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Nov. 29th, 2025 05:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
willysilver"What do you mean he wasn't there to accept my challenge this year?" the prince asked, leaning forward in annoyance. "We duel every solstice, he can't just...not."
"I apologize, sire. The queen says she extends her personal assurance the court is doing all it can. The importance of the solstice battle is-"
"Shut. Up," Willy said sharply, cutting him off. "Get out."
He sulked the rest of the day. He knew Nyx was sick of the dance. He'd been bored of it for years. But it was the only time he got to see the nymph. To beat him...and fuck him and welcome the birth of the sun with him for another cycle. It was tradition. It was important.
It was the only thing Willy even looked forward to.
* * *
The prince had gone to the river and offered yellow blossoms and sparkling gems, and finally a song when the spirit appeared. She told him of Nyx, adored in the world of men. Safe, loved by mortals beyond measure and safe from the cycle of war. She told him enough that when they parted, the prince went to the dungeons of the palace to where his mother kept her portal and, without a word to anyone, he stepped into a dressing room, the reflection a tall black haired man, achingly beautiful. His own clothes gone, he found himself in mortal clothing. Black jeans, a black silk shirt, and a leather jacket. This would do.
Out of the shop, out on the street, Willy looked up at ad advertisement that took up most of the side of a building. Nyx, mostly bare, devastatingly beautiful.
He shouldn't be hard to find.
"I apologize, sire. The queen says she extends her personal assurance the court is doing all it can. The importance of the solstice battle is-"
"Shut. Up," Willy said sharply, cutting him off. "Get out."
He sulked the rest of the day. He knew Nyx was sick of the dance. He'd been bored of it for years. But it was the only time he got to see the nymph. To beat him...and fuck him and welcome the birth of the sun with him for another cycle. It was tradition. It was important.
It was the only thing Willy even looked forward to.
* * *
The prince had gone to the river and offered yellow blossoms and sparkling gems, and finally a song when the spirit appeared. She told him of Nyx, adored in the world of men. Safe, loved by mortals beyond measure and safe from the cycle of war. She told him enough that when they parted, the prince went to the dungeons of the palace to where his mother kept her portal and, without a word to anyone, he stepped into a dressing room, the reflection a tall black haired man, achingly beautiful. His own clothes gone, he found himself in mortal clothing. Black jeans, a black silk shirt, and a leather jacket. This would do.
Out of the shop, out on the street, Willy looked up at ad advertisement that took up most of the side of a building. Nyx, mostly bare, devastatingly beautiful.
He shouldn't be hard to find.
