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lilyharvord · 2 months

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RQ Week 2 Flash Fic Friday

... a scene taken from a series of scenes for a fic I wil probably never write.... Bonswa my loves, I have returned (: @nortaeventcouncil. For RQ flash fic fridays (prompt 1 secrets)

“Would you have given them to me?”

Mare glanced up at him with wary eyes, hearing the way his voice betrayed the nonchalance with which he asked his question. Somehow, she knew he would ask her at some point. It had really just been a matter of when for weeks now. Being at the cabin always seemed to loosen lips, and now was no different. The last thing she wants to do was open this can with him though. She had already suffered his presence from the moment it arrived, and all she wanted to do was stay in the tranquility of this moment for as long as she could.

“Given you what?”

His cheek twitched at her avoidance, but his eyes softened at the edges. Glancing away, he stared out the frosted window at the viciously falling snow. On the back of the plush chair, his fingers curled into claws on the blanket draped there. The storm had come violently midday and had stayed well into the night. Travel was impossible, leaving was impossible. She felt like a fish trapped in a tank with a shark.

“Would you have… given me children?”

Mare’s hand stilled on Coriane’s curls, and she had to forcibly keep herself from possessively wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer. The question wasn’t directed at Coriane at all, but something about the idea of it made Mare’s hackles rise. He hadn’t made any overt threats toward Coriane yet, at least none that Mare knew of. Maybe her threat had worked that first night, or maybe he had been telling the truth when he told he that he had nothing against her daughter. Given the past, the former had to be true.

Slowly she returned to stroking Coriane’s damp hair, and considered her as she did so. Fresh from a warm bath, she dozed peacefully. The firelight bathed her in orange and red; the perfect colors for her palette. For half a second, she imagined her with different features, the more angular ones that used to haunt every one of Mare’s nightmares. She imagined her with blue eyes instead of mellow amber. Something in her stomach clenched tightly at the fact that she could not picture her daughter laughing with those blue eyes. She swallowed subtly before saying the only thing she could.

“They never would have been ours. They would have been your mother’s.”

His exhales whistles through his teeth, telling her she hit the nerve that has always made him curl in on himself.

“That’s not true.”

“Look at me and say that. Look at me and tell me that you really think I would have been allowed to raise them, that she would have let me.” She stared him down across the space, her hand stilling on Coraine’s head again before slowly guiding her closer. She wouldn’t be able to fit in her lap much longer, but it was the only way Mare felt like she could keep her close right this second.

He raised his chin at her, those icy blue eyes practically glowing in the low light of the dying fire. His cheek twitched again, and he curled his fingers into a tighter ball on the blanket.

“I would have made her stay away from them.”

Mare couldn’t help but laugh. The movement and sound made Coriane shift, and curl tighter against her. Cutting the sound off harshly to avoid waking her, Mare shook her head in exasperation. The least he could have done was say something believable. “You would have tried,” she admitted quietly, when Coriane had sighed and relaxed again. “And you would have failed.”

His entire being went still as stone, and Mare felt the undulating waves of heat he tried to contain wash over her as softly as the waves on the lake shore. She watched him tear his eyes away from her, and gnaw on the inside of his cheek for a moment. The odd kinetic stillness she remembered settled over him as he began to tap a finger against his knee. Slowly he molded himself back into the blasé image he had been maintaining up until this conversation.

“You think I wouldn’t have loved them.”

There wasn’t a hint of a question in his words, and Mare pursed her lips at the accusation. A part of her wanted to keep twisting the knife deeper, to inflict the pain she had always been able to with him. The other part, the one that had grown out of the bitter, resentful girl she had been stayed the blow, and ultimately won out.

“I think, she wouldn’t have let you love them. Or me.” She added the last part quietly, but it still struck home like a blow.

His finger started tapping again, and even in the low light she could see the nail was bit to the quick. The others were probably no better, so she didn’t bother looking at them. Before it had been easy to just remember the man who had been on the other side of cell bars taunting her and pulling at old wounds. It had been easy to remember the manic energy in his eyes when she had chased him down in Whitefire. Potentially facing the young man he had been underneath all that made her shiver. Her eyes slowly fell, and she dropped her voice to a whisper as she said, “There are no more secrets, not anymore.”

“No more secrets.” He echoed the words mockingly under his breath before rising and slipping back into the shadows of the house. The fire popped loudly in the grate, the only residue of his emotions, while the wind howled outside and thunder rumbled faintly.

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planetmaven · 2 months

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this is a scene from kings cage

maven is so sassy bro 😭 there are so many scenes where he's being sassy and snarky and jokey its insane. even when he was held captive in war storm, he always found a way to be a smartass.

