.”

He had, but only during his moments spent locked up in his room. It showed in every way now. In the rosy blush on Jonah’s cheeks. The devotion and care and concern shining in those golden eyes. The way his hands trembled as Lancelot opened his mouth to speak, to say, to promise, in a hoarse voice gone unused for so long –

“Jonah, you are the only one for me.”

…

“The prince was himself once more. He raised his voice and joined with his people to fight. He led them to victory and brought peace and happiness to the kingdom.”

…

It was then that Jonah awoke. His eyes flickered open as he caught sight of a maid tugging his curtains open, the morning light enough to rouse him from his dream. Lifting himself up onto one elbow, he rubbed at his eyes and stifled an unkempt yawn.

“Good morning, Mr. Jonah,” she said with a slight curtsy before exiting the room. He said nothing in return, only looking around his room until his eyes fell on the old picture book tucked between the other more impressive volumes on his shelf. He recalled the story from his dreams – aptly titled The White Rose – and how often he had read that particular story to Luka.

Did I dream of that tale because Luka’s just run off to the Black Army? Or because I…

Shoving the other thought away, Jonah worked to ignore the recent acknowledgement of his budding feelings toward Lancelot, which had occupied him in idle moments as of late.