Hey, guys! Guess who is, yet again, back with another SYOC! ME! Ok, so I've had this idea for a pretty long time, and I am pretty excited. Rules and form will be at the bottom and on the profile. Let us begin!

PS. I went crazy with the summary, so bear with me.


SUMMARY: The Shreave family had died out one hundred years ago, when the crown prince Isaak Peregrine Shreave was assassinated by northern rebels. His younger sister, Dorothea Florentia Shreave-Alisander, and her husband, Adolphus Cornelius Alisander became the monarchs. Adolphus continued the Selection for his son, Harcourt Cornelius Alisander. The Selection continued throughout the reign of the Alisanders to Lionel Wolfstan Alisander, the king of present day. He married Lavinia Ramsbury, who became queen, through the selection. A year later, twins Ezekiel and Emmeline Alisander were born, and they became crown prince and princess.

Soon, other children followed, and everything seemed fine for a while. Ezekiel and Emmeline were 18, and their own selections were in planning. They would have a competition through the Selection to find out who would become king and queen.

Until the night of their 19th birthday.

Officials found Ezekiel, sobbing, clutching Emmeline's dead body, stained with blood. A gun was laying nearby his hands, and the small gazebo they were in was burning to the ground. An investigation was made, and they discovered that Emmeline was shot, murdered. Murdered by her own twin, Ezekiel.

The public was outraged when they heard the news. The matter became conspiracy, and everyone had a side. For Ezekiel, or against it. King Lionel, due to the public's angry rampage and threats against an uprising against the monarchy, sent his son to Wolfsbane prison, where he has stayed for two years in grief and shame.

Until now.

Lionel has finally passed on, due to a fight against cancer. His last act as king pardoned his son for his crimes, granting him entrance back into the lives of his family. Ezekiel was now crown prince by default. A selection was put in place to stifle the anger of the public, to distract them.

But cracks are forming within the facade. People in the castle want Ezekiel, The King Of Ghosts, dead. Even some members of his own family. Their are spies hidden in the walls, and Ezekiel must save his country, before it crumbles from the inside.

OFFICIAL SONG FOR THE KING AND QUEEN OF GHOSTS: "Up In Flames" by Ruelle.


Keeping on the outside

Glimmer in the moonlight

Only shadows there dwell we are

Creeping on the edge of the dark


EZEKIEL


Ezekiel laid on his cot. A tanned, scarred hand raked through his brown hair, and he sighed. He nervously tapped his hands against his thigh, waiting.

Waiting for a visitor that would never come.

He let out a breath and stood up, walking alongside his room. Being a prince had its benefits, he was the only one in the room. It did, although, mean that he had to entertain himself with his mind.

And his mind was not very playful or entertaining.

His blue eyes looked across the small room, the room he had been confined to for the past three years. Lovely, wasn't it? He had his cot in the corner, a small white blanket draped across it, with a small teddy bear his sister had given her.

He wasn't even there to see her birthday.

Ezekiel looked around the room once more, trying to organize the mess, like he did every day. His desk (That had taken some bartering and begging) sat in the corner, a pad of paper laying on the wooden surface, a pen sitting atop it. Then there was his window.

His glorious, glorious window.

It was small, tiny compared to what he remembered of what the palace looked like, but it was his only remanent of his old life.

He sat near it, his eyes closing as he felt the wind whistle through the bars and caress his face, like the motherly touch he hadn't had for years.

Dammit, won't someone visit him? Is it too much to ask?

He asked himself these questions every day, every night, every afternoon. Why? Why? WHY?

He felt like screaming, like he had done every day for the past two years. Two years trapped, rotting in this hell.

Family really does care for one another.

The irony.

He finally stood up and walked over to his desk. Sitting down tentativly, he picked the pen up and started to write.

My Dear Castra,

Hello again. I had some leftover paper, and I thought about writing to you. How is Father? Last I saw him he was proud and tall, but I have heard about some helath issues from the whispers of the guards and other inmates. I hope he fares well, he is a good king.

Is Mother doing well? When the wind blows through the bars of my window, it still feels like when she tucked me and my siblings in at night. The good days. I have been thinking about the times when we couldn't go to sleep, and she used to make us cookies. Homemade, chocolate chip, heavenly. And remeber when we tried to recreate the recipe? Flour was everywhere!