#ren💌maven #I just think hes hilarioys #sassy maven never ends #maven with a burn book #hes so dramatic and exaggerated #victoria aveyard #authors #booklr #books & libraries #bookworm #maven calore #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne

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sourtimesq · 5 days

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mare barrow sketch !!

i got a new drawing app finally

#red queen series #mare barrow #red queen #glass sword #king's cage #war storm #broken throne #fanart

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northernember · 1 year

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while its in no way likely i love the idea of maven, after the events of the first book, leaving cals room completely untouched,,,

just the idea of him burning his brothers royal portraits, dragging his name and reputation through bloodied mud, hunting him like he’s some animal.

but cal’s room remains as he left it, left to gather dust and harbor the echoes of brothers laughing and chess pieces tapping against the wooden board.

and the chess board remains set up, prepared in advance for a game thats never going to come. all thats missing is the black king piece, its empty spot having gathered a layer of dust thinner than the rest.

i like to think cal leaves it too at first, avoids it like the echoes of what used to be will shatter whatever grip on himself he has left. and than, after he abdicates the throne and mare leaves for the mountains, he stands in its doorway, looking in at a room that used to belong to a boy that lies in a grave similar to his brothers. a boy that died alongside his father that day. a boy that was going to be king and sit upon a throne made from corpses and uphold the sickening legacy built by those who proceeded him. Some parts still remain of that boy, scattered throughout the craters and fractures of the man that came out the other side.

weeks later, once he finally brings himself to step past the door way and clean it out, packing away the belongings of the crown prince and tucking away pictures of two dead boys into his jacket, he closes and locks the door and never opens it again. leaving an empty room filled with nothing but dust and ghosts.

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #red queen series #cal calore #tiberias vii calore #maven calore #i am biting and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure #i wish we had gotten more scenes between maven and cal #i am so so emotional devastated over everything about them #the tragedy of brothers spilt and tore apart by the circumstances of their births

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cervid-ai · 7 months

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he's my pookie bear. he's a war criminal. he's lost the ability to love normally. he's obsessive. he's doomed. he's tragic. he's a boy. he's a monster. he's a malewife. he has murdered innocents. he would do it again. he's my beloved. i want him dead. i need him alive.

#this is about maven calore #fictional characters #red queen series #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #maven calore #GOD I THINK ABOUT HIM #brothers #mare barrow #cal calore

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darklinaforever · 1 year

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That's the thing. I know Mare and Cal cared about Maven and loved him. I know they miss him in their own way. They had to mourn his death.

So one thing I would have liked at the end is that they name one of their children Maven, in Cal's homage to his brother, and Mare for the ghost of that boy she once loved.

A way to compensate in a way.

That they would have created a new Maven who this time could have been surrounded by the love he was cruelly deprived of. Because, even though Maven did bad things and hurt Mare and Cal, it wasn't completely his fault.

Brain screwed up from childhood by his mother's powers I recall...

Maven was not a stable individual, fully in control of himself. He was mentally very very ill.

And Mare and Cal know it very well !

So why didn't the author make this kind of tribute ? It would have been so beautiful and satisfying.

This is definitely my biggest regret.

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anon-anti · 1 year

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Can I offer u a 🍓 in these trying times?

#anon anti #strawberry #tw injury #tw blood #shackles #broken throne #anon ask #chained

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evangelineartemiasamos · 11 months

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May 13th - Happy Birthday, Diana Farley

It’s for the best. Lying to them, disobeying the orders, it’s for the best. It’s not your fault the Colonel doesn’t understand. It’s not your fault. The old refrain levels me out, as comforting as a stiff drink. Everything I’ve done and everything I ever will do is for the cause. No one can say otherwise. No one will ever question my loyalty, not once I give them Norta on a silver platter.

#diana farley #farley #captain farley #red queen #red queen edit #red queen aesthetic #victoria aveyard #steel scars #mare barrow #shade barrow #glass sword #king's cage #war storm #broken throne #myedit #Happy Birthday #queue

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lilyharvord · 2 months

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Flash Fic Friday #3

Another part of that fic I mentioned once. Connected with this one. This part I wrote this morning after my exam and after I heard some clock app sound with the dialogue. I knew instantly who would say it and who it would be said to. @nortaeventcouncil. It's kinda all the prompts smashed together? A lil bit of this and lil bit of that. 🤷🏼‍♀️

It was cold, bitter and biting cold. Normally, he would hate it, and would have taken precautions to make sure he stayed warmer. Doing that meant taking one of Cal’s jackets though, and he was not about to do that. He was not about to wear something that smelled like him or even remotely reminded him of his brother.

Blowing warm air into his cold hands, he stared out across the little space around the cabin. It was tucked away safely in this place that he refused to call majestic. No matter that it had taken his breath away when he had stood on the jetway and seen those mountains dusted with snow and cutting the bluest sky he had ever seen to ribbons. He refused to admit that he liked it here and that the peace and quiet had settled over him, leaving him feeling oddly stifled and quiet.

The porch door creaked and then slammed shut. He twisted his lips, deciding that as long as he kept his back to the door that neither of them would bother him. Maybe they would just see he wasn’t doing anything but sitting and staring out at the trees that were slowly growing nightmarish shadows as the sun dipped behind the mountain range.

The steps that approached him sounded more like someone hopping from one foot to the other, and it was a little body that dropped down onto the step next to him. He observed her out of the corner of his eye, already shying away as she started to swing her little booted feet so the heels struck the wood in an off-kilter rhythm.

He didn’t hate children. This one though, he wanted to hate her with a earnest that sometimes made him wonder how he couldn’t.

She watched the trees with him, not speaking. She was quiet, Maven had learned that about her very quickly. Sh observed everything around her, and she had observing him more than he would like. He knew Mare had told her to stay away, to never speak to him. He had seen the way those little pink lips had twisted, and how her eyes had sparked in such a familiar way after that warning, and deep down had known she would eventually find a way to go behind her mother’s back. He knew why he believed that, but he refused to admit it. It meant thinking about the past, about growing up, and his brother. Who conveniently had to go back to the city early yesterday to handle something. He was surprised Mare had let him go, given it meant she would be alone to deal with him and watch the child next to him.

