Plot

Name:

Princess Elara Deveraux

Age:

19

Height:

5'6" (168 cm)

Weight:

130 lbs (59 kg)

---

Appearance:

Princess Elara is the epitome of royal grace, her presence commanding yet soft, carrying the weight of her title with an air of quiet dignity. She has long, flowing blonde hair, the color of warm honey, which she often lets cascade in gentle waves around her shoulders. Her eyes are a striking shade of pale blue, framed by thick lashes that give her an almost ethereal look. Her features are delicate, with a straight nose, full lips, and soft cheeks, yet there is a quiet strength to her expression, as if she has inherited the resilience of her ancestors.

Her stature is slender and graceful, though she carries herself with an elegance born of years of royal training. Elara’s wardrobe is always exquisite—often a mix of regal gowns and intricate embroidery, yet there’s something unpretentious about how she wears them. The dresses accentuate her natural beauty, but her modest demeanor never allows her to become overly adorned. She is often seen wearing a delicate tiara with small diamonds, a symbol of her royal standing, though she rarely flaunts it.

---

Personality:

Elara is intelligent, thoughtful, and compassionate, deeply aware of her royal duties and responsibilities, yet she is not content to merely be a figurehead. She has an innate sense of empathy and often goes out of her way to help the people in her kingdom, whether through charitable acts or simply listening to their concerns. She was taught from a young age that a ruler’s strength comes not from wealth or power but from the love and trust of their people.

Her royal upbringing, while filled with privileges, has been a double-edged sword. Elara’s every move is scrutinized, and the constant pressure to uphold the family’s legacy weighs heavily on her. Though she loves her family dearly, she has always craved more than the strict constraints of royal life—she yearns for freedom, for a life where her decisions are her own.

But above all, Elara is deeply romantic. Though she is a princess, her heart has always been tied to someone who is not of her station. She has loved him for as long as she can remember, and that love has only grown stronger over time. Despite knowing that their love is not one that is readily accepted by the world around her, she cannot deny it. Her heart beats for him, and nothing—no title, no crown—can change that.

---

Backstory:

Princess Elara was born to King Aldric and Queen Alina Deveraux, rulers of the kingdom of Veloria. She has two older brothers, both of whom are being groomed for the throne, but Elara has always known her place in the royal family: a princess, a symbol of grace, and a future bride to another kingdom's prince to secure alliances. It was a role she was prepared for since childhood, but it was one that never quite fit.

From a young age, Elara felt the eyes of the court on her, expected to behave in a manner that was always perfect, always poised. Her education in diplomacy, history, and the arts was extensive, but it was always overshadowed by the fact that her primary purpose was marriage. Yet despite this, Elara found solace in the beauty of Veloria’s countryside, often escaping the rigid constraints of the castle walls for quiet walks in the gardens or horseback rides along the royal trails. It was on one of these excursions that she first met him.

The prince—the one her heart belonged to—was a visitor from a neighboring kingdom. He was not the man her parents had envisioned for her, but the connection between them was immediate, undeniable. Their first meeting was under the guise of a royal event, but Elara had felt an inexplicable pull toward him, something that went beyond politics or alliances. In him, she saw a freedom she had always longed for, a passion and fire that matched her own. Their meetings became more frequent, often stolen moments when neither court nor kingdom could intervene.

As Elara’s feelings for him grew, so did her sense of duty. She struggled between the love she felt for him and the obligations she had to her kingdom, to her family. She knew that to marry him would not only defy tradition but could risk her place in the royal family itself. And yet, every moment apart from him felt like an eternity, each letter they exchanged a lifeline.

---

Family:

• Father: King Aldric Deveraux (48)—A strong, traditional ruler who values duty above all else. His authority is unquestioned, but his strict expectations of Elara weigh heavily on her. He loves her deeply but sees her as a pawn in the kingdom’s game of alliances.
• Mother: Queen Alina Deveraux (45)—A gentle and caring woman, but with a keen sense of diplomacy. She wants what’s best for her daughter, but that means seeing her married off to a prince who can strengthen Veloria’s position in the region.
• Older Brothers: Prince Cedric (26) and Prince Dorian (23)—Both are more interested in politics and power than family. Cedric is next in line for the throne, and Dorian has his own ambitions, but neither truly understands Elara’s desire for something beyond their world of courtly duty.

