The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
Once again, the wisdom Regan imparted upon him wasn’t something Ber hadn’t already realized for himself, but with the self-control he hadn’t displayed on the night of the ball, he shoved as much of the irritation aside as he could. She was only trying to help. “Yeah,” He agreed, returning her small smile with one of his own that felt a little more forced than genuine. “That’s the plan.”
It was a relief when she changed the subject, and Ber took her request as an excuse to turn away from the intensity of her gaze. “Can do. What size and how many?” Finally tossing the shirt in his hands aside, he made his way over to the shelves where the uniforms sat. After picking out whatever she had told him, he made his way back over to her, and the sight of the scarring across her face had another question coming to mind. “Where were you, after the ball?” The curiosity was genuine. “Heard you were injured, but I never saw you in the infirmary.”
Post by Regan Lassiter on Apr 10, 2023 13:59:17 GMT -5
Regan, entirely unaware of Ber’s irritation, was still glad to move on to other things. “Eh, four. Make it five—let’s live large.” Regan joked though the delivery of the jest was entirely off. She simply sounded awkward, which was par for the course. She leaned up against the wall with a sigh, watching Ber.
“Arynn Frey,” She answered, “The king…well, he just wanted to be sure.” Sure she didn’t die. Yes, it was favoritism, but he was the king of Nevermere. He was allowed to have favorites.
The joke landed awkwardly, but that didn’t stop Ber from trying to rescue it. “Careful, people’ll start to think you’re getting greedy.” Though accompanied by a quirk of the lips, his rebuttal was probably delivered just as poorly as the original joke. “Five it is.”
Her response of Arynn Frey simultaneously surprised him and didn’t. Upon reflection, he supposed it made sense. When he’d met Prince Akagi, Ber had seen what Arynnites could do with enchantments to paint, so he could only imagine what they could accomplish should someone turn their attentions to medicine. Or rather, he supposed, he didn’t have to imagine anymore. Regan was a walking example of how they could knit grievous wounds back together in a matter of days. Like he and Othello had said, it paid to have friends in high places.
“Well,” He said with a shrug. “You’re here now, so whatever they did worked.” It was hard to complain when the alternative was the death of someone he cared about. “You see the prince at all while you were there? He said you two knew each other.”
Post by Regan Lassiter on Apr 11, 2023 12:50:36 GMT -5
Regan smiled, reliving the now fond memory.
“The prince?” She snorted, “Yeah, he kicked my ass once back in Lorendale. But that was a long time ago.” Regan raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you had friends in high places, Berengar Stormcrest.”
She was teasing now, with a little more ease than before.
Huh. In a way, he did, didn’t he. Well, only if he considered himself friends with Akagi, which he didn’t, but they had shared a meal. Weird.
Ber matched Regan’s smile with a sheepish one of his own. “I ran into him in the castle one time and we started talking. He, uh, told me about Lorendale,” Ber explained easily, head tilting slightly to the side. “And then told me not to tell anyone about it. Except he said you were both on par with each other.”
Then his voice took on a similar teasing note as he returned the favor. “So, Regan Lassiter, which one of you is lying to me?”
Post by Regan Lassiter on Apr 12, 2023 11:45:58 GMT -5
Regan chuckled, still prickly but easing somewhat. Akagi was an unconventional royal, that much was true. Regan’s brow furrowed slightly, at ‘told me about Lorendale,’ thinking perhaps it encompassed more than just their fight. She grinned though when Ber teased her.
“I think the prince is a flatterer, not a liar.” Regan ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head slightly. “I wasn’t exactly at my best back then. Kind of a mess.” She smirked. “Hard to believe, I know.”
