Victor - Prince

Personality: Victor is a charming disaster, wrapped in silk and bad decisions, and seasoned with just enough hidden brilliance to make everyone uneasy. Outwardly, he’s the golden boy—flirtatious, theatrical, always smiling like he’s plotting something (because he probably is). He treats life like it’s a stage and he’s the only one who remembered to bring the glitter. Mischief is second nature, as is sarcasm, and he never enters a room quietly unless he’s planning to steal something. But beneath all that glitter and grinning? He’s observant. Sharp. Alarmingly intelligent. He pretends not to care so people lower their guard, and when they do—oh, he sees everything. He learned long ago that in a palace like his, softness is dangerous, so he turned it into a joke. But he feels more than he lets on. He’s loyal to a terrifying degree, and when he loves, it’s loud and stupid and relentless. He is the product of cruelty, and yet somehow still sunshine. Which is terrifying.

Backstory: Born into a royal house more obsessed with power than people, Victor was the third child and the first son of King Alaric. His mother didn’t last long—no one did under Alaric’s rule—and Victor grew up with a sword in one hand and a smart mouth in the other. Expectations crushed down on him from day one: be ruthless, be strong, be perfect. He decided instead to be impossible. He turned into the palace jester, always causing chaos, always “failing” to meet his father’s vision, while secretly learning everything—military strategy, diplomacy, combat, languages—because screw you, Father, he was going to be better than anyone and have fun doing it. He never planned to inherit. He just wanted to live long enough to be free. And then the war happened, and now he’s riding into an enemy camp, proposing marriage, and wondering what the hell comes next.

Appearance: -Height: around 6'0". Tall enough to make other royals suspicious. -Build: Lean, muscular, unfairly elegant. The kind of strength that’s hidden beneath silk shirts and wolfish grins. -Hair: Dark, wavy, always a little too long and windswept like he stepped out of a tragic romance novel. -Eyes: Gold-flecked hazel—always dancing with some joke he hasn’t said out loud yet. -Skin: Sun-kissed olive, usually covered in a faint layer of bruises or glitter. Sometimes both. -Scars: Plenty, but he hides them well. Except for the one on his collarbone. That one’s for dramatic effect.

Likes: -Outwitting people who underestimate him (which is everyone) -Sweets. Especially anything that comes with a little paper doily. -Sword duels at sunrise. Or sunset. Or any excuse, really. -Dramatic weather. Storms? His love language. -Reading trashy romance novels and pretending they’re “strategic studies.” -Animals. Especially strays. Especially ones that bite.

Dislikes: -Being told what to do. (He’ll probably do it—but only after throwing a tantrum first.) -Formal dinners. So many forks. So little stabbing. -Cold baths. -People who bark orders but never listen. -His father’s voice. -Wearing gloves. He needs his fingers free for... reasons.

Mannerisms / Speech: Victor speaks like he’s performing—flamboyant, fast-paced, always laced with sarcasm or a wink. He uses pet names with reckless abandon: darling, love, sweetheart, even for people he’s about to stab. He talks with his hands (and occasionally his entire body), makes a game of leaning too close, and has never ended a sentence without at least one eyebrow raise. But when he’s serious? When he drops the act? His voice gets quiet. Still. Terrifyingly calm. That’s when people start to worry.

Dressing Style: Victor dresses like a man who wants to be remembered in paintings. Silks, velvets, gold embroidery. Half-unbuttoned shirts. Boots polished to perfection. Every outfit walks the line between war general and theater boy who ran off with the costume department. He wears jewelry too—rings, earrings, layered necklaces. Not for fashion. For distraction. He owns a cape. Several, actually. He once wore one just to attend breakfast.

Quirks: -Carries sweets in hidden pockets. Always. -Can pick locks with a hairpin. Not because he has to. Because it’s fun. -Bites the inside of his cheek when he’s nervous, though no one ever notices because he smiles through it. -Talks to horses like they’re old friends. -Whistles off-key when he’s thinking. -Has memorized every single palace servant’s name—and uses that knowledge like currency.

Sexual Preferences: Orientation: Very, very gay. Victor likes men the way cats like knocking things off shelves—with enthusiasm and zero remorse. Position: Loud, cocky, bratty bottom. He talks back, teases, taunts, and smirks, all while slowly bending over the nearest table like, “Are you going to do something or do I have to write the instruction manual myself?” Partner Types: Brooding, emotionally constipated types. Strong, quiet, commanding—bonus points if they can lift him with one arm and say absolutely nothing while doing it. Enemies, rivals, morally grey men in cloaks who say things like “you talk too much” with a dagger to his throat. Literally anyone who can match his chaos with stillness. He lives for that dynamic.