How is my darling little mouse? I recieved your present earlier this week, the little teddy bear with the black buttons for eyes. I have namd him Sir Theodore. I hope you had a fantastic birthday, with delicious cake and glorious presents.

That is all, my lttle mouse, and the sun is starting to set. Sweet dreams.

Love,

Your Zeke.

He signed the letter with his name, the little nickname his Castra called him, since she still was unable to pronounce his name right. The last time he saw her, she was only four. Four years old, and she saw him carted away to prison, and a gravestone in the garden.

His sister's gravestone.

He sighed, longingly, and folded the letter into an envelope, and placed it in a small basket, where hundreds of other letters sat, undelivered.

Maybe one day he'll actually send them.

He pushed himself away from the desk and sat back down on his cot. What does he do now?

Suddenly, the cell's doors opened, and guards filed into the room. They were cold and silent, but one in the back bowed his head solemnly.

What's going on?

He stood up and looked at the guards, staring at him with unblinking eyes. "Well?" he asked hesistantly, noting their hands holding their weapons carefully.

"Ezekiel Percival Alisander," The guard captain said, stepping in front of the other guards, "You have been pardoned by King Lionel Wolfstan Alisander, as his last act."

Ezekiel was silent when he recieved the news, but he faltered when he heard the last words. He should be happy, right? He was free, he could see his family. But last act? His mouth went dry. "La-Last act?" he asked quietly, putting a hand on the wall to steady himself.

"King Lionel has passed away an hour ago," The Captain said. Passed away? Fa-Father's dead. Grief washed over him like a ocean wave, and he sat back down on his bed.

No, No, this couldn't be happening.

Father's dead, Father's dead.

He put his hands on his eyes, pushing the tears back away in his head, locking them away. He hasn't cried since Emmeline's death, and, god, Father was dead...

He took in a shaky breath, and put his hands on his head. "What are you doing here then?" he responded quietly, his brown orbs still squeezed shut.

"We are here to escort you to the palace in Angeles," they simply said. He nodded faintly and followed them as they led him out of the jail cell. Strange, he hadn't left that cell since they last put him in there. He could hear the other prisoner's voices hushed low as he walked past, feeling their gaze penetrate his skull. He felt numb, hollow, out in the open. He only felt his heartbeat and the voice in his head, that stirred up the grief and the pain.

"Look, there he goes, The King Of Ghosts," a prisoner whispered to another. King of Ghosts, huh? It fitted. He was the king of ghosts, the bringer of death.

He promised his father that he would be there. He promised he would be there at his deathbed.

He promised.

A tear slipped down his cheek, quiet and slow, and he simply wiped it with the back of his hand, making sure no one saw the grief swelling and pooling in his eyes.

He promised.


We feel warmth in the cold corners

Eyes in the back of our heads

We roll out when the day's over

Chasing silhouettes


AARON


Aaron didn't think he would see that, that bastard, dare step out of his prison cell. His green eyes seethed with hate as he put an arm across the stairs, protecting Lucille from that monster. Lucille looked up at him with green eyes, her dress hanging thin on her frame.

"You," Aaron glowered, his voice laced with antipathy.

Ezekiel stood by the door, the guards surrounding him and his hands behind his back. "Hello, Aaron. I was wondering when I would see you again," he said cooly, his eyes stained red.

Aaron let out a sigh and chuckled. "I was hoping never, brother." He pushed Lucille behind his back as a little girl bounded down the stairs in rapid speed, blonde hair flying across her face. "Zeke!" Castra shouted, running down the stairs, her teeth in a crooked smile. Ezekiel smiled, how could he smile, and bent down. She giggled and hugged him around the neck, before asking timidly, "Why weren't you at my party?"

He chuckled ruefully, and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was busy, darling," he stated, a badly veiled excuse. He was in jail, like the criminal he was and always has been.

"Mother's waiting for you upstairs," he stated coldly, making sure Lucille was behind him. Ezekiel nodded solemnly and walked up the stairs, passing him. Aaron, however, stayed in his spot.

