#i remember when maven in one of her reactions was like the show is making lestat a white savior

[vividxp]

I've tried a couple of times to get my thoughts organized regarding white viewers commentary on how AMC's IWTV handles race, but I'll just simply say there's definitely a cynicism that is common in a lot of those analysis that is...bemusing.

#iwtv #amc iwtv #iwtv discourse #it's hard to describe #but it's half 'amc did the raceswap to get wokeness points so they have to beat audiences on the head with it every other minute' #and half 'oh they're just addressing race in the wrong way and it hurts the credibility of loustat as a couple' #i remember when maven in one of her reactions was like the show is making lestat a white savior #and literally all the black people (including me) in comments were like 'huh??' #I was also reading another recap that was generally really good and interesting esp about nola #but they thought Claudia calling Lestat massa #was the show handling race clumsily #which is just fascinating to me because wow folks really don't know why Claudia was doing that? #like that felt perfectly in character and spot on to me #first off she legitimately feels that way and we see her say that in the show #but at the same time it's also a point of attack that she can make without reprisal from lestat #lestat basically like disengages when she does it and it's funny to me ngl

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 10)

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything.  

Find the rest of the fic here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

Tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore,  @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @… the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

I’ve been freed from Protocol for the time being. Cal pulls the same strings as last time, and I am put into Training. It makes my blood sing to know that I am going to be joining him there too. One more place where we can protect each other and plan without anyone knowing. We are a secret, united front that the Silver’s will never see coming.

         It’s been a week since my first meeting with Farley. I almost expected Maven not to show up to join us, but just as he did before, he appeared out of the shadows with the servant Holland. He was just as full of the righteous fire I remembered, smiling at me and promising things he will never give. Swearing fealty to Farley and her cause for the good of everyone. I wish I had the courage to ask him if he had meant those things.

         I’d gone back to my rooms cold and shaken, feeling in all senses of the word numb. Walsh had to practically guide me back to avoid me taking wrong turns and getting lost. In bed, I drown in the memories of the future that I am rapidly stumbling towards, trying to keep my head up as the tides suck me deeper. I toss and turn for hours, kicking the blankets off before pulling them back on when I wake from my hazy doze shivering uncontrollably because of invisible silent stone walls.

         I’d slipped through the secret door in my closet and felt my way through the dark tunnel to Cal’s rooms. It was silent in them, not even the sound of his breathing disturbed the space. Sure enough, his bed was empty and neatly made. He wasn’t even in Summerton. I’d sunk onto the bed before slipping under the blankets and burying myself in his smell.

         I’d woken to warm hands lifting me out of the blankets. Gripping his shirt, I’d whispered sleepily to him as he carried me back to my rooms. His voice was soft as he’d replied with a gentle, “you’re fine. I’ve got you.” I had to enter my room alone though, just to avoid the cameras seeing him.

         Now standing in the training room a week later, I still can’t shake the blanket of cold that envelopes me. Dread pools in my stomach the closer we get to the Ball and the closer I get to those names Maven will deliver. Everything is working perfectly, I have no reason to worry. And yet, a part of me quivers with nerves. Maven is as charming as ever, but something bubbles behind his eyes. Maybe it’s because I know what to look for now and I see it. But I had been just as untrustworthy the first time around. I would have seen it then too.

         Standing off to the side with my arms crossed I watch the young Silvers prepare for a session of tearing each other apart. Inhaling slowly, I take in the scent of the freshly washed matts and the summer breeze from the open windows. It’s been sweltering for the past few days, and sure enough a bead of sweat rolls down between my shoulder blades, tracing the track of my spine.

         On the other side of the training room, Cal catches my eye. He quirks a brow before pushing off the wall he’s leaning against. Strolling across the room, he tucks his hands into the pockets of his training jacket. When we’re standing side by side he rolls his shoulders a few times and says, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there a few nights ago.”

         “You were off being a crown prince.” I say and wave my hand for emphasis, “doing crown prince things.” My lips quirk up a little bit at the edges when his frown deepens. I haven’t teased him much since we got stuck here, I forgot how much fun it is.

         “I won’t lie; I did think someone put a dead body in my bed.”

         “Don’t be dramatic.” I tease him, hiding my smile behind my hand. On the other side of the room, Evangeline holds court around the targets. She hasn’t made any moves like she did in the breakfast room weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have something planned. If I recall, today is dueling day, and this was when she decided to take a piece out of my face.

         “Hard for him not be, he’s so very good at it.” Maven’s voice cuts the air between us like a knife. I spin to face him quickly, throwing up a smile to hide the fear that rushes through me. He tilts his head to the side and smiles as well. “What is he being dramatic about now?”

         Cal clears his throat, and hides his discomfort with a laugh. Setting his hand on Maven’s shoulder and squeezing he says lightly, “something to do with Shadow Legion. It’s been… difficult.”

         If Maven is fooled by our game, I cannot tell. A part of me sends a silent prayer that he didn’t hear anything. But a smarter part of me chastises myself for even falling prey to my fears and searching out Cal. Have I doomed us with my little slip up?

         “So I’ve heard, has Rhambos been giving you trouble again?” Maven grins at Cal in the way only brother’s sharing a private joke can.

         “You have no idea.” Cal’s relief is near invisible, and I have to force my own to be that way as Maven comes to stand next to me. His eyes dart to me and he gives me a small, tentative smile. I return it, wondering exactly what is going through his mind. What I wouldn’t give to be a Whisper just so I can know if we are in the clear.

         He turns his eyes forward as Arven calls Tirana forward to duel. His name comes next, and as he leaves my side, the little bubble of heat I didn’t notice him exuding leaves with him. His shoulders are tense as he steps into the makeshift arena to face the nymph. Next to me, Cal’s hands clench into fists.

         When he comes sulking out, dripping water all over the floor, his eyes are burning. They dart to me and soften for a heartbeat before hardening once more. Mercifully, Cal keeps his mouth shut and turns to watch the next match when Maven steps in between us. The air crackles with heat, and a few of the other Silvers take a step back, making it appear as if they are simply interested in something else.

         “Nothing to say?” Maven murmurs when Cal continues to sit in silence. My eyes dart to them, and my hand slowly closes in a fist at my side.

         “There’s nothing to say.”

         “You always have something to say, forgive me if it’s a surprise when you don’t.” Maven turns those eyes on Cal, and I imagine his stare could turn Cal into a puddle of human parts if he weren’t a burner as well. He’s instigating, something I never saw him do. Or maybe it’s happened before and I never got the chance to see it. Cal makes no move to show me panic, so maybe Maven being this bitter has occurred sometime in the past before I met them. Maybe nothing is wrong and he’s picking a fight because he’s upset about the embarrassment of his loss.

Straightening his shoulders, Cal turns a neutral look onto Maven, sweeping him over with his eyes. “You could have beat her if you had given her a bit more space. You were stronger than her the whole fight.” Cal assures, his eyes dancing to me for a moment. We both know that isn’t what he said last time. But this didn’t occur last time, and without a script Cal struggles.

Maven’s entire body tenses, even as his expression cools. It’s such an odd contradiction that I’m not quite sure what will happen next. Reaching out, I close my hand around his wrist and squeeze. He’s cold as ice, and I shiver involuntarily as my skin makes contact with his. I don’t know why I expected heat.

His flips around to look at my hand, his lips pursed in a tight line. I swallow my grimace and offer him a gentle, knowing smile.

“There will be more fights. More important fights.” I raise my brow, hoping he takes my hint. The anticipation of his reaction practically drives me to dig my nails into his skin. I’m surprised he doesn’t flip around and demand to challenge Cal right here, right now. It would be a short fight, but it would be no less damning.

His shoulders soften though, and his stance shifts to one of embarrassment. “Of course.” He murmurs, his other hand coming to rest on mine. “There always are.”

 Hiding my relief behind a smile, I try to pull my hand away. I can’t believe I thought he would actually go to blows with Cal. He’s smarter than that, and better at playing the long game than I give him credit for in the moment.  

Before I can pull my hand away completely, he grips it tighter and stares me down, daring me to pull away. He puts up the mask then, the one that I loved dearly and searched for during my months with him in Archeon.

 “Even if some battles are already lost.” He whispers as he leans close to me so his words are only for me.

He’s a desperate boy now. I can hear the ache in his voice. What does he know? What does his mother know? Nothing, I’m certain they know nothing. Elara didn’t get anything from me, and she hasn’t gotten anything from Cal. We’ve been careful enough, we’re never together in a way that anyone could question. We haven’t even gone into that moonlit room yet. I haven’t put a knife in Maven’s back yet. Maybe he was more jealous of my escapade to the Stilts than I initially noticed. That’s the only thing he has to work with, and maybe the fact that Cal and I were obviously teasing each other before training just now. He’d never been so outwardly jealous of Cal though. His jealousy was always a quietly simmering pot that never overflowed. He was so much more dangerous because of that.

Pulling away from me when I stay silent, he gives me a rueful smile and turns to face the arena where Elane and Sonya are tearing each other to pieces. I can’t focus though; my mind turns into a tail spin of panic. Have we slipped up? Did I damn us a few nights ago? Are we even off track? What if we are? What has changed?

I am so lost in my own thoughts I almost miss Evangeline demanding our fight. Lifting my eyes to her, I take in her gloating smile. She senses my panic, but has no inclination of the source.

Maven jumps to my defense like a cat would to a mouse. Evangeline doesn’t back down though. I should be grateful for this, at least something is back on track. It’s been a while since I’ve been glad for Evangeline Samos, and even though she is not my friend now, she is the closest thing I’ve seen since training started.

 (/////)

 Sitting in the darkness of my room that night, I watch the moonlight as it passes over the floor. Are the Sentinels watching me on their screens, wondering if I’ve lost my mind? I doubt it. Unless Elara had told them to keep a closer eye on me. I wouldn’t be surprised, when she’d corned me and Maven in the hallway I had felt her creeping in my mind, searching in the mirrored halls I’d barely had enough time to drag up to protect my memories.

Sighing, I let my head fall into my hands as I breathe. Focusing on the hum of the cameras, I follow the source of the electricity along the wires. The purr of the current fills my senses and drowns me. For a moment, I let myself just exist in the peaceful darkness behind my eyelids. Things will only get harder from here. I regret not tuning for Montfort more than anything now. 

A gentle knock on the door drags me out of my meditation. Raising my eyes to the door, I wrap my robe tighter around me as I stand. My steps are near silent as I creep across the room and crack open the door.

Leaning against the frame of the doorway, Cal looks more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. With a shadow creeping along his jaw, he looks more like he did in Montfort. He was on the verge of doom and greatness here, and there too. He wears the years he’s already lived tonight in the bags under his eyes and the weariness of his shoulders. 

When he spots the sliver of my face behind the door, he gives me a tentative smile. “Up for a dance?” He asks quietly as I open the door a little wider. 

Nodding, I let him pull me out of my room and toward a moonlit room where I can at least pretend for a little while that I’m safe even if I’m the furthest from safe that I’ve ever been.

 (////)  

 In the hours leading up to the ball, while I am being painted and primed, the names Maven gave as targets ring through my head. When he had visited me late in the dark to tell me them, I had expected him to give me different names. I’d whisper to Cal that I thought I had messed up, and given us away. He’d tried to assure me that everything would alright. And when we kiss this time, there was a desperation to it. Like Maven, he is terrified to lose me, and he poured that fear into the kiss he gave me. 

Reynold Iral, Ptolemus Samos, Ellyn Macanthos. Belicos Leorlan. Those names chase me and haunt my waking hours. The prospect of them being wrong, and Maven adding more names, or different ones, haunts me even more. 

Belicos with his two young children who will die tonight too, Ptolemus Samos who will live to someday kill my brother but father a beautiful daughter with Wren, Colonel Macanthos with her sly eye that can see right through Elara’s schemes, and Reynold, a man I’m pretty sure is lost somewhere anyway dance behind my eyelids and in the corner of my eyes. I don’t think I will ever be rid of my ghosts. 

I couldn’t breathe when I stood before Mareena and saw her in the mirror. She was lovely and wicked in the light of my room, and I’m sure she’ll look the same way at the ball tonight. The dress is the same riotous mess of gemstones and purple fabric that I hate even more this time around, especially when I have to stand next to Maven and observe him in his beautiful charcoal suit. He is beautiful in it, as beautiful as I remember. It makes my stomach twist every time I look at him.

The pleasantries leave me just as breathless, and I can feel Evangeline’s eyes on me as she glares down the line at the people who are to come. It’s almost a relief when Maven pulls me out onto the balcony, just so that I can inhale fresh air. As we go, I feel the brush of Cal’s hand as he reaches back to catch my skirt. My eyes dart to him in warning, but he’s already hiding the movement behind setting his hand on Evangeline’s back and smiling at Belicos as he steps forward to greet them.

Even as Maven pulls me onto the balcony, my heart is pounding. Seeing Belicos a second time does nothing to ease the ache in my heart. His children, I remember their bodies laid out next to his like they were nothing. Was Maven’s emotion in the moment a scam? Had he felt anything seeing their little bodies. I don’t know what’s real and the closer we get to the moment, the more my fear increases. .

         “You’re giving them a father.” I whisper, the words like poison on my tongue. He’d give anything to topple the Guard, and he did give everything. Even if I hadn’t been enough to completely crush us. At the same time though, he wasn’t the one to truly give those names. Elara told him who to pick and he acted like a good little mouth piece.  He could have chosen not to give that name though. In the moment he could have chosen to spare a father and his children. He’d made that choice. I know he’s braver than he claims, especially where Elara is concerned. Farley was right to call him a coward.

         He lets go of me but doesn’t step away when I speak. He stays close instead, his hands just ghosting over my skin. He looks like a marble statue in the moonlight, his lips drawn in a tight line. Achingly beautiful, a boy on the cusp of manhood and his own demise, an angel teetering over the edge of the abyss. 

He backs me into the wall, his eyes like chips of ice in the pale plane of his face. Slowly he places his hands on either side of my head, trapping me so that I have to listen to him.

         “Reynald is a father, too. The Colonel has children of her own. Ptolemus is now engaged to the Haven girl. They all have people; they all have someone who will mourn them.” The words are forced and cold. A part of him believes those words but the larger part of him, the one Elara has groomed to be king someday knows it must be done. “We can’t pick and choose how to help the cause, Mare. We must do what we can, whatever the cost.”

         My skin feels like it’s alive. I might electrocute him right here, right now, until he backs away from me. I have half a mind to press my hand to his chest and shove him over the balcony. It would take one push, and I know all the weak points to knock someone of balance now. It would be so easy. I could claim it was the Scarlet Guard, that they appeared on the balcony and pushed him.

         His breath is warm on my face as he whispers, “I want this to be done with the least blood shed possible.”

         His hand trembles as he brings it up to brush his fingertips along my cheek, a ghost of a touch, like he can’t bear to let his skin connect with mine. “Tonight will change everything.”

         My heart pounds harder against my ribs as he pulls back enough to give me space. His eyes dance away from me and back to the line of dwindling nobles. The pleasantries are over, it’s time. Even if I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready though.

         The shadows break again and I recognize Cal’s familiar outline as he steps onto the balcony. “You two all right out here?” His expression is hesitant, probably worried that he’s interrupted a moment that I am supposed to be getting information. His eyes linger on me, his expression softening. These next moments will be the hardest. “You ready for this, Mare?”

         Maven jumps on my silence. “She’s ready.”

         Taking my arm in his, he pulls me along. He was never this aggressive with me. At least, not that I remember. Maybe I had been so blinded by my emotions of the night that I hadn’t realized how he was acting. He’s agitated though, and monsters are dangerous like that. 

         Still, Cal’s fingers brush against my wrist, his touch somehow colder than Maven’s. I wish he actually took my hand and held it. When I look over my shoulder at him, his expression is stormy. He’d never been so outwardly nervous about Maven. At least he’s not afraid. We know what comes tonight. I told him what to expect, and he knows what he has to do. I wonder if he will be able to put Farley through the pain of the Gilican shiver’s torture now. I have to rely on him to do just that though.

        Evangeline appears at his side, her jewel encrusted fingers enclosing his arm. She squeezes tightly when she sees my eyes lingering on him. 

     Oh Evangeline. I wish I could help her now. She has her own battle to fight though. 

         Maven’s lips almost brush my ear as he whispers to me, “This is the hard part.”

         Even with all the eyes on me, I don’t blush. He pulls me into the frame but his skin is warmer than I remember. And as we start the dance, his eyes never leave my face. What is he looking for there?

         As we move in the box formation, he raises a brow and his lips curl into a smile. “You’ve been practicing.”

         “A bit, didn’t want to step on your toes.” I reply with my own smile. I put as much true joy as I can behind it. 

           His eyes flash for a moment and he leans a little closer to whisper, “You’re just full of surprises.” He chuckles, and the grin he gives me as he pulls back makes my stomach flutter. There is the boy that had captured my trust and my heart. I turn away at the sight of it, my stomach dropping.

         I spot Cal spin Evangeline, who looks more like a glittering ball of spikes than a human. I’m surprised she doesn’t slice Cal’s hands open when he rests them on the back of the dress. I miss her more casual regalia that she wears in Montfort. I never saw her casual outfits that she wore here, but I imagine she carried that style into Ascendant.

Sensing my gaze, Cal’s eyes meet mine. His fingers close around Evangeline’s waist, and a million memories of him doing the same thing with me come back. I can almost feel his hand sliding around my waist in the tiny living room of our apartment as he hums the song playing on the radio. I can remember laying my head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his humming reverberating in his chest. He can’t carry a tune to save his life, but it is still wonderful.

We spin through two songs until I feel dizzy with anticipation. Just when I think Maven will pull me to the side though, he leans close to me. I almost pull away, but instead force myself to stay close and turn my head slightly to give him a shy smile. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them though.

         “I told you that everything changes tonight.” He breathes against my ear. I nod, confused where this is going. “And I do have to admit that I’ve… kept something from you.”

What? What is he getting at? I pull away, panic flaring through me as I search that face for the truth. He’s too good at hiding it though. I grip his hand tightly, prepared to push as much electricity through his body as I can muster.

His hand burns in my grip instead. My lips curl in pain, but he ignores it and spins me so that my back is to the crowd around us. Forcing me to step into the next dance, he tilts his head forward again to whisper. “I did give Farley four names. But I lied to you about one of them.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice is cold, dangerous too. He senses it, pulling back a fraction. We stop dancing, and his hands drop to his sides. My heart beats so erratically, I worry it might beat right out of my chest.

He tilts his head to the side, his lips falling. “Ptolemus is a good target. Removing him would send the officers into chaos. But there was… a better target, one that would cause more chaos.”

“Who did you give?”

Who did your mother give? I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake it out of him. His lips curl up slowly, a remorseful smile if I ever saw one from him. My blood goes cold at the sight of it.

“Farley agreed with me that you were getting too close, that your attention was becoming divided. She also agreed that if there was ever a time to cut the head off the snake it was now.” He takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “I’ll step up in his place. My father will never recover from the loss, so Farley can do what she pleases. It is a win for all of us.”

Realization burns through my stomach, followed immediately by frozen panic. “What have you done?” I wheeze as I flip around, searching the crowd, desperately trying to find Cal’s silhouette. In the mass of bodies, I can’t find him and my fingers twitch at my sides as I glance up in the rafters. The Sentinels pace, searching the crowd but they are looking in the wrong places. Above them, shadows move too. The Guard is already in position, ready to carry our Farley’s plot. 

“I know that you two have become…friends.” Maven begins, taking my hand and pulling me back around so that I face him. I try to turn my head and search the crowd still, but he grabs my chin and drags my eyes back to his face. “That’s why I asked Farley to take the shot. She’ll give him a quick end. One bullet and a dynasty will end.”

One bullet that won’t miss. One bullet that will tear my future away from me. One bullet that will break me, because Farley never, ever misses.

My blood boils and sparks dance on my fingertips as I glare at him. Cold calm washes over me as the rush of adrenaline leaves. I am in battle mode now; survival is all I can think about when I stare down the man before me.

“Farley removed you from the mission. That’s why I didn’t tell you I gave her his name. She thought you might compromise us.”

We were wrong. I gave something away. Elara never would have dared to target Cal. She needs him to get rid of his father, she needs a scapegoat. But if she looked in my head or his and saw the future, she would have seen that he is more trouble than he’s worth. She would have found out that cutting him from the equation might someday save her and Maven.

If I turn and run after him, I will confirm whatever they believe about us, whatever they have found. But if I sit here, I will lose everything. I can’t go after him; I can’t save him or else I risk Farley and compromising this whole mission.

I am a selfish creature though. I always have been, and I always will be.

Ripping my hand from Maven’s grip I flip around to push my way through the crowd. I have time, there’s still time. I am racing against a clock I can’t see though. It’s like push through mud as I shove my way through the crowd. People gasp and glare at me, but I have eyes only for one person and I can’t find him.

My eyes start to water, and my breathing comes in ragged gasps.

Farley doesn’t miss. And she will make sure she doesn’t miss this time.

Memories of him lying on the sand of Harbor Bay, grey and lifeless threaten to overtake me. I shove them down. He won’t be made into a symbol tonight. I still have time.

There.

He stands with his back to me, speaking quietly with some military personnel or another. I shove through the last of the crowd, my hand extended for him. Elara’s eyes are on me, I can feel them, but I don’t care. I don’t care about keeping things on track. Jon can damn himself to the hells. I won’t lose him.

“Cal!” I scream his name, making him turn. His brows furrow, his expression confused by my panic and fear. I’m five steps away. Then four, hand outstretched as he takes a tiny movement forward as if he might meet me halfway. He never gets the chance.

The lights drop and four guns fire at the same time.

I scream so loud that my own ears ring. The lights around us flare to life on their own by the sheer force of my ability. My vision tunnels, even as someone slams into me from the side, screaming in panic as the lights directly above me explode in a shower of sparks. 

I shove them away from me and sprint to his downed form. The man he’d been speaking to is gone, probably lost in the panic. People are screaming, shouting and pointing to the roof.

I slide the last foot between us on my knees and come to his side. Blood, there’s so much blood. I choke on a sob as I try to find the source of it. His eyes are open though, and his mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.

Relief like nothing I’ve ever felt rushes through me, and I choke on his name as I feverishly try to find the source of the blood. It’s staining his uniform and pooling around his shoulder. His hands press to his chest, and I immediately press my hands on top of his. Sticky, burning blood pours through my fingers though.

“Mare.” His voice is ragged as he gasps my name, and I tear my eyes from the wound long enough to meet his eye. His going grey, the black undertones starting to appear under his eyes.

“No, stop trying to talk. You have to keep breathing.” I cry as I press the heels of my palms harder into the wound. More blood pours out and I feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle when I reach down and rip some of my dress off to press it to the wound. “Healer! Someone get a healer!” I scream to the panicked crowd. They’re like spooked animals though. No one notices their crown prince on his back bleeding out.

His hand closes weakly around my wrist and squeezes, trying to get my attention. His eyes are wide, but his expression is anything but fearful. “Don’t—” he begins, but ends up coughing on blood instead.

“No, no, no.” I sob as I push harder and glare at him. “No last words Calore. Not tonight. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to sit and drink coffee and talk with Julian again, and see Clara and my family again. And—and we’re going to see our baby, we’re going to hold him and watch him grow and become a better person than either of us. It’s going to be fine. Everything will be fine!”

His grip weakens on my wrist even as he smiles. My throat closes and I drop my chin to my chest. It’s a pretty picture I paint, but it fades with every slow beat of his heart. “Help!” I scream uselessly one more time, hoping someone will hear, that someone will come to my aid.

The crowd parts for a moment, and Sara who whipped around at the sound of my scream finds me. She barrels her way to us, and drops to her knees on Cal’s other side.

“Help him, save him.” I sob at her.

Her lips twist at the sight of all the blood, but she immediately pushes my hands away from the wound and replaces my hands with hers. Cal’s head falls back and his eyes close the minute she does. I leap for him, grabbing his face and trying to get him to open his eyes again. His neck falls slack in my grip through and I end up almost shaking him.

“Open your eyes, open your fucking eyes.” I scream at him, tears pouring like rivers down my cheeks. Hands grab me and try to pull me away, but I thrash against them and scream. When I’m flipped around, I meet Julian’s tortured expression.

