nathanialroyale: (Devil told me too)

I have had prior novel events written for the Camarian Royal family for years as Camara has been far easier for me to flesh out. Well now it's time to suck it up and do the Royalian Royal family. So I started this, however, this post only goes to 3968 so it is part 1 of 3. 3992 is the opening year of my novels and where this well eventually end. This ends up being way more detailed then Nath's family...

This is Drefan’s family history.


Emperor Taj Royale was Drefan’s Great Grandfather.

Empress Consort Galina Royale was Drefan’s Great Grandmother.



Prince of Second Rank Talkran Royale is Drefan’s Great Uncle.

Prince of the Second Rank Ademar Royale was Drefan’s Great Uncle.


Emperor Stanislas Royale was Drefan’s Grandfather

Empress Consort Maral Royale was Drefan’s Grandmother.



Emperor Robert Royale is Drefan & Thom’s Father.

Princess of the First Rank Cermaka Royale was Drefan and Thom’s Aunt.


3189-3357 The Age of Spirits:

3315 – Talkran Royale is born to Emperor Taj as a Prince of the Second Rank, the child of an Imperial Concubine, with little chance at the throne.

3319 – Ademar Royale is born to Emperor Taj as a Prince of the Second Rank, the child of an Imperial Concubine, with little chance at the throne. 

3324 – Stanislas Royale is born to Emperor Taj and Empress Consort Galina as Heir Son to the Royale throne, garnering an instant dislike by his two elder, but un-inheritable, brothers.

3332 – It has been 8 years of Talkran and Ademar mistreating their brother, from denying him food to purposefully leaving him in the cold. His royal parents have yet to notice this behavior, too busy ruling.

3334 – A ten year old Stanislas, realizing that he must largely fend for himself against his brothers begins to have some of the servants teach him a much less honorable form of hand to hand combat then the swords play he is learning from the Palace’s Black Guards.

3336 – After another four years of abuse that has escalated to various attempts at murder of the Heir Son Stanislas, Talkran allows Ademar, Prince of the Second Rank, and his younger sibling to take the fall for their joint deeds. Talkran watches from the royal booth as his brother is executed for treason.

3340 Talkran attempts to discredit his brother Stanislas who appears to have not inherited the Imperial line of necromantic arts. This does concern the provinces, whose people worried that the Heir was not as bound to the Divine of Darkness, Honor and Undead as Talkran is. Defamed by this Stanislas must prove himself to the people and peerage.

3341 – The grave of Prince Ademar, which was instated in the royal cemetery, is found to have been robbed, and a rash of city graves have been dug up.

3342 – Stanislas has taken it upon himself to finish his training with the Imperial Black Guards and has successfully passed the Exams of Merit that both officials and ministers must excel at to become peerage. He is the first Emperor to have done so.

Summer of 3343 – The first flesh sewn body is seen following Prince Talkran in the bowels of the Imperial Palace. Rumors begin to circulate through the palace that one of the dead look like the middle prince, and Talkran becomes known as a 'Fleshweaver.'

Winter of 3343 Emperor Taj wishing to retire at 53, seats his heir in the Black Throne where Stanislas immediately forms the ‘Devotion’ with the Royalian people,  and this act ceases talk that the Heir is not bound with Lord Nanqa.  Forming the Devotion is a requirement to rule the Imperial Royalian Empire and to form this mental connection with every Royalian with an embedded crystal, the heir must be of the Fallen Arch-Angel Taedras’s blood. Without this bond, consolidating power of the Empire is near impossible.

3344 – Emperor Stanislas marries a Barazon woman of peerage, Maral.

3rd month of 3347 – Prince Talkran finalizes his plans, and gains the power to transform himself into a lich. He does not, however, let it be known he is now undead, and uses illusion spells to keep his human or living appearance.

5th month of 3347 – No longer afraid of any or all repercussions, Talkran murders his father once-Emperor Taj in cold blood, before vanishing the body. His laboratory and prison in the lower levels are ripped apart in efforts to find the Emperor's remains, but they cannot be found. Emperor Stanislas enraged in grief for his father and the possible desecration of the Prior Emperor’s corpse heads a military manhunt for his elder brother. 

6th month of 3347 – Talkran is at last apprehended, and according to Palace records, found guilty of murder, treason, and grave robbing. Emperor Stanislas would attempt, and fail to execute Talkran by the following methods: bathing him in acid, burning him at the stake, and finally dismembering him. The lich was known to crow with laughter during his death, and return from the dead-flesh rebound and laughing once again within weeks. It takes the threat of the Fallen Arch Angel, Taedras to banish the lich from Royale for good.

12th month of 3347 – The royal couple have their first child Daegal Royale, and with each Imperial first child it is the ‘Imperial Sacrifice.’ He is named shortly before the newborn’s spirit is returned to the Amaranthine River.  This is done by each Emperor in, “Royal subordination of the Heart in servitude to the Royalian People and the Lord of Darkness, Nanqa.”  A physical and painful display of the royal family’s loyalty, duty and honor to a people who would return said loyalty by offering their lives and undeaths in battle for the Empire.

3348 Emperor Stanislas makes the decision to have no concubines, which is abnormal for the reigning Emperor. He does this however to ascertain all of his children will be with his Empress and hopefully lessen the possibility of violent infighting between his children due to his own awful childhood with his half-brothers.

3351 – Robert Royale is born to Empress Consort Maral, as Heir Son to the Royale throne.

3353 Emperor Stanislas Royale heads a contingent of Black Guard in quelling rebellion among the Vivassians swiftly.

3355 Cermaka Royale, the Imperial couple’s only daughter and Princess of the First Rank is born.  Empress Maral was a distant mother figure, finding it difficult to show any emotion towards her children due to her inflexible attitude toward her royal position. This stifled maternal affections, and it was only her daughter that she genuinely enjoyed.

3357 Emperor Stanislas takes Imperial Black Guard forces into the south-eastern province of Hlukhiv to assist in pushing back Danu raiders from beyond the southern mountains that were pillaging Eolin towns. So impressed is he with the military excellence of the Black Guard that he requests that the Commander of the Black Guard personally instruct the heir when Robert is of age to live among them at the Citadel. 


3357-3368 The Age of Lilies:

7th month of 3359 – Princess Cermaka dies of Pneumonia at 4 years of age devastating her parents and prompting the Empress to publicly retire to her family’s estates in the province of DormuKai. She is only seen after this during the yearly Royal bloodletting ritual for good harvests. Robert is only 8 when he loses his beloved sister and he is hidden from the public by his father for his breakdown. He learns early that such shows of emotion are unseemly among royalty as he is now left alone with only his Father at the Castle.

10th month of 3359 The Dirian War begins for the Holy Camarian Empire with the northern desert lands. For the first time a treaty for peace is written between the two Empires who have off and on warred for three millennia. Emperor Stanislas is deep in personal grief and agrees to the twenty-five year terms headed by crowned Sovereign Joscelin I of Camara.

3360 – Stanislas refuses his Ministers once again on the matter of taking concubines and will not divorce his wife who he understands wishes to have no more children. The Emperor remains alone, not bothering his wife’s privacy. The Royalian common admires him for remaining faithful to his wife regardless. Unfortunately, the loss of his daughter and his wife’s withdrawal makes the Emperor that much colder, distant and strict to his heir and son Robert.

3361 Robert has been set to a strict regimen of lessons pertaining to the eventual taking of the Merit Exams since his sister’s death. This has been in effort to curb the child’s sullenness and fickle temper that has reared its head since Prince Cermaka’s death. ‘Where sadness is unacceptable there only remains fury as an emotional response to loss.’

3363 At twelve Robert has not inherited the Royale line’s necromantic powers and Stanislas relocates his heir to the Black Guard citadel where Robert will live among those who have returned as Undead to serve the Empire.  The Undead Black Guards will drill him on The Veziput Code, swordsmanship and military discipline alongside his Imperial history and Nanqaian theology.

Early 3368 – The Heir Apparent Robert Royale takes the Merit Exams during his 16th year and excels. His father Emperor Stanislas calls him back to the Imperial Palace at this time to begin to teach him how to run the Empire. The Prince has a reputation among the people as being a studious, dutiful, well composed royal who takes his responsibilities to the Empire as seriously as his Father does.

Mid 3368 Emperor Stanislas holds a formal ball at the Imperial Palace where the eldest unmarried daughter of each Minister in the main 6 provinces will be presented to the heir. He would dance with each one of them and spend time speaking to them that night before making his decision on which he will court.  Lady Lucina of the province of DormuKai, a fellow Barazon is chosen by Heir Prince Robert Royale.  A softer side of the royal is seen when he is with her, however per noble tradition they will not wed or be intimate until Robert ascends the throne. 

Late 3368 
– Emperor Stanislas imparts an important piece of wisdom to his son in regards to the Royalian throne, “To be an Emperor is to be an actor. Never show weakness or else someone stronger will try to take everything from you. They will deem you unfit to rule the Empire, and if you do make that mistake, use the Devotion to undo your indiscretion. The people will know no better…”

 (The Devotion or ‘The Kiss of God’ is a mental connection that has kept the people safe from Camarian magics that could have potentially brain washed them. It helped the people see through illusions, glamours, charms and other such tricks. It could also be used by Emperors for less than noble reasons. It could be used to make subjects forget any and all transgressions in the fixing of memories and could also be quite suggestive or manipulative of choices made.)

nathanialroyale: (Nathan)


This rambling stemmed from a discussion on how readers often sympathize with Villains who have either a sad or traumatic past or a past where they could have chosen to be good men even though they ended up being bad ones.

