Name: Princess Noelle de Lancaisse

Gender: Female

Appearance: Noelle is taller than most of her female counterparts and boasts a svelte but modest frame. She walks on long legs with her head held high, giving an air of elegance and self-assurance wherever she goes, and a majority of her clothing consists of gowns of various colors, materials, and styles. She often dreams about the freedom of wearing men's clothing but feels chained by the restrictions of royal society.

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There is something unique about Noelle's expression. It is rugged and soft at the same time, as if the child within her breaks through the cracks of what the world has done to her. Her facial features are soft and refined, and it is no surprise that many find her attractive. Her hair is black and straight, falling to the small of her back before it is once more cut off to regrow. Her eyes are a beautiful bright blue color that hold many emotions, and she is said to be the only one who received her late mother's eyes and the fire that once dwelled in them.

Personality: Noelle has many, many levels, so it is very much about peeling back the layers to find her true self. She tends to keep to herself at gatherings, preferring her thoughts to the lack of meaning the world has to offer. She has a very large fear of settling for less than she or those around her think she deserves, and because of this, sometimes she will settle for nothing at all. She tends to be very extreme in her judgement, trying to force everything into boxes and into black and white, while very little in this world is. She is very imaginative, and with the right people she will be completely, one-hundred percent in. The majority of people, however, are kept at arm's length, far away from her thoughts, hopes, and dreams. It is common for people to think they are much closer to her than she thinks they are.

Other: her love life is a bit of a dichotomy due to her ability to fit herself into virtually any box. She wants someone kind, but she also wants someone strong and rebellious. She wants someone attractive, but she does not care about looks. The right thing will find her, but she may be completely blind to what that is. She has a tendency to brush off anything that may lead to vulnerability, and freeze out those that cause it.

Name: Warren Dyer

Gender: Male

Appearance: Warren has short dark curly hair. His hair isn't overly curly though and sometimes seems shaggy. He has sharp amber eyes that seem to hold no emotion. He has a chiseled face that stands out from the others. A scar has placed itself in the middle of his nose, stretching across the bridge from the left side of his nose to the right. It is a skinny yet noticeable scar, although it isn't huge either. He stands around 6'3 in height. He usually towers over others with his tall frame.

Personality: Warren doesn't like to please people. He likes to do his own thing when he wants to do it. However, he will do what he has to do. He is respectful and emotionless most of the time. He does have a cocky side which can make him flirty. (More in RP)

History: Warren has illegitimate blood. He doesn't express what caused him to be illegitimate but that doesn't change the fact that he is. He doesn't have siblings, well a few half-siblings that are actually royal but he barely knows them. (More in RP)

Airy footfall was the only noise in the deciduous forests that lined the castle grounds like a picture frame. The wind and the trees whispered about the girl as she fell further into the abysmal depths of the woodlands. The wobbly legs that had once carried her here, where her heart most longed to be, had grown stronger, longer, able to carry her with an unhidden confidence she lacked in her younger years. A girl akin to the grasshoppers and the fawns that roamed the premise had grown into her role as something more, something forged by fire, something legendary.

She was now more than just a maiden of the forest: she was the queen of the forest. Her crown was but the droplets of mist that fell on thick onyx locks, dampening her forehead and wetting long, girlish eyelashes. She gripped no staff nor dressed in gaudy jewelry, and she wore no wealth that had been obtained through bloodshed or other unscrupulous means. She was simply a being that existed among the wilderness, with the wilderness, as the wilderness. This was how she had won the regal title, not by birthright. It was not handed to her on a silver platter, as most things in her life had been. This was what made it so special to her. Here she was not a princess or the child of the king and the queen. She was not your royal highness or a prospective business venture for a neighboring kingdom. She was simply Noelle, and nothing else.

This particular day was much different than all the rest, which explained why the princess was tromping around the woods on such a dreary day. Typically, she was spontaneous in the most organized, systematic way possible, letting the weather dictate her activities for the day. If it was raining, she spent her day studying ancient texts, literature, philosophy, and other matters of sophisticated academia in one of the castle’s many libraries. Wisdom was perhaps the trait most commonly attributed to her family heritage, both attained by academic and supernatural means. Several of Noelle’s ancestors had been accused of being witches, and much of her childhood was spent in the woods wondering why she could not turn frogs into princes or speak the language of the finches flying overhead. Those days were long gone now, though glimpses of them still remained in the woman she had become. Her silent cunning was perhaps the most evident of the traits that remained, that had been branded into her by the universe long ago. That keen adeptness had gotten her in this predicament in the first place.