Slowly he unfurled from his crunched state as she continued to sit and not speak but just kick her feet. He blew more warm air into his hands before glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Her boots weren’t tied, and her brightly colored blue jacket wasn’t zipped, but she was at least wearing proper pants. He didn’t care. He told himself he didn’t care if she was cold. He was a Burner, and he had a feeling she was too. He had overheard Mare and Cal talking about it quietly one night while they carried her to bed. She wasn't showing signs yet though. So while it was freezing, it was this ridiculous child's decision to sit out here with him.

“She always looks at you like she’s mad.”

He froze, his blood going cold at the sound of her voice. Slowly he glanced down at her. Her little lips were pursed tightly and her brows were scrunched tightly together. She wrinkled her damn nose the same was he used to. He snapped his head forward again, ignoring her completely.

“Does everyone look at you like that?” The direction of her voice had changed. It wasn’t forward anymore, it was directly at him. He tried to avoid looking at her. He always avoided looking directly at her. He didn’t like being hurt, he didn’t like it when he did things that made him ache, but he also had come to realize over the course of his life that he had a hard time avoid it. This time was no different. He looked down at her.

His heart stuttered and his body heated unintentionally as she set those uncanny fucking eyes on him. Fucking Iris’s gods. They had given her Cal’s eyes. Those were his eyes, with the same earnest need to understand with the intetion to aid, to mend, and to heal. He wanted to claw them out of her head, wanted to remove them forever. Cal had always looked at him with those eyes, and it had always reminded him of the sucking, gaping hole in his heart and head where his love for his brother used to be.

She had his hair, his eyes, and she had that sweet face that he had faint memories of from when he used to run after Cal though the hall of Whitestone. Before Cal had gone to the front, before he had come back a yonng man and not a child anymore. Before his mother had ripped any connection to Cal out of him by the root and stem.

But she was not him, even though the first time he had seen her he had almost mistaken her for him in a strange flash of déjà vu. She had peeked around the doorway as Mare had paced in front of him, setting the boundaries that he had thought were laughable. Now he wished she had set more, wished she had left her daughter with her parents in the city. He wished that this girl had not been born, that she didn’t exist. But she did, and in his deepest heart… he didn’t hate that. It meant--he didn't want to admit to it. Twisting his lips, he finally let the words form, but not leave him. It meant he had subverted his mother's meddling, and had found a way to love his brother again. Even if it was just loving the strange mirage of him that his daughter was.

It took longer than he liked to put himself together just enough and put the mask back in place and shrug as if that question was inconsequential.

She continued to watch him, even though he had started to turn away from her.

He felt the moment she slipped her little hand in his. It was warm, warmer than he thought it would be. Maybe she was a Burner after all.

His entire body locked, and he whipped his head over his shoulder, wondering why Iris’s gods had not send Mare out here yet. He didn't smell ozone, or hear the tell tale crackle of lightening waiting to scorch through him.

“I’m not mad at you.” She said, leaning toward him as if she could push those words though his cold exterior and embed them in his heart. His throat locked up against his will, and he had to take a short, shallow breath and swallow multiple times. It wouldn’t dislodge. If he looked at her, he knew he would not see her. He would see his brother, he would see the Harbor Bay room. He would see that look that Cal had given him over his shoulder before slipping out. So he continued to stare out at the advancing shadows, keeping his eyes on the tree line, but he didn’t let go of her hand either.

#red queen #rq flash fic fridays #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #maven calore #shrugs*#listen if she looked just like cal I know this would be his thought process #fuck elara but I gonna write Maven having revelations #my writing #coriane barrow calore #I love her so much #and I just know she would say this to him #she's so confused why everyone hates this man who just sits there and doesn't say anything

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planetmaven · 3 months

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PLEASE GUYS TELL ME I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO THOUGHT MARE AND EVANGELINE HAD SOME DEEP INTENSE YURI MOMENTS .

there were so many moments in which one of them needed someone and would think of the other.

i remember mainly evangeline often thinking of mare and wishing she were around to spar with her.

war storm was literally just evangeline and mare heart eye moments idc

this always gets me ngl cos why.....like.....YK WHAT I MEAN?? like mare is looking at evangeline and she's like "what is this feeling..." girl. 🏳️‍🌈.

SHE CARREESSSS.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

I love u lesbians..

if evangeline x mare has zero shippers i died

#they are perfect to me #i love you mean lesbian x stubborn bisexual #yuri 😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏#they had so much development from the first book to the last.#they also have scenes in broken throne so ill post those later ☺️#ren💌evangeline #ren💌mare #authors #booklr #books & libraries #bookworm #victoria aveyard #glasssword #kingscage #redqueen #mare barrow #evangeline samos #broken throne

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ball-of-butter · 1 year

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red queen ships and if they would stay together irl (real, canon, source: me)

mare/cal: no

mare/maven: nope but i dont think it wouldve ended up as treacherously as it did in the books funnily enough

evangeline/elane: yes they would

shade/diana: yup

ptolemus/wren: i wouldnt be surprised either way

tiberias/coriane: nope

tiberias/elara: im not gonna even dignify this with a response

elara/coriane: nooo

dane/camradon: probably yeah but i also wouldnt be totally shocked if not

sara/julian: yeah

kilorn/mare: no

kilorn/cal: also no

gisa/cameron: no i think

maven/iris: no

kilorn/cameron: …yeah?

mare/evangeline: yes

mare/iris: no

gisa/shopgirl: who even is this lady (they will grow old together)

thomas/maven: im leaning towards yes

tyton/maven: nope

i think that’s it 🧍‍♀️

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elane-in-the-shadows · 1 year

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Red Queen Fan Fiction - Off-Duty

February 2nd - Happy Birthday, Shade Barrow

A/N: This year, not fun edit-making but the finalization of the fic of pure self indulgence I laboured in love for 7 months. It was a marvellous joy, based on two old shit posts of mine (x y) I now offer to share to celebrate Shade’s birthday. (How much I enjoyed this, seven years after Glass Sword, shows me how much this character and couple still mean to me. Maybe I can believe in lasting love after all. For them.)

