- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Whenever I can get on.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Comedy, Medieval, Romance, Sci-Fi, Modern
The kingdom of Nocturna follows an ancient tradition, that tradition being the princess elect. If the king fails to have an heir, the King's Council picks ten young women to bring to the castle, and they select one to become a princess. It's many girls' dreams to become princess elect, though it's truly a rare occasion when one is actually chosen. This tradition, however, prevents the throne from falling empty during the country's time of need. And with the neighboring kingdom always on the verge of attack, it's best to be safe than sorry.
"Well, this is one fine mess." A fine-dressed man snapped harshly as he hustled about the cozy sitting room, cleaning ornate decorations and dusting the chandelier. Another man watched with an amused smile as the boss busted his butt cleaning an already perfectly polished room.
"James, my good sir, I think you've finally lost it." He mused softly as he sauntered across the room.
"Shut up, Silas. Don't you have a job to do?" The older fellow snapped in annoyance.
"The silverware is polished, the table is set, Sir Alyn and his guards are stationed about the castle, and the gardens have been primed and primmed to perfection." Silas spoke with a flamboyant wave of his hands. "No potential princess elect shall pout over our prized plates and petunias."
James rolled his eyes at the mildly poetic statement. "Surely there's someone else in this huge castle for you to bother." He sighed and continued to whisk about the room, straightening pictures and hurrying about the room.
Both men's attention went to the door out into the hall as hurried steps caught their attention.
"The potential princesses are here!" Another young man scurried into the room.
"Nico, what the devil is on your shirt? Go fix yourself up. We're going to be selecting royalty tonight, not some slob!" James snapped at the young nobleman, who quickly scurried out. His sharp gaze went to Silas. "Can you get the remainder of the cleaning supplies back to the maids, since you've taken care of all your duties? I have a few ladies to meet and greet." He spoke with a devilish grin and whisked out of the room, leaving a seething Silas in his wake.
"Well, this is one fine mess." A fine-dressed man snapped harshly as he hustled about the cozy sitting room, cleaning ornate decorations and dusting the chandelier. Another man watched with an amused smile as the boss busted his butt cleaning an already perfectly polished room.
"James, my good sir, I think you've finally lost it." He mused softly as he sauntered across the room.
"Shut up, Silas. Don't you have a job to do?" The older fellow snapped in annoyance.
"The silverware is polished, the table is set, Sir Alyn and his guards are stationed about the castle, and the gardens have been primed and primmed to perfection." Silas spoke with a flamboyant wave of his hands. "No potential princess elect shall pout over our prized plates and petunias."
James rolled his eyes at the mildly poetic statement. "Surely there's someone else in this huge castle for you to bother." He sighed and continued to whisk about the room, straightening pictures and hurrying about the room.
Both men's attention went to the door out into the hall as hurried steps caught their attention.
"The potential princesses are here!" Another young man scurried into the room.
"Nico, what the devil is on your shirt? Go fix yourself up. We're going to be selecting royalty tonight, not some slob!" James snapped at the young nobleman, who quickly scurried out. His sharp gaze went to Silas. "Can you get the remainder of the cleaning supplies back to the maids, since you've taken care of all your duties? I have a few ladies to meet and greet." He spoke with a devilish grin and whisked out of the room, leaving a seething Silas in his wake.