#macedonking

*You’ll Be Back playing loudly in the background.*

Bandits. They were attacking Macedon's boarder once again. She thought she could handle them herself, but a miscalculation made matters much worse. Much worse.

"Michalis!"

Never in a million years had she thought she would have shouted her brother's name.

Never had she thought she'd scream her brother's name in absolute anguish.

She watched as a sword pierce his chest, her eyes widening realizing his actions. He wasn't supposed to be dead.

I was supposed to be killed.

A bandit originally planned to ambush her and yet... He took the blow. He wasn't supposed to be here. Why was he here? With the quick slash of her lance, she defeated the bandit, almost falling to her knees with only her lance supporting her. As much as she did not want to, she looked back at what was left of her brother...

Michalis...!

"You fool... You complete fool!"  Minerva shoved the spear to the side. Using what was left of her strength, she limped towards her brother's corpse.  

She knelt down next to her brother, carefully, she lifted her brother's hand. Pressing on the palm, she could feel the warmth slowly drain away like a sunset dissolving as the cold winter night settled in. Nothingness. There was nothing left of her brother. Only but a corpse and a blade covered with his crimson blood.

"Why...? Why...!"  

She could not hold in her heart break, her eyes weeping with nothing but pain and becoming a disheveled mess. Dropping her brother's hand only to bend forward and cry upon his corpse.

This was a mistake. I wasn't good enough. I should have done more. I failed Maria...

Thoughts of self-doubt only clouded her mind; how could she face her dear sister and tell her the news of their brother? Even at the current moment, she couldn't even handle it herself.

There was no war. There was no fight between them. All she wished to do was to protect her family and become her brother's sibling again.

☹Something that makes yourmuse sad/upset

Feeling inadequate. Being a commonerin the company of nobles, it is often difficult for Forsyth to feel like he‘fits in’ – and given the reaction to his efforts, he suspects he sometimes goes a little toofar in his desire to please. A harsh, derogatory word from Fernand or an act ofcourage from one of the nobles (see his reaction to Lukas’ speech at the Siegeof Zofia Castle) makes him doubt himself, at least for a moment.

Wyverns and Nils tended to get along rather well. Probably because of the common draconic ancestry. It wasn’t often that wyverns didn’t care for the boy, and even less often that they were aggressive towards him. Which is why he was able to approach a (rather pampered looking) wyvern and curl up to take a nap with him.

◈  ...Well this fellow looked to be a straight up product of Norh, though there were key differences to note; still remarkably uncanny attributes from the Norh Princess Camilla.. and unfortunately anyone riding a Wyvern was not met with the most friendly of atmospheres from the Pegasus knight.

“Sir, you’ll excuse me in inquiring if you have business on Hoshidan soil, or am I going to have to potentially call for my fleet?”

                                                                  color headcanons! [ x ]

raspberry: what food and / or drink can your muse not get enough of? do they indulge in it often, or is it something reserved for special occasions?

not a specific food, but leif really likes spicy things. i’ve probably mentioned this before, but thracian cuisine makes everything else tasteless – there’s a lot of spice and flavor and sauce and seasoning in everything. he definitely brings his own equivalent of a bottle of sriracha and shaker of pepper flakes when he visits other places, and will heap it on food ( even stuff it doesn’t go on ) if it’s socially acceptable to do so 

other than that, he doesn’t really have a favorite food that he can’t get enough of. he’s spent most of his life eating very simple fare, to the point where the fancy meals of being a king themselves are still a novelty.

coral: what are your muse’s romantic and sexual orientations?

he is attracted to both sexes and is essentially both panromantic and pansexual in that he takes character into account first and the individual’s sex or gender identity is sort of an afterthought consideration. like “i’m really attracted to this person because of x” and then “oh wait they’re a guy”.

in practice, he has a much stronger inclination for girls and is much quicker to acknowledge his attraction to them than to boys. to what extent that’s inborn and to what extent it’s socially influenced is dubious because he’s been in the shadow of finn’s homophobia and toxic masculinity for eighteen years. most of his heartthrobs in life have been girls – except for one, who, unfortunately, also happens to be the strongest to date.

macedonking: 

It had been a good evening so far, and Michalis was more so concerned for Maria’s safety (after him learning about her travels the last time they’d accidentally met), than actually spending time with her. Even though he knew that he was being cruel with deliberately not spending time with her. (Which had been slowly improving, the more he let himself come to terms with everything that had happened.)

He feels his presence before he hears Maria utter her startled words, feels the hand that he’d been holding so tightly go taught as he catches her almost fall. Michalis can feel a stabbing pain as he frantically searched for whatever specter Maria claimed to see’; the fact that Osmond’s kind face hadn’t changed in the slightest since the last time he saw it contorted with pain made Michalis, for once, want to run away.

“No. No.” Michalis says at once, turning on his heel and attempting to drag Maria with him. “Maria. WE’RE LEAVING.”

For once, even Michalis’ words can’t seem to reach her; in the back of her mind, she knows there is a sound-- knows that she’s stumbling backwards as someone desperately tries to pull her away-- but all she can see is Osmond, and he smiles at her, and she remembers everything, all at once. How it felt to sit on his lap as he read her stories, the way his voice rumbled as he spoke, how warm he was as he carried her back to bed. 

“Papa!” She cries out, and her voice breaks as she lurches forward. Vaguely, she thinks that her eyes sting, but it hardly matters as she hits the ground and snaps her head to look up again. She remembers this view, her father smiling down at her (she’d been so small; he was supposed to have seen her grow), and something in her chest wavers as he stretches his hand out to her.

Then she reaches for it, but there’s nothing for her to hold onto, and that something in her chest all falls apart.