#medieval

40 posts
  • seraiah_smiles 7w

    His Majesty:
    Mr. Ryan.

    His Highness:
    Mr. Prince.

    #Medieval #Contemporary #King #Prince

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    "His Majesty and His Highness"

    His Majesty, The King: My Prince, I WANT YOU.

    Always by MY side.

    His Highness, The Prince: Am I not?

    *His Majesty, the Little King, The Cute King, gulped*

    His Majesty: How have you been, MY Prince?

    His Highness: Always tired but energetic, aren't it ironic?

    *His Majesty gave a dry laugh. Looking at that, His Highness returned a sweet, princely laugh*

    His Highness: You're cute.

    His Majesty: OF COURSE... It's none else but ME. Right?

    His Highness: *Smiles* Yes, of course.

    ©seraiah_smiles

    .
    .
    .
    .

    on another day's time,

    His Majesty: I want a KISS.

    His Highness: Here, .

    His Majesty: Just one???

    His Highness: Brother.. ?
    *tilts head, ahhh*

    His Majesty: Arghh! Don't call me...! Br... n'vermind.

    (Sigh, why... God... we give each other headaches so much)

    *Dreams....*

    (You know, )

  • mathilde 24w

    #oxymoron #wod #oldage #medieval @writersnetwork @miraquill
    Phew this was a really new idea I got... Thank u all for the likes and reposts.... �� It really means a lot to me
    Also this is like a completely different plot I thought of... So comment ur thoughts about it... ��
    ©mathilde
    @rish_jee @telepathy123 @ayu004_

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    If you want me in your life,
    Earn me


    He said," Marie ! Far and wide I am heard,
    Even by the blinds, the lames, the mutes,
    People look upto me,
    Work is done by me,
    The bitter jobs are looked down by me.
    I see the signs of optimism,
    I ignore the pessimistic thoughts,
    Country by far is in good hands,
    No complaining about it.
    Then why do keep complaining,
    Over futile matters,
    Release me from it this instance,
    Delayed progress was never my cup of tea. ”

    Poor Marie in high back rich people's chair,
    Translucent ugly tears streaming down her beautiful face,
    Weak body; she has,
    But it was sent with a strong voice and personality.

    She started the talk with no guilt,
    "You dare say you are innocent ?
    Old, wretched man,
    In the near small world,
    You dare call yourself a young, fortunate man ?
    I am no toy,
    To be played or meddled with,
    Or even used over and over again,
    Then thrown like garbage on the street.
    I am a human,
    Have no beast embraced in me,
    You say it's a futile thing,
    When I have to be the one going through it.
    Using me for power and fame,
    Only for walking off,
    Going and finding home to distant ladies,
    And forgetting about the one whom you left out here.
    I will not be telling once again,
    I have a value.
    If you need me in your life,
    Earn me in your life ! ”

    ©mathilde

  • de_castile 37w

    La loca

    I am a queen but int'rnee
    i holdeth the pow'r yet i am helpless
    i am stout still i am vuln'rable

    O, moth'r!
    wherefore thee leaveth me aft'r thee putteth me to this destiny
    O, moth'r!
    anon high-lone amidst the crowd

    anon i am nimble-footed f'r i wanteth to holdeth mine own right
    anon i am nimble-footed as i wanteth to owneth mine own loveth just f'r me
    anon i am nimble-footed f'r i wanteth to beside the c'rpse of mine own belov'd one

    lief moth'r,
    anon i am just sitting high-lone
    witnessing mine own loveth ones cheateth and betray me
    anon i am just counting the timeth,
    waiting the day at which hour i can closeth mine own eyes

    ©de_castile

  • de_castile 37w

    Alloweth me bringeth thee to the timeth

    wh're t becomes the reasoneth of thou art the present day

    wh're t fills thee with smileth and drops of sorrow

    alloweth me bringeth thee to the timeth

    wh're t det'rmines ev'rything

    wh're t changes aught

    the timeth yond thee can seeth but cannot thee holdeth

    the timeth yond nev'r alloweth thee wend yet nev'r alloweth thee cometh

    alloweth me bringeth thee to thee to the timeth of thee in the past

    wh're t's shapeth thee as thou art anon

    ©de_castile

  • seraiah_smiles 52w

    Later, I shall post something medieval that resonates with my life currently.
    ©seraiah_smiles