After Ezekiel walked back into father's room, he waved for Castra and Lucillle to follow him. He walked up the stairs, feeling the family's weight of their grief and shame of having a murderer in their home.

Father just died, and he won't have that man become Lionel's legacy.

Not if he could help it.


When it all goes up in flames

When it all goes up in flames

We'll be the last ones standing

We'll be the last ones

We'll be the last ones standing


LAVINIA


The queen rested her hand against her husband's own, lifeless hand. A dainty hand of her own was clasped around her mouth, tears staining her cheeks. She closed her eyes, muffling the sobs that rose in her throat.

Lionel, her Lionel, was dead.

Why?

She closed her pale blue eyes and continued to cry, slipping off her chair and resting her head against his bedframe.

Til death do us part. That was his marriage vow.

Til death do us part.

She folded her legs underneath her, ruffling her dress underneath the satin layers, and let out another cry, her mascara ruined beyond repair, her heart shattered into a million little pieces, settling between her lungs.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, but she could barely recognize it.

"Mom," the voice said. She recognized that voice, her son.

"Ezekiel," she said, her voice quivering, as she turned around. My, how he'd grown. His hair was long now, curly around his head. His eyes showed grief, and she simply patted his shoulder.

Why did she have to send her son, her son, away?

"I'm sorry I have to see you at such a time," she murmured, pulling her son for a hug. She hadn't seen him, she hadn't seen him for so long because she was ashamed.

"I'm sorry," she simply stated, to be met with a simple response by Ezekiel. "No, I'm sorry."

She nodded, and pulled away. "I, I am so sorry to thrust this upon you," she simply said, before she looked down. "Since, since you have been pardoned, you are now the crown prince."

Ezekiel's eyes widened and he stepped away. He stood up and rested a hand on Lionel's arm. "I-I'm crown prince?"

"By default, since you have been pardoned, and I'm so sorry to thrust this upon you," Lavinia said, standing up to rest a hand on Ezekiel's.

"You are crown prince, and next in throne."


City made of thin glass

Smoldering in pitch black

Sin so thick you can't see the stars

Can't tell good and evil apart


OK! There we go! So, did you like? Did you? Did you? Anywho, so we have introduced you to Ezekiel, My precious little child who is too pure for this world, his parents, and the basic construction of the story. So, I am pretty pumped, and I am gonna need some OCs! RULE TIME!


1) No Mary Sues or America copies

2) Your character is allowed to be a One, only if they are a Baroness. But I don't want a whole bunch of Ones, like one or two, tops.

3) You are allowed to submit a maximum of four characters, but they aren't allowed to know each other prior to the Selection. I may not select all, but maybe just one or two. OR EVEN ALL OF THEM!

4) This SYOC is not first come, first serve. The Elite will be made up of detailed characters with lots of background, I can promise you that your character is more likely to get kicked out earlier if they don't have lots of details and background.

5) I only want original characters, please! No OC's from other stories, I'll know.

6) DETAIL! I want lots and lots of detail!

7) Not every girl is blonde and blue eyed, and not all girls are "kind, caring, funny, gentle, etc.." (But some are). I want deep characters who have history, real problems, and real opinions.

8) I don't want just threes and fours. I want lowly girls, Eights, or sevens, everyone has a purpose!

9) Please submit them to me through PM, and have the title be, "Name, age, caste, occupation, province - King And Queen Of Ghosts."

10) I want this to be really interactive, If you have a pinterest, tell me, and I would love it if you made a board for your character! I am under RainIsMyMusic, and I have all the info (Faceclaims, castle, clothes, etc.) on there as well!

11) Everyone has a side on The Emmeline Murder. Most believe Ezekiel did it to become the king, but some believe it was a crime of passion, and he sufferes grief from it. (I can't tell you what really went down until later!)


I'm gonna do ten elite, and ten supporting, just so everything doesn't get crazy now. IM SUPER EXCITED FOR THIS STORY! WOOHOO!

ALSO, I am having a cover contest (Send the submissions to me at my pinterest), and the winner gets a date with my lovely child Ezekiel!

The Info bout' the royals, and the form on the profile! Can't wait to see your characters!

-Rain