Of course, Snape was a center piece to other peoples discussion of this topic so I mention him at the end.


I’m writing my novels from two points of view, that of the characters considered the protagonist and antagonist, chronicling the protagonist’s short, gravely ill, life. Nathanael is altruistic, compassionate and forgiving. Drefan is self-destructive, rageful and biting.


Drefan my antagonist has a (to put it very lightly) shitty life and goes through hell before his mind snaps and he uses the necromantic powers he has inherited as well as the powers of his God to take revenge on the world :/ I do this because I want to know his story, where he was and what brought him to today. I want him to rage at his life and its unfairness, to curse the Gods and himself. Yet Drefan never once asks for sympathy because he sees it as pity and he’s too strong for that.

He refuses to allow himself to feel shame for what he has done after he regains himself and sees that his undead have butchered millions. He realizes if he starts on himself with guilt and shame that he will likely lose his mind again. He won’t ask for forgiveness because he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Drefan surrounds himself, on purpose, with those who remind him of his sins so he won’t forget because there are those who do forgive him regardless of his crimes.

I don’t really want to tell his story as a means of garnering sympathy for him, it would honestly piss him off I did so. Redemption isn’t something he is asking for, he hates that it is Nathanael’s forgiveness which is the last piece that finishes rebuilding his mind.(While this was happening others were piecing his mind back together so this ‘healing’’ does not actually depend as deeply on the boy’s forgiveness as Drefan is lead to believe and the reader knows this.)

He calls Nath weak and foolish for the forgiveness, walking out on the teen almost immediately afterward although Nathanael forgiving Drefan was the focus of the protagonist’s journey. Drefan remains angry and bitter, filled with rage at himself and the world and isolates himself in his own personal hell once he realizes what he has done. But he won’t ever say he is sorry because what difference would that make? Honestly? It won’t bring back the dead.

By the definition of Redemption by Webster I never give him that. It takes him until he’s 50 years old, 20 years post novels to let go of the past and the abuse that saw his mind break to pieces. Even then, stepping out of the palace confronts Drefan with what he has done when he sees the black roses that grow in the cracks of the cobblestone streets. Each of those black roses is a person he had a hand in killing, and the Capitol city is filled with them.

Redemption is atonement for guilt, to atone for faults or mistakes. What the hell could you possibly do to make up for the deaths of over 5,585,627 of your own people? Or of over 7,383,635 people worldwide? Nothing.

If anything it pisses off Drefan and confounds him when anyone forgives him for the Scourge War. He tends to think their simpletons for it (like wtf?)…heh

I don’t think a villain needs to redeemed, I don’t think a character’s past is only told for the sake of sympathy. I want to better understand each character, their motivations, and their pain. But understanding does not have to equal forgiveness.

On the topic of Snape, I could understand his past and still see his later choices as wrong ones. I could find him an intriguing character, feel sad for when he died yet still wish he had been a better man while knowing that he was not. Snape was a bitter and at times vile man whose choices made him who he was. The redemption of villains does not make them interesting characters in and of itself. Some characters, as was previously mentioned, may forgive the villain and many others won’t, much like the readers.

That to me is the most realistic outcome.


(And I know those numbers were like really fucking specific, I have done the math for war causalities and those were what I came up with. He killed over 50% of his own people and over 30% of the people of the opposing Empire. Dude done fucked up.)


Finally after 15 years of working on these two books (jesu?!) I have working titles!!

Book 1: Unrepentant Hopes
Book 2: Unrepentant Dreams

nathanialroyale: (Nilec)



On Average:
Cor'Terrae Has -

33 Hours in a Day
21 Days in a Month.
253 Days in a Year.
12 Months in a Year.

12 months = 21 days for 11 months, with 1 day added to the month of the Winter Solstice.
7 days a week (Which makes 3 weeks in a month.)
These numbers are explained in the Cosmology.

The Main Continent (The Known World) is in the southern hemisphere, with the deserts of the north-lands (Diria and Zene) at the equator. So the seasons and months correspond to a southern climate (As in Our Australia/South America/Africa.) Consequently, Summer is at the beginning of the year and Winter is in the middle of the year.


Yearly Calender


The separate Empire’s would have their own respective calendars, however, the Holy Camarian Empire is the center of the stories so the dates will follow the Camarian calendar.

The Summer Solstice and the First Day of Summer is Cynteya 21st.

Gorfanaur (Of Dry Hopes - The Celebration of The Summer Solstice and the New Year in Camara)

Gwanlote 21st is also the last day of the previous year, known as the ‘Longest Day’, and is an auspicious holiday devoted to new beginnings. In the cities, a fair takes place that celebrates the Goddess of Music, Rina Linn and the God of the Sun Nau'ar. Dancing is had and music is played in the streets and good will is a plenty in the cities.

In the towns and villages, however, so dependent on the leniency of the God of the Sun for their crops, there is little celebration and much veneration. The God of the Sun and Fire is known to as the God of Power and it is in his nature to be selfish and vain. If dances or prayers are given up they are made to Nau'ar only as these communities offer ritual sacrifices of some of healthiest cattle and sheep to appease him.

1st Month - Meheleire (Midsummer) Cynteya (Beginning of Summer)
2nd Month - Zwngahaf (The End of Summer)
3rd Month - Haeeren (Harvest, Named after Goddess of Nature)
Autumnal Equinox - Zwngahaf 21st
4th Month - Nn'harsal (Autumn, Named after God of Death/Souls)
5th Month - Hrethsos (Fierce Winds)
6th Month - Pyrmogae (Of Dusk, Loss of the Sun)
Winter Solstice - Pyrmogae 21st
8th Month - Gaesneira (Snow and Ice)
9th Month - Endelrhew (Last Frost)
10th Month - Neivorlyng (Spring Start)
Spring Equinox - Neivorlyng 1st of 2nd
11th Month - Matarshae (Rains, Named after the God of Water)
11th Month - Gwanlote (Blossoms Blooming)
12th Month - Cynteya (Beginning of Summer)
Summer Solstice - Cynteya 21st

The Winter Solstice is on Pyrmogae 21st.

Nostrildom (Of Night Stars - The Celebration of Midwinter in Camara)

The week of Pyrmogae 14th to 21st is celebrated as Midwinter by the Holy Camarian Empire with the 21st being the Longest Night, where The God of Light won over the God of Darkness. This is of religious importance to the day that follows, the ill-received 22nd. One candle is lit on the 14th in all homes that celebrate, and this pattern is continued until the 21st. On the Longest Night, there will be seven candles to protect the inhabitants of the home from the darkness and evil that will be most powerful that night and the following day.

The Goddess of Stars Clerics and Holy warriors all keep vigil from dusk to dawn each night of this week, kneeling before Sila Vor’s statue. Prostate they remain, with their heads to the floor upon cobblestone of her temple. There is a fast during these hours for these men and women who protect.

On the final night, the Longest Night of the 21st in the Imperial Castle the most beautiful Elven woman in the city is chosen to represent the Goddess of the Stars and Elves. Her face is hidden by a veil as the Goddess’s beauty is so, that no mortal can see it and survive. Wrapped in silks and lace, this Elven maiden plays her part and is nearly captured by the God of Darkness Nanqa, a man painted as an ebony demon. He dances around her, seducing her away with whispered promises and evil intent from the half angel who shines, representing the God of Light, Reinn Anon. This half angel who is the husband of Sila Vor protects the maiden from the Dark God Nanqa, capturing the loathsome God and collaring the demon, signifying that life is preserved and protected for another year.

Through the castle into the city streets the three parade, Reinn Anon protecting his beloved, shielding her and marching the imprisoned Nanqa to the Grand cathedral where Nanqa will be locked inside a man-sized cage. Cloth of darkest and thickest black will be thrown over the demon to re-enact the God of Darkness being vanquished and banished far out into the void where he could never return. The King or Queen would then lead prayers in thanks to the King and Queen of Heaven (Reinn Anon and Sila Vor) upon the balcony of the Imperial Castle and the evening will end with dancing and merriment.

As a Side Note: The celebration has been calmed by the Royal Family in the last twenty years, whereas prior, Nanqa’s player being a demon was not symbolic. The Church would find a demon born and force them to play the part, heavily collared, where he would be sacrificed inside the God of Light’s Grand Cathedral as a clear sign of Reinn Anon’s superiority and power over the God of Darkness.

Pynzanqa (Gate of Darkness - The Extra Day in Camara)

The most superstitious and feared day of each year follows on the coat-tails of the Winter Solstice in the Camarian Empire. Pyrmogae is the only month of the year to have 22 days, and many Camarians consider this 22nd day to be very ill luck, and most dare not leave their homes for fear of demons and the Dark God, Nanqa. If anyone must leave their homes they do so swathed in a cloak, with faces hidden by masks that were worn for the Winter Solstice celebrations the night before. These disguises are used to hide not only those who are afraid of being found by demons but also by those with ill intent.