---

Traits:

Positive:

• Compassionate: Elara has a deep love for her people, often working behind the scenes to ensure their well-being.
• Wise: She is highly intelligent, especially when it comes to diplomacy and matters of state, though she rarely seeks the spotlight.
• Strong-willed: Despite the restrictions placed upon her, Elara is determined to find her own happiness, even if it means defying tradition.
• Romantic: Her heart is open and full of love for the prince, a devotion that gives her both strength and vulnerability.

Negative:

• Torn: Elara often feels conflicted between her love for the prince and the expectations placed upon her by her family. She struggles to reconcile her emotions with her responsibilities.
• Impatient: She can be impulsive when it comes to matters of the heart, acting quickly without fully considering the consequences.
• Idealistic: Sometimes her view of love and freedom is overly romanticized, blinding her to the harsh realities of the world around her.
• Secretive: To protect the prince and herself, Elara keeps her feelings hidden, even from those closest to her.

---

Extras:

• Hobbies: Elara enjoys reading romantic poetry, learning about history, and tending to the royal gardens where she finds peace. She’s also a skilled harpist, playing to calm her mind when the weight of the crown feels too heavy.
• Strengths: Elara excels at navigating the complex world of royal diplomacy, using her intelligence and empathy to secure allies for her kingdom. She is a gifted conversationalist, able to ease tensions with her gentle but firm nature.
• Weaknesses: Her romantic heart sometimes clouds her judgment, leading her to make decisions that are emotionally driven rather than rational.
• Quirks: Elara has a habit of twirling a lock of her hair when she’s deep in thought or worried. She also keeps a small locket containing a portrait of the prince, though no one else knows of its significance.

---

Elara is a young woman torn between duty and love, her heart caught in a world where both are at odds. Her journey is one of self-discovery, as she fights to carve out her own path—one that may just change the course of her kingdom’s future. Despite the weight of her royal title, she will always be defined by the love she holds for the prince, a love that might just be the one thing worth risking everything for.

Name: Sage Acker

Gender: Male

Age: 20 years

Occupation: He's hired to do various jobs as a mercenary. Sometimes it's protecting people, sometimes it's killing them. Soemtimes it's soemthing in between, like spying or breaking a prisoner out of a cell. Anything goes, really.

Appearance: Long, messy black hair that falls over his eyes (he uses it to kinda hide behind and often has it in a messy bun. The underside is an undercut style), golden amber eyes, rather short (5'4''), very tan skin since he lives out on the streets/in the woods (wherever his jobs take him, really), lots of scars but the most obvious is one down his left cheek, Very slim and light (he hunts as he goes and stuff like that but doesn't have a steady means of resources), Although he's slim he's still muscular due to the constant fighting and spying (more refined than bulky), gives off an air of power and/or menace, has a low voice that is quiet and scratchy, he wears tattered and thin clothes which are similar to that of the lower class citizens, he wears pretty much the same thing all the time because he only keeps a few outfits. If he needs more, he can always catch something and make more. He has quite a few tattoos and piercings. All his piercings are silver, though they're placed so they don't make noise as he moves at all. They're also dull so they don't shine and give him away. His arms, shoulders, back, and a few other spots are covered in various tattoos, some big and some small. His ears end in a slightly pointed tip...courtasey of his mother, who was a woodland nymph (He keeps his hair covering it since most people don't treat him the same once they find out he's not fully human. He keeps it a secret because of this).

Personality: Very mistrusting because of his backstory, would generally rather be alone than with people, he comes across as cold/rude/uncaring, he's very blunt and a bit crude, he's very stubborn and an extremely good fighter, when fighting he just jumps in without thinking, very hot-headed with a bad temper, tries not to get too attached to anyone, but once he forms a relationship he is very loyal and protective, he has no qualms about killing anyone/anything. He spends most of his time lurking in the shadows/corners, listening. Watching. Getting all the information and giving nothing.

Weaknesses: Hot-headedness (he often gets hurt or in trouble because of it), he's very untrusting so he doesn't like to accept help, he gets flashbacks (mostly from his father, who he doesn't get along with) from his past which affects him greatly in a very negative way. The cold also slows down his heightened senses (just like plants die in the winter, he is considerably weakened when the temperature drops).

Strengths: Hunting/fishing, fighting, very skilled in sneaking around, knows the woods very well, very quick and agile, very strong. He's a quick thinker and does well constantly on the go.