He pulls me to him, keeping me out of Sara’s way as she works. His eyes never leave his nephew’s face. I wonder if he is seeing his sister in his grey features. Cal looks like a corpse, and my entire body feels like a live wire set to explode at any second.

“Don’t let him die. Please, don’t let him die.” I beg Sara, reaching a hand out to grab Cal’s hand. It’s cold in my grip and I almost vomit when my stomach clenches.

Her eyes dance up to me, and I see the resolve there. Is he lost? I don’t know if I will be able to bear that burden, if I will be able to survive this crushing blow.

She pulls her blood stained hands away and I dive out of Julian’s arms to grab at Cal. For a moment, I think he’s truly gone and a pained sob leaves my chest, sounding more like a scream than a moment of weakness. Underneath my hands though, his chest hitches with a breath, and then begins to rise and fall slowly.

The ballroom is practically empty around us. The royals have fled, the Sentinels have gone after Farley and the others. All that is left is us and the corpses. But there is one less among them.

“Cal,” I whisper to him as I brush his hair off his forehead. His eyes open for a moment only to close in a grimace.

“I wasn’t one of the targets.” He breathes, and I slowly let my forehead fall to rest on his chest. He wasn’t, but he survived. Turning to answer my call had saved his life. He’d changed his positioning, too fast for Farlet to correct her shot before the lights went out. She’d shot blindly, and almost succeeded in killing him.

“This sounds like a conversation for more… private chambers.” Julian’s voice is a dangerous rumble. I glance at him over my shoulder, belatedly realizing that he saw me sob over a prince that is not mine. He heard Cal mention targets, and judging by the fury behind his eyes, he is rapidly putting two and two together.

“Julian,” I reach for him, but he pushes to stand and then steps up to Cal’s other side.

“Sara will finish her work in my rooms. You two will come with us.” He bends down to grab one of Cal’s arms and help him sit up. I almost try to stop him, but he glares down at me. “Help me get him up and moving. We will have to move quickly.”

I crawl over Cal and grab his other arm before helping him to his feet. He stumbles, barely able to take his own weight. I grunt underneath him, and press into his side. Already I can feel the heat returning to his skin, and it sends such a thrum of relief through me that I have to swallow more tears.

 (////)

 Julian’s rooms are dark and after he helps me deposit Cal on one of the couches, he works quickly to shut all the curtains and lock the doors. I search for the cameras, but there are none for me to turn off.

He lights a few candles and brings them to the side table to light Sara’s work space. She shoes me away and takes my place at Cal’s side before tearing his ceremonial suit off. While she healed the artery that was severed, there is still a bullet in his chest. I can just catch one of the edges reflecting in the dim light.

Sara holds out an expectant hand and not even a heartbeat later, Julian sets a small cloth wrapped set of tools in her hands. She sets them in her lap and goes to work as I edge around the back of the couch and take one of Cal’s hands in my own. His pulse is getting stronger with every passing second, and his grip increases as Sara digs the first tool in to get the bullet out.

“Both of you, talk.” Julian’s fury is like nothing I’ve seen before. Even when I came to him for help in freeing Farley and Kilorn, he had still been soft, quiet. This fury is the fury of a man that has seen horrible dark places and is terrified to be forced back into them. 

I glance at Cal who grimaces and grinds his teeth together when Sara starts to tug on the bullet. He won’t be able to make this decision right now.

“You wouldn’t believe us.” I say quietly before looking up at Julian and begging him to understand my hesitation. 

“Try me.” He grinds out past his clenched jaw.

My stomach turns and Cal squeezes my hand. I glance down at him, and he nods slowly. We have been compromised. It’s time.

“You have to… listen the whole time. Don’t waste time with questions.” I urge, and in the low light, Julian’s nod creates dark shadows across his features. He looks older than I’ve ever seen him. Bowing my head, I inhale slowly and then launching into the story, starting with the most dangerous truth.

It takes more time than I want for Sara to finish with Cal, and for me to finish the story. As he gets stronger, Cal interjects, adding bits and pieces that I forget. Julian keeps true to his word and stays quiet, but his expression pulls into a deeper and deeper frown as we go. 

“How could you not trust me with this. If you know what I am to be to you, why would you not seek out my help immediately?” He pushes to his feet and begins pacing the space before us. Sara watches him, her eyes solemn.

“We—I didn’t want to put you in danger.” Cal whispers, pushing to a sitting position. I try to push him back down, but he fights me off.

“I end up in danger anyway.” Julian turns his gaze on Cal, but it’s softened considerably. I relax as he steps forward to look both of us over. “You’re certain Elara knows the truth?”

“Cal wasn’t a target. But Maven made him one tonight and pushed me off the mission. He knew about me and Cal and if he knows about that, then he knows about everything else.” I whisper, and take the rag Sara had brought a few minutes ago. Wiping some of the blood of Cal’s chest, I shake my head. “I gave us away completely tonight by saving you.”

Cal closes a hand over mine and squeezes softly.

“You must have given yourselves away some time before that.” Julian stops his pacing to set his fists on his hips. Glaring at the carpet like it is the sole reason for his worry, he says, “and now you are once again at the mercy of Elara’s mechanisms.”

“Not exactly.” Cal argues, sitting up completely and starting to shrug his uniform jacket on. Julian raises a brow at his words, but waits until Cal gives up with the buttons to let him speak. 

“We know what her ultimate end game is, and there is more than one way to get to the point we want.” Cal glances at me warily. “You and Maven are supposed to meet with Farley when we get to Archeon. You are going to have to warn her, and tell her the truth. All of it.”

I jump to my feet, shock coursing through me. “Have you lost your mind? Julian would understand, but Farley?”

“Farley will understand if you tell her the truth and give her proof.” Cal urges.

Sara and Julian watch our responses bounce back and forth like spectators at some sports match. It’s my turn to pace though, so I start wearing a trench into the floor, grabbing fistfuls of my gown as I do so. “Even if I did manage to get her to believe me, what are we going to do?”

“Elara doesn’t know that I know right?” He reasons with a tilt of his head. I pause my pacing to glance at him. He finishes buttoning up his jacket and nods at whatever plan is forming in his head. “She may think you are the only person that knows the future. That only you are here.”

“What are you talking about? If she’s seen my memories—”

“Then she’s only seen the ones formed before.” Julian jumps on the plan. His eyes dart between the two of us. “You would know if she was in your head Cal. And you are certain she has not looked. She has only seen your memories Mare. As far as she is concerned you are the only person with knowledge of the future.”

“Then why get rid of Cal tonight?” I wave a hand at him for emphasis. My fingers are still shaking, and my body still feels numb from the near death scare.

“You said so yourself. He plays a role in toppling her and Maven. Remove the tumor before it becomes cancer.” Julian offers with a shrug. Setting his hand on my shoulder, he gives me a tired smile. “You may still have a card up your sleeve. Go to… Farley, and get her to believe your story. Make a new plan, one that will put you back on track.”

How am I going to do that? How will I keep Maven in the dark? I’m smart, but he’s always been so much smarter than me, and with the knowledge Elara now has, the game has just become that much harder.

Cal rises on shaky legs, his expression cold. “Speaking of Farley, she might be done in the cells now.”

My blood goes cold and I blink stupidly. “But you didn’t catch her this time. She got away.”

“I didn’t catch her the first time. The Sentinels had already apprehended her by the time I caught up to them.” He nods to Sara and with a slow dip of his head whispers, “thank you, for saving my life.”

She smiles at him, a tiny weak expression but it lights up her face. She takes Julian’s hand and rises from her chair.

It feels good to have the two of them on our side now, playing the game with us. Maybe with them, we can actually win this time around.

#The Chain #my writing #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #my fanfics #thank you so much to everyone who stuck around and waited #here it finally is #she's thic and important and she knows it #(((: #I know it moves fast at the end but it's time to pick up the pace with this fic #I've been dragging it out too long. #marecal #the eternal ship #and now they get to be badasses together #it's great

[themadauthorshatter]

You guys know me too well at this point.

I did one of these for Cal, and I don't really make solo posts on Maven.

These are some headcanons about Maven's headcanon pets, a doberman and black cat.

This is just my personal AU where Maven lives and everyone's happy, because I miss when Maven was a good brother and person 😭😢😭😢😭

Anyway, HERE ARE THE HEADCANONS!!!!

Elara was against the idea of Maven having any kind of animal because it would distract him.

Even after her death, he was unsure of getting a pet.

Pre-Pet AU turn for the better where Maven, instead of fighting Mare to the death, pushes her and runs away. She follows him to see he has collapsed and is having something of a mental/emotional breakdown. He is on the floor screaming and holding his head. He passes out.

Cal finds them both and Mare helps him carry Maven to a cell, one not made of silent stone, and with no candles or anything that can make a spark.

After some time, and some therapy, let's be real here, Maven gets his own place to live, even thoguh he spends some nights with Cal. And his doggo Sweetie. And Fink the Cat.

He's confused as to WHEN and, honestly, why Cal got these two, but understands the latter when he sees his brother lit up and relax when Fink climbs onto his shoulders, something he has not seen in a very long time. Cal still admits it was Julian's idea.

Maven thinks on it while Sweetie gives him some love; "Mah hooman is in TWO!? YAAAS!!!"

Once he's in his own place and settled, hating the silence and solitude, he makes a pro-con list, talks to the person who's been keeping an eye on him, on a guard, but something of a parol officer and therapist, and has a really bad nightmare before he decides to adopt a dog, but he's not getting anything fluffy and soft like Sweetie because she's not the best guard dog.

The person keeping an eye on him tells him that this is a great idea because giving love to something, like a dog or cat, might help him. I know I'm being too fanfic-y here, but I want good boy Maven back, okay?😭😢

He gets his companion on his way to the shelter, i.e. a stray on the side of the road, a black doberman with one bleeding cropped ear and one floppy, normal ear.

This is the text conversation when Maven arrived home:

"I got a dog."

"That was quick. How'd everything go?"

"Fine? I found him on the side of the road. I don't think he likes me."

"What breed is he? Send a picture."

(Maven sends a picture of this doberman as it is curled up in the corner of his bedroom and growling at him.) "He literally hates me. What do I do?"

"Leave him alone for a little bit. I think he's might be one one those fighting dogs."

"I thought those were illegal." He almost sends, "I thought Father made that illegal," but doesn't and sends what I just typed.

"They are. I guess people still keep doing it."

"Blood money. Anyway, what should I do?"

"I don't know. I think one of the generals said it's better to make yourself smaller so the dog doesn't think you're dangerous or something like that, the Animos on the front. Try that."

"Alright."

Maven decides to sleep on the couch that night, because he doesn't want to get mauled, and leaves some food and water out because the doberman hasn't left his room since bringing him home. He wakes up late in the night in time to see this dog grab a little bit of food and then sort of check on the person that picked him up. He growls a little bit, when he sees Maven is awake, but is calmer when he smells and inspects him. Maven tries to pet the uninjured half of his head, but the doberman backs away; "We're not there yet."

Maven wakes up this morning to see the dog across the floor from him.

Three weeks later, the doberman, which Maven has named Dagger, Phantom, or Ghost, I'm going to call him Dagger for now because of how sharp he is, has started whimpering and shaking his head. Maven can't really go to a vet because they'll think he abused the dog, so he's left to his own devices

GORE TW! DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE: Remember that bleeding, cropped ear I mentioned? It's infested with mango worms. And, unless he wants to be listed as an abuser towards his new pet and be labeled a lost cause, Maven cannot go to a vet. Everyone knows he is an amazing liar.

He texts Cal, tells the person he's been talking to, and even tells Mare, asking what he should do before Cal says to wait for him and the person he's been talking to sends him instructions on how to remove these worms.

Go time. Maven gets some treats in his hands and lures Dagger to him until he's close enough for Maven to check his ear.

Cal is very careful to be quiet when he arrives and has a moment of "That's my boy" when he sees Maven petting and assuring Dagger that he's okay.

The two get to work, Cal holding Dagger as Maven gets the worms out; don't worry, they gave him some Melatonin to calm him down first.

GORE'S OVER! It takes a little while, and they have a few close calls when Dagger panics at being held down, but Maven gets all the worms out, cleans the infected ear, and wraps it up, Cal helping by holding Dagger and wrapping the ear.

When all this said and done, Dagger barks and snarls at Cal, growls at Maven, and runs back into Maven's bedroom.

I'm pretty sure I do not need to spell out what this dog went through anymore than I just did.

After Cal leaves and Maven cleans up(His house, his rules), he gives his progress to his doctor, not an actual nurse/surgeon doctor, but you know what I mean, "the person he's been talking to" is getting tedious, and mentions Dagger's reaction when they're done, thinking he might have some trauma. His doctor sees his point and assures him to be patient and thoughtful before musing that he and Dagger are very much alike.

This is a video Maven sent to Cal later that day:

(Like with the video of Sweetie, we take perspective of the phone camera as Dagger creeps into the hall connecting to the living room.)

"... Can I help you? Is your ear better now?"

(Dagger only stares at Maven, not growling and we and Maven cannot see if Dagger's tail is wagging or not.)

"(To Cal) He's been, sort of... watching me for a little bit. ...I'm so bored😐."

(Dagger stretches out of the hall and lies down, doing a doberman sploot.)

"(To Dagger)Hi."

(Dagger blinks at him)

"... Am I your favorite show? (More to himself, honestly, and a little quieter) ... Why do cats even watch the laundry?"

TIME JUMP

(Dagger has now rolled onto his back, smiling, and is staring at Maven, who is laughing his ass off for the first time in forever, and struggling to hold the phone up so Cal is going to be able to see.)

"I don't know what he's- (Laughter) Are you okay over there!?😂"

(Dagger sneezes, stands up, and shakes himself off before sitting down life nothing happened.)

"(More laughing) I CAN'T BREATHE! BMY COLORS!!!😂😂"

ANOTHER TIME JUMP!!!

(Maven holds his hand out, palm open and relaxed, as Dagger is creeping up to him. His ears are back ams eyes are wide as he smells and licks his hand. Dagger sits and Maven carefully scratches his head.) "Good boy. You're a good boy."

After this moment, Dagger's more active in inspecting and opening up to Maven, who is using his phone to record each instance to show Cal and his doctor. It's a little step more almost every time, pets on the head and body, a kiss on the face, sitting next to Maven on the couch, laying next to him in bed, and even having conversations.

I don't know what he'd do as a job, but once he's stable enough financially, he gets a proper video camera and computer to make the videos more presentable.

He later comes to realize he's better talking to the camera in the same way Cal writes in his journal. He is required to show these videos to his doctor, who tells him whatever he says is privileged information that is only shared between the two of them.

He also talks to his doctor through video calls/face time and most of those talks are interrupted when Dagger stares at Maven and barks for pets.

This is a conversation when one such event happened(I am not a psychologist and I saw a therapist sparingly, so if anything's not right, I'm so sorry):

"And how are you sleeping? Do you feel rested?"

"I'm pretty sure. It's a little worse when it storms, but overall I'm fine."

"Good. Still no dreams?"

Maven shakes his head. "My mother was really thorough."

As if sensing his uneasy, Dagger climbs onto the couch(he hasn't mastered jumping up yet) and rests his head on Maven's shoulder.

"Is that the dog you adopted?"

Maven nods and pets Dagger a little bit before returning to his conversation. "Yeah. I think he's getting better since I found him."

"It looks like he trusts you now."

"Thank goodne-"

Maven yelps and his doctor jumps when Dagger barks.

"Sorry!" Maven panics as his doctor fights a smile, not to be rude, but because this is cute. "I've been trying to teach him to use his paw to tell me 'more.'"

"While that is a bit much, that means he loves you and wants to leep feeling you. Touch is a strong sign of affection, especially for animals."

Now, Maven doesn't dream. Instead, he wakes up when he hears yelling and screaming in his head, primarily from Elara. Dagger is great at waking him up. Where Sweetie kisses Cal awake, Dagger... does the same, honestly. When that doesn't work, he cries and burrows himself into Maven's side to wake him up. The younger Calore brother goes back to sleep with Dagger in his arms. HE WILL NOT GO BACK TO SLEEP UNLESS DAGGER IS WITH HIM.

On his bad days, Maven will curl up and cover his ears, because it's loud in his head, and Dagger will either find a toy, maybe a tug of war rope, and make him play with him or force his way into Maven's arms and start panting from the heat. It helps distract Maven from the voices in his head.

Dagger hates the the rain. The first time he heard it, he barked and had HUGE anxiety fit. Maven had to help him through that, which meant MANY sleepless nights. It was worth it when Dagger fell asleep on the couch next to Maven while it was raining.

I know I've been talking about good boy Maven's good dog, all the same I think it's time we talk about the cat😊

Maven was napping with Dagger when he got a text from Mare that she found a kitten in the alley near where she lived. For context, this was a SMALL kitten, as in it fit in Mare's palms with no excess showing.

Yeah. That cat was his. And he thanked Mare so much that she told him. (Don't worry, they've been having a healthier relationship since the events of the war, however awkward).

Yes, he recorded bringing the kitten home and was so scared she'd end up dead in the morning because of how weak she was.

She was fine in the morning, just a little noisy because she missed him. He had to talk to his doctor while checking on her, and it wasn't easy when he had a kitten trying to climb up his shirt and on his shoulders.

Dagger KNOWS there's something behind the bathroom door, and he looks between Maven and said door to let him know; "Hooman. Dat door was unclosed before. Now it's closed and doing a noise. What behind da door?"

He was so scared to introduce the pets because Dagger is HUGE compared to her.

You know the comic Pixie and Brutus? Violet-the cat-and Dagger ARE Pixie and Brutus.

Maven thinks it's too cute when Dagger carries Violet by her scruff.

He was not happy when he learned she was a dwarf; Don't ask how, when, or how long ot took him to be allowed to see a vet and not look like he was falling back into bad habits.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "This is great, but didn't you talk about events such as a pandemic happening with our characters with pets? What does Maven DO with these two?" To which I say, This:

He talks to his doctor, records videos, and lives with his cat and dog.

He joined the group in a workout session, and there was one thing alone that gave everyone the proof they needed that he was growing and healing: While struggling to do push ups, Violet got close to his phone and knocked it over and Dagger stole it and ran around with it. These were their reactions when they saw his smile as he called Dagger and Violet silly and brats in the warmest and most loving way: Cal almost cried, Mare smiled, Kilorn's and Shade's jaws dropped, and Farley muted herself so she could tell a few of her men to listen better to Cal and Mare and the doctor looking after Maven, and to not worry about him, at least until she gives the word that they should.

Maven did upper body workouts with Dagger, who was so confused as to what was happening because Maven was holding him in a way that kept Dagger calm and was going up and down rather than down the hall. He whimpered, pawed, and barked to be carried again.

If Violet sees Maven having a bad time sleeping, she'll lay on his head and purr to calm him down. Works every time.

Dagger and Maven share a common interest: taking baths. Dagger is washed once every other week and has the biggest smile ever. Maven bathes at least once a month and Dagger comes into the bathroom to try and join him. Violet hates baths, both because she hates water and because she cries for Maven, or cries for Dagger, or anyone else, to help Maven.

Both animals are very smart and have puzzles to do.

Dagger is a sassy boy.

Dagger is also a really good guard dog, and Maven used to knock on his own door just to enter his home.

After having both Dagger and Violet, Maven has heard Elara's whispers less and less. Her voice isn't gone for good, but thanks to the support from Cal and having Dagger and Violet, the whispers are really manageable.

Sorry again if this is SUPER fanfic-y, like I said I want some serotonin and it's Maven's turn for some happiness!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this post!!!

#red queen #maven calore #cal calore #mare barrow #pets #possible angst #possibly funny #mental health #gore tw #trauma tw #implied abuse tw

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Family Fights - Chapter Eleven

Summary:  Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and the librarian is soon to learn this. As she learns sinister things about a person who she had thought was lost forever, she realizes she will need the help of another witch to get her family back.

Notes: First and most importantly: the pentacle is a symbol that belongs to an actual culture (Wiccan/witches), and by using it in this fic I do not, by no means, want to make it look like something ~aesthetic~ or silly or fake. Respect cultural minorities and stop insisting that their symbols are demonic thanks

Now that we got the important stuff out of the way: please imagine Johanna getting flustered when she opened the door and found Maven wearing a dress. Do that for me

(chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7) (chpt8) (chpt9) (chpt10) (chpt11)

Maven walked serenely with Hilda at her side. A feeling of lighthearted contentment washed over her, turning her steps light and her breathing easy. They’d gotten lucky with the weather - it had been sunny with a gentle breeze since early morning, and it was getting warmer by the minute. Although Maven generally prefered colder weathers, that day it fit her perfectly, in a way that she didn’t even resent having to forgo her comfortable pants and sweaters. Instead, she was wearing a purple summer dress that reached just past her knees and grey flats that she was reasonably sure hadn’t gotten out of her house for a whole year. A black wide-brimmed hat and a layer of sunscreen protected her from the sun. Summer was definitely here.

On top of that, her good mood was also due to her being very nearly alone with Hilda. When Maven showed up at her house, Johanna had confessed that she had a meeting with a client to attend, and asked her if there was any problem in leaving her to take care of Hilda by herself. It was a shame not to have Johanna’s company, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't happy that the woman finally trusted her enough to know she wouldn’t let harm come to her daughter. Their one other companion was Alfur, who seemed to have shown interest in that day’s lesson, probably because of the location.

Hilda was also wearing more appropriate clothing herself. When her mentor told her that they would be going to the beach that day (or at least to the closest thing Trolberg had to a beach), she’d ran into her room and come back in shorts and sandals. Maven hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed by their lesson not involving any traditional beach activities.

It took longer than the librarian had thought it would for Hilda to speak up. They had left her house a full block behind before the girl’s curiosity got the best of her.

“So, what are we doing today?” She asked. Never having been to the beach, except when she passed by it on her way to find the rat king in the sewers, it was hard for her not to be excited. And it also made her feel better that Maven seemed to be in a light mood, a far cry from her zombie-like appearance from a few days before.

“We are going to study about the five elements.” The librarian declared. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her apprentice frowning. A smile began to play at her lips.

Fire, water, earth, air. Hilda went over them on her head. But that’s only four. She was on the verge of wondering if those were not the elements that Maven was talking about when she noticed the amused glint on her eyes. She realized, then, that she wasn’t expected to know the answer.

“Well, which is the fifth?” She asked finally.

Maven kept her gaze straight forward as she walked. “The elements are what makes up everything. They’re the essence of the universe.”

“Really?”

“Well, I mean-” she shrugged. “Now we know about the atoms. But for witchcraft purposes it remains the same. You probably remember the most well known elements, but doesn’t something feel off to you? Much of the work we’ve done doesn’t involve any of the four.”

Hilda thought about it, and the more she did, the more it made sense. On their first real lesson, the librarian had taught her the most basic things in witchcraft, and although the earth had played an important role in the lesson, it hadn't been the main element of the practice.

“Energy?” She guessed, pleased when Maven nodded approvingly.

“Perfect thinking. We call it Spirit, but you got the idea.”

Hilda was silent for some time, which Maven took as a sign that she had sated her curiosity for now. Soon, they could already hear the soft crash of waves on the shore, and the cool wind that came from the sea was even stronger on their faces. The two of them walked to the area closest to the water, past the pebbles that covered the outside part of the beach, and into the warm sand. From the bag she was carrying, Maven took a towel and spread it out on the floor.

“Where is it?” Hilda asked while she sat down. “Spirit, I mean. I can see all the other elements, I know where to find them. But where is spirit?”

Maven shook her head fondly, letting herself get used to the fresh beach air. “Hilda, you’ve learned this already. Spirit is everywhere.”

_#_#_#_

They spent some time grounding. While they did so, Alfur sneakily got down from Hilda’s ear and hopped to the sand. He seemed to be trying to build himself a table out of the sand, but the witches tried not to let themselves be distracted by that.

After that stage was done, the librarian had Hilda do something different; instead of attuning herself to the world around her as a whole, Maven wanted her to connect with the four physical elements, one at a time.

Hilda chose to begin with fire. Under the librarian’s guidance, she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of the sun on her skin. It seemed simple enough, and she was about to ask what she was supposed to do next when the instructions came.