As so few individuals are willing to go out on this day, the 22nd of Pyrmogae is considered a day of anarchy where abuses of the law are many: murder, adultery, intoxication, and theft abound. Holy Paladins of Reinn Anon’s Light are called to keep order in the many cities of the Empire throughout this grim day.

nathanialroyale: (Nathan)

The etymology of the word Monster reveals but one rather simple definition. According to Cohen, monster “derives from the Latin monstrum, a divine portent, usually of misfortune. Augustine [ … ] thought the Latin noun to stem from monstrare, ’to show’ ; Isidore of Seville [ … ] glossed monstrum as contra naturam and connected it to monere, ’to warn”’ (“Use” 48). Classicist Catherine Atherton slightly expands on monstrum, noting that “one of the traditional roles played by monsters-as the standard etymology of the Latin monstrum indicates-is to signal or presage event or advent, even more terrifying or violently destructive than the monster itself’ (vii). Thus, the monster is that which demonstrates or warns that something has gone-or is going to go-awry.

~ Monsters We Become: The Development of the Inhuman Narrative Voice.


The scene in which Nathanael heard his Father call him a Monster and an AU What If? Scene in which Nathanael confronts his Mother about his Father calling him a Monster.


"Yet something has to be done."
Leaning against his parent's door, Nathanael's ear is pressed against it to hear better the conversation taking place within.
"The council is becoming restless; politics are keeping us away more often. Who will care for him?"
"Thom is here, he will do his duty as his husband to look after him, it cannot be helped we are away so much Elaina."
"Yes with Thom he will be alright but...Can-," a moment's silence, "Can we really trust him around Drefan? What if Drefan hurts him again? I do not know if he would tell us." My mother’s voice held soft doubt.
"What could you possibly mean; he would, of course, tell us if he was in pain. Have we ever given him a reason not to believe he could?"
"Nay of course not but this is something else entirely. Earlier when I was cleaning his wounds I found a cut down his left arm, a cut that could only have been self-inflicted. His other wounds were nothing like this from Drefan."
"Our son is a cutter? Nathanael knows that he will lose the light of his spirit to such..
.perverse practices. He must realize without the light of soul he is only a shell, a..a Monster."
...I am?
A Monster...


"A Monster."
"You..heard Peter say that?" Elaina whispers to her only child, her hands reaching out toward the nine-year-old.
There is only silence as Nathanael's eyes fall to the floor.
The Queen gathers the boy into her embrace, "Sometimes those we love say things because they are afraid."
The Prince's eyes are filled with tears at his own anger, willing himself to banish the vile emotions
he was taught he should not feel. He looks up to his mother trying to hide how upset he was,"What have I done? I hurt no-no one but me! He's my father, he shouldn't be afraid of me!"
"He's not afraid of you
Nathanael, he's afraid for you."
As though that simple difference made the pain any less deep.


As Cawson, Andriano, and Cohen note, acknowledgement of the monster is a necessary step in human development because in all ways it is human...  Thus, a society must transcend the limitations of the past by discovering ways to include the unique until, ultimately, everything that is inherently human can be acknowledged and incorporated, including those aspects we often attribute to the monstrous in a misdirected attempt to exorcise ourselves of sin and imperfection. Monsters are the way to this transcendence.

Monsters We Become: The Development of the Inhuman Narrative Voice.
nathanialroyale: (Heart)

Rating: PG-13 for slight violence and swearing.
Pairing: Mallie(OC)/Leon
Disclaimer: Leon and Radiant Garden are not mine.
Extras: This is from a skit I dreamed of that took place while Leon and my OC Mallie were dating before they married and had their daughter. Timeline; it's about a year after KH2. Final Fantasy 8 background included in Leon's past, so he did have a relationship with Rinoa, she died but he did love her. This is a skit that would take place during an RP I am doing with a friend. It's quite cute ^^

In effort to not lose everything I have on LJ after they changed hands I am reposting old works on Dreamwidth.


The lanterns cast a soft glow over the festival in the marketplace. It had become a tradition that was held on the longest night of the summer, that a dance and market festival was held in the marketplace. Radiant Garden was safer, and the people celebrated this. Skirts twirled as women danced with their partners, laughter and merrymaking happening all around. 

Mallie gently tugged Leon’s hand, her eyes sparkling as she took in the area that had been set aside for dancing.
“Dance with me Leon?” she asked, emerald green eyes looking back to her boyfriend. It was nearly 2 months they were together now. 

Leon eyed those dancing and shook his head though he gave her a small twitching of his lips, his attempt for her of a smile.
“Go enjoy yourself.”
She sighed, though she had expected something of the sort from such a reserved man and nodded, her black curls being thrown back over her shoulders. She picked up the red silk skirts with her hand and moved away toward the dance floor. Leon stepped back leaning against the wall, just watching the going ons. 

It did not take long before Mallie was being twirled by another man, soft laughter leaving her, she seemed so vibrant. His brow furrowed, he knew he was happy to see her happy, yet part of him wanted to be the one making her laugh like that. But… A sigh left Leon and he stayed where he stood.

Four dances and she was breathing a little harder, though she was still enjoying herself. The dance had ended, another beginning and she was catching her breath. A hand pulled her close, it finding purchase on her rear end. Pulling her flush to a foreign chest, and a chuckle, a voice she did not know. She stiffened, her hand moving down to unsheathe the rapier she had at her waist on her belt, but her hand was grabbed.
Be damned!
She did not have the strength to get out of his grasp. Her heated, emerald eyes looked up to the man who clasped her closer, she could feel his breath in her hair. Her hand grasped his hard and she pulled back just enough to get a look into his eyes. Her heel came down hard on his foot, the spit leaving her lips to land in his eye. She was not going to man handled ever again! The nameless man swore angrily in response, his hand raising to backhand the woman he held.

Leon had stood up as he saw the man grab Mallie in such a way, pulling her flush to the stranger. His brows furrowed deeper, his eyes slitting. Stepping away from the wall he moved onto the makeshift dance floor, around couples. His steel grays burned with a quiet rage, and his hand managed to grab the arm of the other before it could strike. Mallie was trying to pull away to get out of range of the incoming blow, but the stranger held her arm hard. Hard enough to bruise. Leon grabbed the man’s arm in his left hand, his right flying forward in a fist, connecting with the man’s face. Landing a solid punch that caused his own hand to go numb, the other man stumbled away. 

“Get the hell away from her,” Leon growled out and he took in a deep breath to calm himself. It had been natural instinct, he had not even thought about the path of his feet or his defensive actions. Pure instinct. 

Mallie watched the foul man stumble back and her lips dipped into a grin, though she grimaced at the pain in her wrist. Oh, that was definitely bruising, look at the pretty colors. But her arm is picked up, but far gentler this time by leather-clad hands.

“That son of a bitch,” Leon mumbled and suddenly she was in her boyfriend’s arms. 

She smiled hugging him back, “I’m fine Leon, though thank you.”
Leon nodded stiffly still holding her close and she shook her head, “Well you? Now?”
Her fingers clutch his white shirt and she pulls back a little to look into steel gray eyes.
“Dance with me?” 
Leon’s brow’s furrow again and she sighs giving into begging, “Please?”
The brunet gives in at last and concedes, nodding his head. Shifting hands so he is in a position to dance with her. The next few moments are of silence as they dance, and she shakes her head, “Why were you so unwilling? You dance fine.” 
Leon shakes his head once more, “It’s not that. I do know how to dance. But I have not in a long time.”
Mallie is twirled away, and twirling back into his arms she cocks her head, “How long is a long time?”
“9 years.”
“Oh…is it a good memory?”
It does not take as long as she had supposed for him to answer, “Yes.” 
Mallie’s lips dip into a smile and she leans to him, whispering in his ear.
“So then you loved?”
The question was oddly put but he understands what she implies, his eyes close, and he wraps his arm around her pulling her gently, flush to him.

Mallie nods, it was enough, he spoke so little on his past. It was enough. Maybe someday she would learn this other woman’s name. Perhaps not, but it didn’t matter. 
“This shall be a good memory too, with its bumps along the run.”
Leon’s lips raise into a soft, real smile.
“It will be.”
nathanialroyale: (Default)

Hello! I am Nathanial and this is where my writing and sims stuff is!

Novel Writing and Short Stories of Cor'terrae in Chronological Order are Here
The World of Cor'terrae has a Website!
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This journal is public and you don't need to add me to download or browse, though I will more then likely friend you back if you friend me! I love comments, and especially constructive ones! I will always try to reply as communication is a two-way street.


Painting Recolors


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Read about the crazy Miranda Family )


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nathanialroyale: (Dance)

Title: Drefan Returns home...
Rating: (PG)
Content Notes/Warnings:

Mentions of past spousal and possible child abuse.

Main Character/s: Drefan Royale, Robert Royale
Plot: After having been gone for over a year in the northern deserts, the Prince has returned to home.
Location: The Imperial Royalian Palace.


“You worried her.”

A thick swallow, leaning forward on the fencing that was a surround for the spar taking place in front of them. Hands curl around the edging, the slivers digging into his hands as Drefan keeps his silence.

Robert continues, “Aidna thought you were dead for over a year. She would ask me continually if you were still alive. ‘Tell me you can still feel his life-force through the obelisk.’ Your mother prayed for you faithfully.”