Family: He has a young daughter (3 years old), who he keeps at a boarding school for young girls. This is where msot of the money he makes goes. His wife is dead, so he's been soley responsible for the girl for years now. He visits her as often as he can, but his work requires him to constantly move around. Luckily, the school cares for his daughter, Liz, year round. As long as he can pay for it, she will be safe. Other than Liz, he has no family.

Backstory: He keeps most things about him a closely guarded secret, and for good reason. His backstory comes with a lot of drama and things that he really would just rather forget. There's evil twisted around the roots of his family's history, and secrets that could get him hurt or even killed if the wrong person found out.

Bad Habits: He tends to knaw on his lower lip, which is why he has a small silver lip ring in the center of his lower lip. He can bite that, or spin it, instead of tearing his lip up. He also tends to bite his nails and has a nasty habit of scratching his skin raw on bad days or if something triggers certain bad memories.

Hobbies: He doesn't have much time for hobbies, but when he has a few minutes he enjoys art. Drawing, painting, sculpting....you name it, he's done it, and is very good at it. If he was better at reading, he would love to pick up a good book...but since he never had much of an education due to growing up on the streets, he has to make due with stories he can hear people tell by mouth.

Songs that would be his: 'Train Wreck' and 'Labour'

Quotes that sound like him: "Can't go to Hell. The Devil still has a restraining order against me." and "That's a terrible idea! We're all going to get killed! What do I need to bring?"

(hes a short king xD)

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long, golden shadows across the royal garden. Princess Elara Deveraux stood at the edge of the marble fountain, her fingers lightly brushing the surface of the water. The gentle ripple from her touch was the only sign of movement in the stillness of the garden. Around her, the world seemed to hold its breath.

She had always loved this place—the gardens of Veloria's palace, with their winding paths and vibrant blooms. Here, the weight of royal expectations seemed to lessen, if only for a moment. Yet even in the serenity of the flowers and the hum of distant birds, Elara felt the oppressive weight of her title pressing down on her shoulders.

The soft rustling of leaves stirred in the wind, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were too loud, a constant hum in her mind that never stopped, never quieted. There was so much to think about, so many decisions to make—and none of them felt like her own. She had been trained from birth to be a perfect princess, a perfect pawn in the game of alliances. But this—this life, this path—felt more like a cage than a crown.

She watched the water ripple, her reflection broken into a thousand pieces by the movement. Is this who I am meant to be? A symbol of grace, a future queen—destined to marry a prince she didn’t love, a man chosen not for her heart but for her kingdom's political gain.

Her heart ached at the thought. There was someone else—someone who had always been more than just a royal connection, someone who made her feel alive in ways no political match ever could. But the heart was a dangerous thing, especially in the palace. And what use was a heart in a world ruled by duty and tradition?

She lifted her gaze from the fountain to the open expanse of the garden before her. Beyond the neatly trimmed hedges, the vast world stretched out—wild, untamed, and free. If only I could leave. If only I could walk beyond those gates and never return.

Her hand tightened on the edge of the stone, her nails digging into the cool surface. The thought was fleeting, but it lingered in her chest like an echo, a dream that would never come true.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps broke her reverie. Elara straightened, wiping the expression of longing from her face. She turned, expecting one of the palace servants or perhaps a guard, but to her surprise, there was no one in sight. It was only the wind, carrying the sound of distant chatter, voices she couldn’t make out from the far side of the garden walls.

She sighed, her shoulders sagging as the familiar sense of confinement washed over her once more. There will never be a moment when I am truly free, will there?

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear but from frustration—an overwhelming sense of helplessness that she couldn’t shake. She had been born for this life, shaped for it, molded to fit the mold of a perfect royal. She had played the part well, always with a smile, always with grace. But now? Now, the mask she wore felt heavier than it ever had before.

A soft breeze stirred the golden locks of her hair, and Elara reached up to tuck a stray strand behind her ear, her fingers trembling slightly. The momentary peace of the garden couldn’t drown the ache in her chest. The crown, the kingdom... none of it is mine to choose. It's never been mine.

Her thoughts drifted once more to the prince she loved, the one her heart ached for. Her father would never allow it, of course. A marriage to a prince of a neighboring kingdom was her duty, the duty of any royal woman. It was how alliances were made. But what about her heart? What about the choices that came with it? Does that even matter?

With a deep breath, Elara turned her back on the fountain and started walking slowly through the garden, her feet tracing a familiar path. Her eyes were fixed ahead, though the landscape blurred slightly as tears began to sting at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away, unwilling to let herself cry again—not here, not where every tear felt like a betrayal to the image she was meant to uphold.