After considering Regan’s correction for a moment, Ber somewhat conceded her point with a shrug. “Maybe. He is very friendly, but you’re strong.” He hadn’t forgotten how she had sent that punching bag flying across the courtyard with a single blow. In fact, now that he thought about it, that seemed uncannily similar to— “Really strong.” Spoken more to himself than to her, the words were uttered quiet and thoughtful. Even if he refrained from asking outright, his mind raced to connect the dots. Before the ball, he never would have thought it possible, but then the King’s Witch had turned into a werewolf, so who was to say—
Forcibly tucking the rumination away for a later time, he shook his head. “What I mean is,” Ber added, returning to the fight club adventure. “I haven’t seen him fight, but I bet you could hold your own against the prince.” A pause. “Even if you were kind of a mess. Not that I can relate, of course.” He grinned at her joke, then at his own expense. Between both of them fighting, nearly dying, and reconciling over a dirty uniform in the supply room of all places, Ber doubted that either of them would ever not be kind of a mess. Regan made it easy to joke about at least.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Apr 13, 2023 11:07:40 GMT -5
Regan didn’t miss Ber’s change in tone. Her blood ran cold while her chest burned with anger. Alys had set things into motion; let the first domino fall that would inevitably uncover other truths. The secret, the door that they’d all so far kept closed, had been pushed open just a crack. And perhaps a crack was all that was needed to peer in.
But, mercifully, Ber moved on. Regan couldn’t address the note of suspicion without confirming that it was warranted, so she was glad to avoid the situation entirely.
There was, admittedly, something comforting about Ber. It had been that way since the first time Regan met him. There was a sameness between them rooted in their similar backgrounds. A knowing of what so few would ever have to suffer.
Because even though Regan would never, ever admit it. Even though Berengar had crossed a line and spoken out of turn at the ball, the hidden truth was that he hadn’t been entirely wrong. They would both always be orphan commoners. Discarded goods that, though they had made themselves useful, were always waiting to be tossed aside again.
“No, not at all,” Regan responded with sarcasm and a smile. “But for being messes we clean up okay. Or well, mostly okay.” She absently picked at the scar on her chest before clutching the uniforms to cover it.
Like a novice musician plucking at strings without knowing which would strike a discordant note, Ber had navigated this conversation with a lingering caution, but the return of the smiles and the sarcasm had him hopeful that they could settle once more as friends. Though much of the awareness lurked below the surface of his mind, he too found comfort in the unspoken kinship he shared with Regan. The realization that he had come very close to losing it - maybe should have lost it - was not one he would forget anytime soon.
“Guess we do,” He agreed, thinking of dressing up in Thom’s old suit and seeing Regan in her gown. A thought nagged at him then, something that had been lost in the chaos and only now rediscovered, but before he could snag it, the Huntsman began to make her leave.
Distracted, he looked away from her to survey the supply room with a sigh. “Yeah, probably.” The reluctance was clear in his voice, but it would be just his luck that Woodwick or someone else would stop by to find him talking instead of working. He didn’t need more chores on top of a schedule full of chores. “If you, uh, need more uniforms or anything,” He said, spreading his hands and offering a less-than-enthused smile. “I’m here all week.” And the one after. And the one after that.
The stray thought continued to eat at him, and it took until Regan was nearly at the door for him to remember it. “Oh, uh.” Awkward but genuine, he spoke up again. “At the ball, I was gonna say, before, um, everything. You looked really nice in that dress.” A brief pause, then a quick, slight nod to himself. “And you still would.”
Because, at the end of the day, her appearance hadn’t been what had tied his throat into a knot. It had been her. In his eyes, when she’d walked in behind the king, looking like she’d been born to a life impossibly far from the one they’d both lived, Regan had absolutely glowed, and no amount of scarring would ever change that.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Apr 16, 2023 9:43:03 GMT -5
Regan snorted, a lopsided grin spreading across her features.
“Oof,” She said empathetically, shaking her head. She’d turned to go, her hand already on the doorknob when Ber stopped her. Regan turned with a raised eyebrow and a curious expression. The curiosity only grew as Ber fumbled through his sentence until he finally found the heart of it and Regan’s expression melted into something gooey-eyed and mushy.
She recognized the complement for what it was: not a bid for romance, but a recognition of what only someone like Ber could see. It had been more than a pretty dress. It had been a badge of honor that had declared that—finally—Regan Lassiter was worthy. That she was enough. And in the end, that’s all that kids like Regan and Ber really wanted.
Regan was surprised to find a single tear dropped unbidden down her cheek before she hastily brushed it away in embarrassment.
“Uh, thanks. You didn’t look half bad yourself.” She smiled, pausing one last moment before turning and shutting the door behind her.