“Now I want you to summon the strongest memory with this element that you have.” Maven said. “It doesn’t have to be good, or bad, it just has to be strong. Put it in the forefront of your mind.”

She didn’t have to think for long to remember an episode. She still could remember the day very clearly. Wanting to learn how to light a fire, she’d stacked some sticks on the outside of her house, and stolen a match from the kitchen, since she had been very young and her mother didn’t allow her to use them back then. Her mother must have been very focused on her work that day, because when her fire didn’t catch, she had gone back inside and found some cooking oil inside the pantry.

When she had poured what she’d thought to be a reasonable amount of it on the sticks, she must have spilled some on the grass around them as well. Dropping the match to her pile, Hilda had watched in amazement, and then in horror, as the fire caught and spread to the grass around it. She’d been paralyzed, able to do nothing but watch it slowly take over its surroundings.

Luckily, her mother had showed up with a bucket of water and skillfully put the fire out. She still didn’t know how her mum had showed up so fast, without even needing to be called. Maybe the light of the fire had been visible through one of the windows, but regardless of how it happened Hilda was grateful to this day for Johanna’s quick reaction.

“Visualize it the best you can.” Maven whispered, doing the exercise herself. “The scent, the warmth… feel it as if it was happening right now.”

Surprised at how real it felt, Hilda brought back the smell of smoke to her nostrils, the impossibly bright light standing against the darkness of the wilderness’ night. She didn’t know if it was only a placebo or of the sun was getting stronger, but she could swear she felt her hands getting warmer.

“How, would you say, is there magic in it?” Hilda almost startled when the librarian asked. “Fire is used in many rituals. But which spells go with it?”

“Curses.” Hilda said immediately, thinking about the fear her young self had felt when faced with the fire’s ability to consume everything near it. “Or anything related to strength.”

Her mentor didn’t push her for more, and so she didn’t say anything else. It felt good to bask in that warmth, that memory of raw power. Soon, however, she found she was feeling quite lost in the exercise. Her skin felt like it was on fire, but not in an unpleasant way; instead, it felt like she was bathing in power, but she wasn’t sure if that was all she was supposed to be doing.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and had to stifle a gasp when she looked at Maven. She was kneeling on the ground, sitting on her feet, and her hands were cupped on top of her tights. Flickering on her palm, there was a strong flame, easily recognizable as magical because of the flashes of colour that shone inside of it every once in a while.

Had Maven not looked so calm, Hilda would have been worried for her burning herself. But as it was, the witch looked completely in charge of her work. She may have sensed that Hilda was staring at her, hypnotized by her magic, because she almost immediately opened her eyes.

“Is everything okay?” She asked when she noticed how startled Hilda looked. As she continued watching the fire, an excited smile took over her face.

“That’s so cool!” She exclaimed. “Was I supposed to do that?”

After taking a deep breath, Maven let her flame fade away.

“No,don’t worry about it. I don’t expect you to be able to summon the elements yet, it’s quite tricky.”

Yet, Hilda thought. With time and training, she’d be able to do things just like that. The idea made her exhilarated.

“Hold on.” She said when something occurred her, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Can’t people see what you’re doing?”

Before Hilda could look around them, anxiously checking for anyone that might have noticed the magic, Maven pointed to a symbol on the sand by the top of the towel.

“I already took care of that. Outsiders won’t see anything out of the ordinary when they look at us.”

A quick check told Hilda that Maven had drawn the sigil on each side of the towel, and she admired the intelligence of it. She thought she should probably memorize that sigil, it could be useful in many a situation.

They continued with the same exercises, and they made Hilda realize the reason why Maven had brought her to that place for the lesson. When they moved on to earth, the librarian gently guided her to burying her hands in the sand, feeling it pulse with energy under her. While she attuned herself to air, she noticed just how unyielding the wind was on that part of the town, and as she brought her focus to a lovely memory of dancing under the pouring rain with her mum, the sound of waves made it all more real. The elements were more intense in that place.

Something felt different about connecting to water. The feeling of cool raindrops falling on her skin felt too real, and she wondered if that was the objective of this dynamic.

“Which sort of spell goes with it?” Maven asked like she had for each element, but her voice sounded very distant to Hilda. Almost as if she was underwater and someone was talking to her from the outside.

“Intuition.” The words left her mouth without her even thinking about them, but they felt right, so she didn’t take them back. “Healing and emotions.”

“Hilda.” Her mentor said gently. “Open your eyes.”

Slowly, she blinked them open. She didn’t know when she’d done that, but during the exercise she’d raised her hands approximately to shoulder height, and now a thin stream of water was dripping from them. Her eyes widened, and as she lost her concentration, the stream dried out. Bringing her gaze to the librarian, Hilda saw that she was also wearing a smile.

“Very good, Hilda.” She said as they both looked at the wet spot in the towel where the water had fallen. “That’s very hard to get on the first try. You should be very proud of yourself.”

She was reminded that Alfur was with them when he clapped his hands for her, cheering at her success. She was admittedly quite stunned by what had happened, and she realized that it had been the first tangible piece of magic that she’d ever done. The sensation was thrilling, like she was finally on her way to being a real witch.

“I think this is enough practical training for today.” Maven said, using the same stick which she’d found on the floor and drawn the sigils to mix the sand and make them disappear. “Besides, the sun is getting too strong.”

Hilda extended her hand, still slightly wet, to Alfur, so that he could hop onto it and move back to her hair. Then, she got to her feet to allow the librarian to pick the towel up, waving it to get rid of the bulk of sand and storing it in her bag again.

“Just one last thing.” The librarian picked up the stick once more and brought the tip to the sand. She began making a drawing that looked like a star, but then she surrounded it by a circle. “Do you know this symbol?”

Hilda nodded. “Some kid doodled it on their desk, Ms. Hallgrim was livid. She says it’s evil and we should not go around drawing it.”

The girl was crestfallen when Maven pursed her lips and sighed in disappointment. She thought she’d been doing very well on that lesson, but that was not a positive reaction.

“Did I get it wrong?” She asked, holding herself back from fidgeting.

“Yes, but it’s not your fault.” Maven said gently, making Hilda drop her shoulders with relief. Her eyes were locked on the pentacle. “Many aspects of our culture were twisted to convince others that witches are vile. That’s the information most people have.”

“Look.” She used the stick to point to one of the tips. “Water.”

Hilda frowned as she too looked at the pentacle. There was no water in it, so she didn’t understand what her mentor was trying to say. Maven continued on, however, pointing at each tip at a time.

“Fire, earth, air.” She finally pointed to the tip at the top, the one she had drawn leading to the sea. “And spirit.”

“Oh.” Hilda sighed as she finally caught on to what she meant. The librarian then gestured to the circle that linked each tip.

“And the universe connecting them all. Do you see?”

Turning to the librarian to realize that Maven was already looking at her, Hilda grinned. “I do!”

Maven smiled shortly and dropped the stick to the ground. “It’s a lovely symbol. There are many meanings, but I like to use it for protection. It’s a shame it has such a bad reputation.”

Hilda had no chance to say anything before Maven began walking away. She took a few strides to catch up with her, and realized that she was still speaking.

“Does it sound good to you to grab some take out and go eat lunch at my house? I want to work through some theory with you but we really should eat.”

Hilda nodded, thinking about the perfect place to suggest. “That sounds just perfect, Maven.”

_#_#_#_

“Why do you think it only worked once?” Hilda asked. “The training, I mean. Why did it only work with water?”

The three of them were sitting on a couch in Maven’s leaving room. After lunch, they had spent some time going over the theory of elemental magic. Hilda wrote down information on her book of spells, which the librarian had asked her to bring over before they left her house for the beach, and Alfur quickly jotted down every word that left Maven’s mouth. He seemed to want to write a report on that particular area of magic.

It had been pleasant. She’d particularly enjoyed it when the librarian explained how the elements were incorporated in spells and the reasons behind them being included, which turned out to be the reason why she’d asked Hilda to say which spells she thought should use them. It turned out that, in the meditative state of connection she’d been, she’d gotten very close most of the time. Hilda had even asked which elements would be used in the Soul Spell (mostly Spirit, but also Fire for purification and healing, and Earth would be present in the form of the crystals they’d use). As nice as it had been though, she was glad for the little break that they were currently having.

“Just because you weren’t able to materialize the elements, doesn’t mean it didn’t work.” She answered. “You got in tune with them, and that was the point. But it is usually easier for a witch to do summon the element they lean towards the most.”

“So that would be water for me?”

Maven took a sip from her tea. She’d made some for the three of them, even going as far as putting some drops on a tiny cup that had belonged to her sister’s doll house for Alfur. “I’ve been noticing that you’re more of an Earth witch, actually. But Earth, just like Fire, are harder to get a hang of. There’s water in the air and, well, air in the air. So what the witch does is manipulate that which is already around them. With Fire and Earth, you actually need to create the element. Water is probably the second you relate to the most.”

“Oh, I see.” Hilda had barely finished speaking when the heard a thud from the outside. They looked in time to see something grey falling to the floor, but it was nothing recognizable.

“I’ll go see what that was!” Alfur said immediately as he put his cup down on the table. He was reasonably sure he knew what the source of the sound had been, and she didn’t want any of them to see him before he did.

“Are you sure?” Hilda asked. “It might be dangerous.”

“Don’t worry about me!” Before either of them could say anything else, the elf was already running towards the door which led to the back garden.

He didn’t even need to open the door, the gap under it was small enough for him to get through. Once he was out in the garden, he found exactly what he thought he would. A grey bird had his wing pressed to his head after having hit it in the window.

“Raven!” He exclaimed, striding to him, and he looked up to the elf. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.” He brushed it off. “I got your letter, but I didn’t want to send the reply by mail. Who knows who handles those letters.”

Alfur blinked, somewhere between startled and impressed. “You did it already?! It’s only been a few days! The librarian was looking for longer and she managed to find nothing!”

It was true that Raven had an advantage with his point of view from above, but Maven was nothing if not skilled in her craft, and looking into each house couldn’t be that much quicker with wings than it was with magic. He sighed, rubbing his head again, and Alfur thought that he should probably offer something for the pain as soon as he could.

“No wonder she didn’t!” Raven said, gesticulating with his wings. “I only found her by chance, when I was flying over the woods.”

“The woods?”

“Yes! If you give me a map I can show you exactly where I saw her.”

Alfur looked to the the door and then back to Raven, analyzing the situation. He decided, eventually, that it was only fair for the girls to be there when his friend revealed Myra’s location.

“Come inside.” He said then. “You should show it to them first. And we could probably get some ice for your head as well.”

He was about to lead him inside when he realized Raven wouldn’t fit the gap. Luckily, he saw the problem and opened his wings, flying just high enough to land on the handle. It opened easily under his weight, and the door swung open to allow them inside.

As Raven hopped back down to Alfur’s side, they saw Maven’s eyebrows fly towards her hairline at the unexpected situation, at the same time that Hilda gasped Raven’s name.

“You know it?” Maven asked upon noticing Hilda’s reaction.

“Oh, Hilda and I are friends, ma’am.” At the answer, Maven smiled with amusement. She was beginning to see a pattern in her apprentice’s friends.

“I take it you’re a Thunderbird?”

“There’s no time for introductions at this moment!” Alfur interrupted, though his words were more anxious than rude. “Miss Maven, Raven knows where your sister is!”

#fic: family fights #my fic #the hilda librarian #hilda librarian fanfic #hilda fanfic #hilda the series fanfic

[elliemarchetti]

What if scenarios for red queen: What if Shade lived? What if Elara had survived? What if Maven had a kid with Iris? What if Cal had said no in king's cage? What if Montfort was involved with the scarlet guard before the events of red queen? What if Mare accepted Montfort's offer in glass sword? What if Mare wasn't captured by Maven? What if Maven survived? What if Tiberias Vl died before the events of red queen? What if Mare didn't fall into the arena? What if indeed.

Once I wrote a story called What If (you can find it in my old masterlist but I suggest not to read it  or do it lightly because my writing style and my english improved a lot since when I wrote it and I don’t really remember if it made sense) but unfortunately it doesn’t answer any of your questions as I have been  struck at chapter 4 for years so I will address your questions in a sort of bullet list that I couldn't wait to use (even if it doesn't seem to I love when things are well ordered).

What if Shade lived

Shade was a valuable asset for the Scarlet Guard, maybe the most valuable they had, and as it happened to George Martin with Robb Stark (as he said in an interview, he had to kill him off otherwise he would’ve conquered the Seven Kingdoms without all the drama that whoever read ASOIAF or watched GOT knows very well) Victoria Aveyard had to do the same, otherwise things would’ve been “too simple” for the good guys. His death shocked Mare and the readers very much, but I consider it extremely wasted as: 

we already knew how Mare mourned and missed him since she believed he was dead in RQ

although he remained her favorite their relationship had still changed, showing how even if two people love each other and are incredibly similar they can grow and take different paths even if in the same family

she was already scarred by other things and at the end of the series she would’ve been way more even without his death

Farley lost again someone she loved and we already know that her reaction to pain is anger.

To balance these points, and still leave the same psychological outcome in the characters, I think it would’ve made more sense if:

one of Mare's older brothers had died, leaving her wondering how things would’ve changed if she had prevented them from fighting as they’re Reds in a war full of people with abilities and leaving the Barrow’s still incomplete but with a different loss to manage 

the Colonel had died, leaving Farley to wonder if she couldn’t have fixed things before his premature departure and what would’ve changed with Clara’s birth (not to mention the fact that I like to imagine that after Clara they would’ve had another girl called Madeline and, after several years and long debates in Diana’s mind, a boy called Willis)

Either way, by analyzing more pratically what would’ve changed if Shade hadn't died, the first thing that comes to my mind is that Mare’s captivity in KC would’ve been way shorter, partly because of Shade's ability, partly because he and Cal would’ve come up with a plan in less than ten minutes and acting on their own, with Farley and Kilorn’s help, they would’ve rescued her. In general, KC and WS’s events would’ve taken much less time, to the point that I think they could’ve been a single book.

What if Elara had survived and what if Maven had a kid with Iris

There are two different options to this question: Elara survives and returns to the role she had in GS or she’s captured by the Scalet Guard. With Elara to force her son's hand, and, let's face it, reign in his place, as she has always been a puppeteer, her whispers the threads she used to move her puppets, Maven’s reign would’ve been much more dangerous. First of all, I don't think she would’ve ever allowed her son to publicly offend the Samos, with the possibility that they would turn against them, but she would’ve created another complex scheme to kill Evangeline by putting the blame on the Scarlet Guard or on Cal's allies, for then team up with the Cygnets anyway, although I think the alliance would’ve been far less shaky with her to manage it and Iris would’ve been the condescending queen necessary to allow Maven to have the heir who would’ve made his position on the throne safer. Knowing her thirst for power she would still have sinned of arrogance and once Cenra died she would’ve attacked Tiora, obviously always in a subtle way and by putting the blame on someone else, so that Maven's son would become heir to Norta and the Lakelands, creating a single, large state. Without Elara's whispers if Maven and Iris had had a child it would have been through an act that bordered on rape, and once things had gone as they went in WS I'm not sure Iris would’ve brought the baby with her in the Lakelands therefore he would’ve ended up exiled, as it happened in the past with children in uncomfortable positions, in Prairie. On the other hand, if Elara had survived but had been captured by the Scarlet Guard, she would’ve died anyway as I don't think that, although those closest to the Mare would’ve proposed it, an exchange would’ve ever been made between them, Command too conscious of her political power and of the danger that the woman's ability entailed.

What if Cal had said no in KC

Assuming you are talking about rejecting the crown, surely there would’ve been less romantic drama in WS, at least until Maven's death, but things would’ve been politically much more difficult since, if Cal had abdicated before his brother's death, Maven would’ve been the actual heir and it wouldn’t have helped anyone, so he should’ve accepted the crown anyway to convince the Silvers to join the cause and at the same time make Maven illegitimate while only a limited circle should’ve known that his effective intent was to abdicate once the kingdom was reunited, perhaps with a lot of signed documents as I can't imagine the Scarlet Guard base the outcome of the war on another Silver prince’s word after Maven’s betrayal. But if he had actually refused they would’ve had to fight not Maven’s kingdom but monarchy in general, therefore losing the support of many Silver, although I am convinced that they would still have been able to win, although probably with many more dead, thanks to the help from Montfort and a couple of allies convinced that Cal's decision was wise, probably the Lower Houses and common Silvers who would’ve benefited from the abolition of the monarchy and racial laws

What if Montfort was involved with the SG before RQ’s events

It would make complete sense because the SG’s purpose is to obtain a government like Montfort’s. Obviously, even in this case, things would’ve been much faster and much safer and the saga would’ve been much shorter, not to mention the fact that newbloods are not new there and therefore the SG could’ve started talking about Reds with abilities much earlier, which would’ve given Norta’s Red population much more courage.

What if Mare accepted Montfort's offer in GS

In hindsight, it would’ve made sense as they would’ve attacked Corros prison much better prepared, not to mention the fact that Mare is a wonderful trainer, so she would’ve had the best team ever. Also the electricon squad really has too little space in the saga while I would’ve liked to see them bond further.

What if Mare wasn't captured by Maven

Again there are several options: if Maven had captured the others but Mare had managed to escape she would still have tried to negotiate for that exchange, once she realized she had no other way to save them, while if he killed all of them the entire outcome of the war would’ve been different since Cal would’ve died leaving Maven as the rightful king, not to mention the profound psychological damage Mare would’ve faced after she left most of her friends, family and her boyfriend to die. The last option is that they weren’t intercepted at all and managed to get to the Choke, but the possible outcomes are too many to be analyzed and the various results would’ve incredibly modified the subsequent books in completely different ways. Honestly, if I can dream and not force Mare to endure captivity, I would’ve liked if she and others had managed to escape but someone, including a person she cared about but not Cal, since this would’ve made things more difficult, had been captured. Maven would try to organize some kind of exchange and Mare would accept but all the others would prevent her, showing her that she wasn’t selfish to save herself and reminding her that she isn’t only a weapon but also a powerful political pawn. Obviously Maven, keeping his word, would’ve killed the hostages and this would’ve hurt Mare but certainly less than being imprisoned at his mercy.

What if Maven survived

I think that @elane-in-the-shadows has written something about it and I recommend you take a look at her blog because I think it's exactly how things should’ve gone but if I'm wrong about the author and someone knows what fanfiction I'm talking about (where Maven escapes before Mare could find him) feel free to let me know and I’ll add the link here because it’s a masterpiece

What if Tiberias Vl died before RQ

If he died of natural causes just before RQ Cal would’ve been king and would’ve listened to what Julian claimed Elara did, and he would probably have read his mother's diary before, consequently exlingin her or killing her if he considered it the only possible option to please everyone without certainly considering that Maven could’ve acted against him as, and it’s stated repeated several times, Cal is definitely blind about his brother therefore the saga would’ve been mainly about Maven who wants revenge and consequently the throne for which his mother had fought so much and performed such horrible acts. I can already imagine Maven saying he can marry Evangeline in Cal’s place so that he can stay with Mare when he’s just plotting with Volo Samos for the Kingdom of the Rift to split from the rest of Norta and then launches a consequent attack to conquer it entirely, promising peace between their kingdoms and a legitimate throne for House Samos. If Tiberias VI died instead shortly after Maven’s birth Elara would’ve tried to control Cal as she did with Maven but according to the bloodline the regent would’ve been Julian, therefore it wouldn’t have ended well for her anyway, which is why I consider that the plan devised in RQ tremendously brilliant since it contemplates years of waiting but strikes at the right time, so much so that many High House believed the story woven by her and supported her son, at least as long as she was there to control him and make him seem less insane.

What if Mare didn't fall into the arena

If we want a similar story she could’ve shown her ability when she and Cal first met and they could’ve tried to analyze and understand it with Julian without Mare having to be Mareena and meet Maven, which, in the long run, could’ve only benefit her and at the same time she and Cal could still have fallen in love while she still had the opportunity to help the Scarlet Guard, while if the question you ask me is "what would have happened if Mare had become a maid anyway and had never shown her powers, or at least not immediately" I think she and Cal would’ve had a clandestine relationship and she would’ve used it to learn as many things as possible to report to the Scarlet Guard until a life or death situation would’ve triggered her ability, making historical events not very different from those of the saga but erasing Maven's interest in her if not as a weapon to weaken his brother.

#ask #red queen #glass sword #king's cage #war storm #broken throne #shade barrow #elara merandus #maven calore #iris cygnet #cal calore #mare barrow #tiberias vi calore #diana farley #bree barrow #tramy barrow #willis farley #clara farley-barrow #madeline farley-barrow #willis farley-barrow #kilorn warren #evangeline samos #cenra cygnet #tiora cygnet #julian jacos #volo samos #mareena titanos #marecal #mareven #fade

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse: Final Chapter

Find this on wattpad and on ao3

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

A/N: Thanks to all who made it to this point. You’re awesome for bearing with me, my silly ideas and my writing for a year. Love you^^

Trigger warning: self harm

Maven POV

I’m drowning in dullness. I’d like to say fighting it is the hardest part but the more it overwhelms me, the more I fight myself instead. It’s the easiest occupation since I’ve been doing that for too long, likely my whole life. Scratching my skin? Done. Ripping my cubicles? Done. Chewing off my fingernails? Done. My newest focus is on the measly beard under my chin, certainly no fashionably full beard, but present enough to be a major nuisance if left untended. Which it is, so I tug at the hairs all the time, sometimes successfully tearing out a few. It can’t look pretty, of course, but I have no mirror no see myself. That’s the problem. Cal’s allowed me an electrical shaver, finally convinced it would’ve no razors to cut myself with, but a mirror is still off-limits. So he took the offer of the shaver back. Oh, great. Instead he shaves me himself on the days he visits me, by my request. It doesn’t make him come more regularly.

To be honest, I hate the way he’s taken it away from me, the possibility to maintain my appearance. It’d mean nothing for anyone to see me here but it’d mean something to me. Yet I receive only the most basic things, as long as they can’t hurt me. In Cal’s perception. What does he know of the ways I hurt myself? It’s ridiculous and delusional, but that’s how he is. He doesn’t want me to harm myself but the way locking me into a cell damages me is a just punishment?

Well, that’s one way of reasoning. I can understand it, in a certain regard. And don’t I deserve it? I don’t even have to live under silent stone as I had Mare do. I know how the stone pained and withered her away yet I either didn’t care or took rejoice in it. It makes her weak, then she needs me, I thought when in truth, I couldn’t bear to look at her half the time.

Now I hide from the world behind a broken frame. The frame is myself, as it is only reasonable to cage me in more than one layer. Yet I hold on to all I have in my little world as it’s my only buoy. It’s why Cal isn’t afraid of my fire. The cell is fireproof, and I won’t destroy my bed, books, clothes or table. Mother had never let me transfer my anger on things, never allowed me to show. It happened still, on occasion, and I still remember her chastisements afterwards, for that and for every other failing.

I cannot not notice the irregularity of Cal’s visits. He likes to bring me breakfast, sometimes he stays for dinner – if I can call it such – in the evenings. Sometimes he doesn’t come for days and I fight the urge to talk to the attendants instead, aware it’d be no joy for them, certainly believing only lies and conspiracies leave my mouth or expecting my frustration to lash out against them. But deep down, I know pride keeps me from interacting with them, the humiliation of having no one to talk to but mere employees who revile me and have no other choice.

Then again, when they leave after bringing whatever I’ve needed and am granted to receive, while I’ve avoided looking at them, I feel ashamed for behaving that way. What was Thomas if not a “mere employee” and yet so much more?

I have too much time at hand, too much time to consider every little choice of mine. First Mother “spared” me such contemplations, then the duties of a king shoved them far away. Now, I suppose, it’s my punishment to spend time with myself. Until Cal arrives in my cell, forcing a smile and talking of all and nothing while setting up the board to play our game.

He remains all I have and that makes me afraid. I can’t deal with that. I never could, and I’ll only drag him into an abyss with me.

