forum Mafia Princess (OxO Closed)

Started November 27, 2022 by @ElderGod-yellowqueen

tune

I am on a mafia x arranged marriage binge right now and I really want to rp it. I want to base this around a book I read recently but I don't remember the title of it so we're just going to run with it.

Character A is the daughter of one of the wealthiest mafia don's in Italy, in the world. A was his one and only child, his wife died soon after A's birth in an assassination. He never remarried or fathered any other children. His wealth, and his legacy would be passed on to his daughter, and thus, her husband. A was always kept out of sight, sheltered from the life her father was a part of. His father was beside himself with paranoia that A would be taken from him just like his wife. He would do anything to protect her, including smothering her. The day he was diagnosed with cancer, he knew he had to act and act fast. He wouldn't leave his daughter unprotected. The moment his heart stopped beating, the lions would pounce. Either to kill A and take over the mafia, or force her into marriage and take over. He wouldn't take that chance. So he reached out to the only person he believed could protect his daughter.

Character B had been involved in the Russian mafia for as long as he could remember. As the son of the most powerful Russian Mafia Don. He made his first kill at the age of twelve. His father placed a gun in his hand and told him to shoot the man bound in front of him or he would be whipped. B made the obvious choice and shot the man. he would do anything to save himself from pain. He shadowed his father from eh age of thirteen, became the underboss at the age of sixteen, and took over the Russian mafia at the ripe age of twenty. His father had been killed in a deal gone wrong. His father was cocky. His father thought that no one could touch him. His father was wrong. B spent the first couple of years of his reign rooting out the mafia, killing those he didn't need or didn't meet his moral code. He was powerful, he was wealthy, and he had as many allies as he did enemies. But no one would dare touch him. Whispers of his cruelty spread far and wide. No one got away with anything with him. So when A's father approached him, saying he was calling in his favor, B listened. A's father had saved him about a decade ago when he was a newly appointed Don. B owed him his life. And now he was calling in that debt. A's father was dying. He needed someone to protect his daughter. He wanted B to marry A, promise to protect her with his life, and combine their mafia into one, to be the most powerful one in the world. A was not to know of this until the father had passed.

Now the time had come. A's father has passed and it's time for B to fulfill his debt.

Just a rundown of some quick rules.

• At least one detailed paragraph.
• Swearing is alright as long as it isn't overboard.
• No homophobia, racism, or anything else of the sort.
• PG 16, sex can be implied and included, but not detailed.

I am down to play either character. I have no preference. I can further along the plot either way. The setting will be in modern-time Italy (though bear with me because I've never been there and will be googling almost everything).

Name:
Age:
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Personality:
Background:
Other:

hey, this still open? i think i might just be a little late, but this sounded like a very cool prompt :)

hey, this still open? i think i might just be a little late, but this sounded like a very cool prompt :)

(It's no longer open. Sorry love)

Name: Yurie Koletski
Age: 23
Sexuality: Straight
Appearance: Piercing, ice blue eyes framed by long, feminine eyelashes combined with high, thin eyebrows make his eyes look very innocent - until you notice how dead they look. He has pale blond hair, pale skin and an even paler scar, stretching from his right eye to his chin - a present from his father. His facial structure is very thin and angular, with a jaw sharp enough to cut with and cheekbones high enough to make elven women jealous. His rounded chin softens these features just slightly. His body is very muscled, but slim, almost like a cat's body without the fur. His long fingers seem designed for use on a piano, or gripping a violin bow, or holding a paintbrush, and yet they weild only knives and guns and pain.
Personality: Very down to earth and casually brutal. A distant and cold soul, reflected in his dead eyes. He does not tolerate failure, of any sort - and deals harshly with betrayal and second thoughts alike. He dislikes blind fanaticism, however, he does not discourage it. After all, if they worship him, they won't betray him. A giant ego, an even bigger god complex. He's very strategic and patient, thougfh, and if he feels that a betrayer can be more use alive than dead. . . he'll make sure they live.
Background: Pretty much described in the intro prompt; in the three years he's been in charge of the mob, he's gained the nickname the Piercer, from his favorite form of killing: heating the tip of a spear white-hot and driving it up through the victim's body, usually through a very undesirable location to have a pointed object. He's gain a reputation of cold brutality, like Vlad the Impaler's reputation. He has a nasty habit of crucifying people too.
Other: Psycopathic, unfeeling, amoral. All around, a horrible dude.