5504 words, it is long

Find this on Wattpad

Find this on AO3

Off-Duty

The rain pounded a rhythm on the makeshift balcony roof both irritating and comfortable. The first because of its dissonance with the ball’s music wafting up, the latter as the sound was certainly more homely than the howls of the storm ruling the skies of the Monfort capital for the last days. It was its own kind of uplifting, despite the wetness and still dark horizon, that Shade gave up keeping Clara indoors and set up their picnic on the balcony. The light at least was shining in a warm red from the gathered night lights beside them, reflecting the colour of the rain protection foils above. To keep them dry, Shade had scavenged umbrellas, wires and canvas and fumbled them into the resemblance of a roof through some risky ledge gymnastics relying on his teleporting ability to save him in case of falling. He hoped the same ability made him fast enough to grab Clara should her constant, curious skygazing lead her to lean too far over the ledge. In fact, he didn’t trust on teleporting alone when it came to her, as he was too nervous to leave her out of his sight for a second too long and eat in peace.

He tried to lure her away with some of the food he’d sacked from the snack buffet for the party downstairs in the palace. Though Clara did turn around, she ignored the orange-glazed yeast cake he held out in favour of a tiny rice and vegetable bowl. Shade exhaled with relief, but Clara seemed barely so. When he offered the rice pudding with cherries next, she shook her head. “For Mama,” she said. “Sure,” he replied with a forced smile. Clara could be more perceptive than he expected at her two and a half years. Did she understand Diana was missing her own party? Or had he been too exact about her anticipated return from the Lakelands? It wasn’t officially “her” party, more an annual ball to remember the fallen and the veterans, but in Davidson’s circle, it was known that General Farley was to meet with representatives from Prairie who finally showed the start of an interest in brokering an alliance – with Monfort and the Scarlet Guard, no less. Diana wasn’t the usual choice for diplomacy though given Ella’s advice, the warlord from Prairie would rather be convinced by a brusque military leader. More so if she brought as a negotiating feature intelligence on the latest lakelander movements. As she’d been engaged in them. Or still was. As of, right now. Shade bit off some spicy bread with a slice of smoked ham. He supposed he would’ve heard of it if things had gone that wrong and Diana’s unit was still tied in battle. But if the situation was that dire, anything could’ve happened and with the communication cut off. No wonder Clara stared at the sky as if she could see the light of the plane returning her mother. He couldn’t wait for it, either. Diana had been set to be back two days ago. Leaving them three whole days of family life before his own mission to Ciron loomed and whose preparations he felt less and less inclined to proceed with. While Mare was with Cal in Piedmont and Kilorn and his brothers in Norta, Shade had been recommended to scout in the western country for possible allies, ideally to initiate first contacts together with other high-profile spies he barely knew. The opposite to quality time with his longed-for beloved and their daughter couldn’t be harsher when the lack of contact also made him worry - if not freaking out - about the well-being of the rest of his family. He felt terribly egoistic and also almost unashamed of it. He was fed up. It broke his heart enough to see Clara staring after a glimpse of her mother, how could he abandon her now, without Diana to relieve him? As if it could be called relieve, like a battle strategy, but it was the plan the two of them had come up with: Just one of them would be engaged in operations at one time, and this had lasted for almost two years now. Only Shade doubted the system more and more. He hardly wanted to leave Clara out of his reach and miss her growing each day. He’d also wanted to welcome Diana, had dreamed of her skin, her smell, her voice. The way she only smiled at Clara. Yesterday should’ve been theirs and this pitiful picnic should’ve included her. In the sunshine. Climbing the hills as if on a vacation, to forget the dangers they were in or just escaped even though she would’ve questioned him about his mission in her way to see him off safe. Thanks to the storm, any part of this became impossible and Clara’s glare at the cloud didn’t lessen in concentration. If she could, she’d challenge the weather itself. Shade risked a second to dip a pig-shaped cake in caramelized milk and devour it in one go before trying to offer another to Clara. This time, she took it, dipping it absentmindedly, yet on the way to her mouth, she let it drop. “There!” she pointed, jumping up. Shade was too startled to think and, still struggling to swallow the food, simply reached for Clara. She grinned, pointing again. But he didn’t see, too relieved to have Clara secure against his chest. Then he heard the aircraft approaching the palace. When he grasped its meaning, his grin mirrored Clara’s. The storm drove rain in his face before Shade was fully materialized, and the ground swayed beneath his feet. The truth about teleporting was that the dizziness never went away, not even for a teleporter himself. The irritations and imbalances coming with contradicting the corporeal world had to be fought with resilience, willpower, and focus, whether you were sneaking behind an enemy or escaping them. Now, though, he was grounded by Clara on his shoulder and before him – Her eyes, bright despite the dark, finding them immediately – The surety of her gait, approaching – Her smile, growing clearer and broader with every step – She was a woman in parts, and he longed to have her whole in his arms, and so he strode to her – until Clara heaved and then he stumbled for real, glancing at his daughter, trying to shift or steadying her. But to no avail, as she puked all over his chest and he was thrown out of his dreamy desires and stood there, frozen and dumbfounded. He jerked his head to the sound of a snort and there she was, Diana standing right before him. “Come here, dove,” she said, taking Clara from Shade and already comforting and cleaning her with her scarf, as efficient as ever. “Mama,” cried Clara, and Diana was quick to answer with soothing phrases. He searched her eyes darting between Clara and him and around and when their gazes locked, he found her glance full of joy and amusement as she bit her lips to keep from laughing. “Well, Dee,” he said finally, “the ball’s food we ate was better than it seems right now.” “Was it?” she asked, smirking, and reached out to caress his cheek with her thumb. It sent a shiver over his whole body. He hoped there wasn’t vomit on his face, too, and he cursed the rain for interfering with the intensity of her touch. He wanted to take her hand and pull her close, despite it all, because who gave a shit, but then her hand was back to hold Clara whose temple she kissed while he was still full of sick. He decided he didn’t care after all and shook off his freeze, just when Diana changed direction. “Ah, there’s Grandma, dove, let’s greet her and Grandpa,” she said as she walked ahead where, indeed, Shade’s parents approached, supposed to have Clara while he and Diana attended the ball. Diana looked over her shoulder. “So we all have to get changed,” she said to him. Winking. “I bring Clara to Ruth and Daniel and we meet upstairs, okay?”