“State your name,” she inquired bravely, taking cover under the remains of a wooden fort that she had built with her brothers in a distant memory. Her bow was drawn, prepared to shoot if she felt imperilled in even the slightest way. Mist fell from the sky in thicker sheets now, dampening the wood-colored cloak she wore over her clothing.

“Imagine that we could postpone introductions and you could assist me in saving this young girl’s life,” called the voice in return. It was earthy and unwavering, and it immediately piqued Noelle’s interest. He had a very distinct accent that she had never heard before, and he used bigger words than any commoners were familiar with in this country.

“Who are you?” She called once more, tempted to drop her bow.

“I really would love to put the introductions aside and get some help,” he replied in that same tone, deadpanned with the slightest sparkle of humor.

Inching out of her hiding place, Noelle kept her bow drawn, walking slowly towards the sounds of life that erupted to the northwest of her. She sighed in relief, her eyes falling upon a golden-haired figure who was kneeling over a small girl. The girl had dark hair and in all ways held an uncanny resemblance to a younger version of herself. The princess swallowed, kneeling beside the man and noticing the soft rising and falling of the girl’s chest.

“Her name is Isabel,” Noelle informed him, gently cupping the girl’s cheek in her hand comfortingly. “She’s the daughter of one of the castle workers. She comes here often, but she’s not the most nimble. I would guess she fell out of a tree.”

The blond man nodded gently. “I am on my way to the castle on important business. It would not be difficult for me to take her with me…”

“Don’t,” Noelle exclaimed. Her demeanor quickly softened, melting into something placid and mysterious once more. She gave the man the gentlest smile, though her heart race had now increased--she had not realized that she would be late to her own ball. “I mean, I will take her. If the people at the castle see you holding her, they will make assumptions, and I fear you may breathe your last before we meet again.”

The man glanced up at her, meeting her eyes. A look of bewilderment flashed briefly in his blue irises as he wondered what she may mean by that. “I will see you again?”

Noelle smiled in amusement, tucking a strand of damp black hair behind her ear. The man was speaking to her with no pleasantries or the respect that her title would demand. He had simply no idea who she was, and while that idea was completely shocking, it was also refreshing in the strangest way. “Yes,” she countered, “at the date and time of our proper introduction.”

…

“Again, my sincerest apologies for my tardiness,” the raven-haired woman repeated for the nth time since her return to the castle. In her mind, saving Isabel had created a worthy excuse for said tardiness, but she was met with a difficult truth when she had stepped back into her position as princess at the edges of the castle gates. The lower ranks thought her noble for her kind-hearted deed, but the higher she rose, the less appreciation she got as it as replaced with chastising.

“Your mum might have both of our heads, so we’ve got to hurry up,” Istris giggled, lacing up Noelle’s corset and covering it with a beautiful scarlet gown. She was like a grandmother to the princess, having been here for so much longer than Noelle. They were very close, closer than Noelle was with any one of her family members.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her warm-hued eyes. She didn’t feel much like smiling. She was overwhelmed by the events of the morning and the storm was making her feel fatigued. The promise of a long, social evening made her feel hopelessly introverted. She didn’t want to put on the persona of the princess, she simply wanted to be Noelle from the woods.

On the other hand, she greatly enjoyed being her alter ego. The parts of her that were royalty were fully royalty, they were legendary. She was strong, confident, brave, witty, and carried herself in a way that demanded respect. She could have anyone or anything she wanted, and she was addressed with a certain reverence that made her feel powerful. Often she believed that her people had more faith in her than she had in herself, but she did not act in a way that proved this true. She was truly something impressive.

A little while later, Noelle found herself striding down the ornate corridors of her home, two guards beside her--ones she recognized as friends of her brother. Though she disliked the invasive nature of castle security, she hadn’t protested in any way, and found herself almost grateful for the protection. The king and queen didn’t approve of letting the princess carry a bow in the castle or anywhere else on the premises, and with so many strangers she didn’t trust, Noelle felt better with two strong, familiar men accompanying her everywhere.

“Miles, have you seen Austere?”

The guard shook his head. “Saw him the other evening at the pub with a red-haired lass, not since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, he and I have some important business to tend to,” she replied, glancing out one of the massive windows that was casting a gray haze into the halls of the castle. The caravan of carriages was reaching its end, giving the princess the first of many anxieties about the experience. She had been quick to give up her marital freedom for the good of mankind, and now she was feeling the slightest resentment. If she did not follow through, she would physically die, but if she did, her spirit would find its demise.