Our conversations, including his reports from the outer world, are so casual, you wouldn’t realize we were involved in them, as if lessening our current influence would also affect our former one. It’s so like him, and cute actually. Maybe he thinks it’s easier for me this way since I, in my prison, can’t change anything. Maybe he doesn’t grasp the concept of punishment by captivity after all, though. But it’s new to all of us. He hasn’t spoken a meaningful word to me since he saw me again, just waking from unconsciousness after Iris knocked him out. He was shocked I didn’t killed him, when I was broken down myself, clasped to tightly in my defeat to act. He was thankful for my mercy, believing he found his little brother again. Now it’s only a matter of time until he rues his mercy bitterly.

Today, he shifts in his chair and hesitates to moves his knight until he finally decides on a bad tactic. He’s obvious to read as he frets over how to approach the news he intends to relay to me this time.

I remember a day in spring, when he appeared with his face frozen and hurt and guilt inscribed in his whole demeanour. No, resignation. Based on the feeble joy he’d displayed the days before, I made an educated guess. “Has Mare left you for good now?” I asked and immediately, I knew I was right. Yet I felt no satisfaction, nor residues of envy. Only a hole in my chest, a surge of the same void threatening to swallow me in every moment I can’t avoid to think of it.

“You should’ve treated her better, Cal,” I said.

He scoffed, still wallowing in his own pain. “Strange to hear that from you.”

“Strange it takes me to say that,” I replied.

He lowered his head and turned away yet didn’t leave as I thought he would. I regretted my former words, expecting him to finally show his anger, his hate, towards me. I knew he had to restrain and hide it to do all this for me. To just interact with me. Instead, he laughed out of a sudden. “Believe me Maven, I’ve heard enough of that. Still, I should’ve listened. Much earlier.”

And the following weeks, I could watch him work through this final breakup while he never mentioned Mare again. The frequency of his visits decreased, likely because he preferred a different kind of occupation in Harbor Bay than me, who’s just another reminder of pain.

“Just say what bothers you,” I urge him in the playful manner I’ve perfected. I can’t stop myself from guessing although with my scarce supply of news, it’s a hopeless endeavour. But it’s the thing Mother was most insistent I learned, how to anticipate both people and politics.

He stares at me and I don’t miss the extra dose of pity in his eyes. Then he clears his throat and rolls his shoulders. “The Lakelander Queen has allied with the Scarlet Guard,” he says. “Thanks to Mare and your lovely wife.”

I’m glad I didn’t take a sip from my tea as I would’ve certainly choked on it. Instead I tighten my hold on the cup while my other hand claws into the flesh on my leg. But my fingernails are too short to cause distracting, relieving pain. “So,” I say. “You’ve heard of her?”

He nods. Apparently he notices my irritation. But he doesn’t try to read me as intently as I observe him, searching for any clues. He seems confused, uncomfortable and compassionate, yet not nearly as overwhelmed as he’d be if he knew. I take a breath of relief, only to wonder why he should even show a strong reaction if he knew all this time.

“See, Iris Cygnet contacted me and asked about you and I confirmed your … location,” he says. “And then she sent me this.” He produces a stack of papers and hands it to me.

“Those are forms for a divorce,” he explains. But I’ve figured already. “Well, I’ll leave it here for you to read,” he adds. “I think you’re versed in such legal matters.” He smiles weakly, glad I don’t freak out over the loss of my wife, glad not to be involved in the relationship of Iris and me. He quickly evades my gaze and focuses back on the board as if the forms had no meaning at all.

“No.”

He jerks up, surprised by my firm tone. I pass the papers back to him. “I won’t sign this. If Iris wants something from me, she shall come in person.”

“Maven … “

“I admit this won’t be pleasant for either of us but I insist.”

He clears his throat once more. “I don’t know. There’s this travel planned for us in two weeks – “

“You’re telling me this now?!” I exlaim. “What does this travel mean, Cal?” A travel, planned for me, can only mean my location is known and has to be changed. A change of location means danger. Death. And Iris? Likely wanting a divorce to cleave herself free of me for good, before she’s remembered as the widow of a murderous usurper and not as the Queen of Peace –

“Hey.” Cal bends forward and grabs my shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention the travel earlier but we have to go. Don’t worry too much, please.” He seems so concerned, so full of … affection. And I deserve nothing of that.

I cover his hand with mine and squeeze. “Please arrange her visit,” I say quietly, “I need that, Cal. If she bothers to come, I’ll know that …” I swallow and he’s about to speak again. But I continue. “So I know I won’t die the next day.” I smile cynically, as I’ve trained.

He doesn’t return the smile, stays earnest as always. “You’re the only one who still calls me ‘Cal’,” he says.

I want to meet Iris again. Iris betrayed me. Iris understands me. Iris doesn’t care one bit about me. Iris is just like Cal.

I was envious of her from the moment we exchanged our first words and I didn’t even know why. That conclusion came later, but it’s obvious nonetheless. She’s perfect, how a princess should be. Strong, loved by her family and her country, friendly, devoted, capable, beautiful. I liked spending time with her, even though she reminded me of Cal. Rather I imagined what could’ve been if Mother never ... but no. There was never a pure moment in my life and the Maven that interacted with Iris was just as fake. She was, too. The closer we came, the more I mistrusted her, and wasn’t I right? The day of the attack on Archeon arrived, and she was ready to watch the sentinel she loves kill me.

It could never have worked. The only one who loved me for myself was Thomas and I can’t say I ever really confided in him, as I was busy mending the broken piece of my life before I could present them to him. Cal only cares about his duty to and his image of a brother I’ll never be. Mare I used until I couldn’t decide between dragging her with me like a doll and throwing her away like a rag. I’m not made for love, but to be its antithesis. Mother should be proud of that success.

Cal said it’s two weeks until we have to move and I count every hour of them that brings me closer to my death. Distractions stop to help and it doesn’t take long until my bad habits consume all my time, starting with bleeding fingers and grey scratches on my skin. Cal sees the need to remove more of my things when he thinks I’m not looking but I notice anyway, as patrolling my room is my one other hobby.

It lasts for nine days and 15 hours but at least I made them feel endlessly. What a success, I congratulate myself, I truly make the best of my last days by agonizing. But then it comes, the sound of the unlocking door at an unusual time. I get up, spin around and straighten my posture, once more cursing inwardly at my undignified appearance. How can you seem majestic in fatigues? I wish my executioner will grant me an appropriate outfit to die in, knowing it’s too much to hope for. I smirk, not too extreme in case Cal is with them, but only one person enters. Of course, she of all people doesn’t need back up to face me.

“Dear Iris,” I greet her.

“Good morning, Maven,” she replies. “You’ve asked for me?”

“I’m so glad – honoured – that you’re heeding my request. May I congratulate?”

She raises her eyebrows.

“On your victory, Iris,” I clarify. But she remains a little tenser than before. She moves to the table and looks at me, so I can invite her to sit.

“Can we stop this roleplaying now?” she asks after we’ve taken out seats. “Do you agree to the divorce or not?”

“Do you have an idea how relieved I am you actually came?” I say, again, much more serious.

“Are you?”

“Yes. So you can tell me the truth.” She looks flustered but not surprised. “Iris, that you make efforts to get this done shows me that I can hope my life will last longer than a week.”

“I suppose so.”

“You don’t know more?” I inquire.

She shakes her head. “That depends – “

“Ah.” I stretch my arms. “However, if you want me to sign, I wish for something in return.”

“What is it?”

“The truth, as I said.”

She bites her lip. “Why do you need to know?”

“Don’t I need to know because it won’t matter since I die in a month, a week?” I counter. “How about your friend Sentinel Griffey, does she still serve you?”

She cackles. “Oh, she does, in a way. What a good sense for transitions you have, Maven.”

“Excuse me?”

“I did what I had to. That was the only option open to me, one according to my honour.”

I incline my head, waiting.

“He will never wear a crown and get a mark on his back in return, like we do. Do you understand me?”

I nod, the pen in my hand resting over the paper. He. She stares at me, expectantly, but I hesitate.

“His name is Arthur,” she concedes.

I swallow. It’s clear she won’t give more away, no matter how long I wait. I sign. “So we are divorced people now?” I smile.

She shakes her head ever so slightly. “As if. But our royal days are over, and our words no longer become law. No, this needs an official’s stamp to become legal.”

“How complicated.”

“How reasonable.” She takes the forms and we rise. “Farewell, Maven,” she says, “make the best of it.”

I’ve sunk onto my bed, my face buried in my hands, shutting my eyes from the light. I don’t know what to make if this. I need to think. I knew, didn’t I? But I accepted the uncertainty eagerly as I’ve never been able to grasp the meaning of a child. Iris does, of course, but still I’m clueless and likely, no one will ever care if I stay that way, besides myself –

Steps, loudly. I lift my head, wipe my face, search for the right mask to wear –

And freeze.

“Are you afraid to look at me?” Mare says, her voice full of impatience, disgust, and stress. She looks like a queen, as much as Iris.

I swallow, clear my throat, stretch my fingers, just to let her wait while I gather myself. Has she heard Iris and me? Is she the reason Iris was so hesitant with information? I don’t want her to know, too. Arthur’s not hers to worry about, even if he might not be for me either.

I meet her eyes and smirk. “I don’t have time for you.”

The corners of her mouth twitch, her arms crossed over her chest in self-confidence. “So? Then I won’t waste my time with you again.” Yet she doesn’t just leave. She came here on her own accords, although she might even not know what she wants with me.

“Is this a congregation of my former betrotheds?” I wonder aloud. “Is Evangeline here too?” I look around with affectation.

“No. She’s gained the uncanny ability to appear and disappear at will, like her girlfriend.” She grins weakly. “Last thing I heard, she melted down her collection of crowns and abdicated as Queen of the Rift. So did Iris. And Tiberias.”

I raise an eyebrow at the name. She doesn’t react. “Oh Mare” I say, “you’re such a welcome source of small talk already. You always make good company.”

She takes a step forward in anger. “Yes,” she hisses. “It was unfortunate you were the best entertainment I had while I was in your cage, too.”

I stop smiling. My eyes stay on her. “I shouldn’t have done that. I apologize.”

She scoffs. “You expect that means anything to me?”

“No. But I thought I should say that.”

It makes her cackle. “You ‘thought’, like you don’t know? Oh Maven. Still no part of you is real, is it?”

I flinch, look away. She turns aside. “There’s a trial to come,” she says eventually. “A series of trials.”

“Naturally. A trial just for me would be pointless.”

Her head spins to me in annoyance. “Stop lying, Maven. Or is that too much to ask?”

I chuckle and sigh. “Will you leave now?” I want her to leave. She isn’t good for me, she’s dangerous. She wakes things in my heart that better stay buried and will only hurt both of us, once risen. Beautiful and cruel things, both too extreme for me to maintain my inkling of sanity.

But she only comes closer, reaching out with her hand, setting it on my head and pushing me backwards so I fall on my elbows.

“You don’t have power over me,” she mumbles, getting louder with every word. “You never really had, it was all given to you, no matter none of it was fair.” Her voice is like distant thunder. “That’s why I came here, to tell you that.”

Determination burns in her eyes and in a way, it belies her words. This visit has cost her, and continues to do, maybe for the rest of her life. She had time to prepare for this day, must’ve known long enough about me. Yet she needed every moment of this preparation. Scars don’t vanish from your soul, I know that very well.

Her palm on my brow heats and sizzles, sparks fly by. “Nobody stopped me from entering,” she says. “Despite the planned-for trials. So, do you think anyone cares about what happens to you?”

Cal does, I think. But I remember what he told me, how Mare called him Tiberias. I won’t use him to save myself. I can’t need to. I put my palm on her thigh and summon the fire within me, a flame that went cold for so long that she doesn’t notice immediately, while her electricity continues to crackle over my skin.

She jumps back. “How dare you!” she screams. Her hand goes to her chest, involuntarily, to the place I burned before. Her sight scares me, shames me more than her threat of murder. Nothing is left of the innocence she had when I saw her for the first time. I took it from her. And Mother. Even Cal. And the whole world we live in.

Breathing heavily, she calms herself, staying ready for another charge. I let her. Look down. I don’t move, don’t call an alert, or try for another fire. “If you want to kill me,” I say, “go ahead. But don’t expect me not to defend myself.”

When I look up, her demeanour has relaxed. Although she’s still a warrior. “So you want to live?” she states.

I shrug. “I don’t ask for pity or mercy, but no matter how miserable this is, it is a life.”

At first, I don’t think she deigns to answer. Maybe she’ll come another time, maybe she’ll execute me herself once the trial produced a sentence. Until then, I’ll have something to fear for.

She stops on the threshold. “Once I thought I was born to destroy you,” she says. “But that was wrong to assume. My life is so much more than that. And while you wait out your miserable fate, Maven Calore, you better remember one thing in particular: You lost.

“And we have won.”

Fin

@clarafarleybarrow  @mareshmallow @redqueenfandom @lilyharvord @inopinion @wrenskonos @runexandra @hannaharies @samanthaslytherin @redqueenforever @selenbean-beany @kihlorn @scarletguardsource @mareenattitanos @artbooks-trash @marecalrandomstuff @maremollytitanos

#red queen #red queen fanfiction #war storm #maven calore #cal calore #calore brothers #mare barrow #iris cygnet #war storm fan fiction #blood curse #blood curse ch 30 #blood curse final chapter #scarletguardsource

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

What are we willing to cancel people over, anyway?

Beautube continues to be the messy hellscape that it is, but the feud that went down between two major YouTubers just goes to show that nobody is above drama. Still, James Charles has a history of problematic behavior — why did it take until now for the community to cancel him? 

YouTube's beauty community was shaken on Friday when Tati Westbrook dropped a 43-minute video exposing her longtime friend and mentee James Charles. Among other reprehensible behavior, Tati also denounced his habit of allegedly sexually harassing straight men. 

The takedown followed weeks of rumors, screenshots, and snarky reaction videos from other vloggers, so it wasn't new, but it was the catalyst that has other influencers distancing themselves from the teenage makeup guru. 

If you're unfamiliar with the wild world of beauty YouTube, here's a rundown of all the people involved. 

James Charles is a 19-year-old beauty maven who went viral in 2016 for not only wearing makeup in his senior photos, but also being extra enough to bring a ring light to emphasize his highlighter. Later that year, he became the first male spokesperson for CoverGirl. Since then, he's amassed an immense social media following — at its peak, he had 15 million subscribers on YouTube. 

Charles' nearly overnight fame reached a climax usually reserved for traditional celebrities, not influencers, when he was invited to the Met Gala earlier in May. He raised eyebrows when he called the invitation "a step forward in the right direction for influencer representation in the media" in an Instagram post.

But after his rapid ascent to stardom, Charles is now crashing back down. He's been cancelled.

So I retook my senior photos & brought my ring light with me so my highlight would be poppin. I love being extra 💀 pic.twitter.com/7Qu1yu8U2P

— James Charles (@jamescharles) September 5, 2016

SEE ALSO: Men's makeup brands are discreet — and all over Instagram

Tati Westbrook is a 37-year-old makeup YouTuber who also owns Halo Beauty, a supplement company that sells gummy vitamins for strengthening hair and nails. Her direct competitor is Sugar Bear Hair, a similar company whose products have been endorsed by a variety of influencers, including the Kardashian-Jenner clan. 

Tati has been "like a mother" to James, according to James himself. She took the budding star under her wing when his career was just kicking off — and he even did her wedding makeup. 

Keeping up? Good, because this is where it gets messy. 

On April 22, James posted an endorsement for Sugar Bear Hair on his Instagram story after the company supposedly helped him with a security issue during Coachella. Without naming names, Tati said she felt "lost" and "betrayed" on her Instagram story. 

"When you do so much for people in your life and they not only don't return the favor, but they just don't even see you," Tati said in her tearful video. "I feel really used." 

James publicly apologized in similarly teary Instagram story the next day, and told his followers that he "did not think about the competition."

"She has been like a mother to me since my first days in this industry," he said in his public apology, adding that he didn't accept any money for the post and that he uses Tati's vitamin brand daily. "And has given me more love, support, resources, and advice than I could ever ask for."

Fellow makeup YouTuber Gabriel Zamora — who you might remember from the YouTube apology fiasco in summer 2018 known as Dramageddon — weighed in on the situation. In a video posted on May 4, he chided Tati for her immature reaction. 

"All these videos are being made where James is being made out to be this horrible human being and I'm just confused as to what happened," Gabriel said.

In response, Tati posted a video on Friday titled "BYE SISTER," a play on James' signature vlog intro, "Hi sisters!" The lengthy video dives into why Tati felt unappreciated by James, from his hesitation to promote her brand to his reluctance to collaborate with her. She publicly severed ties with him, concluding that it was "painful to lose someone you care about, that you thought would be in your life forever, but the chapter's closed."

Since dropping the video, Tati has been rapidly gaining followers as James loses them. Twitter users and other influencers paid attention.

drama aside, i have something to say.... ❤️https://t.co/Hn20TgNSzM❤️ pic.twitter.com/vRPFCTJIEJ

— Shane Dawson (@shanedawson) May 12, 2019

Image: Twitter Screenshot/Jefree Star

As of Monday morning, James has lost more than 2.5 million subscribers in three days, according to SocialBlade. Tati, meanwhile, gained more than 2.9 million since posting the video. To put that into perspective, as vlogger Callum Markie noted, Logan Paul gained 80,000 subscribers after filming a victim of suicide in Japan. 

But the backlash isn't just over snubbing a friend — it's over a much more concerning issue. Although the majority of the video was about her personal relationship with James, it also shed light on his toxic habit of allegedly sexually harassing straight men. 

"Oh my god, you tried to trick a straight man into thinking he's gay yet again," Tati ranted in her video, recalling a phone conversation she recently had with James. "And somehow, you're the victim." 

She continued:

Tati was alluding to just one of many instances where James toyed with straight men. The receipts channel Spill laid out several examples, including his questionable relationship with model Gage Gomez. In April, Gomez posted a video calling James out for continuing to pursue him despite repeatedly turning him down. 

"[He] pushed his emotions onto me to guilt me into trying something that I didn't want to do," the model said. 

James has also publicly hit on Shawn Mendes, leaving suggestive comments on the singer's Instagram live videos and tweets. 

He later apologized in a tweet, and said he was "sorry if he [Shawn] felt sexually harassed."

After Tati's video, others came forward. Someone who claimed to be a former classmate tweeted that James allegedly sexually assaulted her friend. Singer Zara Larsson also tweeted that James repeatedly hit on her boyfriend, despite knowing that he's straight. And in a supercut of James' vlogs, a Twitter user showed the numerous times the beauty guru admitted he enjoyed pursuing heterosexual men because "it's easier than you think."

It's about time James Charles stopped getting a pass for his repeatedly toxic behavior. But why did it take a video from Tati for the internet to finally cancel him? Twitter user @Quantum_King_ questioned why Tati protected James for years, despite public knowledge that he harassed men both in person and on social media. 

Did Tati Westbrook expose a predator or did she harbour a predator until she felt under appreciated by him?

— Brokeryn Martell 🇱🇨🇯🇲 (@Quantum_King_) May 11, 2019

If James Charles would’ve promoted tati’s vitamins, do y’all think she still would’ve made that video exposing him for being trash? Let’s discuss

— femme fatale (@eliesaaab) May 12, 2019

And others pointed out how hypocritical it was for Jeffree Star, another member of the YouTube beauty community, to speak out against James despite his own problematic past. (Star has since deleted his tweet, but there is a screenshot included above.)

seeing my mutuals dragging james charles while simultaneously supporting jeffree star and it’s interesting pic.twitter.com/TJHlxo2tkv

— 𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖜𝖌 (@tamiamakay) May 12, 2019

Is James Charles being canceled because of his actions, or because the internet loves drama? It's been nearly a year since Dramageddon tore Beautube apart, exposing multiple YouTubers for their racist tweets. 

Somehow, James' own racist remarks weren't pulled into the whirlwind of cancellation. When he made a transphobic comment earlier in 2019 about how he wasn't "full gay" because he had been attracted to trans men, he received some backlash but got away relatively unscathed. Why is it Tati's video that's tanking his career? 

Maybe it's because the internet is willing to give a pass to its faves, until it's time to grab some popcorn and watch a feud go down. It's good that the internet is finally done with James — the face of the beauty community absolutely should not be a predator. But nobody paid attention or sought to hold him accountable until there was a friendship break up involved. 

The influencers at the center of Dramageddon have more or less recovered from 2018's Beautube culling. Gabriel Zamora continues to make videos. Nikita Dragun was just profiled in Forbes. Manny MUA is still releasing products from his makeup line, Lunar Beauty. Even Laura Lee, whose iconically terrible apology video fueled Twitter memes for weeks, seems fine according to Instagram. 

Will James Charles' cancellation last, or will the internet accept him into the fold again like it did with Jeffree Star? Despite his many controversies, Star is a multimillionaire thriving on top of a massive beauty empire.  

"A lot of most of my career over the last two years has been about me making mistakes and trying to learn and grow from them," James stated in his apology video posted Friday. "And I haven't always done the best job of that. I can admit that, but I have always tried ... I wish I could say this is the last time that I make a mistake, but it won't be." 

And as his beauty vlogger predecessors have proven, he's at least right about that. Will he stay canceled? Hopefully. Will more makeup-centered drama go down in the near future and take down more racist, transphobic predators? God, we hope so. 

WATCH: 'Avengers: Endgame' is the most tweeted-about movie ever

#_author:Morgan Sung #_category:yct:001000002 #_lmsid:a0Vd000000DTrEpEAL #_uuid:6bc0f913-4c65-31cf-a25e-1faa0342fe5d #_revsp:news.mashable

[s-blck]

Power

'Cause woah, you're squeezing my heart Too hard in your bare hands, they hold too tight And woah the air is on fire This room feels electric, caught here in your sights

Around the time after Maven has the deal with the Lakelanders, knowing before anyone else that he will marry Iris and Mare will be further for him than ever, both of them are too lonely and weak to be above their desperation. 

Word Count: 7k+  Pairing: Maven Calore x Mare Barrow Rating: M

Spoilers for everything up to the (roughly) first half of King’s Cage

The walls of my prison are so familiar, I could probably recount every little detail of the stone’s carving in my sleep – if I would sleep, that is. It's only a little past Maven’s and my shared breakfast, which was spent in utter silence today. Some days he doesn’t force a conversation, and in return I don’t spit venom in his wounds. It’s beneficial for the both of us.  

I don’t get informed about official gatherings until shortly before, but when a maid brings something to my Arvens, it is unexpected as ever. Especially because it is not one of the blood-red dresses Maven loves seeing me in. They usually await me on my bed after breakfast anyway, by now. Even Kitten is startled for a second, apparently not being informed about any scheduled changes either. She opens the door with wariness, but finds only a Red servant in front, that has not been stopped by either Egg or Trio. The Red girl is balancing a bottle and an elegantly shaped glass. Kitten puts it down on the table in the middle of the room, not bothering with dismissing the servant. Her face is giving away nothing as usual, but curiosity eventually gets the better of me. I don't like the fact that Clover and Kitten see me being curious in whatever Maven considers a gift - no doubt that he does, but my Arven guards are nothing if not relentless in their duty. If I want to know, I will have to find out under their unwavering gazes. I walk up to the table reluctantly, the Silent Stone manacles and sleep deprivation eating away at every fibre of my body, but I don't need to reach the table to see what they brought. Wine. And just the kind I like, if I ever liked any. I can't help but laugh. I don't know what his intention behind this is, but I certainly won't take a sip. My guards don't show any sign of reaction, and I can't read whether they know the motives behind this, but I don't care either. I've been meticulous not to drink whenever Maven parades me around, so I certainly won't do it now, in the solitude of my confinement. Wine never does any good unless I want to forget for a while. And as much as I do, the thought of loosing the little control I have in here is unbearable.

