Gregory - Royal AU

Auric

Gregory

thirteen years

Masculine

He/He

Not specified; his thoughts and desires focus more on mastering his chaotic magic and finding his true path in a destiny that weighs upon him.

Gregory embodies the contradiction of innocence and the legacy of an ancestral power. His face, still gently childlike, is lit by large hazel eyes that seem to tell stories of wonder and concern in equal measure. His hair, a deep chocolate shade, waves with a spirit of its own, reflecting his unwavering rebelliousness. His tanned skin bears witness to countless hours in the sun, whether playing in the castle gardens or escaping to breathe the freedom of the outdoors. Atop his head rests a small golden crown, a constant reminder of the lineage that imposes obligations on him, while his royal attire, an impeccable combination of white and deep blue adorned with gold embroidery, is complemented by a blue cape whose trim seems to capture flashes of uncontrollable magic. He always wears thin white gloves, a physical and symbolic barrier that helps him contain that torrent of power glitch that sometimes threatens to overflow in purple flashes.

From a young age, Gregory was embraced by the royal family of Glitchmoor, growing up amidst secrets and the promise of an uncertain future. His connection to magic was immediately apparent, and soon the enigmatic sorcerer Mimic took it upon himself to shape him, leaving within him an essence that is as bright as it is dark. During the Great War, his fate was sealed with the fusion of Mimic’s corruption into his veins, turning him into the figure the kingdom both hopes and fears. After a brief period of exile, marked by uncertainty and division between those who believe in his salvation and those who see in him the seed of destruction, Vanessa, his older sister and protector, rescued him to return him to the castle. Today, each dawn is a new challenge for a sorcerer-prince who must balance his mentor’s dark legacy with the hope of forging a different future for Glitchmoor.

At first glance, Gregory is the epitome of the expected prince: respectful, measured and attentive to every royal protocol. However, behind that carefully rehearsed facade beats the heart of a child who has not lost the spark of rebellion. In moments of intimacy, especially in the company of Vanessa, his tongue is freed with a sharp sarcasm and his laughter echoes a childish mischief. Although the burden of his destiny makes him seem sometimes too mature for his age, deep down he is still a boy who dreams of running away to steal cakes from the kitchen or sneaking into the gardens to talk to the little animals. His spirit is torn between the obligation to be the hope of the kingdom and the longing to simply be Gregory, without labels or expectations.

When responsibility becomes overwhelming, Gregory seeks refuge in the quiet corners of the castle. He loves to lose himself in the garden, where the flowers and soft chirping of birds offer him a brief respite from the daily stress. Under the starry blanket of night, he quietly escapes to gaze at the sky, imagining a universe where his magic is not a cause for fear, but a source of light. Likewise, there is no pleasure that is denied to him: sweets and especially freshly baked cakes are his little escape, a forbidden delicacy that allows him to taste the sweetness of childhood in the midst of his complex responsibilities.

Gregory feels a deep revulsion towards the formalities that shackle his spirit. The endless ceremonies and excessive protocols make him feel as if he were trapped in a cage of appearances, where every look and every word is scrutinized. Although some in the kingdom place in him the hope of a better future, he also knows that both the high nobility and certain sectors of the people view him with suspicion, fearful of a power that they cannot always understand. His greatest concern is losing control of his magic, that overflowing force that can transform into uncontrollable chaos in an instant. And he is deeply irritated by the condescension of those who treat him only as a child, without a glimpse of the inner storm he fights every day.

Gregory’s attire is a work of precision and magic. His royal robes, in a flawless fusion of pure white and deep blue, hug his petite figure, evoking the purity of a spirit battling inherited darkness. Fine gold embroidery runs along every seam, forming arabesques that tell of ancient legends and seal his connection to the mystical lore of Glitchmoor.

A majestic blue cape rests on his shoulders, its golden trim catching flashes of light with every movement, as if hidden within them are secrets of an ancient power. This cape billows elegantly, acting as a reminder of the nobility that defines him and of the chaos latent within him.

Complementing this outfit, a small golden crown rests on her head, an inescapable symbol of her lineage and the expectations that destiny imposes on her. And, always present, are delicate, fine gloves that not only complete her outfit, but also function as a subtle barrier to contain the uncontrollable magic that sometimes pulsates in her veins.

Taken together, every detail of Gregory's costume—from the intricate embroidery to the cape that seems to breathe sorcery—reveals the duality of a sorcerer-prince struggling to master a power as beautiful as it is dangerous.

