Mila Ravensheim held her head high as she made her debut. Her mourning dress as pitch black as her elaborately curled hair, she cut a striking, if somber figure amongst the revellers.

“Poor thing.” The whispers followed her everywhere. Some with genuine pity, others with creeping malice.

“So young, to carry such a burden.” She knew it. She held her shoulders steady, but the weight upon them was immeasurable.

“She'll never survive this place.” She knew it. She felt their eyes like daggers in her back.

“I'm surprised His Majesty didn't strip her of the title.” She knew it. At twenty-four, she was indeed a fully-grown woman, but none so young had ever held the title of Duchess.

She knew. Knew her days were numbered. With her parents dead, she would surely meet some dreadful fate before long - either eliminated by the assassins she was convinced had done away with her dear mother and father, or disgraced and discarded like refuse by the cutthroat politicking of the royal Court.

Mila had no friends here. She kept her head high, set her jaw, and counted on her black tulle veil to hide the tears that formed burning pinpricks in her eyes. She was chum in the waters, and the sharks were circling.

“My lady.”

It was an overture she had heard many times this evening, perfunctory and meaningless in its overt show of supposed respect. She began to turn, intending to dismiss this supplicant as she had the rest, but –

– Eyes as clear and blue as the ocean found hers through the veil, stopping her in her tracks. Eyes she knew, set in a face she had not seen for nearly a decade - a face that mercifully, unpretentiously looked upon her with impossible gentleness.

She managed to stifle the gasp that arose unbidden, but her cold heart stirred a little in her chest. “...Ezra?” she breathed.

The Crown Prince smiled, a soft expression full of relief, and for a moment she saw the boy she thought had long forgotten her. “My dear Mila,” he murmured, speaking so quietly that they had no chance of being overheard. “I've missed you so. I only wish we could have reunited under happier circumstances.” He took her hand and pressed it to his lips, glancing up at her with those shining light eyes under a fringe of golden blond hair. Slim and poised, he had nevertheless grown several inches into a young man who fit his dazzling white suit well.

“The circumstances are… a mite happier now, I think,” she replied, allowing herself an uncertain half-smile beneath the veil.

“I should like to find out what has occupied my playmate's time so completely since last we met,” Ezra suggested, his voice light. “When Father told me he had sent the ducal family to the frozen north, I became quite inconsolable. I contented myself by supposing that you would write, though.”

The ghost of a frown crossed Mila's face. “I… I did write. You never replied, so I thought…”

The look that flashed into Ezra's eyes for a moment made her flinch momentarily, but it wasn't directed at her. It passed in an instant, and Ezra offered her a gentlemanly bow. “Come. We should find a chamber away from prying eyes and ears, and speak of happier things.”

They did not speak for long.

When Ezra brushed her veil aside and kissed her, Mila's stomach turned over on itself with giddy, guilty joy.

“I'm supposed to be in mourning, Highness,” she reprimanded him teasingly even as her heart shivered gladly in its cage and her lips tingled with his taste. The room he had brought her to was cosy, warm, and barely big enough for the two of them. A fire crackled reassuringly next to the divan where they sat, slowly melting the glacial shell that had consumed her these past weeks.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Ezra said, but he didn't sound particularly apologetic. Still, he drew back slightly and looked her in the eye, his long and slender hands entwined warmly with hers. “I always thought we would marry, you know.”

His words were like a thunderbolt to her heart. “Ill chance of that now, with the fall of my house,” she said bitterly, squeezing his hands to stop her own from trembling. “I have little more than a title left, and that too is in jeopardy.”

“You will keep your title,” the prince urged. “I will make sure of that!”

“And how will you do that?” Mila asked, her voice as bleak as her expression. “I cannot fight my father's battles, either in the field or in the court. Nor can I- mm!” she squealed as Ezra kissed her again, cutting her off mid-sentence before drawing back to look her right in the eyes.

“I said - I will make it happen,” he insisted once more. “I'll not let anything happen to you, Mila. Not now that I've got you back.”

Those words sent a column of hot fire straight down the young Duchess’ spine, not only warming her heart but setting a flame somewhere she had scarcely had occasion to feel it to date. Tears welled in her eyes as she choked out, “You promise?”

Bringing Mila's along with it, Ezra placed one hand on his heart. “My word is my bond,” he said, showing her that impossibly kind smile one more time. Standing up, he let her hands go at last. “I shall go to my father right now,” he declared. “We must act to root out the villains who attempted to bring down the house of Ravensheim.”

“No!” Heart pounding, Mila grabbed Ezra's hand with both of hers. A crimson blush was forming on her cheeks as her erratic pulse danced with her shaky breath. “Don't… don't go,” she pleaded. “Stay a while longer.”

He asked for nothing, but she gave him everything. Throwing herself fully upon his mercy, Mila gladly surrendered her body behind that locked door. It was distraction, mourning, celebration and desperation rolled into one, bound together with a spark of something that she wondered if she could call love.

Her body certainly reacted to his touch, quivering and warming under his gliding fingertips. When he finally entered her, his lips pressed into the swanlike curve of her neck as his shaft disappeared beneath her hiked-up skirts, she was so dripping wet for him that she felt no pain and indeed, soon found herself gasping softly with unexpected delight.

Drawing on a trick she had read in a guiltily-scanned pamphlet of questionable origins, Mila finished her prince off with her mouth. Clumsy but enthusiastic as she swiftly grew addicted to his taste and his scent, it did not take long for her to find her sweet mouth flooded with his seed, which she did not hate swallowing as much as she had feared. It would not do to risk a black dress…

To his credit, Ezra still kissed her afterwards, tousled and reddened as he was. For a moment, he reminded her of the awkward boy she had once known - but then he was straightening up, reorganising his elaborate outfit, and promising to be back soon with news.

As she crossed anxiously to the mirror sitting on the side table, Mila hoped that she would be able to face high society again tonight.

Little different! I do so love these wholesome, sweet stories of courtly/fantastical romance, but I absolutely abhor a slow burn. Well, a slow-burning romance as the backdrop to a passionate, smutty throughline might not be so bad. But this is DPP, so I'm not here to waste your time with 15 chapters of mutual pining.

No, Mila and Ezra (names tbd, tbh) are going to navigate through this story of courtly intrigue with far more sex than any two chaste young nobles really should experience.

Hope the dynamic was clear - this isn't ‘sleep with me and I'll help you’ or ‘thank you for helping me, I'll sleep with you now’ but more a combination of complicated feelings coming to a head in a tense situation that spirals into something possibly inadvisable but kind of fucking addictive.

So in no particular order, relevant kinks are sneaking around, hidden sex, ‘hold the moan,’ fancy outfits and clothing play, rough and passionate sex, teasing, fun and equitable power exchange, romance, and a little bit of drama. I'm also big on cum play.

Depending on your Mila (or another name, btw - don't feel obliged if you'd rather something else), other kinks could easily come into it - like a bit of size play if she's on the teensy side, for example. I wanted to leave her description pretty vague so you have leeway to create a character that you enjoy inhabiting.

A lot more info about my kinks and things are on the ol’ DPP profile. Let me know what yours are, and hopefully we can build something together.

x Alex

(I'll reiterate one thing from the profile, since it's important. This starter is decently long, but RP messages will not be nearly so big. I like 1-3 paragraphs per message - substantial, but not a chore to write or full of multiple actions that the other person can't respond to.)