Arranged Marriage AU
Nov. 24th, 2019 12:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
capturingeternity posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
odds_andends[Today is the day that Dorian will be meeting the fiance picked for him without his say in the matter.
If proven a match, it will be one week before he's wed.
One week to feel all sense of freedom slipping away from him bit by bit.
And he is absolutely miserable.
Oh, he had known the inevitability of it, that he couldn't go on living the life of a debaucher forever. But he was just so good at it, was the thing. Some of the royal tutors blamed in on the fact that he had lost his parents so early and that without a proper role-model to take up the slack, he'd been left to drift at the whims of his impulses. Perhaps there was some truth to that, though there was no one cause behind the young prince's dalliances with minor royals and commoners alike other than the fact that he was, actually, extremely beautiful. And he had figured that out along with the power it held over others as soon as he had blossomed from youth into adulthood.
Over the next few, all-too-short years he'd managed to make quite a name for himself in the surrounding kingdoms. The 'Satyr Prince' was the moniker he'd already earned, much to the chagrin of the king, to the point where the people speculated that the boy had been born with literal goat hooves. But those rumours were completely unfounded.
Still, Dorian almost wishes it were true if it would prove this entire marriage a farce. Sunk sullenly into his seat at his castle's receiving chamber, draped in fine silks and silver from the mines his kingdom is known for, he stares off at a point towards the ceiling with his face propped against one hand. His grandfather, the King sits aside him as a messenger approaches and whispers to him that the foreign Duchess' escort has arrived.]
If proven a match, it will be one week before he's wed.
One week to feel all sense of freedom slipping away from him bit by bit.
And he is absolutely miserable.
Oh, he had known the inevitability of it, that he couldn't go on living the life of a debaucher forever. But he was just so good at it, was the thing. Some of the royal tutors blamed in on the fact that he had lost his parents so early and that without a proper role-model to take up the slack, he'd been left to drift at the whims of his impulses. Perhaps there was some truth to that, though there was no one cause behind the young prince's dalliances with minor royals and commoners alike other than the fact that he was, actually, extremely beautiful. And he had figured that out along with the power it held over others as soon as he had blossomed from youth into adulthood.
Over the next few, all-too-short years he'd managed to make quite a name for himself in the surrounding kingdoms. The 'Satyr Prince' was the moniker he'd already earned, much to the chagrin of the king, to the point where the people speculated that the boy had been born with literal goat hooves. But those rumours were completely unfounded.
Still, Dorian almost wishes it were true if it would prove this entire marriage a farce. Sunk sullenly into his seat at his castle's receiving chamber, draped in fine silks and silver from the mines his kingdom is known for, he stares off at a point towards the ceiling with his face propped against one hand. His grandfather, the King sits aside him as a messenger approaches and whispers to him that the foreign Duchess' escort has arrived.]