Entering the large hall, Noelle took a deep breath and strutted in confidently. Vaguely, she heard someone announce her, but her focus was on the blond from the woods. He was somewhere between pale as a ghost and red as a tomato with the newfound knowledge that the vision from the woods earlier was the princess. With a smirk in her eyes, she strutted up to him, offering her hand for him to kiss.

“Is now a proper time for introductions, Your Royal Highness?”

Warren. His father had gifted him this rancorous name. It was deemed to be a grant from the gods but it was a simply debased word that people call him. It had a tangy sentiment on his tongue each time he endeavored the introduction of himself. Was his name the rotten part or was it his last name? It all screamed misbegotten intertwined with illegitimate to him. A whore for a mother and a bastard for a father. He didn't consider whether they were blessed with the title of royalty or not. How he perceived them was how he perceived them. No excuses. When was a time he entirely appreciated them? Well, he could identify when the appreciation dissipated. It was when his siblings came into the world.

His fist bunched at the perception of his half-siblings who were pure-blooded royals. He had the urge to spit with revulsion every time. The sun was cloudless on that dismal day. There was no indication of rain in the atmosphere, yet the terrain was manageable and dank. The unshaven, blood-shot eyed man who had the repulsing title of father stood beside him. To his demise, he had no option but to be there. Warren's gloved hands tensed at the apprehension of his so-called siblings as they extended out of their carriage laced in gold, pulled by white gleaming horses. The brute-like horses wavered in eagerness, their silver manes bobbing side to side, yet they lingered in place. “Brother!” The burgeoning lass with abrupt shaggy black locks blurted. Even though she was in a dress hemmed in purple and pink, that seemed to take weeks to make, she vaulted over to him like a misplaced puppy. Her green eyes contrasted with her black hair. The audacity of this girl, not even acting royal. Better yet, she also threatened to call him brother. The scowl that illuminated from Warren's amber eyes made her waver in her tracks.

The next to exit the carriage was a naive man who had cockiness sullied all over his face. He was presumably the subsequent heir to this humble kingdom. By the expression he gave, he coveted nothing to do with Warren.

The foundation of that shameful recollection was a blur. It concluded with him discarded from the kingdom for designated harm on the immature prince who was his damn half-brother. Warren’s face was marked by the hideous beating his father coaxed upon him for maltreating his real son, or at least those were the words that slewed from the bastard’s lips.

He had left, on his way to a more prosperous kingdom, with nothing but his slick looks and regal attire. It took some time but he promptly gained sufficient wealth to acquire himself a salubrious steed.

----

Now here he was. Slim gloves lavishly caressed his knuckles. His suit adapted his muscular body faultlessly but it was unprecedented from the others. It was troublesome to comprehend the accurate differentiation but there was something peculiar presenting that that suit was made for his exact being.

He had been appointed to help with the competition that was commenced by the princess of the kingdom. He was diverse from the others, his unliveliness yet elaborate spirit would help form an excellent candidate to fight in the competition.

Warren tipped his fixture to the sky when light water droplets propelled down his face. Unlike the others, he rode upon a horse, his body fixated perfectly within the leather saddle. It was better than riding in a carriage your daddy apparently bought you. His palms slicked down his horse’s nape, allotting the mane to slip through his fingers. The chestnut coat gleamed even in the dreariness of the sky. The sound of clicking ornate hooves soon became drowned by distant thunder. The horse’s essence moved with Warren in a poised yet relaxed movement.

As the rain became troublesome, his suit grew wet but fortunate for him he made it to his destination just before the lightning settled upon the land. He slid off of his steed and handed the reins to a gentleman who was tending to the other visitor’s horses. In a swift motion, he delivered the gentleman a glossy token signifying the recognition of Warren.

No one else was entering the magnificent castle but him, unmistakably meaning he was late.

Inside, he carelessly strolled down the corridor like he was undeviatingly on time. Warren was the person to not gratify people, indicating that he refuses to dissipate his energy striding down this corridor in an attempt to be on time. He signaled to the guards at the door into the ballroom who eyed him like he was some scoundrel. The instant he entered the door, he didn’t alter his figure. He acknowledged he was tardy and that he was ‘some guy’ who had the impertinence to show up after the princess already made her entrance, showing apparent irreverence. He retained the chiseled, intense expression on his face. His hair seemed well-kept yet the downpour caused some kinked curls to slump in fragmentary directions. Droplets of water swarmed their way down from his hair onto the glossy flooring beneath him. His suit appeared sodden from the rain, his shoulders and back tainted with water, yet he was essentially dry. Warren turned in the direction of the announcer who nested alongside the entrance. They were about to declare his name. He stroked the scar on his nose in exasperation. He dipped his head and murmured several words to the announcer, forcing them to promptly shut up. The last thing Warren fancied was his name apprehended by all.