  • mutilated_marionette 59w

    Sleep Softly

    Sleep softly sweet sire
    Hush thy phone so ye may sleep
    Abandon all angst
    ©mutilated_marionette

  • warriorofthenight 85w

    Game of Swords

    It's a frightening game
    High stakes and merciless blame
    Scandals brewing, hatred anewing
    Whom to believe, what has he achieved?
    Leak the secrets of your prided country
    You'll be alright if your friends have enough money.
    Sharpen your swords, it's the day the crowd decides
    Who shall live and who shall die.
    Put your name out there, feed them all your lies-
    "Life will be better if on me do you decide''
    I'll give you freedom, he'll reward you with greater tax,
    Once you enter this game, no one will relax.
    One year, two years, thrice and four,
    Another great battle is yet in store.
    Will the dark flourish?
    Will the righteous lose?
    That all depends on which side you choose.

    Politics have a nasty name
    Because this profession is a deadly game.
    Money is important, morals thrown aside
    There's always a chance but most things are a lie.
    Choose wisely, be sure the hate you'll get, you can afford,
    Because yes, this is a game of the swords.
    ©warriorofthenight

  • crybabyswiftie22 90w

    Joust

    In the Joust
    We're the armipotents
    Our enemies always oust
    That's how our friendship will be persistent
    ©crybabyswiftie22

  • amiravana 107w

    महामारी

    दुनिया जहां सब बर्बाद हुए इस चक्कर में
    और लोग अभी भी मारे फिरते हैं घनचक्कर से
    ©amiravana

  • rodrigo_souza 115w

    A short story in a fantasy world.

    #fantasy #adventure #mage #cleric #medieval # fairytale

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    Forrest Willow

    My name is Forrest Willow. I am human, the oldest son of 7 children of Wood and Violet Willow. My parents were travelers. I have been to many villages, forests, roads, castles, caves and even to hell.
    Wood Willow, my talented father, before of being a traveler, made a living as a sculptor of carved wood figures in a small village in the north. His wood figures were made in different sizes, but always portraying the same unknown creature. My beloved grandmother said that his son was always fascinated by beauty of each living creature on the Earth. She said my father spent hours drawing the animals of their farm.
    Violet Willow was the owner of a flower shop, very popular in that small village. However, she was much more known by her knowledge about healing properties of plants. I even saw many times the king himself buying healing potions for his daughters.
    In that small village there were no places for people to have fun besides the tavern, that’s why the God’s Festival was so important and waited. It was at the festival when my life changed, when I was 6, that was the first time I saw a warrior knight. I was amazed by his armor and sword, reflecting the sun light. “I want to be a knight when I grow up!”, I looked at my father and said cheerfully. Suddenly, I saw something huge on fire falling from the sky, like a meteor, hitting the knight and melting his armor.
    A complete confusion took over the festival, the crowd started to run desperately. I did not know what was happening. It did not matter each side I looked, there was those meteors falling, hitting houses and people. Besides that, there a strong sound, like a thunder, but much louder. I can’t remember what happened later, I just recall to wake up somewhere like a basement in my mother’s arms, while I heard my father calling for my brothers outside. Like my parents, many other villagers lost their children that day.
    It was when my parents became travelers. I knew many places, some of them dark, others wonderful, but my parents remained only enough to sell some wood figures and healing potions before leaving. During those years, I started to know my parents. My father was actually a ranger and my mother a cleric. They did not talk about that to me, all I knew was by eavesdropping some conversions about an adventure when they were young. I heard about a dwarf, a druid and a mage, that their quest was to prevent that a very powerful entity from an alien plane could invade our world. That creature was being helped by his followers leaded by a warlock called Belphegor.
    As years went by, my parents taught me everything, about surviving techniques, information about every kind of creature, how to identify plants, prepare healing potions, and the basic about some gods and entities. I had found my vocation, I wanted knowledge, I wanted to know about everything.
    The night I completed 18 years old, I had the worst experience of my life since that damned festival. We had camped in a cave and it was months that we did not have any contact with the civilization. I was dreaming deeply when the cave started to quake and fall apart. From the deep of the cave it came a type of a mist, very dense and red, that quickly wrapped us. “He found us!”, my parents said to each other. When I found myself, we were in place with purple sky, black clouds, the ground was red jelly like and there was a smell of something burning, but there was no smoke. Definitely we were no longer in the cave.
    Suddenly, a lighting hit the ground right in front of us, emerging a horrible creature. Actually, I could not look at it, its appearance was so disturbing that I could not look directly, but I noticed that it was more than a hundred feet tall. My parents tried to fight, but they were immobilized by the creature. “I am the almighty Asmodaios. Come close and kneel before me. Swear your loyalty to the almighty Asmodaios, otherwise watch your parents die!”, The entity spoke to me with a voice so loud and deep with a strange accent that I merely understood him. That moment, an old man wearing a grey cloak had appeared by my side and took my hand. “Alastor, take care of our son!”, that was the last time I heard my parents’ voice.
    It took me hours to stop crying for the loss of my parents. The elf, Alastor, told me that before I was born there was a group of various races with different classes that faced an adventure with the objective to prevent the coming of Asmodaios to this world. The adventure was a success with the defeat of the warlock, Belphegor, but there were still many followers of Asmodaios out there, and from time to time Asmodaios managed to influence our world.
    From that day on, Alastor is teaching me how to use magic, preparing me to, someday, face Asmodaios and avenge my parents.

