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cvlutos · 1 year

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HE WHO OWNS, THE COURT WINS IT ALL!!

✡︎ May.06.2023 | 6.0K| Commissioned by @pinkskybelle

✡︎ Vil S. | Rook H. | Male OC

✡︎ Synopsis: This is a time for all the rich nobles and bacheors gather for six months to find a love, to grow their name, to make a fourtune. So shall you play along.

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six |

ACT ONE

“We know what we are, but know not what we may be.” - Shakespeare

The Huntsman gently closes the book, leaning against the rough bark of the pine tree, basking in the few sun rays that gently touch his skin. Emerald eyes flutter closed as he lets out a low amused hum.

“Something will change. C’est assez excitant~”

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“Vil. You know I am quite disappointed.”

The tip of the fountain pen taps against the pristine white documents, each paper in some way tied to the never-ending business and work that’s conducted by the small Schoenheit Family, made up of the Head of the House, his new wife, and his two sons.

His eldest son, Vil Schoenheit, stands before him. Dressed in a simple button-up and slacks, his blonde hair in a low bun except for the purposeful loose strands that frame the sides of his face. Lilac eyes express nothing, as pink-painted lips press tightly together. The room was dimly lit with little light filtering in through the large violet window shades. A thick, dark oak desk was placed in the furthest part of the room, separating the two.

The silence between them grows more tense with each passing moment, as the head of the family lets out another annoyed sigh. Wishing to be occupied with signing papers alone, then having to deal with the son of his late ex-wife. The shadows prevent the head’s face from being seen, but Vil knows—his father has his always disappointed face engraved into his memory—he knows that his father is scowling. Like he always does. Scowling with disappointed eyes and disappointed lips.

The air, thick and cold—frigid upon Vil’s elegant skin, forcing him to remain present, then allowing his mind to wander to more savory things instead of listening to his father’s long lectures. The pen taps again, showing a bit of his father’s impatience, which is always short. Since Vil was a child, his father has never been patient. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

“I apologize,” Vil bows, placing a hand over his heart, “but there was not much else I could do. Time got away from me...”

The chair beneath his father creaks as he leans forward with a scoff, “The time got away? You—who is insistent upon keeping track of all things I do. Ready to undermine me at all chances.” Vil’s father lets out a tired sigh. “Just like your mother would, always trying to correct—” He speaks under his breath, placing his pen down, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yet time got away from you.”

The blonde brows of Vil’s face scrunch, his glossed lips pulling into a deep scowl, standing straight once again, his arms crossing. “Leave my mother out of this. You tormented her enough when she was here.”

“Do not get smart with me boy!” His father’s hand slams against his desk, creating a firm and echoing sound that seems to shake the very room, Vil bites back any words, watching the multitude of books, pens, pencils, and décor topple off the desk. Vil does nothing. Keeping his posture straight and unamused, eyes firm and staring. His father’s hands clenching and stretching, fixing his wedding band subconsciously, breathing heavily.

“Pick my things up, boy.” Vil’s father’s voice is firm, watching with glaring eyes as Vil’s shoulders drop, slowly sliding down and onto his knees and picking up the multiple objects and placing them back on his desk. Vil’s father proceeds to speak, staring down at his son.

“If time has gotten away from you—then you simply force my hand Vil.”

The chair creaks. His father rises from his seat and pulls out a black envelope with gold writing. He flicks the envelope from his hand, watching it flutter before landing on the wooden flooring, forcing Vil, on his knees, to reach for it, on all fours. Like a dog.

‘Vil Schoenheit’

Written in beautiful gold cursive, Vil recognizes exactly who the letter is from immediately having received a letter occasionally from the family. The Royal Draconia family. He rises to his feet, placing the objects back in place and returning where he stood. Looking over the letter in silence.

“Because I cannot trust you to act reasonably and properly, you will host this year’s courting season.” His father speaks again, straightening his hair and clothing. Vil’s gaze moves up to his father, scowling deeply.

“The courting season is in less than three months. Everyone has already made preparations for the Al-Asims to host. And I have talked to the head of the family, and he is more than happy to let you host.” Vil’s father sits back down, before waving his hand in a shooing motion, “Now go. I’m tired of looking at you.” Vil gives another curt bow, biting back any vile words that wished to escape his lips. Turning on his heel and walking out of his father’s office.

Closing the heavy oak door with a hard slam, keeping his displeased scowl, any servants were quick to move out of his way, keeping their heads low. He walks the lavish white halls quickly, steps muffled by the thick violet carpets, he holds the letter tightly. His huntsman appears beside him in stride, a small smile across his lips. Unbothered by Vil’s scowl and furrowed brows.

“Bon après-midi, mon Seigneur, pourquoi un air renfrogné orne-t-il le beau visage d’une personne?” Vil stops immediately in place, turning to his huntsman, holding up the envelope, and watching his personal guard nod in immediate understanding.

“He has not only forced me to my hands and knees like a dog but has also saddled me with preparing this year’s courting season. Even went so far as to ask the Draconia family, he has absolutely made a fool of me.” Vil’s voice is low, dripping with venom, before resuming his walk, his steps long and fast, his guard follows easily. Dressed casually in his familiar brown feathered hat upon his head.

“How would you like to begin planning?”