His shoes clicked against the floor as numerous people allocated their attention to him. His fingers went clenched to unclenched in a rotating pattern. He was the only man with gloves. Warren plausibly resembled a butler with these gloves but by the gaze he held, he unmistakably didn’t care. He could sense the stares of the men who meandered with their buddies in an attempt to figure out who the hell Warren was.

Warren ran a dense hand through his hair, making his glove insignificantly wet. As he neared the princess, who was dousing herself in the attention, he bowed his head in admiration and propelled past her. He didn’t arrange a complete bow where his head nearly encountered the ground like those other imbeciles induced upon her.

Most had the optics like commoners, lusting for the young princess Noelle. It was disturbing. Furthermore, there were the blondies who valued the Princess, making it laborious to recognize if they were doing it to seduce her or if it were truly sincere.

Warren didn’t intend to think negatively of every nook and cranny of the place, but ever since he was booted out from his kingdom, he had become serious and pestered with everything. Everything was a hindrance to him.

“I just can’t believe you’re doing all this,” the man countered, tapping the end of a riding crop against his boot and promptly wedging the item between his left boot and the wet breeches that clung underneath. Finding it rather dull to pace the study empty-handed, he retrieved the item as quickly as he had disposed of it and repeating the original movement.

“It’s for everyone’s good,” she sighed deeply, her back against the paneled door. Her arms were crossed and her eyes held a feeling of reluctance and surrender. “Except, perhaps, my own.”

“So you admit it.” A sly grin crossed his face. She rolled her eyes, kicking a marble towards him. One of the servant children, she presumed, had left it there. They would be ashamed to admit they had been playing in a restricted area, and the large heart that had gotten her into this much larger predicament led her to remind herself to bring it back down to one of the lower floors and hide it in a more obvious, safe location. He kicked it back with that smug expression still plastered on his face.

“Austere, you know how I feel--”

“If I’m not doing good, then I’m good for nothing,” he studied her expression, pausing briefly to do so. Then he continued pacing, feeling the crop’s detail in his fingers. “I do know you, Noelle, I think you forget this sometimes. That’s why I have agreed to this godawful social experiment. But you must remember, your happiness is my priority. There is no other way to state it.”

“And I appreciate that more than you know,” she replied, tracing the outline of her right eyebrow with a distant, glossy expression in her eyes. Austere couldn’t help but notice she had lost her spark recently, and he hoped that showing up a dozen or so foreign princes would revitalize her. The older she grew, the less like the child he had grown up with she became. This caused him to become more and more concerned about her, and about what she was seeing behind closed doors that was evoking such change. “But you must know, I am not afraid. I was born to do this.”

…

The party she returned to was much like the party she had abandoned. The men were socializing with callous expressions, putting their families’ names and legends of wealth between themselves and the arm’s length where they put each another. No one suitor, staff member, or otherwise seemed particularly enamored by the prospect of doing this for an interminable number of hours, nor did they seem well-acquainted despite the few that had come to pass. It was partially justified considering the unorthodox methods by which this concealed end goal would be attained. There were no other women to dance with or acquaint themselves with, there was no large crowd to get lost in, and the person with all the power--the one they had traversed so far to see-she was a woman.

“Remind me how long your little experiment will be going on for?” He whispered it lowly, in a hushed tone that was an iota away from repressed grumbling. His blond hair was wet, and it was unkempt in a half-combed sort of way. The image it brought to Noelle’s mind made the corner of her red-painted lips turn upwards in the slightest smile. He met her eyes, then took a second glance. “Who’re you smiling at?” He asked cluelessly, glancing around the room. He found a lot of eyes on the two of them, but none he believed she would be smiling at. At least not like that.

“It appears to me that you’ll be the one needing the extra security this evening,” she deflected, gesturing to the icy gazes that were directed on the man who had taken their prize away. She brushed a drop of water off of his forehead in an outwardly flirtatious gesture, looking to get a rise out of the room of suitors. She didn’t think about the consequences of doing so, it was an act of instant gratification--and thankfully not one she would come to regret. As she left his side to acquaint herself with the princes, she replied in an intentionally light tone. “I was smiling at you, silly. You look-” she hesitated, “adequate.”

…

“And that’s my thought on how a woman should act, I hope you’re not like the scum I’m used to,” the behemoth sneered, sucking down the contents of yet another glass of something Noelle did not recognize. It smelled awful, and it turned him into even more of a monster than his appearance did. Between beady eyes sat a bulbous nose, and below that, a mouth that seemed permanently etched into a sneer. The princess bit her tongue, regretting for the millionth moment her choice to endure this process sober. They were only a few hours in, and it was becoming exponentially more obvious that even a well-rehearsed plan such as this was enough to make anyone pick up the bottle.