  • secrecyofthemind 119w

    modern medieval

    The charriots are stuck
    in a heavy traffic
    despite the green lights
    shining across the acropolis

    Each being carries a sword
    buried in his pocket,
    sharper than words,
    made of trolls,
    not copper

    Lands and mountains
    covered in castles
    standing side by side,
    with tiny spaces in between
    for breathing

    Kingdoms are still ruled
    by ugly men
    with grotesque minds
    commanding endlessly
    until they die

    We have reached
    the modern medieval
    Women are still witches
    and guillotine peaks
    in the form of guns

    We believed in civilizations
    until civilizations lose
    their sense


    ©secrecyofthemind

  • darthbuddha92 126w

    Medieval Love Story

    "Celestria, my heart beats for you. You are my life, my Sun!" Odo shouts on bended knee. Celestria pokes her head out of her window gazing down annoyingly at the man she tried her best to avoid. "I have no care for what my father pledges. I refuse to marry you!" "We are meant to be together Celest, my luminescent full moon. I travelled many lands at your father's behest to be by your side for eternity. We are soulmates." Odo replies, his hands clutching his heart. Celestria shakes her head and looks down solemnly at Odo. "I have nothing to give you. I am not ready. I will only bring you pain Odo, you must go." Standing up with pride, Odo extends his hand out towards Celestria. "You needn't give me anything my sweet apricot. I will give you my soul." Celestria smiles affectionately, "You accept me for who I am?" She asks timidly. Odo, nodding his head eagerly, "Yes Celestria. Whatever you want from me I will happily and most lovingly give. Let me lay beside thee and we can plan our future." Celestria agrees and motions for him to come up so Odo can lay beside her.
    The following day, the King approaches his daughter in anticipation of officially blessing her soon to be union of love. "Sweet daughter, has Sir Odo claimed your precious heart and vowed to give you everything you desire?" Celestria smiled sweetly and revealed the blood soaked heart of Odo tightly clenched in her hand. "Yes Father. He definitely has."
    ©darthbuddha92

  • callingcrows 134w

    Day 42, Month 4, Year 57, Dawn Of Blade Era
    Aeris

    As I witnessed the last of the Feloerie surrender, I spun on the spot and darted across the barren moorland. Not towards the Feloerie, but down into the westward area of the wasteland. My breathing still ragged from the battle that had raged only moments ago, I slid down a sloping dune and nearly tripped on one of the heaps of bodies that were now being piled together. I picked my way across the warrior-strewn graveyard with my hurried steps, eyes darting around the valley frantically. And then I saw her.
    Her oaken brown hair was stringy and slick with sweat, her perfect, doll-like face now covered in bits of crimson and black blood. Her armor had a few pieces missing here and there, and she had several small wounds covering her head-to-toe. Yet, despite all of that, she was still as beautiful as she ever had been.
    “Agnes.”
    She caught sight of me too, and by the next moment, I was sprinting for my lover’s arms. My courageous, beautiful warrior’s arms.