Name: Ariella De Luca
Age: Nineteen
Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance: Ariella stands at about five foot five, the average for a woman. Her skin is tanned, almost an olive skin tone. Her hair is so dark it's almost black. She has caramel brown eyes with full, arched eyebrows above. She has full lips and sharp facial features. She has grown into a woman, taking after her mother. She has fuller hips and breasts. She's athletic and has retained some muscles. Her skin is unmarked. No tattoo nor scar rests on her skin other than the scar on her knee from when she was learning to ride a bike.
Personality: Ariella has spent her whole sheltered. She rarely ever went outside. She was never without a guard, even when she was inside. She has been smothered. She wasn't space, she wants freedom. She longs for it. Despite her father's best efforts to keep her from the world, she behaves rather maturely, though naively. She understands how a household works, she ran the house since she was fifteen. She carries herself well. However, she knows very little about the outside world. She would hear glimpses and whispers, spying on her father. She was always caught. She's a bit mischievous, always sneaking around. She hates being kept in the dark, being kept a secret.
Background: Ariella was born into the world of two loving parents. The world celebrated her birth. They welcomed her, they partied for her. Everything was right in the world. Then her mother died a few years after her birth and her father was never the same. The house was on lockdown. She was rarely ever allowed out of the house. Everyone that came to work at the house and under her father's care life was searched. they searched for breadcrumbs that would have them dismissed from the house. Tutors would come and go. Ariella gobbled up the information. It was the only thing real that she got in her life. When she grew older and longed for more, she learned to sneak around her guards, and spy on her father and their meetings. She would always wound up being caught, but not before she heard things. When she was fifteen, her father decided it was time for her to learn how to be a woman in the house. She learned how to run the household staff, how to hire and fire, how to handle money, the clean money. Her father taught her to shoot a gun, and how to spar. He wanted to make sure she could defend herself. Life was fine, if not rather boring, until the day her father came to her and said he had cancer and he only had a year left to live.
Other: She has three cats.

Ariella De Luca was the mafia princess and heir of the Italian mafia. They were wealthy. She had seen the numbers on the bank account attached to the house, and that was just one bank account. All of Italy fell under their rule. Gangs didn't make a move without their say-so. The Italian government didn't pass a law without them implementing the idea. No one moved without her father's order. They were that powerful.
So when he came to her and said he had cancer and only a year to live, Ariella knew her own days were limited as well. She wasn't naive enough to believe that she would make this out unscathed. Everyone knew Alessandro had a daughter, as much as he tried to bury it. It was known. It had been celebrated for weeks on end when she had been born. And now that he was dying, it was only a matter of time before the vultures began to search.
They would come for her. The only question was how.
Some would propose marriage. By being her husband, they would be taking over the entirety of the Italian mafia. Or they could kill her, as well as everyone on her father's council, and set up their own.
So her tears were not just for her father. They were for her as well.
She was scared. She didn't want to die, and no matter how much her father assured her it would be alright, she knew better than that. She counted down the days. She plotted and plotted again. Perhaps she could escape to the states. She could abdicate and let one of her distant cousins take over. She could live, safely and happily in the states. But how would she get there? How could she get a job? How did one do that? There was no viable answer or solution.
She knew it was coming. She watched as her father deteriorated. But it never prepared her for his death.

Ariella stood at the front of the church, tears slowly pouring down her cheeks, as she accepted condolences. The funeral had gone on as well as it could be expected. Guns hadn't been pulled out just yet and the only dead body was the one in the casket.
She was dressed in her best. A skin-tight, black dress. It was a modest neckline and the sleeves came down to her wrists. She wore black tights under the dress and kitten heels. Her hair lay in soft ringlets, all thanks to her maid. She wouldn't have known how to get out of bed if it had not been for her. Her hands were clasped in front of her, picking at them. There was dried blood around some of the nails when she had picked at them during the ceremony. it gave way to her youth, her innocence. It was a habit she never seemed to have grown out of, no matter how hard she tried.
She didn't register the faces, the voices, as one by one the came to her and offered condolences. The only other family standing with her was her mother's sister. She was the only family she was close to. After her mother's death, her aunt had done her best to fill in that role. She taught Ariella how to do her hair, and makeup, and how to dress nicely. Her father didn't love it when she would dance around the house in dresses and makeup, but he couldn't tell her not too.
Her lip began to quiver and she sucked it into her mouth, biting so hard she drew blood. She was scared and tired and grieving. She wanted to go home. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

Yurie watched the boss's daughter carefully from his third row seat, eyes hard and narrow.