Making eyes with Callen from across the spacious ballroom, she softly sighed and returned to the present, listing to the vulgar dronings of yet another suitor. She preferred no attention to the wrong kind, and by this point, after speaking to them all, Noelle would have rather locked herself away in a tower than consider the prospect of marriage to any of them. Seeing a flash of curly brown hair on a towering frame she was hesitant to recognize, the princess excused herself gracefully from the uncouth company she had kept diligently, praying to God that she would not be leaving one man to join one identical. Flashing the tall, picturesque figure a charming smile, she reached him in a few long strides, her eyes pleading for rescue more than her mouth begged for it. “Would you humor me and ask me to dance with you?” Slightly breathless and with glittering eyes, Noelle made no excuse for the lack of etiquette she had displayed. She had simply embraced it as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

I'm exhausted and didn't put much into this, I hope it reads right LOL. Feel free to advance to the next day or something if need be, I kind of just piggybacked off of your post because I didn't have the energy to double the length and continue on.]

Noelle had seen that look before, but never directed towards her. Her breath hitched at the intention of malice he displayed, heart racing. The assertive confidence she had painted on came off in one blow, and suddenly the princess was fearful of not only her security, but of the power people--he--had over her. Her eyes were doe-like and innocent as they studied him, and she made a mental note of needing to experience people’s unpleasant emotions more. Being not only royalty but independent, she realized in this moment that she only really dealt with placid staff who feared for their lives and jobs each and every time they encountered her.

The dissolving of such an expression undid the fear in her eyes, but it couldn’t return the color to her skin or the feeling to her limbs. On wobbly legs she approached, asked with a reassumed confidence, and no sooner had she asked did she find her hand pressed to his lips, which were still smirking. The smirk reached his uniquely-hued eyes, which she found herself lost in as he completed this formal gesture. Though she had partaken in hundreds of times, it felt oddly enchanting when he did it. She was unsure of whether it was the fear-generated adrenaline still coursing through her veins or if someone had slipped something in her drink, but all of her senses felt heightened, as if she were experiencing things for the first time all over again.

She found this tall stranger voicing her own thoughts with a candidness that was seldom seen, especially by people from the surrounding lands. Many of the other kingdoms had charisms of physical strength and of destruction and violence that they were somehow proud of. By the words he was using and the complexity of thought he displayed, Noelle could tell he was not one of these people. He had a certain charisma about him, an implied intelligence that made the young woman feel like he was a novelty, like she had made an exceptional choice in asking him to ask her to dance with him.

“Your sharp tongue is much preferred to those around us which are numb with liquor,” she countered, eyes sparkling with humor. Her gaze dropped to their intertwined hands, the connection between them gentle but existent. The slightest smirk fell upon her lips as she allowed him to take control of the situation. Assertion was certainly not something this room lacked, and like many times before, she felt her steps fall into rhythm with another’s, willingly being led to the dancefloor like a sheep to slaughter. The fact that this man was slightly more intelligent than the neanderthals that occupied the remaining space in the ballroom only went so far in convincing the princess that he was worth her hand in marriage: she wasn’t just looking for the least-horrible option, she was looking for a man who would match her on every level. Though she had been warned by Austere not to go into it with a closed mind, she found herself doing just that, willing the suitors to fight for her, and she had not obtained even the slightest morsel of success so far.

Her legs still felt shaky from the remnants of fear and she found herself clinging to his strong frame unapologetically. Typically, she would not have been so willing to put herself in a vulnerable position, but wobbly legs left her no choice. A sleepy smile remained on her lips, her body radiating an aura of gentleness. She resisted the urge to bat his hand away as he tucked her hair behind her ear, but was too preoccupied with the scar on his nose to truly react. Too many of these men desired her for her body, and not enough of them for her mind. She was certain there was more to love than this and was willing to fight until she found it.

“Who said I’m not relaxed,” she smiled that sleepy smile once more, watching him with a childlike wonder. It was far later than she typically stayed awake, and beyond that, her social battery was draining fast, if it had not already. She felt protected and warm in this stranger’s arms, almost drunk in the way Austere described it. Gently, she reached up, tracing the scar on his face with the hand that wasn’t wrapped loosely around him. Her eyes met his as he spoke again, and the smile returned. “And what is it that you think I’m focused on, if not you?”