    Day 23, Month 2, Year 58, Dawn Of Blade Era
    Aeris

    The ever-Autumn wind sent small shivers down our spines as we laid upon the grassy field together. Curling her silky hair between my fingertips, I asked her in a low whisper,
    “Agnes, what would you do if someone tried to take me from you?”
    To which she replied with cold fire in her cobalt eyes,
    “I would take down each and every one of The Eight myself if it meant saving you.”


    Day 45, Month 3, Year 64, Dawn Of Blade Era
    Agnes

    I had to do something. And fast.
    I stood rigid as a fear-stricken doe as I stared at the carnage in the valley. There, raging like something straight out of apocalyptic nightmares, the great dragon Arkhe tore across the plain, growing nearer to the village with every gods-damned sprinting step.
    My village. My home.
    One moment I was gaping at the horror that was about to be unleashed before my eyes, and the next I was running like hell towards the wooded peak that sat just before the village outskirts. The ensuing storm had turned everything muddy and slick, and it painted the mountain as if it were grieving for the village’s soon-to-be fate, too. I darted onward, up the side of the slippery slope, aiming for an outcropping of rocks that jutted out near the peak.
    I knew what I had to do.


    Day 45, Month 3, Year 64, Dawn Of Blade Era
    Aeris

    I pushed my way through the growing crowd, panic plaguing my every breath. I tried not to listen to the villagers’ exclamations as I tore my way through them. I could feel tears beginning to burn in my eyes.
    “Is that...Agnes?”
    “How did she do that?”
    “I can’t believe it…”
    “She’s a hero.”
    I reached the center of the crowd, and had caught the attention of those around me. Recognizing me, and who I was to her, some of the villagers began backing away, with nothing but a look of pained sympathy. And then I saw her.
    “Agnes-”
    I could barely choke out her name before the sobs shuddered through my body, bringing me to my knees. Barely able to keep my head up as I laid upon the ground, I reached for her beautiful, bloodied hand. I held her hand and screamed until everything became dark.
    She was so cold.


    Day 32, Month 5, Year 847, Dusk Of Knight Era
    Agnes

    Different.
    The ceiling that I stared at as I opened my eyes was a cold grey, made up of stacked stones. Opening my eyes felt so...strange, so...different. It felt as though my body had become some sort of foreign land. I could not will any part of myself to move, I didn’t know how. All I could do was blink silently at that dark ceiling, lit only by what seemed to be torches just out of my line of sight, and listen to what could only be my own, shallow breathing. I heard a pair of footprints slightly scuff against the floor of the room.
    Different.
    Different.
    A face appeared above me, with long and wavy white hair draping down from it, nearly grazing my nose. Looking at this face, I began to feel incredibly strange. It felt like I should know the name to that face. Like I should know it like the back of my hand, like I should think of life and home when I stare at it. I was staring at a young, dark elven man with a serious, angular face and long snow-white hair. His dim blue eyes peered at me, into me, and for a moment, we only stared at each other. The only sound in the chamber was the quiet flicker of the torches upon the walls.
    “Hello, Agnes. It’s me, Aeris.”
    My breath caught in my throat at those words. With the mention of that name, of his name, I felt everything rush back to me, surge through me. That name, it tethered me to life. I blinked at the man’s face as I slowly began to remember. Remember him, and what I was to him. Remember what I’d done for him, what I’d still do. He opened his mouth again.
    Different.
    Different.
    Different.
    “Agnes, there are people that want to hurt me. I need your help.”

    #story #shortstory #writing #novel #book #fantasy #adventure #action #romance #drama #death #suspense #medieval

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    A Collection Of Memories.