“Have letters sent out—Courting with take place at the Pomefiore Manor. I’ll have father regret ever forcing my hand.”

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“Master Robyn!”

The wind blows softly through the sunlit manor grounds, rustling the vibrant green grass and forest leaves as two figures crouch in the bushes, out of sight and view of the frantic middle-aged maid who was shouting for them. Trying to rush down the stone stairs, but also afraid to fall, leaving her to grip the ends of her black dress and white apron as she sidestepped down the steps. Swatting away at the two large dogs that yap and bark as they bound up and down the steps, messing with her as she tries to shoo them away.

There’s a handmade animal target made of hay and cloth that stands unmoving, placed in the very center of the grassy field. Something the maid is utterly oblivious to, as small hands grip the wooden bow, a hand-crafted gift made for the young brother of the Locksley house, with his name elegantly engraved along the handle.

“Ignore her.”

The master of the house’s voice is quiet, with a hint of playfulness as he tucks a strand of rose-red hair behind his ear, crouching low as he adjusts his brother’s aim. Once again, the maid shouts, which earns a snicker from the younger boy, as the Head of the house grins. Both the brothers are quite used to her panicked shouts, having grown to know the difference between her actual urgent calls and her simple faux panic that she at times sends herself into over the smallest changes.

“Do I shoot now, brother?” His brother’s voice is playful, glancing up at his brother with eager eyes, waiting for the release command. A moment passes before the eldest looks at his younger brother, giving a short nod.

“Shoot.”

The young brother does, the arrow zipping through the bushes and shooting straight into the fake deer’s neck, sending the puppet flying over. The maid shrieks in fear and surprise, nearly dropping whatever she was holding, as the dogs bark happily, rushing over to the straw dummy and pouncing on it. The younger brother immediately jumped with a cheer, revealing his hiding spot as he rushed over to the puppet.

“That was like 15 yards away, brother! And the arrow went zoom!” The young child holds out his arm, pretending it was the arrow and how it flew, nearly falling over from the extra momentum and the dogs that jump and bump into his small frame.

“Master Jay, please be careful!”

The maid, a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and white streaks, holds the ends of her skirt as she rushes across the field, her plump peach-colored face flushed. Jay ignores her completely, entertaining himself with the dogs and the straw deer, chasing them around with it.

“Marjorie, he is alright.”

She nearly jumps 10 feet in the air, turning around and coming face to face with the master of the house, Robyn Locksley. Who has a small smile, resting a firm, gentle hand on her shoulder with an apologetic grin and laugh. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” She presses her palms against her fast-beating heart, and he gives her a moment to gain her breath as he fixes the runaway strays of her hair, watching his brother from the corner of his eyes, watching Jay play happily with their two black and white hunting dogs.

“You called for me earlier. Was something wrong?”

Robyn holds out his arm, allowing the maid, one he’s known since childhood, to interlock their arms as they walk around the grassy field. She was the main maid in charge of Robyn’s everything, making sure that he had everything he could likely need, while his parents spent days away from the manor. Leaving their young son alone for days on end, a habit that didn’t change at the surprise arrival of Jay Locksley, who was born when Robyn was only sixteen.

So, while Marjorie took care of him, Robyn took care of Jay. Even after the Locksley name was ruined, all due to his father’s negligence and his mother’s embarrassment, who fled the moment it was declared by the Draconia Family that Robert Locksley had ruined their wealth and discarded their name and found dead in an alley in the next town over. Though his mother, Jane, died six years ago in a carriage accident.

Neither of the sons of Robert and Jane attended the funeral, at the request of her third husband.

“Goodness me! I almost forgot! Well, news has it that the courting season has changed from the Al-Asim Family to the Schoenheit Family, at the last minute’s notice—”

Robyn nods, giving an occasional hum as he listens. Knowing that it was better off to simply ramble on about whatever news and or drama she gained, speaking about all the speculated drama behind the sudden decision. Cause to her, quick and unusual change is never good.

Though Robyn is curious. A sudden change three months before courting season, he can imagine quite the mad faces of some of the more prominent families. Having to rearrange everything to fit the more regal attitude the Schoenheit’s had, instead of the more freeing vibe that the Al-Asim’s conveyed.

“It could possibly be tied to Kalim Al-Asim and his secret lover?” Robyn holds back a laugh but is not unable to stop a sly smile from spreading across his lips.

“I assume it is another story from the market?” Robyn watches her face go slightly pink, making Robyn know immediately that he’s correct. He laughs, watching her wave him off in a playful fashion. “All rumors hold a bit of truth.”

“That they do.”

They continue walking, Marjorie going back to her conjectures, Robyn adding input here and there, his bright blue eyes gazing along the gardens located on the side of the house, the grassy ground shifting into gravel, crossing past a flowery hedge into the fruit and vegetable gardens. His eyes surveyed each plant, silently searching for any growing berries and fresh, vibrant tomatoes. After finding nothing of interest, his gaze moves to the thick tree line that surrounded the entire Locksley Manor. Located on the furthest outskirts of the large bustling town, hidden within the green land forests. Marjorie continues,

“And it is to be held at the Pomefiore Manor!” Robyn turns to her, his full attention, his brows pulling together in shock and surprise. The Schoenheit family had two famous manors, the Schoenheit Manor where all events are held in relation to the family, and the Pomefiore Manor.