“Bye, Papa,” Clara said. “Okay, bye,” he replied with a sigh filled with deprivation as he crossed his arms – wet and dirty. He’d make do with a shower for now.

He'd hurried cleaning up in the shared bathroom but long hair had its demands, especially in case of an event. With his long hair just dried and out of its bun for the ball, Shade found Diana in their apartment, mistreating a dress uniform in front of a mirror. At the second of his entry, she glanced at him, currently forgetting her battle but revealing the sum of the mess frontally. She couldn’t stop fidgeting with the clothes just for a second, always dragging the sleeves this way or that. The uneven buttoning revealed her bare throat down to her skimpy undershirt, making her look as unstyled as Cal in his workshop clothes and the medals she tried to pin were all over her chest, but not in a becoming pattern. He burst out laughing, in revanche, louder and freer than Diana earlier without a sick Clara in vicinity. Diana flushed, increasing her visible contempt for the outfit. “I suspect medals are really meant for punishment if they come with this horrible dress uniform.” Shade wiped his mouth, stepping closer to inspect the horror. As he touched the jacket where Diana had experimented with shifting the alignment of buttons and buttonholes, she sucked in a breath. He swallowed in turn, a shiver running over his arms. He felt the ghost of their missed welcoming hug. Now, as near as they hadn’t been for weeks, the yearning for reunion was overwhelming. As it was for cupping her breasts. Another swallow ended in a cough. “First of all, try a proper shirt, loose on the shoulder, not a tank top.” “But – “ “I’ll leave the top buttons open and fix your tie in a fancy knot. And the pins I can use to keep the collar from your throat.” Assessing her styling kept him cool. Even as her eyes bored into him. Eyes that should match her style. So he should look – He stepped back but Diana caught his hand. “Help me take it off.” “It is already more off than on,” he said with a snort, pulling away for good to search for the right shirt. Some women were okay with clothes fitted for most men but curvy and broad-shouldered Diana was not one of them. He did not glimpse at her. “I left Clara with your parents,” she called to his back, “as usual at these blasted events. Tsk. As if I wouldn’t rather stay with her right now … she fell asleep before I could barely talk to her.” He heard her walking around. A hand on his shoulder. “You're right,” she said, glimpsing over his shoulder and eating a dish of rice pudding. “The food is great. I hope your parents got some snacks, too.” "I'd be surprised if they didn't." He smirked. "Clara wanted to leave that rice pudding for you, you know", he told her. "Really?" Diana beamed. "She can be so sweet." "Or almost grown up." Diana sighed, the remark nagging at her for a few seconds. He felt for her hand and squeezed it. “Was she better, no more throwing up?” he asked. She shook her as she took the shirt. “It just exhausted her. Maybe she’s just like me, uncomfortable with teleporting.” The thought amused them both, even as they cosseted and worried about Clara the immediate moment. The daughter of a teleporter couldn’t stand the ability. Did that mean she didn’t have the ability herself? He sighed. Suddenly he strongly wished to hold Clara and solace her. Indeed, a blasted event upsetting the millions of things they could better do tonight. Least of all tracing the curves of Diana’s body beneath the formal attire as she changed. Instead, he could talk. Neutrally asking about her recent operation. How did her mission go? Diana seemed hale and whole enough but the relief at the first sight of her washed over him again as she confirmed it. So, what about the rest of her unit? What was left out of the reports, what would affect the negotiations to take place? Would there be repercussions, also on his mission – the very next day? Diana was dry in her replies even as she chattered along nonetheless, playing along if Shade wasn’t open to “taking off” her uniform. He knew they wouldn’t leave the room this night if he gave in to that. As he produced his own dress uniform from the closet and moved to put it on, he cursed at their deal simply cut for unpredictable schedules. He should refrain from his missions. The thought, once appeared, dropped like a stone. He couldn’t imagine abandoning his comrades-to-be on a whim. But he was unable to unthink it. To stand back and steal the time for their family to stay together appeared like a goal. He straightened his posture, the reflection of his prim, military outfit belying his true resolution. “That we should have to steal the time to be together,” he said aloud. She met his eyes, softly for once. “We do it for Clara.” At first, he said nothing as he returned to dressing Diana and paced around her. “Clara needs a lot of things,” he replied finally as he put her jacket back in place. “You've been great with her the last weeks,” Diana whispered as the jacket almost glided onto her with the silky and loose-fitting tunic beneath. It was her