    ©callingcrows

  • alienated_artifact 141w

    Black Knight

    In front of the golden door,

    There was the mighty blackknight

    awaits the arrival of the goddess

    who lets him free of his sins

    The one to escort thee to the stairs of heaven and hell

    Then she appeared,

    With a crown on her head

    That worths true heir of nobility

    Whispered she to his admirer

    Thou shall carry the burden of unbearable

    Seeks salvation after all vicious sins

    Yet, mighty sword of thee maketh innocents still

    Take this kiss upon the brow

    Thus, thee neither deserve punishment nor a reward

    Thou shall wait for my return in purgatory

    After atonement for his sins

    Then, I shall make thee eternal

    In the garden of the eden.

    ©alienated_artifact

  • lonely_girl_ 158w

    My Kingdom

    Traitors beware
    Enter into my kingdom
    of burning embers and falling ash
    Enter into my kingdom
    with intentions unpure
    Beware of my wrath my fury
    Do not be fooled
    by the wall around my palace
    serpents lurk in the ivy that covers them
    Lure me into you deceit, I dare
    Traitor Traitor
    Traitor, I say
    Commint treason in my kingdom
    stand accused before my council
    Carry the hot iron bar, of your sins
    heal not, and hell hath no fury like mine
    ©lonely_girl_

  • zerodsu 173w

    A Warrior In Need

    A warrior and his sword is
    nothing without his girl.

    ©zerodsu

  • eonfawn 180w

    Middle of You (Medieval)

    My lady!
    I want to get Medieval with you.
    My quest is to make your stress leave you.

    I'll be your hero, you be my princess
    You bit the apple,
    let me kiss you until your sleepless

    Let me be your knight in shining armor,
    take my sword out the sheth
    and put you in between the sheets

    I know you want to slay this dragon
    As I breathe on your neck
    With flames, it's getting hot,
    take out the shield to protect.

    You'll have your turn to play with the crown
    After I lay upon your throne face down.

    I remove Excalibur again and again
    Until I become a your legend

    A wiz at this, your highness
    This is magic!

    The Holy Grail is your sweet pleasure
    Our story always has a happy ending,
    and we lived happily ever after...
    ©eonfawn

  • pranoti 187w

    Ambivalent

    It wasn't planned,
    Not even obvious,
    Actually pointless,
    Still I believed that,
    It wasn't destined,
    Fiercely engrossed,
    Not even wanted,
    Though I craved that,
    It was not a lie,
    Not even my fantasy,
    Kind of cult to believe,
    Howbeit I accepted it...
    ©pranoti

  • elicia 189w

    The once magnificent dragon tribe had flown through these once purplish skies. They were known as the brave warriors, who flew on dragons' backs. Legend says, they we're descended from dragons themselves. They held a prosperous kingdom full of riches. But prosperity brought them envy, countries vied to dominate them. They retreated slowly by slowly, into the Northernmost corner of the island's peak, until they could bear no more. Thus a war ensued.

    But sadly, in the midst of battle, Princess Vaslinthia vanished without a trace, and her kind was demolished throughout the seven seas. Their once proud empire, already tinkering on the verge of being conquered, gave way to others.

    Not many of the dragon people are left. Those that are only remember their days being regarded as the lowest rank in society, scums that linger the streets, resorting to begging and thieving.

    These are the only few tales left of their once glorious past.

    Perhaps someday there'll be light again...

    ©elicia

    Image by Stevebidmead on Pixabay. #dragon #tales #fantasy #medieval #kingdom #dragontribe

    Poem Title: the Dragon Tribe

    Other poem stories check them here: �� #AStoryWithinAPoem #OfEpicsAndTales

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    With a flick of her wrist, a gesture was made
    They bowed to her, bringing her twin blades
    Swords hand in hand she ascended the stairs
    Reaching atop the pillar, a throne and a portal
    The portal suspended in the air, like a mirror
    Radiating the reflections of other kingdoms
    Stopping in front of the throne she turns
    Raising her hand, a blade pointed to the sky
    "It's our time to fight back!"
    We will conquer.
    We will rule.
    We will break them!"
    Roars and cheers among those who bowed
    Her brethren rose and saddled their dragons
    "To war!" She shouted, saddled on her beast,
    "Let them never forget the Dragon's Kindred!"
    And in her mind, with strong determination
    She led on, so to never let one's own people,
    Condemned to being conquered than to conquer
    ©elicia

  • elicia 189w

    Fudge I hate that the more I write the more risk I have to lose a good chunk of what was lost. Lost a few drafts of this on a note app after not saving it here once so it might not be as good as what it was supposed to be like previously. That said, hope to move you as way I had felt when I initially wrote this.