Feeling the way he was gazing upon her with affection and focus she had never experienced, Noelle could hardly stand to look at him. The intensity between them was too much for her to handle, and she instinctively felt the desire to just be held by him, and to lay her head on his chest. She resisted the temptation of doing so, confident that they had already done enough to wreak havoc and was grateful for the shift in energy that occurred when a more lively song erupted from the musicians in the corner of the room.

Dancing with this handsome stranger felt like magic, and again she had the sensation of experiencing the world in a new light. The way he led her around the ballroom proved that he was solely focused on her and the two of them together. It was nothing like she had ever experienced before, especially not this particular evening. When men wanted to dance with her, they always wanted to dance to show off and asked her out of obligation. She typically found herself rushing to keep up and ultimately embarrassing herself, yet this was different--this made her actually enjoy dancing for perhaps the first time ever. She was typically quiet and allowed the other party to choose the topic of conversation, yet being in the presence of such an interesting and mysterious figure made her want to be the one to begin a conversation, to listen attentively, to discuss the mysteries of life as if speaking to a friend. She was not surprised that every time she took her eyes off of him she felt another piercing gaze, sharp and malevolent, and though he had been the first to inflict such an expression on Noelle, she felt safe in the present moment. The only lingering fear she had was of when she would be forced out of the protection of their bubble and back into the sea of men, alone once more.

She felt the change in herself and it drew a different kind of fear from deep within: she was giving herself away far too easily to a man whose name she had not even learned. When he drew her close once more, she welcomed it. She felt inwardly repulsed by her own actions but was too enchanted by the man before her to physically restrain herself from giving into whatever this was. Her blue eyes studied his expression as hers sobered, unsure of what he was going to say. She listened attentively and completely before nodding, slowly coming to the realization she owed it to him to verbalize at least a few of the words swimming around in her mind.

“I appreciate your concern,” she responded blankly, feeling completely and utterly speechless. Between the sleepiness that had slowly seeped in and the millions of responses she had created in her mind, she truly felt as if the words had been taken from her tongue and disposed of somewhere unattainable. She had never felt speechless before, and yet, here she was. Even now, she was convinced she would spend more than one evening rehearsing what she could have said and feeling repetitive humiliation for the lack of intelligence she displayed. And before she knew it, he was gone.

As another man pursued her, Noelle saw the man with the scar retreat to a lonely corner of the massive space, feeling instant regret that she had ceased to ask his name or learn anything about him. He made her rethink everything she knew about herself, and about the choices that her led up to this moment. Was this really what love was supposed to feel like?

While this storybook scene had been playing out, Austere had found his way around the room scavenging empty tables and consuming any alcohol that had been neglected by prodigal royals who had gone elsewhere. He had been successful in his attempts to push well past the limits of sobriety, though his actions were those of an abstinent man. He wore his liquor well, barely even slurring his words despite the goblets upon goblets of mysterious liquids he’d consumed. As the man who had been dancing with the princess retreated to watch the festivities from a distance, Austere felt his legs moving towards him without the consent of a rational mind. What he was unsure of was whether or not he was approaching him to protect him or to harm him as all the other men desired to. It was obvious by the tension in the room that there had not been a single eye that had not seen nor a single heart that did not harden with envy after the show the pair had put on. The scar-faced stranger was not even a competitor in this mastermind social experiment, and yet, everyone had already sized him up as the man to destroy.

Sulking over and sitting down beside him, Austere took a slow sip of a drink he had acquired, wincing at the taste. He glanced over casually, then returned his eyes to Noelle. “She sure is something, isn’t she?”

[That is okay. I will carry on into the next day. Your response is still amazing at always. It is hard to believe that you were tired when writing this 0.0 And Happy RO! I hope you got something good.]

Warren didn’t even notice Austere, his eyes kept sauntering about the room, following Noelle’s campaigns. He desired to address her again and slide his palm into hers, taking her someplace where they can be isolated. His eyes cringed from the young princess when he detected a voice with an alcohol rich tone. His eyes cinched on to the man hunkering beside him who wasn’t even concentrated on him. “She is not something. She is aspiring to be someone she is not.” He gulped after declaring that. Her peculiar yet flirty nature did catch his recognition but it was evident she has a different side to her. “I merely satisfied her yearn to obtain a sufficient man out of these fools.” He tapped his fingers. He grasped it was likewise a white lie more than anything. He wasn't the type of person to take his own time to persuade someone. He did it to satisfy himself, though he wasn’t going to say it, apprehending that approximately every man had a target on his back by now.