“The one in the Northern Mountains?” The maid nods, stopping in her tracks and pulling away as she rummages through her pockets, retrieving an elegant letter, and placed it in Robyn’s hands.

Pomefiore Manor is a manor of pure and utter elegance hidden within the towering northern mountains and shielded by flurries of never-ending winters. No one except the Schoenheit Family to be allowed that deep into the mountains. Others have tried, but none ever returned alive.

“Such an odd location... And so last minute...”

Robyn mutters under his breath, he’s spent time reading about the mountains and the mysterious snowstorm that follows, some say it was caused by a jealous queen who lost her love to another, and her cold bitter hurt would make those that once stood in her way suffer. While more logical, researchers blamed it on a strange influx of magic that forced the storm to never end. His gaze moves down to Marjorie, watching her anxious-filled expression. Robyn gently presses a hand against her head, his lips curling into a smile.

“I’ll be alright. I was invited, so there should be no worries.”

“You’ll be away for six months. Oh dear,” She leans against Robyn, leaning her full weight against him like a mother would her very own son. He allows her, indulging in the slight smell of honey that surrounds her. Marjorie continues to ramble as she pulls away. Robyn watches her talk aloud, speaking to herself, then to others.

“How would I ever—you’re off to getting married? I need to prepare. We only have three months—Dear Seven—” You watch her walk from the garden and towards the back of the house. Robyn follows behind her, slipping the letter into his pants pocket, as he watches her climb up the stone steps, still speaking to herself, stepping into the manor, clearly in her own world.

“What’s courting season?”

Jay pops up beside the young master of the house, holding a long stick, watching Marjorie before wide blue eyes look up at Robyn, dirt, and grass decorating his clothing. Robyn lets out a low hum, roughing up his brother’s hair, ignoring the gentle ‘hey!’, as Jay tries to duck away.

“It’s like a long party. I’ll be looking for a spouse—Though,” The master of the house trails off, a grin spreading across his lips, watching Jay try to fix his short messy red hair, that’s always messy, even after Robyn spends 15 minutes in front of a mirror, trying to style his unruly hair before giving up. Watching Jay try and slick his hair back, squinting his eyes to look cool, making Robyn laugh when the hair practically bounced back into place.

“—I’ll be away for six months.”

The two siblings walk side by side. Jay, with similar bright blue eyes, bounds happily beside his sibling, attracting the attention of the playful hunting dogs, who zip and dart between the two.

“For six months... That is a long, long time.” Robyn’s brother sways as he walks, purposely bumping into his brother, who uses his hand to entertain the dogs, feeling them playfully nip and bite at his fingers, and chasing the siblings as they walk.

“It is—You will be alright; Marjorie and Arthur will take of you.”

Marjorie and Arthur are the only two remaining maids and butlers to the Locksley Estate. The two manage everything within the large, empty manor. Marjorie is in charge of the inside of the manor, while Arthur handles all outer duties. Occasionally, the two siblings help in secret, dusting and sweeping, maintaining the gardens, and handling the large dogs.

“But it’ll be lonely without you—”

Jay wraps his arms around his brother’s waist, stopping the two in their tracks, Robyn gently combing his fingers through his brother’s hair. His lips pulled into a frown, the last few years, since the fall of the Locksley name, everything has been nothing but hectic, meaning Robyn missed his other courting season, leaving him with only this year and the next before he’s considered ineligible, which could possibly leave the two homeless. And though every fiber in his being wants to remain with his brother—nor does he truly desire a spouse—this is one of his ‘noble’ duties.

“I’ll visit. Once a month, if possible... Our situation is no secret.”

Jay is aware of their social standing. Aware of who exactly their parents were, Robyn had no reason to paint his parents in a good light. Sparing no expense to hide the truth in bits and pieces. Jay knows they’re nobles with no riches, nobles alone in status, merely because King Draconia pitied them, and swore that they could properly regain their title if Robyn worked and proved that the Locksley family was worth helping.

Though becoming a proper noble matters little to none to the Head of the Family, it’s merely a title that comes with a following never-ending headache, and if Robyn could—he very well would rid himself of it. Yet, he crouches to his brother’s level, his hands gently squeezing his shoulders. Jay’s eyes look glossed over in worry, his bottom lip poking out as he frowns.

“You’ll be in my thoughts. Always.”

Robyn Locksley has a brother to protect, to care for, whom he loves more than any other. His only family—besides Marjorie and Arthur—and closest friend. Jay nods, his pouting lips curling into a small mischievous smile as his hands tug at the bottom of his shirt. “Then—Can you help me shoot some more?”

Robyn gasps, clearly being tricked by his brother, “I knew those tears were fake!”

Robyn attacks his brother in a flurry of tickles, bringing his sibling into his embrace, wrestling Jay in his arms, causing him to giggle and laugh, fighting back and losing terribly. “No! No! Robyn! Please!” He shouts in between giggles, the dogs barking and yapping happily, knocking over both Robyn and Jay as they practically pounce onto the two, sending them all to the floor, giving Jay a chance to wiggle and squirm away, darting away in a fit of laughs and giggles. Robyn kneels in the grass, green blades coating parts of his clothing, hair, and face, hands resting on his knees. Jay sticks out his tongue, urging the dogs to come get him, leaving Robyn alone for a moment.