The hours pass, and nothing other than the maid bringing the wine happens. It's not unusual, the solitude of my prison is weighting down on me ever since Maven made me his pet. But I keep wondering what he’ll will do if I just refuse to touch it. I get my answer a few hours later, when dinner comes and goes, and the only thing changing is that they bring another bottle to add to the unopened one. I wait till the maid has taken the empty plates away, just to see whether my refusal will change anything. It was simply to kill the time and amuse myself a little in the monotony of my daily schedule. I already know that simply because I refuse Maven, he will not give up so easily. It’s not a surprise that the bottles stay there, looming at me, a painful reminder that Maven is somewhere watching and waiting. I would laugh, only I know that this is nothing to laugh about. I know that there are normal drinks - water - right in my bathroom, but I feel too proud to sneak in there only to drink. I won't let Maven push me into grovelling around. There's a tiny part of me - the part that I hate, the part that I know is in love, still, with the ghost prince I want to be somewhere in him - that feels sorry. A part that feels pity, because he's so convinced that he truly loves me, that my blatant hatred for him makes him this desperate. I refuse to be nice to him because all he deserves is my spite. I refuse to hold a conversation that doesn't consist of jabs, and every single verbal stab I know will rile him up or catch him off guard in some way. And I refused the one kiss he mustered up the courage to give me. Refused it even if it would've been beneficial for my cause, because he is the one person I can't bear to kiss. Because allowing him to kiss me would open the gates to every feeling I have ever harboured and still harbour for the ghost prince that isn't there anymore. For every feeling I’m working so hard to extinguish in any way I can. I repeat my mantra as I try to read one of Julian's books. I won't give in. It's no use. I've been staring at the same page for heaven knows how long, and I don't remember a single sentence. All my thoughts can focus on are those two damned bottles, demanding my attention, and Maven’s intention and desperation is speaking volumes through them. I don't want to pity him. I have not pitied him when he told me what Elara did to him, what she's still, even in her death, doing to him. But for some reason, when he's baring his heart in the most desperate way possible, and is not ashamed to tell me that he longs for me this much, I suddenly begin to pity him.

It's frustrating, that my Arvens probably can see my internal struggle. It would be a miracle if they don't; the longer I stare at the pages of the yellow book the more I feel drawn to giving in. I close the book with a frustrated pang - I know they are watching me, there's no use in being subtle. Both of them are women. They can act as emotionless as they want, they are fooling me as little as I am fooling them. I am still careful not to let my anger out in the only thing aside from Gisa's silk that still reminds me of my friends, of the people Maven has taken me from and taken from me. I wouldn't dare damaging them. The only person deserving of my anger is Maven and his child court.

I've been fighting with myself the whole day, and it's been dark outside for a long time. Maven has not come; no doubt he is waiting like a tiger stalking his prey. I'm not doing this for him. There's nothing I would do for him. I'm doing this for me, doing it because despite my iron resolve I have lost count of how many months I've been here, endured Evangeline and Ptolemus, Volo, and worst of all Samson, how many days and nights I have spent allowing tears to flow that I swore wouldn't.

I will not give up. I will not be the weak one of us. But just for tonight I decide that I don't care. As I walk up to the table, studying both of the etiquettes on the bottles, I hear a slight shuffle at the door. I knew they were waiting - hoping - for me to lose this fight, but somehow after a day this long I can't find it in me to care. I'd like to think that overall I have still won this silent fight between me and my Arvens no matter how much weakness I show tonight. I grab the sweeter of the two bottles, opening it. The wine smells intoxicating, and I know that if I give in, I will no doubt be drunk, especially after eating ridiculously little of my evening meal, and my body having become as thin and sickly as it has. Despite it I throw all care into the wind, foregoing the glass without a second glance. I've already decided defeat; I might as well do it properly. I sit down on my bed, decidedly not looking at either of my guards and only focusing on my bottle instead. The wine tastes sweet on my tongue, heavy and rich in its flavour. It's definitely good as far as wine goes, and it leaves a sour feeling in my stomach to know that Maven has perfect knowledge of my taste. It pushes me to take another swig right away, wanting to cover the sour taste of Maven's obsession with the sweet taste of the wine.

The first bottle is empty long after I feel the wine take into effect. I don't feel like I usually did. Back when I posed as Mareena Titanus the wine had a very uplifting effect on me. It helped me forget that I didn't belong in the court of Silvers, or at either of the prince's side, and instead made me revel in the feeling of either of their embrace. It made me enjoy the glances Maven stole at me even more. It made sink into the kissed indefinitely more, feeling every little taste on his lips as if I kissed him every day, not every other week. Now it makes me feel angry. It brings out my frustration about my inability to escape, my inability to find out Maven's weaknesses and use them, and most of all to erase the memory of the ghost prince from my heart and brain once and for all. The bottle has fallen off the bed and there's some wine-rest spilling on the floor. I don't care. It looks so dark it could pass as a pool of blood and the sight holds my attention. Despite the wrong colour it reminds me of Maven's blood spilling from his torn open throat. The sight twinges my heart, and I kick at the empty bottle in anger. It rolls over the floor with force, smashing against the opposite wall and into a thousand pieces. Apparently it was the action the Arvens needed to jump into action. It's not obvious but I've been waiting for it, so I catch the movement even from my drunk position on the bed. Kitten stays but Clover opens the door, allowing me to catch a glimpse at Egg and Trio. No one says anything but I see the smirk spread on Egg's face. I've never seen so much emotion on him and it makes me even more disgusted with myself to know that they anticipated this, and that they knew Maven would win eventually. Bracing myself for what's about to come - I'm not sure what, but I do have a rough idea - I lie back on the bed, covering my eyes from the light with my arm.

It doesn't take long until the door opens again. I don't need to look up to know that it's Maven. I recognize his controlled steps, and I knew he was waiting to rush here and dismiss the Arvens. I don't move to look at him. At first he doesn't come close either, but I do feel his presence near me, hovering, waiting. The silence weights down on me until I can't bear it anymore.

"You must be proud."

It's the first time I talk since breakfast, and my voice is raspy as usual. Only now it's also tinged with a slight lull thanks to the wine. He doesn't reply, he doesn't make a sound at all until I sit up with a sigh, allowing him yet another win. The sight of him hits me hard. I don't know whether it is because of the haze over my mind or because of the soft spot he still holds in my heart, but there is no ice in his eyes today and it says more than words. I would get up and walk over to him but I'm not quite there yet. Or probably never will be. He just looks at me for a while, and I hold his gaze. He does not answer but he doesn't need to. He's not proud. No matter how much he wants me to love him, and no matter how many times he forces his company one me, this is something he did not do with pride. He looks a lot worse to wear than he has this morning. He looks paler to me every morning, but tonight the dark circles under his eyes make the rest of his skin seem like that of a dead man. His eyes are soft but not out of love, but out of the weight that's apparently been crushed on him. I haven't heard of any news, but I'm aware it must've been something bad to shake him this much. He's too scheming, too much of a genius, to have something so unexpected happen, and whatever it was I know it must be something he had to do despite what he wants, and it’s put him in a bad place. He needs me. Not just like he usually needs my company, but he needs me emotionally in every way I grant him.

"Maven..."

I don't know where I'm going with this and I hate the fact that his name falls softly off my tongue tonight, but I can't help it. His face softens as soon as his name leaves my lips, not in a loving way but in the way a drowning man claws at his life saving source. He stumbles over, falling more into the bed than sinking down. I don't move, don't offer him comfort, no matter how much a part of me longs to run my fingers through his dark, wild, locks, sorting them a little and giving him the comfort he craves. I don't need to move though. He's never been one to look for approval, and tonight is no different. I'm still sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall in my simple white dress, and he puts his head in my lap as if it is the most natural thing to do. I don't react, stilling under him, but he doesn't seem to be disturbed by it. He pats around the bed behind him, until his hand falls on mine. I draw back on instinct but he grabs a tighter hold, not letting me move away. He forces my hand to his head, and I don't need him to say anything to bury my fingers in his soft locks like I wanted to anyway. The question burns on my tongue, and the wine has loosened me enough not to hold back.

"What happened?"

He snorts, an irritating contrast to the pained look on his face. "You think it has something to do with your Scarlet Guard friends or my brother?” He spits the word as ever, but it lacks venom – and any sufficient information. He seems too exhausted to have real spite in him.

"I think, that whatever happened made you force me to get drunk just so you could get some comfort from the one person you refuse to accept that hates you."

"I didn't force you.", he sighs, sounding so exhausted.

"You're just lucky that I'd rather be drunk than hide in the bathroom so I don't dehydrate."

He turns his head in my lap, looking up at me. I hold his gaze, like I always do, and a tiny smile creeps on his face. It takes me by surprise, and I catch myself smiling back at him before I can stop myself. I mentally curse that damned wine, but it's too late to take it back. And the warmth that fills his usually icy blue eyes is somehow worth it. It painfully reminds me of the prince I fell for, and I can't find it in myself to hate him right that moment. The hatred settles right back in when he reaches for strands of my hair, curling them between his fingers. He toys with them and I let him, glad that he's too occupied to talk to me, and content enough with being this close to not ask for anything more. His brows furrow when his eyes fall on the tips of my hair, the grey reaching up higher by the day. It's obvious that he doesn't like it, so naturally I suddenly feel a lot better about the way my hair is turning out. I try to ignore that my hand is still buried in his black locks as well, gently - way too gently - running my fingernails over the nape of his neck.

"I won't let you be hurt again.", he suddenly whispers, breaking the almost bearable silence we had settled on. I contemplate what to say for a moment. I shouldn't be affected by the words. I've heard them too many times. He's said them so much already, and while he may think he intends to keep them, and protect me from all harm, he couldn't be more wrong. His promises are just as poisoned as his obsessed love for me. And yet, I try to blame it on the wine that this time, they do get to me. This time, despite the fact that I could choke him with my bare hands in a heartbeat, and burning with him would be worth the price, I feel oddly fond about the fact that in his way, he is trying. I don't let it show though. It's enough to feel it.

"You're the one hurting me, Maven."

I try to spit it out, channelling all the venom that usually comes so easy in my voice. I'm not sure if it works, until he sits up abruptly, his legs on the bed, right next to mine. He's facing me, and I see the fire that is suddenly back in his eyes. I try to quench a tremble. I don't even know why I'm trembling. I'm hardly ever truly scared of Maven, he's hurt me in so many ways there is little he can do from here. I entertain the thought that I might be trembling because I've never come this close to see the prince I let myself like for a long while, but quickly discard it. It doesn't matter. This is his prison, just for me, and in here his rules are the only ones that count. What Maven wants, he gets.

"Am I truly so cruel?", he hisses. I want to say yes, because he is every part the monster I think he is. I want to slap him, for even questioning this after he brought so much pain. After he killed my brother. But this is still partly the Maven I know speaking to me. An angry, kingly version of him, but still a version too gentle, too hurt, too confused, to be the mad boy king. So I can't say yes to his face, and mentally slap him back into reality. Instead I settle on silence, my lips a firm line, challenging him to go on.

"You keep saying that I hurt you, that I hurt the people you love, but you never think before throwing another spiteful jab at me."

I am too dazed and taken aback to protest. He isn't right, of course. But he has never defended his actions quite so adamantly, and my brain works too sluggishly to disagree with him.

"I let your brothers go. I let my brother go, even though all he has done in his life is take from me."

Now I want to protest. I want to spit at him, and tell him how Cal has never taken from him, how Elara was pulling the strings that led to his misfortune, twisting her net in a way that makes everyone else seem at fault. But Maven is too fast for my hazy brain to form a full argument.

"He took our father's favour. He took my chance for the throne. He took the admiration, the glory, the adoring loyalty of half the high houses. He had all of that. But he had to go and take you too."

I can feel myself gape at him. He always complained about how Cal put him in the shadow, always going on about this unfair treatment. But he had never with the slightest words hinted at jealousy. He hadn't known the dynamic of Cal's and my relationship, if it ever was anything like that. I suddenly realize with a jolt that Samson knows. Samson's seen every small detail of the countless nights I spent at Cal's side. As good as all of them innocent, but I don't know how - what - he told Maven. I see the pure jealousy burning in his eyes, and now I am a little scared. Jealousy makes people do stupid things, and Maven looks like he is just about ready to burn down every last wall of Whitefire palace.

"Me and Cal never-"

I don't get to finish or defend myself. Maven is too riled up to hear me out. He grabs my chin, a lot gentler than I would've expected, forcing me to stay in place when he leans in. His skin doesn't touch mine except for his fingertips, but I feel the scorching heat all the same. He's furious.

"You were supposed to be my queen. But instead he took you away, leaving behind Evangeline."

I've never heard him say the name with so much disgust, and it makes my heart flutter.

"I see the accusation in your eyes every time her wretched brother is close, like I choose this."

I want to tell him he did, he chose it the second he betrayed Cal, betrayed us all, but I can't. I'm too elated by his words about House Samos, too scared, all of a sudden, that my guards will hear his treacherous words, and they will cost him their loyalty.

"I would've chosen you, Mare, would've chosen you over all of them any day. Instead you let Cal in your bed, let him be where my place should be."

His words, while they do ignite a fire of their own in me that I didn't know still existed, also help me fight through the alcohol induced haze. "You had me. But you didn't choose me over anything. Not over the crown." It i the truth and even in his vile idea of love he can see that. He doesn’t try to deny it. It doesn’t help. The second his lips crash on mine I shrink into myself. This is what I knew would happen, what I'd dreaded from the moment the first bottle of wine was put on my table. Once more, he doesn't care that I don't react. He holds my chin in his hand, still, his lips not leaving mine for half an eternity. When he finally breaks away, another kind of heat in his eyes, and his cheeks covered by the most delicious silver flush, I curse my own weakness. I might not have kissed him back, but I can’t deny that I wanted to.

"Every time I look at you, I'm being punished."

He's almost whispering, his lips close to brushing mine with every word. Usually I would lean away, but I'm too intrigued by what he has to say.

"Every morning you enter my chamber and I entertain the thought, just for a second, that you want to. That I made the right choice and instead of my brother, you love me."

There's no point in correcting him. There's no point in telling Maven that I don't only love his brother, that I still hate my own heart for not letting go of him. The pain in his eyes is almost crushing, so when he leans in again I can do nothing but let it happen. I hate it more with every passing second, but his lips are setting me on fire and for once it doesn't feel too hot, or too painful. It feels like it felt back when the world was still somewhat right and I thought I was going to marry the broken, hurt prince. The prince I would've willingly shared every kiss I had with. It's that thought that weights down on my heart the most, enough for me to stop pulling away with my whole body, almost giving him free reign instead. Despite his sick love Maven knows me. He's kissed me a few times too many to be a stranger to how my body reacts to his. So he can feel the slightest sign of approval. The soft moan leaving his lips almost makes me too weak to keep some control. I let go enough to let him press me back into the wall. He's towering over me, his black hair tickling my cheeks and brushing over the lashes of my closed eyes.  His hand slowly moves from my jaw when he can be sure I won't break the kiss. He buries his hand in my hair instead, and the soft graze of teeth on my lower lip makes me jump in surprise. I gasp, and he uses the surprise to slip his tongue into my mouth. This time it's my turn to moan, even just lightly but enough to make me hate myself. The feel and taste of his tongue is achingly familiar. In all the time when Maven was hunting for me, not even Cal's kisses could make me forget the way his brother puts all he wants to say in the swipe of his tongue in my mouth. I grab his hair, angrier than anything else now, angry that even though my mind protests, my body does not. He definitely enjoys the change of pace, because suddenly I'm on his lap and he's sucking on my tongue hard.

Stop it, stop it, stop it. The words echo in my head, but my body betrays my thoughts. I know I need to put and end to this, but I bite his bottom lip anyway. It feels so soft and perfectly fitted when I suck it between mine, it almost draws a moan from me again. I feel heat pooling between my legs that has nothing to do with Maven's natural temperature. I doubt the burning trail his fingertips leave on my skin do either. His hands reach mine, and he toys with my fingers for a moment, never breaking the kiss, before his hands find my ass. He pulls the white, simple dress up with force, exposing my backside to them, in the only underwear I am allowed. Soft, silky, and dark red. I am sure he loves the sight of it.

This time the moan slips out when his hands squeeze, pushing me higher up on his lap. My skin crawls when I feel how hard he is under the fine materials of his clothes. Even when I thought I could love him we had never gone this far. Now I feel my body press against his half-hard length automatically, just to hear him groan once more, and I am sure I've never despised myself more. But the sounds Maven makes are too delicious to stop, not that I could. His hands are firmly planted on my butt while his tongue still pleasures my mouth in every way he knows, making it impossible for me to protest. I need to, but the slide of his tongue against mine renders me useless except for my very hazy thoughts. I feel betrayed by my body with every subtle move it makes into Maven's lap. I had no trouble refusing his kisses because they were selfish. There's nothing selfish in the way one of his hands tips under my dress, finding its way on my hips at first, before he moves the dress up higher. He's forcing the dress up further with his hand, and cool air hits my skin. I don't mind it. Maven is like an inferno.

"Mare”

My name, whispered by his beautiful voice makes me shiver. No matter how much I tell myself it’s my body revolting, I know it isn’t. He finally stops ravishing my lips, but he doesn't give me enough room to think or breathe. His hands are on my breasts, and he's indefinitely more gentle than I ever dreamt. His hand squeezes timidly, cupping the underside of my breast. Despite the dread in my body I arch into his hand. I've been dying to have this Maven for too long. His other hand starts playing with my nipple, and he's running his soft thumb over it, making me even weaker in his arms. "You're all I want."  

I don't want to hear the words. I just want him to touch me and not say a word so I can pretend this is my innocent, broken, Maven. I hadn't known how much I was physically craving him, but I'm too lulled in by the wine and the curtain of desire the slight rocking of his hips and the pleasure his fingers give me to care. In the back of my head I'm convincing myself this is all for tactical reasons. The truth is I die to get my lips on his jawline, kissing down further until I reach his neck. His pale, silver skin is beautiful as ever, but even more enjoyable to touch. I dart out my tongue when I reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder, tasting his fine skin. He moans, a mix of intelligible sounds and my name, his hands dropping from my breasts. I almost stop and complain, but when he grabs onto the hem of the dress, lifting it up over my head, I lean away and let him before continuing to spread kitten licks on his skin. He seems to like it a lot, judging by the way he's craning his neck, burying his face in my hair. I hear the soft whimpers and it drives me on even more. He doesn't even care that my hair is once more a tangles, ratty mess, too absorbed by my lips pleasuring his neck. Only when I bite down, demanding him to react because I don't want to be the one taking the lead in this, not when there's still disgust layered deeply under the fire in my body. He complies, leaning away and the way his eyes ravish every piece of exposed skin makes me want to hide. But it's also making even more heat pool between my legs. His eyes hover on my undergarments for a second and I think it's impossible for him to miss how much I need him right now. It makes my cheeks burn in shame. There's no way he doesn't notice how thin and worn out my body is. But there's nothing but adoration in his eyes and he manages to make me feel like he's never seen anything more beautiful.

"I hate you so much", I choke out and its lacking effect. My voice is nothing more but a few breathily sputtered words, lacking all the spite I usually have in me. Maybe he doesn't hear it at all. His eyes are focused on my body instead, still, and he's licking his lips. I don't know whether he does it on purpose but the effect is all the same. I know I don't like it but I can't make myself react that way. Instead I stare at Maven, waiting for him to look at me. When he does, his mouth turns into a smile that melts everything but my hatred for him that's deeply implemented into my brain. He doesn't see, or chooses not to. Instead he runs his hands down my arms and over my thighs, gripping them suddenly to pull me up on his lap. The movement causes me to brush against his now very hard crotch, and a harsh groan tumbles over his reddened lips. It wouldn't have the same effect if I thought he's done this with many beautiful Silver ladies at court. But I know he hasn't. This Maven, this Maven whose hands are nothing but gentle and admiring, whose body reacts so strongly to mine, is just for me. His grip on my thighs softens when he moves his hand away, brushing it over the wet fabric of my underwear at first, testingly. When he's satisfied with my reaction, my eyes glazing over, he slips them in fully. I don't know whether the sob falling over my lips is because of the utterly wrecking feeling when his finger dips into me, or because of how disgusted I am with myself. Maven doesn't care. He slides his finger into me relentlessly, adding a second one when my quiet gasps start turning into moans. I close my eyes so I don't have to see him. It's enough to feel him all around me. Inside me. His slender, soft fingers are way too good at this, pressing against my walls in an angle so right he shouldn't know it. He's sliding his fingers in and out in such a slow rhythm, a little of the teasing, mischiveous Maven I know comes through. It makes it all the more pleasurable.

I can't help but throw my head back, exposing my neck and bare chest to him. I can't see his reaction but I can feel it by the way he curls his fingers inside of me. I clench around him despite my best efforts, and he is spurred on by my reaction. He holds onto my ass, pushing me down on his fingers more and I sputter his name together with a string of curses. I'm close to the edge and he knows, moving them into me harder. My moans start lacking breath, Maven wrecking me with just his fingers, but before he pushes me over the edge he pulls out, waiting until I calm down enough to look at him. I know, despite what I wish, the hatred is for once not because I hate him so much but because I hate that he didn't even let me finish.

But we both know that we'll go all the way tonight. His eyes are too glazed over, his pupils blown so wide there's little left of the icy blue. And I'm moving against his lap even while thinking that I need to stop. He left me high and dry and I'm too far gone to care. I don't help him, it's the smallest defiance I can muster at the moment. He doesn't need my help though. Maven moves me off his lap gently and for the tiniest second there's a spark of hope, hope that he'll leave me my pride and walk away. It dies with the next kiss. It's a hungry one, rougher than any of the kisses before yet gentler at the same time. It feels like he puts all his need for me in the one kiss and it draws me in like I'm starving. I let him wrap his hand around my neck, the scorching hot fingertips a pleasant feeling. Even his lips feel too hot, like he's lost some of his control over his fire. It's prickling, his tongue leaving me burning with every kiss, and I can't stop. I knew I held a soft spot for Maven, always, but I didn't know just how much he could do to me.

He bites down on my bottom lip, hard, sucking it into his mouth and I'm sure it'll be swollen soon. I don't care though. The pain is a welcome one because it reminds me that I don't deserve to enjoy this. I barely register his hand moving to my undergarments, barely register him pushing them down and me not putting up a fight. I knows he's undressed but it's all I can do now to not show any sign of eagerness. He wants to pull me back on his lap but I shove his hands away. It's a sign clear as day. I won't work for this. If he wants it he'll have to be the one to take over because I won't give it to him without effort. It's the smallest bit of pride I have left. He clicks his tongue, looking at me with a lopsided smile I've almost never seen on him. Maven pulls a strand of hair behind my ear, taking my hand into his gently. He locks our fingers, having to use his own hand to make me.

When he gets me to comply he runs his free hand along my thigh, wrapping it around my ankle. He pulls my leg forward decidedly, so I have no choice but to lay back on the bed. I try to find comfort in the fact that I'm doing nothing beyond what he insists on. Except he doesn't force me to look at him, doesn't force me to rake my eyes over his shirtless form, his pale skin almost shimmering in the moonlight. He looks just as malnourished and drawn out as I do and I instantly wish I wouldn't have seen. I don't want to know about his suffering. He's brought it upon himself. Just like I cannot pity myself for enjoying his lips running down my neck and cleavage, because I consented to it. It would be a lie to say I haven't imagined Maven's hands and lips on my body before, especially on bad nights, when I was rereading his vile, twisted notes in secret. He's murmuring against my skin but I don't make an effort to understand him. Whatever he's saying I don't want to know. Still, I bury my hands in his locks, making them even more unruly when I run my nails over his scalp. His lips have found my breasts, and he switches between nestling his face in the valley between them and biting down on my nipple, soothing the skin with soft licks. My best efforts are futile; my back is still arching into his mouth. One of his hands wraps around my waist, settling on my back and he holds me up, holds me closer to him. His breath is burning me and I melt in it, melt against his lips. He's paying attention to my pleasure first but I know this is also selfish. He wants nothing more than to have me. The bites he places in between kisses are prove of that. He licks over my nipple once more, replacing his tongue with his finger when he moves up to my face. I see his eyes dart to the M he branded me with, and I see the pride and hunger in them. He loves to mark me as his. The bite on my neck isn't as painful as the scorching pain of the branding was. He's gentler all together, immediately sucking on the reddened skin after he bites down. I know it will be a big, dark mark, but my body feels too much on edge to tell him to stop. He keeps repeating himself, biting and sucking until I'm sure my neck and everything down to my breasts is patched with dark blue blotches.