favourite pretty shirt, one she hardly had chances to wear. "She already misses you," she said, glancing for the corner of his eye rather than his reflection. As do I, she mouthed. Why don't you say that aloud? he wondered. Her eyes in the mirror sparkled with something unsaid. She felt for his arm and squeezed. “I’ll look after her first thing in the morning. Rise with the dawn, and all that.” “I know, I know, you never forget about the Guard,” Shade answered, though with a dose of humour. He could see before his eyes how Diana would spend the next day spoiling Clara while staying alert for new military developments. He’d rather see it for real than imagine it, though. As he stood behind her, both before a mirror, he stretched out her arms, settling inner and outer sleeves. The he felt for her front for the buttons, watching their reflections as his fingers went up, pressing against her belly. “You’re so nimble,” she whispered. Finished at the front, his hands glided along her arms to entwine their fingers. “You’d know,” he answered quietly into her ear and his lips were just about to kiss her neck when he froze in the act. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Diana’s disappointment flash in the mirror. “I won’t undo my work right when it’s complete,” he said and, without letting go of her hand, spun around as if in a dance. If Diana was still flustered, she didn’t show it but only a wicked, dazzling grin as she swayed along with him. “See, you can move in it,” he said. “More elegant than you claimed once.” She snorted in affront. “These dress-up things are an insult to those who fight in the field, with how little movement they offer.” He increased the pace of their dance. “I find it quite comfortable right now.” Despite her complaints, she went along with the faster, more complicated dance moves he started. “Well, obviously the uniforms have been designed with your body types in mind from the start, all lean and straight.” “Straight.” He tsked. “Only outwardly,” she clarified and initiated a new step. “In a more – most – desirable way,” she added under her breath. “Glad to hear you still find me beautiful.” “Hm. You should say that to me,” she countered before he twisted them around, one, two, three times, until he let go of the dance pose to cup her face. “Has the gorgeous General Diana Farley of the Scarlet Guard and mother of our child finally become vain?” he asked. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Just that I’d enjoy to hear it, as a general, mother and your …” she bit her lips. He blinked. “What?” She took his hands to remove them from her face and pull away, turning to the mirror to control whether her outfit had survived. Or to check how deeply red her cheeks were. “A miracle,” she muttered. “Of course you are.” She smiled at him. “When did you even learn that?” Did she really think this obvious shift of topic would work? “From Gisa, for a start. Had to serve as her mannequin and model and you know she had to work for silver tastes.” He rolled his eyes. “But yeah, she also said the basic styles are like designed for sticks like me.” “A beautiful stick.” She cackled. “But good she had other customers and body types now.” “Like you? Truly.” He bit his lips. “Though there were always stockier silvers, too,” he said absentmindedly, though he was already thinking about someone else. Diana noticed. She waited for him to continue, merely blinking once or twice. She was never so calm or patient with anyone else but Clara – or him. It encouraged him as he took to his time to consider his words. “It was before we met, when I was newly conscripted to the nortan army. As an aide, I had to manage an officer’s supply including his clothes. “He treated me like a butler at times. Missed the luxuries from home but didn’t have the chance to bring them. Including servants.” Diana winced. “You only told me he was an idiot before, though smart enough to hire you.” “Smart?” Shade grimaced. “Not so rewarding for him given where we got as he went lost.” “So is he? Lost?” Shade shrugged and Diana prodded further. “I know you’d check what became of him.” Shade glanced away and quieted, listening in for the faint waves of the sound barely reaching them. They were more felt than heard. “It was a dark time I don’t take pleasure in telling and reliving,” Shade admitted finally. She hugged him back as he stood still for good. “But I'm here to listen when you need me to.”

His fingers drummed with the music as Shade glided through the ball. At times, he was about to start humming before stopping himself. At least it managed to distract him; almost too well. He didn’t have the nerve to spy tonight, to chat and deceive while the pressure of the next day loomed over him. Still, as his blood pulsed in anticipation of Diana’s return from conferring with the Prairie warlord, Russell. He had considered following Diana to hide and listen, but for what reason? She knew him too well not to notice and he wouldn’t bother her that way. And he trusted her. She’d succeed in negotiations and either way, he couldn’t look after her from tomorrow on –