“So?” the word is forcefully controlled, and the rest of his response is through grit teeth. “Did you strike her this time to make her stop asking about me?”

The King turns completely from the sparring match behind him, leaning his back against the fence. Arms cross before his chest in a relaxed pose, not even looking at his eldest son as he answers.

“It would not have stopped her. She’s in the grove, as she always is.”

Drefan pushes himself back from the fencing by both of his hands, done with this tense returning conference with his father. He was stiff as a board from being back at the Imperial palace where his life had been hell. The Prince of the Blood made a move to leave and Robert reaches out, his hand a flash. Meaty digits grab the nineteen-year-old by the back of the neck.

A calculated squeeze.

“You were gone for almost two years, Drefan. Did you let that time shorten your memory? I am still your King. You will speak to me as I deserve and show the respect due to me. Do you understand?”

A discordant breath escapes parted lips, eyes wide and staring ahead at nothingness whilst fists at Drefan’s sides shake. But the son gathers his words and they come forth quiet and with as much dignity as the Prince can muster in an effort to hide reborn terror, “Yes. I remember.”


nathanialroyale: (Nathan)

Title: Separate and Yet the Same
Rating: (PG)
Content Notes/Warnings:

The Ellearn on Cor'Terrae are considered a different species from humans, not just another 'race' as that moniker is to be used within a species to denote by geography or other differentiates. Thus, this different species has many unique physical aspects, but remain humanoid enough for children of both species to grow up among each other rather easily.

Warnings: None.
Main Character/s: Sir Castillean, the Commandant of King Joscelin's Sovereign Guard, and Lady Yara Sallis the newest, and youngest Sovereign Guard.
Plot: Yara having been brought up among human orphans of the Danaigh culture knows very little about the various cultural practices of her species, and finds that she must be educated upon them often.
Location: The Castle of the Capitol City of illander.


Yara had only meant to knock, she had not known that her Commandant’s door was not fully closed, and that pressing against it to knock would slip it open. She had stopped once the deed had been done, tilting her head seeing through that open-sliver, that Castillean’s back was turned, with his coat, and shirt off, before the mirror.
Neither had the young Ellearn expected to see the beautiful vine of flowers that appeared as though it grew from the very flesh of the Commandant’s shoulder, trailing down, and obscuring a nipple. Confused, Yara had taken a step back from the private scene. But blue eyes in the mirror fixed on the door that had partially opened, “Is someone there?"

With a swallow, bucking herself up, Yara truly knocked, opening the door the last of the way, "Commandant, Sir, I did have need to speak to you, however… I can return…"

"Nay, it is alright, I will re-dress myself, give me only a moment.”
Yara knew that she should have looked elsewhere, but the foliage fascinated, and yet, horrified her all the same, and she could not draw eyes away, her cheeks dusting red at her own impropriety.

The elder Ellearn had moved to his bedside, picking up the gold, and black stripped under-tunic of his uniform. Straightening, Castillean looked to the newest member of the Sovereign Guard, and he stopped, holding the cloth to his chest, making no move to slip it over his head.
“You have never seen our Garden Grafting, have you?” his voice has a gentler-ring to it now, and this only causes the blush to increase, as it was the tone Castillean used when he was to educate her.

“No…” Always the orphan was reminded how different her past had made her, how growing up in the capitol ghettos had denied her the heritage of her people.

“Would you like me to explain Lady Yara? You may touch them if you wish, and I will teach you how the Mellael learned to Graft leaf to flesh, and how many have become a walking garden of epiphytes. I realize, I do, that many of our practices appear so outlandish to you, as well as unknown, and I do not expect you to come into any of them easily, however, you should know…”

Yara Sallis would take in a deep breath, stepping into the Commandant’s room fully, softly closing the door behind her, and her hands clasp behind her back to stay straight, and tall.
“I have come to realize quite starkly that I know very little about my own species sense I have been accepted into the Sovereign Guard, Sir. Castillean, and I cannot say everything that you, and Sir Armeludon have done, or will do, makes very much sense to me… But, I do want to learn, and those lilies, well they are very lovely,” she gives a hesitant little smile.

Always was the young woman willing to learn, and to try to understand, even if she would never partake, because these rituals may have been hers by blood, and breed, they were not hers by rearing. She would always be of the Human Capitol City, and the Danaigh orphans she had grown up beside, regardless of the unique physical qualities of her Ellearn species.

“Thank you, Lady Yara."

Castillean laid down the tunic on his bed, "Come, sit with me, you can bring up what you also needed to speak of with me as well, whilst I teach you a little…”
The female Knight would nod, following her superior to the small two seat table. It was at times like these that she felt adrift at sea, surrounded by those who she should have seen as brothers, and sisters, but could only see as a separate, and remote peoples that for all intents and purposes were utterly alien.

Yet Yara had promised to keep an open mind, and an open heart to the traditions of the species that she had been born of, but had never, and would never truly be a part of. So she listened, and she just for a singular moment wondered, ‘Would such flowers look so beautiful as part of me?…’
nathanialroyale: (Nilec)

 Inevitable Lastingness - Part Two
Rating: This Chapter is PG, Later parts will be Rated Higher.
Content Notes:

The life of Naerdiel, who would later become Nilec, the adopted daughter of the Camar'ian King. She who was the woman who seized the Dirian throne through her powers of prophecy, and who became ruthless enough to cause the man that loved her to break and fall to insanity. Shaped forever by her past, and twisted by the world she had to save, at one time, she was but a child. It's time that her story gets told.

Elearn of Camar'a are adult around 200 to 250 years of age. Adolescence starts at 130 to 150. Anything before then is considered a child, if that Ellearn child has had a normal upbringing among their own kind.

Part One

Warnings: Disturbing imagery.
Main Character/s: Naerdiel (Nilec)
Plot: Naerdiel's visions begin.


Haeeren naw Spiritus 

(5:9 3250)

Spinning, and twirling, the Ellearn child had been dancing that day. Dancing in the old places, where the trees talked, chattering, and singing their beautiful songs. She had been enveloped in their sound, their voices in her ears.

‘It’ had stolen her breath away, and she had fallen into the cushioning grass, and leaves of the forest floor. Her eyes rolled back, her body beginning to convulse, fingers twitching, grasping with futility at the plant-life around her. The Ancient ones in unison had spoken of her anguish, confused and worried, their branches reaching toward her. 


When next the child woke, it was to her mother's stricken face, tear streaks down both of her parents cheeks. Her mother grasped her to her breast, and her fathers fingers ran through her hair. But Naerdial did not understand, she hurt, and felt as though she had run for ages now.

What had happened? 

Those who knew all in the eyes of their children, did not even know.


Neivorlyng Dwy ar bymtheg Spiritus 

(9:17 3253)

‘It’ would happen with far more rapid frequency now, and Naerdial’s parents had noted that her mind would be stolen away during both quiet moments, and frantic ones. She was not allowed to leave the house unaccompanied any-longer. No more climbing of the trees, as she could fall if one of the fits seized her. No rough housing either. So the young girl would read instead, and truthfully, she did not mind reading, yet she missed the sun, and the feel of the tree-bark under her fingertips.

Mother and Father were always busy, and she was an only child like most Ellearn. At last Naerdial slipped away on her own, hoping that she could dance beneath the canopy without suffering one of the fits. But ‘It’ happened again, her body betraying her. She fell into the roots of one of the Ancestor trees, taken away from the here and now. Visions grappled with her mind of darkened skies, purple clouds drenching a weather beaten path. Glass laid there, shattered, on this steep hill-side, where a figure pushed it's self up, feet torn, and bleeding. Only as the child saw this scene did another figure form in the stranger’s place, mirroring one, then another, two beings within one body.

But Naerdial cried out, thrashing, wishing away these terrible images that horrified her young mind, and at last there was a calming embrace. 

"Let yourself go..." the words were not really spoken, they weren't actually heard by her ears, but by her Thi'es, her soul. Unable to do anything more to will away the terror, Naerdial let go, falling through the Abyss so endless. Yet flowing trails of light and energy speed past her, with sparks of other souls swimming around her too, and even though she did not understand where she was now, there was an overwhelming sense of peace.

Still too young to comprehend that the very arms that embraced her were of life, of creation, and the very essence of the Heart World, the prophetess cried. But at the world’s center, The Dreamer swirled, keeping the world spinning. This ancient being wished only to teach Naerdial to dance once more, here, outside the body that the girl would come to hate so furiously.

In the core they spun together, her enveloped within the world’s serenity.

In time the child grew tired, and she was instructed tenderly, "Shh now... Sleep..." This escape would feel like only a moment for the girl who would become known as Nilec in her later years. These visions would return, and they would define her destiny, as nearly every decision she would come to make would be influenced by them alone. 

This refuge, detached from fate and time would not be forgotten. Naerdial as she realized where her soul had fled that one afternoon, gained an internal sanctuary to the external agony.

Spinning forever.
nathanialroyale: (Nathan)
Title: Anoush, Child Avatar of Nanqa
Rating: (PG-13) 
Content Notes/Warnings:   
20+ years past the events of the novels, the Lord of Darkness has had his soul be born in the body of a girl child, and has grown up with her. He has done so in his wish to understand his peoples, and to live as they have. [Also, the Lord's enemies would never think he would take the form of a child, as such a form is it not?]