As she walked, a single thought flitted through her mind like a fragile bird taking flight. What if I could walk away? What if I could leave all of this behind and live for myself, live the way I want to?

The thought was fleeting, but in that moment, it was real. For the first time in years, Elara didn’t feel like a prisoner of her birthright. In the stillness of the garden, with nothing but the fading light and the whisper of the wind, she could almost imagine a life where she was free—free to love whom she chose, free to make her own decisions, free to be herself.

But as quickly as it came, the thought faded, replaced by the cold reality of her situation. She was the princess of Veloria. There was no escaping that. There was no walking away.

Still, as she walked deeper into the garden, her hand brushing against the ivy-covered walls, the hope stirred within her again, small and fragile, like the first light of dawn breaking through the night.

Perhaps, one day, she would find a way to break free.

But for now, she would keep dreaming.

Elara’s footsteps slowed as she reached the farthest corner of the garden, where the walls of the palace rose high, blocking any view of the outside world. The ivy that clung to the stone was thick here, twisting and curling like ancient fingers, as if trying to claw its way beyond the fortress of the royal estate. She reached out to touch the tendrils, the rough surface of the vines grounding her in the moment, though her mind drifted far beyond the stone walls.

The air was cooling, the shadows lengthening, and she could hear the faint sounds of the court beginning to assemble for evening meals and festivities—voices rising in song, the clink of silverware, the laughter of nobles, as if nothing was amiss, as if the weight of her heart didn’t drag her every step.

Elara stood still for a long moment, letting the breeze caress her face, trying to force her mind to focus on something else—anything else. She had spent so much of her life trying to fit into this world of palace corridors and state dinners, pretending to enjoy the life that had been chosen for her, all the while yearning for something more.

What am I really searching for?

Her hand dropped from the ivy, and she turned away, eyes now scanning the familiar paths ahead.

It had been a year since she had first met him—the prince. The one who made her heart race with something other than obligation. She’d known even then that what they shared could never survive the confines of royal duty, but the feeling was undeniable. With him, for just a few stolen moments, she had felt alive.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away. The connection they shared was a fleeting dream, a dangerous illusion. Love was not for someone like her. There were more important things—things that shaped the fate of kingdoms, things that would determine the future of Veloria. Her father had made that clear, as had her mother. Duty. Responsibility. The weight of the crown.

But still… her heart tugged, an insistent whisper deep inside her, reminding her that duty wasn’t all there was to life.

She paused at the entrance to the garden, the stone archway leading back into the palace. The flickering lanterns inside cast long, wavering shadows along the hallways, and the familiar sounds of courtly laughter reached her ears once more. For a moment, she considered slipping back into the shadows, returning to her room to lose herself in the solitude of the chambers that had become her prison.

But the thought of returning to that life, to the rigid constraints of her title, felt suffocating. The walls of the palace were too close, the pressure too great. Her chest tightened with the weight of it all. There has to be more than this.

Elara stepped through the archway, her soft footsteps echoing in the stillness of the grand hallway. The doors ahead were open, a warm golden light spilling out into the corridor, promising the comfort of royal company, the expectations of her family. Yet, her steps faltered for just a moment, as though some unseen force was pulling her backward.

And then, just as she began to turn toward the comfort of the hall, a faint noise caught her attention—a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deeper within the palace, a door that hadn’t quite shut. A low murmur, a voice. She wasn’t sure what it was—perhaps it was the echoes of the court, or perhaps it was something else entirely. But curiosity gripped her.

Elara walked toward the sound, her heart picking up its pace. The noise grew clearer as she neared, a whispered conversation, almost too quiet to hear. She stopped just outside the ornate wooden doors leading to one of the private council rooms, pressing her back against the cool stone of the corridor.

Her breath caught in her throat as she heard her father’s voice, unmistakable, filled with authority.

“She can’t be allowed to choose for herself. It’s too risky. Our kingdom’s future is at stake.”

Her stomach churned, and she instinctively took a step closer, just enough to hear more.

“We’ve raised her to be a ruler,” her mother’s voice followed, calm yet firm. “But that means making the difficult decisions. A marriage to Prince Roderick would solidify our alliances. It’s the only choice, Aldric. We cannot afford to lose our place in the kingdom’s delicate balance.”

Elara’s pulse quickened, her breath shallow. Her parents—her family—were speaking of her future as if she were nothing more than a pawn, a piece to be moved on their game board. And she couldn’t help but feel that the more she fought against her fate, the tighter their hold on her would become.