Just by the presence of Austere he belatedly felt a freeing of a burden on him. Warren almost recognized Austere but it was troublesome to tell. He let out a profound sigh and conceded his annoyances. “She deems me a suitor,” He babbled. Some of his curls tumbled in his face when he dropped his head in mere dissatisfaction. “I was hired by some manager to discipline these suitors, not be one. Yet I found myself gratifying the Princess.” He didn’t know whether the man before him was the manager or not, to him, he just resembled a suitor.

Warren grimaced when he brushed his scar. His scar was the most sensitive part of him, more emotionally than anything. Especially when someone other than himself touches it. He doesn’t know why but that was how it was. Why now had he recognized that the Princess touched his face, let alone his scar? It pissed him off in a succinct manner, though he was more sensitive about it than anything. That was the farthest thing he was going to distribute with the stranger before him. The last thing he wanted was one of his defects being comprehended.

He elevated his head, his eyes reaching the princess, but to his dismay, she wasn’t looking at him. “I understand she is going to marry someone else. The unpleasant fact is I know her eventual husband will likely ruin her. I anticipate she will marry one of those sick fellows in that crowd.” He cleared his throat. “By no means am I claiming her majesty. It’s just pitiful that her destiny has to go this way,” He narrowed his eyes into the crowd. He recognized she would never be his. He wasn’t a man in the competition. Even if he did win her over, she would unearth his illegitimacy and neglect him for the simple revelation of it. It was torturous knowing that, but nothing could change the fact of it. Warren knew what he had to do but it was last resort. He would have to concentrate on his job and not her. It may seem ignorant but there was more to it. Warren would administer the details later. “Please excuse me, I should be leaving by now. I require rest so I can start to train this coming morning.” He stood from his seat, gave a simplistic nod of gratitude towards Austere, and escorted away back into the crowd. Little did Warren know, Austere was adjacent to her highness and he could simply fess to the princess of Warren’s words.

He did his greatest to bypass Noelle but the crowd shifted so effortlessly. He ended up walking right past her, although he pushed himself to not endorse her. He traveled uninterrupted for the door. It was apparent people were delighted for him to leave. He was relatively satisfied himself as he advanced towards the doors he once entered. Rather than allow the servants to open them for him, he seized the door handle and freed them himself. He appeared pissed off by the way he wielded them open, though he still held his composure.

Warren walked away, refusing to glimpse back at the princess, who he found himself cherishing.

He had fled the ‘party’ early since he didn’t aspire to stay any longer. He wanted to shout with sheer anger but he restrained himself and kept his eyes upright. Warren embraced his chestnut steed, letting out a sharp exhale as he mounted. He gave an effortless nudge and his horse ambled forward, easing into a steady trot. “At least I will have her eyes in my life,” He meandered to himself. Even though the instinct was tugging at him, he still left.

----

Morning came faster than he had anticipated. He had awakened, gotten prepared, and cleaned up. He didn’t know whether the suitors were desired to stay within the castle or not. Even if he were welcome to stay he presumably wouldn’t.

Once again, he accosted the castle on his chestnut steed. He descended, allowing someone else to care for his horse.

He didn’t go inside on this fresh sunny day. The air was perfect for training. There was still the crisp daybreak mist in the air. He could already view the equipment being piled up waiting for the candidates to use. Not permitting himself to be proper anymore, he stretched his arms up in the air authorizing an audible exhale to glide out of his mouth. Warren then proceeded to slip off his suit jacket, flinging it aside. He wore a precise suit, although it wasn’t as distinct as the one yesterday, though it was nonetheless formal. He wore a sleek white tucked button-up shirt underneath the jacket. It showed his slim yet brawny figure. Warren wore slick gloves that covered his hands. His gloves weren’t long, resting just beyond his wrist.

He felt a sneer grow upon his face when he observed the first contestants exhibit themselves. He didn’t bother whether they arose from the castle or they merely reported within the gates. He was just here to be the mentor he was reckoned to be. He studied the group of men before him. They all seemed pissed at the apprehension of Warren. He was used to those types of looks by now.

Warren grimaced at the clothes they wore. It resembled commoner’s training attire. He didn’t foresee them wearing classy clothes when training but they could have worn something more adequate. “Enough with the looks. You see, I came because I will instruct you for the forthcoming competition.” He cleared his throat. “I will just leave it at that,” He glimpsed towards the castle, questioning if the Princess was awake yet. He was convinced she would scrutinize sometime soon. “Today I want to see your fundamental skills. Every man should know how to sword fight. So pick up a sword and get to dueling each other,” He motioned his hand as a king would with servants. Their scowls never ceased but Warren didn’t care. The men obeyed and clutched a sword from the equipment stash. Immediately, they thrashed their swords like kids would in child play. It was entertaining to view. Warren crossed his arms and had an extensive grin upon his face.