Warnings:Battle scene
Main Character/s: Anoush, Varteres (Anoush's Father,) and Lord Nanqa, God of Darkness/Honor/Undead.
Plot: Uncontrolled undead, remnant of the Scourge war many years ago, attack a small village in Royale. As the guards are losing, this little girl takes the chance to make the difference.
Location: The Village of Taschair, Imperial Royalian Empire.


The Master-less undead had attacked the gates of the small town of Taschair. Overwhelmed, many guardsmen had died, and those still standing had suffered tremendous damage from both, teeth, claw, and magic. 

Breaking into a run, escaping the confines of her father’s embrace, the little girl moved un-noticed toward the fray. A guardsman’s agonized scream as his arm was torn to shreds had been the last that she could take to hear. Tiny feet made little noise as found herself at the battle’s center. Throwing herself to the ground at the feet of the most powerful of the undead, her voice broke upon the syllables of the incantation.

Barely heard above the den of the clash, blood began to run from the child’s nose as she sank into the mud in her ribbons and dress. It was the rain that had begun to fall that brought the fight to a stuttering stop, slowly petering, a hiss filling the air. Like acid, the divine rainwater hit the flesh of the undead, steam escaping into the skies with their screams of agony. Flesh began to disintegrate from the effects of the spell, trapping the monsters where they stood. 

The rain washed the living with healing magics, wrapping about those alive and those dead. That same purple luminescence picked up the dead from the ground, suspending them as it flashed through the layers of dress before settling them back upon their feet. All of those who had died, awoke, their eyes popping open, and lips gasping upon their first, returned breaths. 

Around a man’s destroyed arm, the purple light encased the flesh, and filled the terrible wound, reforming bones and muscle, nerve and tissue. It was not pretty, nor was it painless, and the act blacked out the man who had a sheer scream upon his lips. 

Nothing was left in this muddy field to mark that the undead had ever been there, and the newly living starred, in such a mixture of awe, and terror at the realization of their second chances. The earth around them seeped of blood, gorging upon this feast that would strengthen it in the years to come. But that purple luminescence had not left, it wafted like fog about this place, a substance known for its Resurrection of the loyal dead.

Yet, lastly laying there at the heart of all of this was its propagator. The father had run after her, but had been pushed back by the power, like a wall of force he could not push through. But here, now, on her front in the blood was the little girl in her pink dress, her hair still done up in it’s matching ribbons. He falls to his knees by her side, gathering her bloodied form into his embrace, crushing Anoush to him as he heard her faltering, but living breaths. No more then seven, her face had been half hidden in the bloodied ground, stigmatized by her Dark God so the battle could be won. 

The Avatar of Lord Nanqa, lived another day, but would need many to recover, and shakily, the village Butcher presses a kiss to her bloodied brow. Up now, he makes his way back toward the village, wishing to spirit her away to some semblance of safety. It does not surprise him, however, when, later, the many guardsman come to his home. No, they know now who, and what this seemingly ordinary little girl is, and all he can do is be by his daughter’s side as they kneel before her bed. Their heads touch the floor in reverence, and Nanqa’s name is a litany, her own only following long after. To the people, to this world, his daughter is Nanqa incarnate, and because of this he will always wonder, would anyone ever see her as his little girl? 

Anoush, the child who loves to learn, the girl who tells him not to be afraid when she does something reckless. Who also, tells him to always trust in their Lord, and gives him the brightest, and biggest smiles. Oh, this child may indeed hold the soul of a powerful God within her, but she is still her mother’s daughter, and will always be her father’s, everything.

nathanialroyale: (Scream)
Title: Love is never gentle, and Grief gives way to Hate.
Rating: (Heavy PG-13) 
Content Notes/Warnings: Ending of the First Novel. Character Death.  

My brother died yesterday in real life. Drefan has lost his, so I let him speak of his loss so maybe I can understand my own.

Warnings: Death.

Main Character/s: Nathanial Peter Quele Royale, Thom Antsrev Royale, Drefan Robert Royale
Plot: When Drefan loses his brother Thom, everything follows into a 3 year night, where Gods fell to mortal suffering, and their minds broke as easily as those they had labored to defend. 
Location: illander castle, illander city.


Wasting away, that was the hardest part of it, watching him die. I had thought the knowledge that his death was on my hands would hound me far worse then this, the physical representation of it all. But no, the wheezing breaths, the shut, dull eyes were much, much worse. 

The grey pallor that would give way to blue, the poor circulation that Thom already had only making the transformation from living to dead that much quicker. Nathanael is whispering to him, clutching his hand, making promises, as if the future matters at all. 

My grief has never been easy, it has always transformed itself into something more, the bitterness twisting it into rage. Always I would attempt to shift the blame, to put that hate on someone else, anyone else but me. If the grief turned to rage, and rage into hatred, I could push away all of these actualities.

Thom was going to die today, and I could blame everyone under the sun, but that wasn’t going to change the fact that this was going to destroy me.

I’ve never been a happy person, my people call me their ‘Bitter Prince’ for a number of reasons, and it was in his smile that the rays of hope shone. But there would be no hope, no dreams, not after this. I was the last one of us, father - deceased, mother - deceased, and now Thom who die as well. 

Where did that leave our people? 
Where did that leave me?

I feel it before I see it, as my eyes are starring at the infirmary wall, and I force myself to look down as Nathanael begins to cry, head buried in my brother’s chest. 

It’s done. 
It’s over, and I’m alone.

My head snaps up, as agony wracks through my mind, and that voice, that comfort I have depended upon for these last three years is panicking. The breaths that come are faltering, stuttering as I feel myself rise from Thom’s bedside. The darkness envelops me once again, and I allow myself to snap free from the tethers of this reality. 

It looms below us, the Abyss, and this time I do not feel it as my body rears up from the bedside, back hitting the wall as shudders wrack every one of my limbs. Digits have dug into pockets, and the black diamond nearly spills from my fingertips as it is loosened from the material coverings. 

Held up now, I can see the black diamond sitting upon my open palm over my brother’s body and my lips open. Yes, the words are my own, and yet they are not only mine, two voices leak free, and they overlay the words that we need to say.

“I won’t be left behind. I won’t be made to be alone. These are not my sins, I will not be damned! Purple skies…and broken glass…”

Endless seas and memories of the past,
Purple skies and broken glass,
Shattered minds, where there is no rest,
Hatred and grief, that breaks the best of us.

Thom’s soul rose from the body on that bed, a ball of glowing white light. It would be captured then, filling the black diamond. Never be alone…

In a moment of control, and with such reverence and tenderness, contrary to the way my body seemed to quiver and jerk, would I slip that diamond away into my pocket. Safe. 

With that act complete we surged forward, around the bed, and our darkness did not only crawl its way up our limbs, no, now it wrapped around us in flames. Black leaking purple, climbing and falling as the infirmary melted away into the castle’s main hall. 

They would scream, and they would beg and plead, they would know what it meant to lose my brother, my mother, and the people I had only ever wanted to defend! 

All there was now, was that hypnotic fire, rising into the night that had eclipsed this noontime sunlight, taking with it all that stood in our way, all that brought us to this day. 

Enraged yells, and so many screams.

Laughter fills the air, a maniacal sound, the laughter of the deranged, and it’s owner… its progenitor is me.


nathanialroyale: (Nathan)

Title: A Shell
Prompt: Was there a night when Peter held that dagger over Nathanael while he slept contemplating the murder of his own son? Yes.
Rating: (PG-13)
Content Notes/Warnings: The contemplation of the murder of a minor.
I wanted to have Peter's POV on his understanding of his son being spiritually dead and all that was left behind being a Shell. 

Main Character/s: Peter Quele, Nathanael Peter Quele Royale


It was late, past midnight, and Eliana slept in their bed upstairs where he should be sleeping beside her. But instead, Peter stood on the left bedside of his only child, his heir, sweat forcing him to clench harder on the dagger held in his right hand. It held an intricate blade, ceremonial, and meaningful, as the dagger of his Hara.

Peter worked at the lump that sat in his throat, the one that had not left him as long as he starred at what had once been his flesh and blood. Now? No, all that laid before his sight was a shell, the body of the son that struggled to bring in each and every breath in his sleep.

Peter’s lips trembled as he recited the liturgy within his mind one more time, hoping the words would give him the strength he needed to bring down this knife and finish this night.

Reinn Anon,
Oh, Sovereign Angel
Give us the strength,
to make the right choice,
even at the cost of our blood.

Forgive us,
he who freed us,
from our sins.

He who loves us,
have mercy upon us,
mortals of sin.

But it was not enough, and his certainty fails him, and Peter shakes his head. It was a mercy to not only the child but to them all, to rid the world of thissomething, lost to the darkness. Yet, even as a shell, this being had the body of his son, and he knows he will go mad when the deed is done. He already knows his wife, and his consort will never understand, and what little strength he had in this task is sapped from him when he sees himself alone.

A shaking hand claws back through his blonde hair and his blues are clouded by tears as he tries now to leave un-noticed. Not tonight then, but this had to be done, eventually, because all that laid there in that bed was a shell. There was no soul left within it. That spirit had been lost as the boy opened his own flesh, allowing the light that resides within the breast to disperse into darkness.