As much as he pays attention to my pleasure, I get impatient. I want this to be over with. Every second I enjoy is a second that will haunt me later. I wrap my leg around his hips, forcing him down against me and his kisses falter into a rough groan. My hands don't leave his hair when I pull him up, biting his lip with much more force than what's pleasurable. He doesn't care, moaning into my mouth and grabbing my thigh to make me wrap my other leg around him as well. He doesn't let go of me, he nails digging into my skin when he pushes into me. I break the kiss, gasping harshly. It hurts, but I've had worse. I can mask the pain and not let him know that he's taking my virginity. That I let him take it rather than anyone else. I think part of him has figured it out, his initial rough rhythm slowing. I hide the pain well but he still goes completely still inside me. I'm grateful but I don't let it show. I'm also grateful for the kisses he places behind my ear and on my neck, even though I will myself to ignore what he's saying.

He's holding back for my sake, because I can feel his hips shaking slightly. Once the pain reduces a bit I tighten my hold on his waist, and he understands. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to look at him. But I can't help sputtering his name when he slides inside me again and again and slowly the pain turns into pleasure. It feels too good to hold back and I can't. Soon he has me writhing under him, my face buried in his pale skin. He is more flushed than I've ever seen him, and I'm sure my cheeks are bright read, from both exhaustion and arousal. He has lost all control over his body heat and I am sweating so much my hair is plastered to my back. He keeps his rhythm steady, but somehow manages to hit me deeper every time, until my chest is heaving. I'm a moaning mess, and I can barely sort my thoughts. Maven's hand reaches from my hip between us, sliding down over our slick skin until he finds my sensitive nub.

He is drawing small circles on it so slowly, that it only edges me on further but isn't enough to grant me release. He wants me to move with him. It angers me beyond reason, but I'm also so close I give in, moving my hips with him. When I meet his thrusts halfway, it allows him to slide in deep enough to hit my most sensitive spot. I clench around him and after a couple more pushes pleasure rips through me, my orgasm crashing down on me. It's hard to breath, hard to do anything but gasp for air and let pleasure wash over me. I think I moan Maven's name a couple of times, judging by the way he kisses me like I've given him his only heart's desire. He presses his finger down harder on my clit, drawing out my orgasm until I feel physically spent. Maven's grunting, and in my moment of utter bliss I clench around him willingly, pushing him over the edge. I feel him twitching inside me, twisting the limits of my overly sensitive core, before he's spilling himself into me.

I pat his sweaty hair afterwards, holding him to help him calm down. He has his face pressed into my neck so tightly that it's hard for me to understand what he’s saying. I let him ramble on, showing no reaction, until the words filter through.

"Please don't leave me too."

It's his own fault that people leave him but it doesn't change the fact that he is broken and I realize I don't regret giving him this. Just for one night both of us deserve to pretend none of all the mess that tore us apart ever happened. I still can't leave him lying on top of me, baring his emotions that I didn't ask for and don't want. I truly only want to hit him over the head with my silent stone manacles until his silver blood is spilled all over the floor and soaking the bed sheets. Instead I can only take to verbal assaults, like I usually do.

"This changes nothing", I spit instead, causing him to snort into my neck. I immediately know the Maven I hate more than anyone else is back. He sits up, smiling at me so coldly I have to suppress a shiver. "If you want to tell yourself so, I won't stop you. But I've left my mark on you again, and ultimately there's nothing you can do to erase a single one of them."

Even though I know that part of him did not come for that reason, and he did not think like that for the better part of the time he spent in here, it still delivers a harsh blow to me. Because he's right. When he opens the door I see that he sent the Arvens away for good while he was here. It's a small relief. At least only Maven and I know about this. But I still feel sick, and it's not because of the wine. I have the sudden unbearable urge to throw up. Maven is right, he's set another mark on me and I will not be able to erase this one either.

#red queen #king's cage #maven calore #mare x maven #maven x mare #let me live in my happy little bubble where mare and maven are ultimately meant for each other #Ive spent enough time crying over the reality #also first time i dont write on my other blog /write for a fandom this is weird ugh

[mrmichaelchadler]

Thumbnails 9/28/18

Thumbnails is a roundup of brief excerpts to introduce you to articles from other websites that we found interesting and exciting. We provide links to the original sources for you to read in their entirety.—Chaz Ebert

1. 

"How Orson Welles' 'The Other Side of the Wind' Was Rescued From Oblivion": According to The New Yorker's Alex Ross.

“When Welles fans discuss the fate of ‘Wind,’ the name Oja Kodar inevitably surfaces, often in an unflattering light. A Croatian sculptor and actress, she co-wrote the script, had a lead role in the film, and—as the Welles scholar Jonathan Rosenbaum has established—directed three scenes of the film-within-the-film. She has been accused of holding up efforts to complete it, whether because of excessive demands or on account of a psychological block against seeing it finished. Yet she has artistic as well as legal authority over the work. In 2015, she made a rare public appearance at a Welles festival in Woodstock, Illinois. (The town was formerly the site of the Todd School for Boys, where Welles’s theatrical career began.) In an interview with Rosenbaum, Kodar made clear her profound attachment to ‘Wind.’ Now in her late seventies, she is a charismatic woman who speaks in a mixture of poetic flights and pungent aphorisms. She was born Olga Palinkaš, of Hungarian and Croatian parentage. Welles met her in 1961, when he went to Croatia to shoot his version of Kafka’s ‘The Trial.’ He named her his ‘present from God,’ and persuaded her to change her name; ‘Ko dar’ is Croatian for ‘as a present.’ She, in turn, coined the title of Welles’s final major film. In Woodstock, she told the story: ‘We walked in Cinecittà, which is a big Roman movie studio, and there was a set from ‘Romeo and Juliet’ from Zeffirelli, and the day was very, very windy, and Orson had on him his big black cape, and the wind went under that cape and opened it, and he looked like a giant bat.’ She went on to say, ‘He was more than human. He was an element of nature, he was wind.’”

2. 

"Why Elaine May Is A National Treasure": Forward's Carrie Rickey makes a convincing case.

“Even if you don’t recognize her name, your funny bone has been tickled by May, who has no equal as America’s most influential comedian. Her beneficiaries include everyone from Lily Tomlin to Tina Fey. ‘I don’t think it’s possible to overstate her influence on funny women,’ said Mark Harris, the film maven writing a biography of Mike Nichols. She has had an enormous impact on funny men, as well, most prominently Nichols and Woody Allen. Harris said, ‘The intelligence and precision and versatility she brought to Nichols & May influenced everyone who saw it, and I think that influence has been passed down the generations, to the point where there are comedians and comic writer/performers who probably don’t even know that she is in their DNA.’ ‘In her early sketch work with Mike Nichols, she ushered in a Jewish sensibility,’ said Jason Zinoman, a comedy columnist at The New York Times. ‘The phone bit where May calls her son – ‘Arthur, this is your mother. Do you remember me?’ — is the Rosetta Stone for the Jewish mother joke.’”

3.

"Underneath 'Bull''s Style and Smarts, There's Real Depth Too": The Talkhouse's Jim Hemphill sings the praises of CBS's enjoyable procedural, now in its third season.

“Roger Ebert once said that a movie isn’t about what it’s about, it’s about how it’s about what it’s about. I think that’s even more true of network television, where the difference between a passable show and a good one (and between a good one and a great one) is often down to the way in which the makers play with and subtly vary well-worn formulas. The immensely entertaining and ambitious CBS show ‘Bull,’ which begins its third season tonight, is a case in point. A smart, stylish and very funny drama that premiered in the fall of 2016 with a killer pedigree – ‘Donnie Brasco’ and ‘Quiz Show’ writer Paul Attanasio is one of the show’s creators, Steven Spielberg is an executive producer, and indie auteur Rodrigo Garcia directed the pilot – Bull reinvents and reinvigorates both the procedural and the courtroom drama with consistent verbal wit, visual elegance and one of the most compelling protagonists on television. Under Attanasio’s guidance, the series started strong, and when ‘Moonlighting’ creator Glenn Gordon Caron took over as the showrunner for season two, it got even better, developing into what it is now: a drama of intense moral seriousness with the breezy charm and fast badinage of a classic comedy by Howard Hawks or George Stevens.”

4. 

"A Decade of Lady Gaga: Ten Unforgettable Performances": At Indie Outlook, I highlight ten memorable moments from the past decade of Gaga's ever-surprising career.

“Next week’s release of ‘A Star is Born’ will cause even Gaga’s die-hard fan base to view her in a new light—one devoid of makeup or theatrics. Her performance as Ally, a gifted singer whose career takes off once she’s discovered by show business veteran Jackson Maine (Bradley Cooper), is one of the year’s best. She’s electrifying not only in the musical sequences—which were all performed live and feature many songs coauthored by her and Cooper—but in the rest of the picture as well. In many ways, it’s a natural continuation of what she began with Joanne, which was itself inspired by her work on ‘American Horror Story.’ By removing each layer of artifice, Gaga is bringing us closer to the vulnerable truth of her soul—Stefani’s soul. Gone is her poker face in the breathtaking final shot, and that is ultimately what makes Ally a star.”

5. 

"Why Saying 'Me Too' Isn't Enough": Impassioned commentary from Variety's Caroline Framke. 

“These falls from grace are an overdue redress for those who have come forward about experiencing or witnessing abuse. But not all of them are satisfied with the outcome of telling their stories — nor do they have faith that they will ever see true justice served. ‘My optimism that I had at the beginning is certainly not there anymore,’ says Sarah Tither-Kaplan, who alleged in January alongside several other women that she witnessed James Franco sexually harassing women on set. Since then, she says, she’s gotten waves of online backlash and lost friends, job opportunities and faith in the industry. Meanwhile, Franco has continued to work unabated. (HBO programming chief Casey Bloys insisted at the summer TCA press tour that the cast and producers of ‘The Deuce’ ‘all felt comfortable’ with Franco continuing to star in the series, now in its second season.) And he’s far from the only one. Despite the increasingly frequent pearl clutching from some about the #MeToo movement going too far, plenty of accused men are inching back into their careers after brief hiatuses away from the public eye.”

Image of the Day

Courtesy of Getty Images.

According to Nick Allen: "Chicago's own Third Coast International Audio Festival, also known as the 'Sundance of Radio,' will be hosting the special world premiere of the latest episode in ESPN's '30 for 30' podcast on Sunday, October 7 at 6:00pm at the Logan Auditorium. The episode will focus on baseball player Jose Canseco's doping scandal and a never-before-heard story about how he worked with a ghost writer to write a best-selling book. A Q&A will follow with the producers, which will offer more insight into how the famous podcast gets made." Click here for tickets.

Video of the Day

VIDEO ESSAY: #InformedImages: "Heat," "The Dark Knight," "Cliffhanger" and "Mission: Impossible - Fallout" from Nelson Carvajal on Vimeo.

Master editor Nelson Carvajal's latest essential installment of #InformedImages at Free Cinema Now illustrates how "Heat," "Cliffhanger" and "The Dark Knight" are all embedded in the DNA of "Mission: Impossible—Fallout."

Bonus: Podcast of the Day

Snap Judgment Podcast #926 from WNYC Studios, as recommended by Nick Allen: "Kartemquin filmmaker John Fecile takes a deep dive into the history of the infamous 'Faces of Death,' and interviews the enigmatic creator who originally wanted to make a nature documentary. Included in the podcast episode are snippets of Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel discussing the impact that 'Faces of Death' had on them, along with reactions from other viewers who learn through John's interviews what was real and what was not."

from All Content https://ift.tt/2OXyGAX

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 6)

Main Concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything. 

Find Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 

tag list: @delilahlbard @king-maven-calore @thatoddgirl777 @elliekratzzz @evangelineartemiasamos @evangeline-of-montfort @scxrletguardsdawn @freaky-freiday @redqueenetwork @petergrantkavinsky @kuwei @whatsup-gorls (let me know if you want a tag (((((: )

(<Cal>)

Waiting is the hard part. I’ve always considered myself patient, even if I’m not at times. But this, this is a new level. It takes everything just to keep from pacing the room. 

I thought I was going to throw up when Elara’s dress had disappeared down the stairs after the Sentinels carrying Mare. She was so certain that she could handle this, but what if Elara found something? I couldn’t care less if it was about me or what I will do in the futuer. I could take Elara his time. But if she hurts Mare, or forces her to regress to a state where I can’t pull her back from the brink like I did before, I don’t know if I would be able to live with letting Elara take her willingly. 

It feels like it’s been hours. Did it take this long the first time? I don’t remember. I should though. Even the first time I have been sweating and panicking, albeit for a much different reason. Elara had figured the truth about out meeting out anyway. 

The door opens with whisper, and I freeze near the window of my father’s study. My pulse pounds in my ears, and I force even inhales and exhales as Elara stalks into the room, her heels clicking against the wood until she steps on the carpet. 

“She’s Red through and through.” She simply states. I almost can’t hear it over the roar of blood in my ears.  

“And the terrorists?”

“She isn’t associated with them.” Elara murmurs and the whispers of silk brushing on wood announces her moving again. I let out the breath I’d been holding, trying to be discrete. When I glance over my shoulder though, it’s to see them so engrossed in dealing with the problem that I am only a decoration at this point. Good, so far everything was progressing the way I remembered. Elara could be keeping things to herself though. She’d kept plenty to herself in the months leading up to what happened in Archeon. If she had seen something about Montfort or the Guard in Mare’s memories she would keep it to herself, and start putting plans together behind the curtains. I had half a mind to warn Dane, not that he would need help scheming against Elara. 

I need a test, something to see if she does know more than she is letting on. Stepping away from the window I ask, “How did she get here?” I never asked that question. I know that. I had sat quietly by the window while Elara told my father everything she had discovered. This would throw her. If she did see everything, then she would search my mind for the truth, and possibly reveal that it was my fault Mare was here. If she did either, I would know.  

Elara’s icy gaze snaps to me, but I square my shoulders. I imagine my head as a hall of mirrors, reflecting my thoughts back at her. Behind those mirrors is everything I know, and my true thoughts. If she looks into my mind, she’ll only see what I want her to see, and I can lead her down any path I want because of that. She’ll think she’s the one doing the searching the entire time though, and I’ll feel her there. It’s an old trick that Carmadon did his best to teach. Mare wanted to learn it first. I could understand why too. After Samson and Elara both ripped her mind to pieces, it only made sense that she would never want it to happen again. I learned too, more for curiosity’s sake. I couldn’t be more grateful for that decision now. 

There isn’t even a shadow of her in my head when she says, “One of the servants retrieved her, but it’s unclear who ordered her here.”

It’s the best answer I can get. I release the tension in my shoulders as she turns back to father at his desk, her face a mask of stone. “She is the last thing we need.”

He’s quiet for a long time, simply watching Elara’s face. I’d been so oblivious to the battle of wills between them my entire life. Knowing what hides behind Elara’s mask though lets me see the battle lines clearly. Elara has pushed a lot the past few years, and she’s winning. He must know that too. He’d be blind and stupid if he didn’t know that. 

“She’s one girl, we could just remove her.” He eventually says, before leaning back and lacing his fingers together. Elara huffs at that, only to growl, “and the High Houses? What of them? Will we tell them she mysteriously vanished?” “Perhaps we should.” 

“They’ll smell blood.” Elara sneers. For all her malicious plans, she does know the court. The Houses will need something to chew on to keep them quiet. The Mareena story works, it has just enough holes that they’ll be so busy poking they won’t look in the right places. The perfect ruse. 

“Then what will you have me do Elara? Parade her in front of the kingdom?” He grunts out a laugh, but Elara’s lips curl up in the tinniest of smiles. She was already putting her plan into motion in this office. I wonder if she’s whispering it to Maven who is sitting just a few feet away, his eyes on the light stretching across the carpet from the open window. I glance at him hesitantly, looking for any sort of reaction. He looks bored though, his chin resting on his fist. That doesn’t mean anything though. He could be listening to every word she says. 

“We will hide her in plain sight.” Elara instructs quickly. Her eyes darting to me only momentarily. I drop my eyes to the carpet, trying to count the different colors there as she continues to speak in a hushed whisper to my father. His face hardens with each passing second until he looks to me and says, “Out, take Maven with you.” 

I remember this part well. They debate the intricacies without Maven and I present. Intricacies that will put Elara plan into motion permanently. 

Pacing across the room, I set my hand on Maven’s shoulder. He tenses under my grip momentarily before rising from the chair and following me out of the double doors. They close with a click behind us. 

We wait in the hallway, shoulder to shoulder. I need to speak with Mare, make sure she’s okay and that nothing slipped by. We also need to set up the next stage of our plan. We need to cover what happened after this, and I need her to tell me when exactly she met Farley so I can be on the lookout for Maven and Elara knowing more than they should. Or for anything suspicious. That is the only real test for them getting knowledge about the past from Mare. 

Next to me, Maven adjusts the cuff of his suit and says, “Well, she certainly made today entertaining.” 

I can’t smile or laugh, even though I should. I always laughed at his little asides. I’m so wrapped up in trying to out think Elara, that I can barely register his presence. 

He steps in front of me at my prolonged silence, his eyes searching my face. I used to think it was because he was patiently waiting for me to speak, now I know he was a hunter, analyzing his prey. I crack a smile to hide my discomfort, watching his eyes as I say, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Evangeline come so close to crying.” 

He laughs, and the sound makes my chest ache. It sounds so real. Is it? How much was really him? I wish I knew for sure. 

The door behind us opens before I can get in a deeper hole and Elara steps out followed by father who carries Mare’s folder in his hand. While I know the truth of their relationship, they are still a striking couple. Her every feature is the opposite of his. I wonder if Maven always wished he looked more like his mother and less like our father. 

“Send Lucas Samos for the girl. Bring her to the throne room.” My father orders the Sentinel waiting by the doors with a wave of his hand. Without waiting to see if the order is being followed, he starts down the hallway to the throne room. We must be there early enough to ensure proper placement. Our placement before Mare will be important. She’ll need to see the strength and power of the royal family, and my father will place us so that she sees exactly that. 

We don’t wait for an order either, and follow him. The silence is so heavy I can hear Elara’s skirts hissing as she walks. There is not backing out of this now. I wish I had just grabbed Mare and run with her last night. I would have found us an airship, or anything to get us to Montfort. We would have been there by now and all of this might have been dealt with. I should have told her to hell with Jon’s advice. I know better. I’ve known better for years than to believe anything that man says. 

The throne room is empty, and the throne has been moved back a few feet by some telkies and probably a magnetron. They want Mare to make the long walk down the hall and see all of it. My father wants her to be afraid. He won’t get that effect this time around though. Mare hates this place, and she’ll let that show on every inch of her face. 

Maven takes his place first, giving me enough space on his right side for me to slide between him and our father’s throne. I step up on the dais and into my place. He glances at me for a moment and then asks, “If they order her to be executed, do you think Evangeline will demand the honor?”

My throat closes up at the memory of Evangeline and Ptolemus stalking us in the Bowl of Bones. I throw a glare at Maven that could melt steel, even though panic laces through my bones. Does he know that because Elara told him it will come to pass?

His face pales with blush though, and I immediately regret my reaction. I clasp my hands together behind my back and look toward the doors that Mare will be brought through. “She doesn’t deserve to die. She’s just a girl.” I hope he thinks my fury is there because I’m too soft. 

Mare’s much more than just a girl. She’ll become more than that to him quickly too. I close my hands into fists at the thought. I promised Mare that I would never let him hurt her again. I swore that at the Notch and last night. Mare is more than capable of handling herself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to protect her. Especially from him and the memories he will bring back. 

The doors into the room open and Lucas brings her in with guards surrounding her. Behind me, the warmth of the sun slides away as a Haven darkness the room. It’s dramatic and entirely unnecessary. No one can see into this room. But appearances are everything, and I’m slowly being reminded of that. I’d give anything for my slacks and shirts that I kept in my Montfort apartment. I can’t believe that years ago I missed these uniforms. They’re miserable. “You will kneel,” Elara orders, her voice soft as velvet. 

Mare stands silently, staring her down before turning her eyes to my father. They flash with remorse for only a moment. “I will not.” She straightens her shoulders, every inch the warrior I remember her being with a different edge. This is Mare Barrow, not Mareena, not the Little Lightning Girl. This is the girl who came to exist between the peaks of Montfort, the one that threw a splatter of dough at me because I said something about her legs in a pair of pants, but turned around the next morning and beat me to a tie in a training ring. The girl whose brothers would wrestle me to the ground and threaten to dump me in the lake on a daily basis. My heart aches for that. As much as a part of me rejoices in seeing my father and brother again, I miss the Barrows. 

“Do you enjoy your cell, girl?” My father asks his voice louder than it needs to be. Mare may be hard headed but she’s not deaf. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. 

Still Mare purses her lips, refusing to bow. “It’s a little small.” She says as her eyes dance around the room taking everything in. In a few months we’ll be in a room very similar but she and Maven will be on their knees. Her eyes hold on Elara before she raises her chin and asks, “What do you want with me?” She’s surprisingly calm and the question is brutal in its bluntness. I wish I was a whisper so that I can tell her to at least pretend to be afraid. 

Elara leans down, her hand closing around my father’s shoulder as she whispers in his ear, “I told you, she’s Red through and through—” 

He waves her off with disinterest. Her hand grips his arm for another moment before she released it and draws back. It’s like watching a bird of prey release its catch to give it a bit of hope before it swoops in again. My stomach curls at the image. 

“What I want concerning you is impossible.” My father snaps, and he might as well set Mare on fire with those words. 

Mare huffs and twitches her head to the side to move her hair off her shoulder. She hasn’t looked this way once. She won’t either. Not as long as Maven stands next to me. 

“Well, I’m not sorry you can’t kill me.” She grumbles as she looks to the side, picking a stop on the wall to glare at. She’ll have to look at him eventually. I wish I could be there to support her when she does. Instead I’m standing up here, being about as useful as a rock in a sinking ship. 

My father tosses her file onto the floor. Her papers spill out, and Mare’s identification photo stares back at me. The fire I love sparks in her eyes as she looks at that photo. Her lips twist at the sight of the little smear of her blood there. I know what she’s thinking about. She’s thinking about a book of names. I’ve already started the hunt though, cataloguing Ada’s exact location, along with Nix, and Luther. Anyone else I could remember from the Notch I tried to find. I’d been mostly successful. I’d even found Dane’s name buried in the system. Of course, he’d been reported dead years ago. 

“Mare Molly Barrow, born November seventeenth, 302 of the New Era, to Daniel and Ruth Barrow,” my father drawls as if he’s reading the paper and not the life story of a woman who will one day bring an end to our family dynasty. “You have no occupation and are scheduled for conscription on your next birthday. You attend school sparingly, your academic test scores are low, and you have a list of offenses that would land you in prison in most cities. Thievery, smuggling, resisting arrest, to name but a few. All together you are poor, rude, immoral, unintelligent, impoverished, bitter, stubborn, and a blight upon your village and my kingdom.” 

I could laugh. If only my father knew what she would become. He would have to swallow his tongue. He might even respect her. 

“And yet,” he continues as if what he’s said wasn’t enough, “You are also something else. Something I cannot fathom. You are Red and Silver both, a peculiarity with deadly consequences you cannot understand. So what am I do to with you?”

Mare only shrugs, as she looks down at her boots. “I suppose you could let me go?”

Elara’s laugh sends a shiver down my spine again. She steps forward just slightly and spits, “And what about the High Houses? Will they keep silent as well? Will they forget the little lightning girl in a red uniform?”

They never will.

“You know my advice Tiberias,” Elara adds, her eyes holding on my father. I wonder if she is whispering into his mind right now, twisting his mind to do her bidding. “And it will solve both our problems.” 

I clench my fist, knowing what’s coming next. Mare seems to know too, because her jaw tightens. I wish I could stand beside her for this part. As if something as stupid as that could make a difference in this moment. 

“We are going to hide you in plain sight where we can watch you, protect you, and attempt to understand you.” With a bored shrug, father turns his eyes to Elara, who nods. Swallowing tightly, I step forward and urge, “Father—“ 

Maven’s hand closes around my elbow, making sure I can’t move. Elara’s eyes dance to me for a moment, until Maven pulls me back into line. Father turns away though, already busy telling Mare the story she will play by. 

