boo.
keep precious things
jules
filler
filler
filler
filler
filler
filler
- home (filler tab)
mood
pissed af
filler
-
outfit
-
filler
-
location
old observatory
filler
interactions
n/a
filler
- home (filler tab)
camino
2/14
There were a few problems in Jules’ life. The first problem that blanketed all the rest, and wouldn’t be gone until one of them died, was his father, the king. King Julian II, to be exact. The old man was stupid and had clearly never been his twenties, or he wouldn’t be so unreasonable. Jules had never met anyone else who could shout using only their eyebrows. If the king wasn’t around, then there wouldn’t be any problems. Of course, then that would mean Jules would have to be king, and that would be a whole host of new problems to deal with.
The second problem had been going on for a few years, and that was the war. Quite honestly, as long as his personal life wasn’t overly affected, Jules couldn’t care less who fought who for what reason. He did care, however, when Dear Old Dad decided that his son ought to have more “responsibility” and should “join him at the strategic meetings.” The war brought with it hours of talking to boring people about the most asinine things. In short, Jules felt that the war was ruining the prime of his life, and that had to stop. It hadn’t quite occurred to him that trying to end the war would potentially solve this problem, or if it had, it had also occurred to him that it would involve lots of Hard Work.
There was a third problem, and it had plagued Jules’ mind for the past five days: Marriage. Not just the old “time to find a wife” marriage, but the kind that is arranged in order benefit Dear Old Dad. Jules had never been so furious when his father announced that in order to turn the tide of the war, he needed new alliances.
That’s where it had ended; Jules really couldn’t see a way out of this one. His life was going be over, and he couldn’t even fight back. The only place he could find any respite from his own self-pity was the old observatory that sat right in the middle of the royal gardens. The antique structure was well-hidden by overgrown willows and hanging vines, creating a sanctuary that made it the perfect place to disappear. The gardeners had forgotten it, or maybe they chose to ignore it because it was a common spot for Jules to take his naïve lovers.
It’s where he was now; evening was drawing on, but sunlight continued to linger on the horizon. There was something tedious about the way the golden light slowly filtered through the leaves. Jules wished it would just get dark already. He was sprawled against the base of one of the ancient willows, digging his fingers into the soil and watching it fall through his fingers. A steady frown had settled on his lips, and his brow was furrowed in deep thought. There was no way he would just submit to his father’s whims, at least not so easily. Frustration was too great an ally to ignore; he knew that if he could channel it right, he could get back at that old fool. But how?
There was at least one person who could understand his sorrows, or at least pretend to. It was who he waited for now; he had slipped a note in the basket she had been carrying earlier that day. This someone, also known as Nicolette, was hardly the company he was expected to keep – she was a servant, after all – but there was an unusual kinship between them. Jules always thought that if she had been born into higher status, she would have made a hell of a queen. She was also the closest thing Jules had to a friend, but even that was a bit of a stretch. Their companionship, at least in Jules view, was borne of necessity; he couldn't talk to anyone else about his "love" life without judgement. She didn't care what he did, and Jules found it therapeutic to boast about his accomplishments to a third party. In other words, their friendship was strictly utilitarian.
For Jules, his countless lovers were strikes of independence. His father couldn’t exactly babysit him or forbid him from talking to people of the opposite sex. It wasn’t good for reputation, but that was kind of the point. Jules was well aware of his womanizing image; he rather liked it. He knew what he wanted, and he could get it with a few disarming words. None of his flings ever lasted more than a few weeks, but that was just how Jules preferred it; permanence wasn't exactly his style.
And Nicolette? Jules had never asked. She could do whatever she wanted, so long as it didn't stop Jules from doing what he wanted to do.
The second problem had been going on for a few years, and that was the war. Quite honestly, as long as his personal life wasn’t overly affected, Jules couldn’t care less who fought who for what reason. He did care, however, when Dear Old Dad decided that his son ought to have more “responsibility” and should “join him at the strategic meetings.” The war brought with it hours of talking to boring people about the most asinine things. In short, Jules felt that the war was ruining the prime of his life, and that had to stop. It hadn’t quite occurred to him that trying to end the war would potentially solve this problem, or if it had, it had also occurred to him that it would involve lots of Hard Work.
There was a third problem, and it had plagued Jules’ mind for the past five days: Marriage. Not just the old “time to find a wife” marriage, but the kind that is arranged in order benefit Dear Old Dad. Jules had never been so furious when his father announced that in order to turn the tide of the war, he needed new alliances.
“You can’t be serious.”
Jules stared at his father in disbelief and sank into one of the large, cushioned armchairs in his father’s private study.“Don’t even get started with that attitude,”
snarled his father, leaning against the thick wood desk. “It’s time for you to be useful. There are a few nations willing to join our cause, but they need more than our word.”
“Oh, so I’m a bargaining chip now? That’s rich. I’ve sat through all those tedious war councils, I’ve stayed awake when those pottering old generals stand around their maps and make absolutely no progress. You know, I even—”
“Oh, shut up.”
A smug expression sat on the king’s face.“Oh, shut up.”
“You don’t have a say anymore. It wouldn’t be so bad if you weren’t necking all the noblewomen in the courts.”
“I don’t need to listen to this.”
“I don’t need to listen to this.”
That’s where it had ended; Jules really couldn’t see a way out of this one. His life was going be over, and he couldn’t even fight back. The only place he could find any respite from his own self-pity was the old observatory that sat right in the middle of the royal gardens. The antique structure was well-hidden by overgrown willows and hanging vines, creating a sanctuary that made it the perfect place to disappear. The gardeners had forgotten it, or maybe they chose to ignore it because it was a common spot for Jules to take his naïve lovers.
It’s where he was now; evening was drawing on, but sunlight continued to linger on the horizon. There was something tedious about the way the golden light slowly filtered through the leaves. Jules wished it would just get dark already. He was sprawled against the base of one of the ancient willows, digging his fingers into the soil and watching it fall through his fingers. A steady frown had settled on his lips, and his brow was furrowed in deep thought. There was no way he would just submit to his father’s whims, at least not so easily. Frustration was too great an ally to ignore; he knew that if he could channel it right, he could get back at that old fool. But how?
There was at least one person who could understand his sorrows, or at least pretend to. It was who he waited for now; he had slipped a note in the basket she had been carrying earlier that day. This someone, also known as Nicolette, was hardly the company he was expected to keep – she was a servant, after all – but there was an unusual kinship between them. Jules always thought that if she had been born into higher status, she would have made a hell of a queen. She was also the closest thing Jules had to a friend, but even that was a bit of a stretch. Their companionship, at least in Jules view, was borne of necessity; he couldn't talk to anyone else about his "love" life without judgement. She didn't care what he did, and Jules found it therapeutic to boast about his accomplishments to a third party. In other words, their friendship was strictly utilitarian.
For Jules, his countless lovers were strikes of independence. His father couldn’t exactly babysit him or forbid him from talking to people of the opposite sex. It wasn’t good for reputation, but that was kind of the point. Jules was well aware of his womanizing image; he rather liked it. He knew what he wanted, and he could get it with a few disarming words. None of his flings ever lasted more than a few weeks, but that was just how Jules preferred it; permanence wasn't exactly his style.
And Nicolette? Jules had never asked. She could do whatever she wanted, so long as it didn't stop Jules from doing what he wanted to do.
♡coded by uxie♡