Courting Season.

It’s six months long and, unlike any of the other bachelors and bachelorettes, who flaunt and flounce, wearing their name proudly, the Locksley family cannot. ‘If not for myself... then for you,’ Jay darts around with the dogs, smile large and blue eyes happily wide. Robyn can’t remember the last time he’s seen his brother so happy, the last time he’s been so present. Not simply sparing a glance, but spending a moment with his brother after his long trips, to only leave again.

Trying to undo all his father did. Trying to prove his worth to the ever-reigning Draconia Family, who at any moment displeased with Robyn Locksley, could take everything away. Robyn pushes off the ground, wiping off the dirt and grass, his gaze turning to the large house. Whatever connection Robyn felt, whatever love for the manor—whatever love for his Locksley name ceased to exist years ago. It’s nothing but a house within his name, but to Jay—even as he knows the truth, the manor means something to him. That represents something that Robyn is quite unsure of.

“Master Robyn! Master Jay! Lunch is ready!” Marjorie’s voice shouts aloud, carrying a tray out and to the sitting area located at the top of the stairs, Arthur helping her keep the glass doors open.

Jay immediately is on his feet, racing towards the garden stairs, the two hunting dogs yapping and running after the young boy. A short happy huff lips past Robyn’s lips, walking towards the manor with a small smile.

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Courting Season.

A season in which all elegant bachelors and bachelorettes take a break from the pressures of society, gathering together to expand their family name and grow their riches by finding a spouse. There are no expectations of love, but connections. That is the goal, to connect and grow. Win it all or lose everything. Failure results in shame, and the Draconia refuses to have shame attached to them.

Courting Season is divided into two, the Spring Court and the Summer Court.

The Spring Court [March, April, May]:

The Court of Spring is the beginning of all festivities and gives a chance for everyone to scope out potential suitors and enjoy the fun without absolute commitment.

For most of the spring, the bachelors and bachelorettes remain separate. Getting to know one another and gaining companions. The more socially accepted you are, the less likely you’ll have competition in finding a good partner.

The Summer Court [June, July, August]:

The Court of Summer, this is the latter half of all festivities. During this time, one should already have mutually picked their suitor for the last three months, spending this time to bond more, whether romantically or for future business endeavors.

At this point, most have selected their main interest and attempt to spend the latter half trying to know them. While others, pleased with their connections but have no desire for romance, spend the last three months enjoying the festivities, but must show a sign that they are out of the running and uninteresting.

Origin of Courting Season: Created and in placed by one of the great kings of Briar Valley, as a way to keep the rich with the rich and keep the poor with the poor.

This idea has changed very little over time, due to the expansion of how many noble families exist beneath Draconia’s control.

ACT TWO:

“This above all; to thine own self be true.” - Shakespeare

The Huntsman can’t help but smile, turning his gaze to the growing crowd, as carriages of different sizes and colors move in staggered lines, traveling up the rocky dirt road, lined with elegant floral bushes, filling the air with the gentle scents of lavender and jasmine, guiding them towards the gleaming manor of violet, white, and gold. Feeling the cool spring air bite at his cheeks, he slides off the towering tree branch, falling to the ground in simply ease. Emerald eyes subtly memorized each landau that stood out before landing on a bright red and gold wooden carriage, pulled by two elegant black stallions.

“J’aime bien celui-là.”

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This is the beauty of the Pomefiore Manor.

It is a celebratory night, the first night of Courting Season, the first night before everyone is separated for the first three months. Yet that is the farthest thought from everyone’s mind. For some, it is their first time away from home, away from the suffocation of their titles. For others, this is a usual scene and a moment for them to take a break from their hectic life and bask in simplicity. For others, this is business, not a vacation.

DEAR ROBYN LOCKSLEY,

Greetings from the Draconia Family.

We hope all is well and wish you a very joyful and eventful courting season. May the odds be in your favor, and you find the perfect lover. We have written to you to speak gaily and thank you for all of your dedicated help, but we are also afraid that even after years of service, it is simply not enough. Your father was quite the foolish man and was built quite the debt, one you must repay. So sadly, I’m afraid that if you do not find a spouse of higher rank, you will be stripped of your title and all assets. Now don’t fear, this courting season is quite an extraordinary one, so have fun, be merry. For this might be your last time.

Best Wishes,

THE DRACONIA FAMILY

The words of the letter remain heavy upon his brain. Any formalities slipped out moreso on instinct than purpose, and barely remembering the faces of the different women and men that introduced themselves. Doing well to speak to the noble, only in name, rather than earned purpose. Which Robyn knows, aware of his name being spread across the ballroom like an uncontrolled wildfire, as others send him curious looks.

Looks he does well to ignore.

This had been on his mind for the last three months, in between preparations for his long journey, and making sure finances were in order. Making sure that Jay, Marjorie, and Arthur had all they needed while he was gone. He spent the days spending time with his brother, promising that six months would pass quickly that before they knew it, they’d be together again in the fall. While in the late night, he remained glued to his desk, furiously writing letters to different nobles and businessmen, trying to build any sort of safety net if he did fail in the task appointed by the Draconia Family. Spending nights within his bed, rereading the letter over and over.