As he watches her, he takes in the dress - figure cut - and her hair - ringlets.

She was beautiful, he decided. Not that it mattered, of course. He still had a promise to fulfill whether or not she was pretty.

The people around him gave him a good ammount of space. They knew his 0-tolerance reputation. If they so much as jostled his glass, they'd find their skulls on hooks.

He stands, and the people shift uneasily.

His walk was graceful and smooth, like a tiger's.

"Hello, madam." he says softly, his words coated thickly with his native Russian accent.

Ariella didn't raise her head as another person approached her. One after another. "I'm so sorry for your loss." "I'll be in touch with you." "My heart goes out to you."
It was all fake of course. It was just the vulture appearing, ready to swoop in. They believed her to be stupid, too naive to understand anything. She was a De Luca. She may have been sheltered. She may have been locked in, but she understood enough. She knew what they wanted.
What did, however, freeze her in her stupor, was the accent. What did the Russians want? Why were they here?
Slowly, she raised her head, meeting eye contact with the man in front of her. She couldn't say for sure who he was, but if the Russians were here, it couldn't mean anything good. This was a funeral in the house of God. She would not tolerate anything that would sully her father or the Father.
"What can I do for you, sir?" Her voice was quiet, soft, broken. She didn't want to cause a scene. Not with so many people watching. Her hands shot to her side as her body straightened. She would not be intimidated. She was a De Luca. She was her father's legacy and heir. She had to be strong.

"Your father kept in close contact with me. I am Yurie Koletski. Not that you'd know that name - as I understand it, you've been kept very sheltered in you life. However, there is a matter, now that your father is dead, that I urgently need to discuss with you." he replies, just as softly as before.

His pale eyes, slivers of ice in a snowy frame, focus on Ariella's as she looks at him, effectively capturing her gaze and keeping it tethered to him.

Whether or not she even wanted to come with him was irrelevant. The handmaid knew what had to happen, and would accompany the newly grieving daughter while they talked. Though he didn't like her.

The girl's father had a nasty habit of training people to do very particular things. Violent things.

Ariella stiffened. Of course, he wanted to speak with her. Everyone wanted to speak with her. They all wanted a piece of her, of her father, of his life's work. They all wanted to sue her for their personal gain. They couldn't even wait for the funeral to be over. She wasn't sure she was going to make it out of this funeral alive.
As the realization finally hit her, her hands began to tremble. She balled them into fists, to hide this from anyone paying too much attention. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. And a traitorous tear slipped down her cheek. She could only hold up appearances for so long.
"You and everyone else. I'd suggest you take a number, sir. The line is quite long for people that want to speak with me. I won't be seeing anyone until after the funeral is over."

"No, I think I shall speak with you now." Yurie replies, voice hardening.

"You will live through this funeral, if you follow me. Bring that handmaid of yours too. You will need her." he adds, turning and walking away, turning his back on the girl - his unwitting fiancé.

He'd noticed the tear, and the swallow.

He didn't like weakness, especially not in the woman he was to marry, but that was an easy fix. The girl's father had never forbidden him from hardening her.

He'd paid his respects to the body already. Now all that was left to do was wait.

Ariella tightened her jaw. She wasn't going anywhere. There was still a lime of people waiting to offer their condolences. And she had no reason to trust this man. Especially because he was Russian.
One thing her father had instilled in her was never to trust anyone. Not fully. So she did not trust. Never fully. While she trusted her maid to help her dress and her household to do their job, she didn't believe for one second that they wouldn't turn on her with the right motivation. And she certainly didn't trust random strangers dancing things from her.
She wasn't some innocent doe who was going to bow before the most dominant male there was and do as he bid. She was the Italian Princesa. The mafia was hers. The money was hers, if only she lived. She didn't trust for a single moment that not one person wasn't waiting to out a bullet in her head.
"You will not speak with me now. I'm afraid I have to ask to leave. You're holding up the line. And I'd quite rather finish this and go home. It's been a long day." It was only one in the afternoon. But she was tired. She was mentally and physically exhausted. She wanted to sleep but everytime she tried her sleep was plagued with nightmares.

"It has to do with marriage." Yurie replies, eyes narrowing even more than they normally do.

He was getting tired of these games. If she would not come with him, he'd go to her. He knew the address.

He gestures to the people waiting - who were nowhere to be found now. The church had cleared out pretty quickly after he'd gotten up.

"And besides, what line? It seems to me the funeral is over, Ariella." he sighs.