LET IT BEGIN. - Blog Posts

Some would call it coincidence. Others would call it providence. Helena, however, knew that the king ending up in her care was neither. Although they'd managed to operate in secret for generations, it was only a matter of time before the coven was discovered and targeted. After all, they had their fare share of connections to the beings the murderer sleeping in the other room seemed hellbent on extinguishing. Monsters, he called them. Her lip curled just at the thought of the word. A few of her own friends had even fallen to Valor's sword. Someone had to stop him.

So when battle had started to brew, the witches began weaving their web. They'd offered their support to his enemies, empowered their forces and their weapons, but they'd made sure he didn't fall. That would only enrage his entire realm. They would seek revenge for their beloved king and fight harder. Someone would carry on his mission. No, they had to dismantle the entirety of that mission to save their ilk, and Helena had been happy to be charged with the task. She was going to pull it all apart. Only then would she kill him. For now, as much as she couldn't stand the thought, she had to keep him alive.

Healing magic wasn't her specialty, but she was decent enough, and she didn't have to heal his wounds entirely. That would have been too obvious. She'd simply given him what he needed to hold on to life for the past few days until she'd increased the regenerative magic just enough to encourage his body to wake up. When she heard him stirring in the other room of the small cottage the coven had placed her in, Helena knew that it was finally time to face her mark. She took a deep breath and gathered a tray with a pitcher of water and some fresh bread that he very much didn't deserve.

"You're not alone." Helena announced as she stepped into the room, setting the tray down on a table in the corner before turning to Valor with a warm smile. "You should lie back down. You've been asleep for a few days. You'll need to go slowly." She paused and tipped her head to the side. "How are you feeling?"

status -> open to all 21+ muses *we do not have to be mutuals to reply! supernatural muses welcome, too! + canons if applicable but will be selective*

setting -> my muse, inspired by arthur from camelot lore, is the king of a small realm && has been severely injured in battle. your muse, perhaps not realizing that he is the king, has taken on the task of nursing him back to health && saving his life. bonus points if your muse is on the enemy's side, or maybe does know who he is && has other intentions, entirely utp!!

my other opens - always accepting responses!

i should be dead. it was the first thought that floated through the throbbing agony of king valor's mind, before the full force of the pain hit his body. bones, broken. flesh, torn. he last remembered the devastating swing of a sword- a blurred face with lifeless eyes as they swung to claim his own... valor startled fully awake. groaning as he sat up, nearly passing back out again as color dazzled in fractals of his vision, bile rising in his throat as his body screamed protest to movement. maybe i am dead. he shook, trying to focus on his breathing, eyes wild as they took in unfamiliar surroundings. valor looked down, noticing his clothes were gone. the royal crest, the weapons, the armor... exposed, vulnerable, with bruises blooming over so many surfaces. " hello? " the king croaked, realizing how dry his throat was, how he was too weak to stand. to fight, to run. fear flooded his veins like ice. " am i alone here? "

THEY'RE HERE AGAIN