“Thinking about me?” he startled and choked on his drink as Diana arrived that very moment to take him by the arm, entwining their fingers. She wasn’t one for public affection, so this display of closeness was as demonstrative as a kiss. It certainly felt almost as intimate as he glanced over the crowd in her grasp, aware of the people who saw them. He set aside the glass and completed their embrace, already pulling her along to sway to the rhythm of the song. “For sure,” he replied with an exaggerated drawl. “I longed to resume our dance where we left off.” She raised an eyebrow in amused doubt as her hand roamed over his back and he sucked in a breath. His own hand on her waist began to prove a temptation he tried to battle by focusing on intensifying the dance steps. He listened for the first beats of a new song, changing into a different dance and he was ready for the shift. A taxed Diana followed his lead. Despite her flush, she enjoyed the challenge of the dance. “You do seem eager.” He shrugged, smiling. “And you seem smug. You have the warlord wrapped around your fingers already?” She made a scale gesture with her fingers. “He’s predictable enough, as was his reluctance before. I know the type. Doesn’t want to state his offers, so I let him dangle and stay vague myself. He’ll spill soon enough.” He let her twirl under his raised arm.” And we have the time?” Her mouth twitched after the spin, unperturbed by the move, dancing as fresh as if just woken from sleep instead of locked in a tumultuous flight. “In this case. He’s so eager for the edge in an alliance he doesn’t grunt about efficiency in meetings.” “So he’s spying.” She mock-hit his shoulder. “Of course he’s spying, Shade Barrow. You’d know best.” He chuckled and she went on. “As I said, I’m acquainted with the type. I know where to bring his attention and Davidson knows how to appear generous.” “But do you want me to shadow his retinue?” Between the quick steps and the movements of the other dancers, speech was limited between catching breaths. Only as the song rolled out and slowed, they did as well, into a lazy motion staying on the spot, two people in their own pace and place, careless of the rest. Their grip on each other grew firmer and their gaze shifted from playful into serious. Diana swallowed, without losing sight of him. “You’d rather stay?” Her grasp became even tighter, almost hopeful. Could she be agreeing with his doubts? Shade traced her face with his figners. “If you hadn’t arrived this eve – right when you did – I wouldn’t be joining my mission tomorrow.” Diana’s eyes widened. “It’s exactly the promise we mode, isn’t it?” he went on. “One would always stay with Clara. So she’ll never see both parents dying in one battle.” For once, Diana hesitated to meet his eyes as she chewed on that. He shook his head. “Even if I’d spoken to you the day before, when your operation was over and you’d only have to return. Anything could’ve happened still, your base attacked, the airplane crashed – it wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t go on if we’d lost you, not knowing what’s become of you.” He stopped, his brow leaning against hers. Diana covered his hand on her face, her eyes aligning with his. “You would fight no longer … without me?” Shade broke her grip, stepping back. “It’s not like anyone can make me fight for them, can they?” he said, glimpsing Diana’s irritated frown before he teleported away. A silly joke, he knew. Jumping exactly out of reach but still in eyesight, urging Diana to follow him through the rush of partygoers. He could hear Diana calling his name, just not enough under her breath to avoid attention. She sped up, her instincts winning over the chaos. “Are we being dramatic now?” she spat, panting, when they’d reached the empty stairs outside the ballroom with only meters between them. The doors slammed shut behind her. He glanced over his shoulder; she was climbing up after him. “But you didn’t ask…!” she said, still panting, and quieter now. “What we could do differently …” She swallowed while her gaze continued to burn at him nonetheless. “Or if you believe our promise is for the gutter. “I’d rather spent this evening watching Clara sleep, too. Relaxing after being stuck in a plane for hours, delayed because of the weather as well as fake threats. Then hear how you and Clara spent these weeks together. How she grows, what she learns. Quarrel about who of us gets to do what with her. “I want so much, Shade. I’m full of it, so full I can only act to live with it. I understand what you say, I'd do the same. But not … forever. I want Clara, and us, any children we might have, our people, to have it better. I can’t and won’t stop before we win. Or we might lose it again.” She pushed through the final step and reached him at arms’ length. Her fingers fluttered against his back until he spun. “Why do you run away?” she muttered. “As long as it’s needed to make you talk as much as this,” he replied. She snorted but grasped his arms tight, nearly ending their balance – or just about keeping it. He gasped, and she leaned her head against his chest. They were rarely in this position, with her being taller than him. The unusual feeling of it both flustered and elated him, as he imagined her hearing the fast throb of his heart, or how that thought alone made it beat even faster. He started to caress her hair almost automatically. “I know you might not…”, Diana began eventually, lifting her face right so he could see her warmed gaze. “Maybe you don’t see it like that anymore.” What? He nearly said it aloud, having forgotten their topic for their embrace. “Maybe you wouldn’t fight no matter what anymore,” she went on. Ah. “Because we have Clara.” “I never said that,” he replied after clearing his throat. Quiet but sharp. Determined. “I can’t give this up no easier than you. But if – if– I lost you, I couldn’t go on like before.” “Then I want to know that!” she cried out, then exhaled until she caught herself. "There're always other jobs to do either way. I have to know. You could do anything, it doesn't have to in the field." She shook her head, pondering. His hand was on her waist, hugging her closer and closer. Indeed, Shade wasn’t sure himself if that was the solution he craved.