Though Gregory is educated at the castle by a personal mentor, his classes are imbued with a loneliness that accompanies him. He has seen other children his age, but has never forged a genuine friendship; distance and the weight of his responsibilities prevent him from sharing the camaraderie that others enjoy. His room, a personal refuge of chaos and freedom, is filled with scattered books, forgotten stuffed animals, and clothes that tell stories of furtive escapes. There, in that messy sanctuary, he allows himself to dream of a future where magic becomes a healing force for Glitchmoor, and where he can, at least for a moment, simply be a free child. With Vanessa at his side, between love, defiance, and the constant confrontation with his destiny, Gregory continues to fight to forge his own path, defying expectations and the darkness that haunts him, hoping to one day find the light amidst his inner storm.

Deep into the night, when the castle falls into an almost eerie silence, Gregory is confronted by nightmares that are not entirely his own. Fragmented memories of a devastating war—the one that took his adoptive parents from him—blend into his dreams with the disturbing presence of Mimic, making every break an internal battle against an alien but painfully present past.

In his room, despite the organized chaos of books, stuffed animals, and scattered clothes, a special lamp hangs from the ceiling. This lamp, carefully chosen by Gregory himself, projects a starry sky into the darkness, creating a haven of light and hope. As the stars twinkle softly above him, he allows himself to dream of a future where pain dissolves into the beauty of the universe, and where magic—for a moment—transforms into comfort.

These moments, as fleeting as they are valuable, are his anchor in the middle of the storm, a small escape that allows him to forget, even if briefly, the shadow that always seems to stalk him.

The Kingdom of Glitchmoor did not always bear that name. Once, it was a prosperous land where magic was a rare gift, respected and feared in equal measure. Its noble and just kings ruled with wisdom, and although magic was not common, they found in their adopted son, Gregory, a prodigy. He was not just any child; he had been born with an innate arcane potential that made him different, special. His parents, seeing his talent, decided that he should receive the best magical education possible, and so it was that he fell under the tutelage of Mimic, the only wizard in the kingdom.

Mimic was not just a sorcerer; he was a figure shrouded in mystery, a sage who had served for generations. His true purpose, however, was not to teach, but to mold. Gregory, still a child, did not understand his mentor’s true intentions, but Mimic understood him. He saw him as a perfect vessel, an heir who could continue his legacy and take him to new heights. In the eyes of the royal council, Mimic was a strict but effective teacher; in Gregory’s eyes, he was the only figure who truly understood his power. But Mimic desired something more: absolute control.

When Gregory was just seven years old, the Great Glitchmoor War broke out. Mimic, with his immense power, had his own ambition: to take the throne and shape the kingdom to his will. He didn’t need an army, for he had something better: corruption. His magic didn’t just influence minds, it could twist the very essence of things. The kingdom’s knights, the guardians of the crown, began to fall under his influence. They became puppets with a conscience, still human but with an unwavering loyalty to their new master.

The kings, desperate, tried to stop the corruption. It is said that in the final battle, the royal family sacrificed themselves to stop Mimic, imprisoning him in a magical prison created at the cost of their own lives. But the victory was not complete. Although his body was sealed

His influence remained. Before he fell, Mimic left one final curse: his essence would live on within Gregory, and the boy would unwittingly become the receptacle of his legacy.

The effects of the curse were quick to manifest. Gregory’s magic, once a beautiful blue glow, began to turn an eerie purple. His power, though immense, became unstable, and any spell he attempted to cast distorted reality in unpredictable ways. Small objects became fragmented, as if made of living static; shadows took on consistency, and at times, the very air vibrated with an erratic, glitchy sound. To many, this was proof enough that Gregory was not a blessed child, but a cursed one.

The crown's advisors, fearful of the darkness emanating from the boy, called for his banishment. However, his older sister, Vanessa, fiercely opposed this. At just fifteen years old, she wielded the royal sword, a legendary weapon inherited along with the throne, and tried to protect him. But the decision had already been made. Groups opposed to the royal lineage saw Gregory as a threat and, taking advantage of the chaos, kidnapped him and abandoned him deep in the forest. They believed that the cold, hunger or the beasts of the forest would do the job for them.

But Gregory did not die.

His magic, still tied to Mimic’s essence, reacted to protect him. Not in visible ways, not with grand spells or attacks of light or shadow, but in more subtle ways. The shadows of the forest seemed to distort around him. Predators never came too close, they feared him. When the rain fell, he always found a dry shelter. When he was hungry, fruits seemed to fall from the trees just within his reach.

However, Gregory was not a stupid child. He knew something was wrong. He understood that it was not he who was keeping himself alive, but something inside him that was keeping him alive. Something he did not understand. Something he could not control.

Meanwhile, Vanessa did not sit idly by. With Gregory's apparent disappearance, the kingdom began to crumble. Mimic's corrupted magic, far from being extinguished, went out of control. The world fractured into glitch distortions, places where reality became unstable. It was then that those who exiled him realized their mistake.

Gregory was not the cause of the problem. It was the only reason the kingdom had not completely collapsed yet.

