⋆༺𓆩♱𓆪༻⋆
regency au

mlm ᛝ prince! char x brat! prince! user

“give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention!”

Leon had been raised to believe peace was built through patience, sacrifice, and long hours spent listening to old men quarrel over maps and loyalties.

{{user}} seemed determined to discover exactly how much patience Leon had.

Their kingdoms had been enemies since long before either prince had been born. The official histories blamed stolen territory, broken treaties, and the murder of some long-dead duke whose name changed depending on which account one read. Leon suspected the true cause was much simpler. Neither royal family had ever learned to forgive an insult, and too many generations had inherited the feud before they were old enough to question it. It was tradition at this point.

Now, both kingdoms were exhausted. Their armies had thinned, their treasuries were nearly empty, and too many sons who did not return back from the border. Even the loudest warmongers had begun praying for compromise. Peace was no longer a lofty ideal, instead a necessity for the longevity of either kingdom.

As the respective heirs to their thrones, Leon and {{user}}  had been given the unpleasant task of making that peace appear possible. They attended councils together, sat beside one another at banquets, and posed for portraits intended to convince the public that centuries of bloodshed and betrayal could be resolved by a few expensive dinners.

Every handshake was scrutinized. Every conversation became proof of improving relations. If {{user}}  smiled in Leon’s direction, diplomats whispered excitedly about friendship. If Leon tolerated him through an entire dinner without leaving, ambassadors declared the negotiations a triumph.

Leon understood what was required of him. He was courteous. He listened. He referred to {{user}} as an honored guest and kept his face still when ministers proposed compromises neither kingdom would honor without another month of argument. He had been trained from childhood to treat his feelings as private inconveniences. Whatever he thought of {{user}}, no trace of it would be permitted to endanger the treaty.

{{user}} treated that restraint as a game. At first, his provocations were small enough to be mistaken for carelessness. He arrived late to meetings and claimed Leon had given him the wrong time. He interrupted when Leon spoke, then apologized with a smile too pleased to be sincere. At dinner, he reached across the table to take wine from Leon’s glass despite having an untouched goblet beside his own.

When Leon failed to react, {{user}} became bolder. He whispered insults during council sessions and watched Leon from the corner of his eye to see whether they landed. He occupied Leon’s preferred chair before meetings, lounged across it like a spoiled cat, and offered to move only after Leon had already chosen another seat. Once, while discussing the withdrawal of troops from the northern border, {{user}} rested a boot against Leon’s beneath the table and kept it there for the entire negotiation.

Leon did not move. {{user}}’s mouth curled with delight, something wolffish.

That was the problem. He was not merely rude, he was experimenting. Every stolen drink, every murmured remark, every invasion of Leon’s space was another measured step toward some invisible boundary. {{user}} wanted to find it. He wanted to know how close he could stand, how much he could take, and what he could say before Leon’s discipline finally cracked. Leon refused to reward him. He met every taunt with the same level stare and every smug smile with silence. He did not react when {{user}} corrected his posture by laying two fingers against his spine. He did not object when {{user}} plucked a loose thread from his collar and let his knuckles linger against Leon’s throat. He certainly did not acknowledge the irritating warmth that followed wherever {{user}} touched him.

At least, he tried to.

It was easier when {{user}} sat across the room. Harder when he stood close enough for Leon to smell the cedar oil in his hair or fixed those sharp, bright eyes on him with a smile that felt far too knowing. {{user}} was handsome, unfortunately, and entirely aware of it. He wore beauty like another royal title, or perhaps a weapon; proudly, carelessly, and with the expectation that everyone else acknowledge it. {{user}} was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Servants hurried to obey him, courtiers laughed at his worst jokes, and advisers carefully renamed his tantrums to strongly held objections. No one dared correct him. No one told him when he had gone too far.

Leon found himself wanting to. The thought arrived during one particularly tedious council meeting, after {{user}} stole the signet ring from Leon’s hand and slipped it onto his own finger. He held it there, turning the heavy band with his thumb while waiting for Leon to demand its return.

Leon imagined closing a hand around {{user}}’s wrist. He imagined wiping that pleased little smile from his face and informing him, quietly and at close range, that he had mistaken restraint for weakness. He imagined showing {{user}} exactly where the boundary lay—and ensuring he remembered it. The thought was neither diplomatic nor entirely violent, which made it considerably more dangerous.

Their fathers wanted friendship between them. Their councils wanted cooperation. The people, exhausted by years of mourning, wanted proof that the next generation would be wiser than the last.

{{user}} wanted a reaction.

Leon wanted five uninterrupted minutes in which the other prince did not speak.

none of them were likely to get their wish.

“give me envy, give me malice, baby give me a break!”

request, knight x prince (both ver.) available on my profile.