Half of him wanted to make the unprompted journey to the Draconia Castle, demanding to speak with the King. Urge them to give him more tasks. To let him find some way to at least make sure his brother and the only two servants that he had were all right and cared for.

Though Robyn is certain that their solution would have Jay work for them. Not only does he lose the title of noble, but becomes a poorly treated servant. That thought alone forced Robyn to remain in the manor, doing well so as to not frighten the others.

He shakes the thought from his head. Suddenly very aware of his facial expressions, he forces a relaxed smile. Turning his gaze upon the crowded ballroom. Spotting some familiar faces and some not. Each and all dressed in the finest of silks and jewels, all wanted to show off to the Schoenheit heir, who has yet to make himself known.

Robyn stands against the towering white marble walls. As flickers of white and gold flames give way to bright light, placed upon hanging crystal chandeliers, as shoes tap and float against the polished floors. Dancing away with whoever filled their fancy, away from prying, judgmental eyes, with hands entwined and bodies close, dancing to the lovely orchestra.

Everyone during courting season has something to gain and something to hide.

The musicians, people that Robyn is sure that they have been alive far longer than him and have more than mastered the dark oak string instruments. The Locksley Head is certain that the orchestra is most definitely a gift from the Draconia Family. Seeing as no noble would accept less than the best, though Robyn is unsure of the last time he’s heard a live orchestra.

He holds the crystal flute glass, one practically forced into his hand the moment he stepped into the ballroom, occasionally sipping its sweet savory flavor that sends tingles down his tongue after every taste. There’s a subtle underlying flavor of alcohol. Yet the sweet flavor overpowers it greatly. He’s sure that there will be a few who make the mistake of drinking downing drink after drink.

Robyn softly sways to the music, far more interested in the different people, each seemingly comfortable in this environment. Not to say he hates dancing or even festivities, but it’s more enjoyable with someone, is it not?

Robyn’s blue eyes shifted across the enormous crowd that formed around the ballroom dance floor, mingling and gossiping—laughing at their own jokes and discussing the future events. Each within their own right, amazed with how elegant the first night seems to be, when Vil Schoenheit only had three months to prepare. While others knew that the moment Vil Schoenheit sent out invitations with a bouquet, that this year’s courting season—Vil Schoenheit's final courting season would be extravagant.

“Such a shame to only watch and never mingle—Though one can find beauty in simply people watching.”

The voice is like a cool summer breeze and has Robyn shuddering—once for the sudden cold and another out of pure surprise. A man, young, with short blonde hair, pulled into a low ponytail, and deep green eyes that betrayed nothing of his thoughts nor actions, but only showed his curiosity and amusement. He wears simple clothing, tight black pants, a white button-up shirt, and a black corset vest with green lace embellishments, with a simple black belt and a bow and quiver attached to his back.

Robyn glances over his form once more, before landing on his face. He’s watching the crowd. He can tell the strange man is a huntsman. The ends of Robyn’s lips curl. “People are the finest works of art.”

“Ils sont vraiment,” the huntsman says nothing more with a merry hum, occasionally glancing at the young nobleman, but keeping his gaze focused on the smiling faces of the people.

“From the way you’re dressed, you do not seem like a noble?” Robyn’s words make the man chuckle, earning his full attention, unlike before. He wears a bright smile, pressing a hand over his heart as he bows.

“That I am not. I am Rook Hunt, personal guard and huntsman to Vil Schoenheit.”

Robyn’s eyes widen at his words, watching Rook stand straight, a still amused smile upon his lips. “May I ask what gave me away, Mr. Robyn Locksley?”

“You know who I am?”

“Who would not? You arrived in such a crimson carriage. Such a red is quite beautiful.” Emerald eyes dart up to his hair, before resting back on Robyn’s face, unafraid of eye contact. Robyn lets out a low huff like laugh, crossing his arms, and tilting his head to the side. “You asked how I knew—”

“Oui.”

“You are simply underdressed.” The words make the huntsman laugh, a few eyes turning in their direction for the sudden loud laugh, unaware of the two.

“Such a simple fact and yet gave so much away. Tu es vraiment fascinant.” Rook wipes away imaginary tears, giving another shallow bow, as if apologizing. “Forgive me of my outburst, it is not often one speaks to me so freely.”

“Freely?” Darting past Robyn’s curiosity, his smile unfaltering, “You spoke as people being art, then we stand in a museum of moving pieces.”

A museum of moving pieces. Robyn follows Rook’s gaze, watching the crowd move and dance. No one is in the same position as before, some with their arms crossed when they once talked animatedly, some who drink when they once were eating.

“So much passes in so little time. How can one truly appreciate it without a photo?” How can one fully enjoy a moment when a moment so quickly passes? Robyn’s gaze moves to his flute glass, watching the bubbles form and pop, before turning his gaze back towards the crowd.

“That is the beauty of it.” Rook tears his eyes away, green eyes filled with so much honesty. For a moment, Robyn swears he sees Jay’s honest eyes. It has been so long since he’s met someone who’s so true to themselves.

“You speak of…” The words come out heavy, and weigh heavily upon his tongue, “beauty quite often… Why?”