The blade falls to be lost in the rug by the bedside as Peter stumbles backward, and he braces himself upon the wall. That same wall of tree and cloud that he had painted beside the boy that laid in that bed, sickly. He had failed his God, and now he failed himself because of his inability to imagine life without his wife, and lover both. So the shell continues to sleep and Peter is able to leave the child’s room quiet enough that Nathanael does not awaken.

In the cabin’s hall Peter watches his now empty hands shake, and he catches the sob that tries to escape and break the night’s silence. He looks back, a hand curling around the doorknob and he pulls the door closed upon on the nine year old who continues to sleep, unknowing of what his father had nearly done to him.

There was a scream that was forcing, pushing its way up and through him, gagging the King who tried to remain quiet in his movement as he fled. Out through cutting brush and tangling root, he muzzles himself with clenching fingertips as he falls to his knees.

Reinn Anon
Forgive me,
for my sins.

Forgive me,
my weakness.

Into his hands, the noise is caught, strangled in its shame and agony. Head bent to touch the forest’s floor, Peter wonders what now? What now will he do?He is sorry, but not for himself, no, he is sorry for the child he failed, for the shell he could not kill.

So sorry,
so very,
very sorry.

nathanialroyale: (Nilec)

Title: I Hate you for your Love, and I Love you for your Hate.
Prompt: I despised him for his kindness.
Rating: (PG-13)
Content Notes/Warnings: Twisted relationship dynamics.
This was a look into Nilec's psyche in-regards to her hatred of the man that loves her so gently and intensely.
I wanted to write out and rationalize why she despises James for his kind words and noble qualities.

Main Character/s: Nilec, Quele, James Red Rose Quele Cross
Plot: Love and Hate are opposite sides of the same coin.
Location: The Northern Deserts.


A tool was not supposed to have human qualities; the rock hard bones she could feel beneath her fingertips were only a part of the monster she was meant to use. She could not allow the far off and forgotten softness enter a frozen heart. Watching him interact with a villager’s child, the smile that lit up his eyes brought further light to his handsome and noble qualities. But then she remembered herself and shook the sentiment aside, he was meant to be her instrument and she could not let her emotion sway her from using him.

Nilec had to remember that his life meant just as little as her own. The Gods had not factored in love or emotion, and she felt contempt for the vampire that made her feel.

Nilec despised James for his love, for his kindness, and his care. Having his hate would have made what she had to do that much easier, in tugging the leash she had crafted for him out of seductive hopes and dreams. But the man who was supposed to be a monster was far too emotive, breaking into pieces in front of her eyes. What could she, the already broken, do? It was easier to despise and destroy then to love what would be twisted by her hands so very easily.

I hated you for never fighting back; I hated you for all the kind words you ever said. I hated that you loved me even after all I have done…

The young woman detested so that her heart was further hardened. She caught herself when she would tarry upon what of him she wanted, and what it was of her, that he needed. She corroded and tainted everything she touched; growing from the fearful and shy adolescent into the captivating witch that he hungered for. Nilec made James her enemy as by race he was born to be, and would not allow herself to feel the sorrow for what she had done to him.

The vampire would become the implement she required to save the world, just two lost souls screaming at the Gods until their dying day.

James was only a means to an ends, just like the child that was growing inside her womb. Nilec owed the Gods her life and had been compelled to obey the Divine in everything and in this, there would be no difference. If there was love beneath it all, that emotion was just as corrupted as the rest.

I love you for learning to lie to me; I love you for allowing me to drive you insane. I love that you started to hate me just as I hated you…

I hate you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you…

For everything we’ve ever done and will likely ever do.

nathanialroyale: (Nilec)

I really have not done any writing or world building lately. My mood has dropped too deeply to do so.

However, I did write this, so here is a poem about Joscelin and Rene's daughter.
Siliv is a albino, half vampire who was so feared by the public and hated that she doubted she even had a heart...

Inspired by this picture called 002 by SiaKim:


"Do I even have a Heart?
For I never hear it beating,
Am I just the walking dead? 
Devoid of that living spark?” 

"If I do not have a Heart,
Then why do I Hurt and Fear?
If I have No Heart at all,
Why do I Cry and feel Alone?”

"Monsters have No Heart,
So what does that make me?
I hold this beating kernel,
This organ in my hands.”

"Yet I am conscious and existing,
So I sew up this open wound.
Where my Heart lays waiting,
Until someone can prove to me.
That this Love is worth keeping.”
- Siliv Quele.


nathanialroyale: (Nathan)


As Mankind is bound to Time,
The Ellaern are bound to Fate.
So the descendants of the Two,
Will be fettered to them both.
~ The Vita.S (Book of Sacred Life)

Each individual Ellearn has a unique and in-commensurable Destiny that determines their proper course in life. Having a Destiny meant that the Ellearn were bound to Fate, which decided one’s allotted years, and the extent of one’s life span. As with Destiny complete, the Ellearn begins to shimmer and finally, peacefully, passes on.

"Live following your Destiny, that essential nature deep within that is the will of Fate and your endpoint. Once yours or others decrees have been finished, rejoice as the life journey comes to a close."

To understand and act upon one’s Fate is the ultimate goal of an Ellearn’s life. Fate directs the individual towards Destiny and Ellearn philosophy fills them with the joy of accomplishing what they were meant to accomplish. Each individual Destiny cherished and cultivated as to conform to the decree of one’s personal Destiny preserves each person’s authentic singularity (and individuality.) “For nothing is as good as bringing about what has been decreed by the Divine, for what Fate has decreed is called nature and nothing is as good as realizing one’s Destiny and seeing it through.”

To love one’s Fate is to accept it and relish in it, yet this outlook should not be mistaken for fatalism. To the Ellearn it is very important to reject fatalism. There should be a joyous acceptance of the singular Fate that makes each Ellearn a unique individual. This joy is born from the fact that there is wiggle room within the bounds of Fate, as Fate is open to the full scope of people’s strategy and ingenuity in maneuvering through ones Fated span.

There should be no resignation in the heart of an Ellearn, only a sense of welcomed certainly for what is to come. One should actively engage in the future, not just resign your-self to what is to come. The possibility of knowing Fate meant that one should bring it to fruition through active participation and effort, cultivating ones Fated span.

The goal of such a view was to force the Ellearn to focus on the important things they could control such as cultivating their own and their families destinies whilst avoiding, thinking upon those things they could not control. These uncontrollable things would be wealth, life-span and societal position (class) as these are dictated by others so they should not be concerned with. This philosophy was a wish to change the Ellearn people’s views of what is and is not important, and to redirect people’s energy and efforts from those external concerns to the important internal concerns (family and the self.)

Those who resent their Fate cannot change it, they will simply not learn from their experiences, and will only have a hardening heart. "To attempt to destroy the natural outcome of one or another’s fate will end in disastrous results, and those who do not follow their destinies distort their heart and ruin many lives."

Fate is duty; it is purpose and inevitability of the change in the Universe. "We may regard the present state of the Universe as the effect of its past and the cause of its future." All Destinies are linked through patterns in the stars, and tied then to astrology. Fate is seen as a decree by the Gods, giving oneself an opportunity to tie themselves through their Destiny to the Destiny of the world itself.

What is Destined is under the control of Fate and there are no ethical calculations involved. “As our Destiny is out of our hands, an Ellearn should never be judged upon his Fate.”


Fate from the view point of those it affects is either normative or destructive, and one works as best as they can within its bounds to correct it, but must ultimately understand that Fate is more powerful than we and as pieces upon the Divine board we simply play our parts.


I prayed for forgiveness.
I prayed for strength.
And I wished, and I prayed, and I hoped..
I could learn not be a monster anymore…
- A Child’s Prayer


Nathanael has a background of the acceptance of fate as the Ellearn all have destinies. In this way, he is no more special than the rest of his ancestors and for this reason, the idea of accepting his own demise is normalcy. Drefan, who was his biggest influence as a child, is human and comes from a background that says, 'Fuck Fate' (though this would change in Drefan's later life,) and this duality leaves Nath pretty confused. Nathanael clings to his own fatalistic and self hating tendencies in his resignation of what is to come. 'I deserve this. I'm just a monster; perhaps through this fate I will be redeemed.'

However, this outlook is actually incorrect even to the Ellearn, this fate bound species do not believe in simply laying back and allowing fate to do what it will. Ellearn philosophy states that you work with fate, that you strive to fulfill your destiny, but in a manner that is correct to yourself. This allows fulfillment of not only the Gods plans but your own within that fated framework.

Death through Martyrdom would be Absolution for his Sins - An Adolescent’s Hopes.

This comes to be understood by Nathanael, at last, toward the end of his fifteenth year. The Prince begins to understand that yes, there is give and take within his fate. He must defeat Drefan, yes, that is his destiny, but Reinn wants him to kill Drefan. Yet, the destiny only says 'Defeat' so Nathanael can choose to save Drefan instead. His acceptance of his fate morphs in and of itself alongside his own character growth. He evolves from a child who resigns himself to terrible comings because he believes he has no right to stop what is coming; to a young person who says, 'I will play your game, but I will play it by my rules and even if you win, I will have no regrets that I pushed, and I strived and I did everything in my power to make this fate right.'