Finally, she lifted her piercing eyes. “Will you join your mission tomorrow?” she asked, her voice low. He sighed. He was here, at an event for soldiers and veterans, celebrating success as well as survival while they were about to broker a new military alliance. Diana stood before him, decked in medals earned in spilled blood, her own and others’. “A recon operation in Ciron,” he said. “I confess, I wonder about the point of where it all might lead.” Diana frowned. “Reconnaissance isn’t a coup.” “It might lead to one,” he countered. “So you’d rather leave it wholly in the hands of others?” “Well, in yours,” he admitted. “And you listen to me.” “I’m not sure if that flatters me,” she said with an ice-cold smile. The general’s smile. “Would you be as reluctant if Mare came with you?” His face fell, caught guilty as charged. No wonder she smiled like that. “No, I wouldn’t,” he confirmed. “I’m a terrible soldier, I suppose.” Diana straightened while he only longed to maintain their embrace as a cackle escaped her throat. “Inclined to blatant favoritism,” she said. “Disobeying orders and acting on his own advice. Questioning officers but without intention to take command yourself. Up for the sneaky jobs and avoiding supervision. Expecting personal relations to cover up misdemeanors.” For all the sharp accuracy, Diana listed the call-outs with an amused grin. “You’ve always been an awful soldier, Shade Barrow,” she concluded. “But I think that’s what brought us together in the first place, isn’t it? You aren’t cut to obey but would follow me lead anyway. To be honest, I’m very glad how you’ve kept running after me – ” Shade blushed at the memory he couldn’t deny. “Umm – “ “Indeed,” Diana went on, “I’ve been honoured to follow you as well. To be with you, as we watched each other’s backs. To see new options – to be made to see new options, because of you, as you insisted on my attention.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve changed for meeting you and I don’t regret a minute of it. Whatever you’ll choose, whoever you become, I want to be with you. I ... won't give you orders if you'll disobey in the end." He grimaced at that remark but Diana paused, puzzled until resolve flashed over her face. "I won't command you where to go but I promise to never leave you behind. Whatever the future holds for us or how we’ll react to it.” She swallowed and goosebumps rose over his skin as blood rushed through his head and her voice was warped by a ringing in his ears. “We’ve … made a promise after Clara was born. That one of us will always stay back for her. And maybe this promise doesn’t work out as well as we thought. But we can make other, new, … different promises. Or vows. A vow …” Her face shone with a flush. “Like?” he breathed, barely audible. “Like, Shade Barrow, would you marry me?” And her eyes sparkled as she said that, despite the way she’d stumbled over the words with insecurity. For a moment, he thought it was the bravest speech she’d ever held. As if she didn’t know what he’d reply. Nor did he, actually. “You never cease to surprise me,” he managed to utter and cursed himself next to her heaving breaths. She deserved a better answer. So he grabbed her by the waist and, as she didn’t kneel but still stood below him, lifted her up to the same stair as him and as she yelped, he embraced her so tightly he could bury his face in her neck. He panted now, harder than her, and not only due to the effort of lifting her. Her arms, hugging him back, were force stronger than gravity, so powerful he forgot he even could teleport. It was just what she always did. After he prodded and urged her to come closer, she’d give more than he’d even imagined asking for. Marriage had sounded so plain and formal, it felt pointless for them. They were comrades in arms, relying their lives on each other, as well as parents raising their little, lovely child. Any considerations to deployments or housing were granted them due to that; their intimate relationship no one else’s concern and he thought that only just. Silvers could keep their conjugal restrictions to settle their finances with marriages; any of Diana and Shade’ s endless but fruitless discussions about a second baby felt more significant. Until she asked him and it suddenly was significant, lighting a flame in his heart that filled him with an energy he craved without knowing what to use it for. They were in love, and it mattered. They became who they were and got to this point, in a palace with leaders on their side because of it and if anything, this flame should keep on burning for the world see and feel as they celebrated it. Shade startled, to look into her eyes and finally give her her bleeding reply, but this time, nothing could save their balance as a distraught Diana jerked as well and they would’ve tumbled down the stairs if their hands didn’t find each other, without thinking, and they maintained footing only to fall over each other with Diana on top of him, both loudly exhaling after the shock. Diana tore at her rumpled uniform. “All your work, undone again,” she exclaimed and laughed. “I’ll help your out of it,” he answered and their eyes met, filled with longing, and the centimeters between them broke into kisses like breathing, until they required real oxygen again. "Did you just come up with that?" he asked quietly, nuzzling her neck. Diana grasped his face to make him look at her but didn't say anything, only blinked. Shit. Guilt settled in his belly. “I didn't mean –” An uncertain smile appeared on her face in slow motion. "Partly?" she offered. Almost like she was prepared if he was taking it as a joke. Her flush intensified, but not just from kissing. Her nervosity heightened, too; he could feel that in her pulse. "I mean, it, the idea to ask, came over me in the heat of the moment, but ... well, I did think about it for a while but if it's all too much of a surprise for you, or not your preference at all-" A laugh rose in his throat, a laugh of elation he just about managed to swallow. "Diana, no." Her face froze. "No, sorry, I didn't mean – sorry!" He took he deep breath. Not a breath of hesitation, but one like drinking in the love for this woman. He found her gaze again. “I'll hold on to you for every minute we have. And I'll still rise before dawn to wake Clara with you, before I'll go to Ciron, for one final round of our plan and then I absolutely do want to marry you, Diana Farley. And throw a bloody royal feast for it.”

A/N 2: I hope that was a surprise for you! It sure was one for me that I managed to write something that made Me The Aro not disregard marriage as a repulsive patriarchal tool to control money and female sexuality let’s stop here but beam along with my OTP. As I worked really long on this, some things were changed and I want to make a honourary mention of the dancing montage bringing Fade from their room to the ballroom including a time skip - it’d work better in movie version ;-)

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