Rook takes a moment to answer, though Robyn is certain that the huntsman doesn’t need a moment to think of response, but moreso for affect. “That is my life pursuit… To find beauty in all things.” Robyn’s eyes move towards the orchestra, watching them happily play, caught up in the melodies of their own music. He thinks back to the letter, one he folded and shoved into the deepest parts of his temporary dresser, unable to swallow the bitterness of it all. Robyn lets out a soft sigh, taking a large gulp of his drink, before speaking.

“In theory that would be easy… To find beauty in everything… Yet how do you look past the negative to see beauty?”

“You do not.” The Huntsman answers with ease, rocking on his heels with a smile, laughing at Robyn’s confused expression. “You take all for how it is and how it will be. Negativity is a fluid emotion—no one can avoid it, so you must learn how to see it for what it is. People will always have negativity—that is one of life’s absolutes. Yet that is not all people can be…”

“So, you find beauty in those that experience it and move past it?”

“And those who cannot—il y a de la beauté dans l’angoisse.”

Robyn finishes the bubbly drink, placing the crystal flute glass on the tray of a passing by servant, before turning to Rook with a grin. “I quite enjoy your company,” Robyn face slightly flushed, feeling the gentle buzz of alcohol in his system, yet he doesn’t stop, offering out a hand.

“May I ask you to accompany me to the gardens?”

══════ •✦• ══════

“Master Vil, many are awaiting your arrival.”

A short maid bows deeply keeping her face hidden as the Schoenheit heir finishes his hair. Pulled into a simple bun, adorned with crystals and jewels. His pink painted lips pressed together, fingers elegantly fixing the golden chain of his necklace.

“Tell me, has father said anything about the courting season?” His voice is low, while the elegant makeup brush is carefully dragged across the lid of his eye, unbothered to even look at the shuddering maid, who’s dressed in simply black and white, keeping herself in Vil’s shadow.

“He—um—The Master spoke of annoyance and disappointment, yet has said nothing else, Master Vil.”

Coating the purple eye shadow across his eyes, before switching to black eyeliner, he speaks again. “That is good, I suppose,” he moves to his other eye, “And have you seen Rook? I give him a moment to see all who has arrived, and he takes the time to simply go missing.” Vil speaks to himself before letting out a sigh, switching from the black eye shadow to a deep purple. He speaks directly to his maid.

“I am aware he has been mingling with guests, yet has yet returned, where is he?”

“Um, the gardens, I believe. He is entertaining Master Robyn Locksley.” Vil pulls the brush from his eye, staring at the two perfectly matching eyes, before placing the brush down and for once, turning to fully look at the maid. His blonde brows furrowed and lips in a low grimace.

“Robyn Locksley… If I am correct, he is a noble in name and of nothing else.” There is slight venom in his words, standing up from his vanity and towards the full-length mirror, once again checking to make sure his outfit is in order. The maid makes sure to stand behind him, keeping her hand over her heart and legs crossed in a low curtsy.

“Yes, that he is. But many say that the reason is due to Robyn Locksley having close ties to the Draconia Family. Which is why he is able to retain his title. Rumors say that it was Lord Malleus himself who gifted the Locksley with the crimson red carriage. Which has caught a lot of attention, I am certain that Master Robyn will have quite many who seek him.”

Vil clicks his tongue, heels clicking as he returns to his vanity, picking up the black eye liner, “I do not like rumors, yet if there is any truth in this—I assure you, Robyn Locksley has caught my attention.” He speaks under his breath, adding the wings onto his eyes, before clearing his throat.

“Prepare for my arrival. I want not a soul missing.”

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jasmariswonderland · 8 months

Text

Dreams Adorned In Silk ~ VilxOC

Synopsis: After months of knowing her, Vil thinks it's time to finally time to express to Danica all that he feels for her. And what better way than under a dazzling, firelit sky?