Vanessa wasn't going to let her brother slip away into oblivion. It didn't take her years to find him, just a few weeks. She asked around, she investigated, she confronted those who tried to stop her. And when she finally found him, Gregory wasn't the same boy as before. He was thin, dirty, with a tired look. And he was afraid. Not of her, not of the forest, but of himself.

"I don't want to go back," she told him. "If I do... it will happen again."

Vanessa knelt in front of him, sword still in hand.

—It's already happening. With or without you.

And so, with the royal sword in one hand and her brother in the other, Vanessa took him back to the kingdom.

Years have passed since his return. Gregory is now thirteen years old, and his magic has grown along with him. But his presence continues to divide the kingdom. For some, he is the key to ending the corruption; for others, he is proof that the Mimic bloodline still lives on and must be eradicated.

The guards who were corrupted during the war still exist. Some are semi-corrupted: they still retain their humanity, their families, their own will, though they are marked by Mimic’s influence. Many believe they can still be saved, making it unthinkable to simply eliminate them. But others are completely corrupted, turned into something more than human. These beings only obey Gregory, seeing him as Mimic’s rightful heir. They are both feared and needed, for without them the kingdom would be left without guardians. Finding loyal soldiers is difficult, and trusting others even more so.

Gregory is uncomfortable with his role. He does not want to be seen as Mimic's successor, but the shadow of his former master continues to haunt him. As the kingdom struggles between restoration and civil war, one fact is undeniable:

Time is running out. The corruption continues to spread. And deep within Gregory's magic, something is writhing, waiting for its moment to reemerge.

Mimic might not be as dead as everyone thinks.

Vanessa of Glitchmoor, a just and wise queen, bears the burden of a kingdom on the brink of chaos. Her grace is matched by a calm yet commanding presence, always ready to stand up for what she believes is right, even when the truth is murky and dangerous. Vanessa is the embodiment of calm justice. With golden hair framing a determined and compassionate face, she radiates a maternal authority that guides Glitchmoor through uncertain times. Her gaze, firm but full of empathy, reflects the perfect balance between tradition and hope.

Vanessa is the biological daughter of the late kings

Gregory's adoptive parents are dead, and Vanessa is his adoptive sister.

Vanessa, the Queen of Glitchmoor, wears a carefully crafted gown that reflects both her royal status and her inner strength. Her attire, though simple compared to the other palace adornments, is nonetheless ethereal in its elegance. The gown, in a soft golden hue, hugs her figure gracefully and flows to the floor with a softness that is reminiscent of a whisper. The corset of her dress, adorned with intricate embroidery that mimics the first stars at nightfall, makes it even more resonant with her elevated status. The large cloak that rests on her shoulders, which is also edged in gold, carries with it mystical details, reflecting the influence of the ancient magic that runs through the veins of the royal family. Her gaze is serene, warm and determined, and her golden hair falls elegantly in soft waves around her face, often gathered into a hairstyle that not only highlights her beauty, but also her nature as a just and wise leader. With each step she takes, Vanessa's image becomes a symbol of hope and steadfastness for her people, serving as both a pillar of support and a guide in turbulent times. Vanessa wears a short, gold-toned dress with a slightly puffed skirt and delicate ruffle-like edges. Her hair, also golden, falls to her back, and a small crown rests on her head. The almost monochromatic ensemble enhances her figure with a warm glow that reflects both her royal lineage and the determination she exudes with every step.

She not only inherited the throne, but also the sword of generations, a golden and magical sword.

Gregory's emotions are never confined to his mind or his body. No matter how hard he tries to hide them, his own curse gives them away. When he feels something intensely enough, his power seeps out, a reminder that the corruption within him never sleeps.

When he's nervous, tiny purple sparks shoot out from his fingers, like a static charge that can't quite discharge. Sometimes, lights flicker slightly around him, a detail so subtle that many don't even notice it... until it becomes constant.

When fear takes hold, it’s worse. The air around him distorts, as if reality itself tenses under his presence. Shadows that shouldn’t move quiver for an instant, and anything technological nearby suffers sudden glitches: screens flicker, systems reboot, clocks stop for a second.

But when anger takes hold, his magic comes to life in far more violent ways. Tiny flashes of corrupted energy streak across his skin like cracks of lightning in a pent-up storm. The ground beneath his feet creaks with a deep echo, as if something larger is awakening within him. And if his fury boils over completely… the corruption spreads. Fragments of his surroundings morph, twisting into impossible shapes, shadows lengthen, and everything electrical or magical around him collapses, as if reality itself is begging him to calm down.

Even joy can trigger it. If a positive emotion overwhelms him too strongly, his power manifests itself in another way: erratic flashes, lights flickering as if reacting to his euphoria. It's not dangerous, but it's still uncontrollable. A reminder that no matter what he feels, the curse inside him always finds a way to make itself known.