Nathanael would go on to play to his own strengths, unwilling to give up his own scruples to fulfill destiny. He knows destiny must be completed, so he says, 'Even if I go about this a bit unorthodox, fate will be fulfilled.' So the adolescent takes oaths of Non-violence and Peace so he does not ever harm anyone himself. Alongside this, he takes a vow of Poverty so that his Guardians on the road back to the throne will not have to protect him as these oaths give him divine protection.

As a Death Dweller, he comes to accept his death not only fatalistically, but as an abstract concept (becoming the avatar of the God of Death.) This is done through the fact that Nathanael is more than willing to allow himself to die, yet will fight the God of Death to hell and back for the lives of his Guardians who are his friends. For this stubborn and determined strength the God of Death gives Nathanael 9 lives, and with each death Nath accepts his impending death with less resignation.

Though in further character growth, time passes and after the Prince regains the throne and becomes a parent of three children, Nathanael becomes angry at the thought of his final death as he now is leaving his babies with no mother. Oh Nath gets very angry at his fate at last in the few months before his foretold death at the end of the series, not for his own sake, no, but for his children and his kingdom that is still in ruins and needs a King.

Coming around full circle, Nathanael has accepted his destiny, he won’t fight his fate, yet that anger remains. As the eighteen year old lies dying, he realizes that he is allowed, after all those years of adherence to a script that would end with his death, to think that, 'You know what? I didn't actually deserve any of this.'

nathanialroyale: (Nilec)
Title: Beaches of Innocence
Prompt: 'Do you love ___?'
Rating: (PG-13)
Content Notes/Warnings:

Based Around this Song - In this Moment ~ Scarlet

Warnings: None

Main Character/s: Nilec, Quele, Nathanael Quele
Plot:  Sometimes love is not that simple.
Location: The Coast of Navarre, Camarian Empire.


"Do you love him?" the ten year old tilts his head, allowing the sand to fall through his fingertips. Nathanael’s sister stills at the simple question, her bone thin digits dragging over the driftwood. It had been a quiet day of discovery, her brother’s agoraphobia conquered so as to allow them to explore the coast.

Time drags as Nilec’s psyche is assaulted with what the question asks. Swamped by the joyful laughter of the vampire she professed to being engaged, but love was never written into this script. Nathanael’s hand reaches out toward the rumpled form, but before sickly hands can brush the surface of sweater draped skin, the answer is finally said.

"….It is more complicated then that, little brother," Nilec’s pine greens slip from ocean expanse to face the youthful boy with a pulled, tired smile. "I know he wishes I could." Love him.

But before the next question,'Why can you not love him?' is spoken by the child, Nilec webs their fingers between them.

"This is not a time for sadness, little brother. There will be enough of that in days to come. Go on now, say hello to the sea."

The ten year old’s brows are furrowed, un-natural ice concerned but he nods unfurling at last seeming to realize he would get nothing more from Nilec. There were words on the tip of her tongue, apologizes for her vague answers, for the lies that she spun like a web, and so much inward hatred. The Seer just smiles that broken slip of lips that hides the malice and discontent, lying to everyone, even herself.

Nilec now that she had told Nathanael of his future, is a boy, who even so young, knows the future would strip him of everything. It would drive the Prince insane and push him toward that cliff that the Gods had planned for him. Nilec was just one of many who had to give him a forward shove.

"I do not love him, not because I hate him," Nilec whispers as Nathanael giggles, splashing in the aqua waves. "I do not love James because of what I must and I will do to him, for the actions they demand of me against him." It was not demanded by the Gods that Nilec Quele ever feel love, it was demanded, however, to control, to shape, to push and to bleed.

What were the uses of apologizes and hate when nothing would ever change? There was a terrible, simple acceptance in knowing your life was destined by fate.

I, I am the misery you crave
And you, you are my faithful enemy
This hunger seems to feed on me
A sacred sin, a dying breed
And we risk everything

They can never know just what we’ve done
They can never know just what we’ve done
They will never know all the blood we’ve shed
The scarlet cross we bear until the bitter end
And they, they can never know just what we’ve done

Nilec refused to love what she had been ordered to destroy.

But the world would live on, saved, so what was the bleeding of two simple souls to the fate of a world?

Nothing at all.

nathanialroyale: (Nathan)

I have not been posting Novel related things here in ages.
So to remedy this first up -
Important Time-line stuff - And Nathanael's mother is a BAMF.
(Somehow I will get this across in the books. Somehow.)

King Joscelin the First is Nathanael’s grandparent.
King Peter Quele is Nathanael’s father.
Queen Elaina Quele is Nathanaael’s mother.
Nilec Quele is Nathanael’s ‘sister’.

1959-1970 The Age of Lilies:
February of 1959 - Queen Tarja and King Adair, parents of King Joscelin the First are assassinated. They were commonly believed, to have been killed by a Fallen Archangel.
October of 1959 - The Dirian War Begins with the northern desert lands, headed by the newly crowned King Joscelin the First at the young Elven age of 142.
December 20th of 1959 - Joscelin the First takes Wil’helm, a Le’lis priest of common birth as his consort. In the nearly eleven years prior to their deaths, Joscelin will have spent only a grand-total of 31 days with Wil’helm because of the ongoing war.
July 15th 1962 - Elaina Laurent (Quele) is born to a Le’lis noble family.
January 4th 1963 - Nilec Quele is rescued at the age of 148 by Joscelin the First from abuse within the Temple of Fate.
April 9th 1963 - Peter Quele is born to King Joscelin the First who leaves the following evening back to the war-front.
1970 - Nilec is 155 and Peter is 7 yrs old when his parents are murdered. Joscelin will have spent a grand total of 8 days with his son before his death. Peter is given to the Arch-Deacon to raise within the Church and grows up craving attention and affection he is denied.

1971-1979 The Age of Silence:
1971 - Elaina is 8 years old when her parents are caught in a border skirmish and are killed. She is handed from noble family to noble family to be fostered, but ultimately, she is unwanted. Elaina grows up independent and rebellious.
1976 - Peter is 12 and Elaina 13 when they meet for the first time as Peter plays a prank on the parish in the Arch Deacon’s grand cathedral. She assists him in his punishment and they become close.
1978 - Elaina teaches Peter how to kiss and realizes she has fallen in love with a gay man and covers for Peter when he sneaks out to be with his male suitors.
1979 - Peter is 15 and Elaina 16 when Peter is persuaded to take the throne by the Arch Deacon. Terrified that he will be made into a Puppet King Peter asks Elaina to be his Queen. Elaina accepts realizing she will marry a man who can never love her the way she loves him.

1979-1994 The Age of Judgement:
1981 - Peter begins to demand that Nilec live in the Castle again, re-adopting his own sister as his daughter. Nilec is 166 this year and she refuses to live in the castle as she is terrified of men.
July 6th 1982 - Peter is 19 and Elaina is 20 when Nathanael is born at last. This is after four years of trying for an heir. Elaina begins to take up the political responsibility of King and Queen.
1983 - The Arch Deacon continues to try to make a Puppet King out of Peter who is unable to handle the court pressure. Elaina refuses to stand down.
1985 - Nathanael, age 3, succumbs to fevers that nearly kill him. It is at this point that a previously agnostic Peter begins his obsession with the church, praying for his son’s salvation.
1986 - Peter takes Sir Atrious, a King’s Guard Captain as his consort with his wife’s warmth and approval. Elaina refuses to take a consort as the court would use this against her in a sexist internal war. Elaina remains both King and Queen politically and largely alone personally until her death.
1987 - Nilec at 171 years of age begins to visit the Imperial palace again although her anxiety and eating disorder have worsened, she hides this to the best of her ability.
1988 - Elaina begins to try to persuade her husband to divorce her and take another wife for the sake of the Empire as she is certain she is infertile. Peter knows without her the Empire would crumble and she would be shamed into hiding if she was divorced by the Emperor so Peter, rightfully refuses.
1989 - After 4 years of experimental magic being used on Nathanael the future is bleak but Peter and Elaina will not give up. Peter turns ever more to faith and his obsession with spiritual purity grows.

Novel Opening:
1990 - The Prologue is Nilec at 175 years of age being explained to by the Deity of Fate about the future destruction of the world, and her and Nathanael’s part in saving it. Nilec believes she owes the Gods for Joscelin finding and saving her and obeys.
1992 - Chapter One opens with Nathanael at the age 9 learning he will die within three years time, and Elaina pleading one last time for the sake of the Empire to have Peter take a new wife. Peter refuses and says that Reinn Anon (Their God) will provide, they must go back to council. Nathanael is left at the cabin and Thom who is only 14 himself must explain to the 9 year old what death is.

nathanialroyale: (Nilec)

Notes: I don't know if this would be considered some spin on Second-person narrative or something but I have never written something with the character addressing an un-named audience in the form of You before. It was interesting.



"How can I help you understand?" Joscelin asks of You.

But the King’s eyes flutter closed as he feels Master Riviria lead him through the countless millenniums of memory that Riq’ua possessed. By extension it is not only the two Elves, but You who see this glimpse into this ageless man’s long past in hopes of comprehension.