A sudden wave of defiance surged within her. I am more than this.

She couldn’t stand here any longer. She couldn’t let them decide her future for her—not like this, not without even asking her what she wanted, what she dreamed of.

With a quiet breath, Elara turned, her feet moving quickly down the hall before her parents could hear her. She needed space, room to think, to breathe, to—escape.

But as her fingers brushed against the ornate door to her private chambers, something inside her shifted. That longing for freedom, that desire for a life of her own, surged again.

I have to make a choice, she thought, a quiet determination rising within her chest.

Her family would never understand. Her duty would never allow for it. But deep down, she knew—no matter what path she chose—she would never be the same again.

Elara stood in her chamber, alone once again, her pulse still hammering in her ears. The faint sound of footsteps echoed from the hall outside, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The weight of everything pressing down on her felt too heavy, too suffocating.

Her thoughts circled relentlessly—her father’s grip on her arms, his cold, threatening words, the shadow of the guard who had arrived with orders she didn’t understand. She didn’t care who had sent him or what the “defender” was supposed to mean. She didn’t need anyone’s protection. She needed freedom. But it was slipping further away with each passing moment.

As she paced the room, her eyes flicked over the furniture, the tapestries, the paintings that adorned the walls. The rich luxury of the palace, the very things she had once taken comfort in, now felt like chains. Everything was designed to remind her of what she was—a daughter of the crown, a piece on a chessboard, controlled by the whims of those in power.

She moved to the window, staring out at the gardens below. The air was cool, and the flickering light of distant torches reminded her of how close, yet unreachable, the outside world seemed. A life beyond the palace. A life she had only dreamed of.

But what was left of those dreams now?

Elara’s hand tightened into a fist, a surge of defiance building within her. She wouldn’t let this be her life. Not this forced marriage. Not this future dictated by others.

The door to her chamber creaked open again, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The guard.

He stepped inside, standing silently by the door, his posture rigid. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension.

"Your Highness," he said after a moment, his voice still cold, but tinged with something Elara couldn’t quite place. "You need to come with me."

She didn’t move. "To where? The council chambers? Or another of my father’s endless plans?"

The guard hesitated, then gave a slight nod. "Yes. The council is waiting."

Elara’s chest tightened, but she straightened, turning to face him fully. "Tell them I’m not coming."

His expression didn’t change. "You don’t have a choice."

Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "I always have a choice."

The guard's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He wasn’t here to argue with her. He was here to do his job, to drag her back to the life she had no say in.

But she had a choice. A small, fleeting one, but it was hers.

For a brief moment, Elara considered her options. She could go to the council chambers, sit through another meeting that would determine her fate. She could play her part, do as she had always done, and let the pieces fall into place the way her parents wanted.

Or…

Or she could refuse. She could push back against the invisible chains that had always bound her, even if it meant confronting the very walls that kept her imprisoned.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and exhilaration flooding through her veins. It was now or never.

"I’m not going with you," Elara said, her voice low but firm. "Not today."

The guard didn’t react at first. He simply stood there, as though waiting for her to change her mind. But Elara didn’t back down. She met his gaze head-on, her determination hardening with every passing second.

"You can tell them I’m ill. Tell them I’m too tired to attend," she said, her voice steady. "I don’t care. I’m not going."

For a moment, the guard remained motionless, his face unreadable. Then, he took a step toward her.

"You’re making a mistake," he said quietly, but there was something in his tone that was almost... sympathetic? Elara wasn’t sure.

"Maybe," she replied, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline. "But it’s mine to make."

The guard took another step, now standing just a few feet away. Elara’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t flinch. She couldn’t afford to show weakness.

After a long pause, the guard let out a quiet sigh, as if resigned. "Very well. But you know this won’t end here. Your father won’t let this go."

"I don’t care," Elara said firmly. "Let him do his worst. I’m not going to live my life by his rules."

The guard seemed to consider this for a long moment. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Elara stood frozen, her heart still pounding in her chest. She had done it. She had taken the first step—tiny as it was—toward claiming her freedom.

But even as a rush of relief washed over her, she knew the hardest part was still to come. The battle wasn’t over. It had only just begun.

For now, though, in the silence of her chamber, she allowed herself a fleeting moment of victory.

The rest of her future would be hers to decide. No one else’s.

And she would fight for it—no matter the cost.