After a prolonged wait, the winner finally prevailed, having beaten all the other contestants. “Great. You all took forever now we will behind schedule,” He clapped his hands but it was evident the men were outraged by Warren’s cynical words. “Shut the hell up with your scarred face. I won out of everyone in this group! I am sure you aren’t as good of a swordsman as I am. You see. I will be the one to marry her highness and create sufficient heirs for this kingdom!” The winner shouted. His shouting was rather turbulent, making some of the servants in the castle come out to make sure everything was alright.

Warren stood there like he was completely confused. He should have grasped that someone would challenge him. “Oh…” His wide grin never neglected his face. “I didn’t know we were having a yelling fit. May I join in?” He strode forward, slicking a hand through his hair. “Tell me, soldier? Who is the stronger person? The one spitting the insults or the one taking the insults?” Warren’s voice grew tumultuous as he stooped over, plucking a sword from the ground. A group formed around Warren and the challenger. “You say you want to marry her highness? A woman of her level will never marry a man who swings a sword like an infant. A child can do considerably better than you,” Warren’s voice only grew vulgar. Anger was initiating his throat. Their swords contrasted with an explicit cling. Warren’s amber eyes gleamed with irritation that intimidated his opponent. The man’s sword movements were inflexible and radical while Warren’s were fluent and prompt. “A child?” The man expressed bitterly. “You look..you look like a child” A feeble mockery spilled from the man’s throat. He was desperate and it was apparent. “Child. Do I look like a child?” Warren laughed. “I would have to disagree.” In a vast movement, Warren propelled the man’s feet out from beneath him, accommodating the sword to his throat. “I look like a King,” His voice was pure frustration and anger, and he inadvertently spoke those words loud-mouthed because the contestants became agitated.

Warren sighed. This is why he didn’t like getting pissed off. “Keep training,” He turned speedily and walked away, tossing the sword to the side. He seized his jacket and slipped it on.

That aggression was louder than he predicted. He had a feeling the princess had seen most of it but he still hoped she hadn't.

(super tiny, but since these are more dialogue heavy, I figure it makes more sense :D didn't want to bulk this up with a bunch of unnecessary words just to hit a certain word count :)

“You have a very gratifying temper,” Noelle called amusedly as she stood in the middle of the hallway, watching Warren flounce off. Her arms were crossed over a scarlet gown, and the light of a nearby window poured down onto her, making her look like something from a reverie rather than reality. She smirked slightly, watching him turn around to face her. She couldn’t control the expression, and it suddenly fell into a childish grin: she was pleased to have caught him.

“Though, I suppose it would be correct to say it gratifies no one as much as yourself.” She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, her figure illuminated by the golden rays. Her eyes took on a color resembling brown or gray rather than blue in this light, and they held a keen gaze directed at the man standing several yards before her.

Heavy yet lithe footsteps echoed down the corridor behind Noelle, and though she flinched and turned, she called out a greeting before the man had even come into view. “Good morning, Austere.”

He scoffed, pulling a lock of wavy blond hair out of his eyes. His demeanor was playful and relaxed, and the princess was certain by his behavior that no one else lingered in that stretch of the castle. “How are you so good at that? Every blasted time.”

“It’s a gift,” she shot back easily, forgetting that Warren stood before her. Her eyes flashed with sudden alertness and she cleared her throat, her arms dropping to her side. Her body tensed slightly, focused on more important matters than jest.

“Austere, I assume this is your friend? The one from a faraway place I had never heard of that came to help with this...contest?”

“Yes,” his grey eyes flicked briefly between Noelle and Warren before decidedly adding a title of superiority when addressing her, “m’lady. Allow me to introduce you to Warren Dwyer, though we’ve hardly met ourselves.”

Noelle waved her hand in a dismissive manner, replying, “that won’t be necessary, we acquainted ourselves yesterday evening. Welcome, Warren. I hope your travels did not prove too tedious.” She paused briefly, before adding. “I was just on my way to take a stroll in the gardens. They are so beautiful this time of day and I could not resist myself as I gazed upon them from the window overlooking the training greens.” She glanced over at Warren, eyes glittering with a devastatingly gorgeous sense of mischief. The area of the castle she had pointed to was directly above where he had been participating in horseplay with the suitors rather than training them. “But that’s besides the point, isn’t it. What I mean to say is that I would be delighted if you both joined me, I have been meaning to find you both so we may talk about the matters at hand.”