Mare’s eyes finally glance my way as she says, “I don’t want to be a princess.” “It doesn’t matter what you want. You will marry my son Maven, and you’ll do it without putting a toe out of line.” He dismisses her abysmal refute with strong words. Mare’s jaw tightens, and she finally brings her eyes to Maven. I can hear her inhale, sharp as a knife. Next to me, Maven sputters and steps forward. “I don’t understand,” he blurts. 

I grab his arm, holding him back as he tries to take quick steps forward. “She’s—why?” 

“Quiet,” Elara snaps, making even me tense. “You will obey.” 

Maven turns burning eyes on her, reminding me so much of the boy he is to become. Elara hardens though, refusing to back down until Maven slowly bows back. A battle of wills I’d missed before. No doubt she’s whispering her plan into his mind, curling her fist around his intentions. 

Below us, Mare watches the entire thing, analyzing just as much as I am. She squeezes her hand into a fist and says, “This won’t help anyone.” 

“Oh, but it will. For the first time in your rudimentary little life, you have a purpose.” The jab stings even me, and Mare flinches at it. “Here we are, in the early stages of a badly timed rebellion, with terrorist groups or freedom fighters, or whatever the hell these idiotic Red fools call themselves, blowing things up in the name of equality.” 

Mare raises a brow, feigning interest. “The Scarlet Guard.” She corrects, her voice hard. 

“You might be able to help us stop there from being any more.” Father completely ignores her, steamrolling over Mare’s words like they are nothing. I wish he’d listen though. If he did, he would have been surprised that Mare even knew the name of the Scarlet Guard. No one really did, and if they did, they were the people we had been looking for. 

“And you think me marrying him will fix that?” She asks, her eyes darting to Maven and then away really quickly. She can barely hold his eye. This may have been bigger mistake than we originally thought. If Mare can’t even look at Maven, how is she supposed to pretend to trust him? Keep it together, I want to tell her, you’re almost there. 

“My name is Maven,” he says, quietly. “And I still don’t understand.” His cheeks are flushed with what I know is fury. Before, I would have mistaken it for embarrassment at Mare’s lack of decorum, now I know better. 

“If the Reds see her, a Silver by blood but Red by nature, raised up with us, they can be placated. It’s like a fairytale.” Mare’s eyes burn and I raise my chin to finish. “She’ll be their champion. And a distraction.” I add the last part hesitantly; the words sour in my mouth. 

When I don’t say anything else, Mare’s eyes drop. Father straightens up in his throne filling the silence immediately. “This isn’t a request, Lady Titanos.” 

Mare’s eyes snap up to him, her expression pulling tight. 

“You will go through with this, and you will do it properly.” 

Elara launches into her part, almost eagerly. As soon as she finishes Mare whispers, “My family—“ 

“What about them? Girl, you have fallen head over heels into a miracle.” Elara crows, furious that Mare would question any of this.

“Mare has a family, and she has a right to be worried about them.” I snap, drawing both Elara and Maven’s eyes. I tense at the slip, and Mare’s eyes widen a fraction of an inch. Swallowing, I bring my chin up and direct my next words to my father, “You would want the same for me or Maven if that were the case.” He huffs, and with shrug says, “Of course.” Drumming his fingers on the arm of the throne, he tilts his head to the side and says, “I suppose we’ll give them an allowance, keep them quiet.”

“I want my brothers brought back from the front.” Mare begins, pouncing on my father’s words, and stepping forward as she says them. Elara tenses but Mare only has eyes for my father as she continues with her demands. “And my friend, Kilorn Warren. Don’t let the legions take him.”

With a wave of his hand, Father agrees. “Done.” 

Mare sags in relief, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her relaxed since we got into this mess. The doors open again, and Lucas returns with the guards. They grab Mare’s arms before turning her around and taking her from the room. I know exactly where they are going, but I wait until Father has risen from the throne, chuckling to himself. I watch him until he recognizes my stare. He gives me a smile, pleased that things are at least somewhat going his way. “Write those letters will you?”

“As long as they are sent out tonight before the feast.” I say, even though I know Shade is already gone. It was one of the first things I looked up when I woke up days ago. He’d already been accused of desertion. He was with the Guard and Farley long before I even guessed.

I step off the back of the dais with those words and head straight for the door that will take me to the back hallways that lead to the royal apartments. I try not to run, but i’m terrified that if I don’t pull Bree and Tramy off the lines soon enough that they won’t make it off. I won’t let them die so that I have to tell Mare that I lost two more of her brothers. 

I know Maven’s following me long before I get to my rooms. I leave the door open for him to follow me in. He closes it behind him as I rush to my desk, pushing books aside while I search for official paper and a pen. Normally letters like that will be typed, but the faster it goes out, the better. I fly through Kilorn’s letter, barely registering what I’m writing. 

Maven watches me in silence as I hunch over the desk. He waits for a second more before saying, “You know her.” 

I don’t look up as I sign Kilorn’s letter. His needs to go to the recruitment office immediately. He should have already been drafted. The legionaries in the Stilts had always been slow though. Maven’s shoes click on the wood floor as he approaches my desk. He stops near my elbow and says, “You know her, Cal. How?”

“I met her outside a tavern.” I keep my reply short as I fold the letter and start on Bree’s. He watches my pen move, probably reading the words as I go. He leans his hip against the edge of the desk, and crosses his arms while I write in silence. He wants more. He won’t get any from me though. 

I fold Bree’s and start Tramy’s in the silence. He shifts to get my attention but when I don’t reply, he says, “You got her this job.” 

I nod, and then read over Tramy’s letter before folding it and searching for another piece of paper for Shade’s. “She was desperate. She needed it.” 

“I didn’t realize you ran a charity case.” He mumbles before leaving me at my desk to throw himself on to my bed. I glance at him over my shoulder as he does that. He sinks into the blankets before looking around my room asking, “Are you ready for tonight?”

Shaking my head, I pull a piece of paper from the desk and hastily start Shade’s letter. The bedding shifts as Maven does. He’s purposefully trying to get my attention now. A few years ago, before I knew what was in his head, I would have laughed at his attempts. Now though, I’m on guard, watching every move. I pause from writing Shade’s letter to glance at Maven. He props himself up on his elbows and smiles at me. It’s so disarming, I can’t help but give him a little smile back. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” 

He nods in understanding before shifting and saying, “I’m not going to lie. I thought… that I would at least get a choice.” 

I glance back at Shade’s letter to finish it. Was that a true statement? Probably. Elara forced him into this. Maybe it was his way of letting some of his true self slip out. My hand shakes as I sign the letter though. I tell myself it’s because I’m thinking about how it will do nothing, but I know that a part of me is thinking about Maven’s words and their implication. Had that been a cry for help that I missed? It certainly sounded like one. 

“I’m sorry.” I say to Maven, and those two words mean so much more than what I intend. He raises a brow, as if sensing the depth of my words. With a tilt of his head, he says, “You don’t have to be. It’s my duty to do as I’m told.” 

I fold Shade’s letter slowly and gather the other three. Turning to him, I approach the bed slowly. His eyes track my movement until I’m standing over him, and I don’t miss his cheek twitch as I set my hand on his leg. I swallow once more and whisper, “I’m truly sorry, Maven.”  

The heat underneath my hand rises with the swell of emotions he tries to keep under the surface. Drawing my hand back I look away. “I’m going to turn these in, I’ll see you at the feast.” 

I can feel his eyes on my back as I approach the door. Just as I’m turning the knob to leave, he speaks again, making me freeze. 

“I know, Cal.” His voice is soft, and for a moment, I get a flash of a simple stone on a sandy bluff overlooking the ocean. He would have loved that. I had been right to bury him someplace quiet. I squeeze my hand into a fist, remembering how that shovel felt in my hands, and how the blisters had burned, torn, and bled while I dug six feet into the ground. Nanabel had been horrified when I’d gotten back with blood all over my pants from wiping my hands on them. She thought I had at least taken someone with me to do the digging. I had refused anyone’s help though. I’d been a coward to let Mare do what I should have done. I wouldn’t be that coward again. And he was my brother. I was going to bury him myself, whether or not anyone thought that was right. 

Still, I give him a nod, showing him that I heard. He’s already on his path, and there is little that I think I can do for him. I can just be there for him, get him through this, and then bury him again. I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to do that again though. 

(/////) Mare’s rooms are at least on the way back from the offices of reports. It makes my trip back easier. I arrive just as they are putting the final touches on her. She pulls away when they reach for the earrings, and she almost grabs the girl’s wrist as she does so. “Leave those, please.” 

I can’t help but smile as I clear my throat. The maids all look my way and drop into quick, identical curtsies. I bob my head to them and whisper, “Excuse us.” 

They hurry out, and Mare slowly turns in the dress watching them leave. I approach slowly when the door closes, asking, “Cameras?”

“Off.” She says quickly. I tilt my head before reaching out to run my thumb along her cheek. The paint smears slightly and I whisper, “I forgot how odd you looked with this stuff.” 

“How kind,” she teases me with a smile as she pushes my hand away and descends from the little platform she had been standing on. She doesn’t wobble in the shoes like I remember. Continuing to ignoring me, she sinks into the chair in front of the vanity, and picks up the brush to adjust the smudge I made in her makeup. I watch her back, and for a moment, it’s like we never left Montfort. I could picture her sitting at her vanity in our apartment fixing her hair before we go to a state dinner, or before she goes to work.

“You still look beautiful.” I whisper to her. She glances up at me in the mirror, and her lips quirk up just slightly. 

“You always say that.” 

“Because it’s true.” I say as I approach her. I reach out to pick up a piece of hair that fell out near the back of her neck. I tuck it in, before holding my hand out for a pin. She gives it to me willingly before saying, “Anything suspicious?”

“Nothing.” I say as I slide the pin in place. I don’t mention Maven’s little comment. It didn’t hurt anything. Those words had been meant for me. She nods to me in the mirror, before rising and brushing out the wrinkles in her dress. Facing me, she makes a face at my uniform and reaches up to adjust my collar. Smoothing out the shoulders of my suit jacket she says softly, “She didn’t get anything I didn’t want her to get.” 

“The letters went out.” I change the subject quickly. Still, I watch her hands as she brushes something off the jacket of my suit. This feels like the beginning again. All the sneaking around that came with our dance lessons. I feel like I’m trading code with her, and we’re dancing perfectly around the truth. 

Nodding softly at my words, she releases a long exhale before dropping her hands. Her brows knit together before she sinks back onto the vanity school. Reaching up to massage her temple she whispers, “I don’t know if I can—I have to sit next to him tonight.” 

Reaching out, I let my fingertips brush her exposed collarbone. She feels warm, and real, even if she’s painted to look like a lie. The tension rolls out of her shoulder as I squeeze it. I wish I could just take the pain away from her, and leave her numb for the hours that are to come. “You know what he is,” I whisper to her. My words draw her eyes which are darker than I ever remember them being. Even after Corros. 

“I’ll only be a few seats away.” I brush a stubborn, loose curl away from her face. The imperfection reminds me that I used to push her mangled hair out of her face when she woke up in the morning. Trying to ignore the unease turning my stomach to a rolling mess, I take her hands and pull her to her feet. Even though I say those words with every intention of following through on their implication, when it comes down to it, I know I won’t be able to do anything. If she does need me, what can I do, squeeze her hand and smile? I’d done that the first time we went through this and it did shit all. 

Shaking her head at my words, she squeezes my fingers in reply until I squeeze back. Leaning down, I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes. She smells like jasmine, and cherry. Even here, in this nest of snakes, she still manages to strike me. 

“We could still try to run to Montfort. There’s time.” 

She chuckles at my idea, but it lacks the usual bright undertone I know. When I open my eyes, she’s watching me intently, a soldier now, more than ever. “We can’t leave everyone. They may not know it, but they’re counting on us not messing up like you did this afternoon.” 

I grimace and my ears burn immediately at the chastising comment. Calling her Mare might have alerted Elara to something. It certainly alerted Maven. “Like I said before, it’s a good thing it’s a suitable nickname for Mareena.” 

She smacks my cheek playfully, and pulling out of my grip she gives me a smirk before passing me. Looking over her shoulder, her smirk falls as she asks, “Has it been hard… seeing your father?”

To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it until she asked. The ache I’d felt in my chest, I’d just assumed came from my thoughts constantly being occupied by my brother. From the moment I’d seen him for the first time, I’d felt like my lungs were going to collapse and my chest was going to cave in. Being around him was like drowning. I couldn’t breathe, could barely think clearly. Throughout the war against him, all I could think about was what I would give to have these moments back. I’d realized last night that I didn’t want the moments themselves though, I wanted the ignorance that came with them. I wanted to see my brother again, the happy, laughing boy I thought I remembered. Whenever I look at him though, I only see the shell he is to become. I couldn’t save him before, and now, that knowledge only hurts more. 

“I haven’t really seen him.” I rub at the back of my neck, uncomfortable with that knowledge. Her face falls even further. There is nothing she can say though. Reaching out, she brushes her fingertips along the back of my hand. “Cameras are back on.” 

I let my pinkie brush hers, and listen to her footsteps as she leaves the room.

#The Chain #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #my writing #my fanfics #marecal #why is writing Cal so hard in this? #but also #him and maven will be fun #him and mare.... #not so much #but it ez what it ez #ENJOY #might post the next part as an apology for how long this took #cal calore #maven calore #mare barrow

[elliemarchetti]

What if (part 4)

Finally I managed to find the time to finish this chapter, which is definitely longer than the others but also much more loaded with contents than I could actually expect; there were too many things to say, too many POVs not yet explored and that needed to be heard and I wanted to do everything well. @lilyharvord @chaoslaborantin hope you like this too and to everyone who’s new to this story, here you can find the previous chapters. Enjoy!

Plot: 320 NE, Coriane is Queen of Norta and mother of Cal and Maven

Word count: 5545

Monday 6, September 320 NE

Coriane waited with patience, wisely hidden, as only those who are used to crawl in the shadows to not be seen can do. At four in the morning, Mare left her room, heading for Maven's. When her second son opened the door, his pale face stood out in stark contrast to the darkness, the dark clothes, and big, deep dark circles that weighed down the pale blue eyes he had inherited from her. Despite almost no military training, Maven was a good strategist, but Coriane had kept secrets to her parents a long way before him, and knew every technique, every trick her son was trying to use.

A few minutes and they were out. They walked in the dark, yet another beginner's mistake: as they counted on the favor of the shadows not to be seen, even anyone who wanted to follow or attack them could do it.

The night began to dissolve, leaving space for a dark blue sky where the stars were rapidly fading. When he was young, when Tibe was not a king, they had spent a few nights lying in the garden, under the perennial and silent control of the sentries, watching the stars. It was something he had seen done to Julian and Sara when the court and Archeon were still only a distant and indefinite image in his mind, a possibility not to be taken into consideration either. They were lying, and he pointed to the constellations, the new names and the old ones, all notions absorbed by enormous tomes to which he alone could be interested in that house. She wondered if Julian and Sara still did it, even now that they had been married for so long. She and Tibe had certainly never had the chance. Or time. And maybe not even the desire. When they finally arrived in the large bedroom they shared, they fell asleep in each other's arms without even the strength to say goodnight, without the energies to whisper doubts and fears as they used to do once. This didn’t take anything away from the love she felt for him, only things had changed. Being sovereign would have changed anyone.

At that hour, the city sank into an unnatural stillness; even patrol officers were moving sleepily from one location to another. It was the perfect moment to do illicit acts under the nose of those who should’ve prevented it. Therefore, she wasn’t surprised when the Scarlet Guard’s captain appeared from the shadows.

"Where are the others?" asked Maven composed, professional. He didn’t even sound like her son.

"Well hidden in the drains, where they will remain." Coriane answered instead of the blond girl, coming out of her hiding place. She advanced silently like a cat but with the stride of a tiger. The years at court had taught her so much, but above all that a composed façade, even when you’re shaking inside, was everything. And she had several reasons to shake, with the girl's gun pointed at her head.

"Lower the gun, I have no intention of hurting you." she hissed, remembering a voice that even years later still populated her nightmares. It was a sibylline voice, which even when she was telling one of her rare compliments, actually hid a threat. The Red hesitated for a moment, then lowered the gun, but didn’t put it back in her holster, and never took her finger off the trigger. She was ready to shoot at any eventuality. It was good: they were all risking a lot to be out there with her.

"I think you should give me some explanations, but for those we will have time later, in the safety of my private rooms." she said, addressing her son and his betrothed. Both tried to avoid her inquiring look, but Coriane understood their reasons, or at least could try to guess them.

"You, instead," she finally said, looking straight at the Red, "call your men."

Something seemed to snap into the young woman's mind, and Coriane still feared she wanted to shoot her, that she would leave her body bleeding there on concrete, while neither Maven nor Mare would have the readiness, or the strength or courage, to help her. How much was he willing to sacrifice for a utopia? The power of his family, surely, but also its members? Even those who loved him more? From the hardness in his eyes, she couldn’t say.

“There will be no red dawn” she ended, recovering the façade of the queen who doesn’t bend, who fears nothing, not even death. To look powerful is to be powerful, or at least was what her worst enemy used to say. And she had crushed her, just as she would’ve done with the Scarlet Guard if they had come between her and her plans.

“At least for now.” she added, with a devious smile, before turning her back to the blonde girl. Mare and Maven followed her like ducklings with their mother, their gaze fixed on their feet. The only eyes she felt on her back were blue as ice, and she didn’t need to turn to know that they weren’t as full of resentment as they should’ve been.

 Wednesday 15, September 320 NE

Thomas was uncomfortable. He had been on the underground train that had led him from Naercey to Archeon, and was at that moment, deep in the royal palace’s library. Maven had already reassured him several times that no one, at that hour of the night, would dare set foot in that wing of the library, which moreover, with the help of his uncle, had been temporarily closed for restoration. Yet Thomas jerked at every crunch; if they had found him there, no one could have prevented the king from having him executed. Of course, Maven could have invented an excuse, weaving one of his canvases of lies, but in any case would have compromised himself, and Thomas wasn’t stupid enough to believe that the prince would jeopardize even a shred of his reputation for him.  So they both sat stiff, stretching out to peek at the pages of what seemed like a harmless little notebook, but containing the names of all those who could change the fate of Norta, making the Scarlet Guard a real threat to the crown and not just a pebble in the shoe.

"I think the first stage of the Coronation Tour should be Harbor Bay." Maven finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen on the library like a cloak. He spoke in a low voice, but didn’t try to whisper, confident in his uncle power.

"While most of the Silvers will be busy enjoying our show, you could sneak almost undisturbed to Coraunt, where you'll find the newblood Nix Marsten. He's a middle-aged man, so expect him to struggle to believe the possibility of being different, even if he should’ve known it all along."

Thomas listened, receptive, trying to memorize every word. He couldn’t take notes, if they caught him they would blow their only, real chance to change things in a reasonable time, and he would’ve condemned all those innocent people to death, but at the same time he couldn’t look away from Maven’s almost feminine lips. Many boys, most of those he knew, at least, didn’t have that kind of traits, and no one would ever call Maven nice, not with his brother's bright beauty to obscure him, yet Thomas preferred his traits to the throne’s heir’s, his eyes of an almost colorless blue to his brother's bronze’s. Maven's was a silent beauty, which often went unnoticed, but it could hit your heart when he smiled, or when he allowed himself to bite his lower lip to concentrate better. If you could get used to Cal's beauty, be bored of it, even, Maven’s was to be discovered, like those wooden dolls slipping into each other.

“In our stay in Harbor Bay, we will stay at Ocean Hill; it's my mother's favorite place and no one will be too suspicious if she wants to spend here more than necessary. Mare and I should be able to take care of the three newbloods living in Harbor Bay, even if reaching the one in the suburbs could prove to be more difficult than expected, given the attention that will be on us. "

Thomas had to admit that, up to that point, Maven's plan, or perhaps his mother's, wasn’t that bad, even if he barely tolerated the idea of Mare’s participation, partly because she was Shade's sister and he didn’t want to endanger her more than she already was in that den of vipers, partly because the idea that the prince could spent more time in the company of his betrothed caused him a bit of annoyance in the stomach. Tristan, of course, had wanted to talk about his reaction when Mare and Maven had taken their hands in the greenhouse at Summerton, but Thomas had tried to minimize it. As much as he tried, however, Thomas had never been a great liar or a good spy, so he was sure Tristan hadn’t believed a single word and talked about it with Farley. Perhaps that was the reason why the captain had entrusted this mission to him.

"The next stop will be Cancorda. There’s only one newblood there, so we won’t need the Guard's intervention, at least to recruit him. You’ll attack on our second day of stay, on the night that flows into the third, when the newblood is already safe and in journey to Naercey. Don’t waste your best men, this’ll be just a diversion, a way to force my parents to increase the number of sentinels in the various stages of the Tour and then leave Archeon free, but not even the unwary: none of us can hold back, if we’ll come to a fight, and to leave Archeon weakened the excellence of the Silvers will have to follow us in the Tour.”

Thomas nodded, the only sign of his understanding that he was able to deliver. They had attacked places of strategic importance, were even ready to take the capital with Mare and Maven’s help, but taking Archeon alone, counting only on the distance of the most important and powerful Houses, was almost too much.

"I know it can be scary," Maven said, reaching for his hand on the table, grabbing it firmly. Thomas stiffened slightly, but Maven didn’t let him go, allowing him to get used to his unusual warmth. “But if our plan succeed, a red dawn will rise on Norta sooner than expected.”

Thomas just smiled, nervous. He didn’t understand the boy's motivations, yet he wanted to believe him more than anything else in the world.

 Thursday 25, September 320 NE

When the sun broke free of the earth’s slavery and leaned on Norta, the dawn greeted a tangle of bodies that bled red and silver.

Many battles had taken place on that land, but that wasn’t like the others, and everyone, Silvers and Scarlet Guard’s members, felt it. Each Red and newblood soldier was aware that the clash would decide Norta’s fate, whether they were aware of the plans of the captain who led them.

Tristan knew the plan by heart, and for now it seemed to work: the queen had really managed to leave the city unguarded enough to allow the Scarlet Guard to fight on equal terms and the remaining Silvers seemed frightened, as if they perceived the sense of inevitability that had gripped the stomach to all those who had left for that mission. It was time to pay for their actions, and the Silvers knew it, but the Scarlet Guard’s members felt an even greater weight on their shoulders: if they won, that day would forever change Norta’s story, finally forcing the Silvers to listen to the Reds, to pay attention, to accept them as equals, as a threat to the great power they thought they deserved by birthright.

From his facilitated position, Tristan glanced at Rasha, who was fighting in the front line, opening the way for other soldiers, inciting her companions, convincing them that victory was possible. He was proud of her. His beloved warrior was able to inspire people without needing any rank badge on her jacket, without any kind of power or ability: she was a pure Red, someone who lost and was still able to make people smile, to put the weight of their fears on her shoulders.  The shadow of a smile lit up his pale, gaunt face: until she was alive, hope wouldn’t abandon the Scarlet Guard.

Evangeline waited for the king and the queen to ascend on the small stage, followed by Cal, her betrothed. The Coronation Tour was usually a joyous occasion, of those where lavish parties are given in honor of future rulers, but since the Scarlet Guard attacked their residence in Cancorda, security agents had increased dramatically and they were indeed forced to respect a curfew that prevented them from even wandering through this or that lord’s residence’s rooms. This, of course, had certainly not prevented Elane from visiting her, or Wren from attending Ptolemus's rooms more than they should, considering that the cousins Skonos were, in her opinion and probably also that of the guards, little more than a part of the servitude , but she had noticed a certain dissatisfaction on Cal and Mare’s face. Only a blind man wouldn’t have noticed that something was happening between those two, but Evangeline didn’t give that any importance: that he occupied his time as best he could, provided he was at safe distance from her and her encounters with Elane. Prince Maven had also changed, but Evangeline couldn’t have defined how: she had never paid too much attention to Tiberias’ second son, partly because she already knew she would never have to marry him, partly because he was younger than she, yet she could say with certainty that something had changed in him since they had left, as if he had left a part of himself at home. That he too had a lover? It would have been ironic, even though before the Tour it had seemed to her that there really was something between him and Mare. Not that the loving interweaving of the royal family were her main interest, but in fort Lencasser, before getting on a stage next to a betrothed for which she would never even have felt the slightest attraction, she didn’t have much else to keep her mind busy with.