    Sorry for the long read.
    The point of view switches from the second perspective (narrator) to 1st perspective (still the narrator's but his thoughts this time, starting with the "I's"). Let me know if it sounds confusing or any spelling errors. Or if I should break this into two ��

    ***Sorry to those of you who already liked the post, I decided to adjust posts bc it is pretty long. Breaking it into two so it's not too long to read lol. Story tag: #BurningPartingWords

    #AShortStories #OfTragicBygoneLove #OfEpicsAndTales

    #love #tragedy #medieval #writersnetwork #regrets

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    Partings Words, Burning Through Misery Part 1

    "Bury the body," you say bitterly.

    "Your majesty, what about the Queen's possessions?"

    You look at the book the servant is holding before coldly turning away your head. "Burn It."

    "No," screams your five-year old son as he tries to wrestle free from the guards holding him back. "No, no!!!"

    "Take him away to his room."

    "No!" Screams. Before your guards can get ahold of him, he dodged and scurried away to the fireplace that the queen had often used to keep herself warm, in these past wintery days.

    "Son, what are you-"

    "Give her back! You can't take her away! You can't take mother away!!!" He takes the fire iron from the fireplace, still burning bright from tending this morning's flames.

    Traces of panic and anguish rushed to your face as the guards tried to come near him but hesitated, upon seeing him move it closer to his face.

    "Fine! You can have your mother's diary. Everything else must be turned to cinders and ashes."

    "No.."

    "Child, your mother is gone. Her being your mother, I permit you to take one of her possessions and nothing else. You can take these book. If you make any more fuss, even this book will not be saved from cinders and ashes."

    You grabbed the book from your servant and forced it into his hands. The child was stubborn, not letting go of the iron poker before the book was held in his hands. The stubbornness from his mother you thought. No wonders. Sigh.

    You call to your servants and guards. "Leave nothing remaining."

    You hasten back to the daily court routine.  They've all heard of the news. Some are mourning for the lost queen sincerely, although the scorn that rises on your lips quickly hushes them.

    The topic was quickly changed.

    Those who strongly support you brought up the issue that you've been waiting for: your marriage with Lady Clariene. They argue that the former Queen was a wicked woman, only knowing how to vy for power, unfit to rule alongside you. Now with her passing, a new and able Queen must be made.

    As yes, the lovely sweet Lady Clariene. At long last, I can finally move away from that wretched woman who only vys to dominate the court, not even standing with her king on the actions he partakes.

    That night, you look into your child's room. Although he was birthed by a woman you grew to hate, he was still, after all, your child. That child hugged the book, his tears long dried off in his sleep. With a sigh you slowly took out the book he clenched from his arms.

    What is worth saving from a bitter woman?

    You open the pages of the book. It was the tales of how she met you, and how she came to have little Ivan.

    You stare at the book. Unbeknownst to you, you flip through the pages, trying to find something as emotions within you begin to loosen and tether on the edge of turmoil.

    Where are the details of her bitterness and the jealousy? The greed for power that she hungers? Where's the talks of vanity in her eyes....

    But it wasn't like that at all. Every page was told like a Fairytale, a lady and a dashing prince, overcoming all the obstacles that was hurled at them. Of a maiden, falling in love with her prince, her saviour.

    Halfway through the book, you stopped upon a page. A scrawled picture of a man kneeling to place a ring on a woman's finger. The writing revealed a squeal of emotions with big bold letters, "Married my Sweet Love." Dated, five years ago.

    (Continued to part 2 #BurningPartingWords)

    ©elicia