A/N: Vil's new SSR has a death-grip upon my heart. 😭😍😭

Pairings: 👑/🦢

Word Count: 2315

Warnings: A lot of fluff with just the slightest hint of angst.

~~~

With the final descent of the sun, the evening began to take on a cooler temperature. A blessed relief from the scorching heat. They had arrived earlier that afternoon while the sun was still blazing high in the sky and while their silky attire offered stylish comfort, a break from the heat was not unwelcome. Now, nestled together in a private tent some distance down the river and away from the crowds, they prepared for a spectacular night they were sure to enjoy. And for Vil, the moment he’d been greatly anticipating, but simultaneously dreading, had finally come.

In the corner of the tent, sat his fair companion. He watched as she held out her hand, musing over the elegant jeweled bangle circling her wrist. The beginnings of a smile pulled at Vil’s lips, it was something he’d seen her admiring it in the marketplace earlier that day. She said nothing, not wanting to feel like she was imposing on him, but the wistful look in her eyes told him all that he needed to know. When they arrived at their tent a little while ago, the first thing Vil did was surprise Danica with a beautifully crafted gift box. Biting back a smirk at the small gasp and the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the bangle.

“How did you know?” she had asked him. “I was looking at it, true, but…I don’t think…”

“Your lips might not have said you wanted this, but they didn’t have to.” A playful smile caused her cheeks to redden. “The look in your eyes was confirmation enough that you would appreciate if I gave this to you.”

“Ahh, oh Vil-san, thank you!”

The red tint upon her face darkened as she slipped the bangle on her arm. She turned it afew times with her other hand, watching as the gems sparkled, their light jumping from one facet to another. Though she did not realize it, her own eyes were sparkling as well.

“It’s so beautiful, thank you. Thank you!”

Seeing her joy caused a fluttering sensation in his chest. Secretly, it brought him joy as well, seeing her so happy. There were not many instances where Vil could see Danica smile. The last few months had been particularly difficult ones and loath he was to admit it, Vil had been the source of much of her despair.

Things in their world were now beginning to calm down. The VDC had passed, their emotions reconciled and they managed to escape STYX. The Shroud brothers were dealt with and, best of all, Vil’s youthful beauty had been restored after his heroic dive into the underworld. Everything seemed to be returning to normal and today’s venture to Scalding Sands was a wonderful change to their usual routines.

And for Vil, it was even more wonderful that despite all they had been through, Danica was still able to smile at him and enjoy his company just as much as he enjoyed her’s. How nice it was to finally have some time alone with her, without the pressures of school or the expectations of the world breathing down their necks. At that moment, he wasn’t Vil Scheonheit, the international mega celebrity and dorm leader of Pomefiore. He was simply Vil enjoying a vacation with the one he cared about above all others.

“I’ve had so much fun today,” said Danica. “I’m so excited for the fireworks, it will be the perfect ending to a perfect day!”

“I’m glad to hear that, Little Potato,” Vil smiled. “I take it you’re no longer feeling sad?”

“Sad? Why ever would I feel sad for?”

“Well I know a few of your friends were also here today,” he thoughtfully tilted his head. “Iman, Vidaria, Kalim and Cater. Even Trey and Yuulan are here as well. I saw some of the pictures Cater uploaded to Magicam.”

“Yes, I saw the pictures too,” Danica lowered her gaze, which momentarily gave Vil reason for concern. But she ended up smiling. “But I wasn’t sad, I’m…much happier that I got to spend the day with you, Vil-san.”

“Really?” This genuinely surprised Vil, though it also secretly tickled him. “You’re glad you spent the day with me, as opposed to your friends?”

“What? Does that sound very strange?”

“No, no. I don’t mean it that way, it’s just that…well…I figured…”

His voice trailed off, surprisingly at a loss for words. Danica smiled and went on to explain how she could hang out with her friends anytime while they were at school. However with Vil, though they were in the same dorm, their obligations often kept them from spending time together. Especially considering that Vil was a dorm leader and soon to begin preparing for his senior internship. Once the new school year began, they were likely not to see much of each other at all.

“I could always call up Kalim or Cater and arrange a meetup if I wanted to,” she said. “But I value the time I can have with you because…well…” A light red tint returned to her cheeks. “Because it’s so rare that we can be alone, I value this time with you all the more.”

“Danica…”

Vil’s heart began to flutter once more. Over the months, Danica had gradually become more assertive in speaking her mind. She still had her timid moments, but she was finding her voice and her thoughtful astuteness was something that he always found intriguing. But for her to voice how much she valued their time together, well, it was enough for Vil to start feeling rather bold.

He couldn’t deny the close bond they had forged. A most unlikely friendship that Vil never could have anticipated. When he thought how this was the same shy and soft-spoken spudling he was introduced to at the start of the school year, it made him chuckle. What initially began as a curiosity on his part soon blossomed into a genuine respect, eventually giving way to awe and now, something even deeper.

As time passed, he found he could not deny these feelings developing within him. Nor could he deny the immense comfort Danica had provided him during the more recent times of difficulty. When he overblotted, she did not judge him. When his appearance drastically changed after his underworld dive, not once did she flinch. Instead, in both situations, her unwavering support had been his anchor.

Vil was grateful for her growth, her strength, and her newfound confidence. He had come to appreciate her not just as a friend but as someone truly special.

Still, a nagging thought continued to gnaw at him. In his pursuit of beauty, he had been quite ruthless with her at times. His harshness often overwhelmed her, sometimes reducing her to tears. The pressure he placed upon her was insurmountable and he cringed inside thinking of the pain he caused as they were preparing for the VDC. All of this weighed as heavily on his heart as his feelings for her. Could she really accept him after enduring such pain?

Her words were the exact answer he needed. And as the evening became cooler and Danica slowly moved closer to him, Vil found he could not deny his feelings any longer. In his mind, he rehearsed his words, reminding himself that as a professional actor, this shouldn’t be such a difficult thing to do. How many times has he said these words before be it on stage or film? A dozen times at least? This is what his mind told him but in his heart, he knew this would be far from easy, and unlike any other performance he gave, this was real.

Danica was now sitting very close to him, close enough for her to take in the elegant scent of his perfume. It was woody and slightly spicy, but also sweet, perfect for their surroundings and suited Vil very well. She glanced up at him, his brows furrowed and deep in thought, and couldn't help but stare for a few moments. Not too long ago, just to be in the same room as Vil seemed to her like the most harrowing experience in the world. And to look at him was tantamount to looking into the eyes of a god. Time had calmed her anxiety around him and while their closeness still felt unnerving at times, it also made her heart feel strangely warm. As she thought about this, she began turning back around and was surprised by a gentle hand running down her cheek. Vil pulled a lock of hair away from her face, catching her attention.

“Danica, there’s been something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time.”

“Hmm? What is it, Vil-san?”

“I…well…” he took a deep breath. “First off, I would like to apologize. The first time I attempted to convey this, I did so in an extremely undignified manner.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was extremely selfish and cruel then. But please know, even though I did a very poor job at expressing my feelings, they haven't changed,” Vil smiled a little. “And when I say that I am the only one who sees you for the jewel that you are, I mean that.Truly.”

These words made Danica blush, though they also perplexed her. She couldn’t yet understand what Vil was trying to say but she did notice how he was looking at her. His usual intense gaze was softer and more tender. With his tone lacking its usual authoritative manner. Once again, she asked what he meant by this. But just as he worked up the courage to continue, they were both startled by a loud, booming sound filling the air. Fireworks erupted in a brilliant display.

Like a garden of flowers blooming in the sky, the night was illuminated with glowing color and dazzling light. Danica even reached out to the sky, she’d never seen such large fireworks before and felt they were close enough to touch. In the distance an enchanting, infectious music began to play, filling the air and loud enough for them to hear. Both of them were enraptured by the gorgeous display and Vil momentarily forgot his words, smiling at Danica.

“Would you like to dance with me, Little Potato?” he asked. “You know, it’s a Scalding Sands’ tradition to dance under the fireworks. Kalim told me.”

A bright red tint returned to Danica’s cheeks. “Was that…what you wanted to ask me, Vil-san?”

Of course it wasn’t, but he looked at her teasingly. “Do you want to dance with me or not?”

She eagerly agreed, allowing him to take her hand and pull her to her feet. Under the firelit sky, he guided her through an array of fun and graceful movements that perfectly matched the music. The colorful silks of their attire swirled elegantly with them as they danced, adding themselves to the gorgeous display up above. Vil was a beautiful dancer and the perfect partner, Danica already knew that firsthand. The way he danced with her always left her breathless; every turn, every sway, was captivating. The way he never took his eyes off of her, caused her heart to race with the rhythm of the music.

However, what touched Danica the most, at that moment, was seeing Vil laugh and smile with such natural joy. It was rare to see him smile, even at her. He often kept a stolid expression when he wasn’t glaring with disappointment or smirking with amusement. But a true smile from Vil was almost as rare as him going a day without once having to scold Epel. But because she didn’t often see him smile, when he did, it was all the more special. A beautiful treasure that she held dear to her heart.

It was also quite infectious and Danica found herself smiling with him, sharing in this joy. So deep was this joy that what happened next was as natural as it was spontaneous. Vil stopped spinning her and for a moment, they continued gazing up at the colorful sky before he lifted her chin to face him. He gazed at her thoughtfully and without a word, gently pressed his lips to hers. He half expected her to be shocked or even to pull away, but to his surprise, she didn’t. There was no resistance and Danica slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

Under the firelit sky, the fireworks weren’t the only thing booming. Though Vil hadn’t yet voiced his feelings, at that moment, he didn’t have to. Their closeness, this kiss, spoke louder than any words he could say. And her response said it all, his love was reciprocated.