Because of the small-sized stage, the members of House Samos, Haven and Skonos who had accompanied her on the Tour had to stay with the rest of the Silvers in the audience. Her brother wore a simple cut suit, all black, with silver trim, the colors of their House, which highlighted his white complexion and platinum blonde hair, matching perfectly with his eyes black like wells, just as hers. Beside him, Elane stretched her neck, hoping to see, at least in part, her figure. She'd helped her get dressed, like worthy sister-in-law should do, somebody would say, and Evangeline, to hear such a comment, would probably have to commit to holding back laughter. On Ptolemus’ left, Wren was waiting at an adequate and painful distance, which Evangeline knew too well. How hurtful she was to see Ptolemus and Elane be affectionate with each other in public, something she could never do, how much she suffered while knowing that it was all fiction, accepted by her brother only for her sake.

She wore an icy smile and climbed onto the stage. Some whispered to each other, and Evangeline couldn’t be more satisfied: she had spent more than two hours preparing, applying makeup with maniacal precision and anyone who had looked at her had to think that she resembled more a vengeful goddess than a young woman.

Immediately after Maven went up, the suit with a different cut from his brother’s, but with the same colors, those of House Calore, his expression a flurry of emotions. Something definitely wasn’t right in the prince and judging by his pallor, Evangeline hoped he wouldn’t throw up on her silver shoes.

The line was closed by Mareena, wearing a simple dark purple dress, supported by a very thin silver chain, which clung to her thin neck. She seemed uncomfortable too; that she and Maven had a fight? King Tiberias’ words prevented her from lingering further on that thought.

"The Coronation Tour is always a joyous event, even when only one marriage is celebrated." the crowd chuckled, but it was a false sound, which came wrong to her ears, issued only because it was the king who uttered that terrible joke. After all, perhaps, Cal had inherited something else, besides the appearance, from his father.

“As you have seen for yourself, the Queenstrial has given us more than a future queen, bringing us back the daughter of our beloved general Ethan Titanos, and restoring a family that we thought was definitely extinct. "

Despite her efforts, Evangeline stopped listening. She had heard Mareena’s story too many times to consider it still of some interest. She recovered only when Cal began his speech, which as always had to do with his being heir to the throne and with the immense privilege, but also duty, that this gave him. When he would close his mouth, it would finally be her turn. The speech she had prepared, however, never saw the light and wasn’t heard by anyone but those who had helped to write it. Cal was still babbling about the power and strength their union would bring to Norta when the screen on the other side of the square suddenly changed its image. If previously they had been reflected in it as if they were in front of a giant mirror, now there was a girl with blond hair, blue eyes piercing like ice blades, her face partly covered by a red bandana. She was the head of the Scarlet Guard, and she was airing live from Archeon.

His father's voice echoed strangely in Colonel Gliacon's home’ wide entrance. The storm that raged on Great Woods had reached them and they didn’t even have a storms in tow that could make the situation less embarrassing; Maven was sure that whoever was on the opposite side of the long table, compared to where his father had stood, wouldn’t hear a word, thanks to the incessant roar of rain on the roof and window panes. He wasn’t surprised to see that his uncle Julian and his wife had chosen that position.

Along with the storm's howl, the cold had also arrived, creating a strange contrast between the cold drafts that slipped under doors and windows and the temperature of the room, comparable to an oven thanks to his father’s fury.

"That Red viper gave us four days, not even enough to recall a third of the High Houses!" Tiberias exclaimed, his neck beginning to redden. Maven glanced at Larentia Viper, Volo Samos’ wife, who lovingly caressed the smooth, almost flat head of the snake that she had softly wrapped around her shoulders, like a shawl. If she had been somehow offended by his father's words, she didn’t show it. It was known that Evangeline and Ptolemus’ mother considered her animals much more important than Reds. Another folly that only the Silvers could conceive, another reason to side with the victory of the Scarlet Guard and its ideals.

“Admitted and not granted that those clowns have taken Archeon, nothing assures us that their threats aren’t just a bluff." Volo said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, something that would have horrified Lady Blonos and her lessons on good manners Not that Maven believed the farce of the relaxed lord in the middle of a gathering of people ready to kill each other; Volo Samos just wanted to give the impression of being among friends, in a place where he could talk freely and trust all, only to then use his own disappointment, the inevitable betrayal, to his advantage. Everybody knew the basics of the court schemes, in there.

"Those Reds could also have the support of the Lakelands, for all we know. They could be a diversion to invade us when we are weaker." he went on, gaining several consents. Even Stralian Haven nodded.

In spite of the icy silence, heat waves crashed on him from both his father and Cal. He had never seen him so taut, rigidly leaning on the high back of the chair, his mouth reduced to a thin line. Did he regard what the Scarlet Guard did as an improper gesture, which he despised, or was he just angry because the Reds had outsmarted him? Despite their mother's dislike of anything to do with the military career, it was no secret that Cal had been studying strategy since she was a child and advising their father about the war with the Lakelands for the past two years. The years had changed him and King Tiberias had weakened just enough to count on his heir for some issues that worried him too much. An information that the Scarlet Guard would never have had without his help but that alone was enough to make Coriane's plan accept. At least for now.

“I believe them.” his father said, and those words sounded very strange, in Maven's ears. He had conceived that speech, the whole part of the plan that played on his father and Cal’s weaknesses, and although Tiberias didn’t know, for his son it was as if he had finally congratulated him.

"Whether it's a trap or not, I see no other alternative than to accept their requests: three days is a period too short to call up an army and we don’t know how many Reds have joined the terrorists' cause, nor how many soldiers are actually present at Archeon. I won’t risk the lives of those who are dearest to me to resume the capital and if they really are in league with the Lakelands, we cannot afford to lose in a fight, not a single battle, nor a single life. Every drop of silver blood that this rebellion pours is a victory for our enemies. In addition, we don’t even know how many prisoners were made during the capture of the capital and we cannot risk their lives being in danger because of our recklessness. Strength is all in a world like ours, and only if exercised through power is different from that of beasts. However, wouldn’t we be beasts anyway if we didn’t know how to let go of power? I trust my son and he has shown repeatedly that he can be a great king, able to make difficult decisions but that must be taken anyway. And isn’t that what we most need in these hard times, where rats think they can fight lions? "

Maven frowned, puzzled. Those were beautiful words, a speech worthy of all those who had preceded it and that his father repeated for a long time in his private rooms. But those words should’ve come straight from his heart, be designed on the spot. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what was going to happen, and surely no one would have been able to advise him on such a speech without alerting him. Except ... Maven turned to look at his mother. She nodded, her eyes shining, as if moved, perhaps she had even quietly murmured her assent. How long had Coriane been waiting for that moment? What tremendous mechanism had they started, and when the Scarlet Guard and its ideals had become nothing but a cog?

Volo Samos’ voice was loud and angry, as unpleasant as the screeching of metal against other metal, a sound that Evangeline had forced them to hear for a long time, during their training sessions. He regretted that period: the court constraints, the meetings presided over by Arven, were a walk in the open air, compared to the reality of life that awaited them.

“You won’t take away from my daughter what is rightfully her!” exclaimed House Samos’ patriarch. Cal almost vomited at the idea that they were talking about him; he felt reduced to a useful but not precious object, something that everyone wanted to use for their own personal interest, but for which no one cared about the true value. Even now that he was really about to become king, he felt like a puppet, unable to take any kind of decision, obliged to follow his puppeteers’ instructions. Since he was a child, he had always wanted to make people happy. Growing up, however, the thing had become increasingly difficult: often, make her mother happy meant to be useless in his father’s but indulge the king meant to disappoint his mother and in both cases, Maven received no benefit from his actions. Anyone could’ve used his weakness against him, wanting it. He didn’t delude himself, at the court there were few who feared him, even though they should’ve done it only because of his status; no one had ever seen the shadow that hid in his mind, decided to focus only on the flame’s light and not on what made it so brilliant.

"I was present at your wedding: you swore that all your offspring would have to take wife through a Queenstrial. You had already been allowed to let Maven marry Ethan's daughter, it seemed right to everyone, but to rip from my daughter's hands what she worked so hard for is an insult I cannot bear."

The implications of what Lord Volo had just said were heavy, but Cal couldn’t think of it: to hear Mare’s cover mentioned, he had stiffened and had begun to think about what implications would have meant for her with what was about to happen. She would still marry Maven, that was sure; perhaps she could even get used to court life and all that pomp. But could she live in lies forever? Would she hold up, or would the weight of all those secrets break her? And what would have changed for them? Was there still something that could be called that way? He had to stop thinking about her, to force himself to remove the image of the girl he loved from his mind, so as not to risk it bursting. He couldn’t think of Mare, or himself, in a delicate moment like that. Once that situation was resolved, there would be time to be selfish, but that wasn’t the right place.

"So what do you suggest, Lord Volo?" he asked, finally taking the floor. Everyone in the room froze. Nobody expected a golden boy's intervention, let alone with an uncomfortable question like that.

"Contract peace: give Lakelanders the lands you have long fought for, secure a marriage between your progeny." he suggested.

"And if my offspring were to be only female? If Lady Evangeline couldn’t give me anything but daughters? Would I repudiate your daughter, or let a Lakelander be King of Norta at my death?" asked Cal, checking Evangeline’s reaction with the corner of his eyes. As expected, at the offspring’s issue’s mention, the girl shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

If she could tolerate the idea of pretending to love a man for her whole life, she couldn’t bear the possibility that a male being could profane her.

“No Lakelander will ever be King of Norta!” his father thundered, tearing Cal into a satisfied expression.

"King Orrec has two daughters, but I don’t think he will marry anybody with the future queen, so only the minor remains, Iris." his mother commented, with a composure that didn’t suit her. She seemed to be talking about the weather, while in her hands she not only had the lives of her sons but also the outcome of a war, a new beginning for two kingdoms that had always been intent on fighting each other.

"So it should be Maven who's marrying her! A second son for a second daughter." Volo said, but the credibility of his words was lowered by the fact that not even he had aimed at the second son of the king, but the heir, the firstborn.

"And Mareena? What would happen to her in this plan of yours?" Maven asked, speaking for the first time, a light pallor that extended from ears to cheeks. He was embarrassed, especially talking about the bond with his betrothed in front of so many people. Nobody expected that in such a short time they would start to get along so well, that they almost really liked each other. A twinge of pain hit Cal's chest at the thought. Mare wasn’t his, nor Maven’s; she belonged to herself. Yet he, selfishly, had wanted his share, betraying Maven so cruelly, when he had always been good and sincere with him.

When the brothers’ gaze crossed, in Maven's eyes were words that he couldn’t say aloud, a pardon that made a lump in Cal's throat and didn’t allow him to speak, to say that it didn’t matter because no king would ever marry his daughter to a second-born to end a war. If a position was what they would’ve exchanged to end the conflict, then it was the queen's one.

"What's going to happen to my daughter, if you’ll marry another woman?" asked Volo, looking directly at Cal. He had no idea. Would she return to the Rift with her tail between her legs, together with her whole family? But would Ptolemus ever leave his place as head of the city guard? Provided there was still a city to defend at the end of that meeting.

"She will marry my son Maven, as you yourself have said, a second son for a second daughter." the king suggested, going to his son's aid. Not that Cal really needed it, not if that was the outcome.

"But the people..." Maven began, without having the chance to finish. His mother had glared at him, as if they had an outstanding account.

"Our people are more inclined to accept an exchange between Silvers brothers than to lose the capital at the hands of the Reds." the king answered, looking first at Cal and then at Maven, then returning to his eldest. Did he know too? Was it so obvious what was happening with Mare?

"Besides, nobody will care too much about who will be queen, when the war will stop and they’ll have to pay more their servants for the work they do."

The shadow of a victorious smile painted on his mother's lips. It was what she had always wanted, what had built a wall between her and his father, despite mutual love. But how much did she have to do with this story? Or was it all just a fortuitous case?

"As for Mareena, the girl has already been very lucky to be recognized for the noble she is."

A lie.

"So she won’t have anything to object when we tell her she can come back to the Nolles, her mother's House, who had already kindly offered to host her and let her know the story of her ancestors."

Cal wanted to scream. Her ancestors were the same people they had oppressed, the same people who they still called rats and snakes, who didn’t even have a name in their eyes, who didn’t even deserve to be paid for the hard work they did every day. Some argued that the Reds should thank them not to be slaves, but Cal didn’t seen in their current condition something so different from that: they were slaves of jobs that didn’t pay enough to keep the whole family alive, slaves of a war that it no longer made sense, slaves of a mentality that didn’t see them as individuals but only as numbers, without a face and existence of their own. This should have taught the Nolles to Mare, or perhaps it was more what she would somehow manage to convey to them. But at what price? She had agreed to remain at court when there were no other choices, she had agreed to remain in a place where the four most important members of the royal family had sworn to take care of her, and now they were pushing her away, feeding her to relatives ready to tear her to pieces. For the Nolles, Mare was of some sort of interest as long as she was promised to Maven, but now? What did it mean for them if not an extra mouth to feed? They couldn’t even hope to make her marry a nobleman of high rank, since the most coveted claimants were already engaged. Mare would’ve been just a burden. And then, someone would also have to take care of her special needs, like makeup, which hid her skin’s rosy undertone, or ... He couldn’t think about it. Mare would have to do it alone: they had done everything possible, but the possibility of ending the war, of being the spark for the change that Norta needed was more important than her safeguard. If only Cal really believed it.

#what if #coriane jacos #cal calore #maven calore #mare barrow #mareena titanos #diana farley #elara merandus #tibe calore #julian jacos #sara skonos #thomas #tristan boreeve #ann walsh #rasha blini #evangeline samos #elane haven #ptolemus samos #wren skonos #volo samos #larentia viper #stralian haven #marecal #thomaven #evane #tristan x ann x rasha #ptolemus x wren #julian x sara #red queen #glass sword

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse part 13

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chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

Mare POV

Half a dozen maps are spread on Farley’s desk, some of them drawn by Guard members, all of them filled with annotations and battle plans. I’m supposed to be briefed about my orders for the next day, yet my eyes stray to the other maps, depicting the regions of Norta, the Lakelands, Piedmont and Monfort. A few weeks have passed since the colonel joined Volo Samos’s campaign against the Lakelands with a few hundred soldiers, their progress from Corvium to Detraeon’s outskirts drawn onto the map in thin black lines.

“Mare.” I look up, Farley’s back from changing Clara’s diapers. She points to the Archeon map. “Your role is to take over the eastern power plant; Ella and Tyton are in the north and south west,” she explains. “Estimated time for the blackout is 0800 but you’ll have to radio each other to coordinate the timing.” She pauses. I nod, yet she already goes on. “I suppose there’ll be room for deviations because of other assaults.”

“Can’t you finally be clear, Farley?” Her hesitation with details is getting annoying. “What other assaults? Who else is there? What will they do – what will you do?”

Her expression doesn’t waver but she chews on her lip. “We make utmost use of our teleporters,” she reports in a neutral, detached tone. “You’ll be brought to a safe house outside of the city before the teleporters will transfer you to your destination, with stays in other safe houses in between. They’ve done this for days, and our Silver allies are already in Archeon and preparing. The movements are necessary to hide the operations. The Lerolan faction and I have coordinated a double assault against Archeon’s infrastructure, while several chosen operatives – ”

“The Lerolan faction? You mean Tiberias.”

She frowns before she nods. “Yes, Calore. And Anabel Lerolan and her seconds. I’ve communicated with them the whole time.” She shrugs. “Would you have liked to … talk to Calore as well?”

I say nothing.

“Mare?”

“I don’t know, it’s just – it’s strange. You plan with him while I can’t bear – can’t know – if I even want to talk to him again.” I shake my head. “And what did your spies tell you about Maven?”

She takes a sharp breath to confirm my jab. I wave off. “I don’t want to know. You aren’t letting me kill him either way.”

“No,” she says, finally insistent. Then she sighs. “But I don’t have the right to stop you, not if retribution is what you crave.”

I lean over the desk, my hands pressed on the maps. I stare into her eyes, five seconds, ten seconds. She gives in and looks away. “I know my orders,” I mutter. “You gave them for a reason after all, so who am I to act against them?”

Her relief is audible. “Right,” she says, clearing her throat. “Thanks. Now, your flight goes at 0400, then you’ll deactivate electricity in the east, depending on the charge against Whitefire by a few chosen operatives.”

“I hope Calore won’t act against his orders,” I say.

“Hopefully,” she agrees. But she’s too stressed to smile. Or too doubtful.

“In exchange for my trust,” I ask, “you might tell me where you’re going tonight?”

She ponders.

“Don’t tell me you just want to avoid all the teleporting?”

“What? No, I’ll – “ She’s interrupted by Clara’s new wailing. Farley dashes to her cot and picks her up. “I have to feed her,” she calls to me. I know it’s a dismissal but my curiosity remains.

I don’t receive more of an answer when she brings Clara to us the same night. Farley is wholly occupied by Mom who either cuddles Clara or pesters and scolds Farley about her mission. They’ve had these talks before, but Mom is especially insisting tonight. We all know there’s more at stake than in the skirmishes before. Gisa huddles close to me and holds my hand, but she doesn’t speak. Kilorn’s on my other side, reminding me that I’ll have to protect him tomorrow. He’s in the team coming with me to the power plant. Strangely, it fees less like a burden than I assumed it would. His joking tone is full of trust in me and I’m determined to live up to it. I retire just when Farley’s about to leave with her team, giving Clara a last kiss and murmured goodbyes. Even Dad hugs her.

I’ve trained enough in the last days to get a few hours of sleep. Mom hardly allows me to go when it’s my turn, even though Kilorn and Tramy are coming as well. I promise her to return and she wishes me luck, her words encouraging me further. 

Excitement and exhaustion fill me up during the flight, and I doze off again, waking a few minutes before the landing. I see Tramy talk to a Silver woman and go over my orders again, discussing them with Kilorn and the other members of my team. They show even more focus. The last moments on the plane pass in awkward but concentrated silence until we arrive just outside of Archeon.

Everything goes quickly there. Soldiers grab their guns, weapons and armour, even I take a vest and a knife while the teleporters already line up to take soldiers to their destinations, according to the coded cards they produce. The Newbloods appear tired and pale, unsurprising after they did this for days. But when Kilorn and I are snatched by a teleporter, an older man, the movement wakes a familiar nausea, a pain stinging me for a moment.

We can’t unpack anything and stay only for a couple of minutes before the next jump. Hectic rules the cold rooms we get to.

“If I counted right, this is the last safe house before the power plant,” Kilorn informs me. “We’ll stay until the assault begins.”

I nod. “Then waiting for news from Ella and Tyton.”

A heat wave passes behind my back. Although I tell myself it’s only a finally heated radiator, I turn around and can’t believe my eyes to see Tiberias, dressed in a weirdly mixed uniform of Scarlet Guard and Silver design, running between the groups of soldiers. I whisper his name and I don’t know whether he heard me or if someone’s pointed to me. Tiberias spins around.

And walks to me.

“Good to see you,” he says to both of us. Only that, and quite causally. Probably, he gives the same greeting to everyone here. Kilorn grimaces but shakes hands with Tiberias. The king-to-be offers the same to me and I outstretch my palm. Yet I throw myself against his chest and hug him, feeling his warm hands on my back through the fabric of my uniform. It lasts just for a second. We part, and he’s heading to another group. “Good luck,” he says and adds, “don’t be afraid, it’s intentional.” It should mean nothing but his tiny smile, a fracture in his general’s attitude, gives me hope.

I remember Farley’s words about the Silvers’ plans but Tiberias’s advice makes me wonder if it’ll be worse than I imagined.

Kilorn squeezes my hand while my eyes continue to follow Tiberias’s route through the cramped building. Finally, he lifts a hand and a teleporter jumps him away. Another officer shouts a countdown and at zero, after a second of dreadful silence, I hear the explosions. It’s not bombs alone; the earth begins to shake. It unsettles the whole room but the effect is small compared to what I can see with a short glimpse through a tiny window: Streets are breaking, bridges fall, buildings tumble. The Lerolan oblivions, spread all over the territory, attack the capital itself. The reactions set forth over a whole minute that feels eternal, the noise reverberating in my ears. Their explosions, together several bombs, destroy the stage Maven created for himself.

I’ve been told several minor attacks were started to warn and scare away the grunt of the civillian populace, leaving me to wonder how effective that was. Then Arezzo, one teleporter I know, takes me, Kilorn, and the rest of our team to the eastern power plant.

The first thing I see, still dizzy from the jump, is a corpse. It freezes Kilorn more than me and I have to pull him away although I can feel my own shock as well. He quickly lets go of me and moves ahead, to my worry. But he’s learned more about this place than I did.

Luckily, the plant was already raided. Not so luckily, I don’t know if that reassures me, facing several killed operators while the Reds among them have been arrested. I stop our tracks after I notice the first halfway safe room.

“This one’s okay,” I call out. “I can do it from here.” I click on the radio, relief rushing through when I hear the voices of the other electricons, even though both of them sound as stressed as I am.

“Mare?” Ella asks through the white noise.

“Ready to turn off the city?” I say.

“Been ready for hours, Barrow,” Tyton replies, and I can imagine his sneer in my mind. “Going off in 20 s.”

I close my eyes and concentrate on nothing but the electricity roaming the place in turbines and generators, wires and conducts. I draw it the energy to me, into my body, just until the brink of keeping it contained into myself. It’s a tight fit, as I can’t keep sparks from jumping off my skin. Then I motion for my comrades to shut down the engines. I don’t have to see them pull the lever and clicking on the computers, my electrical sense is more accurate than my eyes. But no matter how much they researched before, they aren’t able to know enough to turn off all emergency bypasses – that is my task. I stop every electron from leaving the plant’s conduct to leave a considerable quarter of the city, as well as the place we’re in, in darkness.

I have to concentrate harder to stop any pulses, bypasses, and other devices in close vicinity, hearing several gasps of surprise. I can’t help everyone complaining about their flashlights though. A comrade guides me to the roof, explaining we need to observe from above. For once, I have to wonder if I couldn’t do the same thing in Whitefire itself, if I was there, to burn the palace down as Evangeline once asked me to. But this has to be enough for today. I glance at Kilorn behind me, wishing to feel his supporting hand on my back. I doubt I’m safe to be touched right now.

There was a discussion to cause an electromagnetic pulse in the city - we electricons could’ve dismantled all electronic devices in the capital in one go. But we didn’t have the time to train for this, nor was the action agreed on. “It’d affect our devices as well, Mare,” Farley told me. Thus, I’m merely standing on the edge of the roof and taking down every enemy military transport I see. The power plant is hardly in the centre of the capital but those hoping to escape the fights through a bypass will be disappointed.

Despite daybreak, dust limits my sight, raising my worry about the civilians again. But I have to keep focused on the task at hand. It’s exhausting and not as effective as if I was down in the streets but I made my promises – I would make it out alive. I’d return to my family. I won’t offer myself to Maven again.

But please, let me see his corpse at the end of the day.

In the distance, I see the storms created by Ella and Tyton in blue and white. I haven’t called forth a storm myself, but I’m untouchable either way. Electricity buzzes and snaps around me and the metal on the plant’s roof. The voltage hums in the air and if the sight wasn’t warning enough, Kilorn and Ashley, another soldier, keep watch, shouting out to comrades and shooting our enemies. I feel safe with them protecting my back as I hurl lightning from the sky at those foes crossing the streets below me and deep inside, I’m relieved by the distance to Whitefire. Last year on this day, I was a prisoner inside its walls, now I see it crumble, with its demon king trapped inside while I stand above the city, shrouded in lightning and as exalted and powerful as a god. A part of me muses if he can see me from here, but most of all, I hope I’m not cursed to fall. 

@clarafarleybarrow @mareshmallow @calliopexclio @lilyharvord @redqueenfandom @inopinion @hannaharies @breebarrcw @spookysamos @runexandra @asewhj @iris-cygnets @ssingerqueen @red-queen-united @calmareforever @redqueenforever

#red queen fan fiction #red queen fanfiction #war storm #marecal #war storm fanfiction #mare barrow #tiberias vii #kilorn warren #diana farley #king's cage #blood curse #blood curse ch 13 #storm born