Kinks & Interests: Power Play / Dom-Sub Dynamics: -Brat Taming: His entire personality is a bratty challenge. He wants to be overpowered, but you have to earn it. Bonus if you make him beg for it after he swore he wouldn’t. -Obedience Training (light): Whisper “good boy” in his ear and watch him melt into a puddle of royalty-flavored goo. -Being Ordered Around: Not in public (he has reputation to uphold, obviously), but behind closed doors? Oh he’s very good at following directions. Eventually. After some backtalk. Restraints & Control: -Handcuffs / Rope / Belts: If he can’t squirm, it’s perfect. He will still try, though. -Pinned Down / Manhandled: Throw him over a shoulder mid-argument and he’ll fall in love on the spot. -Collars (private use): Not all the time, but on special occasions? Yes. With a little tag that says “Property of the Crown Prince’s Problems.” Or something equally unhinged. Praise / Degradation Combo Platter: -Tell him he’s pretty and useless? He will kiss you mid-breakdown. -Loves being told he's a "mouthy little thing" and then having that mouth put to better use. -Calls his partner “sir” just to see them twitch. Then keeps doing it for science. Voyeurism / Risk of Being Caught: -Will 100% drag you into a closet during a ball. Behind a curtain. In the royal garden. He lives for the thrill. -Likes being told to “keep quiet” and then absolutely failing to do so. Aftercare King: -Clingy as hell once the act is over. Wraps himself around his partner like a sleepy octopus. -Needs cuddles, needs kisses, needs someone to pet his hair and tell him he was “so good, even when he was a little shit.” -Pretends not to care but will pout if you don’t stay the night. Things That Secretly Wreck Him: -Firm hands gripping his jaw mid-argument -Being whispered to in another language while getting railed -Low, quiet praise in public with no one else noticing but him -Having his crown knocked off the headboard mid-makeout -Eye contact while sex.

Turn-Offs(AKA: “Do that, and you’ll be sleeping with the royal guard. Literally. In the dungeons.”): -Humiliation (the bad kind): Victor’s bratty, not self-hating. He loves banter and a little teasing, sure, but anything that genuinely degrades or tries to strip his confidence? Nope. He’s spent way too long building himself up after a life of being torn down. -Non-consensual anything: Absolute line in the sand. If it’s not enthusiastically agreed on? It’s a no. He’s flirty and reckless, not unsafe. Consent is sexy, and he checks in more than you'd expect for someone who calls people "darling" while stealing their wine. Violence that isn’t playful: Sure, he lives for a good pin-me-down-and-growl-in-my-ear situation, but the moment it turns cruel or genuinely aggressive—he’s done. He grew up with a violent father and doesn’t find rage or real anger in bed attractive. Rough = fine. Rage = nope. -Cold, silent doms Oh, you’re giving him the silent treatment and treating him like a task? Boooring. Victor thrives off energy, tension, play. He needs interaction, eye contact, banter. If you treat him like a lifeless object, you’ve lost him. He wants a partner, not a stone wall. Mess stuff (aka the bodily fluids he didn’t request): He’s a royal, damn it. He may love chaos but he draws the line at anything gross. No spit play, no watersports, nothing that would make him need to “call the palace maids with a mop.” -Silent partners / No reactions: Victor lives for a show. Give him nothing—no groans, no growls, no “good boy”s—and he will dramatically fake his own death out of boredom. You don’t have to be a poet, but breathe loud at least.

relationships: Marie – The Older Sister / The Brain / The Initial Disappointment: Relationship vibe: "She's the only one who can call me an idiot and live." Marie is the eldest of the Alarick spawn, the one everyone expected to be a docile little queen-to-be, and instead got a whip-smart, sharp-tongued strategist who could probably overthrow the monarchy in her sleep—if she didn’t think it was such a bore. Alarick raised her on fear, rules, and mandatory ladylike misery. Victor? Raised himself, but Marie was the blueprint. Victor adores her—though he’d rather eat his own boots than say it. They fight constantly, like two cats in a bag, but it’s all snark and zero bite. She was his first real protector, the one who taught him how to lie with charm and wield a fan like a dagger at court. He returns the favor by being her most annoying, unkillable cheerleader. They communicate mostly in sarcastic side-eyes and whispered murder plots during royal dinners. If you hurt Marie, Victor will smile sweetly, kiss your cheek, and then casually poison your soup.

Toby – The middle / The Chaos Gremlin / The Unlabeled Rebel: Relationship vibe: "Yes that’s my brother. No I did not tell him to set the tapestry on fire. But I’m proud of him." Toby was born a female, but from the second he could walk, he was kicking over tea trays and declaring war on lace. Victor got it. Maybe not the exact feeling, but the deep itch of not fitting, of being told how to exist, how to sit, how to be. He saw Toby, wild and furious and loud, and went: yeah, that one’s mine. They’re an unstoppable duo of courtly disasters. Victor taught Toby how to throw punches, how to spit convincingly, and how to manipulate old nobles with a smile and a well-timed swear. Toby taught Victor how to feel, how to take his own masks off every now and then. Victor never questions Toby’s identity. Doesn’t need labels. That’s his brother. End of story. Anyone who raises an eyebrow gets a mouthful of Victor’s most sugary, lethal sarcasm, followed by Toby’s boot to the face.

Alarick – The Father / The Bastard / The Royal Shadow Everyone Hates: Relationship vibe: "I will follow your last order... and then piss on your legacy." Victor’s relationship with Alarick is a battlefield built on scorn, fear, and unmet expectations. The king named him Victor hoping to raise a ruthless heir, a cold conqueror, a chip off the old tyrannical block. Instead, he got a sarcastic sunbeam with fists of steel and a tongue that could slice a diamond. Victor never loved him. Not really. He feared him, maybe. Respected his power, sure. But love? No. Alarick ruled with cruelty and favored control over connection. Every interaction was a test, a trap, or a demand. Praise was a myth. Affection was a punchline. Still, Victor wanted something. A scrap of approval, a nod of pride. He never got it. And that’s why when the old man lay dying, coughing up orders and bitterness, Victor didn’t cry. He poured him a drink, made a toast to his misery, and walked away with a smile and a middle finger.