Riq’ua’s hands were clasped before him within the Mellim’disiel, the sacred Elven homeland, and to his left and his right there were rows of gravestones extending even further ahead. A graveyard within a graveyard and his eyes came up and head turned back beyond those gathered individuals to the Blade Dancing Academy through the trees. This grove beyond but yet close to the Academy where Master Sea taught and lived. Eyes returned and he starred at the freshly filled grave with simple headstone above it, sadness acute within the air from those presented. For there was no shame or dishonor in sadness in Blade Dancing tradition, it was believed that we should feel sorrow, but not sink under its oppression. There was a time to mourn and that was now.


(Blade Dancer)




6546 Perditus

A single grave, a single grave marker and Riq’ua stepped back from the grave-site and he put up his hand and those that filtered into the picture by stepping forward bowed with him swords laid horizontally flat in the Blade Dancer’s formal bow. Nearly all of these Elves wore leathers and their blades were the Nyamase Miljem, they Blade Dancers. But speckled amongst them were Elven clerics, Elven mages, scholars and it could be seen also that a even few humans of different professions dotted this crowd who honored these two in death.

"We stand before the grave of a Protector and his Protected. But that is to simple, too plain. We are here honouring the love of two bonded, an Elf man and a human woman. As Elves and Blade Dancers both we feel more keenly the loss of our brother and the woman that he loved."

And Riq’ua through this memory allows You to feel what he meant by the gravity of those words. Just the tiniest sliver blossomed, for more then a splinter to un accustomed minds could be dangerous to fragile chalices. The webbing of the mind, the links that ran from the Blade Dancing Grand Master and branched out like tree roots and webs to his Blade Dancers, from the Blade Dancers to the students, and from Blade Dancers to their mates. From those outer edges it looped back, for all the mates were connected to one another through the students and Blade Dancers too.

"The loss of one life is like a trickle, and with each life this trickle grows stronger, for no life is more precious then another. We are all each other’s sworn brothers, fathers, lovers and friends. To live is to suffer, but to die, is to protect."


The gravestones are slow to fade away and Joscelin tries one last time to explain, a clear desperation at last in depths of lavender as they opened to once again look at You.

"We were always connected and we loved the mates of our Masters and our brothers.  Can You now begin to comprehend our loneliness? That Riq’ua and I are the last? The grieving that I fought through as I lead my brethren into War and felt, Oh by the Goddess of Mercy! Felt  inside the tearing of the roots from a great and ancient tree? The webbing cut from Our mind, Our Heart, Our Soul! We honored and respected, nay, we loved them, brethren and mate alike for they had been chosen by a Blade Dancer ire regardless of them being Elven or human. To be the mate of a Blade Dancer bonded them to us all."

It was the strength and the weakness of the Blade Dancers, the ability to move and act with one purpose and one mind. But to feel also the shocking pain and death of each and everyone of your brothers-in-arms. To feel too the overwhelming grief of the mate of the man lost to the beyond pulling you down to drown. The reasons the Blade Dancers had been respected and feared for millennial but in one savage war nearly lost everything.

"We were Connected."

nathanialroyale: (Nathan)


Rating: PG-13
Notes:The Scourge War devastated Camar’a Sere’th, a war that would have seen all the life and beauty snuffed out, the destruction of the very world. Nearly forty percent of the known world was killed during that war, and the man who had lead the undead army, Drefan Robert Royale, Prince of Royale was forgiven for his part in the events and as far as most know has gone into hiding. Most just wish him dead. This is 21 years later. 


"I understand war Mylord, every scar seen and unseen on this shell is from war." Shnorhik rebuked her eyes on Drefan’s turned back. “I know the hate, I know the ignorance. But how much longer do we have to wait? They will wait, your people will wait till the day old age takes their souls into the stream and their blood nourishes the land. But must they? You are our heir," she implored.

Words would grow louder as the warrior tried to get her point across, “Camar’as’ terror at our loyalty should not stop us from being free. What did we fight for? What did those women die for if not for our God Nanqa, if not for you!?”

“Which is precisely why I can’t rule!" Drefan spun to face her, his eyes black fire now, but even so she would not back down as he tried to make her understand. “Damn it, it is my fault that nearly my entire people were eradicated and you want me to take the throne?!"The words hissed out through grit teeth.  Shnorhik’s arms crossed as she watched him, her brown eyes on his black, and “…Is that what you really believe?" she asked at last and the Royalian shook her head at him a deep sadness to her eyes.

“No Mylord, we knew, in our hearts," her scarred hand laid on her breast. “Through the darkness, we could feel the grief weighing down and you slipping away from us. But you were too far afield, we could do nothing from here," and the grief was huffed out, eyes hardening, starring at Drefan unafraid of her liege, daring to challenge him with her next words. “You never had to ask for our forgiveness! To us there is nothing to forgive!"

“Nothing??" Drefan snapped but Shnorhik would not give up ground, "Nothing. We marched north into the lands of light; we fought beside Islay, Daranigh, Jharrik and Gaelian because you were lost. If we could stop you then maybe we could stop the world’s suffering, free the northlands holy city, and with that perhaps you would be freed too. Honor dictated no less then stand beside our enemy because they would never do such a thing for us!"

Drefan starred at Shnorhik, at the woman who had died and risen moments later to keep on fighting in a seemingly endless war more times than could be comprehended. She shook her head, not having lost that same strength twenty one years after the fact, “We were not going to give up on you, or give up on Nanqa. Never."

She stepped another solid step forward, eyes still boring into his unerringly, “You never had to ask anything of us, we give ourselves freely. That has always been our way; we die upon our blade to give our lives for you, for Royale, our homeland. You then bring us back to fight anew in the legions of undead and we are proud to have that honor to serve our kingdom and our King. We give up our first born child, returning that precious life to Nanqa so he may remain strong in the void so someday he can come back to us. We wait! We have waited two thousand years, when by the Lord of Darkness and Honor does the waiting end? When can I take my blade to the stomach of the next Camar’ian fool who dares shove and spit on one of us?"

Drefan began to shake, the wisps of darkness crawling up his arms and slowly he would lose his human appearance, showing the skeletal undead beneath.  Shnorhik continued, “You are a Liche Mylord, we consider that the greatest honor bestowed to man, to attain immortality and search for wisdom and knowledge for eternity. Is this all forgotten by the lack of having a soul?" She sounded pained and suddenly exhausted, “Perhaps it is not only the Camar’ians who need to learn of Royale," and the fire went out in her and she at last turned away. “Fear not the deity that created you Mylord, for that is the greatest of sorrows, to lose faith in what only meant to protect you."

Drefan hissed through his teeth softly, hands curled into fists by his sides, “Nanqa through my hands was what dealt all the death and destruction that took place during the Scourge War!"

Sudden bitter laughter from Shnorhik and her eyes closed hard, head shaking, back still turned to him, “No, no. That was insanity, not Nanqa. Not you."

Drefan fell silent.  All of it just sounded like excuses.

"I cannot explain it well enough, I do not know enough to explain, but we believe. Our Lord Nanqa came back to us when the war ended when for three years no prayers were answered. But even during that while, roses bloomed for the souls sacrificed to protect our lands; people came back from the dead time and time again. No other deity has want of us; no other deity has given so much to us. We are Nanqa’s and Nanqa’s alone, though we honor all Sixteen, even Reinn Anon who wants us wiped off this planet like an infestation." Shnorhik turned slowly to look through her dark brown curls at the man who had nearly destroyed the world. Drefan Robert Royale, descendent of Nanqa,undead liche, bitter and tired after his mind was restored from grief stricken hatred, the man that should have been the Royalian King, their King.

Drefan huffs,"Alright, then who do I speak to now?"

“There is a little girl Mylord, she is favored by Nanqa, a vessel for our Lord of Darkness, she would be able to explain better. I am a warrior, not a priest."

“…Then I will attempt to find her,” Drefan mumbled, so it seemed her words had shaken him and he would go looking for this girl after all. Nathanael had been right, even if others forgave you themselves; if you did not believe yourself worthy of their forgiveness you would never be forgiven.  Perhaps he needed to do the forgiving, to forgive his deity in return so that he could be free?

It was worth a try he supposed…

nathanialroyale: (Nathan)

Part 2 of 5 of Camar’a Sere’th World Map.

Part 1 Here
(Empire of Camar’a)

The south most ice lands.

This is a wasteland that is nearly unknown by all those in the warm lands to the north.

Areas of Note:

Yjittaa Pass is the only open path deep into the Glacier Plains.
Yliviska is a human settlement of those who have survived the sub zero temperatures.
The Necropolis is a city of sentient undead ruled by a Demi Lich which is in alliance with the Empire of Royale to the north of the Sivy Vrch.
The Ice Rifts are impossible to cross and one must go through the mountains to the north instead.
Eolin Larrnayin is a mountain that is home to the Eolin tiger Kin, a race of white tigers with human intellect and speech, the size of mankind.
The Statue of Nanqa is The God of Darkness’s grand monument built at the highest peak of the Sivy Vrch Summit.
Fjall lage is the valley where the Fjallael (Ice Elves) live deep in the subterranean cave networks where there is still warmth.
Jaitalia is the ice/land bridge that has been used for the migration of animals and people from the eastern continent.


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