~~~

Vil slowly stirred awake, tears dampening his cheeks even before he opened his eyes. His heart ached with the bittersweet residue of the dream that had felt so vivid, so real. He knew what he would find before his eyes opened to confirm it. The empty space beside him in his bed told him that it had indeed all been a dream. A beautiful, silk-adorned dream, and now reality was crashing down upon him.

Cursing his own mind for playing such a cruel trick on him, Vil couldn't help but wonder why he would dream of something so poignant in the first place. That’s when his gaze shifted to the dress form in the corner of his room, adorned with the silky outfit Trey had gifted him, a plethora of vibrant colors and glittery fireworks printed upon the fabric. At the time, gratitude welled up within him for the thoughtful gift, but now it was overshadowed by sadness and regret. How he would have loved to attend and see the fireworks for himself, dancing in the gorgeous silk outfit with Danica by his side. It could have been a perfect date, and the perfect moment to finally express his feelings to her.

As he showered and dressed in his school uniform, Vil continued to contemplate this. He had fallen in love with her, that much was certain. And considering all they had gone through, he was almost certain that she was in love with him as well. Unfortunately, they hadn’t had much opportunity to really discuss their relationship since their return from STYX. The emotions from that harrowing experience were still quite high even a month later, to say nothing of his guilt at how badly he’d treated her before.

He was just about ready to leave for the day, classes would start soon and he had to shift his focus. Vil gleaned out the window of his room, it was a lovely day at least, warm and sunny without a single cloud in the blue sky. His window also overlooked the Pomefiore courtyard and when he glanced down, there she was. Danica sat under one of the apple trees, chatting and laughing with Yuulan, Grim sitting in the latter’s lap. Her laughter was like music to his ears, and it ignited a spark of determination within him.

The time for hesitance had long passed. It was time to seize the moment.

With his phone in hand, Vil quickly wrote up a text to Danica and watched as she received it and checked her phone. The message was simple: a request for her to meet him in the lounge later that evening for a monthly evaluation, something he gave to all freshmen. In truth, the evaluation was merely a pretense for something just as important, but even more special.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #pomefiore #twst vil #vil schoenheit #vil x oc #vil schoenheit x oc #otp: vildani #oc: danica #things i write

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