How young is too young to be crowned a King? When sixteen-year-old Tybalt is burdened by kingship while still a child, he must convince his subjects that he's strong enough to wear the crown or risk the whole town of Nevergolden, demanding his blood. His friends struggle to accept him in his new role. His subjects do not want him as their leader. He's just too young in their eyes. With his sister forced to marry a teenage Lord from another town who she hates, will Tybalt cope with the struggles of Kingship or will the weight of the crown be too heavy to carry? [Thanks to JABrownOfficial for helping me with the blurb!] {Anyway, while this is a work of historical fiction, it's a screenplay. The episodes I wrote are thirteen and this is the first one (the pilot). I also added some pics and gifs of the characters! Unfortunately, their clothes in the photos and gifs don't quite match the descriptions, but I still want you to see the characters as I imagined them} <<Ps. English is not my native language. If you want to help me to improve the grammar, we can talk about it on discord>> Copyrights: All the copyrights belong to me, except for the pictures and gifs that are taken from movies, TV shows and other websites. The pictures and gifs are taken from: - Miracle workers - Merlin - Bridgerton - Anne with an "E" - Hwarang: The poet warrior youth - Pride and prejudice (starring Colin Firth) - The Serpent Queen - Outlander - Getty Images - Reign - Game of thrones - Once Upon a Time - Peaky Blinders - Gifs from Reface-app - The Green Knight - House of the Dragon

Follow the story of Dylan Rancor in the fantasy world of Arkanthia! ~~(Except from The Last Human Series)~~ "I am Dylan Rancor..." he exclaimed, "...the last of the Rancor Residence! The last of the Human kind!" The crowd cheered, everyone hanging on his words. "Your forefathers foresaw my coming. They wrote about this day before you! The Hour of the Shaking!" Another cheer, this time louder than the cheer before. The screams moved in a wave through the crowd in front of him, like the tides of Grandver Haven. "You all have awaited my coming. You see me as a savior. The one who will end your suffering!" Dylan paused and looked at Lyra. She gave him a reassuring smile. "But... I tell you now. I am not your savior. I am not a slave to some words on obsidian!" The crowd gasped. Crying began in some parts, women and children falling to their knees, men ripping apart their clothes in anger. Rochin was no longer smiling. "Your forefathers were wrong! I am no hero! That day... That day I found out what Rochin did to my father, to my brother, to my family, I swore... in that very moment... I would kill every last one of you!" Dylan laughed. "You were all wrong to welcome me here with open arms: gifts of golden Shecks and trinkets of wood! Wrong, I tell you, wrong." Dylan raised his hand up, everyone watching, guessing what he would do next. "Your prophet was wrong about me! I am not the White Mask, though you believe I am." In a moment of pure instinct, Dylan began to beat his chest with his off hand. "Your forefathers were wrong! I am not the Quake of Fallen Earth, though you say I am." Dylan stopped beating his chest. Dylan put his palm down on the floor. He could feel the stage touching the ground, and the ground touching all the Halorians. "But... your forefathers were right about one thing! I am the Final Visitor, because I am the last visitor you will ever see!" ~~~